Two-thousand-and-eight: a review
Two-thousand-and-eight will always be a year dearly remembered in my heart. It was a year of closure, healing, love and hope. It began quickly and stressfully for me; the rush of trying to find a place to live in a foreign country while working full-time to cover shifts for a manager after a rollover car accident broke her husband’s spine. There was scarcely a second to breathe, let alone stay up until into the wee hours of the night, waiting to get in touch with apartments in Ireland. Finally however, a place was secured, bags were packed and a flight boarded. I remember arriving in Dublin at the crack of dawn, the plane flying westward over the sea having looped around for landing. Lights glittered against the dark waters as life began to stir with the sun’s touch. I watched every second of that landing as the houses and cars grew. I remember the thud of the plane hitting ground; that beautiful and harsh jolt that in its finality brought the reality of the moment to life. I was five thousand miles away from anything and anyone I’d ever known and instead of feeling terrified, I felt maddeningly free.
Springtime in Dublin was lovely. Although the Emerald Island is very brown and barren in these frozen months, its desolate branches were beautiful to me. I had never seen a true winter where trees stay without leafs for extended periods of time; in Arizona, trees re-grow their leaves in January sometimes. In Dublin, their bare branches stretched across all my months there, until suddenly waking up to blossom sometime during the course of my five days spent in Austria, they filled all the streets and walkways with their cool green umbrage. The flowers also fascinated me; cherry blossoms became my photographic obsession and daffodils seemed a weed with their persistent presence in every bit of soil. The cold became bearable and even enjoyable; in Arizona there is no need to accessorize with such cute scarves and jackets. I settled in for the long winter’s haul.
Settling is always much easier with good company and I’ll admit, I was very lucky to have the company that I had. Moving in to Shanowen, I had the luck to have such a kind roommate willing to show me the ropes around Dublin’s fair city. Kelly and I shared many a grand night out together. I lucked out too, in a chance meeting as I ran late to orientation and found a lost Helene searching for the room. She and Robert were the best travel buddies a person could ask for and together we explored much. The most random (and treasured) of meetings however, would have to be Phil though. Meeting at a FotoSoc event, I almost walked away from this amazing individual as he asked the silliest of queries (“Was it just me, or was that guy American?”). Guilt (and possibly some Irish luck) stopped me and we spent the next hour and a half out in the freezing cold talking, laughing and complaining. Through him I met the other individuals (Dani, Mathias, Maria, Ronan, Nathalie, Lisa, Ana, Barbara) that would make the next months so eventful after Kelly left for the States again. I had the best of company in these individuals and with them, Ireland became home.
The last two months there flew by; there was never a dull or spare moment to life. Travel, study, drink, eat, sleep, dance, laugh, love. As the days went by, I found a peace within myself that had been lacking not just since the previous September’s events, but the past months and years. I found the adventure in life again; the thrill of seeing new places, new people, and trying new things. I had forgotten this zest of life in the monotonous stuffiness of the life I had lived in Tempe. I had also forgotten what it is to simply love and enjoy a person as a partner, having before been distracted and trapped instead within the nuisances of living costs and external stresses. In Phil I found something I’d never expected to find in Ireland; a person I would be willing to sacrifice and endure the misery (and it is indeed the most horrible of misery) of separation for something far greater than the sum of ourselves. Phil is incredible, an amazingly intelligent, kindhearted, caring, silly, funny, talent and beautiful person. He changed my life so unexpectedly and (despite my better efforts to thwart him) showed me how life and love heal even the most stubborn of wounds.
So soon I learned these lessons and too soon I left for Arizona. Leaving Ireland, I sobbed as I never had for Arizona. Arizona is home, yes, but a home by birthright. Ireland is an earned home, earned through photo contests, weekend trips, drunken whiskey nights, endless bus rides down O’Connell street, Temple Bar moments, and gazing at the city lights from the Ha’Penny after a long night out. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing the fair city.
The rest of the year is a blur of election news, thesis stress and graduation preparation. The days flew by during the summer as I toiled away selling custom frames and crystal. The semester started off with a bang as I avoided the first week of classes to fly to Vancouver for a reunion with Phil, Helene and Robert. I watched a good friend get married and celebrated in the true Las Vegas spirit of too much alcohol consumption. I showed Phil around Arizona and sadly said goodbye to him yet again for another three months. I had a computer crisis and made very good but also very alcoholic tasting tiramisu. I had the best Halloween (and Christmas) with the dearest of my Arizona friends. I celebrated the victory and joy of the election with the calling of Ohio, amazed with the surge of hope within my heart. I had quite a lot of sushi for my birthday on two separate occasions and it was wonderful. I passed all my classes (and with better marks than in Dublin) and celebrated Christmas with too many hours stuck at work. I jetsetted off to Munich, almost missed my flight and rang in the New Year’s short of eight hours from the time change to Austria. Although the three weeks in Austria most certainly count as 2009, in spirit they are a continuation of the promises and joys of 2008. The three weeks there were utter perfection and among the happiest days of my life.
Two-thousand-and-eight was a marvelous year, far greater than 2007 or indeed, any other year in my memory. I learned how to truly live on one’s own with no one else to depend upon closer than five thousand miles. But more important than this lesson on survival, was the lesson on living. For although possible to live so alone, life simply isn’t as vivid or sharp without the individuals who color our lives in their friendship, love and companionship. Two-thousand-and-eight showed me this and no matter what happens in life or the future, I will always treasure the memories of this past year. I hope that 2009 will be as beautiful and bright for us all.