The Importance of Being Realistic - 5/7/10
When I was in High School I really wanted to be a creative writer. A novelist, a poet, something. I though my life would be cool and relevant and be filled with equal parts accolades and popularity. We went to the Irish Writers Museum and there seems to be a general trend: "Man, they were a great writer, but they hated themselves!" After listening to what looked like a Cobbler's tool for making shoes talk about the canon of the Irish Literary Set I could figure out if they were all morose because they were too crazy/brilliant or if they were just Irish.
Not to sound culturally insensitive, but the museum spanned the the 19th and early 20th centuries. That was not exactly the best time to be Irish. I now know more about James Joyce than I ever needed to. One thing I found funny was the fact that he always wrote about Ireland, but he felt oppressed there so he peaced out. I might try to start reading Ulysses again. However, it took me 20 minutes to think about reading it, so I can only imagine actually trying to read it will be about as fruitless.
It rained this day. It literally was the nicest Irish summer in the history. It rained 4 times while I was there. All four times I had no umbrella, jacket, and was always walking somewhere. I looked like someone thew Oliver Twist in a lake.