Yesterday was the first meeting of Modern Irish. Keep in mind, just because I have more Irish than the majority of my readers (since I think I can count you all on one hand...), doesn't mean I know much Irish in the overall scheme of things. I know more French than Irish, but I haven't used that in years, and it doesn't by any stretch mean I have a great level of proficiency. So I go to my Irish class, and by now I've met the other girls before (there are 4 of us doing the Masters in Irish, all girls.), and have even hung out a bit. Even inducted into a secret somewhat socialistic local Welsh society with one (??? More details later, as I learn what it actually is I've gotten myself into!). One of them has done some Irish and Welsh, but it has been a couple years and she is rusty. One has just completed an undergrad degree at Cambridge in Irish, I believe, but focusing on the Old, Middle, and Early Modern varieties. (For comparison in English, think about reading Beowulf, Chaucer, and Shakespeare in their original form. Though all English, it's not exactly what we speak now, so you study and treat it almost as another language.) The other did her undergrad here in Irish, and spent a year in the Gaeltacht in Ireland, I believe, so she's pretty competent....
... and then there is me. I have a BA in Literary Studies. My Irish is self/group taught with my beloved DFW Gaelic League, but... níl agam ach beagán Gaeilge (I only have a little Irish). I most certainly am not on par with these amazing women. I got to class yesterday and had my butt handed to me.
It was extremely humbling and a very unfamiliar feeling. I feel like I've landed myself in a calculus classroom without the benefit of knowing any algebra. Sure, I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide, but what is this "integral" you speak of? So I'm hoping the professor can help me work something out. Second class is tomorrow, so I shall go drown at least once more.
On a more exciting note, last night I got invited out after fencing, which the jury is out on whether or not I shall continue. My... ah... lovely lady lumps were more problematic than anticipated, despite the warning I should have taken from Busty Girl Comics:
Anyways. I thought it was an Irish language practice group meetup (it met before I got there?), but it turns out it was a musical get-together. Take turns singing/playing/reciting, no judgement. Good company, good music. Not knowing what I was getting myself into, I had gone home beforehand to check up on Ishbel, and decided to take her with me to the bar. She is a service dog, after all, and adorable. So off we went. I got my pint, and went up and found a chair, and promptly had a dog in my lap. She sat there the whole night - and seemed to make me more approachable to people, as I had at least 3 people come say 'hi' to her. When it came around to my turn - I had no idea such a thing would happen and was completely unprepared, mind you! - I gave a rather shoddy rendition of "I'se the B'y", a cappella, and quickly passed the torch to someone else. However, a couple of other people knew it and joined me for the chorus, which made it go faster and slightly less nerve-wracking. Someone I know did a lovely couple of songs on banjo, and another friend did "Red is the Rose," which I adore. It is a lovely traditional song, plus when I worked at the renaissance festival the first year, there was a performer who did this (among others) outside our shop at least once a day. There was also a man who did a most beautiful song in Breton (another Celtic language) that is intended to be in rounds, but he would only sing a few. Lovely voice, beautiful song. Since we had mutual friends, we are now connected on Facebook and I am leaning into him to teach us the song so we can sing with him. Exciting. All the while, Ishbel was an absolute angel. Her service-dog-ness also came in handy this morning; yesterday I was graciously forewarned that there would be an 8am fire drill today for my building. So we got up a little early to be ready. She barked and jumped in my face when the alarm went off. Such a good girl.
Being a service dog is hard work.
Cheers for now; I ought to sleep so I am bright eyed and bushy tailed for lectures tomorrow.
I've had a Gaelic Storm song in my head for a few days, and this post just made me feel the need to share it with you:
ReplyDeleteCome on and wade, way out into the water with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
With as much as it rains here we COULD drown on dry land; though I think that happens in Dallas too occasionally.
DeleteBut I am pleased that you have Gaelic Storm in your head - they are fantastic. ^_^