Last week, my computer broke, Emmanuel finally took his TV back, I had a series of awful finals (literature, history, art history, grammar, written comprehension, oral comprehension and finally yesterday, speaking). But now it's all over, I'm celebrating Thanksgiving tonight, seeing my dad Friday, going to London in a week, Oslo four days after that and then going back to Madison, via Chicago, via Paris. I can't complain too much.
Time to go search this whole city for some cranberries! How is it December already, by the way?
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
16.11.08
goddammit, sweetheart
"and if you love somebody, you show it
you learn to open up your arms and let go of it
you don't stay up all night drinking cheap bear
and act like we oughta know it"
This weekend, Jessi forced me into studying for at least eight hours. It was horrible. Let me give you an image of Jessi and me studying. Jessi is sitting on a chair in my room, surrounded by stuff, reading diligently, asking intelligent questions. Taking notes of notes she's already taken. Highlighting. Speaking about Balzac and Baudelaire under her breath.
Then there's me. I'm usually rolling around my bed in a pile of papers which all have doodles covering them from when I was bored in lecture. Or notes to Jessi from when I was bored in lecture. (Examples: "JE SUIS SOO FATIGUEE!" "True/false: I speak better than french people?[false] how do they not get this? Where are we eating? FRENCH = STUPID." "I am going to kill that swedish bitch") One pages features a list of all 50 states which I made when my apartment flooded and I didn't know what else to do other than sit on my bed and try to list all of them...anyway. So I'm laying on my bed, whining to Jessi, pretending to look up useful information, and eating sour patch kids. Every few minutes when she turns away I try to sneak on facebook for a few precious seconds, always keeping a tab with something about Romanticism or whatever open for going back quickly when she looks. You might think I am a horrible student. And I am. But the lame truth about this is that I don't really have to study for my lit final and I know I'm going to do well because I've already done extensive reading on all of the topics we've covered on Wikipedia, in my own time. Or made Emmanuel teach me. Because I'm a loser. Still, I'm really grateful I have her to try and make me work.
The real highlights of the weekend (not studying, actually) were the Sigur Ros concert, to which Ida and I arrived an hour late, the Des Ark concert, to which we arrived two hours early, and all of the beer and Mexican food surrounding both. Des Ark felt like Madison- a shitty warehouse with random pieces of artwork and old furniture sitting around, people smoking pot, the guys at the "bar" selling cans of beer for 1 euro each...everything. It was kind of amazing, actually. And Ida was the perfect companion for both.
I think though, that the best moment of the weekend, musical orgasms aside, was tonight at dinner. Jessi, Siril (who lives above the arctic circle in Norway, just for reference) and I are eating burritos which we miraculously found in Saint-Michel. Siril takes one bite into hers-which has beef in it- makes a disgusted face and goes "But it tastes like reindeer!" I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Ok, maybe you had to be there.
ps- in what entry was one of my labels 'rabies?'
you learn to open up your arms and let go of it
you don't stay up all night drinking cheap bear
and act like we oughta know it"
This weekend, Jessi forced me into studying for at least eight hours. It was horrible. Let me give you an image of Jessi and me studying. Jessi is sitting on a chair in my room, surrounded by stuff, reading diligently, asking intelligent questions. Taking notes of notes she's already taken. Highlighting. Speaking about Balzac and Baudelaire under her breath.
Then there's me. I'm usually rolling around my bed in a pile of papers which all have doodles covering them from when I was bored in lecture. Or notes to Jessi from when I was bored in lecture. (Examples: "JE SUIS SOO FATIGUEE!" "True/false: I speak better than french people?[false] how do they not get this? Where are we eating? FRENCH = STUPID." "I am going to kill that swedish bitch") One pages features a list of all 50 states which I made when my apartment flooded and I didn't know what else to do other than sit on my bed and try to list all of them...anyway. So I'm laying on my bed, whining to Jessi, pretending to look up useful information, and eating sour patch kids. Every few minutes when she turns away I try to sneak on facebook for a few precious seconds, always keeping a tab with something about Romanticism or whatever open for going back quickly when she looks. You might think I am a horrible student. And I am. But the lame truth about this is that I don't really have to study for my lit final and I know I'm going to do well because I've already done extensive reading on all of the topics we've covered on Wikipedia, in my own time. Or made Emmanuel teach me. Because I'm a loser. Still, I'm really grateful I have her to try and make me work.
The real highlights of the weekend (not studying, actually) were the Sigur Ros concert, to which Ida and I arrived an hour late, the Des Ark concert, to which we arrived two hours early, and all of the beer and Mexican food surrounding both. Des Ark felt like Madison- a shitty warehouse with random pieces of artwork and old furniture sitting around, people smoking pot, the guys at the "bar" selling cans of beer for 1 euro each...everything. It was kind of amazing, actually. And Ida was the perfect companion for both.
I think though, that the best moment of the weekend, musical orgasms aside, was tonight at dinner. Jessi, Siril (who lives above the arctic circle in Norway, just for reference) and I are eating burritos which we miraculously found in Saint-Michel. Siril takes one bite into hers-which has beef in it- makes a disgusted face and goes "But it tastes like reindeer!" I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Ok, maybe you had to be there.
ps- in what entry was one of my labels 'rabies?'
11.11.08
toby is the devil
I am trying to milk the whole Nablopomohohofroyo thing for all it's worth. As in, not doing it because I'm way too goddamned lazy, but when I feel like I'm starting to write in here a little too often I just pretend like I am doing it and it's an accomplishment. Yeah. I know. Ever been inside my head before? It's a weird place.
I read some quote on my iGoogle home page the other day by Rilke about people who think their lives are boring: If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty. Ok so he maybe didn't mean boring per se, he meant people who think their lives suck. I am going to interpret this as boredom.
It struck me because once in awhile, despite the fact that I am very happy here, I find myself a bit bored and disappointed with my life. I guess we all do sometimes , right? Here I am in Paris. I should at LEAST be in love with a French man. I should at least be going to crazy parties until the early morning in tiny apartments with attractive people...actually when I picture PARIS how I should be living it, it's something like this: In a Haussmannian apartment, much like my own, in a room with a fireplace and a chandelier. There is a red light in the room. Some sort of sexy music is going on. Ridiculously cool and beautiful people are huddled around doing coke and drinking absinthe and smoking cigarettes. Where on earth did I come up with this image and decided that is how I should be leading my life here? I. have. no. idea. What is my life ACTUALLY like here? I wake up and drink tea. I go to class. I come home and do my homework. Mostly I sit on my bed with Siril and Ida watching The Office, some movie, or weird Norwegian children's shows they have rediscovered on youtube. Am I bored? Sometimes, in the big picture. But what does that even mean? How can you change the big picture? Especially when you live in Paris? I mean really, what else CAN you do?
And the truth of the matter is, that in the little day-to-day moments, I love it. I love that when I am waking up and drinking tea I'm opening up my window and looking out on the best city. I love that when I go to school I have to walk through the winding avenues of the Latin Quarter and among some of the oldest educational institutes, ever. When I come home it's to MY Haussmannian building with a fireplace (no chandelier...yet), and my friends who I love, even though they aren't attractive Frenchmen. Maybe if I weren't so worried with other people's perception of my experience in Paris, I wouldn't think my life were boring. And maybe maybe maybe, there is something to be said for a rather mundane life in Paris. You know? Because it means it's a life, and not a vacation. I like to think my experience here has been somewhat atypical compared to the average study abroad experience (in good and bad ways). I don't go out and drink every night with my crazy international friends, but I do actually feel like I live here and this has become my home. I've had to overcome a lot of obstacles-in the ER within the first week and I've moved 5 times, for example- in order to finally get to this calmer, albeit bored life. Christ, I don't know. I told you my brain was a weird place.
I guess maybe the reason I'm afraid of going back to Madison is because I'm afraid that, like the Rilke quote would suggest, I am the boring one. And when you have a pretty background like Paris, you can at least try to distract yourself with it. What happens when I get back to little city with one main street where I know everybody? If I can't have the crazy Parisien life of my fantasies in Paris, I'm obviously not going to find it in Wisconsin. Maybe that's not my life for a reason, though. If that is the case though, why do I always find myself waiting for something better? Do I learn to be happy with what I have or learn how to make a change? Do I stop writing in my blog at 4 am when I should have been asleep for hours? Hmph.
------------------------------
1. I totally don't condone the use of cocaine.
2. I talk a lot about Haussmannian architecture, because it is probably my favorite (visual) aspect of Paris. This is what I mean by that:
Yeah, my apartment is in a building like that. Yeah, you should be jealous of me. If you want to see more pictures of it (I'm very proud!) you can see them at my flickr, to which I've linked on here.
3. When I mentioned I'd been in the ER within the first week, you maybe thought that that was a lame thing to mention and that you didn't feel bad for me. Well, guess what? It sucked. And the sickness I had is the reason that I am lactose intolerant now. Which MORE than sucks. So you should feel bad for me.
4. The subject line of this blog is completely unrelated to the rest of it, but is an important reference to a deleted scene of the episode "Sexual Harassment" from the Office season 2. Watch it immediately, it will change your life.
I read some quote on my iGoogle home page the other day by Rilke about people who think their lives are boring: If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty. Ok so he maybe didn't mean boring per se, he meant people who think their lives suck. I am going to interpret this as boredom.
It struck me because once in awhile, despite the fact that I am very happy here, I find myself a bit bored and disappointed with my life. I guess we all do sometimes , right? Here I am in Paris. I should at LEAST be in love with a French man. I should at least be going to crazy parties until the early morning in tiny apartments with attractive people...actually when I picture PARIS how I should be living it, it's something like this: In a Haussmannian apartment, much like my own, in a room with a fireplace and a chandelier. There is a red light in the room. Some sort of sexy music is going on. Ridiculously cool and beautiful people are huddled around doing coke and drinking absinthe and smoking cigarettes. Where on earth did I come up with this image and decided that is how I should be leading my life here? I. have. no. idea. What is my life ACTUALLY like here? I wake up and drink tea. I go to class. I come home and do my homework. Mostly I sit on my bed with Siril and Ida watching The Office, some movie, or weird Norwegian children's shows they have rediscovered on youtube. Am I bored? Sometimes, in the big picture. But what does that even mean? How can you change the big picture? Especially when you live in Paris? I mean really, what else CAN you do?
And the truth of the matter is, that in the little day-to-day moments, I love it. I love that when I am waking up and drinking tea I'm opening up my window and looking out on the best city. I love that when I go to school I have to walk through the winding avenues of the Latin Quarter and among some of the oldest educational institutes, ever. When I come home it's to MY Haussmannian building with a fireplace (no chandelier...yet), and my friends who I love, even though they aren't attractive Frenchmen. Maybe if I weren't so worried with other people's perception of my experience in Paris, I wouldn't think my life were boring. And maybe maybe maybe, there is something to be said for a rather mundane life in Paris. You know? Because it means it's a life, and not a vacation. I like to think my experience here has been somewhat atypical compared to the average study abroad experience (in good and bad ways). I don't go out and drink every night with my crazy international friends, but I do actually feel like I live here and this has become my home. I've had to overcome a lot of obstacles-in the ER within the first week and I've moved 5 times, for example- in order to finally get to this calmer, albeit bored life. Christ, I don't know. I told you my brain was a weird place.
I guess maybe the reason I'm afraid of going back to Madison is because I'm afraid that, like the Rilke quote would suggest, I am the boring one. And when you have a pretty background like Paris, you can at least try to distract yourself with it. What happens when I get back to little city with one main street where I know everybody? If I can't have the crazy Parisien life of my fantasies in Paris, I'm obviously not going to find it in Wisconsin. Maybe that's not my life for a reason, though. If that is the case though, why do I always find myself waiting for something better? Do I learn to be happy with what I have or learn how to make a change? Do I stop writing in my blog at 4 am when I should have been asleep for hours? Hmph.
------------------------------
1. I totally don't condone the use of cocaine.
2. I talk a lot about Haussmannian architecture, because it is probably my favorite (visual) aspect of Paris. This is what I mean by that:
Yeah, my apartment is in a building like that. Yeah, you should be jealous of me. If you want to see more pictures of it (I'm very proud!) you can see them at my flickr, to which I've linked on here.
3. When I mentioned I'd been in the ER within the first week, you maybe thought that that was a lame thing to mention and that you didn't feel bad for me. Well, guess what? It sucked. And the sickness I had is the reason that I am lactose intolerant now. Which MORE than sucks. So you should feel bad for me.
4. The subject line of this blog is completely unrelated to the rest of it, but is an important reference to a deleted scene of the episode "Sexual Harassment" from the Office season 2. Watch it immediately, it will change your life.
7.9.08
a pain au chocolat a day keeps the boyfriends away
Just kidding. I don't eat a pain au chocolat a day. But I think I should start. Life's too short not too, right? As it happens, this morning I was reading an article* which listed and described the "10 best pains au chocolat in Paris." In all honesty, there was a brief moment where I thought to myself, "Well, I've got nothing to do today..." but I forced myself** to stay home and do my work instead. Ah well. Maybe the tour du chocolat is best carried out over a long stretch of time rather than an afternoon.
For those of you who, upon reading my last entry, thought maybe I had actually fallen in love with somebody who loved me back and was in a healthy relationship or something, I'm sorry to say that is not the case. Every few weeks or so I will have an encounter with a very attractive man (this time it was a student who was in charge of helping us foreigners figure our school business out) and then convince myself that I am destined to be with this person forever. Besides this, I picked up a habit from Clara and Lucas of declaring I'm "in love with" anybody I might have the smallest crush on***. I think it is a result of trying to translate the word "amoureux" into english. Or maybe it is a result of me being silly and dramatic. And Parisien men being too goddamned attractive. Who will ever know?
Finally, I just want to give a small word of advice- never, ever try to purchase (transatlantic) plane tickets while intoxicated. I realize that for most people this is probably a given, but if you ever find yourself on the verge of doing it, know that you WILL drop your computer (although in my defense that less to do with my being inebriated and more to do with my having to sit on the microwave for internet), and you WILL make stupid decisions ("maybe being home for thanksgiving would be more important than finishing out the semester" ), but luckily you WILL get tired while expedia is loading and eventually give up.
*I can't pretend I innocently stumbled upon this article. google search: best patisseries in paris, et voila.
**sloth 1, gluttony 0
***I cringe when I end sentences with prepositions. Just in case anybody noticed that.
For those of you who, upon reading my last entry, thought maybe I had actually fallen in love with somebody who loved me back and was in a healthy relationship or something, I'm sorry to say that is not the case. Every few weeks or so I will have an encounter with a very attractive man (this time it was a student who was in charge of helping us foreigners figure our school business out) and then convince myself that I am destined to be with this person forever. Besides this, I picked up a habit from Clara and Lucas of declaring I'm "in love with" anybody I might have the smallest crush on***. I think it is a result of trying to translate the word "amoureux" into english. Or maybe it is a result of me being silly and dramatic. And Parisien men being too goddamned attractive. Who will ever know?
Finally, I just want to give a small word of advice- never, ever try to purchase (transatlantic) plane tickets while intoxicated. I realize that for most people this is probably a given, but if you ever find yourself on the verge of doing it, know that you WILL drop your computer (although in my defense that less to do with my being inebriated and more to do with my having to sit on the microwave for internet), and you WILL make stupid decisions ("maybe being home for thanksgiving would be more important than finishing out the semester" ), but luckily you WILL get tired while expedia is loading and eventually give up.
*I can't pretend I innocently stumbled upon this article. google search: best patisseries in paris, et voila.
**sloth 1, gluttony 0
***I cringe when I end sentences with prepositions. Just in case anybody noticed that.
31.8.08
PLACES...
That I would like to visit by the end of the semester:
Barcelona, London, Luxembourg, Brussels, Strasbourg, Vienna, Prague, Budapest, Rome, Reykajyi..ok the place in Iceland, Stockholm, Algiers.
Those are just "major" cities of countries, and I didn't count places I've already been, and I didn't count places I'd be happy to visit. I hate this feeling of "oh this is the only time I'll get the chance to wander around Europe blah blah blah." I refuse to believe that's true.
I have four months left. I feel like the adventure is already almost over. And, at the same time, that it's really just begun.
I have a sore bun from sitting on my microwave and have to be at the Sorbonne early tomorrow for a fucking test so I will leave it at that. bonne soiree.
Barcelona, London, Luxembourg, Brussels, Strasbourg, Vienna, Prague, Budapest, Rome, Reykajyi..ok the place in Iceland, Stockholm, Algiers.
Those are just "major" cities of countries, and I didn't count places I've already been, and I didn't count places I'd be happy to visit. I hate this feeling of "oh this is the only time I'll get the chance to wander around Europe blah blah blah." I refuse to believe that's true.
I have four months left. I feel like the adventure is already almost over. And, at the same time, that it's really just begun.
I have a sore bun from sitting on my microwave and have to be at the Sorbonne early tomorrow for a fucking test so I will leave it at that. bonne soiree.
26.8.08
Forget everything you've ever learned about ab workouts
Done.
(Yeah I wasn't serious when I said I was done writing in here)
So, in my most recent "I have no idea what I'm doing with my computer" move, I deleted a bunch of music from my iTunes library. I keep finding that more and more is gone. The worst? All-yes, ALL- of my Wilco music is GONE. ALL OF IT. I was ok with the rest but this? It can't be! In my head I was seriously pleading with my PowerBook- "No, wait you don't understand! You can't have the Wilco! It's ME, it's WILCO we're talking about! You must be mistaken." I'm not kidding. It just seems unfair. It feels very similarly unfair to my unfortunate situation regarding my post-secondary education at the moment. So unfortunate that it has forced me to seriously re-evaluate what I'll be doing with my life, post-Paris. Or, maybe life post-Paris won't happen for awhile longer. Fuck. Serves me right for being such a snot in high school about everything. Long story short, screw Hampshire College. Is there some TripAdvisor type page for colleges where I can go and post about the many ways in which going to this school will fuck your life? Hopefully.
I wanted to post a little excerpt from my real journal about this because that would be more truthful (speaking of which, my journal is the MOST beautiful book in the world-I love living in a city where a fucking Swedish paper shop can stay in business, you know?) but then it fell open to a different page- "I'm in the waiting area for my flight to Chicago! But wait- I think I accidentally showed up to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting?" I'm one to talk. But come on, America, we can do better. Can't we?
Anyway, I need my life to pick up- and it will, I just want it now. I want classes and school and new friends and work and running around. I can see in my face how bored and lazy I've been these past few weeks. It doesn't look good. I can feel the French melting away from my brain slowly but surely. It's funny how much living alone changes that. Going from hearing French around me all the time to waking up in my English-speaking head and listening to music in English and reading books in English. And then when I go out and try to interact, the French words feel awkward in my mouth. I bumped into some guy the other day while listening to some song on my iPod and nearly let "excuse me" come out of my mouth- what? I ordered "un baguette" the other day at the boulangerie. Yeah, it sounds stupid but it's bothering me. Paris, Paris, please be done with your vacation soon. I need people to talk to again. My brain feels dull when it's only working in one language.
song you should listen to- "sea of love," -cat power. better before it was in that juno movie. hey girls! get preggers and it'll all be ok and you'll get to date michael cera. psych.
Oh- did I mention I'm working for Chanel's HR director? I'm working for Chanel's HR director.
(Yeah I wasn't serious when I said I was done writing in here)
So, in my most recent "I have no idea what I'm doing with my computer" move, I deleted a bunch of music from my iTunes library. I keep finding that more and more is gone. The worst? All-yes, ALL- of my Wilco music is GONE. ALL OF IT. I was ok with the rest but this? It can't be! In my head I was seriously pleading with my PowerBook- "No, wait you don't understand! You can't have the Wilco! It's ME, it's WILCO we're talking about! You must be mistaken." I'm not kidding. It just seems unfair. It feels very similarly unfair to my unfortunate situation regarding my post-secondary education at the moment. So unfortunate that it has forced me to seriously re-evaluate what I'll be doing with my life, post-Paris. Or, maybe life post-Paris won't happen for awhile longer. Fuck. Serves me right for being such a snot in high school about everything. Long story short, screw Hampshire College. Is there some TripAdvisor type page for colleges where I can go and post about the many ways in which going to this school will fuck your life? Hopefully.
I wanted to post a little excerpt from my real journal about this because that would be more truthful (speaking of which, my journal is the MOST beautiful book in the world-I love living in a city where a fucking Swedish paper shop can stay in business, you know?) but then it fell open to a different page- "I'm in the waiting area for my flight to Chicago! But wait- I think I accidentally showed up to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting?" I'm one to talk. But come on, America, we can do better. Can't we?
Anyway, I need my life to pick up- and it will, I just want it now. I want classes and school and new friends and work and running around. I can see in my face how bored and lazy I've been these past few weeks. It doesn't look good. I can feel the French melting away from my brain slowly but surely. It's funny how much living alone changes that. Going from hearing French around me all the time to waking up in my English-speaking head and listening to music in English and reading books in English. And then when I go out and try to interact, the French words feel awkward in my mouth. I bumped into some guy the other day while listening to some song on my iPod and nearly let "excuse me" come out of my mouth- what? I ordered "un baguette" the other day at the boulangerie. Yeah, it sounds stupid but it's bothering me. Paris, Paris, please be done with your vacation soon. I need people to talk to again. My brain feels dull when it's only working in one language.
song you should listen to- "sea of love," -cat power. better before it was in that juno movie. hey girls! get preggers and it'll all be ok and you'll get to date michael cera. psych.
Oh- did I mention I'm working for Chanel's HR director? I'm working for Chanel's HR director.
7.2.08
Things I am INTO: baguette (duh), chevre, chevre pizza, pommes chauffes, coca cola light, actimiel, prince cookies, nutella snack n go's (NOT to be confused with snack n drinks, which are creepy), my audi, violette (always), when kim is being cute and adorable as opposed to obnoxious and spoiled, sitting at school all day doing nothing, carrefour, this leather coat i am going to buy from promod, the weather here, common languages that are not native to either speaker.
Things I am not into: anne and beatrice both being out of the country thus leaving me alone with kim, the electricity not working in the morning, me having to puke for like a million years, kim throwing a tantrum when i try to wake him up in the morning, having to puke more, realizing kim wet the bed last night, having to explain to kim why the tv isn't working. None of those things are so shitty, but when they all happen within 15 minutes of one another, I want to shoot myself.
Things I am not into: anne and beatrice both being out of the country thus leaving me alone with kim, the electricity not working in the morning, me having to puke for like a million years, kim throwing a tantrum when i try to wake him up in the morning, having to puke more, realizing kim wet the bed last night, having to explain to kim why the tv isn't working. None of those things are so shitty, but when they all happen within 15 minutes of one another, I want to shoot myself.
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