Ring of Kerry view
Today was my last day at work, and I actually choked up when I was walking around and saying my goodbyes.
***
A week from now, in two days really, I will be entertaining millions of thoughts in my head such as: "Hey Katya, remember when you lived in Dublin?" "Hey, remember when you lived in Dublin and your coworkers, to initiate you, made you sing a Britney Spears song, a cappella, at a restaurant to a hundred people while they were daintily eating their chocolate mousses?" "Remember when you were living in Dublin and your shower broke while you were trying to wash stinging shampoo out of your eyes?" "Remember when you went to Prague from Dublin and missed your flight back (not your fault!)?" "Hey, remember when your parents visited you in Dublin and you went to a fishing port called Howth and took pictures of seals and yachts and ate delicious fish and chips?"
***
The three months have gone by quickly, obscenely quickly, too quickly. And yet, I had gotten into a routine. A routine that now tricks my mind into thinking (feeling) that I have been here for a long time, for forever.
***
I am starting to work on a new flickr album project, which I will name "Ireland - The B-sides." Too many photos did not make it online because I did not deem them arty or pretty or interesting enough for the original IRELAND set. They will now be acknowledged.
***
Some noteworthy events. A historic election happened while I was tragically asleep. I went to bed nervous, with Virginia being too close to call. I woke up with a new president-elect and was showered with congratulations all day long. Hurrah! My first Thanksgiving away from my mom's turkey was surprisingly bearable. The work folks brought in a "Happy Thanksgiving" chocolate cake, the sweetest of gestures if just a little misinformed, and we went to lunch fittingly at "Captain America's". For dinner, I made myself a full Thanksgiving meal and watched Anchorman. I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal. My twenty-fifth birthday, the big two five, holy shit. I woke up that morning, went to the kitchen, opened my first floor window, and there was Papa T walking around trying to get into the building. SCREAM. Run. Hug.
***
Hiya
Give me a shout.
How are you getting on?
That's brilliant.
Grand.
That's gas.
Send it by interoffice post.
Feck.
Good craic.
What's the craic?
I thought it was interesting like.
But um
Slainte
That's deadly.
Let's meet at half nine.
***
Saying goodbye is hard.
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