Archives: February 2006
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The Boy and I have been having lots of fun over the last 72 hours. One of us (me) had the great idea to change our telephone/internet plan. Instead of paying God-knows-how-much for our phone, and then 35 euros/month for our internet, I suggested we mesh the two and sign up with Neuf Telecom. They have a deal: 29,90 euros/month for high-speed internet and UNLIMITED calls throughout France, Europe, the US, Canada, India and China. World powers, unite!
As almost all of my American friends only have cell phones, it costs me so much money to call anyone I love on the other side of the ocean. Neuf is the only company I know of that not only provides unlimited calls to the States, but also to CELL PHONES in the States.
After spending 143 euros on our phone bill last month (80 euros of which was to cell phones within France - not my phone calls, I would like to point out), The Boy agreed to the change.
So I got online a few weeks ago, signed up, and totally forgot about it.
Read more »Read this question, come up with an answer, and then read below for the result. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads. Generally, only a certain personality-type will get it right.
A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing. She believed him to be her soul-mate so much so that she fell in love with him on the spot, but she never asked for his number and could not find him.
A few days later she murdered her sister.
Question: What is her motive for killing her sister?
[Give this some thought before you answer]
[Seriously, it's worth it to think about it some]
I might just be the biggest dork on the planet, but I wanted to share a discovery I made with my co-dorks. I figure if you're reading some stranger's (or friend's/sister's/etc.'s) weblog, then you're probably a dork, too. Sorry if I offended anyone out there. But it's better to just accept your dorkdom now, and move on...
Anyway, so for anybody who is ok with their dorkdom and wants to revel in it, I just signed up with the GREATEST web site ever. It's called Lynda.com - for $25/month (or $250/yr, but no thanks) you can have unlimited access to TONS of computer software courses. Ok, ok, so they're not interactive. But I have to learn FileMaker Pro for my future job, and honestly, it's not exactly the most intuitive tool ever. But I've done a few hours of a 7.5-hr series, and already I am totally rocking the database, yo.
Next up, I am going to do Flash - I've always wanted to learn Flash, but outside of my one three-hour course I took five years ago, I have never found a program that I could afford. If I finish the FileMaker Pro learning soon enough, I'll be able to smoosh in the Flash learning, and the whole deal will only have put me out $25.
Hell, I could extend that to two months ($50) and I'd still be saving about $750. Those courses - in "real" life (not online) - are not cheap.
Anyway, if you're into computers, or have some specific software you've always wanted to learn (they have them ALL, I swear), check out lynda.com. I've been super-impressed.
Everything starts again tomorrow. Arabic classes begin again, my new job starts sometime this week. Responsibility and 7 am wake-up calls. All on Monday.
Which, of course, is why I woke up today with a swollen throat. I can hardly swallow. I wish I were faking it.
But I am also here to tell you that I saw the documentary "Born Into Brothels" (called "Camera Kids" in France - weird, because that's not really a translation from English to French, either, but whatever). It was AMAZING. After doing some research, I read that it won the 77th Annual Academy Aware for Best Documentary, so it better be. But still... so good.
It's about a group of kids in the Calcutta's red light district who befriend an American (?) photographer, Zana. She is interested in shooting images of the prostitues in the district - but soon realizes it's impossible to do so. The prostitutes are afraid of being seen in photos, as prostitution is, in the end, illegal. Over time, she begins giving the kids photo lessons, and the whole thing sort of morphs into a process of discovery for them. Eventually, we get to see their world through their own eyes, which is most definetly more interesting than seeing it through an outsider's. Zana hopes to get them into schools, and she sets up events to sell their photos as a way to pay their tuition. The whole thing is absolutely incredible... see it if you can.
That is all.
I am particularly touched by the story of Jill Caroll for a few reasons. The background: Jill Caroll is a freelance writer for the Christian Science Moniter. She was kidnapped in Baghdad on January 7, and has appeared only in released videos since that date.
Jill is from my home town, only two years older than me, and graduated from my high school. Although I don't know her personally (by name/face only), it hits home.
She is not a CNN reporter who has just plopped herself down in Baghdad to report from the roof of some journalist-safe building. She arrived in Iraq in 2003; she has learned Arabic, studied Iraqi history and culture, and - according to many sources - really become a part of that society.
I admire any journalist who takes the plunge whole-heartedly into their career. It is impressive for me that a peer has done so, and I admire her courage during what must be a terrible experience.
That's why I guess it was sort of moving to see that Parisians are rallying around her - and former French hostage Florence Aubenas played a part. At least there is some solidarity - somewhere - even in the midst of all this mess.
Juliette Binoche in Paris on Tuesday at a rally for Jill Caroll.
I did something weird the other day: I took out my tongue ring.
It was a bit of an impulse thing. I had been thinking about it for awhile - months, sort of, but only vaguely - when I found myself sitting alone in front of my computer, having the following conversation with myself:
Me: Maybe you should take out your tongue ring.
Me: Yeah. Maybe? But it feels like an actual part of me. I've had it for almost ten years!
Me: I know, it's hard to let go. But maybe that's the very point. It's just a THING. You SHOULD be able to let go.
Me: Oh my God, you're right! Shit. Should I? Is this the type of thing where I need to learn to just do it and move on?
Me: I think it is, kiddo. Plus, how many freakin' teeth have you chipped? Remember when you lied to the dentist about it?
Me: Yeah...
Me: Is it really that important to you, in the end?
Me: I don't know.
The secret thoughts that I didn't want to admit to myself I was having were the following:
1. Are you just doing this because your dad hates the tongue ring? Or are you keeping it in for that reason?
2. What is the boyfriend going to think? Is it going to...um... alter anything?
3. What are you going to play with when thinking about something while reading?
Before I knew it, I was pulling the damn thing out. It's still sitting in my special box on my desk, not quite sure of where it wants to be. I guess it's just waiting for a permanent home until I decide I'm not going to re-pierce my tongue (at home, alone, in front of the mirror) like the last time I took my tongue ring out for a month (it hurt).
But this time I think it's really gone.
It feels kinda funny, honestly. Not just on a physical level - because that totally feels weird too... it's like, hello! Fronts of my teeth! - but also on a psychological level. It sounds lame, but that ridiculous barbell really was a part of me in some dumb, teenage way, and I really do sort of miss it.
But I spent the first five minutes after taking it out trying to perfect my rolled Spanish/Arabic R's, which - although not perfect - are far easier to do without a piece of metal getting in the way.
I guess I just wanted to grow up. Get a real job and all that (next thing you know, I'm going to be wearing blazers) Anyway, feels weird, but feels right.
The other piercings are staying, though, man. Damnit.
I managed to pull myself away from the Ebay Devil for a few hours last night and hang with my dawgs. What started as an innocent comment while eating Korean food cooked by Kathypath two weeks ago ("I bet The Boy would really like this") turned into a plan ("Why don't we cook some for him?"). However, "cooking" Korean food involves leaving it to ferment for a long time in a jar, so we had three weeks to waste away.
That's when the boys said, "Well, why don't we cook food for you two in the interim?"
I just about fell off my chair when I heard that. I've known The Boy for 6.5 years. He has cooked "for" me once - and I cooked the meal just as much as he did. So when his best friend - Mr. Sarcastic - told me he managed to convince The Boy to cook the entire meal - just by the power of suggestion - I felt that the universe had done gone and turned itself inside out.
A friend, Kdogg, and I are hoping to travel this August. This might be news to my family and friends, as Kdogg and I just as-close-to-finalized-plans as possible yesterday, but I now have a goal: make cash for the trip.
I'm hoping to start my new job as soon as the paperwork comes through. Despite my flirting adventure, I still haven't gotten anything in my mailbox permitting me to work at my future place of employment. Typical, right? Those MEN. All game, no discipline. So I'm just stuck here waiting.
In the meantime, I have hooked up with an independent bookbuyer/seller around Paris. Let's call him ScarfBoy. When ScarfBoy first moved to Paris, he loved on Odessa Street, too, so obviously he's alright in my book.
He's extremely positive, and refreshingly smart without being pompous about it. On more than one occasion, I've caught myself being impressed by his cultural knowledge (art, history, etc). However, he is extremely technologically challenged. I am not. So it's a bit of a match made in heaven, as he has 70 cartons of books to sell, but it's the internet that has the market for them. Books, meet Ebay. Ebay, meet books.
So I spend my free time (?) uploading books, writing descriptions, researching prices. Most of the time, ScarfBoy's ideal prices are dead on. It's actually quite amazing - he usually only wavers by a euro or two. Twice now, however, I have found books that he originally bought at only 5 or 6 euros to be listed as selling at 90 or 100 euros. He only asks for 20 or 30, but I secretly hope the Ebay markets work in our favor. Still - selling them at 20 is better than not selling them at all, so we put the minimum price. Then we just cross our fingers.
ScarfBoy and I split the profits. That is, from whatever money we make, we first pay for the original price of the book, and then the price it cost to put online. Whatever's left, we split. I can't LOSE money in the adventure, but I can lose some time. However, time is money, so does it come back to me losing money? In the end, I like to think of it as a no-risk deal for me.
The main point of the story is that I have become fully and COMPLETELY obsessed with Ebay. I used to sort of psycho buy (that one experience with the needles really got to me, as did the tortilla press battle), but I gave up after I got the few things I really "needed." Now, however, I sort of psycho sell. I can't stop monitering my products! I can't stop obsessing over what's selling and what's not! Stop me!
I'm wondering if the Ebay people knew how addictive their tool would be. It's overwhelming sometimes. I try to restrain myself, but just can't help logging in. Five times a day.
