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.

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.

i can't take it no more baby i'm comin for you

This is going to be one of my less focused blogs.

It’s really hard for me to concentrate on writing when I can’t stop to check Facebook/whatever every five minutes. Is that right? Shouldn’t my lack of connectivity help me focus on writing? Probably. Let me back up for a moment and explain that I’m in my apartment in Paris, sitting on my bed, not connected to the internet. To be so, I must literally sit on top of my refrigerator and hold my computer halfway out the window. Thank you, dear THOMSON, you naive soul who doesn’t know how to password protect his shit.

So yes. Since we last spoke, I have been to Berlin, to Liege, to Amsterdam, back to Paris, to Chicago/Madison/Chicago, to Cannes, to Saint-Raphael, to San Remo, and finally back to Paris. I don’t really want to say a whole lot about any of it because that would ruin it. Being home was so freakishly normal. It disturbs me that I can spend seven months in a foreign country and then come back to the exact same scene I left. I feel like January-July was like that piece of string in A Wrinkle in Time..well, I mean, I feel like January-July was a wrinkle in time. Profound, I know.

My apartment is really great. IS really great. WAS not really great this morning when I got here after bringing my mom to the airport. It’s 2:15 a.m. right now and since about 10 a.m. I have been cleaning and re-decorating. I could totally be an interior designer for young women living in tiny, shitty apartments who think they have really quirky taste in stupid shit. Really though, it’s nice. Cozy. Tiny.

I think the reason I’m so good at doing things like cleaning out my apartment and making it look completely different in a day is because when I’m cleaning I don’t have to think about stuff. I seriously won’t stop cleaning until everything looks perfect, and then I have to be alone with my thoughts. Like: I have a really nice little apartment in Paris and a ton of free time until school starts again but I miss my friends who have left and Luis and the entire city is on vacation this month so that's a little strange...

I think some rabid creature may have bit my hand during the night.
For some reason, once in awhile my mom thinks it’s appropriate for her to shop at Anthropologie. The best thing about it is that after she buys whatever it is, she realizes it’s not that appropriate and gives all the shit to me.
The song “Make Love In This Club” by Usher featuring Yung Jeezy- so, SO good and I'm only kind of embarrassed to say it.

23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 day 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days 23 days to freedom.

yahoooooooo

Oh yeah...I drank absinthe this weekend. Like, absinthe these people make at their countryside mansion. Wow. Do not ever turn this down if offered to you.

MONSTER BLOG

I haven't written the blog yet but I can feel it will be monster-like, probably do to the monster-like pile of things I should be doing, but don't want to: exercise, shower, email back potential employers, homework, seeing a travel agent (why am I still scared of speaking French after five months? ugh), buying sandals (I'm in pursuit of the PERFECT pair of sandals because I'm going to be doing some traveling and want to bring only one pair of shoes but I don't know if it's possible), hanging up laundry, plucking my eyebrows...ok...I will stop now. I think sometimes I use writing in my blog to procrastinate but I start to procrastinate at even writing anything. So here I go.

Time goes by too fast. Too fast, and MUCH too slow. I was going to write that I am coming off a really nice weekend, but then I realized it's Thursday which means it's practically already the NEXT weekend! Yet I feel like the moment I pick up my little brother at the Amsterdam airport on July 16th, 9:15 A.M. is a lifetime away. And it's always going to fast or too slow in the wrong direction. Wow. Profound, Casey. Putting into words thoughts which have never ever been thought by anybody in the history of mankind. Well anyway. I think I already wrote that I spent my Saturday shopping and feeling miserable. However, Sunday was June 1st. Meaning not only is it June now...yes!...but also that all of the museums in Paris were free (as they are the first Sunday of every month). So I went with Luis to the Picasso museum, and then we enjoyed lunch down the street from la Place de la Bastille. It costs 4€ for a non-refillable coca light probably amounting to 12 ounces. $6. Just so everybody knows. I wish I had known before I ordered it.
After eating, we went over to the Museum of Eroticism, in Pigalle. Oddly enough, there was no free entry, despite it being the first Sunday of the month. So after forking over 5€ apiece, we were in. Naturally I made a "that's what she said" joke in the first 30 seconds of our being there (it was raining! I had an umbrella and Luis said 'c'est mouillé.' (it's wet). You know you would have too). Something I had to wonder about as we looked at all the pervy (I mean, beautiful) paintings, was the music choice. U2, probably greatest hits because I definitely heard "With or Without You" and a new one (not sure of the title) right after one another. Or maybe a U2 mix. I wondered because to me U2 is not a very erotic music choice, but maybe the sad looking man working at the counter thought it was. Or maybe they intentionally play non-sexy music because they don't want anybody to get too turned on in a museum. I wonder if I were to go back today, would U2 be playing again? Or maybe this time it would be REM? Is there something wrong with me because I was looking at erotic paintings and thinking about Bono instead of boners? Probably. But I don't care. After the museum we found an irish pub and I drank a pint of guinness and thought about how I didn't want to go home(to my fake home here that is), and an old man drew us (without permission) and then kept ripping up his drawings.
And now it's Thursday. I've spent a good chunk of the morning reading Mindy Kaling's shopping blog, which has now inspired me to become a semi-famous female writer-performer on a successful network television series, and then do a lot of shopping and then blog about it. Kudos, Mindy! Oddly enough that supports my dream to date/marry John Krasinski! How convenient. Where was I..oh yes. Today is Thursday, tomorrow is Friday which means I am meeting up with a childhood friend who lives in Paris now, and on Saturday I am going to meet another woman for whom I will likely work in the fall. I am praying to god I get this job. Pleeeeeeease woman. It sucks trying to pick out an outfit for these types of meetings. I want to look pretty and fashionable, because Paris mothers ALWAYS look pretty and fashionable, but I can't look too dressed up because I want to have the appearance of being good with children. It also sucks picking out outfits in general because I hate all of the my clothes. (I can hear Jonah asking me in my head: do you want some cheese with that whine? Why yes, Jonah, thank you. I love cheese.)

Ok I'm just going to cut myself off here because I don't know how to write a blog and I actually really do need to go do some of those other things. Bon weekend everybody! bisouuuuuuuux


Oh, and I should add one thing. I am not scared of speaking French. Going to a travel agent is something I would feel awkward about in America too. Why? Don't ask me. I'm a big weirdo. And Parisiens are mean so whatever.

you can find me in the fourth

First of all, I think I have bipolar disorder.
Second of all, I think I saw 50 Cent in a wheelchair in Le Marais today. That would be the gay/jewish/"poor"/trendy area of Paris. I am so serious about this.
Third of all, Friday nights rule. I don't work, but lately I've been staying at home instead of going out because they're really quite nice. Everybody is in a good mood, we usually either go out to dinner (the two preceding Fridays: Italian, Sushi) or order in (last night: INDIAN!!!!!!!!!). There is a table in the backyard and we sat and pigged out and Jacques asked me if there was an Indian restaurant in my "village." I guess he was pretty impressed that I knew I wanted tikka masala without looking at a menu. Also, regular nan is better than cheesy nan. Sorry, it's true. So yeah we sat around and ate and ate and then drank wine and it was soo nice out. Sometimes French suburbia is okay.
Today I remembered why I hate shopping in Paris. I have been eyeing this thrift/vintage store called Free-P-Star for awhile, and recently I read something about how it is THEEE BEST VINTAGE STORE IN PARIS, which I would imagine is saying something, right? Anyway so I get there (this store, along with 50, is in Le Marais). It sucked. It's tiny, about 15000 degrees, and filled with a. shitty clothes and b. ridiculously tiny/beautiful/immaculately dressed French girls. Yuck. Anyway I bought a dress and then left. It's not like department stores are even better. Actually I think they are worse. Seriously, don't go into nice store in Paris if you don't want to come out feeling obese, ugly, poor, awkward, out of place, basically a lot of things...well, maybe if you aren't actually obese ugly and poor you won't feel like that but...well, suffice it to say my self-esteem is somewhat fragile lately. Sometimes I just want to be in Wisconsin where I see people fatter than me on a daily basis.
Do you know what I hate about macs? There is ONE THING I hate about macs and it is: the absence of a key which can delete forward/to the right. I really miss that. And think about it way more than any person should ever think about a key on a keyboard.

I have an awkward problem

I guess some people have this thing where they sometimes go into uncontrollable fits of laughter. And they laugh and laugh and can't stop. I kind of have that, but it's not cute or quirky. It's really awkward. Usually it's when I am alone, in a very public place such as on the metro, in a quiet, serious, museum, or likewise. I start to think of something funny- usually having to do with my family or Michael Scott (that is another problem I need to address)- and then I start having weird spasms in my face, sometimes resulting in full-out laughter. It's so embarrassing. Most recently it was today in Monoprix. I remembered this game that my brother Michael and I used to play when we would sleep in the attic during the summer, called PACINO. As in Al. It's an Olson original by the way, in case you ever want to play it at a party and are looking for somebody to whom you can give credit. It's pretty simple: one person whispers a word that is either the word Pacino, or another word. The other person/people then try to guess whether the word was Pacino or not. WTFFFFFFFFF???? wtf wtf wtf. I was reminded of this game a few weeks ago when Michael sent me a postcard from Costa Rica that had "Pacino" written all over the front of it. Goddamn I miss my weirdo family. If you need further proof of their...eccentricity...look no further:



And just in case you haven't seen the original (where have you been?):




Yeah, they were driving to Florida and my brother Grady asked my dad if they could make a three-hour detour to Montgomery to stop at a flea market. Naturally my dad said yes (????!?!?!?!) and so they drove there, waited for the guy to show up to work, and then I guess bombarded him.

Well, anyway. I miss my brothers. If I didn't already mention it.

Time to go lay outside and think about how great Paris is in the spring. CIAO!

Well. I am back in France. You know how towards the end of a long vacation you start getting really excited to be back home? That happened to me in Spain, except it was really confusing because I kept remembering I'm not sure where my home is or if I was actually going to it. But it is nice to be back. Every time I fly back into France from somewhere else I feel a less like a visitor and a little more like...an expatriate? Hmph. God, this blog is really turning into something of a chef d'oeuvre, isn't? Sometimes I really can't stand my own literary genius. Purely astounding.

While abroad (what does that technically mean? I realize I am an idiot), I had to do quite a bit of soul-searching, considering we were staying in a TINY town (the tiniest you have ever seen) and I really had nobody to talk to, other than a bunch of Spanish guys and oh...wait...I don't speak Spanish. Because I really have no interest in searching the depths of my soul at the moment (maybe that's why I escaped all my issues and moved to France), I instead chose to read every book in sight. Mostly I stole from Clara (12 year-old I babysit for) because I didn't bring enough. All in all, I read: Love In A Time Of Cholera, The Sound And The Fury, Pride & Prejudice, Bridget Jones' Diary, The Secret Life Of Bees, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The last three were all completed over the course of about two days. Not for the first time, I found myself rather infuriated by the overall content of Bridget Jones, especially how recently I'd also read its "inspiration." WTF, woman? Since when can you completely rip off the plot of another book without giving credit? Is naming the principle male character after the original supposed to excuse the blatant THEFT? Well, personally I think it's dumb. On the back there is some comment from some stupid critic (probably from USA Today if I had to guess) that says something like "Reads like Austen and fill-in-the-blank-idiot-author combined. A triumph!" WELL DUHHHHHH!!!! Why am I getting so worked up over this? Apparently I did not get the buena onda vibe the spaniards were going for. Anyway. P&P is obviously much better and I think Darcy is the only fictional character I've ever ACTUALLY fallen in love with. No, seriously.

I guess I have nothing much else to talk about, considering I'm back to the normal stuff. Definitely the most exciting moment at work lately was when Lucas (nine year-old) finally, casually, decided to reveal over breakfast that he goes to school with Johnny Depp's children. I swear to god that he and I have talked about Pirates of the Caribbean in some facon (? is this a word in english? not sure) every. single. day. for the past oh, two months? He has posters of that shit all over his effing wall, but no, I just find out now. Well, needless to say I am going to start actually getting dressed when I bring him to school in the morning. I also told him that if he doesn't get invited over soon, that I won't love him anymore. No, I didn't tell him that. Should I? I'm considering it




I really have nothing else to say at the moment. It's really nice out here. I want more clothes. I am uncharacteristically and alarmingly tan. I don't think I like it.

yo queiro (sp?) taco bell!

New Office episode: mind-blowing. I just want to be included in that relationship. Pam can stay, I don't care.

Time to go to Spain for two weeks. I speak about three words of Spanish. It is really quite incredible how few things I know. You would almost have to be trying to know so little of a language which is spoken by inhabitants of a bordering country. Congrats, me.

jE nE sAiS qUOi!!!!1

Things You Do When You Don't Leave Your (Attic)Bedroom For 30 Hours Straight:

-Read the Wikipedia on societal collapse (again). This time, taking notes. 

-Read all of the "suggested reading" Wikipedias under the societal collapse one.  Also taking notes.

-Watch Clifford. Why not? (Liz Kiefer if you are reading this sorry I stole your Clifford DVD)

-Make pictures like this, depicting an average day in the Bernard household.

-Finally figure out how to make real links on blogger

-Decide to go to Scotland next week. Why not?

-Book plane ticket for Scotland next week. 

-Contemplate eating the following: flower stems, leather boots, birth control pills, ibuprofen.  

-Find a bit of water at the bottom of a water bottle. Hey maybe I was just thirsty anyway!

-Post yet another obnoxious post in blog complaining about life in France

In America, idiots say "for all intensive purposes." In France, idiots say "comme-meme."

Kim says "comme-meme" constantly. The first week here I turned to host mother and said "Comme-meme? What does that mean?" She told me what it meant (even so, all the same, etc.) However, I was pretty sure the expression was "quand-meme" (it is). Yesterday I asked her, "Is it COMME-meme or QUAND-meme?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Comme-meme."

WRONG! OMG! victory is mine you stupid lesbian asshole.

Today's favorites: blondie, prince cookies (an everyday favorite), the tandoori sauce i finally decided to just steal from the house, knowing that in a short amount of time i'll no longer hit my head ever five minutes, knowing that in a short amount of time i'll have a bedroom door, knowing that in a short amount of time i get to see my brother (wtf! in the midst of everything i've barely thought about it!), flowers my mom sent me that Beatrice thought were hers for a second and I was like oh actually they're mine, thanks and snatched them from her real fast (actually that happened yesterday), "unforgiveable (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VX8_M-KI7IQ)" (actually that happened like a year ago but i'm still lovin it), thinking about how tomorrow on the way to school i'm going to go to a boulangerie i've never been to before and buy who knows what!

themes/possible memoir titles

*French People Never Mess Up Except At Being Good Parents/People/Not Being Total Dillholes
*Chevre's Ok But Cheddar's Better: I Miss Orange Cheese
*French Women Don't Get Fat- But You Will, Stupid Asshole American
*Maybe I Should Just Date High Schoolers Because They Seem Nice And Not Terribly Unattractive When You Live In Paris
*Priorite A Droite Is The Only Thing Shittier Than Your Ugly Face
*I Should Probably Try To Hold Off the Tears Until I Get In the Shower: Life Without A Bedroom Door
*The Heat's Broken and You're Mad I Didn't Notice? Oops! Guess It Was Hard To Tell From the Attic!

I don't mean to whine (yes I do) but my host family is very difficult. Minus the cat. However, today I fell asleep outside in the sun- how many inches of snow has Wisconsin gotten so far? HA!

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.

All of my brothers have the flu right now and I just want to be sitting around watching TV and vomiting with them or whatever.

i just straightened my hair and i look like shit

Probably because that dumb bitch at the aveda place (the one near hilldale; DON'T go there) gave me a shitty haircut and that shines through regardless of texture. Especially shiny thanks to John Frieda. I feel like her name was Violet but I think it's just because my bff is on my mind. She was 19. The hair stylist that is, not my feline friend.


"Chartreux tend to bond with one person in their household, preferring to be in their general vicinity (often following their person from room to room), though they are still loving and affectionate to the other members of the household."

wham city

Victories:
-Again, Violette shows adoration beyond belief towards me and only me.
-Kim shows adequate adoration towards me, but always much moreso than he does Anne (the Man [creative, witty, inspired nickname came to be after I realized that Anne a) resembles a man, perhaps because she b) is a lesbian, and c) has a name which rhymes quite well with the word "man."]).
-Have begun to call Beatrice by "tu" but continue to vousvoyer ATM, and in doing so, display my respective comfort levels. Quite intentional, yet natural-feeling.
-Bought Most Amazing Shirt Ever (Shitney you'd seriously love this-it involves a cat) for 3 Euro
-Am now able to wake up at 7 a.m. and be somewhat coherent shortly thereafter
-Fooseball (sp? wtf? maybe better to just call it baby-foot?) skills improving immensely
-French skills improving somewhat.

Losses:
-Anne is a bitch and I hate her
-Still not sure how to make the euro symbol while typing unless in microsoft word or unless I find a website with it and copy/paste
-Too many to document. Probably better to ignore.

I can't spell any of the words I learned today. Most of them are names of exotic animals Kim taught me while watching some French variety of Planet Earth.

toujours tout droit

Some things I've noticed in the past few days, and especially since the household dynamic has taken a nasty turn for the worse and I no longer feel welcome here:

1. The cat, Violette, likes me. A lot.
2. I also like her.
3. I not only like her, but at this point would say she is my best friend here.
4. When Violette is present, I feel protected.
5. I also feel significantly less lonely when she is on my lap letting me pet her.

Only 60% of those are pathetic.

On an unrelated note: I like to brush my teeth for an especially long time when Anne is in the TV room and can hear me. I like to think we're all going to learn something from this experience.

-poivrons: leeks (EDIT: as I previously thought, POIVRON means pepper. however, tonight we ate leeks and anne called them poivrons- and also used the word leek- so whatevs)
-riverains (sp?): river-dweller
-tricheur: cheater

at some point I should figure out how to put accents on words

A French-English dictionary sits at the dinner table with us every night, a silent fourth member of the family. We consult it constantly. Often the french word my host mothers look up does not exist in english. Perhaps worse is when they ask me how to say something in english and I have to spit out the same word with my ugly accent: fiance, ambulance, obligatory. BEING AMERICAN IS SO EMBARRASSING!


-piquer: to prick or sting
-la betterave: beet
-mouiller: to wet, dilute (as in Kim telling his mother that I got water all over the side of the bathtub and the floor. Thanks Kim. Nobody believes your stupid lies, so just keep telling them.)

*coincidentally (mostly) water-related*

1. eclabousser: to splash
2. flac: puddle
3. etang: pond
4. boule (?): bubble
5. pompiers: firetruck/firefighter