You're my best friend

Ursula and the Tiger

Ursula has been staying with me for the past week, playing her viola da gamba for my final film project at school. She'd never been to Ireland before, so it's all been very exciting, like it always is when you go to a new country for the first time.

"What's this Celtic Tiger people keep mentioning?" she asks me, after we overhear someone else's conversation in a bar.

Hmm. The Celtic Tiger, how can I explain it? I'm not entirely sure what it is, really, except that it was to do with people suddenly getting rich and quickly building lots of apartment blocks. Also, wasn't it called the 'Tiger' after a big tiger that escaped from a zoo in China around the same time? Or was that Japan? Either way, I go on about all this for a while, and even manage to slip in the words 'economic' and 'boom', but Ursula just nods and shrugs.

"Okay," she says. "I just thought maybe it was a football team."

Digitally editing photographs

Someone said to me recently "Well, you're obviously pretty good with Photoshop". Which sounds like it should be a nice compliment, but he said that word, Photoshop, in such a sneery way that it was like he'd discovered my dirty secret — that I like to digitally edit my pictures to get the best out of them.

Let's get something straight: Photoshop is just a digital darkroom. It's not like you push one button that says "make my photo better" and that's it — there's actually some work involved in it, too. On the other hand, this work doesn't require an actual darkroom or an education in photography or a range of expensive lenses — and it doesn't even require Photoshop, either. There are free photo-editing applications available to download online, like The Gimp.

Personally, I'm a prude and I can't bring myself to use anything called "Gimp", but I've heard it's pretty good and not that dissimilar from the ridiculously expensive Photoshop. So now you can get the best out of your pictures, too.

Above is an image I've been working on for a film we're making at school. I'm trying to make it look more like an illustration by highlighting the actor's face, darkening the edges of the frame, and desaturating all the colour except the red in his costume. You can see the original here.

To the Left of the Midwest

I want to make another short film one day, on the road in the American Deep South. I know... everybody wants to make an American Deep South road-trip movie. That's the whole point of cinema, isn't it?

Jenna laughs. My script, she says, is less 'Deep South' and more 'to the left of the Midwest'. She's from Oregon and finds it funny that I'm writing about somewhere I've never actually been.

Jenna! Does she think Shakespeare ever actually went to Venice?!

She just laughs harder — I'm comparing myself to Shakespeare again. Then she finishes her coffee, takes my pen, and draws a map of America on a paper napkin.

Important work

I'll be finishing my Masters degree at the end of this month — essays to write and an exam to revise for — which is why I spent the entire afternoon changing the colour of my blog.

I dunno, that blue was just so blonky, somehow. I know I should be studying, but I really wasn't able to get started until my blog looked less like a blog and more like... a box of chocolates.

God, I'm not even sure if I like it.

The Weekend Picture

I like this shot because it just looks like a nice, peaceful residential street — but if you've ever been there you'll recognise it as a Nazi concentration camp. Auschwitz was built at the early stages of the holocaust, when the Nazis were still making some attempt to cover up what they were doing, by planting tall trees and putting up red-brick buildings: they called it a "work camp".

I went there a couple of years ago with my friend Eavan. Inside, past the gas chambers and torture rooms, one space was filled to the ceiling with human hair, another with children's shoes. You could see that some of the shoes used to be red, or had been decorated with bows. Eavan said it was strange to think that once upon a time a little kid chose those shoes, pointing at them through a shop window.

I just like going along with everything everybody says

There was a Chinese man in the queue ahead of me at the driving theory centre today, holding up his identification as the receptionist scrutinises his passport photo.

"Is this really you?" she asks him, dubiously.

"Er... yes?" he replies, not sure what else to say. He takes his glasses off and stands there while she glances uncertainly from his passport to his face, until eventually she relents and lets him through to take his test.

"It's just that they all look the same, don't they?" she confides in me, sighing.

I wonder if they do. If they did, then surely she wouldn't have questioned his passport photo in the first place — whether it was really him or whether it was his identical mate, desperate to be a Dublin taxi driver. But I don't say anything; just give her a conspiratorial little smile as if to say that I understand exactly what she means, and she waves me on through to the little booth.

The test is relatively easy, but when I come out the man behind the desk checks my results and grimaces.

"Did you actually study the CD for this then, Annie?" he asks, shaking his head regretfully.

He is bluffing, I know it. Of course I studied the CD — I have two essays to write and I will procrastinate in any way that I can. I've been doing nothing but memorising bloody road signs and stopping distances for the last day and a half. I reckon I probably got 39 questions right and the one I got wrong was the one about a "clutch" — whatever that is. But this is his joke and I'm not going to ruin it for him.

"Yes... yes, I did study the CD," I stutter, confused, letting the blood drain from my face.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you... it's a good job you did, because you passed!" he exclaims, breaking out into a chuckle.

I let out my breath in relief, put a hand over my chest, and am vaguely impressed by my own acting skills. Then I look at my results. I got 39 questions right and the one I got wrong was something about a "clutch" — whatever that is. But this was the easy bit; the hard bit, I suppose, is actually learning how to drive a car.

A wild but unfortunate car chase, involving a speeding Mitsubishi and a trail of cops

The thing I was most embarrassed about when I lived in Reykjavik (besides being a foreigner, I mean, which was just generally embarrassing) was that I didn't drive. In Iceland, it's compulsory to learn how to handle a jeep by the time you're twelve years old: only alcoholics, the handicapped, and foreigners take the bus.

"You can't drive?" people would ask, incredulous.

"Erm... I don't have a license," I'd reply, vaguely, averting my eyes and looking sadly out of the window at the traffic down below. This was a relief to the Icelanders, who then presumed I'd lost my license in a wild but unfortunate car chase, involving a speeding Mitsubishi and a trail of cops.

The truth is, I just never learnt. I had some lessons when I was in college but eventually realised that I preferred spending all my time and money in the pub to actually learning a valuable life-skill, and so I never really "got into it". What else can I say?

Well, last week I was turned down for a job because of it. Tomorrow: I take my theory test.

How much do you know about Iceland?

Did you visit Reykjavik back in the nineties and now feel you're the authority on the subject? Or maybe you worked there for a few years and have been living off the cool points this earned you ever since? If you love Iceland, or even if you're a genuine Icelander with nothing better to do, take this quiz and find out: How much do you really know about Iceland?

What do Icelanders like to do on Sunday afternoons?
A) Go walking in the nature
B) Hang out in downtown Reykjavik with their friends
C) Watch DVDs with the curtains closed

Why does Coca-Cola taste better in Iceland than other countries?
A) It's made with pure Icelandic water
B) It has more sugar in it
C) It doesn't

What is the Icelandic word for 'Please'?
A) Vinsamlegast
B) Takk
C) There isn't one

What do Icelanders like to eat?
A) Lots of seafood — Iceland is an island, after all
B) Fresh vegetables homegrown in geothermal greenhouses
C) French fries with "cocktail" sauce

Why are Icelanders more attractive than most other people?
A) They are all blonde and blue-eyed
B) They breathe fresh air and drink clean water
C) They are in-bred

How do Icelanders greet each other?
A) With a kiss on both cheeks
B) They smile and say hello
C) They don't

How many Icelanders can you fit in a Mini?
A) Two in the front, three in the back
B) The entire population, it's only small
C) None — Icelanders will only be seen in Jeeps

CLUE: The answer to everything is (C).

The Weekend Picture

This is my nephew and niece in Galway, outside a house that my brother is building. Right before I took this shot my nephew looked at me and exclaimed, "I like you!", in his surprised little toddler voice, which filled my heart with joy. Because the last thing he'd said about me was "I don't want Daddy's sister to huggle me!". I think he is warming to me.

A New Arrival

Bjarni came home from the hospital with a camera today. Did I say hospital? I meant 'work'. But he may as well have brought it home from the hospital the way he gently handed it to me so I could have a go cradling it in my arms. It's a Canon HV30 and it's just beautiful.

However. Apparently I'm not allowed to touch it again until I've read the manual. God. Bjarni loves that kind of crap, learning how things work etc. I'd rather switch it to the automatic setting and go. I mean, that's what we'd be doing with it if it was a real baby. Right?

Stuff White People Like

Every so often I stumble across a website that makes me think, "Hey! How come I never saw this before? I thought I had finished the internet!" and then I quickly subscribe to it because if there's one thing I need more of it's wasting my life away reading stuff online. My latest find is Stuff White People Like and every post just makes me cringe out loud. Because it all seems to have been written about me. Some selected highlights:

Bad memories of high school
"Virtually every white person you meet was a nerd in a high school — it it is how they were able to get into a good arts program and law school. As such, their memories of high school are painful, but not tragic since they were able to eventually find success in the real world."

Dinner parties
"At the most basic level, these simple gatherings involve 3-6 couples getting together at a single house or apartment, having dinner and talking for 5-6 hours. Though it might seem basic these events are some of the most stressful situations in all of white culture."

Music piracy
"White people have always been renowned for having ridiculously large music collections. So when file sharing gave white people a chance to acquire all the music they ever wanted, it felt as though it was an earned right and not a privilege."

Hating corporations
"White people love nothing more than explaining to you how Wal*Mart, McDonalds, Microsoft, Halliburton are destroying the Earth’s culture and resources... When engaging in a conversation about corporate evils it is important to NEVER, EVER mention Apple Computers, Target or Ikea. White people prefer to hate corporations that don’t make stuff that they like."

Oh God, I really like this blog. I wonder if they've ever posted about white people liking Stuff White People Like? I'm afraid to look.