Archives: August 2004
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It's lame but I was really looking forward to getting back to my computer. I got home and it was all effed up. WTF? It's still acting screwy, and that pisses me off.
The Boy told me he cleaned the house because it was a mess before I came home. I'm confused as to what exactly his definition of "cleaning" is. Either he thinks swiping down countertops with a sponge - while leaving coffee rings on all the tables - is cleaning, or I'm the most anal girl on earth. Sometimes I think I should have done the Freudian thing and found somebody just like my father. If anybody knows what clean is, it's my dad. This house is not clean! Are you crazy?
The Boy did, however, tell me that he went to change the vacuum bag and it was crawling with maggots. I'm willing to do all the cleaning for the next few months in order to avoid the maggots. I am so glad he was the one to have discovered them, because although I am great with most insects (spiders, bees, etc), the two creatures in this world that creep me out the most are maggots and rats. Well, cockroaches and maggots are sort of on the same level for me, with rats just a wee bit higher on the freak-me-out scale.
I've got my short- and long-term goals semi-mapped out in my head, which is a relief. I had a bit of an anxiety attack about it all this morning when I woke up in the middle of the night (4 a.m. ish - what is that? morning or night?) because of jet-lag. Hours later, I can't remember what I was freaking out about, but at the time, the fear felt quite real. Luckily, my sister was online and we IMed a bit about my boyfriend (that's really Shawn Crawford's body, and I don't care how much I insist that I don't like big, muscly guys, if Mr Crawford were to shave his 'stache and ask me out to dinner, I would not turn him down) and then all was right with the world.
I'm reading Anna Karenina right now, because people say it's one of those books that everyone should read. I mentioned to Kathypath that Tolstoy is a little heavy on the details, and she said, "That's Russian authors for you. You can skim, sometimes." I took that as a green light and now the book is going much faster. I'm almost three hundred pages in and Levin is still brewing over Kitty, and unfortunately the Oprah's Book Club already informed me that they're getting married at some point (no, I didn't join the club! Jesus! It was just a bookmark that came with the book, and that's how I found out that September 2, Oprah's Book Club will be discussing the novel. I should be done by then, but I won't be discussing jack).
Meanwhile, I am making myself write two pages per day of what will be my best-selling piece of shit book. If it ever does get published, I'll have to do it under a fake name so that nobody makes the link between me and that horribly raunchy story. But Lordy, Lordy, is it fun to write.
Yoga starts next week. I bought some tofu. I have my linguistics classes schedule. The environmentally-safe laundry detergent was bought and will be used tomorrow and my clothes will smell lemon-fresh. I am enrolling in Spanish this week and Arabic next week. I have some Indian recipes I am anxious to try out. I'm busy prepping letters to send to some publishers. I'm signing up for the GRE, and eventually will start preparing for it. And I still have to go see Farenheit 9/11.
It feels good to be back. I miss my family, but I like getting on with my projects, too. First up, I have to clean this damn house.
New York is a place like no other. I love it here and always have. This time around I feel I got a different glimpse of the city, but it's still a pleasant one. I'm also embarrasingly proud that I managed to navigate my way through town on foot and by subway without having to refer to maps or ask directions.
Today was spent in Brooklyn, and it looks like this trip I'm not even going to venture to Manhattan. Time constraints. But I was perfectly happy just staying around here, visiting with people and enjoying the beautiful weather.
I'm glad I freaked out a few days ago. I feel it's helping me see clearly and is now allowing me to fully enjoy myself. Portland was great, New York is great, I feel great.
I have mixed feelings about returning to France. I want to see The Boy... we have hardly spoken since I left and I'm anxious to get home to him. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed again and to know where all the dishes go in the kitchen. But I've gotten used to bumming around, just visiting people and sipping coffee. The idea of returning to a thesis paper looming somewhere in the distance is pretty unappealing, as is the thought of having to make some money somehow and figure out my plan of action concerning some major life-altering decisions.
But I feel I've got my head on straight again, so I can at least return home in good spirits. Thanks to Iramay and Brooklyn Babe for spending the day with me, and thanks to the Gringa for going the extra mile to head out to Brooklyn to come see me. And, of course, thanks to my brother and sister-in-law for shacking me up. I'd love to come back to New York to see you all soon.
The cruise ended and the family drove down to Portland. My brother, sister-in-law and I stopped off in Seattle for a nice visit with a friend of my brother's. I had never been to Seattle before, and I liked it. I was surprised by how sprawled out and un-city-like it was; it's the type of place where someone could own a house and have a yard while still having the luxuries of a reasonably large city.
Portland is also a fabulous place. I like it here a lot. The people are overwhelmingly nice (or maybe I've just been in Paris for too long) and there seems to be a nice bridge between city and small town that makes this place have the best of both worlds. The laid-back atmosphere is nice, and I've been enjoying time spent with my sister just chilling out and giggling.
It's always nice to see people in their real element. I can't believe she's lived here two years and I haven't managed to get out here. Next, I'm on to New York to hang with my brother and some friends for a bit before taking the plane back to France.
I've enjoyed my trip back to the US more than any other trip back. Sure, there was the mild breakdown on the cruise, but I think it was a good thing in the end. I realized some stuff about what I want to do, where I want to be, and how I want to get there. It might not be the easiest road, but I can't not take it just because I'm afraid.
Today I talked to a good friend from high school on the phone for a bit. I feel so lucky to still be in touch with my dawgs from Ace Deuce. I really feel that they're somehow integrated into my backbone. Most of the strength I have now has come from knowing them. I think I'll miss everyone more than usual when I head back to Europe in a few days. That can't be a bad thing, though, really.
Apparently I upset some people with the last entry. That's ok. I was crying and a bit hysterical, so it didn't come across as it should have, but I'm leaving it up for honesty's sake.
I didn't want to make it sound like any of the things I was feeling were because my family is cold or inconsiderate. I have a great family, and I am happy to be spending time with them. I am also happy that my parents and siblings are happily married. I really, really did not want it to sound like that wasn't the case. I also don't want to sound like they're not doing something they should be doing, or doing something they shouldn't. Their actions are perfectly fine. The situation has just got me thinking and I freaked out.
But I'm doing much better now. My sister came in while I was in the middle of a badly timed breakdown. We cried a bit, which helped clear the air. She was right in that I hadn't voiced any of the things that were upsetting me, and I was pretty much coming across as a bitch instead. I can see that. I didn't mean to do that. My bad.
I would also like to say, for the record, that Kari is a great big sister. I was thinking about that this morning (hours before the breakdown, I swear) and she only further confirmed it today.
Anyway, there are no simple answers to any of the things I was crying about. I don't know. A few things add up and I get a little overwhelmed. It's always like that. I think the problem this week is that I had nowhere to turn to: nowhere to go, nobody to call, no movie to lose myself in. Now I know a bit about my dealing techniques, and I know that walking around a cruise boat with my family did not make the list of healthy ways to deal with life crises.
But that's ok. You live, you learn. Tomorrow we head to Vancouver and I'll be back on solid ground. I feel bad, like I've been a horribly moody, grumpy bitch this whole time. Hopefully that can get turned around.
PS One totally creepy thing about this boat is that it was 'christened' by the Olsen twins. Their photos are up everywhere and that gives me the willies. But, anywhere that has free homemade chocolate chip cookies available at all times is ok with me. Olsen twins and all.
Something broke in me last night. I was doing fine until yesterday, but everything just started adding up: The constant noise. The lack of alone time. The 24-7 family fun.
But I broke at the photos. Already, I hate getting my picture taken in the first place. But when the photo guy went around the table, taking pictures of each of the couples, I just sat dumbly in my corner while everybody else posed with their respective spouse. Then the family decided that more pictures were needed, so we posed for a group shot near the staircase. Naturally, it was decided that that the men should stand behind their spouses. So again, I sat dumbly on the outside. Eventually, people realized this would probably look off, and we rearranged ourselves accordingly. I don't know if the rearranging made me feel better or worse, but now we have photographic evidence of how shitty I felt at that moment.
This trip is not all about me and how crappy I feel about things in general. I really am having a good time. But when the feeling of loneliness strikes, it hits me really, really hard, almost as if I got the wind knocked out of me. Last night was one of those moments.
I know it seems stupid that I care so much about this whole couple business. Really, were it a one-time deal I could probably be fine with it. But each time I come home, it gets worse. I hate that we play cards and I upset the balance. I hate that people have to make an effort to include me. I hate that I can feel that either people make that effort because they feel sorry for me or they just don't think to make the effort at all. Mostly, though, I hate that I actually let this shitty feeling get to me.
I'm realizing that much as I love my man, most likely he will never be able to come on family vacations with us, will never be home for Christmas, will never get in on family fun. I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions, and I'm not entirely happy either way. In one direction, I sacrifice my family. In the other, I sacrifice my relationship. Added into the equation are questions of career and my future and what I really want out of life, and in the end I am just left feeling confused and surprisingly frightened.
I got really grumpy and angry with my family last night, but none of this is their fault. They just happen to be the people around. Instead of being a snappy bitch (which I might be anyway), I usually try to just retreat in these situations. The trouble is, I can't seem to retreat. Every time I go back to the room, someone knocks on the door. Today, I decided I would go to lunch a little while after everyone else so that I could spend some time alone while everybody was eating, and mom made some comment about how she's 'worried I'm not eating enough.' Believe me, that is the last thing she should be worried about. I snapped at her, which I shouldn't have, but I'm tired of not being able to be upset when I want to, to go away when I want to, and to be alone when I want to. I really, really don't think people realize how hard this has been on me. Everything feels like it is coming into question at once: where do I want to live? Do I really want to upset my life as I know it right now in order to maybe simplify it in the future? Where exactly DOES The Boy fit in my life? And am I ready to make the kinds of sacrifices it takes to stay with him? Or am I ready to make even scarier sacrifices and not be with him at all? I can't imagine the repercussions to any of the answers of these questions, and they keep running through my brain all day, every day. I just feel alone, and lost, and really freaking anxious to get off this boat and try to sort some of this shit out.
We're gliding past glaciers as I type from my dad's laptop in the boat's web lounge. Yesterday we went canoeing and horseback riding, and coupled with the day before's aerobic workout and such, today my body hurts. But, on the positive side, I'm still having a good enough time with the family, despite our random bits of family spats. I'm starting to find them more and more amusing by the day.
There's too much readily available food on this boat, but Mom and I have decided to counteract the madness with some yoga and such. I like it, and I'm enjoying getting back into the swing of physical activity. It's prepping me for the intensive yoga I'm hoping to do back in Paris. I'm getting more and more excited about it by the day.
Well, I started typing this entry alone in a big, cold room and magically all eight members of my travelling crew have shown up. Concentration is impossible, so I'll try to find time to do this again later. Rargh. Never a minute alone. I'm not used to this and am beginning to feel a little overwhelmed.
I am off this morning to go to the most luxurious form of hell possible: my family - all of it - is taking a cruise to Alaska. It was Dad's idea, and it seems like a nice one. But then I realize that this means a week with four married couples. Me and four married couples. It's not the married part that bothers me, it's the couples part. It really sucks being the odd one out. I have a hard time stomaching it for two or three days at Christmas, and at least then I can rent a movie or close the door to my room. I'm not sure how this will work on a cruise boat. No TV. No door to my room (I'm sharing with my parents). No escqpe.
I'm sure I'll have a good time. I am just a spoiled brat who can't recognize a good cruise when she sees one. I just don't want to get all moody like I usually do when surrounded by happily married couples who don't have to deal with seperating from one's love on a regular basis. It's tough shit, people! Have a little sympathy and quit calling one another poopie-cutie names and snuggling so much! And it's not even their fault; it's my own uncontrollable anger-slash-annoyance that is the worst part of it. I'm really going to try to stay zen.
I also hear that the median age of these cruise thingies is pretty high. So I'm going to be doing some water aerobics and the like as well, I think. Looking forward to it.
I also think I'm going to try to go horseback riding. It's an optional excursion, and I haven't done any horseback riding since I was a teenager. I think I'd like it. Unfortunately, my entire wardrobe is made up of tank tops, and I saw the horseback riding pictures and I definetly saw snow on the ground, wherever it is they go. So I might freeze my little boo tay off.
Other than that, I'm not so sure what I'll do. I was planning on evening out my tan, as superficial as it is, for a solid week. But then I learned that it's just around 70 in Alaska. So that's shot. Luckily, I have many books. I will read them poolside. At the indoor pool. It's almost the same thing as tanning.
Totally unrelated: I watched Ellen Degeneres' show yesterday. That is some funny shit right there. And I don't even like daytime tv.
Something funny is happening: this time in the US, I want to stay here.
The last few years, I have really been struggling with where I want to be and why. I have been under the Parisian spell for five yeas, and now I consider that city my home. But being back in the US, talking to friends and family, feeling the ease of life here... I don't know. I wonder why I make my life such an uphill battle all the time, and I'm starting to think it's time to come home.
Mostly, this newfound appreciation for America is job-related. I could get a job - a real one - here with mild difficulty, as opposed to the extreme problems finding a real job poses in France. It's exciting to me to think about working on that whole career thing (that's about how vague it sounds in my head) and maybe going somewhere with myself. The idea of a steady income, maybe total financial independence... I could really get into that.
But there's more to it than that. I also like that things actually seem to FUNCTION here. America feels like a well-oiled machine. If I approach a person in the bookstore about a book I am looking for, he or she will be able to tell me where to find it. LORD, IT'S A MIRACLE! They have huge, natural-foods emporiums in this country, most homes appear to have sufficient storage space, and good God almighty, there's also a Target on every corner. Life in America isn't all about shopping, but the ease of the task is mind-boggling. And really pleasant. Because it works.
Wanna know why? It's that whole the-customer-is-always-right thing. It's a strange concept that also happens to be the most brilliant idea to date. I'm in YOUR store, yet it is ME, not you, who reigns. BEHOLD, the power of the shopper's credit card!
Seriously, though, I've had a love-hate relationship with this country ever since I left it. Now things are tipping in the general 'love' direction. My family and friends, for the most part, are all here. I know how this country works, and I vote in the presidential elections. I could potential be an active part of some American community. This is my home.
I'm worried about this realization, but I take a strange comfort in it. I'm ok with leaving France eventually - I've always seen it as more or less inevitable. But where would I go? What would I do? And what about The Boy?
I talked to my best friend last night. She's a bit of a metaphysical freak (in a good way) and she said, "Just live in the question for awhile. Not knowing is usually a lot more fun than knowing exactly where you want to go and what you want to do when you get there." She's right, but it's so easy to let the unknown lead to anxiety. So, I'm trying let the fear go and just allow all these questions to dangle in front of me for awhile as I entertain a few possibilities.
What a strange year this might turn out to be.
My house if a fucking mess and I have to pack. I'm leaving Paris tomorrow and I have yet to catch my breath since my return from Asia. I'm tired and sick and not looking forward to my flight tomorrow. I am, however, looking forward to seeing my parents and my dog again. Mom says the Rockster just got a haircut, and he's always so handsome when he comes back from the beauty parlor.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of a very long journey. In three weeks, I will: take a plane to Detroit, spend a few days in Ann Arbor (which will be spent a) going to Borders b) watching Jeopardy c) jogging and d) driving), take a plane to Minneapolis, spend a few days in Duluth, take a plane back to Detroit, spend a few more days in Ann Arbor, take a plane to Seattle, drive to Vancouver, take a boat to Alaska, fly to Seattle (?), somehow get to Portland, fly to New York (via Detroit) and then fly to Paris (via Amsterdam).
I'm seizing the insanity of this trip as a chance to mentally prepare myself for this year. I asked Omar the other day if she thinks I like to spread myself too thin. Her response was silence, which obviously means "yes," and I asked, somewhat exasperated "So you think it's too much to learn two languages, to write a master's thesis in a third, to do intensive yoga, to do some freelance writing, to teach English, and to insist on biking everywhere I go while still finding two hours or so a day to down the basic groundwork for my top-selling novel?" In my Fantasy Land, I could totally swing all of this, while still managing to go out to dinner every once in awhile and to see my man. But I think we all know that Fantasy Land is called Fantasy Land because it's never fully attainable. I've started thinking that maybe I should try to get more focus, ie pry-or-it-ize.
It's a tough balance. I don't *think* I want to repeat the insanity of last year (two jobs, full-time school, intensive Arabic), but looking back, I realized that's how I thrive. Last year was the second-happiest of my adult life (first being my first year in France, where everything was hunky dorey at all times and, on top of it, I got to fall in love with both a place and a person) even though it was exhausting and way over-the-top sometimes. Maybe I actually like overexertion. Maybe I do better in those situations. Maybe I really am as masochistic as I fear at times.
I don't know. I can't think of any element I want to eliminate. I think I'll just go ahead and get in over my head.
Luckily, no decisions have to be made today. I've got a lot of time in planes to think about it and make lists that I will never refer to again. Why is list-making such a rewarding thing to do? I probably come back to only 1/3 of the lists I ever make. It must be something type-a about me.
Blech, I'm in a terrible mood. I never get in bad moods... now I understand how shitty it must be to be a naturally moody person. I can recognize that my bad mood is totally irrational and not tied to anything in particular, but I'm still feeling crappy. I have to go clean the house and pack and cook some quiche and find my passport. Really, I just want to sit in front of my computer and read the news all day.
Ah, well. Body movin'. That's the only way I'm going to get out of this funk. I'll kill two birds with one stone and clean while listening to NPR.
PS You'll notice that the site looks different. I went the simple route and just made everything as streamlined as possible. This site has lost all its bells and whistles, but it works now, which is something. I don't know. I just had to make it not look like total shit for the entire time I'm in the States. Something had to be done.
My first days back were tough, mainly because I couldn't eat. Something wicked had anchored itself in my stomach, and it meant that every time I ate, I felt nauseous for half an hour and then spent the next three hours running to the toilet.
BUT, the good news is that I went to the pharmacy and the nice man gave me some pills to "clean out the system," as he put it. My insides are all sparkly now, and I managed to eat some rice pudding today, which means things are pretty much back on track. Yesterday, I even managed to stomach a screening of "Super Size Me," a flick that I found pretty entertaining and not an entire waste of money.
Now that I'm better, I'm all about projects. I have two days before I leave for the US again, and apparently I need to wash my floors, reorganize all of my paperwork, pay all of my bills, and end world hunger before I leave.
I've applied to a few jobs in the last few days, in case the assistantship thing falls through this year. I'm also thinking I'm going to give freelancing a try this year... the worst that can happen is I can get rejected multiple times. I have a few ideas for articles, and I'm thinking I'll write them when I get back to Paris in September. Then I'll try to sell them. I don't exactly know how to go about query letters and all that mumbo-jumbo, but that's what online guides are for. Oddly, I feel like something might pull through. I really never feel that way when it comes to jobs, so this is a strange thing indeed.
Meanwhile, I really need to make this web site look better, and I need to fix the assistants site. I don't know what's wrong with it, and it's really hot in Paris right now. It's breaking my usual concentration.
Come to think of it, so is the seven-year-old who is living with us semi-indefinetly. A good kid, but I'm spending all day tomorrow at the waterpark with him, so I don't see how that world hunger thing is going to get done before sundown. There's always Wednesday, though.
