Just a Bus Ride Away

I wrote this yesterday around 1:30 local time, which for my California friends and family would have been 4:45am:

Wow! I am sitting on a bus on my way to my new home for the next 5 months. I woke up bright and early yesterday morning to get to LAX for my 8:15 flight. Then I slept through my 5 hour flight to JFK, where I waited for another 5 hours until my connecting flight to Dublin took off. While at JFK, I indulged in a delicious, expensive cheeseburger and some bright green headphones. I also made a few phone calls to some of the people I love, and I worked on the scarf I thought I would have finished by the time I got to Ireland. I didn't quite meet my goal, but I'm close.

Knitting has become a favorite pastime of mine. It is so methodical. Slip one needle through the yarn on the other. Loop. Remove. Tighten. Repeat. My brain can go into an empty space where I am not over-thinking, over planning; I am just knitting. I first started knitting before I entered my freshman year at St. Mary's, but I really became dependent on it when my dad died. When I was knitting, I wasn't crying. It gave something for my hands to do, while my brain took a break. I don't knit as often lately, I just haven't had time, but it is such a nice escape.

Anyway, back to Ireland! I landed in Dublin after nearly 18 hours of travel, at 9:30am local time. I think that I was the last one off the plane, taking my time getting my backpack from the overhead compartment, and calmly exiting the fuselage. (Isn't fuselage such a great word?) Of course, though, my exit was not as calm, cool and collected as I imagined it would be, as a flight attendant had to tell me three times that I was dragging a pillowcase on my foot down the aisle. Like a girl leaving the high school bathroom, dragging toilet paper, I turned red. "Haha! Just trying to take it with me," I finally said, once I was close enough to the woman to actually hear what she was saying. Up until that point, I did the smile and nod and pretend like you know what's going on. Maybe add a little chuckle, like yeah, I'm in on the joke. I don't know what you're saying, but yeah, I got it! I did not get it.

I also did not get how to exit the airport. I tried to go out the emergency exit. Figured out that was wrong. Then I went to the bathroom (let me tell you, Irish toilets are weird, at least the airport toilets are) and walked out the wrong direction. Finally, though, I found a sign that said "non EU passports." Yes! That's what I want.

I have to be honest, the Guarda guy checking passports was not as nice as I was expecting. I walked up to the counter, and cheerily said. "Hello!" He could not be bothered to look up from his phone. "Hi." We got through the whole process, painlessly enough. "Why are you here?" "Do you have a letter from your school?" "Will you be living in Galway?" "You have to report to the Galway Guarda before January 31 with your official courses." "Here's your passport back."

The bright spot in the checkin was that I couldn't find a pen to fill out my paperwork, so I asked an American girl in front of me in line to borrow one. Turns out she goes to school in Virginia and is headed to Galway for a short, 2 week study abroad program. So, I'm in Ireland, sitting next to another American college student. Go figure!

So far, the drive feels like when I drove through Kansas - only far greener. It rains here, after all. In fact, it's raining now. Dublin was a really interesting city, but between there and here, which according to the giant GPS at the front of the bus is called ballygharraun west, it had been pretty much country. Beautiful country, but after traveling for practically 24 hours straight, I cannot wait to be in my new bed, in my new flat, in Galway!!!

Who needs sleep?

Well friends, I have now packed, unpacked, rearranged, repacked, unpacked, and repacked about twelve times, and I can confidentially say, I'm ready! I leave LAX, and the SoCal I'm comfortable with, in 7 hours. Sure, I still have an hour drive to the LAX Hilton. Sure, I was supposed to take a sleep-inducing decongestant to clear up my ear infection several hours ago. But alas, I was too busy packing and repacking and unpacking and panicking for any of that before now.

I think it's ok, though. I think I'm allowed to panic - at least, a little bit. Recently I was told that I'm allowed to be scared because anxiety will keep me alert and safe. It just gets dangerous if I let the anxiety interfere with the fun. So, I just won't. I won't let my heightened nerves interfere with the fact that I am about to take off for a new country and an experience unlike any I've ever had. Of course I had to fight back a tear or two when my brother gave me that last tight squeeze. It's only natural to fear the release from that level of comfort, but I'm excited. I am so excited!!

So here's to having fun, to meeting new people, and to kissing the Blarney Stone!

Adventure Awaits...

I find myself in the midst of an emotional storm as I sit down to write this, my first blog post. On the one hand, I am terribly excited to start this upcoming adventure in my life. I am about to leave for Ireland to study abroad at the National University of Ireland, Galway for five months. WHAT? I am living the dream!! However, I must admit that there is a certain level of anxiety that comes along with the adventure. I am worried about missing the incredible friends and family members that I'll be leaving behind as I venture across the pond. I am worried about finding the right bus that will take me from Dublin to Galway. I am worried that I will somehow manage to blowup the flat (yeee I'll be living in a flat - see, there's that underlying excitement) trying to convert fahrenheit to celcius while cooking for myself. And most of all, I am worried about where this journey to "find myself" will lead. 

You see, right now, I am lost. Sure, I can give myself many labels - I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt. I am a friend. I am a college student, and I am an English major. I am a lot of things; I fill a lot of roles. But at the core of my being, I am just a little lost. For so many years I have defined myself in a very specific set of regulations, but as I explore myself and my surroundings, the ties that once kept me so tightly bound are being snipped, and I am billowing out, like a Christmas tree being released from its netting. I am sure that once these upcoming moments in my life take shape, as the ornaments around my being, I will have a clearer picture of myself. I will be a beautiful human, shining for those around me. (At least, I hope I will). But for now, my limbs still need some fluffing; my light is still a little dim. I suppose everyone experiences this sense of identity crisis at some point or another, but for me - the recovering control freak - this time of not knowing, or testing my boundaries is extraordinarily uncomfortable. It is very hard for me to admit that I do not have all of the answers. 

So, theoretical blog audience, here I am, admitting that I do not have all of the answers. I do not know what is to come. I do not know what my experience abroad will bring, but I sure hope that you'll enjoy the ride with me!