Twid's musings

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Half Asleep thread will deal with some of my weird dreams. This one will be IRL memories and musings. Post pending.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

It's interesting being split between two geographical areas. One is definitely home, and the other is "home". Especially if your Irish.

See, I was born and raised and have lived continuously in Boston, like my mother. My father is from Connemara, which, if you're unaware, is located in County Galway, Ireland. This means that I am both Irish and American. I hate to identify myself as Irish-American. They're different facets of the same person. Irish-Americans are those douches from Southie or Charlestown, with a vague understanding of what Irish or American means.

I'm getting away from the point.

I've been going to Connemara since I was 4 (1985). Everytime I go, I get a deeper impression of it. It effects me more psychologically with each visit. There are numerous factors here. But the one thing that always gets me is the night time in winter there.

In Boston, a semi-major city, there are almost NO stars.

In Connemara, out in the middle of rustic Ireland, all cow-smelling and resting on our horse breeding laurels, and our noxious fishing, there is no sense of what is urban. Ok yeah, Galway City, but that's nothing to an American. Even now that I live in a fairly "suburban" city just outside of Boston, nothing compares to it.

When I am in Connemara, I am afraid at night. It's just different. It's very quiet. And by quiet I mean the absence of normal city sounds. There are sounds, but they are all unsettling. The wind bellowing through the hills, the storm at night, and the darkness...

I've never seen anything more fantastic than the nightsky in Connemara. Stars. All over the fucking sky. In Boston you can catch the occasional recognizable constellation like Orion. And yet, with all of those distant suns burning, it gets so dark, so desolate, so frightening (it just looks so fucking big). Sure, there are the drunks stumbling out at 2 am, but after that, it's you, the wind, the stars, and darkness. Sure you have street lights in the town square, but walk three blocks and you better hope you have a flashlight or the moon to guide you.

I don't believe in faeries and all that rot (foul smelling Pagan though I am). But one time I was out on my dad's porch smoking a cigarette, at about 3 am (jet lag's a bitch), and the wind was howling through the hills, and the Milky Way stretched out above me, and by god, I touched iron (the steel railing) just to keep them away. I was just struck by it all, and I gave into superstition, just in case.

A change in scenery can do a number on your thinking, for better or worse.


God, I miss Connemara...