a heart that hurts is a heart that beats

i only title that because i was listening to U2 while closing tonight, which always gets me a little down since i'm alone in the dark (like a coffee scented cave) and i was deep in my thoughts swirling in my cloudy head, and Bono crooned that line.  it hit me right when i felt it.  ugh, then i got weird and emotional and needed a 4 mile run to make me feel better.  it worked.  thanks, Bono.  maybe i'll tell him in person if/when i see him...

on that note, this trip has become more detailed than i ever foresaw...ssssshocking, i know.  i feel it's kinda like getting married:  in theory, it sounds awesome and fun and easy and great!  just throw some invitations together, get yourself a pretty white(ish) dress and your love will solve the rest.  then before you know it you are going to cake tastings that specifically match your color scheme, making lists of who is and isn't invited, helping bridesmaids find their dresses, trying to figure out the best hotel for grandma and grandpa to stay in, timing the ceremony, trying to lose weight, what food and/or booze, blah blah blah blah...or so i hear.  wait, where was i?

right!  ireland.  so in theory it's fun and easy, then you book flights, hotels, set dates, figure out bus schedules, what you want to do and how to get there, best deals within a budget, packing the most efficiently, trying to contact B&Bs, how to protect myself, and then you find yourself rubbing your chest for comfort in the travel section of BookPeople because you never would have remembered to call a credit card company to tell them you will be in Ireland and England, find the right outlet converters, or even thought to remember numbers for the RAPE HOTLINE in Dublin...but i over-exaggerate.

but it covers up overall excitement.  this is something i have been dreaming about for years and years and years, and here it is.  three weeks to the day.  fuck.  i remember staring at the bright, smiling moon when i was younger thinking it was the same moon that splashed its light in Ireland.  i used to listen to irish morning radio when i would study late at night (it's a six hour difference).  i have written numerous, numerous papers on Ireland and its media.  i wrote about Ireland in Hebrew!  my prof would ask my questions about Ireland in class and i would answer in Hebrew.  i know more about Ireland than most of my friends.  it is the one thing i cared about for a long time.  it changed my life in a single answer:

if you had all the money you wanted, what would you do: I would go to Ireland...shit.  i was supposed to say Harvard Divinity School.  or Yale Divinity School.  fuck.  i don't want to go to divinity school.  i want to go to Ireland.

so many years later, and an extra major and minor dropped, here i am.  going to my motherland.  i think one reason why i can't get that excited is that i have no idea what to expect.  i don't know what it really, realistically looks like.  i've seen pictures, but i've never walked the streets.  i've listened to the music, but never in the warmth of a real Irish pub.  i've met Irish men, but never alone in their home country.  oy vey!

and this London stuff is tripping me out, too.  i can't believe i am going there!  i booked the flight and the hotel, and i am set.  i watched the beginning of Love Actually, and cried thinking, i'm gonna be there when it looks like this!!!  so, yeah, good times.

three weeks.  three.  weeks.  this is so much better than dating!!