A Beginning

Hello and welcome to my humble blog. Enter if you dare, but here I must warn you, and warn you well. None who enter may leave without having been changed forever in some fantastical way or another! So, if you dare, enter. If you’re man or woman enough, enter! If you are truly up to the challenge of joining me for my summer, then square your shoulders, throw up your guard and enter.

Is anyone still reading this? Yes? Hm. Commendable. You either see something great, a beginning, a promise beyond the cliche’d and overused lines here, or you’re bored, on the internet, and literally have exhausted every other resource of amusement there is to be found, in which case, you sir-or-madam, are superhuman, and therefore, commendable. And here we are again, having come full circle.

I suppose by now, you’re wondering who in the world I am, and why I feel the need to plaster my inner thoughts and outer ramblings on the internet for all the world to see. Well, here we go.

We’ll start with the introductions. My name is Ian. Ian Sullivan. Ian Odysseus Ulyssus Sullivan. Yes. My father is passionate about Greek culture, and my mother about Roman. Which is funny, because they’re practically the same thing. They must have thought it was funny too, because they got married, and so here I am.

I was born in 1994 into a very lower middle-class family. My parents were just scraping by, only a few years out of university. The day before I turned five years old, I asked my parents why I had two middle names. They told me that they didn’t have much else to give me, so they gave me the extra name. Of course, they’ve always been a bit cheap, and the they both refer to the same person! (Just kidding mum, I love you!)

A week after my father told me this, he got promoted to a high up position in an advertising company, and has been rising through the ranks ever since. Now he’s rich enough to afford a dozen or so middle names for all of us, with a few extra to hand out to people he meets on the street!

So, my name is Ian, but I don’t remember the last time anyone called me that. For as long as I can remember, it’s been Vic, Vics, Viking or anything derived from the original nickname, Vicar. Nobody knows how I came by it, it just sort of happened, like the Mona Lisa.

So here I am, a 17 year old boy, starting his first summer in America.

Oh, I should probably say something about that... You may have noticed that I have an Irish (Greek(Roman)) name. It’s not just the name. I was born in Cork, Ireland, and spent sixteen years there. Last Autumn, my dad’s job called for us to move to America, so here we are!

I just finished limping through my Junior year of highschool: a cobbed together course I completed at home. I froze my way through my first brutal New York winter, and now, as I said, I’m heading into my very first American summer.

As to why I would want to blog about all this, well, my mates back in Ireland desperately need to know about every tiny thing that I do here, and the truth is, I’m just bored, and hopeful for a beautiful and memorable summer.

You probably wonder what I look like! I’m afraid I can’t risk posting any actual photographs, as I’m wanted in four countries around the world, but here’s a sketch one of my mates, Sean, did of me.

One, yes, I’m ginger. Two, yes, I have glasses. Three, yes, Sean’s a rotten caricaturist.

I’m slightly short sighted, very much in possession of a soul, and that zit is a blatant exaggeration!

They say that gingers have the most fun, but I leave it for you to decide over the next few months!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am the Vicar, and this is my life!