You may remember I wrote a previous post about a trip I was planning to take.

Here’s the story of what happened on my journey to Ireland…

Before I even arrived on the Emerald Isle, I knew I would be exposed to a lot of differences from my home country (and by home country I mean Texas, of course). However, I didn’t expect the differences to begin at the airport and I certainly didn’t expect them to begin in the bathroom…

That’s right, the first picture I took on this trip was of a toilet in the Dublin International Airport. It just looked, well, strange to me. So I took its picture. And now you know what a toilet in Ireland looks like.

After taking the above picture, I changed into more appropriate attire. Dublin was a good 40 degrees cooler than San Antonio and let’s just say, it was a welcome change to walk down the sidewalk and not feel like it was sautéing me. At the same time, walking around Dublin in the normal uniform for Texas in the month of May (t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops) would have sent me into hypothermia within three steps outside of the airport, so a change of clothes was definitely necessary.

Then came the hell that is known as currency exchange. If you think you’re financially strapped in our country, then I don’t recommend a trip to any country within the EU anytime soon (or the UK). I seriously had to pick my jaw up off the exchange counter when the $100 I handed over came back to me at a much lower denomination and minus a processing fee. It was like being at a gas pump when gas was almost $5 a gallon – that kind of feeling (you know, the bent over one). Taken advantage of doesn’t even begin to cover how this experience felt.

Once I semi recovered from the sticker shock, we were on our way to locate the bus that would take us to Cork. I was pretty disappointed when we were told we would not be taking this one…

…cause, come on, how fun would it be to ride around Ireland in this bus? But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

I wish I could tell you the bus ride to Cork was breathtaking, magical, and filled with awe at the beauty of the natural landscape. I’m sure it was every bit of those descriptions, but I fell asleep and slept pretty much the whole way there (thanks a lot jet lag). All I managed to stay awake for was this…

In case you forgot what that is, that’s rain. Don’t worry, I had forgotten what it looked like too.

We did stop for lunch on the way to Cork and you know I did wake up for that (those that know me best know I don’t miss a meal).

And so, in the sweet little town of Cashel we weary travelers stopped for a bite to eat and to take in some of the sights…

A street in Cashel

An old castle, the Rock of Cashel

 The cemetery at the Rock of Cashel

Street sign in Gaelic and English

Lunch!

I took this one because it made me think of my sister Jodi. Looked like a cool salon.

The Irish clearly have their priorities in order. I’m seriously considering opening one of these in San Antonio.

Although we only spent a couple of hours in Cashel, I really enjoyed the visit. It was the beginning of a dream come true.

With a heavy heart, I got back on the bus (I seriously could have stayed there the entire trip – it was like Jewett, only much more charming) and promptly fell back asleep. Waking up to the vision of our hotel both startled and relieved me.

Believe it or not, I didn’t take any pictures of the hotel (oops). So in lieu of personal pictures, here’s a link to The River Lee Hotel:

http://www.doylecollection.com/locations/cork_hotels/the_river_lee_hotel.aspx

The rest of this first day was pretty uneventful.

I ordered room service.

Was not expecting my 7-Up to come in a glass bottle, but it was a pleasant surprise.

The next day…

…we went to the University of College Cork. Quite possibly the most beautiful college campus I’ve ever visited.

The students attending this university really make the most of their campus. I saw many of them sitting outside studying, reading, talking to friends, riding bikes on the paths, etc. I really could see myself coming back to Cork one day to teach (they have an American Lit department, so it wouldn’t be a far-fetched idea).

We spent each weekday morning on the campus listening to mini-lectures from various faculty. And each weekday afternoon we took mini-field trips.

The first was to Blarney.

Yep, you guessed it, home to the infamous Blarney stone.

What you don’t know about said stone until you go to Blarney…

…it’s at the top of this castle.

No problem, right? Yeah…this place was built over 800 years ago. The stairs 1) wind up for about 8 flights and 2) are so narrow you have to walk up sideways.

Needless to say, I was not enthusiastic about kissing the stone by the time I got to the top. And I was even less enthusiastic when I saw the Blarney stone:

There, above and to the left of the man’s hand – where the stone is noticeably darker than the rest of the wall – is where you plant your lips.

Given my history of illness (apparently, when I get sick, I GET SICK) and knowing about half the world had been there before me, I declined to kiss the Blarney stone. My inaction caused a lot of reaction back home. I was told I would regret not doing it. I’m happy to report I’m very glad I didn’t.

I did, however, get some pretty nice pictures of the castle…

Other than visiting Blarney castle, we visited this place:

Blarney Woollen Mills – the largest family owned business in the Republic. The current CEO is the daughter of the founder. When she was 16, her father put her with a cart full of knickknack type of souvenirs at the base of Blarney Castle and she sold these goods to tourists. When the mill went bust in the 70s, her father bought it and turned into a much larger version of the cart. It was highly successful from day one. About 10 years ago, the current CEO visited the U.S. and impressed with the way stores such as Crate & Barrel and Pottery Barn were laid out, she changed the entire layout of the mill. Along with souvenirs, she incorporated goods marketed toward the locals of the area, such as bedroom furniture and kitchen staples. She also turned part of the mill into a cafeteria type restaurant, similar to what IKEA stores have – only they serve traditional Irish food. If you want to learn more about the store, check out their site:

www.blarney.com

We went back to the hotel after the little adventure in Blarney. Here’s a shot of the city of Cork from my floor:

And a swan in the river that runs right in front of the hotel:

The next day we again had a mini-lecture and a mini-trip. This time we went to the Tyndall National Institute. It’s a research facility owned by the university. We were not allowed to take pictures inside the place, but I gotta say, as someone who is not scientifically inclined, I was seriously impressed by the work they do there. What made the trip even more cool -  the Queen of England had been there only a few days before us. Here’s a link to their site:

http://www.tyndall.ie/

Not sure if the site explains what they are researching, but may be worth taking a look at if your interested in any type of scientific research. Oh, and a Texan is running the place and has been for over 15 years.

And the day after the visit to the Tyndall institute, we took a trip here:

For those working in the computer industry in any capacity, the name should ring a bell. And for my fellow Aggies, please note I HAD to change the block marked Company (and also note they wrote T.U., priceless).

Without photos the details of the visits to Tyndall and EMC2 are pretty boring, so I’ll move on.

On Thursday, we took a day trip to Kinsale.

Sweet little town.

 With a harbor full of ships…

 …and old buildings…

 …and signs of home.

If you’d like to learn more about Kinsale, yep, here it is – another link:

http://kinsale.ie

Our next field trip took us to what was probably my favorite place, Killarney. Why was it my fav? Well…

 …we went here…

 …and I fell in love with this little lady.

I met this barn kitty…

…and this one.

Despite the mean faces, they were both friendly barn kitties. Kinda made me miss these two:

For those who follow me on Facebook, you know I refer to Jenna’s two cats as the Bad Kitty Brigade. These two are a mess. Fun, but a mess.

Did I mention how green Ireland is?

There are literally so many shades of green, you cannot count them all.

After making our way back to town,

we took a cab to a working farm.

As I was walking alone through the farm, imagine my surprise when I came across this:

If you are a fan of the book Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland, you’ll understand why I was fascinated. For a moment I really wondered if this was Dinah looking for Alice. Turns out, she’s just a good mama cat, waiting for dinner to come out. A worker at the farm told me she hid her kittens in the roof here:

She had them hidden in there to keep them away from the resident fox. Smart lady.

It took me a long time to make my way through the farm. And with views like these, you can see why…

Then I met this kid:

It followed me the rest of the journey. I was all set to think Bad Kitties only existed at my house. But then, we came across this little guy:

And the chase ensued. Poor little bunny. I have no idea if it survived or not.

At the end of my tour, I went back to the front to wait for the others.

I have no idea who is supposed to take caution here. Is it the person walking across the road? Is it the driver of the car? Both? Who knows.

The last two days of the trip were spent in Dublin.

We stayed at Trinity College. I do not recommend staying on campus. Beautiful to look at – not the best accommodations. I’m pretty sure cruise ships have bigger showers than the ones they have here.

The entrance to Trinity College

Say what you want about our President – he was extremely well received in Ireland. It was a very humbling experience to watch this country welcome the leader of ours.

Went all the way to Ireland and saw – the Alamo?!?! P.S. A plate of nachos was $14 Euro.

A street performer. I really thought he was a statue.

An extremely fun place to visit. FYI, you get a free pint on the top floor.

Mr. Guinness was a smart man. 9000 year lease to make beer. Genius.

The President of the Republic of Ireland’s house. Oh, and their President is a woman. With a Ph.D. Kinda puts some perspective on the history of our presidencies.

Oscar Wilde’s house. Now a part of Trinity College. The Irish American department holds classes here.

And that folks was my trip to Ireland.

The next day we went to Dublin International, where once again I cried about the exchange rate and changed back into clothes more suitable for the desert.

And was I ever glad I did.

The moment I stepped onto the gangway in Austin, a heat filled gust of wind came over me. Yuck. I immediately missed the 50-something degree weather and spontaneous rain showers I become accustomed to. But, as a little girl once said, “There’s no place like home” and I was happy to be back in mine.

To the few that actually read this blog, this is possibly the last one I post on this site. I’m looking into changing over to another site. One that doesn’t jack the pictures around (as you witnessed above) and hopefully has a more user-friendly app for my iPhone.

Hope you enjoyed my little story.

For me the opportunity really was a trip of a lifetime…

Let’s just say while I’ve been absent, life has been happening…

Going to school as a full-time graduate student is nothing like being a full-time undergrad student. Someone should have slapped me for thinking two less classes equalled a lot less work/stress/time lost.

Somewhere among the chaos of mid-terms, teaching projects, and final papers, I managed to have a much better second semester in grad school than the first (and I have 2 As to prove it). The best part of course was boarding a plane in Chicago and stepping off it in Dublin. My experience in Ireland could AND will take up several posts and I do plan to share it on here, but one thing a time.

While walking the streets of Cork, Kinsale, Killarney, and Dublin, I thought about why I am pushing myself to go through school at such a rapid pace. And the more I thought about it, looked at the calendar on my phone, and talked it out with classmates, I discovered I will not graduate any sooner by being a full timer. So…

Instead of taking two courses this summer like I planned, I am in only one and I am in it because it is required for my degree plan and they will not offer it again for at least another year. And before I bore you with any more details, all I will say about my future plans for this grad program are to take 2 classes next semester and figure out how to line up my 2 thesis courses and final classroom course in order graduate in Dec. 2012. I cannot graduate any earlier than that, so there is no need to be stressing myself out over it.

I don’t know if it was the strange new land I was walking around or the fact that by the end of this summer my age will start with a 3 instead of a 2, but I’ve thought a lot about life and what I think it should be about since my trip to the Emerald Isle.

While I don’t have it all figured out, I do know this:

1) I want to spend more time with my family and friends.

2) I don’t want to feel so overwhelmed all the time.

I have one week of summer school left and then I will get somewhat of a break. I use the word “somewhat” because I have to take a graduate exam in August and I must read Jane Eyre (how terrible! – note, sarcasm). However, I will be free to spend more time with loved ones and do the things I’ve had to put off doing, i.e. unpack the boxes in the closet I still haven’t gotten to since we moved almost a year ago.

And I will do my best to not be so absent…

I mean, one day you’re in your bedroom with your favorite radio station softly streaming the latest hits as you study for an exam 30 minutes before bed and the next day you’re wearing a polyester blue cap and gown as you grasp your high school diploma in one hand and shake your principal’s with the other. Then you spend a summer hanging out with friends and family you know you won’t see much of once you go away for college and you try to make the most of it.

Suddenly the sweltering days and humid nights lead you to the day you carry and unpack boxes into a sardine can of a dorm room. You say good-bye to your mom and meet new friends for pickle chips and burgers. The days then turn into an endless parade of going to class, study groups, and parties with strangers. You make some good grades and some bad ones too. You date some guys who turn out to be wrong for you. You some meet people who will be your friend ten years after that incident that almost got you arrested.

You make some bad choices.

You try the best you can to make up for them.

You work two jobs to pay your bills.

You watch as a tragedy unfolds before your eyes in a cloudless Tuesday sky.

One week later you find yourself in the last place you would ever set foot in, signing your life away. Three months later you say good-bye to your family and friends again.

You make it through the beginning.

You make your way to a new life.

You’re tired of being alone.

You meet someone new.

You convince yourself they are the right one for you.

They break your heart.

You stay anyway.

Then you are given a blessing.

Then it’s taken away.

You watch as the unthinkable unfolds before your eyes in the early morning hours of Middle Eastern sky.

Heartbroken, depressed, and confused, you make the choice deep down you know is only temporary.

The euphoria is bittersweet. The world makes less and less sense.

You are given another blessing.

Nine months later she’s yours to hold.

To protect.

To love.

Things go from bad to worse.

The rollercoaster never stops.

Your only option is to jump off. Who will catch you?

With arms wrapped tightly around your baby girl, you jump and run. Run into the unknown. Run into the future.

Day after day the world becomes a little brighter.

You make another wrong choice.

Then another.

And another.

Dreams slowly become close enough to touch.

Finally, you make one more wrong decision and then you make a better one.

And a better one.

And a better one.

But all the good decisions, the hard work, and the faith cannot prepare you for the words you know aren’t fair to hear. You become sad, angry, and upset. Your hard work should count for something. Didn’t someone once say it was never too late to change your fate?

Then you find yourself walking the thin line between acceptance and indifference. You become grateful for what you have and leave your future up to a higher power.

Then comes the phone call that changes your life, only you don’t know it at the time.

Then comes another call.

And another.

Before you know it, you’re on a second first date with a guy you never wanted to break up with but had to because your lives were going in different directions.

You laugh about barbecue pits and gardening tools.

You pick out wine and drink it together.

You go to a club and make the first move because if he was too scared to make the first move the first time around, why would he do it the second time?

Several months of dating go by.

You accept a proposal while freezing in a downtown hotel courtyard.

You put your heart, sweat, late night and early morning hours into finishing a dream you started only a year before just to get your 30 second walk across a makeshift stage to accept the piece of paper that says your dream came true.

You pack your life into boxes.

You move for love.

You accept a position in graduate school because it’s the only offer you’ve received since graduating.

You marry for love.

You struggle with fitting in, making friends, and still trying to find yourself.

And after all of this…

…there are people who will put you down. Intentionally and unintentionally. Some are doing it out of spite and because they are so unhappy with their own lives, they have to put someone else down in order to make themselves feel better. Some do it unconsciously and because they are so unhappy with their own lives, they have to put someone else down in order to make themselves feel better.

After all I have been through in life, it’s interesting to me that I still come across judgement.

I know I took the long way around.

I know what I have done may not be popular or right in the eyes of others.

I know I love what I have and I’m grateful for my life.

I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the choices I have made.

I’m a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a student.

I know some people have no idea about what makes me who I am.

I love.

I feel.

And I hurt.

Before you decide to pass judgment upon others, think about how you would feel if someone thought ill of you because you chose to be a stay at home mom, not to have children, or any other system bucking choice people love to criticize others for making.

We all get one shot at life.

I’m out to make mine count…

A small town begets a small school district, which in turn becomes a breeding ground for cliques. Those who weren’t in a cool group desperately wanted to be in one and those in one subjugated themselves to do whatever it took to maintain the status.

I was not in a cool group.

I was outwardly strange and inwardly seeking acceptance. The people who hung out with me did so because they pitied me; not because they thought I was worth knowing. Even within the small circle I was allowed into, I was ridiculed and made fun of. I was bestowed with the label of ‘quiet’ toward the end of my high school years and it seemed to puzzle many in the favored group. It was no mystery. I wasn’t a member of a cool group. In that environment I was no one. An insignificant brick in the wall.

It was my place. And I knew it.

Thank goodness adolescence gives way to adulthood.

The summer after high school graduation I left home for good. It was a new and scary time for me. Scary because I met people who actually liked me for me. They didn’t poke fun at my character. They invited me places because they really wanted me to be a part of the fun. It took me a long time to get used to people wanting me for more than being the brunt of jokes. Sometimes I question whether or not I really have gotten used to it.

Now that I’ve been on my own for a while, I never thought I’d be dealing with issues I felt I left behind on graduation day.

Turns out I was wrong.

There are only five of us in my graduate school program. Five. That’s very small compared to other universities. With such a small group of people, you would think – well I think – we should basically all just get along. We’re all in the same boat. We’re all after the same goal – to graduate with a master’s degree in our chosen field. So why aren’t we helping each other through this?

Very recently, it was my turn to give a presentation in one of my classes. I worked pretty hard on it. After grueling through the presentation (I still have an enormous fear of speaking in front of others due to how I was treated growing up and quite often I experience the symptoms of a panic attack when I have to speak) , the class was granted a break. I stayed behind for a few moments to ask the professor if what I did was okay. When we were done, I went to the ladies room. Little did I know opening the door meant I would single-handedly turn back time.

I walked in on a classmate talking bad about me to another classmate. In a dazed state I walked into a stall and kept listening. I literally felt as if I were fifteen again and had walked into the volleyball locker room. All I wanted to do at that time in my life was play the sport I had grown attached to. All I want to do now is study the field I’ve grown attached to.The difference in age between then and now is huge, but treatment from others apparently has not altered itself at all.

This other student obviously had no clue I was there and kept on with her rant. She finally came out of her stall and as she was gibbering away, I causally stepped out of mine. Yes, this really happened. And yes, the look on her face was priceless and so was the way she tried to play it off. It never crossed my mind to do anything but play it cool. However, I went back to class dumbfounded as she continued to talk me up. And ever since then I’ve wondered – am I in a cool group situation again?

I’ve no answer to that question. I really don’t know. I’m seriously perplexed that at my age I’m forced to deal with something I went through in my teenage years. What I do know is this incident has brought up a lot of long repressed feelings I thought I had made peace with. Have I really come all this way only to end up right back where I started?

I’m not good at many things and I have struggled most of my life trying to feel like I fit in somewhere. Within the realm of higher education, I thought I found it. Seems to me all I’ve found is a different version of a school I once went to. I’m torn between going back to ‘quiet’ me in order to survive the rest of the year and continuing to be myself as I have been doing thus far. There’s also a part of me that feels I’ll end up in a worse position than the one I was in when I was younger no matter how I choose to be when I’m in class.

Not knowing my place is difficult.

It’s much easier on my heart when I know where I stand…

Different for many reasons. Different because we’ve been living in a rut and decided to break free. However, fleeting feelings and temporary change rarely have lasting effects.

This past weekend, I almost made peace with the city. Almost.

I guess this all started a couple of weeks ago when my very observant six-year-old asked if she could visit her Granny because “it has been a really, really long time” since she spent a weekend with there. After getting in touch with Granny, we settled on a weekend and for the first time in two months, my husband and I were going to be left to our own devices. He made reservations at what is supposed to be a unique place to dine and if you’ve ever been to San Antonio, you know what I’m talking about.

So this planned weekend gets here.

Jenna goes with her Granny.

We go to visit friends.

I had too much wine, but I also had a good time (husband did too).

The next day I had to go to class – it’s the only downside to this study abroad trip to Ireland, we have class every other Saturday. As I drive past downtown, I see the location where we will be going later and think to myself that maybe, just maybe, this place isn’t so bad after all. (The dark clouds looming overhead should have been my clue of foreshadowing).

Class goes well and I come home. We get ready for our “date” and head to our destination.

After my husband missed the exit for parking, we double back around and I silently thank my mom for teaching me to be early for appointments.

The restaurant is at the top of a tower and rotates to give a 360 view of the city while dining. Because I have an extreme dislike for living here, I thought my mind would change by seeing the area from a high altitude.

It didn’t.

This place is nothing more than a mix of dilapidated buildings, highrise hotels and condos, and fancy, albeit small, stadiums. There were so many police, fire, and medical vehicles running around, I was a relieved to be far removed from the sounds of their sirens. It’s clear this city just sprang up around the walls surrounding the most famous building in the state, without any rhyme, reason, or plan.

And as if looking out over this city I continue to loathe wasn’t enough, we had the waitress from hell.

We ordered appetizers that she didn’t write down.

When she pulled out her order pad to take our dinner selections down, her box of Camel Blacks hit my husband.

She asked if we wanted bread (we said yes), she delivered bread to a party seated after us first.

When our meals arrived before our appetizers, she claims to have seen our appetizers sitting in the window earlier. Really? If you saw them, why didn’t you bring them to us?

After we got what we assume was someone else’s appetizer order, I tried my best to make the most of the rest of the meal. And everything was going well until the waitress came by and asked if I wanted more to drink. I said no because my glass was at least half full. She then proceeded to take my drink cup away.

Wow.

Just because I didn’t want a refill didn’t mean I didn’t want the rest of the drink. I still had some steak and bread to eat but whatever. At that point I was angry with the experience, I just wanted to leave. It was a shame we had such bad service because the food was impeccable.

As soon as we got off the elevator, I told my husband if we never went there again, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings (or something to that effect). Frankly, if we never go downtown again, it wouldn’t bother me. Between this fiasco, the craziness we endured on our wedding night, and the fact that I cannot wrap my mind around what is so “super” about our “Super Street”, I have come to the conclusion I will never be happy with this place. It’s just something I’ll have to live with.

Sorry San Antonio. You and I are just going to have to figure out how to co-exist.

The good news is I’m not alone.

And thankfully we were able to get together for a second night in a row…

Sitting between Lust and Gluttony, it’s perhaps the most embarrassing one of the group.

And I’m guilty of it.

Welcome to my affiliation with Envy.

I guess I should be a bit more specific. The envy I possess stems from a little place called Facebook.

I don’t mean to have it. However, it’s hard to not look at what friends and former school classmates are up to these days. Many of the people on my Friends list are those I went Kindergarten through Senior year with. Knowing every aspect of their lives for such a long period of time means I feel somewhat obligated to keep tabs on them (even though I’m really not). Many of us have not spoken face to face since graduation day, yet through the magic of technology, we know everything about each other again as if we haven’t missed a beat (or so we think). There are, of course, people on my Friends list whom I met post-high school graduation and again, this one website keeps me up to date on what is going on in their respective lives. What does this have to do with Envy? PLENTY.

After reading a recent study by CBS, I have hypochondriacally diagnosed myself as one of millions of people who experience what is known as Facebook Envy. Look it up. There’s a good chance you have it too.

I’ll admit, I look at the status updates and wonder why I can’t be as happy as everyone else (aside from my personal problems previously mentioned). Status updates make me take a serious look at my own life.

I don’t have a new car. I’m still driving my little sedan I bought over eight years ago. It could and probably will fall apart soon.

I’m not wearing the latest fashions, but I never was one to subscribe to the fashionable set. Still, I notice that I don’t wear the same kind of clothes or hair style as you.

The job promotion.

The new baby.

Where did I go wrong and everyone else I know on Facebook go right? Crap, I really suck.

Sure, I have plenty to be grateful for and believe me, I know it. Graduate school. A trip to Ireland in a few months. A new house. A family. Do we have our problems? Yes we do. It’s a part of life to have said problems. However, I haven’t kept the negative aspects of my life out of the public domain. Not every dirty detail makes its way onto this blog or my status updates, but many do and I can honestly say I give more insight into my world than most people do. It was a very hard thing to admit I’m not a happy newlywed, but I did it and did so in case there was someone else who was feeling the same way but afraid to admit it. Sometimes it’s secretly relieving to know you aren’t alone in your seemingly outrageous feelings/thoughts. And I have shared the good as well, not to hurt anyone but to share my good news (because frankly, I don’t get good news often). That being said…

…it hurts to see so many people be successful ALL OF THE TIME. Deep down I know they’ve worked hard to get what they have and it’s not all sunshine and roses, but many never let on that it isn’t perfect and in turn, project a false view of their lives on my computer screen. Congrats to the .1% who have The Happiness every waking moment. You are truly blessed. However, on my end, here’s the hard truth -

I struggle to make it through the day most days. And it’s no wonder – I’m a recently remarried, former single mom. Here’s a glance at what I deal with:

Emails and texts from my ex regarding phone call time (pretty much a daily thing).

Phone calls from the school nurse or my daughter’s teacher (at least once a week).

Two very bad kitties knocking over stuff on the kitchen counter (again daily and every now and then they manage to knock over a barstool, which is beyond my comprehension).

The printer running out of ink or paper or just plain refusing to work (weekly).

Sitting in traffic after spending an hour at a “plus” supermarket off of a supposed “super street” while police work to clean up a fender bender (weekly).

Working on multiple projects for school (daily).

Door-to-door “salespeople” interrupting the work for school (daily – but this comes with the new-home-in-a-new-neighborhood territory).

Anxiety about living where I do, because I’m not a city person (daily as well, I really loathe my surroundings).

And there are many, many more I could list, but it would take a long time and I really need to work on school – hopefully the point comes across with the selection above.

After dealing with the daily stuff, it’s hard to open Facebook and see someone got a promotion or someone is having a baby. I know you don’t do it to hurt people intentionally (and as I stated before I’ve shared my good news too), but I’m one of those sensitive types that takes stuff too personally. Reading you got a promotion just reminds me that I still don’t have a job even though I have been applying for them for six consecutive months. And all the sonogram and newborn pictures just remind me my marriage is not stable enough to support the decision to have more children.

So…

What happens next? I really don’t know (insert exhausted laugh here). Additional online research has led me to info on how to put yourself on a “Facebook diet”. Seems like something I should try – unfortunately, I’m hooked on a couple of games that are played through the site. Cutting back feels like the right thing to do, however, I’m trying to do that with caffeine and it’s not going well. (Stupid Starbucks – thanks for being within a mile radius of me at all times.) Yet, for my sanity (and my family’s), I owe it myself (and my family) to limit my Facebook face time.

From now on, I plan to be a less frequent visitor to Facebook. I feel bad enough about myself without seeing the seemingly perfect lives of others. Maybe I took the article to heart a bit too much, but it was probably just a matter of time before I realized I was doing myself a disservice. If you see me liking your status or comment it on it, rest assured it’s sincere. If you don’t get either, no offense, but I can’t handle your “perfect” existence. I know it’s not intentional – I have a lot of silly notions that keep me from distinguishing your good luck/happiness from my own perceived failure. I know true friends will accept this and help me overcome the BS. Posting this will surely result in deletion from some and that’s the price I pay for being honest.

I’m a mess folks. If you know me, you probably already know.

Envy is a bitch.

Technology induced Envy is an even bigger one…

And like most people, I have other dreams – ones I label “How Nice” and file in my Dreams cabinet. Unlike most people, I have been fortunate enough to pull a file or two and lived them.

Reconnecting with Cody was one.

Graduate school is another.

It is because of graduate school that I get to pull yet another file and this is the book that started the dream…

About four years ago, my step sister invited me to go shopping with her. We went to the local mall and saw the bookstore was going out of business. I had just moved back home a few months before and we were both in the beginning stages of our respective divorces. Thumbing through the portable racks, I came across the above book. The pictures inside were amazing and for $3, a real bargain. It was the start of my dream to visit Ireland.

The book sat on a shelf on my bookcase until I got my first house, where it became a coffee table staple. Over the years I’ve sparingly picked it up and glanced through it thinking “I would love to visit someday”. The thought would be placed in the back of my mind as soon as I closed the book and revived each time I opened it. Others would pick it up and marvel at the photos and perhaps their own dream of visiting there was born.

It moved with us to the new house, of course, but until this morning my book has been living in a box (along with our other books, except the ones I’ve been using for school). Why am I just now pulling it out? Well…

A couple of weeks ago, I had lunch with a few ladies from my last semester classes. One casually mentioned the management course we saw advertised on a flyer before our winter break. She signed up for it and suggested I do the same. With my education being funded by the government, I must take courses that are on my degree plan. What does any of this have to do with the above book?

This management class focuses on one specific economy and a part of the course includes an 8 day trip in May to the city at the heart of said economy – the city of Cork, in where else, Ireland.

So, I emailed my advisor. She bugged some people in the English department. A few days ago I got an email saying this course is a go. Yesterday I filed the necessary paperwork to have the course paid for.

Yep, that’s right, in four months I’ll be headed to Ireland.

Feel free to be jealous, I would be if I were you.

I’m not going to get into the specifics of the changes he will make; this is my place to ramble about myself. What I will say is I recognize I should have been doing some things differently all along…

Moving away from home didn’t mean I had to give up everything that made me happy. It’s true I couldn’t bring my family, friends, and favorite places with me, but I didn’t have to stop doing the things that can be done no matter where I am.

Like working out everyday.

Searching for new music.

Taking a drive through the country.

Napping on the couch.

And countless other little things that keep my happy meter set on full. It’s also important I keep a happy environment for my daughter. Kids are resilient but are perceptive as well. She can sense my unhappy state without me telling her. My daughter doesn’t deserve to deal with it.

So, some changes have been made. Some changes will be made. My happiness is slowly coming back and so is my husband’s. We are recovering. We are moving forward. We are changing…

It’s one we as human beings strive to live by. Our laws are made to uphold it. We vow to tell it to our loved ones. While we foolishly tell ourselves we live the truth, well, the truth is, we spend a good deal of time avoiding it. Myself included.

A few days ago, I was forced to face the truth I’ve been avoiding and to be cliché, brace yourself folks because it ain’t pretty…

It all started with a poorly told joke by my new husband. The subject was a sensitive one and it made me appear in an unflattering light.

Through the laughter, (because you have to laugh when these things happen among friends) I stood face to face with the reality of just how unhappy I have been. Not about moving or adjusting to life in a new city. The unspoken but very often felt unhappiness I have with our relationship.

Yes, gasp!, a newlywed unhappy with her relationship.

After you process that information, consider the following.

1) We both believed our lives were going to get better after I moved here.

2) We both believed finding each other post divorces after we broke up with each other almost ten years ago was more than a coincidence.

3) We both believed we knew better this time around because we knew what a bad marriage was.

The reality: since I’ve moved things have been very rocky. I haven’t been able to get a job. I’ve missed my family terribly. I’ve fretted over every negative comment from my daughter’s teacher; thinking it was a result of being uprooted from the only family environment she remembers living in. And running into each other again, it really was not so coincidental when you know that one of my best friends is also his cousin. It was bound to happen eventually. The real magical part was we were both single at the time. Oh, and just because we know what our idea of a bad marriage is, it doesn’t mean we know how to avoid having another one. The truth is, this whole me moving here and us getting married thing hasn’t gone very well – for either of us. Only I didn’t realize it wasn’t going well for him until he opened the can of worms with the joke he told.

One important aspect you should know: we both share the character flaw of using humor to avoid dealing with the truth we deem painful. Neither of us wants to admit or recognize our relationship is floating in rocky water. We are both quick to wield the sarcasm shield in order to cover the truth.

Instead of confronting him on the spot, I waited until our friends went home and my daughter was in bed to tell my husband how his joke was hurtful to me. The reaction I got was beyond anything I ever expected. He said he was tired and his head hurt. He wanted to go to bed – in the other bedroom. Instead of recognizing yet another sign of the truth, I did the worst thing possible. I got upset.

How dare he cop-out like that, I thought. After all I’ve done to bring us together, he can’t even be bothered to talk to me? It wasn’t the right reaction but the truth is, I was scared. I had just been hit with facing reality. I reacted badly. And I didn’t stop there.

I woke him up.

I got upset some more.

He apologized for the joke.

He went back to sleep.

I ignored the problem too.

For a couple of hours anyway.

Since waking up after this event, I have forced myself to keep looking at the truth:

We are not a bright, shiny, happy newly married couple. We are struggling.

I haven’t been happy with our relationship recently and neither has he.

I have placed the blame on the location instead of the real culprit – me. I’m not having issues because of the city; they are there because I chose to be with the man I love and it is not working out the way we thought it would. And he has to deal with a lot – more than I would choose to deal with. He took on a single mom and her little girl whose father is very involved in her life. I’m lucky he hasn’t kicked me to the curb yet.

I try very hard to be a good mother; I know I could try harder though and I do plan to.

And for the finale (because I brought up the word mother), I’ve realized the real reasons behind the constant, obsessive feelings I’ve had about wanting a baby were for the wrong ones. The pregnancy texts, emails, and Facebook postings that have appeared before my eyes are the result of what I really crave: a happy marriage. I really haven’t been envious of those having a baby; I just want to be in that happy place they are in relationship-wise that is causing the babies to be created. I even feel this way about my ex – I honestly couldn’t care less they are having a baby (with the exception of the effect it is going to have on my daughter), what tears me up is his relationship with his wife is on better terms than mine is with my husband. I hope with all my heart we figure out our relationship happy place. However, if we were to start trying to have a baby anytime in the near future, it would be to try to fix what is wrong rather than because we are happy together. No child deserves to come into the world that way.

So there’s the truth.

What happens next?

I really don’t know.

I have the idea of what I want for us, however, the directions on how to get there are missing. All I can do is hope and pray I make the right choices from here on out. And that we can figure this ugly truth out as a couple. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better, but I love my husband and I want to be with him. My daughter loves him and wants him to be Dad. I want to take the chance to make this right because it’s a chance worth taking…

Graduating in August fulfilled a lifelong dream. Accepting a grad school spot less than a month later created a new dream – one I didn’t even know I wanted.

Finals and wedding planning don’t mix.

Love is in more places than you realize; you just have to open your eyes and heart to see it.

True friends let nothing stand in their way to support you.

Never think a door has been closed forever. It may be stuck or locked but it can be opened.

Wanting what you can’t have sucks. Watching others have it is down right
excruciating.

The definition of certain words can be more in-depth than you realize. For example, the word Adventure comes in many different forms such as Exciting, Fun, and Amazing. However, it also comes in Difficult, Strange, and Upsetting.

When people tell you to make the most of something, 99% of the time you can bet they are saying it because they can’t relate to your situation.

Never give an opportunity to someone who doesn’t deserve it.

My idea and San Antonio’s idea of a “Super Street” differs greatly. For as long as I live I will never understand it’s supposed usefulness. And my
road rage has quadrupled since moving. 

Apparently I give off the wrong impression to those I know. I appreciate you thinking about me and wondering if I will worry about some little thing that happened years ago. If I spent my time worrying about said little things, I’d literally have no time for anything else. The past is the past. We can’t change it, so why dwell? I’m not a big worry wart so, don’t you worry about me being worried.

Most of the music I’ve heard on the radio is pure crap. Give me the 80s any day. 

I’m in the last place I ever expected to be. It has been rough, crazy, and strangely rewarding.

With another year behind me, I look forward to what the new year will bring and the lessons I have yet to learn…