Don't Forget to Breathe..and after that, put things into Perspective

I hate to preempt this blog with a statement that is negative towards the blogging world-but I would like to say that I am not a blogger, and chances are, when I am through with Ireland and have put a close on this adventure of mine-I will also put a close to this blog because I really don't feel it necessary to tell the whole world about my life and my problems ...that was a huge run on sentence. For now, however, here I go.


I have chosen to title this blog "Don't Forget to Breathe.." because it is something that I have had to constantly remind myself to remember to do in such a new place. Please don't take this too literally. No, I have not actually forgotten to breathe while I have been here, I am quite alive, and have been doing quite a bit of breathing.

In some instances, however, I find myself completely overwhelmed with feelings of frustration, homesickness, sadness and complete misunderstanding. I start to cry..in public..in my room..really anywhere this happens. And for those of you that know me, many of you have never seen me cry because I am not a person that likes to lose it in front of just anyone, and if I do, I usually express it through anger.

So? My advice to myself? Take a deep breathe. Put things into perspective, and don't sweat the small stuff (as my dad would say). I have a tendency to micro manage my life, I like things in order, I like things to be done quickly and efficiently- and If I don't have an answer when I want it I feel like I may burst. Needless to say- Europe, and especially Ireland- does NOT run this way. The irish like to dance around all subjects, all conversations and all answers- unless it involves going to the pub, in which case the answer is obvious.

Although I may find this tendency for things to work slowly here extremely arduous and annoying, I think- rather I know, that this will be a tremendous learning experience for me. I am not a patient person. And if I can come out of this with even a little more patience than I came into it with because I have remembered to take my deep breaths and go with the flow, than I need to be grateful.

Not everyone gets the chance to get up and go to a new country to study just for the hell of it, and sometimes I forget how fortunate I am. I am fortunate that I am here, that I have a support system of FAMILY and friends that skypes and emails and calls me a million times a day just to check in. I have people that miss me, and people that I miss back. I have a safe place to sleep, and food to eat, and some brilliant Irish roommates to help me in times of question...and to ask anything more would be quite foolish of me.

The Essay

Although there are a few days (53 to be precise) until I begin my adventure to Ireland, I wanted to get a head start on the blogging thing. For the people that know me they are fully aware that my technology skills are sub par- but I am going to give this whole thing a go, anyways.

I will start by posting the letter I wrote in order to get accepted into my program.

Family decisions where always made at Rosie O’Shea’s.  If there was an important announcement, a special occasion, or a needed reprieve from a long work week; Rosie’s, as we called it, was the place to go. 

Rosie’s was a local irish pub located in my home city, Newburyport, Massachusetts.  The authentic owners had surrounded the place with antique glasses, teacups, tapestries, and even old beer coasters actually from Ireland. In the winter there was always a genuine fireplace warming the cool of the old wood floors, and mini crock pots full of french onion soup to be enjoyed with classic jig music in the background. Going to this special place with my redheaded brothers, and my dark irish parents(we are a mostly Irish family with a fully french name), has become one of my favorite memories. 

So when it came time to make the decision where I wanted to travel abroad there was no question for me that it would be Ireland.  I have always been intrigued with different cultures. In high school I studied the German language and became great friends with my German exchange student, Hannah. I learned how different one persons views on life could be and how differently one culture approaches education than another. From this experience I only became more thirsty for cultures unlike my own.  When I had the opportunity to travel to France with my history class I jumped to the occasion. This would be the first time I got to travel to another country and participate in my surroundings.

I was overwhelmed with curiosity, fear and excitement. I was curious to learn about all the things I did not know, the simple things: Where are the best places to eat? The best places to read a book on a nice day? Which city’s will I be in owe of, which museums will make the hair on my skin stand up?  I was fearful because I was in a new place, with a new language, and I stuck out as an American (red hair and all..) like a sore thumb. My excitement, however, superseded those fears. I wanted to take this opportunity and live in it for all it was worth: I was (and still am) an honor roll student, a three sport varsity athlete, a loving daughter, sister and friend- now I wanted to be an explorer. 

My ambition and my love of exploring new places has now brought me to a stepping stone in my travels and in my life: Ireland. When I think of the places I could go with diverse and friendly people, with beautiful landscapes I can run through and appreciate, and with classically designed University’s with a strong education I can excel in, there is nowhere else I would rather be than in Ireland. I have spent much of my time exploring the history’s and cultures of places unlike my own.  As I grow older, discovering my irish heritage has become an important necessity to learning who I am as an individual. Traveling to Ireland, I know, will help me to develop in ways that I am not able to in Boston. I will be faced with new challenges, new opportunity’s, and a new outlook that will broaden my horizons. I am looking forward to every step, to every quirk, and to every irish blessing. 

A chuisle, a chroí,

Marissa LaFlamme