The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good:
We are moving to Vancouver.

YIPPEE!

The husband has been awarded a fellowship. So we are off for two years in September. I am very, very excited.

The Bad:
I am sick of it here. I don't want to come across as a big ol' moaner, but I don't know. I am just not feeling Ireland right now. I am sure it is temporary and I have to remind myself that I am lucky that I get to live in a pretty cool place, but I have never really felt at home here and now that this (temporary) move is on the horizon, I am finding it difficult to make attempts to make myself feel at home. I am so grateful for a lot of the things that living here has brought us - my husband has a job he loves, I am doing a very interesting course, we have made some good friends and we have the three best cats in the world. This is all because of our move to Ireland. But like I said, for some reason, I just never really settled here and for some reason RIGHT NOW I am finding myself become far-too nitpicky about life here and I don't like existing like that. I need a change of mindset. I guess that is a New Year's resolution?

The UGLY:
We got our marks for the first term. Me being me, I am ignoring the solid A's I got in three of the courses and focusing on the truly appalling mark I got in the fourth. I got a D. I have NEVER got a D in my life. I am shocked. And a bit angry, to be honest. The assessment was based on an essay and well, I didn't think the essay was half bad. The husband read it and he thought it was good as well. I know this is a new discipline for me and my writing experience is in the social sciences rather than the medical sciences, but seriously? A D? I e-mailed the professor already asking to set up a meeting, but since everyone has already buggered off, this won't be resolved until the New Year. So weeks of me obsessing about it. Ugh.

Luckily, it doesn't affect my overall average. I am still getting an A because this particular course is only worth 5 of the 30 credits. I did great in the two 10 credit courses and ace in the other 5 credit course, so that kind of makes up for it but that one outlier is just pissing me off and making me angry. Of course, the husband pointed out that the fact that it is such an outlier makes it almost null and void - people will look at my overall marks and assume some sort of strange circumstance, rather than assuming I am an idiot...I hope.

I am trying to move beyond my expectations of perfection. This sounds funny, but looking at my solid A marks I am actually frustrated that they weren't HIGHER. Because I am a freak. But I need to move beyond those perfection expectations and not let this get me as down as it is right now. Blah.

I think I am just a bit frustrated in general right now and this is a tangible area where I can place blame, whilst the other emotions I feel are more abstract and wishy-washy. I will try and move on.

Manga Me

I think it is a pretty good likeness. For a cartoon, of course.

The problem is she updates too little...

Okay, so I haven't been updating. I don't really know how to use this thing, to be honest. Do I use it like a journal? I don't really think that is viable. When I was a teenager, I kept a journal and when I moved overseas I couldn't take them all with me and my mother found them and it was horribly embarrassing having her read all those things that I did/thought about while I was a teenager. I can't even imagine that on a larger scale.

Or, do I use it to document the excitement of my life? Because that would be pretty damn dull, to be honest. I mean, my life isn't completely dull, but I am having a super bad day today, so it seems so much worse than it is. I am not feeling particularly smart or funny or attractive today and am having difficulty in believing that these feelings will ever change. But I know they will. The power of anti-depressants...

I have been on my medication for about 6 months now and tomorrow I have my first session with a shrink. Maybe that is why I am feeling all weird today. I went to a shrink once when I was a wee lass - my parents split up for a few years and they sent me off to a child psychologist to try and determine if I would be all fucked up by their splitting up. The verdict was no (I just remember a lot of playing with toys and missing school) and my parents got back together within two years. Anyway, I am a bit nervous about this psychotherapist thing. I guess I just worry that a) she is going to make me over-examine my relationship with my parents (which in all honesty is maybe not a bad thing) and b) she is going to judge me. Yes. I am worried about being judged by a person who is kind of paid to judge me. I get all nervous and chatty when I worry about things like this, so I am sure I am going to say something stupid.

Funny story, on my tendency to get all chatty when nervous. I had a job interview (on my birthday, no less) and from the minute I walked in, it went wrong. They hated me. I just could tell. My presentation was not well-received, none of my answers to their questions appeared to be what they were looking for...essentially, it was pretty much a nightmare. There was one woman who seemed slightly sympathetic towards me, and she was the one who escorted me out after the whole thing was done. On my way out, she said something about how they were interviewing the rest of the week, so they would contact me the following week. In response, I said, "Okay, great. So I won't top myself off if I don't hear from you."

Suicide is not something you should bring up in an interview. Ever.

All I meant was that wouldn't sit by the phone waiting. But my mouth started up before my brain fully formulated the sentence. Blah.

I bet I will say something really stupid tomorrow. I think this is causing me more stress than it should.

Also, I have quit smoking. Not like I smoked that much to begin with - I was much more a social smoker combined with one or two during the day. But I just decided it was time to stop. For many reasons. Firstly, I was just bored by it. Secondly, it will be nice to save some money. Third, I am starting my MPH (Public Health) in a few weeks and it would seem slightly strange to be even a casual smoker when I am trying to tell people how to be healthy as a population. Also, I have been really super healthy lately - food wise, exercise wise - and it just seemed strange to be clinging on to that one vice.

Finally - and this is the big one- the husband and I are seriously discussing the baby thing. Ah. Enough said.

One of my main problems with the smoking thing, however, is I find it incredibly easy to quit. I have super-willpower. Seriously. I mean, I get occasional cravings and stuff, but I have no problem powering through them. This is a double-edged sword though - because I find it so easy, it is easy to justify having one. Gah. But, we are going to avoid the bars and just kind of have some husband/wife time and it should be easy enough. Thank god for smoking bans and bad weather. Even if we do go to the pub, at least I won't be surrounded by tobacco.

And in closing, a cat photo. Because the cats are all awesome. And make me very, very happy. This is Paddington. He is lovely.

Rubbish

Yeah, so I am rubbish at updating this thing. I don't know - I suppose you kind of need to get into the groove of it all. I have not really been in any sort of groove for the past few months, but maybe things will start to settle a bit in the coming few weeks.

Lots has been going on in our little corner of Ireland. The kittens are doing well. They have been living with us for just over 5 months now. Two of them - Conor (our girl) and Paddington are little sweet cuddle bugs. Steve (the kitten formerly known as Niamh...until we found out she had testicles...ahem...we are rubbish at this kitten sexing thing) is still suspicious of us, but he seems to like living in the house, so we are happy as long as he is. The kittens are all fixed, de-fleaed and de-wormed and are generally a happy, playful bunch. We are well and truly cat people now.

I did some invigilating at the university here for exams. Fun. Not. Have plenty of stories to tell, so maybe I should write about that in the near future...hm....

June was busy for the husband - he had lots of conferences to go to and lots of exams to mark. At the end of the month, we headed to England for a birthday party for his brother and a good time was had by all.

And...it looks like I'll be heading back to school. After a four year hiatus, I am going to go get an MPH (Master's of Public Health). I met with the department, sent in my application and was notified yesterday that I had been accepted. The glow of acceptance is still with me, but I am sure as the start of classes approach, I will have a 'what the fuck am I doing?' moment. I look forward to it.

I'm so tired....

The husband and I ended up staying up until a bit later than norm for a weeknight last night watching cricket. Yes, I am a cricket fan. I resisted, I really did. I tried to avoid it. But, the husband is a CRICKET FAN. In summer 2005, it was England v Australia, and this is a big deal. We had just moved to London at the time - the husband was working from home and I was pounding the pavement, looking for a job. Anyway, test cricket matches last a maximum of five days (each). In this series they played five games. Oh, did I mention that they play for eight hours a day? So, essentially I was looking at twenty-five days of hot cricket action. It was at this time, I decided it was probably wise to learn a bit about the game - since it was going to be on the television and to give the husband someone to talk about it all to (in the past, I had just kind of glazed over when he started talking about wickets and creases and silly mid-offs). I didn't expect to get hooked. But I did, and it has been a solid feature of life ever since. We don't watch a lot of tv, but the tv we do watch can be divided between the Simpsons, American shows on DVD and sport. I can't believe I have turned into a sports fan.

The other sport I watch with regularity is tennis. Like cricket, was never a fan. Didn't understand it AT ALL. But, the husband is a fan, and during Wimbledon 2003, we were both working on PhDs from home. So, I learned the rules, learned the characters and a fan was born.

I am such a fan of both sports I even watch when the husband is not around. I think that is scary. I have always been one of those people who didn't give a damn about sports. Over-rated, I always thought. I avoided basketball and (American) football like the plague. In fact, I am so pathetic about football, that I didn't even realise that defense and offense are on the field at separate times. And I was a cheerleader (only for a year! I promise! I hated it! Really!). I learned more about football from the television show Friday Night Lights than I ever did from 22 years living in the US.

Anyway, the only two sports I somewhat tolerated were baseball and hockey, but even that was grudgingly, for the most part. My brother and my dad both play hockey, so I was forced to spend a lot of time in freezing cold rinks watching the sport. Even in my teenage years, I rationally understood that I should at least try and enjoy myself slightly in order to make the experience more tolerable. As for baseball, well, it probably is my favourite American sport...but that is not saying much.

So, I am becoming a sports fan. Who woulda thunk it?

The above photo was taken over that summer when I learned to love cricket. The English cricket team won their series against Australia (for those who don't know, a series between England and Australia is called The Ashes) in a thrilling fashion. There was a parade held in London. And so we went. Matthew Hoggard is my favourite cricketer, and the husband managed to snap a shot just as I screamed out "Matthew! Hello!" So he is waving at me. Behind him is the former wicket-keeper Geraint Jones. In the picture taken just after this one, Geraint Jones is totally giving my husband the eye. I swear.

Doctor, doctor, give me the news...

So, I had a doctor's appointment today. Time for the lady check up, if you know what I mean. And I think you do. Subtlety is not one of my strong suits.

So, it all looked fine - have to get the smear results back, but the doctor said, and I quote, 'You have a fine looking cervix.' Why thank you! I haven't really had the pleasure to check that puppy out much, so it was nice to hear that it's looking good. My mental health however, well, she is not good. We had a big long chat. It is something that has been brewing for a while, in all honesty, but right before Christmas the husband and I decided that it was probably time to seek some professional help. I feel so middle class and indulgent, but there you go. To be honest, I kind of worried she might laugh at me. But, she didn't. She took it all very seriously, and told me my options, including medication. She didn't want me to make any decisions right then and there, so we scheduled another appointment for next week where we will chat a bit more and then she will take some blood to rule out any sort of physical issue, like an under-active thyroid. So, that at least is making me feel a bit better. It hasn't been a great few days, but I am feeling happy that I have finally taken the bull by those figurative horns and taken some action on this issue.

And then there are the kittens. Good lord, I am finding it difficult right now. So many times today I have just wanted to open that damn door and kick them out, but that is not going to happen. I do love them, and I am glad we are giving them a good home, but they are just getting on my last nerve. But, patience, patience, patience. And, at this very moment, they are being sweet peas. Paddington is sitting next to me on the sofa (he loves Macs...see above photo) and Conor and Niamh are asleep on our bed. I am going to watch some Masterchef, then I think I will head upstairs and play with them a bit. They get annoying when they are bored, so I think that should solve the problem. Hopefully.

Speaking of Masterchef...the husband I are addicted to that show. But we have been burned by it before! In the second series, some old dude who cooked classic French food beat the wunder-kind JCB driver Dean, despite Mr French cooking being rubbish in all the pro-kitchens and a shite team player. Dean was wonderful. I still love you, Dean! So, anyway, I hope this year they make the right decision and let the lovely 18-year old Emily win. C'mon, Emily! If she wins, it won't make up for Dean-gate, but it will at least ease some of the pain I have been carrying for all these years....I kid...but not really.

New day, new blog

Hello blogging world!

First post on a new blog. Not sure what the purpose of this thing is, but there you go. I remember when I was in high school and I used to keep a diary, I never quite knew how to start a new one and I feel the same about this. Speaking of old diaries, I found mine when I was visiting my parents a few years ago. Good lord. That was some embarrassing reading!

Anyway, the name is Wendy. I am an American living in Ireland. Strange, huh? I never really imagined myself living in Ireland, but about a year and a half ago, the husband (who is English) got a telephone call with a job offer. So, we left our life in London and moved to Cork.

Life is strange.

Above, you will see a photo of a kitten. In a trash can. The husband and I have recently adopted three semi-feral kittens. Obviously, that is one of them! The kittens had been hanging outside our house for about three months. We would feed them, and then after Christmas, they started coming into our house for a little bit of a sleep. So, about two and a half weeks ago, we decided to just keep them in and see how they got on. And they have got on fabulously. They sleep, play, eat, play, sleep. Anyway, the above picture was taken when, one afternoon, the husband and I were sitting downstairs when we heard a loud crash. I put the laptop away and went upstairs to see what was going on and, apparently, Conor (the kitten in the photo) had gone to have a little stretch or something while sitting on my sewing table and the towel she (yes, Conor is a she...we named her before we knew and the name has stuck) was sleeping on slipped from under her, taking both her and it into the trash can. Conor obviously found the space comfortable because she showed no inclination to move until the husband went over to check to make sure she was okay.

So freaking cute.

I am sure I will be regularly posting pictures of the kittens. The other two are Paddington and Niamh. I swore I wouldn't become some sort of crazy lady who only talks about her cats, but seriously - they are all just too adorable. I will try to avoid turning this into a kitten blog, but you never know....