The Adventures of Code

Long ago, back when I wrote random stories on a site called Quizilla (I'd leave you a link, but it's nothing like what it used to be) because I was bored in high school and really enjoyed writing. The nice thing about it was although it was set up as a site for quizzes, people wrote stories as well. Some that were quite interesting, if I remember correctly. Granted, a lot of them had some major spelling mistakes,   but fear not! I was one of the ones who spell-checked before publishing... usually. (Note: I don't plan on mentioning the stories I wrote because I was in high school and they pretty much sucked. Just... take my word for it).

A banner one of my followers made me for one of my stories.
Nothing special, but I was really happy for the support!

Anyway, I learned some good habits from this. First, I learned how to write for an audience. I knew I had to write stories that would intrigue the people who were already on the site, and from reading around, most of this meant chick flicks or vampires. I delved into both because coincidentally, I was going through my vampire phase. Two, I learned how to write as a habit because I usually would post a new section  every Saturday morning. I would sit at our family computer (ah, the time before my own laptop... good times) and crank out a chapter for a few hours. I wrote more in the summer, obviously, because I was free. After awhile, I became a beast at leaving cliff-hangers, but I never wanted to leave them for too long. I did end up with a few fans, and I didn't want to disappoint. Third and finally, I learned a bit about writing HTML.

Even then, I knew this was not much of an accomplishment because I would really just Google whatever I wanted to know. At the same time, though, I learned what made up my page and would change the font, color, background, and even some mood music to set the tone. I will admit I sometimes went a little overboard, but I would pull back if need be. I even added a few pictures and videos for good measure, all using the HTML code.

Fast forward back to present day, when I am now trying to learn more advanced code. One of my dear friends introduced me to Codecademy, which is a site that teaches you code in baby steps. I've fallen in love with it and do every lesson with vigor. I just finished the courses on HTML and CSS, which was half review because of what I've done before. I did enjoy CSS and am excited to continue learning random things!

Why bother, you ask? Well, since I learned HTML I have enjoyed playing around with websites and such. I also think that as the world becomes more digital, knowing more about computers is helpful. My laptop, Zachary, is also on Linux because of a few mishaps on Windows 7, so understanding a bit more code might also take away some of the fear of trying to fix my own problems. Finally, if I'm going to be a librarian of the future, I might as well keep up with the technology that will hopefully continue to integrate into my workplace. Really, that last one I just threw out there for good measure.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

St. Patrick's Day always has a special place in my heart. Most of my ancestors were Irish, but came over at different times. Some came over before the United States were formed (according to my mother) while others came over during the potato famine. Some of my ancestors worked on the railroads here in lovely Cleveland, Ohio, and even my dad worked in the steel mills. When people meet me, they sometimes remark how Irish I seem, whether it's by my name (Mary Katherine) or appearance (gotta love my pale freckled skin). On top of all this, I also did Irish dancing for ten years, and how I began is the story I will tell today.

Yes, I will confess I became a dancer because of Riverdance. I saw it on television and I remember being floored by the mix of strength and beauty the dancers had. Their stomping feet would mesmerize me and I'd sit there fascinated, slowing inching closer to the screen without even meaning to. If it ever came on, I wanted to watch because I would then try to mimic their steps. As I recall, I thought I did pretty well, but I probably looked pretty silly trying to hold my hands to my sides as I stomped and shuffled around. I imagine I was also very wobbly as I tried to manage my steps.

Unfortunately, my parents did not want to invest unless I was absolutely certain I wanted to dance. This is perfectly reasonable because after buying the two pairs of shoes, the socks, the lessons, the heavy expensive dress, the wig, the competition fees, the hotel rooms, and the gas to travel to the competitions, your wallet feels pretty exhausted. I didn't even mention any souvenirs or extra T-shirts and sweatshirts to advertise your school! Oh, silly me. Thus, it took a year of my trying to persuade them that I wanted to dance before they would let me, and one vacation had to occur first as well.

It was the summer of 1998 (I think, my memory is foggy, but stay with me). I was eight years old and ready to start third grade that fall. My family decided to go on a vacation down to the Isle of Palms, South Carolina because my aunt and uncle owned a beach house there. It was a nice house with about a ten minute walk to the beach, but not important for the story. The point is, we were there.

Anyway, one night my family stopped at an Irish pub-like restaurant for dinner. My mother can remember the name, but I was eight so it didn't matter to me. I remember dark wood and cramped spaces. There was a guitarist in the corner singing random songs such as "Cheeseburger in Paradise" and my mother immediately sang along. I think that was the first time I remember listening to Jimmy Buffet, but definitely not the last.

Later on, after we finished, my aunt and uncle's foster daughter at the time asked me to dance with her to the music. She was nine, I believe, so around my age and I liked her. It took a little bit of persuasion to get me away from my parents, but eventually I stood up and decided not to just dance. I wanted to Irish dance. My memory made me think that an Irish tune was playing, but I honestly cannot remember the music. I do remember people clapping along as I whipped my feet around, taking all the attention away from my friend. My arms tried to stay at my sides as I bumped and shuffled, feeling accomplished until I finally collapsed back into my seat. Applause filled the restaurant as my mom handed me my spring jacket and we headed for the door.

As I was just about to exit onto the street, I heard the guitarist say, "You know, if she had kept her arms a little tighter, I would have thought she was Riverdancing."

Before I knew it, I was in my classes learning about all the different steps and keeping my hands at my sides. Part of me has always wanted to go back to that restaurant (that's still there) and dance again, but I know no one would remember. Not to mention, it's been around five years since I had my last Irish dancing class, so I'm a little rusty. I'll still dance for you on St. Patrick's Day, though. All you have to do is ask.

Dance as if no one is watching

Sing as if no one is listening

And live every day as if it was your last.

An Irish Blessing