A time for reflection

Autumn is traditionally a time for reflection, for turning under the plants left after harvesting to nurture the soil, to prepare for the winter. I have been doing a lot of reflection lately. I have been struggling to find words lately. My throat is sore from the effort of self-expression.

I have also been feeling isolated in my world as I experience the difficulty of communicating effectively. When I get home after an entire day of taking in information, trying to understand, trying to communicate confusion, ideas, or clarification, I am tired. And I sometimes don't have words for my blog.

So if another week goes by with my blog silent, please know it's not because I am not doing really interesting things. I just don't know how to tell you. =)

Really cool dance show

I will update this post later when I have the name of the show in front of me.

Gabry and I went to this dance show on Thursday last that was a unique project. Not entirely unique as the creator has had this piece performed by 15 groups, but still unlike work I am used to seeing. This man scripted/scored a performance in three parts. Three different choreographers/groups in three different countries each select three dancers to perform the choreography created from the script/score. They rehearse on their own while knowing they will all ultimately share the same performance space. When they are finally united, one group goes first the the first of three sections (each group will perform the three segments of the performance in the same order although the order (of groups and of segments) changes each night). During the intermission between segments, the second group comes onstage to prepare. Then, as the first group moves into their choreography for the second segment, the second group begins their choreography for the first segment. It builds to having all three groups on stage, each performing their choreography for a different segment and then tapers off until the third group is alone on the stage performing their choreography for the third segment. And then the stage is empty.

The script/score for the performance has specifications for when there must be text, when text is allowed, and when announcements are allowed. Each segment as 13 one-minute moments. For all three segments, some of the movements are the same. There are moments when everyone is doing 'disco' or 'working' or 'fucking' or 'dying' and then there are times when two groups are 'watching/waiting' while the other group does 'Lovestory'. It makes for interesting commentary on differences in culture, in movement, in private/public spaces, in personal spaces. And on rules, especially because some of the groups broke rules more deliberately than others.

It was really neat.

Soul Searching

I never make things simple, do I? In 8th grade Algebra class, my teacher gave me an award at the end of the year for consistently doing problems in the most complicated manner. I got the right answer and used sound technique, but I managed to always do it in a complicated way. And here I am, once again pursuing the methods that make sense to me, but are complicated nevertheless.

Case in point: I am in Ireland to do a Masters degree.

While I recognize that I am at the end of an intense, largely self-inflicted, week of study and am tired, justifiably, I also am aware that I have doubts about this year and this program. Wouldn't that just be like me to come all this way just to find out that I had this knowledge (or ability to obtain knowledge) already in me?

Rough Magic

I had the great pleasure to meet Lynne Parker, the Artistic Director of Rough Magic, a Dublin theatre company (see entry on The Bonefire). She came to speak to my class on Contemporary Irish Theatre in Context. It was really inspirational to hear her speak about the work they have done and the visions for the future, including an acknowledgement of the lack of training for the essential individuals in the infrastructure of theatre: producer, administrator, production manager, stage manager. They started the SEEDS program by commissioning scripts in order to develop the new work coming out of Dublin. They put no restrictions on the play content, although they do ask for manageable amount of characters to make staging them feasible.

This was so successful, they started SEEDS II and then SEEDS III, each time expanding the scope. They now include directors, producers, designers, and writers. And they 'teams' will stage something for a festival next summer/fall. They become their own mini-company and learn from the hands-on experience with resources, support, and guidance.

I will have to do a presentation for this class about funding and contemporary theatre in Ireland. If possible, I am going to focus on Rough Magic. They are doing some exciting and interesting stuff. And trying to change the template each time.

The Worst Martini

Mary loves a good martini. Vermouth swished on the glass, Kettle One, dirty, with three olives. She decided to risk ordering one at the restaurant where we had dinner tonight. We knew it was probably a bad choice, but we went for it. The waitress brought me a martini as well because I was so involved in the ordering process that she thought I wanted one, too.

They were made with tiny, black olives and tasted awful. We thought it was possibly the icky olives that had a different flavour than we were used to having. So I went downstairs to the bar to chat with the fellow who made them. We explained that we were used to different olives and the flavour was not what we were expecting. He said he would get us green olives for the future. We didn't feel rude and all seemed in good spirits. (if only...ha ha)

A few minutes later, I am preparing to make my exit so I am sure to catch my bus, when the waitress comes upstairs with two new martinis with little green olives in them. And they still taste awful! The green olives taste like the black olives, which is to say they don't taste like much and that bit of taste is not good.

Mary and I decide we won't ever get martinis here again. I talked her into just pounding the drinks and going home. So we did. We both had to cleanse our mouths of the offensive flavour before we left the table. So much for taking a chance. Next time we'll research it better.

Fears and Frustrations

I spent most of today feeling like a completely unintelligible freak (and not "freak" in a good way). I have been wrestling with Foucault and this assignment (which I have decided was completely irresponsible of the teacher to assign) and when I try to discuss these issues with my classmates I get blank looks or answers that indicate I have not been heard/understood accurately which leads me to believe that I am not articulating myself clearly.

I started to wonder if this wasn't the right place for me. Not doubting my place in graduate school, but in this program. I feel my teacher assigned a reading that is disrespectful of me and my commitment to my education and this makes me question the entire program and whether or not a taught course is appropriate at this time; perhaps I am beyond it already and the hoop-jumping will only become more frustrating. (When I said that I am questioning my place Gabriella said, 'Will you stop? Please. Just stop.")

You are probably wondering about the reading. The assignment for this week in my Strategies and Analysis class is Postcolonialism. We were assigned three texts with each person being lumped into a group for more intense assessment of one of the readings. I opted to emphasize a piece by Gayatri C. Spivak entitled 'Can the Subaltern Speak?' After hearing from classmates that it was an intense reading, I began with one of the other readings that goes through the evolution leading to colonial discourse and into postcolonialism. This seemed a good idea before jumping into the aforementioned essay that is a deconstruction of postcolonialism. Well, I got through fifty pages (out of 100) on the evolution of the discourse and decided I should move onto the essay. The essay, however, is a deconstruction of a specific interview between Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze. So I found that interview which I began reading this afternoon/evening in order to then read the deconstruction of it.

I am now in this cycle of endless source references and accumulation of knowledge and feeling really worked up about the content, but also the circumstances/situation. It's all become very loaded. The disrespect comes in when I see that my teacher assigned this essay that requires significant research to contextualize responsibly without, seemingly, understanding the importance of reading the other materials for a proper understanding. It's difficult enough to do the three readings, let alone all the background research to understand and contextualize the work.

I am in a program that is supposed to help me prepare for making a contribution to written discourse. How insulting to have a teacher seemingly disrespect another person's writing by not considering what information is necessary to appreciate or understand the writing. I cannot in good conscience skim through a work that is built upon so many layers of understanding and questioning power structures and how we know what we know; that seems counter to the very theories and practices I am studying.

None of my classmates seem to comprehend this. Gabriella said that she understands me. But it's not the same when I have peers in my classes with whom I am supposedly going to discuss these readings and ideas. It's further complicated by the fact that everyone in my course comes from a different background and knowledge base. I happen to have studied lots of these theories before, or at least contemplated their existence. And I know I really enjoy the deep, philosophical debates on the nuances of linguistic signifiers and other details of intent. But it's really disheartening to realize that, once again, my peers are not challenging me as I would like.

Thankfully, though, I have my circle of PhD friends who continue to surprise me with their humility, with their humor, and with their vision. Hopefully that will be enough to keep me going. As it is, I am considering not talking in class anymore because no one seems to understand what I am saying. I might just make notes and save my thoughts for someone who is willing and interested in an open exchange of ideas. Maybe I will be less frustrated if I try to understand their observations and keep mine to myself (especially when they don't seem to be helpful to anyone else).

Theorious Nerdious Maximus

I have come out to all my classmates as an uncommonly avid theory nerd.

My latest project for classes has been tackling the great, grey beast that is a book by Ania Loomba entitled Colonialism/Postcolonialism. It's a great introduction to the evolution of the postcolonial discourse (including Foucault's development of the term 'discourse'). Ordinarily, I would skip through it, getting the basic structure of the arguments without worrying about retaining all the information for the long term. For those unfamiliar with graduate studies, the courses include an absurd amount of reading (not to mention secondary/supplemental readings) that is actually more than a person can read in one week. My strategy is to familiarize myself with the basic content of the book; I will read what I can and then remember the book will be a resource to return to if/when I want additional information.

This strategy doesn't really work with theory because I feel it is important to understand the logic of the argument in order to apply it responsibly in my work. Facts are easier to verify. Rationalizing an argument or performing a Foucaultian analysis of power structures within a play require a bit more of my brain power.

And this wouldn't be so overwhelming if I wasn't enjoying it so much. I can't put it down! Okay, I can, but I keep coming back to it. I don't want to read plays right now: I want to have a mental showdown with Foucault and Saussure and Lacan. It becomes even more fun when you realize that my Strategies and Analysis course will cover a different topic each week. So I will keep encountering some of these theories in different contexts and have to reconcile the new knowledge with the older knowledge. I was feeling a little battered earlier, but I think it's time to get back in the ring and to start swinging.

Too Much Stimulation Leads to...

A lazy Sunday!

After lots of studying this week (particularly my mental wrestling match with a book on Colonialism/Post-colonialism), I was ready for a low-key day. I allowed myself to just take up space for a morning and into the afternoon. No movies, no TV. I emailed, I listened to music, I walked up to the next town for tea with a friend, and then I came home to make dinner.

It was my first time using the oven. I roasted a chicken with carrots, parsnips, onions, and garlic. I threw in some red wine and let it all work its magic. It turned out quite well. And now I have chicken for making something else this week. And I got ambitious and started to make stock with the chicken carcass, but it started foaming in a way that I think there may have been some residual soap on the pot lid.

Overall, though, I think it was a successful day. I rested, I caught up with friends with whom I hadn't talked in weeks, and I ate good, home cooked food. That's a good start to my third week of classes.

Two Shows in One Day

I managed to book tickets to two different shows today. The first was a one-man show entitled Allergic to Beckett. It was almost a one-joke show. It did not help that the venue faces onto one of the busiest shopping areas in Dublin and that this was the second (and last) performance of the day (and the run). There were a few good moments and then there were moments during which I wanted my life back. I appreciated that this piece of theater existed, but I didn't want to be there anymore.

The other piece was Oedipus Loves You by Pan Pan, a Dublin theatre group known for innovative and experimental productions. (Incidentally, the actress who played Antigone was also in Breakfast on Pluto, as was an actor from The Bonefire by Rough Magic, another Dublin theatre company.) This production was an intelligent and almost overwhelming multi-media production featuring original songs by a local band (Gordon is a Mime). The cast was Tiresias, Oedipus, Jocasta, Creon, and Antigone. They all performed in a band together. There was a screen mounted at center stage that showed the red-satin-clad marital bed the entire time, whether or not someone was in it. They used those plain white plastic masks at a key moment. Tiresias is referred to early on as a psychotherapist and eventually leads the group in a family therapy session. (The actor playing Tiresias was one of the demons in the staged reading of Don Murphy by Tom McIntyre, an adaptation of Don Quixote set in Ireland.)

I bought the soundtrack and am interested to hear how it stands on its own. Some of my companions did not enjoy the show. When I said that I enjoyed it quite a lot, the response was a baffled, "Why?" to which I responded with an assessment of their use of layers, the choice to not stage one version of the Oedipus family trilogy, but to do an intelligent synthesis of all the Oedipus discourse, to challenge and to reify the original plays/characters. Some of the choices were witty, some callous, some superficial. Ultimately, though, it all layered together in a bold and deliberate piece of theatre. They even surprised me with a moment in which I could only think of the reconciliation process between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. It was grave, irreverent, and jubilant. And it had a great beat.

The Funniest Taxi Driver in Dublin

Given that my experience of Dublin taxi drivers is limited to ten (roughly), my assessment of his status as The Funniest may be premature, but Ed is heads and shoulders about the rest in this category. It probably helped that I was kinda tired and spacey when I got into the taxi (which I was taking because I'd missed the last regular bus and didn't want to wait for the night bus line to start). The usual exchange of where are you from/for how long are you here ensued. When he found out I was studying drama, he told me about having a well-known Dublin theatre figure in the cab recently and about how he told this proper fellow so many good jokes that the man was in bits by the time he was dropped off.

At this point I am thinking to myself that I won't get to hear any good jokes because they are probably not acceptable for mixed company. Ed asks me if I know about the local politicians and I say no. He tells me about this one fellow known to have a bit of a stammer and folks often take the piss out of him for it. (By the way, that's a very common bit of slang here: taking the piss.) Ed then moves topics to the Ryder Cup and I say, yes, I've been in town for almost two months (!!) and was here for that. At this point, Ed refers back to the theatre fellow and a conversation they had.

Please note that I will not be able to do justice to his storytelling and timing, but will do an impersonation if you ask when I see you next. Also, this joke probably doesn't translate well to typing it out, but you'll hopefully get the idea.

Ed asks if the man is looking forward to the Ryder Cup. The man replies that he is a great fan of golf. Ed asks if he's heard that Tiger Woods won't be playing. The man is shocked and says that he hasn't heard this bit of news. Ed explains that Tiger Woods refused to come because the politician with the stammer will be welcoming everyone to the "K-K-K Club."

I was completely caught off-guard, partially because I hadn't quite realized he was telling me a joke. As many of you know, I can really get the giggles going when I find something funny. Ed seemed satisfied to have found a good audience. I told him I was afraid he wouldn't tell me any of the good jokes. He smiled and asked if I wanted to hear another. We spent the entire ride in fits of laughter. After he told me a few (including a hilarious one about two Irish guys trying to gather money for pints and one about a prostitute shopping for perfume that definitely requires being told in person), I told him the one about the novice who goes to the bar for a bottle of vodka for the Mother Superior and the "do you know the difference between a salami sandwich and a blow job" joke. He laughed lots and said he'd use the latter one for sure. (Thanks for that one, Phil!)

Of course, by the time I get home, I too awake to get to sleep right away, but it was worth it!

Breakfast on Pluto

Another good Irish film for you. Breakfast on Pluto is directed by Neil Jordan who also did The Crying Game (which is one of my favorite love stories), Michael Collins (which I haven't seen), and Interview with the Vampire (which is not set in Ireland, but does feature Stephen Rea whom I always enjoy).

This may become one of my favorites. It's set in the 70s mostly and shot with really saturate colors. The cast is strong. The soundtrack is good and gives lots of texture to the story and the emotions. The DVD offers subtitles for the hearing impaired (or those who have trouble with understanding the accents).

I'm going to leave it at that rather than go into further detail because I think it's a movie that can be described in lots of ways that won't do justice to the layers of experience depicted in the movie. But if you've enjoyed other films by this director, you might also enjoy this one.

Master first, Doctor later

After much deliberation and anxiety, I have decided to wait on my PhD applications until next fall. While part of me worries about momentum and another gap in my studies, I think it is in my best interests to focus on this M.Phil. program before I worry about PhD programs. I want to give myself space to explore and to discover without the strict time limits that going straight into a PhD program would impose.

For those who are new to this conversation or who have not committed the details of my life to perfect memory, I am currently enrolled in a Master of Philosophy course which requires a dissertation to be submitted by the end of August. Rewrites will be due by December (roughly) with the official conferment of the degree in February (or thereabouts). Basically, I am not going to submit applications to PhD programs that would start in the middle of August or beginning of September when that would mean I'd be trying to finish my M.Phil. dissertation and move out of my flat in Ireland and start a new program.

Much as I love a challenge (and love to make things complicated), I have decided against that course of action at present. Instead, I will focus on learning lots about Irish theatre and on developing my writing skills. (There are many wonderful things about my studies at UCSC, but critical writing is not one of them.)

This also means I don't have to stress myself about the traveling I am not doing while I study because I have the option to travel next fall after I finish my dissertation. Now I can enjoy my studies and relax a bit, trusting that I have the rest of my life to change the world and that I don't have to do it on someone else's time line or in someone else's way. I'll do it my way!

40 Year-Old Virgin in Ireland

While I had friends in town this weekend, we rented a few movies and vegetated. They hadn't seen The 40 Year-Old Virgin and I think it's hilarious and sweet so I talked them into seeing it. Much to my surprise, it's different from the US release. There are entire scenes that are not in the US version. Largely, the additional footage gives more time and development to the co-workers Mooj and Haziz. (There is a scene between Mooj and Jay in which they say some nasty things, but end it without a sense of personal injury and allude to the poker game that will happen that night. It makes the slurs thrown between them a bit more contextualized within their friendship.)

It's the first time I really noticed/experienced the difference in marketing. And Ben articulated the 80s-style feeling to some of the editing that I hadn't previously considered (I noticed the choices, but hadn't made the connection). If I cared more or had more time to indulge in the curiosity, I would watch them back-to-back to notice more differences and develop my theories of perceived social differences. I also would find out if the release in Ireland is the same as the UK version and/or other versions to further develop my theories.

Sorry for the lull

I know some of you check my blog with regularity and are rarely denied the pleasure of new postings, but I let you down this week. I hope you'll forgive my negligence of your entertainment and routine (although I doubt my blog is part of anyone's weekly routine).

The most controversial show in the festival

Gabry managed to get us tickets to the most controversial show in the festival. Written by someone from Rough Magic, one of Dublin's local theatre companies, it is a story set in a Loyalist home in Northern Ireland during the week preceding the annual bonfire on the eve of July 12th. Entitled The Bonefire, this piece deals with themes of nationalism, loyalty, gender roles and violence.

The accents were difficult to understand at times, though the intention was usually quite clear. It was witty and sassy at times and then fierce and uncomfortable at other times. I have mixed feelings about it. There was a point about 3/4 through when I felt things degraded a bit in clarity/focus. (I'm not sure if it's the script or if it had to do with production choices.) There were moments of great intensity throughout that were all the more intense for being in an intimate playing space. There was a point when there was a woman literally at my feet, collapsed in a bloody and battered heap, and I watched as one of the men spit on her. And it was an icky feeling inside, to feel complicit in these acts of violence and humiliation. (Also interesting was the choice for this woman to appear at the curtain call in a cleaned-up state.)

For those who are interested in reading this new work, it is available for purchase through Methuen, as is the Mark Ravenhill play Product.

Everyday in Dublin

Last night I saw the latest performance by a local Dublin theatre group, The Corn Exchange. The show was the intersection (or lack thereof) in the lives of a dozen+ individuals in Dublin. Emphasizing some characters more than others, the show addressed hope, family, belonging, coping, change...it was an interesting portrait of the city in this moment of its history.

This is the company that builds from commedia dell'arte techniques. Each performer had a distinct mask painted onto their faces in that the make-up accented certain features and created a lasting expression.

The show was touching, inspiring, heartbreaking, and honest. It was wonderful, especially to see it the day after seeing three of the actors in the film Adam and Paul. (And today I got to see footage from their production of Lolita at an installation on theatre in Dublin during the last few years.) They have a strong aesthetic that helps tell the stories without being overly simplistic or insulting. Really, the humanity of each character becomes more evident when there is an outward appearance that cannot be changed.

Adam and Paul

For those who liked Trainspotting, you may want to check out an Irish film called Adam and Paul. It was filmed in Dublin and the writer and actors are mostly from a local theatre company. (I'm going to see their latest show tonight.) Evidently, they base a lot of their work in commedia dell'arte. It doesn't show on the surface of this film, but, if you're familiar with the style, you'll see it at the foundation of the characters.

For those who just want to see an interesting, somewhat unintelligible (muttering, Dublin accents...not as difficult to understand as Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, but may frustrate some), and touching film about "current" Dublin, check it out. It was filmed in 2004 and as I watched it I could recognize a lot of the places where it was filmed around town.

Product by Mark Ravenhill

Anyone who is interesting in a scathingly hilarious kick-in-the-stomach kinda show, try to get your hands on the latest piece by Mark Ravenhill. I just saw it performed at the Dublin Theatre Festival and the script is available for purchase from Methuen. It's basically a guy pitching a movie, but the content is brilliantly constructed to attack Hollywood and audiences for the structures, the stereotypes, and the ignorance that creates our "entertainment."

It was laugh-out-loud funny while also leaving me feeling a bit battered and insulted. It was a nice balance.

A gift from Gabriella

If any of you wondered how lucky I am to have met Gabriella, this should dispel any doubt about it: she has surprised me with a nine-week seminar entitled "Philosophers in Dialogue." She found out about a night course that meets on Tuesdays for roughly an hour-and-a-half to discuss the works of two philosophers.

Tonight was Plato and Aristotle and it was wonderful! It was refreshing to be think in that way, to posit something and then see how sound the argument is and then to re-evaluate and ask another question. I love it! The true art of dialogue!

And the teacher from the Philosophy department was great! He was generous and unassuming. He embodied the work he studies in that he demonstrated the thinking through things. And I am already thinking about my dissertation ideas differently, wondering what lies at the core of all the topics and niches in which I am interested.

And we get to do this EVERY WEEK through December 5th! I am going to be exposed to different theories than I would necessarily encounter in theatre studies, but theories that will be helpful in my articulation of ideas about theatre. And I have Gabry with whom I can discuss these things. She wants to start some kind of postgraduate society in which we would be able to discuss different topics and form connections across departments and schools of thought. I think this series of lectures will spur us onto further projects and dialogues.

So many books, so little time (and energy)

After a two-hour adventure in the libraries at Trinity with my indispensable guide, Gabriella, I have four text with me, four more on the way from the other library facilities, and a few that she thinks she already owns and will lend to me. Of course, none of these include the readings I have to complete for my two classes tomorrow. I'm trying to avoid buying books until I know I want to keep them. I know I will read lots of stuff that fulfills a survey-style path through Irish theatre and that I may not want to keep those texts. I would like to avoid accumulating lots of books while I am here. (A *VERY* difficult task for me as I am 1. a bibliophile, and 2. a pack rat.)

My goal is to limit myself to 20 texts that I will take with me back from Ireland. We'll see how that goes. (I already bought one at the conference!)

So I am reading one text that I only got for one week before I read the ones I have for a month even though that text won't be discussed for at least two weeks. I need to do a little more planning of what I will read and in what order. I don't mind so much the first week being a dabbling in different texts, but I know I will rapidly run out of time when I am actually able to read. With all the time in front of computers, my eyes and body get more tired and the headaches come more easily. I need to be kind to myself and be sure I don't push myself too far.

But, of course, the books are of genuine interest to me so I don't want to skim through them. I will find a balance between savoring them now and finding a resource to which I can return. I think I will start a reading journal and a bibliography.

At the Finnish Ambassador's residence

Steve and Prof. Pirkko Koski recently had two books on Finnish theatre published. So there was a reception at the Finnish Ambassador's residence. Prof. Koski was in town for the conference and luckily could attend the reception before her flight back home. It was an unexpected invitation, but I had a nice time. I chatted with a woman from the Swedish Cultural Ministry and a fellow from the Danish Embassy. He told me interesting stories about Copenhagen and Brussels; he gave me is card and encouraged me to give him a call if I decide to visit either city so he can give me recommendations of where to go.

It was an odd event in that I am not used to being in such a formal setting. I felt surprisingly comfortable, but was still aware that I have entered a new circle of relating. This world of policy and political alliances is one that I have not been in before now. And it is fascinating. The looks of desperate boredom, the surprise of genuine interest, the agendas (c)overtly discussed, the constant nod to formality and a sense of occasion... I'm honored to have been included. I hope we were a good representation of Trinity College and of Steve.

Operation: Recovery

The conference finished Saturday evening and the satellite events finished today. I am almost officially done with all the events of the weekend. I think all that remains in settling up with the caterer and turning in my receipts.

I am worn out and am hoping I can manage to get into my courses (which begin tomorrow with a 10am seminar) without too much trouble. Gabry and Mike keep telling me I will be fine. I think I even believe them. But I am aware that I need to take extra good care of myself for the week. Ben and Gina will be staying with me from Saturday so I do have an extra incentive to get my living quarters into a bit of order after abandoning my home for most of the hours each day.

I did meet an assortment of fascinating individuals from around the world. Many lauded our efforts and said it was one of the best organized events they'd attended. (We even received roses and chocolates from a few of the attendees!) Steve kept thanking us for our efforts and saying that it was a success. I said there's not much more we could ask for than that. There were some tensions and curveballs during the weekend, but really that is to be expected on some level. And I felt I couldn't take the most troubling stuff personally because it was less about me and more about the other's own frustrations. I tried to be patient and generous and then I decided I was tired of being complicit in someone else's neurosis. The ignoring of baiting comments made things go much more smoothly.

And now I am going to take a hot shower, wash off the weekend, and prepare myself for a glorious sleep before beginning my master's program. (That sounds so much more exciting and esteemed than the reality is...)

Too Tired to Think and Too Sore to Walk

Something about being on my feet all day, in and out of the rain, and getting up at 5:30am made me exhausted yesterday. After the full day of conference, I came home. (I've missed two shows so far because of the conference.) I could barely communicate.

Before I went to bed, I was looking up book prices online because I figured I wouldn't do it in the morning. I got to the point where I may have been dreaming about searching for the info I needed because I remember my thoughts feeling marshmallow-y (fluffy yet squishable). As soon as I realized I was experiencing a physical manifestation of thought I decided it was time for bed.

Today was better for walking because I wore better shoes and it didn't rain. But I was so tired and just ready to be done that I was pretty much vacant for two hours this afternoon. Thankfully, there was a break in the schedule so we didn't miss anything. And now I am getting ready for bed. Tomorrow I will do two coffee/tea breaks and then attend a seminar and then attend a show and THEN I will come home and go to sleep because I have my first M.Phil. seminar on Monday morning.

Once, Twice, Three Times an Auntie

I have a new nephew! His name is Cian Thomas Murphy. He was born early in the afternoon today. He's a libra. And I have a feeling he looks something like my brother and my sister-in-law...

I'm really excited! Unfortunately, I was working at the conference and couldn't "be there" through the miracles of technology. (My brother set up an electronic video conference I could join in order to chat and to watch and to be a part of the birth.)

So I will keep you posted. He was late which is a wonderful indication that this little fellow is going to go his own way. I can't wait to meet him!

Conference Craziness

Sorry for the absence of updates, folks, but I have been working almost constantly for the last few days to prepare for the Interrogating Antigone conference. It's been a roller coaster of a trip complete with white knuckles and screaming. I'm going to be very glad to be done and able to get on with stuff that is more personally gratifying.

I got involved because I thought the subject matter was interesting so I figured I would help plan, do some stuff during the weekend, and then attend some of the panel presentations. It doesn't look like I will see any of the papers being presented, not even the keynote addresses. Just too much work with too few volunteers and too little time. I've been trying to reconcile myself to this reality, but I still have these pangs of 'what am I doing?' because this is not what I thought I was signing up to do.

Much as I am trying to put a positive spin on everything, I have learned lots about planning conferences and the multitude of details that really make a difference in the experience (and in the budget). There are lots of things, despite my experiences with event planning and retreats and such, that I forgot would take so much time, energy, and money. No wonder Gabriella has been working with Steve on this since April. (Funny thing is that I was handed the volunteer recruiting/scheduling when I first joined up so my email address has been sent to all the lists at Trinity College. One of the guys working the ticket office for the Dublin Fringe Festival is also in my M.Phil. course. Yesterday at the orientation, he asked how I managed to become such a high-ranking volunteer when I'd only been in the country for two weeks. I laughed, but I don't think I came up with much of an answer other than an affirmation that it was kinda funny.)

The best thing to come of this is my friendship with Gabriella. And together we are going to make this year of study as productive as possible.

I'll post more once I recover.

Dublin climate change

I anticipated Dublin weather being much like San Francisco with a bit more rain and a bit more extremes. I did not anticipate the lack of "Indian Summer" nor did I anticipate the weather to change so quickly, so frequently.

It has become bitterly cold in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening. In between, there are either bursts of sunshine or of rain. Of course the wind adds another factor entirely. This is the first time I have consistently encountered wind chill that takes me from the catlike enjoyment of the afternoon sun to bone-chilling shivers in a matter of five minutes.

As soon as I finish with this conference, I am going to need to get some warmer clothes. I am mildly terrified about winter if I am already completely chilled for the third day in a row and we've only barely entered into autumn. And for those who are already thinking the obvious, I am taking an iron supplement.

The best laid plans

Do you ever have those days in which you have carefully scheduled almost every minute of your day? When you have plotted out estimates of how long each activity/idea will take to complete/realize in order to begin the next item on the list (and the next and the next and the next...)?

Today was one of those days. The Interrogating Antigone international conference begins on Friday and there is lots to still be done in preparation. And, of course, this is the day when about one third of the available computers in the 1937 (Postgraduate) Reading Room cannot access the internet. So I run some errands and come back, finally getting onto a computer at just about five o'clock. And, of course, there are emails from businesses or departments or offices whom I contacted earlier and who requested a response from me earlier today. Now that I am reading my message and preparing to respond or telephone, I realize it's after five and all of them have gone home for the day.

Luckily I was too worn out and under-rested to freak out. I did some other emails now that I finally had access to a working computer and actually managed to get some issues resolved.

And tomorrow is another day.

Possibly better than juggling

All my (not so) secret shames are coming out while I am safely out of immediate eye contact.

As some of you know, I am a juggling enthusiast. While I cannot myself juggle with any proficiency, I get crazy giddy when I watch it. Love it! And almost as much as juggling, I love puppetry. That's right: puppets and art of performing with them. And coming in a close third of Megan's guilty pleasures: singing and dancing in performance.

Imagine my gleeful enthusiasm for a puppet-centered burlesque cabaret. Oh yes, you read it correctly. Cabaret Décadanse is one of the most exciting and pleasurable performances I have seen in a while. If you EVER get the chance, check it out. They travel quite a bit.

The highlight was perhaps the marionette strip tease. After you try to wrap your brain around that, imagine two hot men operating the one marionette. Then imagine those same two men and marionette selecting an audience member to get a personal dance onstage. Surreal, sensual, and silly.

What the...?!?

How did it get to be October already?