{"id":347,"date":"2004-01-16T11:08:32","date_gmt":"2004-01-16T16:08:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=347"},"modified":"2012-03-18T11:28:34","modified_gmt":"2012-03-18T15:28:34","slug":"diary-friday-21","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=347","title":{"rendered":"Diary Friday"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>And here is yet another embarrassing installment of the series I call &#8220;Diary Friday&#8221;.  It is Friday, isn&#8217;t it?  I take old journal entries and post them here, word for word.  I am a glutton for punishment.<\/p>\n<p>Today&#8217;s is another import from my old blog (sorry Beth, sorry Dad) &#8211; and one of the most embarrassing things I have ever read in my life.  Hence &#8211; it is wonderful &#8220;Diary Friday&#8221; material.<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s  the first entry in the journal I kept during <b>the O&#8217;Malley trip to Ireland<\/b>, years and years ago. My parents took us all to Ireland for a month \u0085 I was 14, my youngest sister Siobhan was 4, and there are two other siblings in between. We traveled around as a family in teeny European cars, all staying in two rooms at various B&#038;Bs. It was insane. This journal is mortifyingly embarrassing to read, because I am 14 years old, in the full bloom of self-obsessed adolescence. But it is also painfully funny (Oh, and MikeR &#8211; TOTALLY by coincidence, I reference <b>Rick Springfield <\/b>in the following journal entry &#8211; HA!).<\/p>\n<p>I could not resist &#8211; I had to add a list of snarky observations at the bottom.  I could not let the ridiculous adolescent prose slide by without a comment.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<h3>April 3<\/h3>\n<p><u>Logan Airport, 10:00 pm<\/u><br \/>\nIt is raining like crazy, and it was lightning and thundering. But Anne Ross called Aer Lingus and everything is on schedule. I am psyched but I am pretending that I am cool as a cucumber. I&#8217;m going to be very adult on this trip.<\/p>\n<p>As of 10:00 pm I am sitting in a chair after going through that metal zapper machine (without a hitch, I might add) and watching all the punk white sneakers stroll by. I am crazy about white sneakers (Rick Springfield, Rod Stewart, Blackie Parrish and Darryl Hall all wear them), a contributing factor to my fondness for them. I&#8217;m pretty punk tonight with my jeans, purple coat and safety pins.<\/p>\n<p>But why am I talking about this??? My family is going to Ireland for a whole month!!! I am going to miss all of my friends incredible. Mere and Betsy and  Beth and Kate. I&#8217;ve never even been on a plane before and I am stocked up with gum.<\/p>\n<p>I went to a Good Works play last night with Mere, Betsy, and Beth. Brian Cerullo was there. OH GOD. I love those three kids so much \u0096 Mere, Betsy and Beth. We all hugged and kissed goodbye and this morning I talked to them all on the phone and said, &#8220;See ya next month.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p><u>10:15 pm<\/u><br \/>\nI am now on the plane all buckled in next to Brendan (thrrrills \u0085 he&#8217;s gonna talk the whole way). I have a window seat, nanny nanny boo boo. (Oh, how adult I&#8217;m being.)<\/p>\n<p>We have a really nice English stewardess. I like her accent. She&#8217;s talking to us. Her best friend&#8217;s name is Siobhan. <u>Imaaaaaaagine<\/u> that!<\/p>\n<p>A grease bomb just walked by.<\/p>\n<p>I have never been so frightened. We are going a trillion miles an hour. Don&#8217;t let me die. We are up SO high! I&#8217;m really scared, folks.<\/p>\n<p><u>1:00 am (6:00 Irish time)<\/u><br \/>\nWe just had dinner.<\/p>\n<p>Guess what movie they&#8217;re showing \u0096 FOUL PLAY. Is that a coincidence or what? (I am madly in love with Chevy Chase.)<\/p>\n<p><u>April 4<\/u><br \/>\n<u>County Clare<\/u><br \/>\nWatching the sunrise out of the plane windows was gorgeous. All the clouds were pink and orange and we couldn&#8217;t even see the ocean. And flying in over Ireland \u0096 oh, it was so pretty! All of the fields divided by hedges \u0096 oh, it was so wild. But I forgot to chew gum on the way down and it felt as if someone was pounding on my head with a hammer. I hurt incredibly.<\/p>\n<p>We had to stand in line at the Shannon airport and wait around. We got this tiny gold car that is so cute. We drove around those winding streets lined with tall hedges and after an hour or so we found a place to stay &#8211; McMahon&#8217;s Bed and Breakfast Place. It is in Ennistymon. The beds are so comfortable (featherbeds) and Mrs. McMahon is so nice. So are all the people here. They all wave. We unwound for an hour or so and then we went down the street to the Falls Hotel. There we found a river and beautiful waterfalls. Dad took some pictures and then we took off in the car for the Cliffs of Moher. The roads were thin and high and we could look down over the hills and thatched roofs . It was great!<\/p>\n<p>But the cliffs! They were SO incredible. I felt quite nauseous because they were so high. I only went up to this tiny stone castle but Jean, Brendan and Dad went all the way up to the top. It was SO FAR DOWN. I almost couldn&#8217;t look.<\/p>\n<p>We took a different ride home and on the way back we stopped in Kilfenora to watch an Irish football game. We stopped and we asked this girl if we had missed the whole thing. And she said in her Irish brogue, &#8220;No, we&#8217;ve got another half to go.&#8221; I like listening to them talk.<\/p>\n<p>We watched the game and it was not at all like our football. The ball was round and they dribbled and pushed and shoved. It was kind of neat.<\/p>\n<p>But I was wiped out and slept the whole way home. I went upstairs and wrote letters to Betsy, Mere, and Beth until supper. We washed up and Mrs. McMahon served us soup and lamb and homemade French fries. It was delicious. Jean loved the soup but I didn&#8217;t, so I drank some of my broth, then we secretly switched bowls. Brendan started to cry at supper. It was all very embarrassing.<\/p>\n<p>After supper we went upstairs and we took care of Siobhan while Mum and Dad went for a walk.<\/p>\n<p>I listened to my SK Pades tape and then got into my pjs. I was the only one who got into my pajamas.<\/p>\n<p>God, I am so tired. I&#8217;m going to bed.<\/p>\n<p><i>Comments on the above from my present-day self<\/i>:<br \/>\nHere are things I noticed:<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; White sneakers are &#8220;punk&#8221;, Sheila? &#8220;PUNK&#8221;? Uh &#8230; Are you sure about that? Sid Vicious is punk, okay? Putting one safety pin through the lapel of the purple coat you bought at <i>Weathervane<\/i> does not make you punk. Also, &#8220;white sneakers&#8221; were never punk. Ever.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; Additionally:  <i>Blackie Parrish<\/i>???? HAHAHA  That was the character John Stamos played on &#8220;General Hospital&#8221; and I thought I had never seen a better looking man in my life.  But I suppose the REAL appeal was that he &#8216;wore white sneakers&#8217;.  Jesus, Sheila, that is just so crazy.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; I went to the trouble to buy chewing gum to guard against ear-popping during the plane-landing. And then completely forgot to use the gum until it was too late.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; I start the entry at &#8220;10:00 pm&#8221;. I write a couple of paragraphs. Then I state &#8220;10:15 pm.&#8221; It&#8217;s not like a huge gap, like I wrote the first section at 10:00 <u>am<\/u>, and the next time I mention the time it&#8217;s 3:00 <u>pm<\/u>. Like: a lot can happen in 6 hours that would warrant an update. But I clearly had only been writing for about 15 minutes! What is the purpose of listing that &#8220;10:15 pm&#8221;? Obviously nothing earth-shattering had gone down since I had written &#8220;10:00 pm&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; I am embarrassed at how mean and annoyed I was by my little brother Brendan. Brendan was so homesick he never really got over the fact that he was in Ireland. To this day, Brendan remembers nothing about our trip. Siobhan, who was 4 years old, probably remembers more. Recently, Brendan said to me, &#8220;The only thing I remember was that I accidentally put salt on my corn flakes, and then had to eat the whole thing.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; The line &#8220;I&#8217;m really scared, folks&#8221; makes me blush with mortification. <u>Folks<\/u>? Who ya&#8217; talkin&#8217; to, Sheila?<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; &#8220;I listened to my SK Pades tape&#8221;. Now, I am not even sure what I am referring to here. SK Pades is a variety show, put on by the junior class every year at my high school. It&#8217;s meant to bond the class together so that they can then face the difficult last year. But it&#8217;s for the JUNIOR class. I was only a freshman at the time of the trip to Ireland. So &#8230; what I am gathering is that I had snuck a tape recorder into the SK Pades of <u>that <\/u>year, the class two years ahead of me, taped the whole thing, and then hauled the tape around Ireland with me, listening to it like a lunatic. Please remember, too, that this was pre-Walkman. Or, if there were Walkmans in existence, I sure didn&#8217;t have one. So when I say &#8220;I listened to my SK Pades tape&#8221; <u>what that means is <\/u>that I had a little cassette recorder, and played the damn tape for all to hear, which <u>also <\/u>means that saying &#8220;I <u>listened <\/u>to the tape&#8221; is not quite correct. What it means is &#8220;I made everybody in my room at the B&#038;B listen to the SK Pades tape with me.&#8221; I was clearly insane, and probably should have been in an institution.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>And here is yet another embarrassing installment of the series I call &#8220;Diary Friday&#8221;. It is Friday, isn&#8217;t it? I take old journal entries and post them here, word for word. I am a glutton for punishment. Today&#8217;s is another &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=347\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[5],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/347"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=347"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/347\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":51651,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/347\/revisions\/51651"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=347"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=347"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=347"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}