Sept 23rd

Woke up today and wrote 2 paragraphs for homework and then hobbled over to Senior Seminar class. We discussed a case study about killing a (likely soon to die) baby to donate its organs and to save others lives. It was an intense discussion with some heated debating. I felt charged after the debate and the energy stayed with me the rest of the day. After Senior Seminar I had Archeology class from 11:15 until 2:15. Class went fast and was pretty interesting. Our Prof is hilarious. She explained that people from Derry (her hometown) have a sense of humor. People from Derry and the North lived through dark times, so to deal with them they learned to laugh.

In class our Prof said something that helped me to understand a situation I came across in Tralee last Thursday night. While telling my dining story with the elites in Tralee I left a part out, so mom could sleep at night. Halfway through supper I used the restroom. While sitting in the stall, two men walked in and started to talk about crack very casually. My image of the innocent, devoutly Catholic Irish who were victims of the past was shattered in an instance as I relieved myself. The conversation surprised the crap out of me. I started to see that maybe Ireland was just like every other place in the world. I thought about how the green moss, Virgin Mary shrines, and crucifixes that dotted the landscape helped to conceal a very ugly place. I thought a drug deal was about to go down so I made sure to not make a sound. The one lad said, “How was the crack last night?” The other old man casually announced, “Tralee has the best crack in Ireland.” My imagination ran wild. I thought about how the rich old men in the dining room were probably wealthy mobsters or maybe just retired crack dealers. I heard the men walk out of the bathroom and slowly crept out trying to go unnoticed.

So, today in class our Prof asked how Tralee went this weekend. She said something about Tralee having the best crack. I woke from my coma of boredom and listened to what she was mumbling about in front of class. She said “Tralee has some of the best crack… It’s a real grand town—it’s lots of fun.” My jaw dropped in awe of how casual she spoke of her times with having fun with crack. I started to grasp how serious of a problem it must be in this country. I guess the quaint towns of Ireland aren’t meth ridden like back home, but crack infested instead.
My hand jolted up and I asked in a disgusted tone, “Crack– Is it a real problem in Tralee? She gave a roar of a laugh. Everyone looked at her like she was a crack head, because no one knew why she was laughing. She explained that in Tralee and other parts of Ireland people commonly greet others by saying, “How’s the craic?” (Spelled ‘craic’, but pronounced crack) She explained it means, “How are you doing?” or “Anything fun/exciting happening?” We all laughed and I shared my story about the supposed crack dealers in the bathroom of the fancy dining room. Turns out they were innocently saying, “Did you have fun last night?” and the other man responded by saying, “Yes, Tralee is the one of most fun places in Ireland.” I’m happy to hear this, because now my image of Ireland and its perfection has been restored.

After class I checked the mail and got giddy with excitement when I saw a letter from Jinette. Once again, I blocked out the world around me and read her letter to myself smiling to the world, laughing out loud, and feeling loved. I rushed through the letter with excitement, but held on to each sentence putting it near to my heart, as I joyfully read through it. Emily was sitting in the room and noticed me glowing. She couldn't help but notice the energy pouring out of me and my facial expressions silently screaming with delight. Emily turned to me and said, “Wow, look at you, you must really like this girl…”

Off to reading about the innocent history of the clean, non crack addicted, Irish.