Special K

I like using initials, but for K it seems more relevant since she is Eastern European, and you know how they love using initials.

Anyway, K came to visit, which was wonderful. Not many people could put up with living on a cot out of a suitcase for ten days, but she did it without complaint. I always knew there was something special about that girl!

We did a bunch of touristy stuff, and I finally climbed the Eiffel tower. It actually wasn't as expensive as I thought it was, or maybe I just got used to outrageous prices. Anyway, I don't have much to say about it except that I like how they numbered the steps. Also, there are a lot of steps. My legs hurt the next day.

Went to the Louvre again. I have this kind of weird relationship with the Mona Lisa where I take people to see it or I walk there by myself if I'm alone, but then I won't actually look at it. I just cower at the opposite side of the room. I'm really scared of becoming that stereotype, saying "there really is something captivating about her!" But I finally walked up and looked at it for serious, and she winked at me! It was pretty creepy. Supposedly it was actually a self-portrait that Da Vinci became obsessed with. I think there's also a map to some hidden treasure the founding fathers got from Egypt if you put some special stuff on the back.

Also finally went to the Rodin and Picasso museum. Those guys sure can do what they do!

It was really sad when K left. I stayed up all night because I was at a party until about 2:00 and her taxi left at 4:00 or so. I couldn't sleep after that, so I went running around the block at about 5:00. I learned that it is much safer to go running in Paris at 11:30 or midnight than 5:00 AM. Some guy was yelling at me from his car that he was a DJ, so I just yelled back that I don't speak French and then I ran away. It was pretty intense. I also got really sick immediately afterwards because some food poisoning from a bad drunchies choice kicked in. Ouch.

Bad job

Whoa, I kind of forgot about this. In short: I became addicted to the blogosphere for a few weeks, and then K came, and then I had to write a 60-page research paper in French, then I went to Switzerland. Also, I lost my journal in Switzerland. So here come some belated posts, completely from memory!

10 Things On The Internet (Even) Better Than This Blog

These are things that keep me from blogging consistently.
1. Reverse Cowgirl: Susannah Breslin's blog, there's some weird stuff going on out there!
2. Daily Kos: Smart, in-depth political coverage.
3. Indexed: Funny charts of stuff.
4. Diet Blog (esp. discussion boards!): Has really good up-to-date health information, and you can read the comments of health-crazed readers below each article. They can be kind of annoying sometimes (i.e. "I splurged on salt-free popcorn last night!") but I like it when they fight.
5. Last.fm: This website was not so good when I was in high school, but it has gotten way better in the past three years. It's kind of creepy because it takes information from your iTunes (if you allow it to), but it will create a custom radio station based on your musical likes and dislikes. Also generates custom musical recommendations, which helped me to find some great music. I'm downloading the Postmarks right now as a result.
6. Huffington Post: I've had a huge affection for Arianna Huffington since I first saw her on Real Time. So charming and ruthless at the same time! Her blog (we call it HuffPo) features many contributors covering style, living, and left-wing politics. If I have a daughter, Arianna is on the potential name list.
7. Daily Dish: Andrew Sullivan's blog, another political one, is updated constantly. I don't know how he does it. It's smart, and the news summaries are fast with more in-depth articles if you choose.
8. Sartorialist: I'm really mad that he hasn't photographed me yet despite the fact that I'm in Paris. But I love him anyway.
9. Craigslist: Not just if you're buying/selling/dating. It's really fun just to read the ads and see the stuff people are trying to sell. My favorite sections are "free to pick up", "pets", and "jewelry". Expensive jewelry descriptions often start with angry descriptions of why a relationship failed.
10. Style.com: Lots of pictures of pretty clothes! You can look at all of the clothes from every major designer's collection starting in 2004.

Training for Disappointment

I am on the train, again, on my way back from Amsterdam. I had an amazing weekend, and I really don’t want to start work again tomorrow.

Showing up in Amsterdam was just as I imagined it, times ten. It was the biggest drinking holiday of the year, and as soon as I got off the train I was surrounded by drunks in bright orange. Even the cops were trashed; I asked one where to get a taxi and he told me that there are none. Eventually I found a driver who almost killed a few dozen people getting me to T’s, and over-charged me pretty drastically.

T’s room is palacial. His closet is the size of my room in Paris, and there’s a kitchen in it. This really doesn’t seem fair, and makes me even less happy to go back to the foyer. I got the day off recently and in late morning the fire alarm went off. About half the residents were still in the building. This in combination with the free presentations from government officials entitled “You CAN Get A Job!” made me realize that I’m living in, basically, the projects. Which is fine, I guess.

I rented a bike in Amsterdam. I’ve had bike envy for the past couple of weeks, so it was really good to get that out of my system. The shop I rented from was (bizarrely) called MacBike. I think I got a lot better at locking up my bike and riding my bike during the weekend, which probably had a positive effect on my self-esteem.

T and I did three museums: the contemporary art museum, the Van Gogh, and the Dutch Golden Age museum. The contemporary one was a mix of really cool and the kind of work that makes people say they hate modern art. Usually, when people say this they mean to say “contemporary”. Modern is the earlier part of the 20th century…Sometimes if I’m feeling like being difficult, I say something to these people like “I actually really like Picasso!” That gets them every time.

J and her friend came down from Maastricht, so we all four took a walk around the city and the red light district. I saw some prostitutes; there’s a pretty wide range of body types to choose from. Good to know that you don't have to be perfect to be a prostitute.

Believing (Or Not) In Oneself

I am writing on a train in France. How hopelessly idyllic! I’m on my way to Amsterdam, where people are already crowding the bars (or so I hear) in a celebration of Queen’s Day. Her name is Beatrice. Haha!
These trains just aren’t what they used to be. I am going from Paris to Brussels in about an hour, because I am on the TGV, one of the fastest trains in the world. Maybe an hour doesn’t sound that fast to you, but keep in mind that it takes me thirty minutes to get from the 14th to the 4th arrondissement in Paris, which is traversing less than a quarter of the city. Now does the TGV sound cool? Allright!

I paid $1.70 to use the train station bathroom. It wasn’t even that nice of a bathroom.

I have been studying the European Union today because we have a test over it on Wednesday in our Foreign Policy class. It’s one of those classes where you can tell no one is listening and there’s an ambiance of pleasant daydreaming. I have discovered a lot during that class, like that I can draw some animals just by thinking about them. I’ve been reading the wikipedia articles as a substitute for reviewing my notes/lists of foods I like, and it’s kind of funny how much I absorbed in the actual class just by osmosis. Anyway, it turns out that the EU has a pretty complicated infrastructure, but it’s not as bad as the time I took Chinese Politics. There are a lot of acronyms in the EU, like the ECSC, and the EEC, and the EC, and the SCEA, and the FBI, and the CIA, and the BBC, Doris Day, Dig it!

I am so happy right now. I’ve got a great internship “earmarked” (it’s not official yet) for the summer, I’m living in Paris, I have a great boyfriend to go home to, a nice apartment waiting for me, my best friend is coming to visit me soon, I’m on a train for Amsterdam! What more is there to say? My life is perfect.

I keep thinking about when I was a freshman at Macalester and I went to a study abroad info session for the French department. I saw this girl, A, talking about her time interning and studying in Paris. I had seen A before in MacDems meetings, and was already fascinated by her perfect makeup, stylish clothes, and poise. How did she get so cool? Hearing that she had worked in Paris really tipped the scale from admiration to secret obsession for me. She must be so good at French, and so cultured. I still remember asking her about how study abroad is financed, and she said that in Paris you’re going to end up paying $9 for shampoo. Then she half-rolled her eyes and half-smiled in a perfectly blasé way that only a really cool girl could do. I will admit that one of the most flattering compliments I’ve received was when another girl at Macalester told me that everyone kept thinking that I was A. Now I’m thinking I’m never really going to be A, but I can be equally cool in my own right. I mean, I worked at a fashion PR firm based in Paris this semester. Damn, that sounds cool.

I have been trying to find that David Bowie song “don’t believe in yourself, knowledge comes with it’s release…something something”. I know it’s on my iPod, but I can’t find it. So annoying.

Bad Attitude

The French are a mean group of people. Here are the things that people have done to me when I run:
1. Glare at me
2. Stare at me
3. Run alongside me
4. Ask "why are you running?"
5. Yell at me (mean things)
6. Yell at me (um, you know...)
7. If I start walking, yell "run! run!"
8. Laugh at me

This is why I have to take the metro to the park to avoid ridicule. This is why I can't wait to go home.

Famous In Japan

Would you rather flood your room or not shower? This may be a hypothetical for some, but for me it's a real-life situation. The drain's broken, last night I chose short shower with no hair wash. My hair is greasy and my room smells like mildew from the towel I used to soak up the water that flooded my room. I hung the towel out the window to dry but then it started raining. Also, did I write earlier that I am probably on Japanese TV? I walked into a shot because the filming was in my way at a local market. Then I decided if I was going to be on TV I was going all out, so I just kind of stubbornly shopped in the way of the shot for about three minutes. Those Japanese are so polite, they didn't say a thing!
Speaking of racism, I met an Australian woman who told me it was okay if Obama won because he's not a real negro. Hmm, I agree with the former part.
Today a Japanese movie is filming outside my building. It involves a child crying over the body of a man with blood streaming out of his head. I watched them shooting that scene from different angles for maybe ten minutes. It must get pretty old for the kid. And uncomfortable for the guy. I guess the movie business isn't so glamorous after all. I definitely wasn't in the movie image-wise, but maybe you can kind of hear my footsteps in it. Get ready Japan, here I come!

Don't Know What It's All About

For the first time in my life I have started actually noticing people’s bodies in pop culture. My research has kind of made me start looking at them more closely. It honestly seems strange to me that so many girls do this naturally; I’ve read a LOT of fashion magazines cover-to-cover and have never felt inferior about anything except my income. Same with movies; when people talk about how curvy Scarlett Johannsen is or how Keira Knightley is ghastly I really have never thought about it. I mean, they’re both skinny but not frighteningly so, beyond that I never noticed anything. I don’t mean to say that the images on screen don’t have an effect on me, I’m definitely more conscious about my skin, clothes, or social awkwardness after watching certain movies. Bodies of celebrities all seem just skinny to me, though.
Why do girls watch these bodies so carefully? In real life between the ages 18-21 I’ve fluctuated up and down at least ten pounds, but I know that regardless of how thin I am it’s my mood that pushes people towards (or away) from me. I have to think that this is pretty universal; obviously obesity is something else but society doesn’t really pick bones day-to-day between healthy-regular and healthy-skinny weight. Really, who notices? Even since my exercise regime started I dropped a few pant sizes and only N has picked up on it. So why are people so vicious about fluctuations of models or celebrities? I read a theory in a study that said that the obese are more likely to stay that way when they see these impossible images of what “skinny” is. I feel like Charlie Brown, it’s a depressing thing to think about and it makes no sense.

Because You Care

All of the classes I wanted were at the same time. Thus my fall schedule:

MWF Schedule
*Crafts of Writing Fiction MWF 10:50-11:50 10223
*19th Century American Lit MWF 3:30-4:30 10231
*Pilates 4:45-5:45 MWF 10657

TR Schedule
*Quantitative Thinking For Policy Analysis TR 9:40-11:10 10270
*Swimming I 1:20-2:30 TR 10642
*Revolutions and Evolutions 3:00-4:30 TR 10774

9:40!? Why even bother going to bed, it's practically still night! Thanks for nothing, Macalester.

Almost Famous

I saw one of my favorite bands the other day, the Brunettes. When asked to describe their music, I have to say twee. Then when people don’t know what that is, I have to say, you know, like the Juno soundtrack? Ohhh. Juno co-opted my music and culture. On the plus side, I now have an easy cultural category to be fit into. Anyway, it was kind of weird because I got there way earlier than necessary, and since I was by myself I had to sit and pretend to read the movie listings for thirty minutes before I got up the courage to say hi to the guy sitting next to me. He was an English teacher, so we had a good time talking. The opening act was an synth-pop DJ named Anoraak, which was kind of fun since I was into synth pop for about three days the week before. The next band was French but wrote their songs in English; they were kind of twangy Elliott Smith types. The Brunettes, however, were awesome. The girl is great, it’s clear that her expressiveness is what makes the band when you see them live. The exciting part is that they had a dance contest and guess who won? Yep, me! To be fair, the announcement was in English, so I may have been among a lucky few who understood. But I got to meet them to collect my reward, which was the end of a bottle of whiskey they had backstage. It was really cool!

Ana and Mia

I wanted to write my research paper on the effects of advertising and brand image. For example, if Chanel releases a campaign showing athletic women in their clothes, will people begin to associate Chanel with athleticism? Or elegance with athleticism? Will rich athletes be more likely to shop at Chanel? Unfortunately, after trying four of the best fashion institutions in Paris I couldn’t find a compendium of advertisements for any brand. So now I’m writing on the effects of anorexia on the fashion world, and vice versa. Original, right? Oh well, at least there’s already huge amounts of research. I kind of got sidetracked with looking at a bunch of pro-ana websites. This is apparently a huge phenomenon of mostly teenage girls writing fasting tips and thinspiration to one another. It’s pretty bad…no, it’s really bad. One woman wrote about how she was going to be deemed an unfit mother if she didn’t cut out her anorexic habits. A high school girl described how she had to break her fast for a salad at her parent’s anniversary dinner because it made her mom cry when she said she wasn’t hungry. There are people on the site trying to fight their anorexia and get back to healthy weight, mixed in with those who are trying anything to drop (one girl at 5’8” mentioned her goal weight is 96 lbs). These sites are really troubling, and haven’t been getting very much media attention according to wikipedia. France passed a law to ban any pro-anorexia websites last week, but facebook and myspace say it’s too difficult to draw a line between support to get better and pressure to lose weight on many of the sites. After seeing the livejournal one I see what they mean; when one girl posted her pictures (which actually looked on the skinny side of healthy) people were telling her she looked great, not specifying any suggestions to lose or gain. Anyway, I didn’t really realize how much the thinspo/mia/ana community comes together. The creepiest thing is that their messages sound like those of normal teenage girls, “OMG I feel like such a fatty I had ½ granola bar for breakfast and an apple for lunch. Hope I can get out of dinner if my parents let me but probs not UGH!” With maybe some frowning faces at the end. Girls with the same stats email each other to plan diets to lose four pounds next week etc. I’ve seen a lot of bulletin boards and web communities but never like this. My high school hypothetical internet equivalent would have been something like “UGH can’t get E Major up to 160 BPM my teacher says it’s too fast anyway but I’m stuck at 120! Anyone want to coordinate metronome speeds next week?” I don’t need to ask to know that those bitches on the clarinet board would never coordinate their metronome practice with me. I just think it’s sad that the ana group I looked at is the most supportive and friendly internet group I’ve ever seen. If these girls were getting this kind of emotional support in their school lives, would things be different?
The way one girl conceptualizes ana is as a girl who lives inside you and only gets the food that you deny yourself. If you eat too much, she dies. If you don't eat at all, you die. I think it's safe to say I killed ana. Whoops.

Slapstick

I fell down the stairs today. Not a little bit, I actually fell and then slid down maybe four stairs. And then I had to turn over onto my stomach to get myself up. I think tomorrow about half of my left leg will be purple. Hey, I just thought of something: is the book the Color Purple named so because she was bruised? I never got far enough in for the explanation.

Not Free To Pick Up

I went to the fashion and interior design museum again, which was great. I’ve never gone through the furniture part before, but it was actually really fun. The best part is a room full of designer chairs that you can sit in while you watch a montage of clips from movies featuring furniture in the museum. I sat in this bed type chair, and it was heavenly. The angle it props up at is really perfect. This makes me wonder what separates a really expensive piece of furniture from a regular one? That chair seemed really great, but I think it was the design and not the craftsmanship that made it so good. But really, I have no idea. I’m just wondering because I’ve been furniture hunting on craigslist and prices seem crazy for couches. I feel like it shouldn’t be that hard or expensive to make an okay couch.

I Can't Even Handle The Preview

I have been hearing a woman screaming on and off in the apartment building next to my office through the wall for the past week or so. Sounds like labor pains, not like a specific cry for help. I wasn’t sure what I should do, and felt kind of reluctant to call the police since I already called them once for a screaming woman about a month ago. In elementary school they told us if you call the police too many times they stop coming, is this true? They also said if you call for a fire and there’s not one then you go to jail. I guess I might find out the French laws about calling the police too many times by the time I’m through here. But the Funny Games trailer made me decide that I should take the risk of looking dumb. I looked dumb. They were actually really nice about it, but it’s on and off, and of course when they got there she was quiet. You would think the police would be able to go into whatever building they needed to, but they didn’t have the code for the apartments next door to me so they called it a day. Great job! Another thing the Funny Games trailer did was keep me up late two nights ago. Why do those guys want to hurt that family? And what is it about those all-white golf clothes that make them look so harmless? I will readily admit that if a serial killer in all-white golf clothes knocked on my door and asked to borrow some eggs I think I would let him in. Not anymore, though. Thank you, Funny Games trailer. You compensate for the ineptitude of the local police. PS just because I linked the Funny Games trailer doesn't mean you should watch it.

Dirty Underbelly of the Arrondissement

I’ve been running around my neighborhood a lot, and now I understand why people don’t sneer at me when I tell them what section of town I live in. The rest of the 14th is actually really beautiful; high-quality restaurants and stores line the wide sidewalks bustling with business people. My neighborhood is barely within the border of the 14th, and about a block away from me all of the well-maintained facades are replaced with run-down Chinese restaurants and struggling local vegetable stands. There’s no place like home.

(Poorly Written, Half-Assed) Movie Reviews of Every Movie Seen Since I Got Here

Sorry no posts for a while, internet was down and then I had some big presentations. Anyway, here come a lot...

Darjeeling Limited: I liked this one! It reminded more of Bottle Rocket than any other movie Wes Anderson has done. The short “Hotel Chevalier” before the real movie was great. The soundtrack left me a little nonplussed compared to all of his other movies, but it was still great.
Be Kind Rewind: This is my least favorite Michel Gondry movie. Yeah, I get that he’s breaking the fourth wall in a whole new way. Big deal, Michel. It was so self-conscious that it made it hard to think about the actual plot. There were some really funny Jack Black parts though, and the end was touching.
Crimes of Oxford/The Oxford Murders: The real crime was the robbery that occurred when I bought the ticket, haha! Seriously, it was a pretty dumb movie. Really over-the-top dialogue in the cheesy romantic sideplot, and the real plot was not that engaging. Plus some of the math that was supposedly difficult for the grad student at Oxford was stuff that I did in fifth grade, and I really think they should have had at least one math person look over the script just to make sure it was semi-reasonable.
There Will Be Blood: The beginning made me think the whole movie was going to be boring, but once I got through the first ten minutes I started loving it. I really want to start talking like Daniel Plainview, and saying things like “Say I have a milkshake and you have a milkshake (this is true, see!)” Unfortunately, this is not a popular pastime in France. This has the best reviews of any movie out in theaters right now over here, including No Country For Old Men, which isn’t even in the top five. Maybe because the French hate zealots? Everyone was cracking up during the crazy church scenes.
Disco: Frank Dubosc, a 40-year-old unemployed divorced father, needs money to pay for a vacation for himself and his son. He and his two aging misfit friends get the old disco group back together and enter a contest for which the prize is two tickets to Australia. Will hard work and the help of a lovely young ballet instructor be enough to transform these three old men into gold medalists? Cliched and great movie. Loved every second.
J’ai Reve Toujours d’Etre Gangster: I have tried to get into this movie three times, and it has always sold out. Last time I was twenty minutes early and the person in front of me bought the last seat. But I really like the trailer.

Free Lunch

There is such a thing! I was walking to the metro station while a sushi place was closing down for the day and one of the employees stopped me on the street and invited me to pick out a free take-away box. I got a salmon roll and it was delicious. After eating that I was getting thirsty, and there was an Orangina promotional van on the sidewalk giving away free mini-bottles. It was amazing. I was kind of mad at Orangina for their gross ads featuring sexualized and anthropomorphized animals/plants, but now that I got that free drink from them I think I'm going to call it even.

My eventual destination was the library, but I gave up on that because the line to get in was three hours long. I don’t know why it’s so popular; I went back today and got in after a mere forty-minute wait and it was a pretty typical library. I heard a couple talking behind me excitedly about what they were going to do in the library; the girl was going to work on revising a paper and the guy was going to find something fun to read. That was really cute.

I Suck At Reading

I finished my book today. It was called The History of the Eye, and I would not recommend it to the faint of heart. I saw it on the Penguin list of 100 best books of all-time, so don't judge me for reading about some teenagers having sex with and killing a priest. And cutting out his eye. Ow!
Now I have to find a new book, and I've decided it's inexcusable to just read gossip girl. So I went back on the list of classics to try to find something. Madame Bovary? Boring! I couldn't even get through that one in English. Les Miserables? Too long. And probably full of crazy 19th century vocab I'll never use. I already saw the play, so there's also no suspense.
I'm stuck between Pére Goriot and the Charterhouse of Parma, but I'm guessing I'll go with the former since it's Balzac and I can acquit myself of some guilt for not getting through some other Balzac novel about a crazy woman who only repeated one word. After going through this decision process, it struck me that I suck. Instead of delighting in the classics of literature, I tend to be really dismissive of something if I don't like it. Madame Bovary is presumably a pretty good book, but about half way through I just couldn't take her whining anymore. It was the only book I brought to the beach, so instead I just stared at the ocean, which was much more enjoyable for me. What am I missing?
I made a rule that I will only read French in France, but so far I've only read two books. It takes so freaking long to look up every word I don't know. I have been realizing that I only use a certain amount of words and phrases every day, over and over. This is probably true in English as well, but I have a larger vocabulary in English for writing and reading. In French it's just not there. Today I looked up the word "to lift". Then I looked it up again, because I forgot it within an hour. Ugh.

Really Makes You Think

The expression “really makes you think” is something that I’ve been using ironically, but I don’t think that anyone else thinks it’s funny, or maybe no one knows I’m joking when I say it. How could something force you to think? I usually say it after someone saying something like “all those stars are so far away”, or something really cliché like that, so it seems kind of obvious that I’m joking. But I think I’m just making people think I’m stupid. Now this is making me think!
Anyway, top 40 radio is on in the office all day, and here are some songs that have been making me think:
1. Let's Make love in The Club by Usher: this song is about how Usher wants to “make love in this club” and he doesn’t “care who’s watching”. The situation as I understand it is that a girl he’s dancing with really wants to make love in the club, and he needs some convincing, but if she “keeps this up” then she might really get to make love in the club with Usher. But it never explicitly says she wants to make love in the club, it’s just kind of an implicit understanding that she does. It’s kind of heroic and comforting of him to make love to her, especially because she’s stressed that “her baby left school”. Just a little charity sex.
2. Wanna Be Startin' Something by Michael Jackson featuring Akon “I met her on a walkway/Stared as she walked by/She turned back at me sideways/Said ‘I can’t help but ask’/Do you wanna be starting something?” First of all, what the hell kind of walkway is this? Is it like a moving walkway in an airport? Or like a boardwalk, maybe? The walking side of a bike path in a public park? Second, she can’t help but ask if he wants to get with her? He is staring, so I don’t think she has to excuse her question by saying she “can’t help” but ask it. And who says they “can’t help but ask” anymore? Is this song based on a Jane Austen Novel? And third, the question “do you wanna be starting something?” could easily be misconstrued to mean “do you want to fight me?” If the world’s cutest boy (PS) asked me if I wanted to be starting something, I would run away. Anyway, they go back to her place and he wishes he “could tell you what (he) saw/Sexiest woman in a negligee” Umm, I think you just told me, then. They “hit it off until the dawn”. I think this song could be a pick-me-up for guys who stare at women in the hopes that they can be starting something. It’s their version of “Don’t Stop Believing”. Hold onto that feeling!
3. Take You There by Sean Kingston “We can go to Bahamas/Sip pina coladas/Shorty, I can take you there/Or we can go to the slums/Where killers get hung/Shorty, I can take you there” The whole song is based on the premise that this guy is asking where his girlfriend wants to go: the Bahamas or the slums? Hmm, tough one. He won’t think less of her for choosing the Bahamas; “Baby, it’s up to you, it’s whatever you like”. He is “known in the ghetto”, so and it’s where he’s from, but he has no problem with not taking her home. So it’s not a question of their relationship getting serious and he needs to take her home. It’s literally just her choice between pina coladas or watching killers get hung. The refrain says “Or we could go to a place you would like/the beach…welcome to paradise”, so he knows that she would like the beach. And the “or” before “a place you would like” shows that he knows that she doesn’t like the slums. So why is he even asking this question?

This is how I spend my days. This is the way I live.

Everything I Needed To Know I Learned In Kindergarten

I am sick and it’s only getting worse. I finally (day three) went to the pharmacy and bought twenty dollars worth of cough medicine, which in France means four days of pills to stop my runny nose and a small bottle of throat spray. I know what you’re thinking: why not buy an all-in-one medicine for colds, like NyQuil? Well, I’m way ahead of you, but France is not. They looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if there was one medicine that could do both things.

I went in to work sleep-deprived and voiceless, hoping I could just watch eBay auctions quietly. Asked Jean-Paul if there was anything to be done, unfortunately, there was. We have a lookbook with all of the product placements in magazines we’ve done, and I had to update it. Anyone who remembers my stunning performances in Book Arts knows that I have no talent for cutting in a straight line (the teacher thought I had a learning disability, it’s that bad). It probably goes without saying that I fucked it up, but for illustrative purposes: I started, lunched, came back and started pasting in a brand that has it’s own lookbook, undid that, realized that all the brands have to be separate, undid more things…Plus the cutting is clearly uneven, and there’s glue on the pages. Awesome.

I was doing so well on my diet and exercise, but now it’s all gone to waste. I can barely even walk up the stairs without feeling like I’m going to fall down, so I’m kind of stuck in bed. Today I had the most delicious pastry that I’ve ever eaten, I think. It was called the divorce; it’s an éclair filled with light chocolate crème and coated half with coffee-flavored icing and half with dark chocolate, with a small line of whipped cream down the center. I think I’m going to make that mistake again.

The Negative Effects Of Your Friendly Neighborhood General Store Clerk

There are two friendly neighborhood general store clerks in my vicinity. I have to take a break from one because he asked me out and I said I don’t have a phone and ran away. I went to the other one to see if he had the kind of razor blades that I use, and he didn’t, but he offered me some Bic disposables. I told him I needed another kind, but he told me his kind was really good. He seemed kind of sad that I didn’t want them, so I pretended like I did actually like them and I bought them. Then he didn’t have my change, so he gave me some candies of the same value instead. It was all cute enough until I came out of the shower and saw the streams of blood running down my legs. And out of two points in the centers of my palms. Just kidding. But I seriously did cut myself pretty badly.

Museums and Stuff

I went to the Natural Science Museum on Saturday, it was great. I liked it because it wasn't one of those ones where you have to read a lot to get anything out of it. One part was huge crystals and other pretty rocks, and another part was crazy things that live in the depths of the sea. There's some weird stuff down there. I felt kind of ungrateful since the third part was about dinosaurs, and I don't like dinosaurs as much as a lot of other people I know. I did enjoy the awesome dinosaur statue outside the museum, though. It was kind of like the one outside the McDonalds on Tanque Verde in T-town (holler!).

After that I went to an eco fair and got a free biodegradable bag to carry my groceries in. Jealous? Walked across the Seine, had some food that wasn't a sandwich or a pastry (soup!) at Wannajuice, and since it was Saturday night Nola and I got drunk and watched the little mermaid. I realized for the first time that Triton has the power to make Ariel human, so why can't he just make himself human sometimes to come visit her? Or vice versa, give her and Eric some gills and tails and they can come down for the weekend? And why do they all speak English? Plotholes!

Absurdly Boring

I saw a Ionesco play on Thursday. I'm not really clear on who picked it because we went in a large group, but if I ever find out who it was then that person will not be allowed to plan future events. Plot synopsis: a boy's family is mad at him. Then he says he likes potatoes, and they are all very proud of him. They set him up with a girl, but he doesn't like her because she only has one nose. So they put some more noses on the same girl, and they fall in love. This half lasted two hours. Everyone thought the next act was going to be an entirely different play since it had a different name, but it was actually part two. The grandpa of the boy dies, and then the girl and the boy give birth to chicken eggs. Then they make an omelette out of the eggs. The end.

The weird thing is that there were parts where I kind of enjoyed it in a creepy kind of Lynchian (real word?) way. But I ended up just feeling really irritated about it when it was finally over.

Synth Pop

I know this is nothing new, but I'm still not over these:

1. West End Girls: You've got a heart of glass or a heart of stone/ Just wait 'till I get you home/ We've got no future, we've got no past/ Here today, built to last

2. Inner City Pressure: So you think maybe you'll be a prostitute/ Just to pay for your lessons, you're learning the flute/ The ladies won't pay you very much for this/ Looks like you'll never be a concert flautist

2 Things

1. When someone's shooting at you, it's really important that your luggage survive unharmed.

2. Tips on Living Alone

Searching for Bobby Fischer...So I Can Kick His Ass!

Oh, that wonderful boy-miracle chess genius, Bobby Fischer. Who else got really mad at the chess teacher who was tricking him in the movie? Well, now I feel sorry for the chess teacher. It turns out that as a young child, Bobby habitually tortured small creatures. Though Jewish, he spent years railing against the evil ways of the Jews to anyone who would listen. He's fucked up. I guess I'm more mad at the movie than at him, since he's just crazy. Or was crazy, I guess he kicked the bucket recently.

No joke! Really!

I’m starting a regime of diet and exercise! No, seriously. It’s for real this time. It started yesterday when I ran up and down seven flights of stairs twice. This took ten minutes, and burned my lungs. Today I bought apples, strawberries, hummus, and fat-free yogurt. I’m going to be so healthy and long-living, it will be awesome. Maybe I can go up and down the stairs three times tonight? N told me that I should go running in a park, but I don’t think that it’s worth the metro trip when the trip will probably be about eight times as long as the time spent running. Maybe I can work up to forty-five minutes or something, though. I used to be able to do that when I was young. I've included a picture projecting what I'll look like in about three and a half weeks, just as a reference.

Les Films

I am so freaking excited for these movies:
-Disco
-J'ai toujours rêvé d'être un gangster
Also, might go see Horton. I like elephants. Maybe also Crimes of Oxford.

If I Lived In Nazi Germany, Would I Be A Nazi? (Looks like "yes")

Remember how my laptop bag broke? Well, I got a new one at the GAP for thirty euros. It was way cheaper because it was in the men’s section, but the guy at the counter made up for the price difference by lightly harassing me for buying a bag intended for guys. It’s a black canvas messenger bag, I hope I’m not mistaken for a man! Though of course this confusion would be understandable considering the circumstances. Then I had to buy a less huge bag to get me to and from work, so I folded (haha) and bought a Longchamp. (Explanation of joke: their bags are famous for folding up.) One of my favorite metro games since I’ve gotten here has been counting the Longchamps, because they are everywhere. The French uniform for girls is a black coat with a scarf over it, knee-length boots, and a Longchamp. I bought the boots in anticipation of this trip, and have added the coat and finally the bag during my time here. This all raises the question: where does my conformity stop? Sure, it’s all good when it means low-price high-quality purses, but would I be wearing a big gold crucifix if I lived in Texas? Regardless, this purse is awesome. I think I’ve already made up the money spent by the elimination of future chiropractor bills. I can put a dictionary, book, wallet, gloves, umbrella, glasses case, keys, and cell phone in there and it feels like nothing. Also, when walking by a man who was yelling at every tourist, he ignored me. Because now I look French. The illusion stops when I open my mouth.

Celeb Gossip!

OMFG, guys! I totally called the offices of some celebrities to send them some pants. I talked to Brad Pitt’s office, and I’m still freaking.

Seriously though, I did. The guy who picked up the phone was such a bro.
Me: “I’m calling on behalf of…blahblahblah…can we send a sample pair to Brad Pitt?”
Him: “Do you want his home address?”
Me: “Umm, I just need an address, where I can, mail these pants-“
Him: “I’m kidding! Do you actually think I’d tell you where Brad and Angelina live!?”
Me: “I thought it seemed a little weird-”
Him: “I’m gonna go ahead and transfer you to Paul Bloch’s office, have a good one.”

I know Brad Pitt’s pant size. Kind of like if we’re girlfriend-boyfriend. I also know other famous people’s jean sizes now. Tom Cruise wins shortest, John Travolta wins fattest. The actual measurements? Wouldn’t you like to know…

MICE!

There are mice in my dorm. A lot of them. I saw them last night when I was watching this indie after-school special, Twelve and Holding, downstairs at 3:00 AM. That’s when they come out. The movie was good, but the mice worry me. They are on the same floor as our kitchen. They’re still cute and stuff, though.

I'm Watching You: Chicks on Speed

Chicks on Speed, the girl DIY band, has come out with a shirt for H&M. The profits go to AIDS victims. Maybe I’m the only one who remembers their GoGo Paris interview less than a year ago when they said that they would never support H&M due to sweatshop labor issues, noting that they "feel blood on their hands" when they touch the clothes. Why the change of heart? Also, what’s worse, not helping AIDS prevention or supporting sweatshop labor? Couldn’t they use a different source to utilize their celebrity status in order to raise funds and awareness for AIDS?

Norma v. The Rake

I went to an opera in Berlin called “Norma”, which was about as exciting as the name suggests. It was about a woman whose husband falls in love with a young girl, so she decides to kill her kids. Thirty minutes later she can’t do it, so she asks her husband to come back to her and forget all about it. Otherwise, she’ll kill him. The decision is obvious: he chooses death in about thirty seconds. It takes twenty minutes for Norma to decide to kill herself as well, and another twenty to convince Norma’s dad to take the kids. I fell asleep during the joint suicide, but considering how rested I felt when I woke up it must have taken a while. It was in Italian, with German subtitles, so that didn’t help either. I came out of that one feeling okay about the fact that opera is on the verge of becoming a dead art form. Good riddance, Norma.

I tried opera again in Paris, and came out with an opposite perspective. The opera was called “The Rake’s Progress”. It was a morality tale about a guy who makes a deal with the devil, who leads him to temptation. After a ton of sex the devil gets him to marry a bearded woman in order to conquer his lust, and then he gets into communism…I know it sounds weird, but it was really, really good. W.H. Auden wrote the book, and Stravinsky did the score. The merging of the music, the lyrics, and the stage production was really perfect. I got these really good seats because if you’re one of the first ten people in a special line (consisting of students, the elderly, and the unemployed) they are discounted. My seat is normally about $170, but I paid $40. I could read the score over the organist’s shoulder. Anyway, now I’m pretty much sold on opera, maybe. I guess I should see a third one and see where I land. It was kind of silly, because I had a dress and fancy shoes packed in my workbag, so I had to change in the opera bathroom. I always wonder if anyone notices when I do that. Speaking of that bag, it’s breaking. $40 at Target, who could see this one coming? It cost the same as my opera ticket, but the opera ticket was better, since the memories will last a lifetime. Just kidding, that’s totally dumb. I needed a bag to put my stuff in, if I had carried it with my bare hands those bad memories would have lasted a lifetime, too. Sometimes I’m not sure how to put a monetary value on things.

Stranger Danger

An American guy came up to me the other day and asked me if I was a prostitute. The typical response to this has been “what were you wearing?” Jeans, flats, a long coat. I was waiting by a metro stop in a pretty hip but innocuous part of town. Not all who wander are lost, and not all who stand still are prostitutes. His exact words were “Are you for sale?” I have spent about probably two hours total thinking of caustic responses, but I still have nothing. It’s harder since it’s a pretty direct question. So if you say “why, are you buying?” or something like that, then they would just be like “yes, I am…” I guess most of my mean phrases usually would be something implying that the guy couldn’t get laid, but he’s basically already admitting that by looking for a prostitute.

Also, a crazy homeless woman tried to spit on PS. Luckily, she missed. I think I understand when people talk about animal instincts, because my first reaction after shock was to do something aggressive back to her. She had already crossed the street, so it came down to me yelling some bad words in English. Once I got a little more collected I yelled bad words at her in French. Then I looked like the crazy one, because she had already sat down quietly on her steps. I do have a better idea for this one in retrospect. We were in the Jewish quarter, so I should have yelled “Why, because we’re Jewish!?” This would have roused some spirits. But much like picking on the guy looking for a prostitute, it seems like you can only be so mean to a crazy homeless woman, even if she tried to spit on your (one’s) boyfriend.

Experiment

(Part One: Written Last Night) I just got peer-pressured by a janitor into smoking hash, and now my sweatshirt smells like smoke. This made me realize that I freaking love that sweatshirt, and that I have worn it nearly every day consecutively for three weeks (gross?), and that I can’t wait for laundry time to wear it again. So I’m dangling it out the window in the hopes that the smell will air out.

(Part Two: Present) It didn't work. What did work was putting it over my heater all day. I think it dispersed the smell throughout the room. Great!

Ways I Have Put My Life In Danger Recently

1. Jaywalking. I'm not going to say that you shouldn't jaywalk, since I'm realistic. But I will say this: give yourself time to trip and get back up, or make the cars stop for you. I had enough time to run across the other day, but I nearly tripped. If I had totally tripped, I might be dead. So, watch out.
2. Salmon, 2 days past expiration.
3. Cheese, 1 day past expiration.

BUT I skipped out on the ham not past expiration that smelled like alcohol and was shriveled. So that's good, right?

Space Jam

Some people still aren't over the Space Jam soundtrack. Namely, the French people. "I Believe I Can Fly" is really big over here. Probably even bigger than Billie Jean.

My boss let me go two hours early today! I also finally found a cheap, warm place to eat close by. I basically have to buy lunch every day, otherwise I'm stuck in the office or outside in the cold. But $5.00 daily is a small price to pay for an hour of heat.

Installment #1 of Berlin-Prague-Vienna trip: On the plane to Berlin I was talking to a man in French. I made a stupid mistake, translating directly from English I asked what time it is but in French it's asking about the weather. So I corrected myself, and he was like, "the time's the same, but I don't know about the weather". Just to kind of stick it to me. We kept talking, he asked me if I was American, I said yes and asked him where he was from. France? No. Germany? No. Where? Ireland. We're still in French. So I switch to English. "Oh, haha, I've been speaking French this whole time." "J'ai été en France depuis six ans." Umm, what? He literally refused to speak English with me. So pompous.

..But The Kid Is Not My Son!

I am pretty proud of myself today; I talked to a girl from Marie Claire on the phone and sent her some shoes. Wow, now that I write it out it sounds really easy and dumb, huh?

The office is really, really cold. First day outfit: skirt and shirt with cardigan. Second day: jeans with shirt and cardigan. Third day: tights under jeans and a cashmere sweater, and I was still shivering. Tomorrow I'm breaking out the fingerless gloves.

Which provides a perfect transition for my next topic: popular Michael Jackson songs. At home it's all about Thriller, but I swear I've heard Billie Jean more in the past two months than I have in my entire life. Every store, all the time. I still can't figure out all of the words, but I can make sounds that sound like the words. She was shmata devansa lee...

First Day of the Rest of My Life!?

I'm back from my amazing Berlin-Prague-Vienna tour! I don't really have the energy to write on this right now, but I think as work news slows I can go back and document all.

I decided to forego second interviews etc. and take the job with VV, of which I just finished my second day. I know that sentence doesn't work in the grammatical sense, but it does illustrate the state of my brain. The first day was wonderful; I showed up at 2:00 PM and was given tea and chocolate bears with marshmallow stuffing. I browsed some catalogues and took off around 5:30 or 6:00. Best internship ever? Not so fast. Day 2 started with writing copy for a press release. In French. I can barely order a baguette without shaking in fear, so this was a challenge to say the least. Thank you a million times, whoever built in the thesaurus for Microsoft Word! This may have saved my life today. Afterwards I had lunch by myself at a bar. I have a new pick-up line as a result: just go up to a girl and start saying your number. Or a boy. It probably would be funny to a native speaker, but it took me three times of asking the guy to repeat himself before I got the joke. The latter half of the day was spent compiling a contact list. This is something that requires a person, but just barely. Remember that gorilla Coco? She might be able to do it, too. I basically just looked up all the websites of all the companies that were at Berlin Fashion Week and wrote their emails into an Excel Spreadsheet. There are ten lists of companies, so far I'm on the Bs of the second list. For distraction, my boss Jean-Paul keeps the radio on. It's one of those top 40 stations, so now I know all the words to all the cool songs. Literally, all the words. After one day. The playlist repeats a lot.

Something I have already learned is that if I ever start my own business, I will hire a few people to work for me right away. I understand why Jean-Paul hired an inept intern; it gets really lonely just staring at a computer by yourself all day. He left me alone for about an hour, and I can't say how excited I was when a delivery guy showed up. I think I made him uncomfortable with my enthusiasm. Jean-Paul starts work before I do, doesn't take a lunch, and finishes at least an hour after I do. He's single, and doesn't seem to have any evening plans ever. If I had to choose between his job and selling at the GAP, it would be a close call. I don't know how he does it, and I hope I never have to. It's not the hours, but the lack of company is depressing.

Despite the mental exhaustion/ennui, I'm really glad to be doing this internship. I think that I've already learned a lot, and I'm getting three months to see what I like (or don't like) about work environments and this line of work. Plus I really like those chocolate marshmallow bear candies.

Shoe Scene

I've been tracking which shoes I like to wear, and I've come to the conclusion that the majority of the time I like ballet flats. They're basically my favorite thing. So I figured hey, why not buy a pair that costs more than $20? Vogue wrote a rave review of Repetto, which I've been against since they put their shoes in a bin, but I thought maybe I could get past this and go try on a pair at the store. The display in the window is gorgeous, replete with tutus and diamonds. The 14-year-old inside of me was thrilled. I tried on a pair that I really liked for the low, low price of $210. What a bargain! I went to Galleries Lafayette to see if I could get them for less, and they were exactly the same price. However, Bloch is now making ballet flats also. Bloch, for me, evokes memories of leather wingtip tap shoes and jazz boots. At Ballet Arts, we weren't allowed to wear their pointe shoes because the shank wasn't hard enough (read: they weren't painful enough). As L pointed out, they definitely know how to make shoes. Their ballet flats have a split heel, and a cushion on the heel for comfort. The salesgirl was telling me that they're replacing Repetto in London as the new hip ballet flat. At $120 in the US and $150 in France, they are a (relative) bargain. I may be a little too stingy for this, but it is giving me pause for thought, anyway. Moreover, it seems like a brilliant move to expand a dance shoe company to do street shoes as well. It has to be easier to make regular shoes, right? Plus you already have a customer base. Hmm...

Speaking of expanding into the shoe business, some of the new Adidas are using the Goodyear tire material. This reminds me of a story my grandpa tells about some kid blowing their money on a pair of shoes that didn't fit, and then having to repair the hole that was born in one of them with the remains of some tires. Who knew that it would be cool someday?

The leather on the black heels that I bought on sale marked down from the $100 range are obviously kind of crappy, as there is already a hole in the leather and I haven't worn them more then around my room. I hate French prices.

In other news, I got a "yes" from VV (name edited), the marketing firm. Apparently I got this "yes" four days ago in rapid French. I wonder if they would take it back if they knew that I didn't know what they were saying. I'm waiting on a response from a more impressive one, but if they don't take then I'm going for the former. Either way, I'm definitely working for a marketing firm, which is really cool because I don't have to be a brand slave. Hurrah! Liberty!

And now I have to go write a paper about American Liberalism in order to create the appearance that I read a whole book, not just the first three out of nine chapters. I think the best way to do this is to find quotes near the middle and end and make sure I work them in. After that I'm done with school and can pack for Berlin tomorrow!

Yes, I am aware that my English is getting progressively worse.

The Hard Sell

I went to Etam yesterday, which is basically just a middle-class chain store that sells t-shirts, lingerie, etc. They are obviously trying some American sales tactics handed down from upper management right now. In the States I think we're used to the rhetoric of optimism, like "it takes three 'no's to get a 'yes'!" (By the way, this is literally a rule at Victoria's Secret. You have to hear 'no' three times when selling the credit card before you're allowed to stop asking). Normally, these selling suggestions are taken with a grain of salt. It's understood, like "nothing's impossible", that you only have to be half-serious about it. These strategies, however, aren't ingrained in French culture like they are in our own. So when I went came out of the fitting rooms after trying on a t-shirt that didn't fit, the salesgirl started an argument with me concerning what I wanted from a t-shirt. Literally, we argued. It was crazy. It started out as a series of questions like "what don't you like about the product?" and showing me other t-shirts, which was such a practiced sales technique for such a socially inept girl that there's no way she came up with it by herself. This quickly degenerated into her raising her voice at me telling saying that the neckline is what I'm looking for, and me yelling back that it wasn't wide enough. The cash register girl decided to use flattery instead of intimidation. She practiced her "suggestive selling" by saying that the shirt that I found would look good with a necklace. "I know you like necklaces because you're wearing one!" When I said no, she kept sucking up to me. "I think you might have just the littlest bit of an accent, are you, possibly, not French?" Fuck off. I know I have the biggest accent ever. Seriously. Anyway, it was pretty unsettling to have such an American experience in a French store.

In job news, I've had two more interviews and another tomorrow. The first one was with Martin Margiela, who is known as the "JD Salinger of fashion" for being...not known. He refuses to speak to the press and doesn't come out after his shows. My job would be to talk to the English-speaking press for him. This is a big one, and paid. But I haven't heard back yet. The second one was with a guy who runs his own marketing firm; I'd be the right-hand girl. It's much less prestigious, but could be more learning. Tomorrow I'm going in for another interview with a bigger marketing firm.

I'm very tired of job interviews. And writing. I'm ready for vacation. Will write more once it commences.

Tu Speak Franglais?

I was in the elevator with this guy today who was singing a song, and then he stopped and said "Je sing". I thought that this was a cute little mix of English and French, so I giggled a little. Then I looked down and noticed that his knees and hands were bloody. He actually said "Je sang", which means "I'm bleeding". Whoa.

I'm eating a whole chicken by myself that I bought for $7.50 USD. It's really medieval-looking since I don't really have any plates or knives or anything. But what a bargain! So far it's lasted me two meals, and I've barely even begun.

Reading a book about the history of the word liberalism would be boring in any language, but at least it would go faster in English. I'm in the middle of Chapter 2, and only got through Chapter 1 after bribing myself with naps, chocolate, and hummus. At the end of Chapter 2, I get a Snickers bar! On the plus side, I finished my paper. Early. This is the first time that this has happened to me since maybe high school, but possibly middle school or never.

On a scarier note, an American girl was violently raped in our dorm last night. Another girl in my program heard her being thrown against the wall and screaming for help. Part of me wants to go buy pepper spray, but another part wants to go for a gun. But this probably isn't legal in France.

Procrastination

Having a Paper Due on Monday Inspires Me To:
-Sweep my floor
-Organize my papers
-File my nails
-Write emails
-Re-fold my clothes
-Write poetry
-Make dance mixes
-Dance to dance mixes
-Study grammar
-Grocery shop

What is missing from this list?

Frigo

I got a fridge! It was the best possible situation. I put up a little poster ("Do you have a fridge? I want it! Contact Marina. Price Negotiable.") The copy isn't winning any awards, but it was on purple paper, which was a nice touch. The poster prompted this man in my foyer who is in love with me to get his friend to give me his fridge for free. The friend just came by and asked, "Do you want a fridge?" I said yes, but then he walked away, so I didn't think much of it. Then at 2:30 AM I heard something being dragged down the hall, followed by heavy knocking on my door. It was...the refrigerator! Hurray!

Hot Pockets!

I bought Hot Pockets today. They were delicious. I also made up a French jingle for them, but I can't really express how it goes in words.

Broken Social Scene is coming to Paris, and I was kind of excited so I started listening to all of their songs on shuffle. Then I realized that I might now even like them that much. I think I might just like it when they sample that guy yelling "it was my town!" This was a disconcerting realization. I'm going to keep trying though, maybe I'll change back and like them again.

I'm going to Barcelona tomorrow! I've been looking at websites, and it looks like there's nothing to do except drink and eat. Which is kind of exactly all I want to do right now, anyway.

I think people are being more responsive to me in the dorm recently. Probably because I don't get a look of terror in my eyes when people speak French anymore. Another girl in my program A was telling me she had a point recently where she completely came to peace with her culture shock. I don't think that I've had a single moment, but maybe I'm easing in.

Bienvenue!

I came home to my dorm room today and found a note taped to my door handle. On it there was an anthropomorphized cartoon condom smiling with arms outstretched (as if to suggest it wanted a hug). Above the condom was the word "Bienvenue" with a heart between the "Bien" and the "venue". The goal of this note was to try to get me to go to an event for the welcoming of new residents/AIDS awareness. I like these two things, but rolling it all into one event strikes me as lazy if not suspicious. What kind of welcome do these people have in mind? I had every intention of abstaining from this event, but the only place the wifi works is the room in which it was held. I huddled in the corner throughout the beginning, which consisted of a video game where you operate a condom swimming in a sea with eggs and AIDS, and some B music videos with guys singing soulfully about AIDS. I did not feel welcomed, nor did I learn anything about AIDS. It was funny that they put AIDS and children in the same group for the video game, though.

I did a presentation today that went over really badly. Like, really badly. But one of the things I learned while preparing for it was that the symbol for the socialist party here is a hand holding a rose in old-timey style. It looks uncannily like the part in Beauty and the Beast where the old woman is holding the rose (in the stained glass intro). Which is set in France. Here comes the deconstruction: the old lady represents socialism, when the beast (a right winger) refuses to recognize the beauty of charity he is forced to live as an unfortunate person/animal. The rose (socialism) can save him only if he learns how to be self-sufficient. Thus, socialism is not a hand-out, but a hand-up. Once he finally learns self-sufficiency/falls in love, he is free of dependency on the rose. Socialism saved him only because he saved himself. Ugh, I'm making myself nauseous.

I have an idea for a blog called "deconstruction". The tag line is "sucking fun out of life like Dracula sucked blood out of Lucy (BLOOD symbolizes SEXUAL INNOCENCE)". Basically it would just be about the deconstructions of things that people are coming up with all the time. I'm not really going to do this one, so feel free to steal the awesome idea.

MOT DU JOUR: VOISINS (Neighbors)

My across-the-hall neighbors had a scary fight in an African language last night. There was slapping, crying, and yelling that all lasted several hours. This isn’t unusual, but it was a little more prolonged and they guy was crying a lot louder than he normally does. It’s hard to write a French paper in these conditions, but I did it anyway. I didn’t, however, write a good French paper. Translation of the introduction:

In every democratic country, there are differences of opinion among the citizens. This is the nature of democratic society ; different ideas exist because people are different. Extreme political parties are a natural result, sometimes they have good intentions, but sometimes extreme violent tendencies also exist. In France, there is a problem with the extreme right which still exists. French history includes violent dictatorships against it’s citizens. This history doesn’t stop the people who support the extreme right. What are the origins of this threat to France ? We can follow the modern history of the extreme right. It starts with the Dreyfus affair, when an innocent man was accused of committing a crime simply because he was Jewish. In the 1940s, the Vichy regime suppressed the people. The threat of the extreme right is still evident, in 2002 Le Pen won 16% of the vote. However, the threat is in a different form every time it arrives. With the Dreyfus affair, the church threatened justice. The Vichy regime was a dictatorship. Finally, many citizens like Le Pen; he was a candidate as a result of elections. The forms are different, but the threat is the same, the extreme right can destroy liberty.

The worrisome thing is what if I really am this dumb?

Legal age of marriage in France: men must be 18, women, 15. Whoa. PS and I played a game last night that involved guessing the legal age of consensual sex in different states, and which states don’t allow gay sex (as of 2001). Hilariously, Massachusetts was on that list.

What ever happened to “study abroad is for parties”? I’m in school every day from 9-4 or 9-6, and then I have homework. This is not a party. But sometimes when I do homework by myself I turn on music and call it a “homework party” for fun. That trick doesn’t always work on me, though. I’m supposed to be having a homework party right now, but I had to take a break because it involved practicing a speech with lots of numbers in it. Also, I’ll bet I’m driving my quiet next-door neighbor crazy.

I’m looking for a summer internship. This is going okay. If none of the places I’m applying to hire me, I think I will send letters to companies asking them to let me dog their heels for free. One application is due on Saturday, so I need to update my resume. The problem is that I don’t know what I’m doing for an internship here, but I think my resume would look way cooler with whatever internship I’m doing listed. Another problem is that I have to take stupid math and science at stupid summer school this stupid summer. And I need to make some dollars. Mrrgh. Maybe just volunteer somewhere instead?

Lying

After two weeks of living in this foyer, it's become clear to N and I that it's super overpriced ($750/month) for a place without a refrigerator or a decent kitchen. So we've been apartment searching, and came across a little place in a better part of town with a real kitchen and utilities included for much less ($525/month). Plus we can have internet in our rooms, and we won't have to buy dinner every night. I filled out the application, which included the question of "religion". Seriously? N wanted to say atheist, and I was torn between Jewish or some kind of Christian. It's in the Jewish quarter, but there's tons of anti-semitism in France, so I wasn't sure what they were looking for. Also there are a ton of Catholics here, but I'm not sure how protestants feel about them. I decided to go with "Christian" and not specify. Now that I'm thinking about it I'm pretty sure the guy was Christian because the email said "God bless" a lot and I don't think a serious Jew would write "God". Good.

I'm going to Barcelona next weekend!

I pulled a tendon in my foot by wearing high heels. I'm not sure how this is possible, but it really hurts. Ouch.

I kind of hate arm hair. I mean, I'm not judging you for having it, but it's not for me. I use this depilatory in the US, so I bought the same one over here, but the French one is way better. The packaging is more efficient and environmentally friendly (the US one is in a shaving cream can, over here it's like a huge thing of toothpaste.) Also, the US one comes with this thing that's supposed to look like a razor to get it off, but there's no way to spread it on except to awkwardly use your finger. In France, there's actually a little wavy piece of plastic with a flat end, so you can use the same thing to put it on and take it off. Veet, why are you holding out on us Americans? I kind of want to buy tons of it and then sell it or something. Just kidding, that would be totally dumb.

More on the Prada interview: My resume is full of kind of ridiculous things. Like high school choir. So the guy was like "you sing?" and I was like, "what? No!" Great. Also knew how to say "debate club" but not "philosophy discussion club" for the french translation of my CV, so I just changed it. I feel like they're both equally irrelevant and an equivalent amount of work. But he asked me to explain exactly what the deal was with political debate club, and I lied so well. I made up a whole thing about how there are democrats and republicans and we take turns leading discussions...it was awesome. The weird thing is that it didn't feel any more insincere than the rest of the interview, or any other job interview I've ever done. Hmm.

I love omelettes and pastries. So do French people. This has worked out well for me.

Mauvaise Humeur

So after checking with a few stores and painstakingly reading French technical explanations, I came to realize that it’s impossible to get internet without a telephone line. The exception is for people who have a cell phone plan with SFR. Hey, I have a plan with them! But wait, you also need a French bank account. Well, these are the breaks. Break it up, break it up, break it up, break down.

Someone responded to my poster, which read (in French) “Do you have a place on the wifi system? I’ll pay you forty euro for your place!” It was kind of awesome, because the guy who responded actually spoke worse French than me. We agreed to go in and officially make the switch on Monday, but since I got to the dorm first I went to check with the office about if this was all kosher. Their response? They’ve had a spot on the wifi system, so they can set me up right away. Thanks for letting me know, guys. Obviously the waiting list is a joke.

But there’s more. The guy didn’t know how to register Macs, and he refused to help under the guise that his English wasn’t good enough. I switched the language of my computer to French, but he still refused. So I basically just sat down in his office and stared at him until he got a girl to register my computer on the system. I was kind of mad that he implied that my French was a barrier in helping me, so I spoke only French for the entire process thereafter. To compensate for embarrassment over the fact that he can’t do his job, he refused to speak French to me also. So we were both at a linguistic disadvantage that lead to a lot of misunderstandings. He kept telling me to type “e”, which in French means “I”. This is only one example.

And hey, guess what doesn’t work today? Yeah. The wifi. I’m typing this at home on word, and looking forward to a six dollar martini in exchange for transportation to the information super highway.

I had an interview with Prada today. The guy literally told me that I would be considered to be a salesperson, but one who wasn’t paid. They I was like, “umm, can I have money?” and he was like, “do you want money?” Seriously? Anyway, it looks kind of terrible. So unless they offer me some sweet remuneration, I think I’m going to pass. Besides, I don’t think I can deal with three more months of people saying “like the movie!” That movie wasn’t even about Prada, guys.

Ethics of Display

Let me start by saying a lot has happened since I wrote that first one. Most importantly for the purposes of this blog, I came to discover over a period of days that I can't get internet. Why? I'll tell you!

First of all, when I arrived on Saturday the director told me that I could sign up for wifi on Sunday at 10:00 AM. I rushed downstairs at that time only to find that this isn't possible. Also, the director openly hates me. Coincidence? On Sunday they told me that I had to go to an office on Monday at a certain time, and I hurried home after school to make the hours. They told me that it's not possible to get internet because there are only 40 spots for wifi. I had to ask a couple more questions before they would even tell me that there's a waiting list. I'm number three on it. Great! I tried to sign up for internet in my room, but you need to have a phone line to do that. I don't have a phone line. I'm thinking I'll use my American capitalist skills and make a poster saying something like "I'll pay you forty euros for your spot on the wifi system." We'll see how that goes.

I went to the Galleries Lafayette today (a department store), and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I got kind of mad though, because Repetto put their shoes on sale in a bin. For those of you who don't know, Vogue did a story on Repetto recently. Kate Moss may have started the trend, but the VIPs wear them. The sale shoes were between $80-$160. I think this merits a shelf. I started to think about why this bothers me, and I came to two conclusions. 1. They're more likely to get scuffed up in a bin, and 2. you should respect the aesthetic value of what you're selling enough to display it properly. Clothes are about aesthetics and function, and if you're buying $100 shoes, you probably care about the aesthetics at least as much as the function. They should be beautiful from the time you see them on the rack forward. This benefits the customer (who will feel happy about their history with the garment), the business (a good display generates business), and the passerby. "I remember the when I first saw these shoes, in a bin of only right shoes, beneath twenty others. It was magical. It made me want to shell out $160." This doesn't work. I don't know if repetto is trying to give a big fuck you to the man or what, but it upset me.

I have to buy a drink every time I want to use the internet. This session is costing me $6.00 for a gross martini. Savor every word.

Premier Post!

Bonjour à tous! As I’m writing, Sunday morning is off to a slow start outside my window in Paris. Not a lot of churchgoers apparently; the traffic is pretty slow and nothing’s open yet.

I got here yesterday morning after a long series of flights in. The first one was a close call. I rushed through security because I was late and got on the plane with about five minutes to spare. I started the crossword in the magazine, and I thought I’d get a head start on the electronic devices warning by turning off my cell phone before the announcement. I was fumbling through my bag for it, and then I thought it might be in my coat pocket. My coat. Security checkpoint. Shit.

I ran up to the stewardess, who made me talk to the gate attendant, who let me off the plane but told me I probably wouldn’t make it back. I yelled something incoherent about my boyfriend and Christmas as I began to sprint through the entire airport. I mean that literally. I was at the gate farthest away from security. I grabbed my coat from a bin and ran back to the attendant who said disappointedly that she thought I wouldn’t make it. Thanks for that vote of confidence. But anyway, it turns out that I can run a fair distance pretty quickly. This may come in useful some day, but hopefully won’t because I can’t really imagine a good situation that involves running like hell. Also, it burns my lungs.

The flights were otherwise unremarkable, except for the fact that I sat next to someone on the long stretch reading a book called “Chinese Sexual Astrology”. If Chinese astrology is what they give you on placemats, then I guess it’s about how the different animals can or cannot have sex with each other. This creates a funny mental image. Here are some mix and match ideas: monkey, tiger, rabbit, horse.

One of the inflight movies was Ratatouille; I saw the last fifteen minutes. The lack of buildup didn’t stop me from crying at the end. That was super embarrassing. But I don’t think the sexual astrologist noticed, thank God.

The airport in France gives out smarte cartes for free. It was awesome.

On the taxi into town April March was on the radio. That couldn’t have been more perfect for me.

The dorm is pretty sweet, except that there’s no wifi in the room. So basically I’m going to have go down to the first floor every time I need internet. Also, I can’t even configure it until Monday. On the plus side, I have my own bathroom complete with shower.

There’s a really creepy guy down the hall from me. Why is it that everyone who is friendly is out for something? He invited me to dinner with his friend, which was actually really good, except that he was blasting really bad music complete with video. “Do you want to dance like that?” Umm, no. Also, he wouldn’t stop knocking on my door at 1:30 AM last night and then tried to open the door. I think we need to have a talk. I might also need to have a talk with the administration if this keeps going. Bienvenue à France!