I'm going to be completely honest up front. i didn't like this movie. when it said robert flaherty recorded in sound, i thought he would actually record sound. this sucked. yes, it was made during the archaic years of advented sound, bulky cameras, and 16mm. I should be appreciating the antiquity, or something like that.
I guess I'm coming from the background of someone who has been raised on hand held video cameras. I love the fluidity and applicable energy the camera brings to a scene in a documentary where we totally feel engaged in someone's life or activity. In Man of Aran, we are shown glimpses of their struggle from a very contrived perspective. Nothing is continuous within the scenes. It makes me unhappy to know how dramatized it is, which totally takes me out of the suspension of thinking this is the way these people live.
Don't get me wrong, I think the way these people live was incredible. My knowledge of Irish history is a bit more well developed than other areas, and I've been to the West Coast of Ireland, so I understand the living conditions to an extent. It is entirely rock. To think these people subsisted without soil on just plain rock for generations is astounding. But what struck me the most was the fact that during the time this was filmed, the mainland of Ireland was enduring a terrible time of war, occupation, and resistance. While these people of Aran struggle to live every day of their lives with the threat of the sea, they are only at war with Nature. They are not subjected to the atrocities of Man. Oliver Cromwell didn't occupy areas of the West for a reason; there was nothing redeeming about them. There was no economic value to rock. This bears the question, are the people of Aran better off?
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
New Developments
Sooo things change. Things change a lot. That whole "let the Universe have it's way with your life" thing is totally true. Totally.
If my life, my heart, my mind, my body, and my future are guiding me in any way, it's telling me that the natural order of things and the positive opportunities that are put in front of me are interacting in such a way, I cannot refuse their becoming.
My time in Ireland was classic. It was a fairytale. The stars aligned when I met Gerard Kelly. He was a gentleman. A scholar. A businessman. He never mistreated me or made me feel the way others have treated me before. I only became angry with him a few times, and we never had words with each other. He showed me the true Ireland. I met wonderful, hospitable, genuine people, surfed in Donegal, ate the best food Dublin had to offer, horsebacked in Dingle, heard the epic trad session I had been dreaming of stumbling upon, braved the Cliffs of Moher in the pelting wind and rain, drove through the skinny, winding roads of the Ring of Kerry, saw U2 for free in Dublin's Croke Park, and strolled in gorgeous gardens in Wicklow. We had the adventure neither of us ever imagined in one millions years we could have. The way in which we met is something only he and I will share, but the build up and realization were under circumstances of which our lives destined us to experience. The Irish tattoo on my back that is representative of such circumstances was inscribed on the same day as I met Gerard, July 14th. That may seem inconsequential to some, but to me our time together was timeless and cinematic to say the least.
I returned in the winter to see Gerard again. We again had a fantastic time. I trekked in the rain to Newgrange. Standing inside of that mound was gratifying not only for the shelter, but for the feeling of being inside that of which is considered one of the oldest man made structures. While taking into consideration the restoration, I personally felt very connected to whatever primitive or primordial sense of belonging humans have with this world and our relationship with the universe. While Newgrange was a burial tomb, it was also a ritualistic monument to the sun. On December 21st, for about seventeen minutes as the sun rises, the tomb becomes entirely illuminated. The artwork on the tomb intrigued me as well. These are the earliest visual representations of communication and media that we have from our ancestors, yet there is no explanation as to their meaning. While the weather was miserable, the moments I had inside the tomb and the museum were intimate to me.
Gerard also took me to horse riding lessons, a Leinster Rugby match, a performance of Wizard of Oz, and plenty of fine dinners with movie nights at our apartment after. He treated me so well, and I appreciated him more than any person I had dated before. He was truly the only Man I've ever been with.
However, I am not a full grown woman. I am a 21 year old college student. I am not that bad looking. I have dozens of goals to fulfill in my life, and I haven't even started. Well I've started but I can't wait to take off. The relationship with Gerard, if it had continued to next year, would have thwarted my goals and desires. As great as he was to me, our lives were not going in similar directions. The life of an anthropologist and filmmaker is simply not the same as a 9-5 desk job. Also, being 3,000 miles apart is taxing to any relationship. I'm 21 and still meeting many other guys in school. I don't think I should settle. At all. Especially when I can enjoy a relationship here and have a physical relationship with someone.
Receiving the new internship at an urban design firm (it will be left unnamed for now due to PR) has helped shape my focus for the rest of my semester. I realized that working at a firm like this and getting my feet wet in such is going to be so beneficial for me and open doors that other filmmakers have not taken stake in. I also may be getting an internship at NPR in D.C., as well as a job collecting census forms. I'll be moving to Baltimore City in July. My dream of being a Baltimore filmmaker could actually be realized and develop in the next 5 to 10 years. I could even travel anywhere around the globe with a camera to make films for social advocacy. Needless to say, I dumped Gerard. While he was great, the Skyping and texting became very expensive and burdensome. It was a relationship on vacation, and I needed to immerse myself back into reality.
Fast forward to today.
My boss asked me to review the website Street Films to gain inspiration for films to be made in the same vein about the city to kickstart his EnvisionBaltimore initiative. His dream is to make Baltimore a transit-oriented development with traditional neighborhoods that rely less on cars and sustain a walkable and bicycle friendly atmosphere.
After reviewing Street Films for a few days, as well as other sites on Transportation and Urban design, I came up with thirteen ideas for documentaries. I can't believe I get the freedom to make whatever documentary I want about urban design issues happening in my city. How freaking cool is this!?!
I started my interested in Media and Video activism a long time ago. I love documentaries and the social commentary they provide. However, the film that connected me to the words was End of Suburbia, which is a film discussing the failure of the American suburban design and how our lives will need to retrofit our environments and local communities in coming years. How crazy is it that my first real world job in media activism has to do with the same topic?
It's allll happening!!
And at the same time, as an anthropologist, I need to understand my place within all of this. I'm a cultural producer. I'm going to be interpreting Baltimore City in such a way to criticize the status quo, as well as ask natives on the area to be reflecting on their neighborhoods and themselves. I can't lose sight of the implications of my work. Also, when it comes time to bring everything together for the Media Active Festival at the end of March, I can reflect on the process of compiling work that is also reflective of cultural processes and social issues.
I'm going to start working on ideas for films now...till later...
If my life, my heart, my mind, my body, and my future are guiding me in any way, it's telling me that the natural order of things and the positive opportunities that are put in front of me are interacting in such a way, I cannot refuse their becoming.
My time in Ireland was classic. It was a fairytale. The stars aligned when I met Gerard Kelly. He was a gentleman. A scholar. A businessman. He never mistreated me or made me feel the way others have treated me before. I only became angry with him a few times, and we never had words with each other. He showed me the true Ireland. I met wonderful, hospitable, genuine people, surfed in Donegal, ate the best food Dublin had to offer, horsebacked in Dingle, heard the epic trad session I had been dreaming of stumbling upon, braved the Cliffs of Moher in the pelting wind and rain, drove through the skinny, winding roads of the Ring of Kerry, saw U2 for free in Dublin's Croke Park, and strolled in gorgeous gardens in Wicklow. We had the adventure neither of us ever imagined in one millions years we could have. The way in which we met is something only he and I will share, but the build up and realization were under circumstances of which our lives destined us to experience. The Irish tattoo on my back that is representative of such circumstances was inscribed on the same day as I met Gerard, July 14th. That may seem inconsequential to some, but to me our time together was timeless and cinematic to say the least.
I returned in the winter to see Gerard again. We again had a fantastic time. I trekked in the rain to Newgrange. Standing inside of that mound was gratifying not only for the shelter, but for the feeling of being inside that of which is considered one of the oldest man made structures. While taking into consideration the restoration, I personally felt very connected to whatever primitive or primordial sense of belonging humans have with this world and our relationship with the universe. While Newgrange was a burial tomb, it was also a ritualistic monument to the sun. On December 21st, for about seventeen minutes as the sun rises, the tomb becomes entirely illuminated. The artwork on the tomb intrigued me as well. These are the earliest visual representations of communication and media that we have from our ancestors, yet there is no explanation as to their meaning. While the weather was miserable, the moments I had inside the tomb and the museum were intimate to me.
Gerard also took me to horse riding lessons, a Leinster Rugby match, a performance of Wizard of Oz, and plenty of fine dinners with movie nights at our apartment after. He treated me so well, and I appreciated him more than any person I had dated before. He was truly the only Man I've ever been with.
However, I am not a full grown woman. I am a 21 year old college student. I am not that bad looking. I have dozens of goals to fulfill in my life, and I haven't even started. Well I've started but I can't wait to take off. The relationship with Gerard, if it had continued to next year, would have thwarted my goals and desires. As great as he was to me, our lives were not going in similar directions. The life of an anthropologist and filmmaker is simply not the same as a 9-5 desk job. Also, being 3,000 miles apart is taxing to any relationship. I'm 21 and still meeting many other guys in school. I don't think I should settle. At all. Especially when I can enjoy a relationship here and have a physical relationship with someone.
Receiving the new internship at an urban design firm (it will be left unnamed for now due to PR) has helped shape my focus for the rest of my semester. I realized that working at a firm like this and getting my feet wet in such is going to be so beneficial for me and open doors that other filmmakers have not taken stake in. I also may be getting an internship at NPR in D.C., as well as a job collecting census forms. I'll be moving to Baltimore City in July. My dream of being a Baltimore filmmaker could actually be realized and develop in the next 5 to 10 years. I could even travel anywhere around the globe with a camera to make films for social advocacy. Needless to say, I dumped Gerard. While he was great, the Skyping and texting became very expensive and burdensome. It was a relationship on vacation, and I needed to immerse myself back into reality.
Fast forward to today.
My boss asked me to review the website Street Films to gain inspiration for films to be made in the same vein about the city to kickstart his EnvisionBaltimore initiative. His dream is to make Baltimore a transit-oriented development with traditional neighborhoods that rely less on cars and sustain a walkable and bicycle friendly atmosphere.
After reviewing Street Films for a few days, as well as other sites on Transportation and Urban design, I came up with thirteen ideas for documentaries. I can't believe I get the freedom to make whatever documentary I want about urban design issues happening in my city. How freaking cool is this!?!
I started my interested in Media and Video activism a long time ago. I love documentaries and the social commentary they provide. However, the film that connected me to the words was End of Suburbia, which is a film discussing the failure of the American suburban design and how our lives will need to retrofit our environments and local communities in coming years. How crazy is it that my first real world job in media activism has to do with the same topic?
It's allll happening!!
And at the same time, as an anthropologist, I need to understand my place within all of this. I'm a cultural producer. I'm going to be interpreting Baltimore City in such a way to criticize the status quo, as well as ask natives on the area to be reflecting on their neighborhoods and themselves. I can't lose sight of the implications of my work. Also, when it comes time to bring everything together for the Media Active Festival at the end of March, I can reflect on the process of compiling work that is also reflective of cultural processes and social issues.
I'm going to start working on ideas for films now...till later...
Thursday, January 7, 2010
My Fairytale
This blog has been primarily about my adventures into my own home city, Baltimore. It's very appropriate, being as I've never had a permanent address outside of Baltimore County and have been doing extensive anthropological research on the area.
However, I have yet do discuss my adventures in Ireland.
I've always been interested in other cultures. For a long time, I had a fascination with Italy and France. I trekked across both countries, and found aspects I loved in both. I love watching films and hearing stories of other countries and lands, where people discover aspects and intricacies of culture and life that are so separate from our own.
I'm lucky enough to have traveled to Europe now four times since I was fifteen years old. Not only am I lucky to travel, I'm lucky to have experienced culture outside of the tourist circuit.
Maybe that luck has something to do with my 1/4 Irish heritage. That's incredibly stereotypical of me to say, yes, but looking back on my time in Ireland, the majority of my experiences would not have happened if it weren't for chance.
Ever since I saw Riverdance at the Lyric Opera House for my 12th birthday, I've been obsessed with Ireland. I don't know what it was about the dance and music, but it infected me. Over the years I also started gaining interest in Celtic design, traditional music, Irish films, Irish actors, the history, etc... I wasn't sure if it was because of my familial roots or because of that initial interest in Riverdance, but my obsession was indescribable.
I had several chances to go to Ireland to visit family and travel the countryside, but all fell by the wayside. When I began college, I immediately went to the Study Abroad office and applied for the Dublin Summer program in 2009. It was three years away, yes, but I didn't care. I was going no matter what. I wanted my name at the top of the list.
In between the summer of 2007 and 2009, I experienced heartbreak and distress, that of which I won't go into much detail. Sure, I was a 19 year old and stupid, but my innocence was destroyed, and I was scarred physically and emotionally. I was forced to grow up and handle my emotions in an adult manner. I also handled relationships entirely differently. No longer did I fall head over heels or wear my heart of my sleeve. I never thought I'd develop strong emotions for any guy ever again.
Thennnn the summer of 2009 approached. I won't lie, I daydreamed about meeting a handsome Irishman with bright green eyes and jet black hair. I thought "How wonderful would it be to meet someone who can show me the true side of Ireland?" I had instincts that told me I would probably meet someone, but again, I don't know where these feelings came from.
Immediately when I landed at Dublin's airport, I felt at home. My first few weeks were greeted with nightlife, pubs, tiny Italian bistros, immigrants from all over Europe, the Dublin Bus experience, and my internship at a trendy music website. On my second weekend, my group and I trekked to Galway, the West Coast city, which is packed with tiny traditional pubs, jewelry shops with the Claddagh rings, breakfast nooks, and of course the mad drunks. In one evening, I was pleasantly approached by three Irishmen who were clearly plastered, but all with whom I held decent conversation. Walking around the bay in the morning was incredibly peaceful and serene. I was beginning to feel emotionally connected to the land, though not so much the rain, which began pelting with the winds in the later afternoon. A few friends and I popped into a bar for our first Hot Whiskey, which surely warmed us up.
I departed from my friends to make my solo journey to Connemara, the barren and desolate landscape that is inhabited by few, and is one of the last remaining areas of Ireland where the native Irish language is spoken. When I got on the bus, I heard an older man speaking in this language, and could pick out absolutely no references to the English language. It was mystical and fascinating. When the bus finally pulled out of Galway, and we made our way into the country side, I popped on my iPod, and on came the Saw Doctors "Green and Red", a tribute song to County Mayo, which is just north of the region I was embarking upon. My tears welled up as I stared out on the country side, much like they're welling up as I write about this excursion. The untouched beauty of this region is settling and comforting. I felt like I was existing on the edge of the world but was nestled among the rock and the green. Around every corner were fields of free range cattle and sheep, horses, stone walls, and peat. The best word to describe this scene was "Fresh".
I last stop the bus made was my stop, Carna. It was here I would meet my grandmother's first cousin, Mary Lyden. I hopped off the bus in my bright green rain coat and pink sweater and rain boots, obviously standing out of the crowd. This crowd was the entire town leaving church that afternoon. Every person was speaking in Irish. I hadn't felt culture shock until that moment. Finally, my cousin's friend Breeds came to "collect" me (never said pick up, that infers a date) and give me a "lift" (never say ride, that infers sex!). Breeds was and is by far one of the most interesting women I've ever met, but more on that later.
My cousin Mary is in her mid seventies and lives more on the edge than any person I know. Literally. Her house is situated on a tiny peninsula; her front and backyards both include views of the sea. That evening, after eating a hefty meal of corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes, sitting in her tiny 6-room cottage next to a peat burning stove, we chatted over tea while 40mph winds rattled the windows. We stayed up till 1am talking, I don't even remember about what, all I know is that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Breeds is by far the chattiest elderly woman I had met, but she was full of stimulating conversation. She had traveled the world as a midwife, and was incredibly intelligent. Though she had been all over, she remained a resident of Carna her entire life; her and my aunt were neighbors since birth. After a nightcap of Irish creme, I settled in my bed with an electric blanket, and fell asleep with the sounds of rain and wind pounding with the sea outside.
When I woke, a "fry", or a traditional Irish breakfast, was ready for me. This included eggs, rashers, sausages, pudding, brown bread, beans, and potatoes. You can imagine, this is all one needs for an entire day until dinner. The sun was shining, and I was ready to explore the land. Mary and Breeds were off to mass, and they suggested I walk around and take some pictures. It's hard to put into words how I felt about the land Mary lived on. It was rocky, mossy, green, and fresh. The air was so clean. The shades of green were vast and abundant. The ruined homes still stood. Horses roamed without bounds. In some areas by the bridges, the water was crystal blue and quickly turned teal. It was so incredibly majestic.
Later that day, Mary's tenant Paul took me to see the Twelve Bens, a vast mountain range of twelve points north of her home. It was here I was led to the home of my great grandmother Maggie. This was the first, and probably the only time I will ever become acquainted with my roots in such an intimate way.
After a short nap and a hearty meal of lamb, carrots, potatoes, onions, and Mary's black current bread, I took one last walk to watch the sunset over the sea. The sun was slowly setting behind a thin layer of clouds, casting an amber glow on the rocks and stones. The waves gently crashed against the shore. The wind blew through my hair, and the smell of sea and moss was rich, dewy, and invigorating. While I was by myself, I was not accompanied by any sense of loneliness. My solitude was enriched by my setting. It was here, sitting on the edge of the country, that I think I may have experienced some sort of self-realization or actualization, or some wholeness within myself. At that moment I felt complete, alive, and free.
After the sun finally set (during that time of year it can be around 9:30 or 10pm), I came back to chat with Mary. We began talking about love and relationships. She had never been with anyone, and remained single her entire life with no children, and she was happy that way. Being surrounded by friends and family was satisfying to her. I expressed my concern that my faith had been lost in regards to relationships and men, and that I stopped putting myself out there to date because it seemed like a lost cause. We both agreed I was too young to feel this way, and that I had many many years ahead of me to worry about relationships. Though considering what I had been through in the previous two years, and the fact my best friend was engaged and I had just watched two of my friends get married weeks previously, I couldn't help but have love and relationships on the brain.
Around eleven, Breeds came over, and we continued chatting. While we were finishing our final cup of tea, Mary brought out her fortune set. I had never seen a set like this, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was randomly given a card with an angel on it, and it said "Grace". It told me to have grace, or patience, and to allow the universe to have its way with my life. I decided that was the best advice I could allow myself. Everything will fall into place.
Two days later, on July 14th, I met Gerard Kelly.
However, I have yet do discuss my adventures in Ireland.
I've always been interested in other cultures. For a long time, I had a fascination with Italy and France. I trekked across both countries, and found aspects I loved in both. I love watching films and hearing stories of other countries and lands, where people discover aspects and intricacies of culture and life that are so separate from our own.
I'm lucky enough to have traveled to Europe now four times since I was fifteen years old. Not only am I lucky to travel, I'm lucky to have experienced culture outside of the tourist circuit.
Maybe that luck has something to do with my 1/4 Irish heritage. That's incredibly stereotypical of me to say, yes, but looking back on my time in Ireland, the majority of my experiences would not have happened if it weren't for chance.
Ever since I saw Riverdance at the Lyric Opera House for my 12th birthday, I've been obsessed with Ireland. I don't know what it was about the dance and music, but it infected me. Over the years I also started gaining interest in Celtic design, traditional music, Irish films, Irish actors, the history, etc... I wasn't sure if it was because of my familial roots or because of that initial interest in Riverdance, but my obsession was indescribable.
I had several chances to go to Ireland to visit family and travel the countryside, but all fell by the wayside. When I began college, I immediately went to the Study Abroad office and applied for the Dublin Summer program in 2009. It was three years away, yes, but I didn't care. I was going no matter what. I wanted my name at the top of the list.
In between the summer of 2007 and 2009, I experienced heartbreak and distress, that of which I won't go into much detail. Sure, I was a 19 year old and stupid, but my innocence was destroyed, and I was scarred physically and emotionally. I was forced to grow up and handle my emotions in an adult manner. I also handled relationships entirely differently. No longer did I fall head over heels or wear my heart of my sleeve. I never thought I'd develop strong emotions for any guy ever again.
Thennnn the summer of 2009 approached. I won't lie, I daydreamed about meeting a handsome Irishman with bright green eyes and jet black hair. I thought "How wonderful would it be to meet someone who can show me the true side of Ireland?" I had instincts that told me I would probably meet someone, but again, I don't know where these feelings came from.
Immediately when I landed at Dublin's airport, I felt at home. My first few weeks were greeted with nightlife, pubs, tiny Italian bistros, immigrants from all over Europe, the Dublin Bus experience, and my internship at a trendy music website. On my second weekend, my group and I trekked to Galway, the West Coast city, which is packed with tiny traditional pubs, jewelry shops with the Claddagh rings, breakfast nooks, and of course the mad drunks. In one evening, I was pleasantly approached by three Irishmen who were clearly plastered, but all with whom I held decent conversation. Walking around the bay in the morning was incredibly peaceful and serene. I was beginning to feel emotionally connected to the land, though not so much the rain, which began pelting with the winds in the later afternoon. A few friends and I popped into a bar for our first Hot Whiskey, which surely warmed us up.
I departed from my friends to make my solo journey to Connemara, the barren and desolate landscape that is inhabited by few, and is one of the last remaining areas of Ireland where the native Irish language is spoken. When I got on the bus, I heard an older man speaking in this language, and could pick out absolutely no references to the English language. It was mystical and fascinating. When the bus finally pulled out of Galway, and we made our way into the country side, I popped on my iPod, and on came the Saw Doctors "Green and Red", a tribute song to County Mayo, which is just north of the region I was embarking upon. My tears welled up as I stared out on the country side, much like they're welling up as I write about this excursion. The untouched beauty of this region is settling and comforting. I felt like I was existing on the edge of the world but was nestled among the rock and the green. Around every corner were fields of free range cattle and sheep, horses, stone walls, and peat. The best word to describe this scene was "Fresh".
I last stop the bus made was my stop, Carna. It was here I would meet my grandmother's first cousin, Mary Lyden. I hopped off the bus in my bright green rain coat and pink sweater and rain boots, obviously standing out of the crowd. This crowd was the entire town leaving church that afternoon. Every person was speaking in Irish. I hadn't felt culture shock until that moment. Finally, my cousin's friend Breeds came to "collect" me (never said pick up, that infers a date) and give me a "lift" (never say ride, that infers sex!). Breeds was and is by far one of the most interesting women I've ever met, but more on that later.
My cousin Mary is in her mid seventies and lives more on the edge than any person I know. Literally. Her house is situated on a tiny peninsula; her front and backyards both include views of the sea. That evening, after eating a hefty meal of corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes, sitting in her tiny 6-room cottage next to a peat burning stove, we chatted over tea while 40mph winds rattled the windows. We stayed up till 1am talking, I don't even remember about what, all I know is that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Breeds is by far the chattiest elderly woman I had met, but she was full of stimulating conversation. She had traveled the world as a midwife, and was incredibly intelligent. Though she had been all over, she remained a resident of Carna her entire life; her and my aunt were neighbors since birth. After a nightcap of Irish creme, I settled in my bed with an electric blanket, and fell asleep with the sounds of rain and wind pounding with the sea outside.
When I woke, a "fry", or a traditional Irish breakfast, was ready for me. This included eggs, rashers, sausages, pudding, brown bread, beans, and potatoes. You can imagine, this is all one needs for an entire day until dinner. The sun was shining, and I was ready to explore the land. Mary and Breeds were off to mass, and they suggested I walk around and take some pictures. It's hard to put into words how I felt about the land Mary lived on. It was rocky, mossy, green, and fresh. The air was so clean. The shades of green were vast and abundant. The ruined homes still stood. Horses roamed without bounds. In some areas by the bridges, the water was crystal blue and quickly turned teal. It was so incredibly majestic.
Later that day, Mary's tenant Paul took me to see the Twelve Bens, a vast mountain range of twelve points north of her home. It was here I was led to the home of my great grandmother Maggie. This was the first, and probably the only time I will ever become acquainted with my roots in such an intimate way.
After a short nap and a hearty meal of lamb, carrots, potatoes, onions, and Mary's black current bread, I took one last walk to watch the sunset over the sea. The sun was slowly setting behind a thin layer of clouds, casting an amber glow on the rocks and stones. The waves gently crashed against the shore. The wind blew through my hair, and the smell of sea and moss was rich, dewy, and invigorating. While I was by myself, I was not accompanied by any sense of loneliness. My solitude was enriched by my setting. It was here, sitting on the edge of the country, that I think I may have experienced some sort of self-realization or actualization, or some wholeness within myself. At that moment I felt complete, alive, and free.
After the sun finally set (during that time of year it can be around 9:30 or 10pm), I came back to chat with Mary. We began talking about love and relationships. She had never been with anyone, and remained single her entire life with no children, and she was happy that way. Being surrounded by friends and family was satisfying to her. I expressed my concern that my faith had been lost in regards to relationships and men, and that I stopped putting myself out there to date because it seemed like a lost cause. We both agreed I was too young to feel this way, and that I had many many years ahead of me to worry about relationships. Though considering what I had been through in the previous two years, and the fact my best friend was engaged and I had just watched two of my friends get married weeks previously, I couldn't help but have love and relationships on the brain.
Around eleven, Breeds came over, and we continued chatting. While we were finishing our final cup of tea, Mary brought out her fortune set. I had never seen a set like this, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was randomly given a card with an angel on it, and it said "Grace". It told me to have grace, or patience, and to allow the universe to have its way with my life. I decided that was the best advice I could allow myself. Everything will fall into place.
Two days later, on July 14th, I met Gerard Kelly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
