Brain Glazing Orientation

I have not yet gotten a wired connection to my dorm room, so each morning I go to the Library courtyard and sit on the freezing marble benches to access the wireless signal that leaks out of the library. It is quite pleasant, if a bit chilly. This is not an early rising campus, so the only people out in the moring are foreigners. It is extremely well advertised that there is a bus from The Stables to a venue called the Sin Bin (in town, I think) which leaves at 10:00 pm and delivers you back to campus at 2:00 am. Evidently, the Sin Bin has no cover until midnight, but if one is slacker enough to arrive after midnight, the cover is 5 euro to encourage you never to do THAT again. I am sorry to say that I will not extent my ethnographic activities to include the Sin Bin unless it really seems anthropologically necessary. However, if I hear of bansidhs or other supernatural beings there, I will hop right on the bus at 10:00 sharp!

So Friday was the *second* day of orientation. I definitely felt all glazed over by day-two of info overload. Lecture is still the major mode of expression here, and it was six more hours of lecture. I am not averse to lecture, but more than three hours of lecture and even I glaze over. Note to program organizers: the audience *really* likes to have some kind of break-em-up activities, and day two of huge amounts of information *really* needs an alternative delivery system if anything is going to be learned, even think-pair-share would have been welcome. They stress here that learning is independent and up to you, but I think that is a load of crap. If it were up to me, then why are they sticking me to this seat, not allowing me to talk, and yammering for hours on end? These last two days really heightens my conviction that a lot of what we think is "teaching" is actually some kind of egotistical fantasy on the part of the teacher. Of course, my own innovative colleagues and my exceptional care-giver family members (i.e. the readers of this blog), are totally exempt from my discontent. To all of you, I say, "Keep up the good work! You are more valuable than you know!" Although I am working hard at practicing patience and loving-kindness, I got a lot of good practice trying not to grind my teeth and roll my eyes when these Lecturers would say, "Are there any questions," and so totally not mean it.

Out of this day, however, I got my classes and my gym pass. Yay! I will be taking Irish language, Irish music (practicum tutorial in guitar), the Irish Literary Revival, James Joyce to Maeve Brennan (modern Irish lit), Folklore Studies, and Irish history from 1740-1920 (lecture only). I'm so excited! Oh, and at the gym, yoga and aerobics. Can you believe it? There is yoga only once a week, and the only soy product available in the grocery stores is soy beverage: no tofu, no tempeh. I guess even though American media and fashions have crossed the pond, hippy culture has not had the same influence. Oddly enough, peanut butter has made the jump, but only in very small jars.

In the last week I have not spoken with a single human being who has not been obligated to speak to me by duty or service position. After spending the summer hanging out with family, friends, and Best Buddy Ralph, it is kind of odd not have anyone regard me as an individual human being. As a result, the comments you guys leave on the blog have been more sustaining than you know!