Everyone's Irish on...well, during the whole month...

Over the last few years I've grown sort of used to it, mostly because it happens all of the time; that moment when I open my mouth and say perhaps one word and bring upon myself a torrent of surprise. I mean, who thinks of how they sound every moment of every day?  You'd think I was doing something like this:

"Where's the leprechaun?"

It's like I'm magical; famous by verb. Why though? Because my little northern Irish accent is different from everyday sounds people hear? Surely I'm not a better or different person simply because I enunciate more and end the end of my sentence on an upswing instead of steady. Why am I such a novelty? We are saying the same words, mostly. We are looking at the same objects, discussing the same subjects. Why does having a non-American voice make me so unique? Billions of people don't sound like Americans but I still often field comments that make me feel out of place, more than a little uncomfortable, and rather alone. I have wondered before if a person wants to be my friend or my accent's friend.


"Oh my GOSH. Your accent is so cute."
"Keep talking! I love you!"

"It's funny because you say ______ instead of  ______ like we do. That's adorable."
"I could listen to you read the phone book..."
"Irish accents are so pretty. What do you think of American accents?"
"I can do a great Irish accent, wanna hear?!
"It's like you're from Braveheart..."
"I love Irish accents. You're so lucky to be from Ireland!"
"You're from Ireland? What's it like there??"
"You sound like you're from Harry Potter."
"Oh, oh, oh, oh! Say _______" (that one is probably my least favourite...)

While getting compliments on the way I naturally speak is strange, I usually just shrug it off with a slightly awkward "Heh, heh,...thank you?" (Really, how does one take a compliment for just being a certain way?) and go on my way. Sometimes I'm amused (usually when little kids hear me talk and they get all shy and cute about it or when "speech chameleons" accidentally throw out words in my accent by pure accident haha) but sometimes I'm genuinely puzzled or kind of creeped out by the way people phrase their enjoyment of........well.......me.

For instance, the whole "You're so lucky to be from Ireland! What's it like there?" one rather puzzles me. Every place has it's fantastic pros and it's horrific cons. Pro? I live in a beautiful country- it's mysterious and breathtaking and the culture is friendly, intricate, and vibrant, kinda like the folks who live there and the music they play. Con? There's the whole foreign occupation thing and the war that went on when I was a kid. The oppression that is felt even today. Marching season and the riots. There are murals on many corners and museums and jails that have sordid pasts and unpleasant presents. They are constant reminders of both proud moments and of fearful times simultaneously.

"Welcome to Sheils Street. Let's talk about revolutionaries. Pearse, Sands. Oh, some dancers, and  kids playing hurling..."

I have always thought it was funny how everyone becomes Irish on St. Patrick's Day (I'm wearing green, see how my nationality changed?), but it's become more than that within the last two years-ish. If I meet someone even in February or April, they'll tell me how Irish they are and how much they love St. Patrick's Day. They'll tell me of their great-great-grandfather who was from Dublin or Cork, they'll tell me how they've been to Ireland (but never went up North), and they'll tell me how green is their favourite colour. Some of them know about "riverdancing", or Celtic Woman, or will know that the Irish economy is wretched right now.

Admittedly I always feel a bit let down by the lack of knowledge of the important things though; have we really been reduced to Michael Flatley, Dublin, and leprechauns with the occasional flock of sheep or guy that looks like this?

"Ah, lads! Would you ever look at those gorgeous sheep there! Pardon me while I go pick some praties and dig turf..."

That picture is rather blurry....here:         

 "Everyone walks around with a smirk and one eyebrow cocked. Of course, you must be ginger-haired with plaid on your body somewhere. Bow-ties and sheep are actually optional.but muck boots and a stick are an obligation."

I'm not saying that if you don't study the history of Ireland, understand the politics and unrest, or know the names of the Seachtar na Cásca or the 1981 Hunger Strikers you're a wretched person, but if you claim to be Irish, you should know at least a little about the people who've kept stewardship of Ireland before you were alive. You should know how to say more than "kiss my ass" in Irish (Aim high! Go for "My name is _____.") and you should know better than to assume that all Irish people are the same.

I'm not some illiterate and ignorant shepherd's daughter. My father is an avid fisherman, go raibh mile maith agaibh go léir ;)
I'm not from Dublin.
I'm not from Cork (thanks be to God! lol).
The city my family is from is under foreign occupation.
This city has seen war and bloodshed that you won't find in a movie.
Our language was almost extinguished.
Our dance form isn't flailing legs and bobbing heads.
We don't say "Top o' the morning to ya." unless we're mocking someone.
You will not be able to out-drink us but we aren't all drunks.
No one, I repeat, no one, drinks green beer unless they're already under the table.
We don't eat corned beef and cabbage for every meal.


Let's talk about the weird questions too. I've discovered that if you want to be sorely amused by ridiculous misconceptions, be from another country.

"What do you eat in Ireland?" Erm....food? Normal food? Plenty of stew?
"Do you have indoor plumbing?" - It's not the sticks I live in, you know. We don't squat over holes...
"WHOA- is that elvish?!?!" - a boy saw a shirt of mine with Irish written on it...
"Are you speaking Chinese?" - what?!?!
"Do you guys say ____ in Ireland?" In case you haven't noticed, we're actually speaking the same language...

etc., etc., etc., ...

I am constantly amused and exasperated by the questions I'm asked. And often quite confused...

I do love being from Ireland though, and wouldn't trade it for the world. Greece, my other half, is pretty fantastic though as well <3 




















.

Sean McDonagh, Gaeilge, and the Irish language...

Lately our flat has been having some serious struggles....one of my flatmates is driving everyone up the walls. It's exhausting, exasperating, and it's positively ridiculous; for the last week or so my flatmates and I have been deciding what to do with ourselves so that we can get some peace. Things changed a bit when I was having a conversation with a fellow from our town in Ireland.

Sean McDonagh is a fellow in our town who was injured while in the IRA- he sustained a pretty severe traumatic brain injury and he now spends his time blissfully unaware of the trials of life, just making his way around the town and outlying residences. People feed him and give him shelter (he does have his own house but he gets lonely in there and wanders around because he likes to be around people) and sit to talk to him. Because of his innocence, he somehow manages to end up giving great advice. Anyhow, he wandered into one of my best friend's house randomly while Seamus and I were talking about work and so he proceeded to say hello on Skype. Our conversation went something like this :)

Seamus: Oh! Sean's here. Whoa
Sean: (He rather shoved Seamus out of the way haha) Sinead! Ah, it's so grand to see you! You're so far away though. How's America??
Seamus: Sean, you need to say excuse me, remember?
Sean: No, I don't remember. Excuse me. Now how are you?
Sinead: Grand, Sean. How's home?
Sean: Oh just grand so. When are you coming home? I miss you. (He looks awfully forlorn and I always feel bad haha)
Sinead: Not for a while yet, I'm still in classes.
Sean: Ah that's right. Aw. Who will I teach songs to?
Sinead: Teach Seamie! Then he can teach me. I need a new song actually, I have a gig tomorrow and they want a sean nos piece. Americans love that sort of thing.
Sean: You mean it? (He did a bit of a dance and gave a sort of a war woop haha) Now!
Sinead: Well I'm sorry to say that I haven't the time just now, Sean. Perhaps tomorrow haha.
Sean: What could be better than learning a new song? (He was truly puzzled by this haha)
Sinead: Nothing! I just have some grading to do. Seamie was giving me some work that I need to start on as well.
Sean: Alright but you never have any time anymore. (He looks quite downtrodden)
Sinead: Haha, that's what happens when I'm far away in classes and teaching.
Sean: America is going to kill you, you know. Slow down!
Sinead: Ha, sometimes it feels that way certainly. Everything is hustle and bustle and people don't know how to be normal sometimes.
Sean: If you don't have time for new songs, yes it is. Too busy!
Sinead: Haha. What I wouldn't give to just be relaxing.
Sean: Come home then. Now.
Sinead: Can't do, Sean. I've got to be here.
Sean: Well what's new then? In America. (His eyes shine a bit when he says the word America like it's a magical kingdom he wants to visit in the clouds haha)
Sinead: Well not much. My dance students just finished a test. That's what I'm grading. And, truth be told, I'm avoiding one of my flatmates. She's mental.
Sean: Oooh, I know all sorts of mental people. (I winced a bit, not sure if he was talking about himself or other people he met with TBIs in hospital...)
Sinead: Oh Sean, you're not mental.
Sean: Oh! I wasn't talking about me! There's a fellow who gets drunk at Rafferty's and he says the weirdest shite.
Sinead: I'm not sure if that qualifies as mental, Sean haha. No, my flatmate is a hoarder and does nothing around the flat to contribute. She's inconsiderate and she's got no ambition. All she does is make excuses.
Sean: A hoarder?
Sinead: Seamus, show him a picture of hoarding..
Seamus: Just a minute. (Sean leaned in intently, about an inch from Seamie's face haha I could hear clicking and watched as they leaned in a bit closer to look and see which picture was suitable). Okay, this one's pretty good. Look, Sean.
Sean: My God! That's foul! Where does she keep all of her....her... (he can't think of a word)
Sinead: Hoardings.
Sean: Sure. The mountain of shite! (He's in disbelief haha)
Sinead: Hahaha. It's in our parlour.
Sean: My house doesn't look like that.
Sinead: Haha, I'm glad. It's rather embarrassing when people come visiting.
Sean: Ach. (He wrinkled his nose a bit at the thought haha)
Sinead: Yes, ach. Everyone in the flat is upset with her because NO one likes living like that. She has a huge amount of clutter.
Sean: Cutter? Knives?
Sinead: Clutter... it means things that don't have a proper place.
Sean: Ah. You're using too many big words. (He frowned at me a bit)
Sinead: Sorry. I'll be more careful haha
Sean: Good. You know my head doesn't remember the words (This is something interesting about Sean- he refers to his head and his hands as separate entities almost...like he this he has no control over them and they do as they wish haha)
Sinead: Right, I'd forgotten. (It's rather impossible to forget, but as he doesn't particularly like talking about his injury or forgetfulness I figured I'd bite..)
Sean: I know, I forget things all the time.
Sinead: Haha, that you do. Seamus was telling me about your pipes.
Sean: Ah, yeah. They got lost.
Sinead: Did you find them?
Sean: Wouldn't you know I did! I left them at the pub.
Sinead: Haha, good then. Doesn't do to misplace those. You saved a lot of money for those.
Sean: I did?
Sinead: Sure- cousin Eamonn said you saved for several months because you wanted nice ones.
Sean: Dunno why I bought them. I don't know how to play. (He doesn't remember that he was, in fact, and very very skilled player. He carries them with him almost everywhere though, so it's a bit funny). Wasting money... (He looks upset)
Sinead: Well they're found so that's what matters.
Sean: Sure.
Sinead: Good (I smile at him and his face brightens- he never stays upset for long)
Sean: You should be nice to your flatmate (He switches topics rather quickly and you have to make the leap with him haha)
Sinead: We are nice, Sean. Too nice, really. Everyone just makes like there's nothing wrong when in reality, there are a lot of problems. She says she has a hard time being happy and so sometimes we try just not to upset her. It isn't good for her.
Sean: She's sad?
Sinead: So she says. She always gets upset when we try to talk to her...she makes excuses.
Sean: Sometimes I don't like to talk to people.
Sinead: But if I told you something was very, very, very important because I was getting upset and I needed to tell you something, you would listen. Right?
Sean: Right. (He says this firmly, like it's very important now haha)
Sinead: Good man. She has trouble with that though. She gets very upset if we say something that she doesn't like.
Sean: Rafferty doesn't let me pay for drinks. That makes me upset.
Sinead: Rafferty doesn't let you pay for drinks because you play the music for the pub-goers.
Sean: I don't know how to play- my fingers have a go.
Sinead: Sure, Sean. Rafferty likes that. You know how when you help I give you sweeties?
Sean: Yes. (He licks his lips like he can taste the sweets I give him and I laugh and have to compose myself)
Sinead: I do that because you've done something for me and I want to thank you.
Sean: Well he could thank me by taking my feckin money once in a while...(he kind of growled after this statement hahaha)
Sinead: Now, now. Be nice.
Sean: Right, sorry. I didn't mean to be mean. (His face softens...)
Sinead: No matter, no matter.
Sean: But your flatmate doesn't give you anything?
Sinead: Well she doesn't have to. You clean your house because you live there and you don't want to live in filth and damp, right? We have five ladies in our flat and everyone must do their job to help keep things tidy
Sean: Jesus, five?
Sinead: Haha, yes. Five. There could be six, actually but I count as two people.
Sean:I don't know...
Sinead: I pay double rent.
Sean: Oh hahahaha, I get it, I get it. (He grins, happy that he understands an abstract concept haha)
Sinead: Yes. But she doesn't like to help and she likes to complain a lot.
Sean: I complain and you don't hate me.
Sinead: I don't hate her, I just wish she would be positive sometimes. She doesn't ever say happy things and it makes the other girls sad. You don't whine and complain, do you?
Sean: Does it make you sad, Sinead?
Sinead: What, her being annoying? Sometimes. If I have a good day and she is upset or mad or sad then it brings me down and I don't like that. I like to be happy and think happy thoughts and be glad for good days.
Sean: Have a good day todayyyyyy! (He says this in a voice like someone sending their kids off to school haha)
Sinead: Well thank you. It's evening but I'll save that for tomorrow, okay?
Sean: Have a good day tomorrow too.
Sinead: I shall certainly try my very hardest, okay?
Sean: Yes.
Sinead: You are the most positive person, you know that?
Sean: What happened happened...I don't know why, it just did. My head hurts. Seamus, can I have a tablet?
Seamus: Just a moment. (He waves at the webcam to excuse himself and then stands up and walks away. Sean sticks his face what must have been milimeters away as I all I can see is his blue eyes hahaha)
Sinead: Whoa...back up a bit haha
Sean: Oh. too close? Well your flatmate needs to be positive. She needs to work hard so she can get better, okay?
Sinead: She doesn't like to work hard, she just wants to lay down and do nothing.
Sean: Isn't that why God invented week-ends?
Sinead: Hahahahahaha, I imagine so.
Sean: Haha, that was clever.
Sinead: It was (I give him a winning smile and he sticks his face up close to the webcam again haha). Very clever indeed.
Sean: You're funny, Sinead. You should tell your flatmate that youre upset with her.
Sinead: We are going to very soon...I don't think we can hold out much longer.
Sean: Tomas MacDonagh.
Sinead: What?
Sean: I think he said that in the GPO.
Sinead: What?
Sean:  The GPO. To Pearse. You like Pearse. Am I making you happy? (He looks at me so hopefully hahaha)
Sinead: Haha, yes. You're right, I do like Pearse. I like Pearse a lot. A revolutionary if there ever was one.
Sean: You should go for a walk when you get upset with her. (Switch topics haha)
Sinead: It's awfully cold outside and not exactly suitable for walking around.
Sean: Walk inside?
Sinead: Nowhere to do that in the flat.
Sean: What about in your parlour?
Sinead: She sleeps on the sofa.
Sean: She's maddening and I'm not even there!
Sinead: Hahahaha, yes.
Sean:  But I like being cheery and smiling so I'm not going to get mad.
Sinead: I wish I had your optimism haha
Sean: My head hurts. It hurts a lot.
Sinead: Aw. Where's Seamie with your tablet?
Sean: I don't know. It hurts though.
Sinead: I know it does. He'll be rummaging through the cupboards for something for you.
Sean: Yes.
Sinead: I wish I could give her a bottle of your happiness.
Sean: I wish so too. She shouldn't be sad all the time. You know they have tablets for that, don't you?
Sinead: Haha, yes I do. Supposedly she takes them. but they don't seem to be working.
Sean: When this bit (that's how he refers to his TBI) happened I was sad. My head hurt something awful. Like I'd had strong drink! (I don't think Sean has ever been drunk in his whole life haha)
Sinead: But how do you get happy? Do you take tablets?
Sean: NO! I can be happy by myself. I don't need more tablets. I take some when my head hurts but nothing else in the day.
Sinead: Okay. If you could tell her to get happy, how would you tell her?
Sean: I'd tell her that she should see a doctor and that she shouldn't whine all the time because people hate whining other people and she needs to be happier because being sad all the time is stupid and annoying. I don't like being sad. Who the feck likes being sad?
Sinead: A very good point. Very wise. I don't like being sad. I think she likes it because people give her lots of attention and help and they feel sorry for her.
Sean: I hate when people feel sorry for me. People treat me like I'm stupid but I'm not. I'm just not good at remembering.
Sinead: Pity doesn't help you, does it?
Sean: Yes it does.
Sinead: How, Sean? How does it help you?
Sean: It makes me feel like I need to do things so that people won't do it anymore.
Seamus: Here you go, Sean. Use water, this one tastes bad if you keep it on your tongue too long. (Sean gulps it down as fast as he possibly can haha)
Sean: Ach, nasty.
Sinead: I know, taking tablets is gross.
Sean: Yep. Gross. I'm going walking. You be nice, now.
Sinead: Haha I will be. I'll be calm when I we talk.
Sean: Tell her to quit being annoying and to help you. You're so busy you need a lot of help.
Sinead: Where is your coat, Sean?
Sean: Coat?
Sinead: Your gansy.
Sean: I didn't wear one.
Sinead: Seamie, lend him one, will you? He's going to catch his death out there.
Sean: No, no, no! I'm grand, I'm grand, I'm grand!
Seamus: He says he's grand.
Sinead: Well go straight home, Sean. It's raining hard outside. (I see him stick his head out the window and watch him shake his long wavy hair around like a dog). Good Lord hahaha
Sean: I'm going walking! Walking makes everything better, Sinead.
Sinead: By Seanie. Be careful and don't get sick.
Sean: I won't, I won't!
Seamus: You can't tell that man anything haha
Sinead: Amen to that.
Seamus: Sinead, don't kill your flatmate.
Sinead: Not that I'm not tempted sometimes...
Seamus: Seriously...
Sinead: I know that haha Who would Sean teach songs to?


I need to be more like Sean. Everyone needs to be more like Sean haha