Sunday, March 26, 2006

Bloody Sunday

It's Mothering Sunday here...

I've had pictures and cards, wine, plenty of beer and a take-away.

My Dad turned seventy today

I called him; he's having a barbeque, not a buffet.

I really wish it would stop raining and warm up

That doesn't rhyme, but what the fuck...

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Ah Sure, Ya Know Yerself...

Being an expat is probably never easy. Being one in Ireland, when you're Canadian of Irish descent is, to say the least, interesting. There are things that Irish people accept as a matter of course that Canadians just would not tolerate (and really make my eye twitch). Let me give you a few examples...

My friend recently ordered a new bunkbed set for her child. Yesterday, her husband was (finally) in the mood to assemble it. When he got it almost completely assembled, he found that the safety bar AND the safety rail were missing. They expect to spend the next six weeks chasing the furniture store. Their child won't be allowed to use the top bunk until the safety gear is in place.

Recently, my mother sent a gift of money for our children. She'd gone to the trouble to have her money order made out in Euros so the kids wouldn't have to pay the exchange. Being very near a Canadian Military Base (and nothing else) my mother's bank buys its Euros from Germany. When I took the money orders to the Allied Irish Bank, they charged me a fifteen percent fee for exchanging "foreign" euros.

Women cannot access safe, legal abortions in this country. Women who choose to terminate a pregnancy have to go to the UK to do so. Before air travel was accessible to the masses, women went by ferry to England. It was so commonplace here, that one way to tell someone to fuck off is to say, "get the boat!" This was, apparently, the common response of a Dublin man not willing to shoulder his share of the burden when advised of an accidental pregnancy.

We'd been here about six months when I realized that I had to get out of the job I was in or go mad. I went to the local FAS office, which I thought was like the Canada Employment Centre. I was advised that nobody would speak to me until I'd registered. So, I filled out the forms and waited for a Counsellor to be available. Three hours later, I was sitting across the desk from this aul fella who told me that I was overqualified for anything they could offer me; so sorry; goodbye and good luck. A year later, I received a letter from the same office advising me that they thought they'd found something I might be interested in. It was the exact job I was trying to leave.

The other day we went on an outing with the clients from work. Due to the lifeskills nature of the trip, we took public transport. We had to catch a bus to the nearest town and then another to Dublin. When the connecting bus was an hour late, I took out my mobile to call the customer service number advertised at the bus stop to enquire what the problem was and when we might expect a bus. I was stopped by my colleague because she feared if we complained, the driver would retaliate by not coming at all. The clients agreed that this was the most likely scenario; I didn't call.

Now that Ireland has the wherewithal to do so, thanks the huge infusion of money from the EU, its expected to host refugees and other immigrant-type people. When you consider the number of Irish people who emigrated to other lands to make a better life for themselves and the racism they had to deal with, the begrudgery that some heap upon newcomers is more than just a little shocking.

The planners of the city of Dublin decided to create a tram system. They put in two lines, that don't connect. Then, they spent a year digging up the main street of the city, ripping down 130 year old trees in a bid to modernize it make it more tourist friendly. They got it almost finished and decided last week, that they need to redig the whole thing up in order to connect the two tram lines.

There are many things that used to rock my world that I don't even notice anymore... for example, we pay about $3.40CAD for a can of pop in a pub. Our children's free primary school education costs us a mandatory $500.00CAD per year,(not including what we contribute to the school's five annual fundraisers). Kids go to school from 9:15 to 2:25pm. The school tells us that happens 180 times per year, but we strongly suspect that number is exaggerated. Our house does not have such a thing as a thermostat to control the central heating system.

As a "blow in" I'm not always entitled to voice my frustrations. When I do, however, I often hear the very wise words, "Ah sure, ya know yerself"... and then I have a drink.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

The Sting of Rejection

There was a time when I thought I'd like to be a professional actor. While I'm pretty good at acting like I know what I'm doing and acting as though I give a shit most of the time, I'm more than a little bad at receiving rejection.

I had an interview for a job last Friday. It wasn't a job I particularly wanted, however, I am now four weeks away from being unemployed so every job is something I am burning to do and this one was the only one out of about half a dozen applications that had shortlisted me for interview.

The interview process itself was somewhat gruelling. First there was a group interview which started off with all the candidates, the interview panel, four members of staff and a partridge in a pear tree sitting in a circle and playing word association memory games so that we could all feel less, I mean, more comfortable with one another. We were asked several questions about large issues and then scored on our answers and the way in which we affected the group dynamic. The rest of the day included a written test and an individual interview. I left feeling confident that while I may not get the job, I'd done my best and hadn't let myself down.

This feeling lasted through the weekend and well into Monday. Tuesday, I was still okay, felt pretty confident that it was too soon for a decision to have been made. By Wednesday evening I had decided I didn't get the job. Thursday afternoon this was confirmed.

Immediately, my cheeks were on fire with the shame of it. (The shame of what, exactly?) Somehow, I went from feeling that I'd done my best and que sera sera to rewriting every moment of the day and casting myself as a loud, obnoxious, overconfident, underskilled buffoon. My rational self knows that this isn't true but my irrational self has gone over it and over it making it worse each time and chipping away at my self-esteem.

And after months of eating well and losing weight, I find myself slipping into old patterns of self-comfort which are all about eating and sleeping whether I need to or not.

This sucks. And it's not even close to being over yet.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Drunken Blogging...

is a bad idea. I've just deleted the steaming pile of crap I left here last night. I'd very much appreciate it if you did the same in your comments.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

IWD (again!)

Today is International Women's Day. This year, for the first time ever, I got something...

AN UNBEFUCKINGLIEVABLE HEADACHE!

It's one of those really fun tension headaches. The kind that come from having shoulder muscles so tense that my neck cracks every time I turn my head. It's like going to the chiropractor without the expense, or the relief. Okay, maybe not so much. I need drugs; the alcohol and caffeine combination isn't working for me.

Anyway, today women all over the world are celebrating their female-ness and I plan to join them. I'm not going to attend a rally or march this year though. This year, I'm going to the pool where I'll celebrate buoyancy as I perform aerobic feats impossible for me on dry land. Not the most feminist thing I've ever done for IWD but hey, maybe I won't bother to shave my legs first.

Speaking of buoyance, both of the women from my last post are doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. So am I.

So whether you are a woman or just play one on TV, happy day to you!

Saturday, March 04, 2006

A Weak Week

I have had one motherfucker of a week.

Having said that, I'm sure it was worse for the two women I know well who tried to kill themselves.

One is a client; the other a woman that I considered a good friend until a few months ago when her mental illness got in the way of our relationship. Both have lots of support and all the appropriate services in place. Both women survived this time; one because she wanted to, the other was just (un)lucky, I guess.

I planned to pour my heart out here... but I'm too tired to even determine what's inside me let alone regurgitate it at this point.