Archives: October 2005
« September 2005 |
Main
| November 2005 »
Good Lord, am I down! Raining, pouring, whatever the hell you call it... the badness comes in waves, and sometimes they pull me under.
I can't get into much of it here. People, feelings, yada, yada. Don't want to hurt anyone, even if I'm hurting a little myself.
But let's just say things - in almost all parts of my life - appear to all currently fall on an unappealing spectrum going from shaky to extremely turbulant. At the forefront of my problems are some Boy-related issues. I know we love one another and that that should be enough, but sometimes it's just not. Sometimes he makes me furious, and then we get mad and yell and then I feel lonely and sad. I don't really want to see my friends or talk about this with anyone - it's my problem and nobody can understand it but me. Discussing a few key points with a friend last night almost led me to tears: his advice was to move out for a month or two and see if The Boy comes around. Right.
When I start questioning one thing, I start questioning them all, and such is the life of a hardworking girl with no real professional prospects living in a big foreign city. Woo-hoo! I feel like a loser who can hardly pay her own rent. Oh wait, I AM.
I don't know, maybe there's some hormones involved in the mayhem I'm feeling inside. Let's hope so. Mainly, I would just really like for The Boy to stop yelling at his computer and pounding his fist on the table. After a ten-hour day on a busy boulevard, I would really like to just come home to some peace.
Also? I have a 70-year-old client whom I like a lot. He's nice and quiet and timid and a little sad. Last week, he asked me if we could go out to dinner some time. He's lonely, I can tell. I didn't know what to do, and in an act of desperation I gave him my number and told him I'm busy for at least the next two weeks, thinking that I could tell him I wasn't interested on the phone with greater ease than I could in person. That was Thursday.
He called me three times on Saturday, once on Sunday, stopped by the store on Sunday (and I hid in the back), and then called again this morning before stopping by the store again this afternoon.
Um. Worrisome? Just a little.
So I had to tell this poor little old man off, as gently as I could. The conversation was soooo painful, I almost wanted to cry. He asked if we could go to dinner, and I said that I was really sorry, that I'm really busy, that it's going to be hard to find time, that I hardly even see my boyfriend anymore. As it is, the only time I see my friends is when we go out for a quick drink after work, around ten o'clock. Dinner, I said, would be almost impossible.
Undeterred, he said, "Well, that's no problem, I can come and pick you up after work around 10.00, and we could just go get a drink, if you want."
He's a 70-YEAR-OLD man, people. So, realizing he didn't get the point when I didn't call him back, didn't agree to dinner, told him I was "monumentally busy", and so on, I finally just gave up and told him that I didn't think it was a good idea if we went out, ever, at all, no matter what time of day.
He got the point and actually said, "I have to go for a walk to think about some things..." afterwards, which totally creeped me out.
It also just made me sad.
Wearing glasses all day sucks. I don't know how you people do it.
The last 48 hours have been a little hellish and annoying on a completely mundane and superficial level. After getting ridiculously "drunken" a few nights ago because the bar owner gave us two free carafes (when we had already had three bottles of wine), I got up early the next day to see the physical therapist (slightly hungover, too) and then go to work for eight hours. On three hours of sleep, physical therapy and standing all day is just not so fun. I had also woken up with a slightly irritated eye, an element which continued to irritate me further throughout the day.
1. Have you ever finished a book and felt lost afterwards? I have six books awaiting my reading. Which to choose? Maybe I just want to sit with the other (finished) one for a little while longer?
2. What's the point of wearing footies with your heels? Either suck it up and wear the nylons, or don't wear anything at all. That's my feeling, alright. That little trace of nylon skimming the rim of your shoes is most unappealing. Cute shoes, too. Why did you go and ruin a good thing?
3. I've been thinking a lot about money and how I need more of it. I have already confided in my closest friends - and now, here, to you, dear Internet - that I believe in my past life I was a noble. I think I had nice, pretty things and was surrounded by luxury. I have always had an overly strong appreciation for all things clean and new. However, I have accepted that in this life, I might not lead the life of the noble I believe myself to be (at heart). Yet, I would still like to come as close as possible to living in comfort as I can. While discussing the issue with a close friend (who dresses well) for several hours, we left her house this evening in the nice (leather-interiored) car of her boyfriend. Driving through the artistically-lit streets of Paris in his car, with Serge Gainsbourg as the background, my urge to be loaded down with cash became an almost physically tangible feeling. Oooo... to not have to compare the prices of the different types of tomatoes! How I would love to no longer add water to my dish soap! The Boy and I have had an informal yet monumental discussion concerning our finances, and we have stumbled upon the unspoken agreement that we will now drink our semi-daily (does that mean every-other-day?) coffee at the bar. Sitting at the table, it costs twice the price, and we just can't afford to continue throwing a precious 2,30 euros two or three times per week. I have, in fact, become the person I could never understand: the one for whom every euro counts. This is a tough life, for a noble. I have never been up such a shitty financial creek as I am right now, and I find myself hoping that my thread, needles, and generally positive outlook will get us through this rough patch that could last anywhere from a year to an eternity. Wish us luck.
Here's the snaps:
1. I got back into the swing of things today. In my morning classes, I met two random guys who are both very silly (said as a compromise between the other two adjectives I considered - "awkward" and "cute") and I kept finding myself trying to restrain my tendancy to over-giggle.
2. Started Arabic again on Tuesday and have re-learned as much in two days as I learned in my first six months the first time around. In other words: Lovin' it. I got a little high in class today, when I actually followed the insane, totally random path our professor took us down. I can tell this is going to be absolutely NUTTY, but I am already sad it's Friday, because it means I won't have class again for FOUR more days. And that, my friends, is exhibit A, proving me completely guilty of dorkiness.
3. Opted out of a party for this evening because things have been too insane lately for me to handle the overwhelmingness of lots of people and loud music. Preferring not to do the drunken galvanising so typical of those in my circle, I came home to my man and am about to set to reading. He opened a bottle of wine (VERY rare occurence around these parts since 2003) and it's so nice to sit and chat, or to sit in silence and not care. I made the right decision, for sure.
4. Went to buy a cheap dinner at the kebab joint, where they know me in a neighborhood-y way. We joked about getting a frequent customer card for The Boy, as he eats there whenever I am not around to cook dinner (read: 3-4 times per week). It was all cute and fun, but then the workers all smiled, got a little serious, and said, "Really though, he's a nice guy... we like having him around," and I got a little teary at knowing these people in my neighborhood and them offering me free tea. When I stepped out of the kebab joint, the guy at the pizza place up the street yelled out "You are adorable!" as he does every time I walk by (it's his thing - not sure why that particular phrase) and I giggled the whole way home at my neighbors and their cuteness. My apartment drives me crazy, but I love my 'hood.
5. Got an ipod as a present from my parents to celebrate my achievement at The Sorbonne, and I have already set it up to get NPR podcasts. That would be exhibit B.
Ok, I don't know what everybody on the other side of the ocean is saying, but I enjoyed Bill O'Reilly's little visit to The Daily Show. I don't think Jon crushed him or anything, but he instead allowed Bill to repeatedly make an ass of himself. I suppose Bill does that every day anyway, but it seemed extra-severe with the added boo-ing of audience members.
And what was that about the French boycott? I'm sorry? "What are you people from Marseille or something? Boo... booo... give me more wine..." I don't know if he said that for shits and giggles, but it sounded like something a fourth-grader would say to prove he knows something - anything - about France. And wait? What? Still BOYCOTTING? Aren't we over that, now?
I'm going to go watch it again, I think (you can, too, here if you're interested -- scroll down to Bill's face).
Also, pinhead?
I have been absent from this site for two reasons: one, because the domain name expired and I forgot to renew it (anybody know how many days it was down?) and two, because I have the greatest parents in the world.
Last week was my 26th birthday. It was honestly a rather somber affair -- everybody besides my brother (and parents) forgot. Fortunately, I had little time to be upset about it because my parents flew into town, and we left the following day to spend some time in London.
Dad had to work, but mom and I absolutely trampled the city - we must have covered a third of it on foot. I have to admire how well my mom held up - I'm thirty-five years her junior and my legs were wobbling by the time we got back to our hotel. However, we only rested a wee bit, as we had tickets to see "Guys and Dolls" (with Ewan MacGregor, no less!), so we charged our way (again, on foot!) over to Picadilly Circus for an entertaining evening.
The next day we managed to shop a bit (surprise, surprise) before flying back to Paris in the evening, the three of us hungry, tired, and dreading getting back to the airport - once again - the following morning.
But we did. We met up at 6.30, watching Paris come to life. After five hours of sleep, we had a coffee before getting back on the train, and then the plane. A few hours later, we found ourselves in Rome.
And we spent three lovely days there. We wore ourselves out, but also managed to eat lots of ice cream and drink enough cappucino to not feel stressed or over-tourisized. We giggled a lot, did crosswords, spent a day at the Vatican, another at Pompei, and putzed around on the streets. And the Gods (Greek, Roman, or otherwise) were obviously smiling down on us because we had picture-perfect weather throughout our entire trip. It felt like spring, but in October. It was an amazing time to visit Rome - much preferred to what I imagine could be a sweltering summer trip.
Two small remarks to sum things up:
1. Italians? They're really quite nice. I was surprised that even in the biggest, most annoyingly tourist-filled areas, the waiters/servers/etc all did their jobs with a smile. Even with laughter, sometimes. Maybe it's just because I come from the land of the freakishly reserved, but I found the Italians to be incredibly sweet.
2. My parents? Really great people. Considering I just spent a week straight with them, going from over-caffeinated to extremely tired and grumpy, we managed to get along swimmingly. They really are fun to travel with, and I feel lucky to be able to say that I get along with them like friends, not just as parents/daughter. We had lots of fun, and I would go again in a heartbeat.
So now I have a rather busy week ahead of me: school is starting and I have to sort out my work schedule, and I have random errands to run. But mom is here until Thursday, and I'm determined to make the most of her visit. Dad left for Beijing yesterday, and it already feels a little sad without him. When mom leaves it might just feel downright empty.
Anyway, all-in-all, a great way to spend the first week of my 26th year. I have no complaints, except that I wish every year could start of this way...
I went to my physical therapist's new office today. She has been gushing about the space for awhile - a vacant loft-like open room that her husband (he's a contractor) has been toiling away at for the last week. Her description involved faux-window rooftops, with seperate little cabins, the outsides painted different colors to resemble an Italian village.
The whole thing sounded frankly nutty to me, but when I walked into the cobbly, wobbly courtyard and up to her brand new door, I was downright amazed. There are six different cabins for patients, each with their own door and window, and they really do make me think of Italy. There is a waiting area with plants and big windows, looking out onto a private garden. They have truly worked miracles, and seeing her new digs has made me realize something that has caused me to be dreamy, sad, and wistful all at once: I would like some space to play with.
Ideally, this space would be up on the last floor, with wooden floors, high ceilings, and an entire wall (or half-wall) of windows. It would need lots of work, and I would be able to play with the space as necessary.
While maintaining my conversation with the PT today, I wandered my way through a long and detailed reverie that involved installing my own kitchen and creating the equivalent of my sister's "craft corner" (it's amazing and I'm jealous, but that's ok). I fully walked through the apartment of my dreams, examining each section in detail, when the lack of finances reality came wandering through the front door.
And of course, I remembered that I am still begging my landlord to replace our crappy pull-out couch (I rent a crappily-furnished apartment), which means I am a long way from having my special loft space.
However, in working on my thesis, little by little, I have discovered something new in myself that I had previously been unaware of: I actually have a reasonable capacity for patience. My next aim is to exploit it.
So here's the plan: work slowly but surely, and eventually become a millionaire.
That's all I need to get the space of my dreams.
Can't be that hard, right?
Lordy, Lordy. This is insane.
My thesis director loved my paper. I mean, he really, really liked it, and gave me a good grade (that I was completely not expecting). He may use part of it for some sort of publication he's working on, but I'm not exactly sure what he means by all that (I started zoning when he was talking about it because it involved some sort of dialogue-reading software...?).
Then he even went so far as to say that he really couldn't think of any criticism whatsoever, which I believe is the first and last time I will ever believe a Frenchie when they say that.
So he almost freakishly praised it, and then asked me if I would consider continuing working on the same topic at the doctorate level. I bathed in the praise so much that I almost forgot how much I hated the researching/writing of the damn thing, and I found myself thinking, "Hey, a doctorate could be good..."
But Christ, I think if there is one thing I have learned in this experience, it would be: think before you go for the doctorate, yo.
The other thing I learned is: less work + less stress = better outcome in less time. It's a curious equation, I know, but I found it to be true in this case.
Regardless, this was my favorite thing, of all things my professor said: "This is so well-written, so clear, precise, and scientific, that it's obvious whoever wrote it did not go through French schooling."
So in the end, I have a fancy diploma from a fancy school (perhaps even with some fancy honors?) that I won't do much of anything with. But still. I can actually say that I'm proud of this. I'm sort of uncomfortable with the feeling, but there you have it.
