Category Archives: Randall

Othello at The Abbey Theatre and Forgiveness

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Last night, we all went to see Othello at The Abbey Theatre, Ireland’s national playhouse. The stage was minimal and beautiful. The actors were convincing. I thought that the lead, Othello, portrayed Shakespeare’s character in a compelling way. Before the play, we had a nice dinner. Delicious food and great view of Trinity College Dublin just across the street. At dinner, I began thinking about how we were headed a see a play at Ireland’s national theatre that was written by an Englishman and performed for centuries all over the world. I thought about how that might be hard for the Irish, pulling in the British for their own entertainment—another look to the colonizer. I posed the question to others in the class. We talked about how the play was taking the place of a prominent Irish performance and how well…Shakespeare is Shakespeare.

Later, I began thinking about our discussion in class about forgiveness. This word carries so much weight. It normally only exists because of hurt projected on others. We ask forgiveness when we hurt someone, often someone we care about. We receive forgiveness despite whatever action we committed out of selfishness or pride. I think about how the picture of British culture being interspersed with Irish culture. Maybe this paints a picture of national forgiveness, or at least moves in that direction. We talked in class about how forgiveness allows us to move forward. Un-forgiveness only hinders progress.

After the play a few of us walked around Temple Bar, a vibrant district just south of the Liffey. We met a lot of people—some American, some Irish, and some British. We met a few local Dubliners, born and raised in and around the city—Joel, Andy, and a couple of Pauls. I met a Brit in the bathroom, we chatted, and I walked out to meet the other people he was with. I started thinking about how diverse Dublin is. For good or bad, it seems like an easy and attractive place for Europeans from nearby countries to visit. And Americans, obviously, love Ireland. The global mindset of people in Dublin gives me hope that we can both forgive and be forgiven—personally, culturally, and nationally.

 

The Abbey                The Palace

Howth—Sailboats and Seafood

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Today, we travelled to Howth. It is a coastal city, mostly surrounded by water. It’s not quite an island. Howth is beautiful. Our goal for our journey was to hike along the cliffs along the east coast of the peninsula and eventually end up at the summit. The views were incredible, hard to take in and process. At the summit, we had lunch at a place called Gaffney’s Summit Inn. The seafood was fresh, and the service was exceptional. There’s nothing like reward for a bit of hard work. Our hike wasn’t easy. It seems that people from all over walk along the trail and dine at the pub. Even our server appeared to be from somewhere else in Europe. This little coastal town must attract and entertain tourists year-round. The scenery, views, and climate (at least as we experienced it today) create a welcoming atmosphere, constructing an interesting and diverse place. Howth is a place of destination. It attracts hikers, academics, lovers, and the like. As hunger began to set in, the Summit Inn became an even more attractive destination.

As we finished up lunch and headed down to sea-level, we saw beautiful houses and freshly manicured lawns and shrubbery. Eventually, we found the water’s edge and all sat staring out into the Irish Sea. When we first arrived to the cliffs, I noticed the sailboats harbored in the middle of town. Now, after a long walk and satisfying meal, I contemplate the uses of these boats and the lives of their captains. Howth is a place of occupation. We walked around where the boats were docked, passing piles of empty sea nets and crab cages. I wonder about the day’s catch. Did the day yield a successful bounty or did the fishers return empty-handed and disheartened? The budding greenery encroaching on the sailboats creates an interesting visual representation of the relationship between the natural and the human.

 

Summit Inn—Howth

 

Sailboats in Howth

 

Office Space

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My office is where I prepare for teaching and taking classes. I spend most days before class reading over materials and most afternoons being available to meet with students about their writing. I moved into this office last semester with some apprehension. I feared the move from Langdale Hall to 25 Park Place. I expected to feel uncomfortable. My office is a shared office space—one that I share with five other people. I feared the close quarters of working relationships. But I’ve found that the people I’ve seen in my office have only enriched my experience as a teacher and student.

I’ve talked with one colleague about his experience taking comprehensive exams and with another about his classes in literary theory. Although I was hesitant at first about sharing a space with other Graduate Teaching Assistants, I’ve found that the professional relationships have been valuable and significant to my educational experience. This space has become a safe space for me—one that I enjoy in solitude and with other like-minded academics. It’s a quiet and calming space, especially with the lights turned low.

On long days, I spend time after classes relaxing and unwinding in the space of my office. Sometimes I put on some soft music and sit back in my chair with my eyes closed; other times, I dive directly into the next project, paper, or teaching plan. This space provided me with somewhere away from home that I can be productive, but it also nurtures a lifestyle of intentional and personal restoration.

Home

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My wife and I live in a house just south of Atlanta Station. It’s in a neighborhood called Home Park. We’ve been here for almost three years. The street stays pretty quiet. Although some use it as a cut-through, traffic is typically moderate. Cars line the street, causing some congestion—some cars have to pull to the side to allow others to pass. House all around us are set up as roommate situations—Georgia Tech students and young professionals. We live in and around so much liveliness but have had a calm and enjoyable experience.

My wife loves to decorate, and I let her take the reigns on these endeavors. That’s a good thing, because our home is beautiful. A typical night you might find us staying in, cooking dinner, and watching something relaxing on TV (for her—some show about house renovations, for me—probably baseball). Other nights, we might go out for dinner and come back early to our home. Although we feel so comfortable here, it’s nice to get out to the nearby restaurants.

I love to sit on our front porch. From here, I can hear neighbors watching games or having small parties—laughing and cheering and talking. I watch the passersby drive past our home, often too fast, and normally give a small gesture—a nod or wave. Being outside on the porch at night is one of my favorite times. It allows me to relax and recharge and breath in the city that we live in, around, and under. I can look up and see buildings touching the sky—Wells Fargo, office buildings. I can look to the south and see the neons of the Coca-Cola factory and to the north and see the neons of the movie theatre at Atlantic Station.

We’ve loved being here, in this house, for the past three years. It has been meaningful for my wife and me. We have celebrated two wedding anniversaries, one graduation from a master’s program, two acceptances into other graduate programs, new jobs, and new friends in this house. Soon, we will have to move on. Our home has been put on the real estate market to be sold by our landlord. Next month, we will move. We will begin to build the same feeling of home in another rental property not far away. With time, we will feel a similar calm, ease, and peace that we’ve felt here.