Reclaiming Experience

This blog is a tool for recording my experiences as well as evaluating my day-to-day life. With my camera in hand, I will make meaning out of my life.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Day 278: Homework

Here is my rough draft for my homework assignment.  It is nice we don't have to feel rushed to bring in final copies.

The sheets were no longer neatly ironed in a bed recently made.  Part of the comforter was half-hanging on the bed, and partly lying on the hotel room floor.  My yellow raincoat was scrunched up at the end of the bed, waiting to be used.  Day seven of our tour was beginning, but this meant the journey was coming to an end.  I turned on my Walkman, and put on my headphones.  As I listened to “Whiskey in the Jar,” I looked at those sheets and felt a connection.
My world had become disheveled.  I had traveled to different states, but this was my first time visiting a foreign continent.  It turns out there are other people in the world, and some of them have really cool accents.  I don’t always know what they are saying, but they seem so charming.  In fact, they seem much nicer than Americans.  They sing together at bars, and give tours of their fire stations.  One boy even tried to talk to me.  I didn’t immediately know what he was asking for, but my new Irish ears finally understood that he was asking about the time.  Maybe this moment would not be memorable for others, but I feel like no one ever approaches me.
My eyes were overstimulated with new scenes and my mind struggled to process all of my senses.  As I sit here in my new pink baseball tee that says “princess,” I think of the first shocking moment to shift my life view at fourteen.  As we were wandering the streets of Dublin, we came up to a group of decrepit looking bronze statutes.  In the memorial you see seven people with a dog growling angrily in back.  These people are about seven feet tall, and drained of any excess fat.  Some are carrying bags, while one is carrying a body.  The faces eerily plead for a break in the suffering, but they continue walking.  How could I not have learned about this historical time period in my history classes?  I would have never known about the potato famine if it weren’t for the education from my aunts.
As I sit in the hotel chair looking at the bed, my mom interjects, “Have you finished packing?”
“Unfortunately,” I admit.
“Did you get your picture of the toilet yet?”  she questions.
Not only do these people have accents, but they also have different toilets.  Our rear ends seem to be shaped the same, so I wonder what the reasoning for the different toilet seats is about.  I find it amusing, so I take pictures.
Beyond little delights, I also reminisce about other new sights.  I was so excited to take my dad’s big camera on the trip.  As I sit here taking in my last moments in the hotel room, I hope that my photos turn out.  I’m pretty new to photography, but I know the placement and alignment of the Cliffs of Moher are going to impress my dad and granddad.  I can still feel the wind and spray from the waves colliding into the cliff.  My sinuses feel free after the salty air enters my nose.  I’ve seen coastlines before, but never been so high that a plummet would equal death.

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