That's me. It is, right now, one of my favourite pictures of me that exists, right up there with every picture that exists of me dancing. That's me, doing a cartwheel, and poorly I may add. Which is weird... because normally, I do good cartwheels.

I have decided that a poorly done cartwheel is the most beautiful thing on earth. Why? Because, it's just so whimsical and childish and silly and free. Like, when you know you can do a cartwheel, it's like "Oh, yay, did a cartwheel. Whoopee." but when you know you can't do one, but you try anyway, it's like "Here I go! Tumble tumble fall! Now I am lying on the ground in the warm grass and it's summer and I love life."

It was Jodi, whom I love so very dearly, that made me realize this. I can just remember, the day that picture was taken... I was doing cartwheels, but I can do them, so it was nothing special. But Jodi was trying to do them, and failing, but she was still laughing, and having fun, and we were all laughing, and having fun, and it was a wonderful day. I guess I can just remember the look on her face, and the way that everyone felt... happy and young and free.

Actually, I've long had a theory that things are less fun the better you get. Like, singing is my main example: I know that I can't sing. So I can do it as loudly and freely as I wish. And I know it's bad! It's okay! I've always said that heart and enthusiasm can make up for any lack of talent. But someone who is good... they're constantly wondering "How do I stack up? Is my pitch good? Am I better than that person? Or that person?"

So... I guess what I'm saying is, don't be afraid to suck at stuff. In fact, be happy.

Now, how do I unlearn cartwheeling?

(Photo Credit to Dave)

I'm in Dublin now. The road was not as rocky as they say. That's a line from a song, for the record. I know a few songs with Dublin in them. In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty... That's Molly Malone. I have to go see her statue. And Oscar Wilde's. Where else shall I be going... St. James's Gate... Jameson Distillery... James Joyce Museum... But that's all tomorrow and Thursday. Tonight... the Temple Bar and surrounding area. Where is that quote about it... In July 2005, visiting American singer Aimee Mann described her shock at encountering "overflowing pubs, drunks, urine stains and pools of vomit". Heh, this is going to be awesome. I have more stories, stories of all kinds, but not the time to tell them at the moment. Also, gentlemen don't kiss and tell. Good stuff though. Taking more pictures tonight, I think. We'll see. I have not only aquired a bit of an Irish accent, which I am trying hard to stop (my Canadian accent in both a novelty and a way to make friends), but I've been very much attempting to not type with a bit of an accent as well (ye and daft and dodgy and blokes and dare and class and lairy and geezers and... slang stuff.)

Oh, Cato, I looooove Dr. Who. I avoided it because I didn't realize the backstory was so intricate and awesome. I'm on the third episode of the second season now... Man, I really, really came to like the Ninth Doctor. Where the Tenth one is whimiscal, the Ninth was just... manic. I liked him. I'm not sure about the Tenth yet. I think the Ninth will end up being my favourite. I've read about the other ones too. Thanks for burning it man... it's served me well.

Anyway, internet time is almost up. I'm going to go get unaccountably drunk and die. Bet you I get involved in a bar fight tonight. This is going to be wonderful!

Drink and Drink and Drink and Drink and Drink and Drink and Fight!

I am alive. I am well. It's 1:30, I'm over at Jayne's house. This will be a quick update... I have a few entries written up on my laptop, but... I'm not on my laptop. Eh, it'll come later, perhaps. I have a million pictures. Well, about 200 since I got here. Do you know that I don't have any photo-editing program on here? Jesus Christ Almighty, I can't even turn a picture black and white! Anyway.

Things I have done since I arrived:
Learned how to climb 4 different types of barbed-wire and other types of things meant to inhibit the climbing of things.
Talked down a bar-fight.
Been to 14 pubs (I have them all written down, and my thoughts on them.)
Fallen in love with Gin and Tonic.
Remembered my love for Guinness.
Met many, many friendly people.
Taken up smoking as a way of meeting people (it's lovely for it.)
Got so unaccountably drunk that I fell into a Belfast accent and met some women who would not believe that I was from Canada.
Made up a dashing story of who I am (writer), where I was born (Groomsport), where I've been (Paris, Berlin, etc.), where my Mother and Father were born (Belfast and Dublin, respectively), and the whole damn family history.
Made people believe said story.
Been hit.
Had a nice chat with the police.
Ran from the police.
etc.

Holy shit, it has been a great adventure so far. I keep a little journal on me that I have been writing things in (and it helps with the writer story), and you should see it. It always gets funnier the drunker I get. Here's one entry: "July 8th, 12:02: Alright, I am drunk. I can accept that. I've learned to accept that." (It reminds me of the Achewood where Ray is high: "That's Todd. I know him. I know Todd." In fact, read that comic: http://m.assetbar.com/achewood/uuabz9GRp)

Anyway, tea's ready. God I love tea. Jesus, look at that list. I'm not coming home guys. I love you all dearly, but I'm not going to make it back alive. I can accept that. I've learned to accept that.

Leaving On A Jet Plane...

We leave for the plane in a mere 50 minutes. This will, of course, be my last entry for a while. There are many people that I'm going to miss very much, and some that I'm going to miss terribly. But, I'm sure I'll find enough over there to keep me occupied, heh. Here's hoping I find some Irish girl and stay there for a month longer than is planned... if that were to happen, I would in the least break my internet fast so that I could tell you guys. But... we'll see what happens. I hope that things go well in my absence... not better than they were when I was here, but well enough. Here's hoping you each think of me at least once an hour. In fact, I curse you to think of me at least once an hour. Actually, no... don't think of me at all. Seriously, I dare you, try not to think of me at all. (It doesn't work. I mean, if I were to say "hey, don't think about your mother having sex. Keep it out of your mind"... Your mind naturally thinks about forgetting it, and then thinks about it. Ew.)

Anyway. I'll miss you guys. I love you. I really, really do. That's all that needs to be said.

I Wish That I Knew What I Know Now...

Just reading old blogs, from The Troubles and such. It's great fun. But, I think it is important for me to say... Holy shit. I am not now who I was then. I love the Christopher from then... he was a lot more innocent, a lot more naive... He was just a kid. I know why things happened how they happened... because he was just a kid, and he didn't know what he was doing. He learned, and he grew, and I am so much in debt to the man I once was. If I had never taken all the shit I did, if I had stood up for myself then... I wouldn't be who I am now. And that would just be disastrous.

There are a lot of qualities of his that I wish I still had, that I'm going to attempt to get back. I can see it today, that I've gotten... harder. I'm a little meaner. I'm more willing to make a mean comment, even just in jest. Like... "that's why nobody likes you." I never said that back in the day. I'm joking when I say it... but that's not really an excuse.

Of course, is that true? Was I nicer back then? Or was I more fake? Cato knew me back then, he's known me through all my changes... Wasn't I always manipulative? Yes, I was. Because that's one of my bad qualities that I'm not ashamed of. As a student of people, of how they work, what they do (a sociologist without the degree)... I don't fault myself for using that knowledge for personal gain once in a while. But... was I mean back then too? I don't call myself a mean person now... but am I? Am I still Mr. Nice Guy? It's weird, you know, that once I became a pacifist I became almost less at peace with the world... from physically cruel and mentally nice to the opposite. Then again... maybe I'm being too hard on myself. Myself then or myself now... or both. I'd like a second opinion here... I can't judge myself against others, because I'm too biased. Am I still a nice guy? A good person?

Either way, it's never a bad idea to strive to be better. So, there you have it. Remind me to be a nicer guy in the future.