confession: i know i love a place when i look at real estate prices and consider moving to that place. i am in love with ireland. i almost wired cash payment for a condo in killarney four days ago. i paused only because i’ve learned not to trust my financial investing impulses when i feel this happy. i make my wisest financial investments when feeling neutral.
confession: i’ve been here for a full week and haven’t sat in a pub since i landed. i’ve walked the aisles of three liquor stores, made no purchases, and bought skim milk for my cereal at the quick markets that are always attached to liquor stores in small irish towns. i feel rebellious not drinking in ireland. i haven’t had a drink because i don’t want one. i don’t want a drink because i feel happy without one. also, i have minimal social interactions each day, and i usually drink to ease my social anxiety. this week i’m a happily sober introverted talking-to-almost-no-one angel in ireland.
confession: the real reason i’ve avoided pubs is that “traditional irish music” inflames my arthritis.
confession: i don’t have arthritis, but “traditional irish music” streaming from pubs causes blood to pool in my joints in a painful arthritic-like way.
confession: it’s not that i universally hate the accordion, because south american accordion playing moves my soul and sways my sex in unmentionable ways. but i’ve concluded that i only like the accordion when played in the southern hemisphere. northern hemisphere accordion playing prompts my shoulders to rise, my head to tuck low to shield my ears with my shoulders, and my whole self to quickly hobble away on arthritic-mimicking knees and ankles.
confession: since i haven’t entered a pub, i haven’t eaten pub food. i’ve eaten lots of fruit and cereal, just like at home. doing my at-home habits in other countries contributes to my feeling at-home in the world, which is a multi-layered feeling of safety. feeling safely at home in the world is why i love traveling, why i love being away from home, and why i love returning home.
confession: the cereal i’ve been eating is all-bran, which reminds me of my grandmother. grandmother would have probably thought ireland looks a lot like iowa, which it does a little, but barely, and kind of not at all, but she’d have seen the rolling green hills and lines of trees as home-like, which means iowa, and she might have wondered aloud why people need to travel so far away to be somewhere like home. grandmother was a very practical capricorn. i loved her very much.
confession: this week has been the best week of my life thus far. for no reason and every reason. because i’m in ireland and because i will return here again, next year or ten years from now. because my life is free and open and wildish and my heart is available to receive the gifts that rain on me everywhere i go.
confession: i’m freakin’ lucky, y’all. for real.
confession: i’ve looked for a mechanical bull in every town i’ve passed through. i’ve found none. i’d risk the arthritis-inducing traditional irish music to ride a mechanical bull in a pub. i’m a mechanical-bull-riding junkie. not because i’m that good. (i’m neither bad nor good.) but i love doing it. i’ve learned how to fall without getting bruised, which i perceive as a triumph in any bull-ride, real or mechanical.
confession: learning to fall without getting bruised is my current life-guiding philosophy. especially in love.