Saturday, August 25, 2012

Cruinniú Breá (Verison Amháin)

Dea-tráthnóna, gach duine!

In my first post, I promised to tell more about myself. So...

I was born on New Year's Day of 1998. I am considered a nerd (which I am perfectly fine with :D ), and sometimes overly dramatic. I have been in America for about a week, and I was sent off by Máthair after she learned something... awful.

Three weeks ago, I was up in my bedroom, back home. "An féidir leat teacht síos anseo, Breá?"

"Sea, mam," I yelled downstairs. Máthair was at the kitchen table, looking very depressed. "Cad atá cearr, Máthair?" I asked cautiously.

Máthair let out a long sigh. "Ná glaoch orm 'mháthair.'" She says.

Before I can ask why, Máthair turns grey and mutters, "Nach bhfuil tú mo iníon."

"Cad é? Tá mé!" I exclaimed, hoping she was playing some cruel joke. How could the woman I have called my mam for so long not be?! But Máthair just shakes her head.

"No, nach bhfuil tú." She says. "Bhí tú athraigh bhealach sa bharda plandlainne."

This didn't make any sense. Switched???

"Oh," is all I can think to say. On my way back upstairs, I feel hot and dizzy. For the next two weeks, Máthair made arrangements for me to go to the U.S. with Eagon Tate, who's aunt (Mrs. Westenra) is my godmother.

As I packed, every day I wondered what my real parents were like. Did they ever notice their real daughter was taken home with another couple? While all this was happening, Athair tried to convince me that this might not be so bad. "Is féidir leat Skype i gcónaí nó litreacha a scríobh," he'd say.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. I sometimes dream about my birth parents, what they might be like.

Now, more positive things about me!

My favorite food is Athair's breakfast blaa (pronounced blah), which he filled with scrambled eggs, sausage, and sometimes potatoes. My favorite thing to do it my free time is to play chess with Eagon, Mrs. Westenra, or sometimes even Gillian. And for some reason, I cannot STAND being around anything that has dots. Mr. Westenra jokes that this is a 'serious biological problem.'


Friday, August 24, 2012

Istra Istrinskii and Rachel Morris

Dia duit ar an domhan agus gach duine a léamh mo bhlag!

Okay, surely you guys remember Istra and Rachel from this post? It's alright if you don't ! ;)

Anyways, I'm in charge of teaching Rachel (who's from 1918 Brooklyn) how to use modern technology.

"Okay, so listen. Now, you click the button on the right. See?" I explained calmly.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Button?" She shakes her her head. "There are no buttons!"

"Yes there are. There right here!" I point to the right button.

"You said it was called a 'click.'" Rachel says.

I let my breath out. "No, I didn't!"

Rachel nods. "Yes, you did! You said 'Now, use the right click,' or something like that!"

Tá sí ag dul a thiomáint dÚsachtach dom! I think.
"Listen. It is called a button. Okay?" I'm trying to keep my patience.

"Then say that in the first place."

My face burns hot. This goes on for a while, and reaches its peak when Rachel says, "IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW, DON'T BOTHER TRYING TO TEACH ME!" And stomped off.

"Fine!" I say. "Má tá tú ag dul chun dul isteach ar fud an domhain ag gníomhú mar sin, ansin breá!"
I wish I could've taken that back. A few girls giggle, but they don't look at me.

"Glupaya devochka." Istra whispers.
Stupid girl. I wanted to yell at Istra that I wasn't as stupid as she thought I was. But I keep quiet, as usual.

At home, Gillian is mean to me as usual.

Eagon is in the living room, studying for a math quiz. "Dia duit, Breá!"

"Dea-lá," I sigh.

Eagon plops himself on the couch next to me. "Cad atá cearr? Agus ná a rá sé rud ar bith," he says sternly.

"Gach rud! An tír nua, Istra, Gillian a bheith chomh ... neamh-íogair!" I yell, leaving out the part about Future Breá. "Níl mé ag iarraidh a bheith anseo, Eagon! Ba mhaith liom a bheith in Éirinn! Le mo theaghlach fíor..." my voice trails off and I burst into tears.

Eagon holds me close to him, whispering "It's okay," when I know it's not. When my crying dies down a bit, he is staring straight at me.

"What?" I ask quietly.

He holds his head down, supposedly so Gillian won't hear. "Mé ag iarraidh a insint duit seo ar feadh na mblianta, ach ..." Eagon quiets his voice. "Tú mo ghrá, Breá."

My eyes get big. For whatever reason, I can't look at him without my body going all warm. Mo dhia! Eagon grá liom! Tá sé seo amhlaidh aisteach! Chun cé chomh fada? Wonder mé ...

As you can see, yesterday was quite, ummm, interesting.


Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Am Don Scoil!

Dia duit mo bhlag, agus gach duine a léamh! As you know, yesterday was my first day in an American School. I loved it, but it wasn't excatly the school... it was the girls!

Since it would take me seven posts to describe the twenty four girls in my class, here are the ones that stand out.

Well, there's my first new friend, Marya, who is fascinated with anything having to do with animals.

Then, there's Calista and Madison, who I cannot tell apart to save my life.

Rachel is about 94 years old and is from 1918. I'm 'in charge' of helping her to learn how to use a computer, and to be honest...Tá sí a dhéanamh dom chaill mé mo intinn!  :D

Istra is very quiet and from 1942 Poland. Her mother is Polish and her father is Russian. She scares me a bit, because she has dark black eyes that always look angry. When I tried to talk to her, Istra did nothing but glared at me.

Fabienne isn't that unusual in her personality, she's  just extremely tall (five foot eight-and-a-half) with a long full name (Fabienne Amèlie Chevelle La Salle).

Ari and Mai Xian are ancient. Ari is from Egypt and needs help using pencils. Mai Xian is Chinese and speaks no English whatsoever except for 'Hi!'

Lastly, there's Breá. Yep. Breá Murchú. Me from the year 2015. I don't know how in the world she even exists, let alone lives in the same area as me. (I'll tell how I met her, just in another post.) She has the same honey-coloured hair as me, just with a few streaks of brown. I haven't talked to her since we met because I'm afraid that I'll just dissapear!


Oh well. I just have to make the best of this.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

My New Life: Day Amháin

Dia duit do gach duine a léamh an bhlag seo! Well, yesterday was my first day in America. I like the country and all, but the family I'm staying with is ruining it! Here how the day went...

Hour amháin (noon):
Mrs. Westenra picks me and Eagon up from the airport. She looks nice. She has dark brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles that cover her arms and face.

Hour dhá:
We meet the Westenra children, Gillian (who's eleven) and Tate (who's one). Both of them look at us like we have two heads. "Ugh. Cén fáth go bhfuil siad chun fanacht le linn?" Gillian mutters, thinking I can't hear her. I was seriously thinking about telling her to éist a béal, but I was afraid I would be sent back to Ireland.

Hour trí:
I'm sharing a room with Gillian. Ugh.

Hour ocht:
Gillian is angry at me for mistaking a pair of her slippers for mine. Eagon and I decide to play with the baby. Eagon gets bitten, and I can't help but laugh. We have cál ceannann, which is mashed potatoes and kale.

Hour naoi:
I can FINALLY sleep despite hearing Gillian babbling on her phone.

As you can see, yesterday wasn't  the best day ever. And today, I'm going to school. Ohhh boy...


Sunday, August 19, 2012

Dia Duit!

Dia duit ar an domhan! I am Breá Murchú, a thirteen year old doll from County Down, Ireland.

You may not know this, but my name, Breá, is Irish for 'love.' The strange thing is, Máthair, my mom, made plans to ship me off to the States after learning some devastating news. There isn't much love in my family right now.

On a more positive note, I am on the plane now, heading for a new life. I am with my cara is fearr, Eagon. He is my favorite person in the world! He's known me since we were toddlers. If he weren't here now, I probably would've had a heart attack (I've never been on a plane before)!

"Ó, Eagon! Cad a tharlaíonn má théann rud éigin mícheart, andd ní féidir linn a dhéanamh?" I whined.

Eagon chuckles, but looks solemn. "Beidh Ní dhéanfaidh aon ní a tharlóidh, Breá. Iontaobhas dom. Ná bíodh imní ort."

I smile at him. He didn't seem to notice that I had grabbed his hand.
(BTW, sorry this was such a short post! I plan to write more about me soon)