"The only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man...!"

Today's most notable event was my visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral, the largest and most magnificent church in Ireland. Located in the southern portion of the Viking/Medieval District, St. Patrick's is known for its impressive facade and decadent interior. What was intended to be another jaunt in the name of enthusiastic tourism quickly became an adventure all its own.


When we arrived at St. Patrick's, I immediately found myself impressed by its appearance. I had to stand pretty far away to get the entire structure in one camera shot. It's surrounded by a small park and a beautiful graveyard, not to mention a number of people, tourists and Dublin natives alike. The outside of the church demanded respect and awe, as the details within the architecture completely encompassed the entire building. (Side note: I've been on a mad hunt for flying buttresses. If you don't know what they are, look them up. They're my favorite, and St. Patrick's satisfied my bizarre craving for that particular aspect of architecture.) When we finally found the entrance, I couldn't help but be slightly put off by the 5 euro entrance fee. After all, I just wanted to snap a zillion photos. So instead of digging into my purse for that amount, I succumbed to my cheap demeanor and elected to be a little... sly. I waited around for about 20 minutes on the sidewalk outside the entrance, and when the (free) church service started, I made my move.


Make no mistake, I did not decide to stay for the service just to get my pictures, though it was undoubtedly the best perk. The music coming from the organ and the choir were phenomenal, and the sermon was my favorite kind: relatable and brief. Feeling slightly guilty for my itch to photograph anything and everything, I donated 50 cents during the collection. As soon as the service concluded, I started snapping like a madwoman, but it seemed as though no number of pictures could account for the incredible beauty of the cathedral. Surrounded by stained glass windows composed of pieces the size of my fingernails and a sense of antiquity profound enough to rival any history textbook, I decided the 50 cents and 90 minutes of my time were well worth it. I left St. Patrick's Cathedral with a full memory card and a contented heart. Not to mention, I've been humming "Son of a Preacher Man" to myself all day, much to the chagrin of my comrades.

"In Dublin's fair city where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone...!"

Greetings from Dublin!

I've been here for four full days now and I must say, I feel as though I have found a place I couldn't have even dreamed of before coming here. Dublin is a fascinating, fast-paced city with pieces of history on almost every street to juxtapose the year 2010. After sticking with my group for the first couple days to avoid feeling lost, I now feel comfortable enough to venture out on my own, and the rewards of that independence have been substantial. Yesterday I walked along the River Liffey, which flows right through the middle of Dublin. A number of bridges run over the water, and the further you walk down, the more modern the bridges appear. I started by crossing a bridge that has been here since 1880, and eventually ended up on the Samuel Beckett Bridge, which just opened this year and bears a striking resemblance to the symbol of the Irish government and Guinness beer, a harp. Now I understand that bridges are not exactly enthralling, but my point is that Dublin is full of old and new. Elderly gentlemen sit and eat lunch in front of pubs while the younger crowd, clad in the latest trends that accommodate the rain and wind, passes by in a rush. Today I visited the Black Church, a humble old monument that quietly stands on a piece of land surrounded by streets that carry whirring buses and beeping motorcycles.

Hostel life has been an adventure all its own. Living with five other people in what I'm estimating is an 8' by 15' space has taught me to be patient and very quiet when I go to bed at night, as I am certainly the night owl of the group. I already wonder if it will be odd to sleep in a room by myself when I return home, so I'm actually enjoying the excessive company for now. The comfort that comes from sitting at a big wooden table with your friends for breakfast in the morning and that pre-bedtime calm time at night has become invaluable to me.

After what has already been a full week, I find myself wondering what Dublin has yet to show me. Tomorrow I plan to revisit the Viking/Medieval area and Grafton Street, my favorite places so far.

"Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense." -Mark Overby

Valentine's Day is on the horizon, so let me ask you something...


Would you hook up with this?














What about this?
















We all have different expectations in a companion. Whether you're into flashy displays of affection like the Superb Bird of Paradise or hardcore commitment like a lobster, you have an idea of what kind of counterpart you want.

Animals are much more upfront about their ideals. They are inherently programmed with a kind of honesty that is rare in humans. We often feel the need to mask our intentions or desires with coy demeanors and carefully-styled exteriors, which begs the question, how far will that get you?

Could animal honesty be the trick to successful relationships, both casual and monogamous? I understand that most animals have their specific mating rituals because they want to perpetuate the species as successfully as possible, but outside of that fact, perhaps the animal kingdom is more adept at the art of love because they are so fearless about it.

Would you ever imagine that this creature is a violent lover?







Not likely.



Believe it or not, garden snails can be brutal when it comes to professing their attractions. Even though they possess hermaphroditic characteristics, they shoot "love darts" at their mates in a ritual that can last hours on end. Acting as a less appealing incarnation of Cupid's arrows, the darts are intended to maximize the effectiveness of mating, and the snails will circle each other in a vicious waltz until they are ready to copulate.

While every species in the animal kingdom is unique in its courtship, they are all honest. Animals are permitted to live without the demands of human life that make us so blind to love's potential. They are genetically designed to seek out the ideal mate, wearing their hearts on hypothetical sleeves until they find him or her.

So regardless of what or whom you're looking for this February 14th, reckon with yourself as to what you really want. When you figure it out, I suggest employing honesty to get it.

"Pain nourishes courage. You can't be brave if you've only had wonderful things happen to you.'' -Mary Tyler Moore

Like most people, I am visually stimulated. (Groundbreaking, right?) I often find myself checking nationalgeographic.com for great photographs. Today, when I went to the famed yellow-bordered website, something else stopped my short attention span right in its metaphorical tracks: an article on bionics.

An obvious element of our society is an emphasis on technology. Every time you get your hands on the latest gizmo, Apple manages to launch something better. But what happens when people become technology, and vice versa?

The people featured in National Geographic's article were either born with their physical flaws, or endured some kind of trauma that stole their once-"normal" capability, like a car accident or diving mishap. To compensate, they sought medical attention in the form of robotics that ring true with the image of C3PO sans metallic exterior.

Amanda Kitts, a woman featured in the article, lost the majority of left arm in a car wreck several years ago. She now wears a bionic arm to act in place of the one she was born with. What is truly impressive though, are the links between the machinery and her own brain. When Kitts lost her arm, she did not surrender the transmissions in her brain that told her arm how to move. Scientists have managed to bridge the gap between man and machine to such an extent that when Kitts' brain tells her bionic arm to move, it obeys.

While the article is rather technical in parts, it strikes a chord in the imagination where we fathom such feats. Bionics are giving people back what they never should have lost. I have to wonder, however, how far is too far? At what point do robotics and bionics and other things ending in -ics reach their greatest height? Where do the wires halt, giving way to the most advanced piece of technology to date: the perfectly hideous human brain.

To read the article and see the pictures for yourself, visit:
http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2010/01/bionics/fischman-text

"Trying to make order out of my life was like trying to pick up a jellyfish." Gene Tierney

Today I found myself enraptured by a surprising topic: invasive jellyfish.

I've always viewed these mysterious bubbles of gelatin as fascinating creatures despite their bad reputation, spawned from the threat of a nasty sting. Many people have seen a jellyfish at an aquarium or maybe even on a beach. They appear gentle and non-threatening, completely absorbed by their own floating existence. So besides their predisposition for issuing the only reason why one human being should ever pee on another, what more harm could they do?

I give you the nomura jellyfish:


The nomura, a gentle giant in the most sincere form, has been accused of wreaking havoc on Japan's fishing industry in the past year. When caught in one of the comically expansive nets used by the fishermen, nomura is known to rip massive holes in it. For this, the planet-like creature is known as a menace of the worst kind. I find this accusation tragic, especially since the plan for any future nomura "invasions" is to monitor their populations and deal with them accordingly. Isn't the problem here the fishermen? Call me crazy and sentimental, but I'm pretty sure the jellyfish were here first.

It seems to me that the issue at hand is that the jellyfish are not too big for their world, but their world has become too small.

"Girls we love for what they are; men for what they promise to be." -Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

While perusing CNN.com this evening, I stumbled across an article that piqued my interest, as my mind is a magnet to controversy. The article explained that Indian officials recently apologized to the public for featuring a foreign persona in an important national ad campaign. The ad, which depicted a handful of significant public figures, included Tanvir Mahmood Ahmed, a former air force chief from Pakistan. Ahmed's inclusion in the campaign rattled the palpable tension between India and Pakistan, a product of three wars and decades of hostility.

What was the ad campaign, you ask? Good question, because its message is completely buried by the public outcry of disapproval. The ad supports National Girl-Child Day, a day that celebrates female children and raises awareness about female feticide, "sex-selective abortions blamed for a skewed ratio of males to females in India." The ad depicts several prominent men, with a caption that reads, ""Where would you be if your mother was not allowed to be born?"

After reading the article, I found myself somewhat sad and slightly disgusted that such a message is now eclipsed. I have to wonder how many people actually took in the ad for what it was instead of whom. I've worked in PR and I know how important it is for the client to be satisfied with their image, but isn't the client female children here? Isn't it their promotion that needs to reach the citizens of India? If I had to guess, I would venture that many women in India, who have compassionate parents to thank for their mere existence, are not too thrilled that their day was ruined by an advertising faux pas.

To read the article for yourself, go to:
http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/asiapcf/01/25/india.pakistan/index.html

New semester, new start. I anticipate and adore winter break as much as the next student, but by the time January is in full force, I start itching to return to academia, land of plenty. I thrive on being surrounded by other people my age, whose minds, hopefully, are not yet penetrated by harshness and cynicism.

Recently, I found myself in a discussion about mental conditioning. Before you write me off as a total square, hear me out. If no one had ever told you that something was impossible, that you couldn't do it, how would your mind be different? If mom and dad hadn't told you that you couldn't fly, would you still think that if you tried hard enough, you might lift right off the ground and go float on a cloud? If no one ever said that there weren't monsters under the bed, would you still do a running leap onto the comforter every night? What does a mind unscathed by reality look like? Would you eventually figure everything out on your own? Probably, but it would be fun along the way!