I hate blogging.
But that’s something I always forget, which explains why I currently have two blogs (one of which gets an update about every three months or so, the other…is this). I had a specific purpose in mind with this blog: to let people at home know what I’m doing in Dublin. Which is a great idea, except for the aforementioned problem—that is, my hatred of blogging. It boils down...
It’s our second summer in a row—the first one was yesterday.– Irish woman on the bus, about the current “heatwave” of two consecutive 70-degree days.
I write things
Short things, mostly. And music-related things. But here’s a collection of the things I’ve written so far for the Totally Dublin website. Live previews: Cut Copy Martha Reeves and the Vandellas Iron Maiden Jens Lekman Single reviews: “Fire with Fire” “Tenderoni” “Semi Precious Weapons”
My nana, Lena Saad, was the single strongest person I knew, or could ever imagine knowing. She passed away this morning. I can’t imagine the thought of getting through the day—any day—knowing she’s not there. I can’t imagine staying however many thousands of miles from home, in a strange country, away from my family and close friends. I can’t imagine...
Some things I’ve learned this week, in no particular order: Laundry costs almost twice as much here as in the US—unless you accidentally pay €4 instead of 3 because all you have is €2 coins and you expect the machine to give you change rather than steal your money, in which case it costs almost three times as much. Those annoying horns that all the World Cup spectators are blowing...
A Lucky Start?
Black pants are great. They hide all sorts of dirt and stains, perfect if you’re (hypothetically) the type of person who falls down staircases and hills (hypothetically) or can’t (hypothetically) drink coffee from a lidded cup without pouring some all over you. Or so I’ve heard. But do you know what black pants don’t hide? The surprise present left just above my right...
For those of you who aren’t following the World Cup (i.e., all of America), England and the US tied 1-1 in last night’s match. To the (mostly drunk) Americans I saw streaming through the streets of Dublin last night, it might as well been a victory in a decisive Revolutionary War Battle. Chants of “U-S-A!” and off-key bouts of “God Bless America” broke out all...
(Belated) Saint Patrick's Cathedral Photos →
What breed? Or, Lessons in the Irish Sense of...
Robin: Excuse me, what breed of horse is this?
Old Irish man with horse and carriage: It's a horse.
Robin: But what breed is it?
Old Irish man with horse and carriage: It's seven years old. OH. What breed, what breed. I couldn't hear you.
Robin: WHAT BREED IS IT?
Old Irish man with horse and carriage: It's an Irish horse.
Old Irish man with horse and carriage: No, it's a Friesian.
I work here now. →
Interview Ettiquette 101
It is not appropriate, when told by the internship placement agency that you must wear a suit to your interview (for a position as a journalism intern), to laugh in the placement manager’s face. It is slightly less appropriate still to wear a suit to an internship interview at an entertainment magazine with an irreverent tone and casual atmosphere. It is, however, appropriate for your new...
Culture shock. That’s a big thing. I’ve seen it represented visually as a roller coaster and an iceberg, and I’m sure there are countless other drawings designed to give culturally (and, apparently, verbally) isolated American students an idea of what to expect when studying abroad. Even the name implies a gigantic sensation. It’s not culture tremble, culture shiver or...
In the spirit of trying new things, here’s a fun little game I have plenty of experience with via icebreakers, Community Service Center reflections and, occasionally, lunches with Anna and Fu. Ready, set, aaaaand—HIGH POINT, LOW POINT: High Point of last night: went to a club for the first time, in downtown Dublin. Low Point of last night: received a reminder that I am absolutely,...
This is not a blog post.
It is the online version of caffeine. Last night’s sleep total was a couple hours somewhere over the Atlantic, and it really did not count. But 7pm is apparently too early to go to bed, and I really do feel obligated to post something about my first day in Dublin. So I’m going to Tumble my way into perkiness, or at least semi-awakeness. I like lists, because I’m lazy, so...