Traditions! Traditions!

Writing Christmas cards is a rewarding tradition - mostly for the receiver.  The writer is left to condense one year into a few sentences (if not doing the mass newsletter format) and to feel slightly guilty for not having written often (or at all) the past twelve months.  I hope this old-fashioned tradition is not replaced by online social networks and e-cards.

Too cute

I saw giant pandas at the National Zoo on Saturday. Absolutely adorable. One life goal down, probably another thousand to go.

Give them hope

Just back from seeing Milk - the new biopic of Harvey Milk starring Sean Penn. Milk was the first openly gay man elected to public office. The movie was moving, emotional, and inspiring. It is about a man who organizes the gay population to build a thriving community. They do more than rise above the local discrimination and lead the national drive for gay rights. It is a reminder about individuals who share a common goal can come together to achieve change. It happened in the 1970s, it happened in 2008, and can be replicated across the world.

"Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio there is a young gay person who all the sudden realizes that he or she is gay; knows that if their parents find out they will be tossed out of the house, their classmates will taunt the child, and the Anita Bryant's and John Briggs' are doing their part on TV. And that child has several options: staying in the closet, and suicide. And then one day that child might open the paper that says "Homosexual elected in San Francisco" and there are two new options: the option is to go to California, or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected I got a phone call and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania. And the person said "Thanks". And you've got to elect gay people, so that thousand upon thousands like that child know that there is hope for a better world; there is hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those who are blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors, the us's: without hope the us's give up. I know that you can't live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you, and you have got to give them hope."
--Harvey Milk, 1978--

For me, seeing the grassroots elements of Harvey Milk's multiple campaigns was inspiring. Milk was humble: he was the candidate being elected, but essentially it was the movement that was the candidate. You work for yourself, your famiy, your friends, and your neighbors. At the end of the day, that's who really matters.

may the merry bells keep ringing

I set out today to buy some of my Christmas gifts. In particular, I wanted to find a gift for K, with our agreed price under $20, including tax. I feel strange saying that I don't want to buy a book, but that's what I always buy. This year, I mean to be original.

At the mall, there seems to be a mass-marketing campaign afoot in suburban malls-- one designed to insist that gifts ought to be over $20. All else falls under the domain of "stocking stuffers" or the vaguely impersonal house warming gifts. So what is available in my price range? I could buy a single bottle of lotion reminiscent of a pine plantation but it seemed too impersonal. I could buy her a hat, but she just got a red one that is liable to blow away in a stiff wind. I walked through a litany of suburbia: the Limited, Banana Republic, Macy's, Nordstrom's, Anthropologie, Nordstrom's Rack, H and M, and smaller stores whose name escape me. The Apple store was packed. As it has been for months. The iPhone really is beautiful. And untouchable to someone still under contract with Verizon. Not to mention the price of the data plan.

Ultimately, I found something small- something that will travel well to MN and then to Boston.
Something under $20 that if she doesn't like, she can take it back with her gift receipt.

Or we'll start talking about a gift exchange.

Career outlook

The recent issue of Science has an article detailing the prospects of physician-scientists, aka mudphuds. It's nice to know that currently, there are positions open in academia for physician-scientists. :)

Three issues that weren't given much coverage in the article.

I think the article underestimates the recruitment phase, which I would consider the hardest sell. What's the incentive to enter an MD/PhD program in the first place? It's a long haul. Most people enter this program in their early to mid-twenties, meaning that they will be around age 30 before residency/fellowship/post-doctoral position and before a faculty position. I think there is a sense that you have to know that you want to do research, or in a more cynical view, feel that the time is helpful for matching in a competitive residency. Furthermore, there is the question of not doing this track and still entering research later on. Recruiting these talented people who want to be in academia will surely help.

Also, where is the support for people while in the program? I'm having a hard time on Goolge finding attrition rates nationally after 1981, but I think it's higher for non-MSTP programs (non-NIH funded programs). Can something be done about this?

The third issue is, once graduated, why stay in academia? Why are people moving into industry? Is it the lifestyle? Free from tenure? What about private practice? Understanding why academia is not appealing to approximately half of the MD/PhD graduates nationally may be the first step

City of Beauty

Paris was overwhelming. I wanted to do everything and see everything. D and I ended up spending hours in the Louvre, going to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, and gazing at Paris at dusk atop the Eiffel Tower. Jetting over to Paris for a weekend is still something I'd do again in a heartbeat.

What I love about dining in Europe is the experience. American chains such as Applebees are a world away from the independent restaurants that I now adore. European portions are smaller than American portions. It's rude to rush patrons out of the restaurant. And it's all about enjoying the food, wine, and company. Leisurely.

Your election as well as mine-- some musings

Election Day, especially for the absentee voter, is a bit like New Year's Eve Day. None of the real action actually happens until that evening or usually, around 10pm. Plus, some years, you wake up the next morning and wonder "I stayed awake for that?!?" Thankfully, with the exception of the MN Senate race, I went to sleep excited for the coming day.

The more I think about it, the more I really like concession speeches. Amidst the blue and red maps and Electoral College tickers, the concession speech feels like the first transition vehicle from election to elected official. In 2004, I read an article analyzing the history of concession speeches of the losing candidate, and it convinced me that this is indeed one of the great traditions of our democracy. From what I recall, the article detailed what a concession speech ought to have. First and foremost, it must acknowledge the veracity of his or her opponent's victory. Second, it must tacitly agree to hold to that outcome, as decided by the voters in a free and fair election. Furthermore, the great speeches are the gracious ones, who ignore the history of negative campaigning/slanders/outright lies that were told in favor of the moving patriotic lines. Concession speeches are about soothing the losing side and bringing them back into a larger fold. I admit, I was a fan of Sen. Hillary Clinton's concession speech when I finally watched it days after Obama had clinched enough primary and superdelegate votes. Like many others, I was pleased with Sen. John McCain's speech. It showed a part of the McCain that I admired in 2000. He recognized the magnitude and historical significance of the moment for African-Americans (and really, all Americans in my mind), even as he noted the personal significance for President-elect Obama and his recently deceased grandmother.

On a personal note, EA, the little sister I never had, earned her first "I voted" sticker. :)

One of the network stations had someone reciting part of MLK's "I have a dream" speech. With this in mind, I stand in awe of the multicultural, multi-generational photo shot at Grant Park of Obama and Biden's extended families. In particular, Sasha Obama and Biden's grandkids standing next to each other, smiling and waving to the crowd. That they might think nothing of it and can grin in front of thousands of people, many of whom have tears in their eyes,
is amazing.

Twins versus Yankees

The most recent issue of the New Yorker describes the future of Goldman Sachs.

It would no longer be your father’s Goldman, the one your mother dreamed that you’d work for, even if she said she didn’t. Instead, it would be a Goldman that might give your mother a free toaster in exchange for her opening a checking account. This was a shocking surrender—the end of Wall Street, as some would have it, and the beginning of who knows what. It was as if the Yankees had announced that they were becoming the Twins.

I'm too much of a Minnesotan to let this quote rest in online archives without a comment. The hierarchy has been shaken. The salary game has become the crystal ball for awarding prestige and winners in April. But at least in team batting averages:

Twins - .279
Yankees - .271

Maybe Wall Street could learn something from Main Street. Work hard, play the fundamentals, and don't choke in the end.

Where everyone is a journalist.

Giving full credit to BB, who took these photos. We're actually sitting further back in the first tier of seats, behind the media and off to the right. I took some photos with my camera phone but have no free way to upload them onto my computer.

The moment, the time

Attending an Obama rally is like attending a rock concert. Not for nothing is U2’s “City of Blinding Lights” and “Beautiful Day” blared as a prelude. Like U2's music, Obama's rallies make you understand that there are problems in the world, but nothing we can't understand and face. I attended Obama’s rally in Baltimore for the Chesapeake Bay primaries, but last night’s rally in St. Paul completely eclipsed my expectations. I stood in line next to my dad, who couldn’t get over the mixture of old and young, black and white and Hispanic. As the line encircle Rice Park, the Landmark Center, and all the way to the NPR building, people celebrated. Everyone had these excited looks, knowing that they could say for future generations that they were there to see this. In line, we updated each other on the superdelegate count, laughing if someone offered information that was an hour old, only to be gently corrected by someone with more recent information. As we edged closer, we saw umbrellas and strollers, discarded before entering the arena. CNN estimated a crowd of 17,000 indoors with another 15,000 standing outside. I felt lucky to be in the arena at all.

What was amazing was the tone of Obama's thundering speech. As he spoke, I heard someone who was not just running for the presidency, but also now running the party as its de facto leader.

But what you don't deserve is another election that's governed by fear, and innuendo, and division. What you won't hear from this campaign or this party is the kind of politics that uses religion as a wedge and patriotism as a bludgeon...

(APPLAUSE)

What you won't see from this campaign or this party is a politics that sees our opponents not as competitors to challenge, but enemies to polarize, because we may call ourselves Democrats and Republicans, but we are Americans first. We are always Americans first.

Above all, Obama sounded gracious last night. Gracious toward Sen. Hilary Rodham Clinton and her noble, but technically still-continuing campaign. Gracious toward Sen. John McCain and his years of public service while subtly highlighting the differences. Above all, and what I appreciated the most, was Obama's graciousness toward the American people. Unlike Clinton's speech, whose points began with what "I feel," "I met," "I see," or "I want," Obama's speech carried what we must do. He spoke to the people of Minnesota and citizens of America without patronizing our intelligence that surprise! we need a politician who has been paying attention. We have a politician who is looking ahead to long-term solutions.

I sent a text message to a number of my friends who are Obama supporters, letting them know I was at the rally. One friend wished me a good time. Another assured me that had I missed this opportunity, there would be hell to pay. My favorite?

“That’s awesome. History my dear."

Forget cynicism

Thomas Friedman's Mother's Day column is sweet and sentimental. Here is an excerpt:

My mom’s other big influence on me you can read between the lines of virtually every column — and that is a sense of optimism. She was the most uncynical person in the world. I don’t recall her ever uttering a word of cynicism. She was not naïve. She had taken her knocks. But every time life knocked her down, she got up, dusted herself off and kept on marching forward, motivated by the saying that pessimists are usually right, optimists are usually wrong, but most great changes were made by optimists.

I like the last sentence. Happy Mother's Day.

Not just a pile of change

Caroline Kennedy's op-ed piece in the NY Times had me thinking. Much has been said about Obama's ability to unify, to hope, and to inspire. The word "hope" has been tossed around campaigns now as well as 8 years ago. I'll leave that word to the pundits and those that epitomize the word for themselves. I've already grown tired of the word "change." To me, it just symbolizes a difference and a break from our lame-duck president. What is intriguing is the word "inspire." I spent some time trying to think of any politician, here or around the world, that fits that description. Perhaps Nelson Mandela, one of my political heroes.

This brings me to a larger question. Does our vote constitute an endorsement of the candidate for who he or she is as a person, what he or she stands for, or the issues that he or she supports? [Note that I'm excited to be able to say "he or she."]

I know that I tend to vote on issues, a stance problematic in that I often don't agree with a candidate on all issues. Being far too young to remember the Kennedy era, I have grown up with an innate cynicism and suspicion of politics and politicians. For me, my mistrust of politicians extends deeper than a belief that federal politics are rooted in partisanship and special interests. I haven't felt as if my trust has been broken because I've never felt as if by voting, I've placed my trust in the candidate. Rather, I vote because I feel it's my meager opportunity to participate and by doing so, I take a stand on issues, if not the candidate. Interestingly, as Kennedy writes,

There is a generation coming of age that is hopeful, hard-working, innovative and imaginative. But too many of them are also hopeless, defeated and disengaged.

With this in mind, it seems a misnomer to describe the candidates as candidates for change, candidates of change, or candidates that have changed so many times that we don't know their true standing. It seems as if we are looking at candidates that operate under different ideologies rather than merely policy and personality differences. We've swung around to who defines a leader, rather than who merely possesses leadership. And that is a very exciting promise.

It's what we used to dream about

Rent is ending its Broadway run on June 1, according to the New York Times. Forgive my sentimental thoughts as I remember how I've grown up as the musical grew into a long-running hit. (Cliche: I watched the show on the eve of the millennium and thought about the future..... now with its close, I'm thinking about the past.....)

1999. At sixteen, I admit that I hadn't really thought about homelessness, sexuality, drugs, and premature mortality before the show and immediately after, I had few experiences in which to thoroughly understand those topics. The strains of optimism, idealism, and friendship that run through the lyrics were what caught my ear and to which I could relate.

2001. The musical is popular in school, and I'm glad that I've seen the show. Talk about wanting to fit in.....

2004. In college I'm starting to have a greater understanding of the issues of which I was unsure how to approach in high school. My volunteer experiences are shaping me and I'm glad that they did. However, I'm worrying that I'm trading in my idealism as I work towards climbing the career ladder. Rent also made excellent music for long trips.

2008. Being a recent college graduate, I look around at my friends and I can see who is pursuing an idealistic role in the world, who makes time for friendship and love, and who isn't. Who is like Benny and who is like Angel. I know I'm just as guilty as the next person about getting caught up in materialism and my own little world. Maybe just a reminder about those missed sunsets.... or another road trip.

plugged into the wall

Yesterday, I had a fantastic argument over a long-standing point. I lack internet in my apartment and for nearing five months, I have refused to discuss with Comcast or Verizon the merits of receiving it. By now, it's become more than an esoteric or financial point. It's become an experiment of sorts. Is it possible to have a good life without internet? For most of my friends (I'll call them of the young professional age), high speed internet at home is a basic need, right up there with food, and electricity.

The teasing cajolery always follows a similar course: Has my life been barer without internet? What do I do at night? Isn't it difficult to stay in contact with people? In essence, how do I live?

My day job keeps me away from a computer and doesn't permit me to use the internet for most of the day. I've condensed my online time to a mere 30-60 minutes per day. The initial concept was simple: make a list and stick to the essentials. I would make a list of tasks to complete on my heart-shaped post-it notes and check them off, one by one.

Last year, the vast majority of my news came from online sources. Now, I have to wait until I'm outside my apartment to read these sources or pick up the paper edition. All this of course competes with my email correspondence and blog time. Certainly, I spend less time on this blog. I also spend less time playing sudoku or reading blogs and personal networking websites. I haven't stayed up half the note browsing YouTube and Wikipedia, but what's the problem with that? Lacking the internet at home already feels like a throwback to a different era.

Last minute invitations and directions via email are not likely to be received in time. Personal correspondence has also changed. Succinctly, what would I do without a cell phone? When I first settled without internet, I called people very frequently. What was once spoken on instant messenger or other chat programs was relegated to emails or actual phone calls. In many ways, that's the nicest part. I've never been in the habit of doing snail mail, but somehow, actual emails or long phone conversations are more satisfying.

Do I accomplish more around my apartment without the internet? Yes. I can't check the weather online or look up driving directions. For these, I rely on more old-fashioned sources: paper maps, the TV, or simply looking outside the window. I cook more. I clean. I spend time with other people (although I would be doing that even with internet). I admit, I'm away from my apartment more than I may be if I had the internet. Mostly, it's due to the people who are less likely to visit since they can't check their email in my humble abode.

Have I survived this year without internet without a significant drop in comfort? Yes.
Am I glad that I did this? Yes.
Will I get internet next year? Yes.

On writing

I had a nice opportunity to step back and appreciate the merits of writing on Wednesday. In my creative writing class, we focused on humorous writing. Although our Dave Sedaris audio clip and story fell short, we focused on humorous events during the holidays. An upbeat way to end the class.

Plus, in closing, A included a great excerpt from "Letters to a Young Poet," by Ranier Maria Rilke. In particular, these words struck me for their beauty in themselves. Lately, it's been easy to immerse myself in technical writing and the elements of clarity, brevity, and content. This excerpt reminded me of the beauties of writing for one's self. Rilke suggests that this may be a tortuous path in itself. That being said, it's a good lesson for any field that one chooses, not just writing.

Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity. . . .

. . . For the creator must be a world for himself and must find everything in himself and in Nature, to whom his whole life is devoted.

Science and Politics

Coming over to Ireland, I read about Northern Ireland and the proposed power-sharing agreement between the DUP and Sinn Fein. It seemed plausible yet ridden with potential roadblocks and dependent on "if this, then that" actions. In light of the St. Andrews Agreement, people seem encouraged that the Belfast Agreement will finally reach its goals. The recent news about Ian Paisley and the DUP is a necessary step before March.

It seems to be when I least expect it that I hear people's thoughts on Northern Ireland, the Republic, and the St. Andrews Agreement. It might be over drinks or just a conversation that centers around science and moves to politics and back to science. Yet maybe that's why it is more interesting nonetheless. All comments are paraphrased from memory:

• We are one island, we should just be united. Great Britain is its own entity. But I don't really care about politics.
• Growing up the Troubles were going on. But it never really affected the Republic. You knew it was occurring it and accepted it.
  
• The local IRA was in control (esp rural areas) and had more power than the local police. Now the local police is having more power.
• You can barely tell when you cross the border. Signs may look different. But I doubt that we'll be united, but that may not be so important. What is important is to have more connections built between the North and the South.
  
• Clinton is a hero in Ireland.
  

I have so many questions for the Mitchells up in the North. Yet I find myself questioning their experiences- have you spoken with a diverse population? Experiences at a debate, were these representative of the majority or just those who are passionate about the issue? Acts of violence? Where? Who is involved? Maybe it's my background of having experimental controls and understanding parameters of a "result" but I feel like I need more information.

Yet I also acknowledge that my experiences have been limited, particularly with whom I have talked about "the Troubles." I want to keep listening to others' opinions. Not sure where it will lead, but it should be interesting to watch the news unfold in the next few months.

Can the social model survive?

The Working Time Directive debate may finally come to a head in the European Union. Much of Europe, particularly France, wants Great Britain to opt-in to the directive, rather than its current opt-out position. The UK is the most influential country in Europe to not limit its work week to 48 hours as the WTD states.

I realize that Europe has a different work ethic and lifestyle than the United States. Yet it appears to be so much of the politics between the European nations that pushes this debate. Is it little wonder that it is France, who has the 35 hour work week, is pushing to bring the UK into the WTD? The British work more than the French and less than the Italian, according to the IHT article. Interesting? Yes.

Moreover, a representative at European Reform Centre said that the workaholics in business and the financial sector will continue to work overtime, regardless of salary. Such legislation is designed to protect workers for their health and to protect those who could be used for their labor and paid little. That may be true, but what about the people who want to work more hours in order to earn more money? It limits the poor as to how many hours they are able to work a week and must survive on it. These are the people who are more likely to be on hourly wages rather than yearly salaries as the business people will be. Salaries allow more flexibilty and security as job attendance is not tied to the limited amount of money available. If a family emergency occurs, then the business people often have the resources to take days off, knowing that money will arrive home and work can be done early or immediately after return. Hourly wages allow less flexibility for the workers who need the money from each hour that he or she works. Such policies need revision and more careful analysis.

Reminds me of home

"Suburbia is where the developer bulldozes out the trees, then names the streets after them."
--Bill Vaughan--

One more day up in the canyon

"We are here to add what we can to life, not to get what we can from it." -William Osler-

A friend recently said that one of the qualities he most admired was the ability to live life to the fullest. I was thinking about that this afternoon, when I talked with T. T couldn't be more exuberant than when praising our creative writing class. He is 44 but looks to be 30. I consider him as an author and romantic at heart. He served in the police force for 13 years before succumbing to a crack cocaine addiction. He resigned and worked in a warehouse in order to make ends meet and continue to feed his addiction. Now, he's in an upward swing and in love once again. T regaled me with tales of his 3 year old granddaughter and how his relationship with his son has changed since he has come out of rehab. In a few months, he hopes to rejoin his old job and get married to his fiancee.

Walking back down Eager Street today reminded me of Mabija street. It's a typical Charm City street where people congregate on the front steps and stare at the racially different people who walk by. There are chain-link fences and brick rowhouses with brightly painted window frames. Paint is falling off the cheap liquor store on the corner. You can kick the empty metallic bags that once held individual servings of potato chips (regular and sour cream and onion, normally). More trash and other gristle lies on the sidewalks. The bricks are uneven, and I shudder to think of the effects on an auto's shocks. When I drive by this area at night, I'm always surprised to see the number of people who are just standing or sitting. Such constant inactivity is not necessarily off-putting, just unnerving. It's a different world.

It's not to say that I'm not extremely content right now. On the contrary, I am. I sincerely enjoy my somewhat surreal state. Today, I revisited, albeit briefly, Arisotelian ethics and the principle of virtue. I find inspiration in a statue in an institution that promises some of the best tertiary care in the world. In class, I find myself listening more than I talk. Education comes in the form of lectures, planned conferences, and the internet. It's a sheltered world, one that has more good than bad.

Many have said that they love to make a difference in the life of a child. I concur. Yet, today, out of my bubble, I felt as if I've added something to the world in the life of an adult. And this seemed more real to me than the rest of my day.

Five and a half weeks

Coming to Ireland, I set out to blog my experiences. For being a capitalistic meritocracy like the United States, Ireland does have its quirks that I've been adjusting to since I've arrived.

Irish time. It's not just a newspaper and it's not to the same extent as Italy or South Africa. Classes start at ten past the hour and if you are meeting a group of friends at the pub, expect them to arrive within a ninety minute window. Accordingly, it is smart to know if one person will arrive somewhat on time. Otherwise, I walk around the block a few times. I've had a taxi ride that gave me flashbacks of NYC cabbies and buses that drop me off with a few minutes before my train was to depart. Everything gets done in its own time. That's what the Irish tell me, I tell myself, and hope that Irish time won't fail me.

Food and drink. It doesn't bother me to go shopping more frequently for groceries, though I often wish that my fridge was larger. I continually tell myself that having a dishwasher is ample compensation. However, individual college students had this size fridge in their dorm rooms for one or two people. Not four. My housemates and I make it work, though it's the least ideal part of my townhouse. The Saturday market is fabulous for organic vegetables, hot curries (when I don't feel like cooking a hot lunch), and browsing homemade crafts. If only I could afford to buy more organic products....

Beverages really should have their own paragraph. With hour breaks between many of my lectures, my classmates and I will go have a cup of tea. Or lunch. Multiple times. The wet-cold weather is chilling, though hot tea or a pint does help. The first couple of weeks, my classmates and I were out at College Bar or City Centre for a pint (or more). Unfortunately, work is piling up and I'm discovering that Ireland is an expensive place to live. Pubs are great- cannot not say enough about the atmosphere to sit around and get to know people. (I've also gone out for coffee and dinner, so please don't think I only go drinking. There is no way I could ever outdrink the Irish.)

Having gotten back from my orientation trip in Dublin this past weekend, I've been thinking a lot more about how ingrained the American culture is in me. I need my time to talk with my American friends about arrival and adjustment experiences. We laugh about the cultural differences and slang. Yet I find that it's rather tiring to find out that there's still more slang that I don't know. Sometimes I can understand the general meaning, other times, I am worried that I dont' know and have to ask. Today I learned that calling someone a legend is not comparing him or her to Paul Bunyan or the Beatles. Rather, that person is brilliant (caution, not in the genius sense.) Easy enough. Until I come across the phrase "I'm chuffed." No context there. (It has a positive connotation.)

References to old TV shows go over my head and I only know the American TV shows. The other Mitchells and I were in the live studio audience at the Ryan Tubridy Show (similar to the Conan O'Brian show). I ended up telling only Derek that I was going to attend since I didn't realize it was a show that others watched. It was a good time- complete with the guest appearance of the Hoff. Yes, I was seen on television in the audience. The show is broadcast on one of the Irish TV networks, RTE.

I definitely miss the familiarity of my life at Kenyon. I miss having someone cook my meals and being able to walk across campus and recognizing the majority of people that I meet. That's not to say that I'm not having a brilliant time in Galway. It's just that sometimes I wish I knew more people. My classmates are my social network. Reminds me of Kenyon in that sense. However, I have my own place now and have more time to myself. More relaxing in general.

Don't get me wrong. I've found so many of the Irish students and people that I've met to be generous, friendly, and possess a good sense of humor. That sense of humor might be dark or sarcastic, but it is rarely malicious. The idea of buying rounds at pubs is so natural. That is one thing that I wish to improve throughout the year. Buying rounds without being rude or unaware. They don't say much about themselves but are nonetheless curious about others.

It's exciting to know the other Mitchells around Ireland. They will come visit me and I will visit them. Also, it is just good to know others on this island. I do think of Ireland as an island. Probably because I see the ocean every day.

Yes, I have seen Martin Sheen walking along the Concourse on his way to class at NUI Galway. No, I haven't talked with him.

Following Twins baseball isn't the same as being in the States, much less in Minnesota.