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Tuesday, January 19, 2010

leave it to the frogs...

Sigh. So as you probably know I did a joint master's degree program which involved studying in France and many wonderful French classmates. I loved my time in France and I love my French friends and their families and all the wonderful French people I met. I found that the stereotype of snobby French people was ridiculous and that French people who can speak English LOVE to practice their English.

Which is why I find it particularly distressing that this is coming from French minister in charge of humanitarian relief in Haiti:

Aid organisations and the UN are struggling to get the flood of aid to those who needed it. A French Government minister accused the US of ''occupying'' Haiti after thousands of American troops entered the country to take charge of security and the distribution of aid.

I mean really? Really??? Do you, French dude, really want to go there? With Haiti of all places?

This tragedy has once again become a shining example of American compassion and exceptionalism. Once again America is the biggest presence, donating the most money, volunteers, medicine, food, water...pretty much everything. And that asshat as the gall to accuse us of wanting to "occupy" Haiti? Funny, the Haitian people don't seem to mind our presence there. In fact, they seem to be quite welcoming of the US soldiers and marines who are there, maybe because unlike this douchebag they are smart enough to know that the Americans are there to help.

Ugh. In case you can't tell, I'm pissed.

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Sunday, October 19, 2008

american men are not this comfortable with their sexuality, which is not necessarily a bad thing in my book

Oh, hello. Feeling much better now, thank you after finally being able to sleep three nights in a row! Woot, woot. I've been having some dreams that can only be described as stressful (but not quite nightmares) involving numbers and driving (which I haven't done in nearly a year now) but I'm just grateful that I've been able to sleep in solid three hour chunks.

Anyway, I'm finally starting to feel coherent enough to write about the second part of my Asia trip, also known as The Part After Paul Arrived in Taipei.

Possibly the most entertaining part of the entire trip was when Paul and I decided to check out the club scene in Taipei (Why? I'm not entirely sure, since we've lived a block away from one of the more popular clubs in SF for a year and a half and have been there exactly once). On my friend Jesse's recommendation we checked out Luxy, apparently the "hottest" club in Taiwan right now (and, as luck would have it, was a quick 20-minute walk from my grandparents' apartment).

Paul still doesn't believe this happened because he just happened to be off buying himself a cigar at the time, but I swear to you it did.

Taiwan's club scene officially out-gayed the French club scene and this is how:

So I sat there, amused by the fact that the rest of the world seems to be somewhat rhythmically challenged, Paul was off searching for a cigar (I HATE that you can smoke inside clubs in other countries, hate) and a Redb*ll/vodka, when suddenly I saw something that made me rub my eyes and wonder exactly what sort of club we were in.

Two well-muscled guys had hopped on stage - well Guy #1 was on stage and Guy #2 was standing on the step right in front of him. Guy #2 was facing Guy #1. Then Guy #2 proceeds to slowly unbutton Guy #1's shirt, periodically turning around towards the crowd and lifting his arms up and down as if to get people to cheer. Eventually Guy #1's shirt is completely off (thanks to the efforts of Guy #2) and then Guy #2 jumps on stage rips off his own wife-beater and the two of them proceed to cheer and shout...

Now I wouldn't have been the least bit shocked by this (I mean, c'mon I live in San Francisco) except that it did not appear that the two guys were actually gay...I'm pretty sure they were promoters trying to pump the crowd up because I recognized at least one of the guys from the video that the club had looping behind the DJ's. It didn't appear like they were attracted to each other, more like they were doing this to excite the crowd? I don't know, I was extremely confused and could feel my mouth hanging open and my face contorted into a perplexed expression. I looked around and everyone else seemed to be reacting as though it was business as usual.

I thought it was weird in France when guys would push girls off the little stages so they could dance up there themselves (which by the way, I also saw this occur in Taiwan), but this was just way beyond anything I saw in the French club.

So there you have it, Taiwan has officially out-gayed France. Not an easy feat.

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Saturday, March 15, 2008


A couple days ago I told Paul that I've really been missing authentic French food lately.

This morning, he is literally forcing me to watch a show all about a French restaurant that totally reminds me of one of the cafe's Joe, Punhea and I would eat at after class on our way home. Grr...

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Friday, February 22, 2008

if you can't beat em....

I was just talking to MM, a classmate from France (one of my better friends on that side of the pond owing to the fact that he, like myself, is an anal retentive super-nerd) who works at Soc*iete Ge*neral in Paris and that little turd gets NINE weeks of vacation!

If Barack Obama wins in November I am going to have to investigate what it takes to become French, because dude! If America is going to be socialist anyway I might as well be getting nine weeks of vacation and spending long weekends (thirteen national holidays and all) in the south of France. I will miss my chili cheese fries and adult-size soda cups, but I will comfort myself with hot, crispy croissants and cheap Bordeaux.

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Wednesday, November 21, 2007

it's nice hearing french again

I gmail-chatted with one of my French classmates this afternoon (early close! wahoo!!) and he sent me this video of him sticking a "Stop the strike" sticker on an SNCF worker...who is presumably on strike.

Now that is a Frenchman after my own heart.


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Thursday, July 12, 2007

As if I really needed another reason to hate Tony Parker

While I was in France I noticed some posters of Tony Parker plastered all over our street. I asked one of my French friends about them and she rolled her eyes and said that he was releasing an album. And I quote (try to imagine the French accent), "He thinks he can rap."

A few other people seemed to share the sentiment - the French were in agreement, Tony Parker was getting annoying. They told me ever since he got engaged (now married) to Eva Longoria he had become too smug. For them. The French. Let that sink in for a minute. He got. Too smug. For the French.

A quick disclaimer: I hate Tony Parker. Seeing as how I am not French, he has always been too smug for me. Kind of like Kobe Bryant.

Anyway, I was partaking of my guilty pleasure this morning when I saw this. It definitely reminds me of the other French rap music videos I saw while I was there...Let's just say French music videos (especially their "eep-op" videos) can be odd. I vaguely remember one that involved a midget. A lot of them seem to be slow and broody and kind of lame. It totally makes sense that 95% of the music French people actually listen to is American music. Often American music from eight years ago, but American music nonetheless.

By the way, TP and his buddy dancing around in tank tops at the end makes me giggle.

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

A long rambling essay about what I thought of the French election

I've been meaning to write about the recent French election since I was (sort of) there to witness France's amazing feat of not flushing itself down the toilet. At lunch with one of my professor's just before the final election he told us that he hoped France would do the right thing (translation: Vote for Sarko!) but that French people have a tendency to be a bit illogical. So he was worried. And considering moving his business out of the country if heaven forbid that nutbag socialist Sego were to win. I'm putting words in his mouth with the nutbag socialist comment but I'm pretty sure that's what he wanted to say.

In the end it wasn't really surprising that Sarko (we Americans became very fond of the "Sarko vs. Sego" terminology - it made the election sound like some kind of Godzilla vs. King Kong face off) won. Once it was announced that it would, in fact, be Sego and Sarko in the runoff most French people seemed to indicate that Sarko would most likely win, especially since Bayrou chose not to endorse either candidate (I read/heard somewhere that Sego would have needed nearly all of his votes in order to beat Sarko).

But still, before April 22nd it seemed like there was a fairly decent chance that France could end up with a truly whacked out socialist President. I only met one person who really sounded like he wanted to vote for Sarko. And I still think Sego might have won if not for Sego herself and her whole "I am a mother so you should vote for me" campaign strategy. One of the strangest things to me about French people (and, I assume, Europeans in general) is how completely comfortable they are with the word "socialist." I mean liberals in America won't even admit to being liberals, much less being socialists (which, let's face it, a lot of them are) so it was weird being in a country where people were totally open to admitting, "Yup, I'm voting for the socialist." Maybe it's my American-ness but I am totally not convinced that socialism is not just a hop, step and a skip away from communism. If anything, in my mind, it's more insidious because it pretends to be something else but it will eventually wind up in the same place. Wasn't it Khrushchev who said that the West would become communist in the end because it would creep in slowly?

This is a bit off topic, but I remember before I went to France people were telling me how great it would be for me because it would open me up and make me see how the American way of doing things isn't the only way and blah blah blah. But you know what? You want to know the real, honest to God's truth? While I do love a lot of things about France and do have a newfound affection for French people, I spent a lot of my time in France going, "What the f***?!?" Because so much of the time, their way didn't make any sense. Whatsoever. Like not even a little bit. And honestly, I think it is a lot of the things they do different from America that has them in such deep doo doo right now.

Their social welfare system is completely out of control and one of the main arguments I heard against Sarko (besides "he's a racist" which I don't think is true) is that he actually pointed out the fact that something has to change. Towards the beginning of the semester one of my professor's was talking about how France's economic woes are extremely paradoxical. On the one hand they've got this huge social welfare system that people have grown accustomed to, which you can't take away because people are accustomed to it (this is something America needs to pay attention to) but that you also can't really afford anymore because you've got so many people using (and in some cases, abusing) the system. So you raise taxes on the people who can supposedly afford it (i.e. rich people, businesses). Well rich people, for the most part, didn't get rich by being stupid and ditto for people who are running successful businesses and seeing as how globalization has made it easy for people to pick up and leave one country for another, rich people and businesses are leaving France. In one presentation given by my French classmates we learned that over 1/3 of French people who leave France are executives. Okay, so you have a severely overburdened system and the people who are stuck paying for it are getting sick of being chumps and heading for America (or wherever) leaving the government with the same bills to pay but a lot less people footing the bill. So what does the government do? Raise taxes on whoever's left. Which of course drives more of these rich people/businesses away and so on and so forth until you're left with a giant bubbling mess of who knows what.

Seems pretty hopeless no?

Is there hope for France? Is Sarko that hope? I don't know. Sarko is far from perfect. Not long before the election he made some comment that amounted to capitulating to the Taliban (saying he would withdraw French troops shortly after the Taliban made a statement threatening France if it would not withdraw its troops). So nope, Sarko is definitely not perfect. But is he better than Sego? Uh, yeah. That woman was nuts. I don't know if you guys over here heard about "participative democracy" or not, but if not let me explain it to you: Basically she had no ideas, no real platform, nothing so she thought of this gimmick - you tell me what you want me to do and I'll tell you I'll do it. Let's talk about it. Yup. The sad thing is it almost fooled them into making her their next President. Not to mention the only ideas she DID have were about how to spend more money the government doesn't have.

Am I glad the elections turned out the way they did? Sure, why not. It turned out the best it could under the circumstances I think. And I'm probably a lot happier about it than most French people are since they all were very aware of the fact that most Americans wanted Sarko to win.

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Thursday, April 19, 2007

Home is where my heart is

Next week is my last week of classes in France. And now that things are winding down, it's all becoming very real. In less than a month I will be back in California, in a country where I will be able to order dinner with my words rather than my finger and an exciting game of charades.

Paul asked me today if I would miss Paris. Surprisingly, I'm pretty sure I will. Despite the fact that I'm something of a deaf-mute here, it's begun to feel like home. Not real home, which will always be the city I grew up in, but home the way LA started to feel like home after awhile. Home in the sense that I'm comfortable here, I know my way around, I have my favorite spots. And of course, I will miss my French friends and living with Joe and Poon. Last night the three of us went out for dinner and drinks and talked about how the whole experience would have been very different (and less fun) if we hadn't been able to hang out and explore the city with each other.

So, yes, I will miss Paris. I'll miss the bakeries with the delicious croissants and fresh sandwiches. I'll miss the different flavors of Orangina which come in BIG bottles and is the only thing that is available in larger quantities in France than it is in America. I'll miss the metro and RER which make getting around so convenient. I'll miss walking through St. Michel looking for dinner and (more) drinks. I'll miss so much, but still, I'm excited to be going home.

I miss my family, I miss Paul and I miss my cat. I miss Mexican food and my favorite Chinese dish from the restaurant down the street from my parents house. I miss America. I miss California. And even though I will miss France, it's definitely time to go home because it's going to start getting muggy here soon and the tourists are coming out in full force making it a pain to get around.

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Drink red wine so you won't die

My heart started to hurt on Sunday night. And, no, I don't mean in some metaphorical, "my heart is breaking" way, I mean that I was having awful, stabbing chest pain and I seriously thought I was in the throes of heart failure or something along those lines.

Even though it really didn't feel like heartburn (the pain was very localized and too high in my chest) I convinced myself it was most likely just heartburn and went to bed thinking it would be gone by morning. No such luck. I woke up with the same stabbing in my chest and by dinnertime I was a little bit scared that I was going to, oh, I don't know, die? But I went out to Le Petite Marche with Joe, Joe's mom and aunt and Poon anyway (I can't resist those damn passion fruit creme brulee's).

Two (okay, maybe three...or four) glasses of red wine later? Chest pain gone. And not just because I was drunk because, really, I wasn't that drunk and besides it's still gone and I'm certainly not drunk anymore. So all that "red wine is good for your heart" isn't just a load of hooey.

My new theory is that my heart was missing red wine because I hadn't had any since my single glass at Louis Vins last Wednesday (five whole days ago) and it was DEMANDING that it be given some. Because you know, red wine nourishes your heart and all that good stuff. And here in France where wine is literally cheaper than soda, my heart has gotten quite accustomed to, uh, being "nourished" on a regular basis.

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Sunday, March 04, 2007

Explaining France Part 1

Ever since I moved here, I've been trying to describe France to a lot of folks who have perhaps visited but never actually resided in this fine country. It's a hard thing to do, really, because although France is very similar to America in a lot of ways, it's also unbelievably different. Some of my friends actually do not believe what I have to say about France, so I tell them, spend a couple months here yourself and you will see.

The best description I've come up with so far is that France is like a retarded America with prettier buildings, better food and skinnier people. "A retarded America" sounds pretty harsh, I know, but that's the only way I can describe a country that seems to collectively lost its common sense. I'll get into that later on in the post though, first let me talk about some myths/thoughts Americans seem to have about France.

Something I learned rather quickly upon landing here in France, is that contrary to popular (American) belief, the French do not hate America, Americans or speaking English. Now maybe it's only because I can't understand most of what is said to me in French, but people here seem decent enough and pleasant, altough you will get some rude stares in the subway for speaking loud, American English. And like I said, maybe I'd feel completely differently about this if I could actually understand what is being said to me in French, but I assume that if there's no scowl that they're not being dicks. They could be calling me a capitalist American pig with a smile on their face, but I give them the benefit of the doubt. So Myth #1 was quickly dispelled - the French do not hate America/Americans/speaking English (although a lot of them really can't speak English at all, but hey I can't speak French so who am I to judge).

Now that we've established that the French do not hate America, I feel I should qualify that statement by saying even though they do not dislike America, they still think that they are better than Americans in almost every possible way. They think their culture is superior to ours. I'll give them the food and the architecture and preserving history bit, but as for everything else? No-freaking-way. And I find it a bit silly on their part too since everywhere you go in Paris you will find MacDo's (McDonald's), KFC, Pizza Hut, Starbucks and a whole slew of other very American stores. And although the French will try very hard to convince you that only tourists go into MacDo's, step into one yourself and you will undoubtedly find yourself surrounded by very typically French people. In fact, a lot of the people who work in the American fast food chains in Paris don't even speak English so I find it hard to believe that only tourists go to those places.

Another thing I've noticed that always strikes me as odd is that everywhere you go you will hear American pop music. I'm not sure what the French would listen to if they weren't listening to six-month old American "eep-op" (hip-hop) because that's seriously all you hear. Justin Timberlake, Snoop Dogg, P-Diddy and the like are all incredibly popular. So, again, not sure where they get off being snobby about their supposedly superior culture.

The worst part of it all, is that their "thugs" have taken the worst part of American culture, the ghetto hip hop culture, and somehow managed to make it even more pathetic and laughable. I really didn't think that was possible but go hang out at Chatelet for 10 minutes and you'll see exactly what I mean. My roommate Joe likes to call it "hip-hop gone wrong" and it is, it really is. Somehow they made "ghetto" look really homosexual on top of looking incredibly stupid.

Also, the whole "French are rude" thing? I don't know if it's "rude" per-se or just very different from the kind of politeness we're used to in America. For example, here it seems perfectly socially acceptable to let your dog take a huge dump in the middle of the sidewalk and then continue on your merry way without picking it up. Every time I see this I have to suppress my gut reaction to yell after them, "Are you planning on picking that up?" which is certainly what I would do in America.

People here are also just not quite as friendly as in America. They think Americans are odd because we smile when we say "Bon Soir" as we pass each other in the stairway. It's just not how the French do things. They're not a very expressive people. And to them it's not "rude" when the information desk man looks bored and annoyed at your question, it's simply how things are done here. I have to say, that's one thing I don't like very much about France, I prefer my information desk people to be smiling and actually, um, helpful?

I think I will have to continue on with this post (and explaining my rationale behind the "retarded America" statement) at a later time because well...the toilet beckons. Yup, still suffering from the cacas. And school starts again on Tuesday. All. Day. Long.

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Thursday, March 01, 2007

Those "truth-ers" would have their panties in a bunch

So I'm in a complain-y mood tonight, perhaps due to the fact that I apparently have some kind of stomach bug that sends me to the bathroom every hour on the hour. Even though this has been going on since about Monday or so, for some odd reason I still keep agreeing to go out to happy hours and Mexican/Brazilian food.

Onto the complaining, one of the most upsetting things about living in France, as someone who comes from California, is the smoking. Every-freaking-where. I feel like I'm inhaling so much smoke that I might as well light up myself, except I already feel so dizzy and nauseated by everyone else's cigarettes that I'd probably just keel over or vomit into my plate if I did.

Seriously, it feels like these people are just not capable of going more than 5 minutes without a cigarette. You will see people getting onto the train taking the last puff of their cigarette as though they are going to have to hold their breath for fifteen minutes and actually exhaling all their smoke INTO the train after the doors have closed. You will then see that same person (five minutes later) standing right next to the door with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other eagerly anticipating the moment the train doors open so that they can light up even before they've actually completely exited the train.

Then there are the people who seem to have no qualms lighting up around anyone. Babies? No problem. Pregnant women? No problem. The only thing I haven't seen yet is someone light up around someone breathing off an air tank. But since I haven't seen anyone strolling around Paris with an air tank yet that's really not saying much. I wonder what the incidence of lung cancer is in this country?

Besides the fact that I am probably considerably shortening my life everytime I step into a bar, club, restaurant or cafe, the other irritating thing is how all of my clothes smell like cigarettes. And my hair constantly reeks of cigarettes. Here's a hint for any girls who might be planning on visiting/living in France, never, EVER wash your hair before going to a bar/club/cafe/restaurant unless you enjoy shampooing twice in one day. If you like to take your showers in the morning, bring a shower cap.

This city may be full of delicious foods but there are so many disgusting smells to go with...week-old urine, pungent body odor and smoke, smoke and more smoke. Yech.

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Saturday, February 24, 2007

Girly-men for real

I think I've alluded to the fact that, at least to me, living in France is like living in another dimension. One that is sort of similar to the US except that the whole country has lost its collective ability to reason, and the men are soft and womanly. Even the cops. And the "thugs" carry pink (yes, bright pink) razor phones and wear pink (emphasis: pink) LV baseball caps.

Everything I thought about Frenchmen before I lived in France...well let's just say now I have concrete examples of why I believe what I believe about them.

Hm, I was all set to write out a long post about this with lots of side-splitting examples but I think I'll have to save it for some other time. I just haven't been feeling *it* lately (whatever it is that makes me want to blog).

Au revoir, a demain perhaps?

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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

It's true, you get what you pay for

So um, remember that time I was on hold "forever" with the City of Los Angeles Department of Public Works?

Try two hours, seventeen minutes, forty-five seconds and counting.

French Social Security rules.


I'm sorry for every mean thing I've ever said about Blue Cross because at least they answered their damn phone.

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Sunday, February 18, 2007

A beautiful city

I'm coming up on the halfway point of my time here in Paris. Strange how quickly time passes. And at the same time, how slowly.

People ask me how I like it here and I usually don't know how to answer. Like everything else in life there are good things and bad things. I like the sandwiches on every corner and the deliciously fresh bread. I like wandering into areas that look so untouched by time that you feel as though you've walked into another era. I like how the French love to celebrate, everything! I like not needing a car or ever having to drive.

And what about what I don't like? People here smell bad. I'm not kidding. Women, men, whatever. You'll walk past a couple ladies in McDonald's and suddenly the disgusting smell of body odor will fill your nostrils. Sometimes the trains smell like urine and the metro stations smell like poo. I don't like how people here don't respect the American "bubble" and tend to breathe down your neck in checkout lines or just wherever.

Also, growing up in California I always heard people telling me how the downside of California is no seasons. Uh. Seasons? So overrated, in my humble opinion anyway. I'm living through my first real winter and I hope to God I never have to go through another one. What's so great about having to bundle up only to start sweating profusely the second you step into any store or the metro station? Beats the hell out of me. I'm happy in my year-round flip flops weather thank you very much. And why the hell do they always crank the heat up so high when they know people are going to be wearing thermals and heavy coats, etc. This is why I haven't wanted to do any shopping here - the stores are packed and the lights are ridiculously bright and the heat is always turned all the way up. My roommates joke about how good I've gotten at stripping my layers off while riding down the metro escalator.

Truthfully though, I do like it in France. It's like living in another dimension, one that is similar to America but just a bit off. I think I will be happy to go home though, even though I will probably also miss Paris. So far it's been everything I hoped and more.

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Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Sometimes I look up and it's like...holy crap I live in PARIS

For instance, when I poke my head out of a metro hole and see this...

Or this...("this" being the Champs Elysee)

Oh, oh, and here's one of my favorites...the Eiffel Tower when it lights up at night (picture taken near La Defense)

Or how about when you're looking for a creperie and you stumble across L'Opera instead?

Here's me and Punhea being goofy fobs...

And then there are the nights you get drunk in the Latin Quarter and stumble across some guy painting Che blindfolded. Paris...go figure!

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Friday, January 12, 2007

And it was good.

I should have something to say but for some reason I don't really feel like I do. Two posts back I was complaining like all hell about *having* to come to Paris and I just wanted to say I really appreciate the supportive comments from you guys. I know that you're right, especially about this being a time for me to learn to depend on the Lord first and foremost.

I know that I use Paul as a crutch sometimes because he is right there and tangible and sometimes you just want that physical person to depend on. This is actually something I was thinking about on the plane-ride over - I know that God meant for me to come here, and He doesn't do things without reason so there must be a lesson for me in Paris. I have at least enough faith in Him to believe that. I think it's myself I have the least faith in.

Sometimes I'm not sure why I am so painfully insecure. It doesn't matter how well I did last semester, I'm afraid that somehow I just won't be able to cut it here, that everyone else is smarter than me and I will go home a failure. I'm afraid I won't be able to find a job or an internship. I'm afraid that I won't be able to handle the commute. I don't know why I repeat conversations from earlier in the day over and over in my head at night, searching for clues as to whether or not I said anything anyone could find rude or offensive and make them not like me. I really don't know why I do that.

There was a point in my life when I looked in the mirror and I really hated that person staring back at me. There was definitely a time when the only person I really couldn't stand and could never get away from was myself. I'm much better now, I can tolerate myself for long periods of time and sometimes I even love the person I'm becoming. It's weird because you'd think that a person who is so opinionated and stubborn would be pretty sure of herself, but somehow I manage to be a walking contradiction in almost everything I say, do and feel. I don't even know if that makes sense, but it does to me.

As you can tell from my last post though, I'm doing okay. Maybe better than okay. I miss America but France is treating me well.

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Thursday, January 11, 2007


Hello everyone, don't worry the French haven't killed me yet. In fact, they've been quite nice and hospitable and have been taking excellent care of me. I've discovered that the French aren't rude, they just communicate differently than we Americans. They're also not quite the lefties I thought they would be and I had a sane, reasonable discussion with one of my French friends about the Iraq war even though he's totally against it and I'm obviously support it. It was really quite amazing.

The weather is much better than I was expecting but it's starting to get colder which is not making me a happy camper. I have lots of pictures and stuff but I'm tired and it's late so I'll have to write more later when I have some energy. Sorry y'all (as though you even care =P).


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Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Um, hey.

So, yeah, I lied about the actually writing about something. I'm back to whine about how I don't want to go to France anymore because leaving! California! Is! Scary! Waaaaaaaah!

I mean what was I thinking? I? Am a homebody. A HOMEbody, people! I hate going to the grocery store because the bright lights and crowds make me dizzy and tired and I usually need a nap afterwards. Why am I going to France? And in the winter?

I know that this is supposed to be "no big deal" because a lot of people study abroad for a few months during college and everyone comes home talking about how great it was. But. I don't know. It just feels like a big deal to me for some reason. Suddenly four and a half months sounds like an eternity. Which, I know, it's not.

I guess I'm just afraid I'm not as strong as most people. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Suddenly the thought of being away from all my support systems is really upsetting and I'm homesick before I've even left. Aren't I supposed to be excited or something?


wingless was still breathing at 4:20 PM - 4 comments

Friday, December 29, 2006

Leaving on a jet plane...

Okay, so...I'm freaking out a little bit here. It kind of just hit me that in just over a week I'll be in Paris. Somewhere. But I'm not quite sure where yet because our lease doesn't start until the 9th and I'll be arriving on the 6th. So, um, yeah. That's one thing I'm a little freaked out over.

Another thing is I've been up north in the SF Bay Area all week and it is friggin' cold up here. Yesterday I put on some long underwear my mom bought for me to take to France and my sister just looked at me and shook her head because yes, I know, it's going to be even colder in Paris.

And I'm seriously going to miss my cat. It's hard enough going two or three weeks without seeing her furry little face, four and a half months is just going to suck. The only other American girl in my program has an actual, honest-to-God baby who she's leaving with her parents while she's gone. I have no clue how she's going to do it because if that were me? I'd be a complete sobbing mess just thinking about it. Of course, I'm getting weepy over a cat so maybe I'm not exactly the picture of "strength."

I'm not mentioning missing Paul, because duh! Obviously, I will miss him. But I do think this whole experience is both good and necessary, not because I want "freedom" before we get married, but more because I guess because I have something to prove to myself. I haven't really been totally single since I was in 8th grade and although I've lived by myself before, I can't say I lived a very healthy or responsible lifestyle while on my own. I constantly let food go bad because I was too lazy to cook. I let the laundry pile up because I didn't feel like lugging it down to the laundry room. Dirty dishes would start growing mold until I just threw them away because they were too disgusting to wash. And that's just the short list. I improved a bit living alone in the dorms this past semester but, let's be real about that...I was really only living at the dorms Sunday evening/Monday morning through Thursday afternoon. I only stayed in Turlock for one weekend. The rest of the time I either went home or to LA. And every time I went home for the weekend my mom would send me back to school with an entire cooler packed to the brim with fruits, veggies, and a bunch of Chinese dishes to last me through the week.

I know all of this makes it sound like I am a complete nitwit for even thinking about going to France on my own, without any sort of support system at all there. And maybe I am. But I guess it's too late to do anything about it as the tuition has been paid, the flight has been booked, the apartment rented...not to mention I can't bear the thought of having to explain to people why I am unemployed and not in school rather than studying in Paris.

Alright, I'm going to stop griping now and finish packing for my trip back to Los Angeles. I know I haven't been writing much of anything lately, but I swear, I'm working on something based on a WSJ article Paul sent me yesterday. Wait for it...wait for it...although, knowing me, I wouldn't hold your breath. I'll probably finish writing it, decide it sucks and then delete the whole thing without another word.


wingless was still breathing at 11:32 AM - 2 comments

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