Life is skittles and life is beer

Okay maybe it's not, but this is the traditional song to sing when Spring has arrived. Although you really couldn't tell. It's a balmy 50 degrees outside, but it's rainy. I was really motivated to hit up the markets this morning, but I am officially over it.

Anyway, my week of distraction officially culminated on Friday with a birthday party for someone I've never met before, as is one of the great joys of having friends who go to different schools, and then them having friends all over the world as well. After a few shots of the worst whisky ever to come out of Scotland, we headed over to the birthday girl's apartment (Molly), who had decorated her door with a George Bush poster and declared it an America-only zone, so we could properly celebrate her 21st birthday in spite of the fact that here she's just another year older. But there were three French people there, all guys, and one of them sang us some songs on the guitar. And then Richard played "What I Got" and "American Pie" (we'll overlook the fact that Richard is, actually, Canadian). Ohhh the nostalgia. And at one point about five of us stood in a circle and shared a bottle of warm champagne while having a heated argument about whether marijuana actually ruins your life. At around 2 we headed back to Stephanie's because Matt and Joe had to catch a flight at 6, which meant they had to catch a bus to Orly around 3. But since everyone was of a varying degree of drunk/stoned/horny, it was more like 4 by the time we left. So they caught a cab to the airport, and I caught one home from Montparnasse. That's the second time I've taken a cab in two weeks, but I can't help it. To get home from Montparnasse takes wo night buses, or one bus and an unpleasant walk from Gobelins. It doesn't help that Parisian taxes are just so nice. Pretty much the only place I've ever taken taxis is Las Vegas, and it's always cheesy Ford Queen Victoria's with overly squishy tan seats. In Paris they're always shiny and clean with black leather interior, like a town car. And they line up at the taxi stands all nice and neat (as opposed to every other line-up situation in Europe) and it's just too easy. Anyway, it was very romantic, that cab, probably because I was drunk.

Sadly, all of those fun and games are over now and for the next three weeks I have to keep my head down and work my ass off. This is made more grim by my still as-yet-unsolved housing issues. My property manager never got back to me on Friday, and my landlady hasn't emailed me back (either she REALLY hates me more than I thought, or she died. Honestly this woman wouldn't stop checking her Blackberry if she was deep-sea diving). So I brainstormed a couple of options: one is to find a sublet for two weeks at the beginning of June. The other is to pray that two of my professors will give the finals the first week of June. Then I would move out on the 31st, stay somewhere for a few days, and then change my flight and go home a week early. Shit like this is always happening to me, man. The problem is that it's so up in the air right now that I can't do anything but wait. I need an absolution and then I'll go about fixing the problem, although for all I know there might not be a problem. Gah. I'm already shifting into full-swing for a San Francisco apartment, I don't need this crap as well.

On the other hand, all of this nervous energy is making me really motivated. Yesterday I emailed Madame LeMarchand to check up on my graduation credits so I can figure out if I need to a take a French class in the fall. My schedule is going to be packed. I don't know when/if I'm going to work. Or if I can get some sort of internship. Or if my mom would be willing give me more money so I could intern. Or if I could even get an internship since I don't have any clips right now. We need to have a phone conference. And I need to make an appointment with my journalism adviser this summer. And I need to find a good vet to clean my cat's teeth. A load of crap awaits me in San Francisco, but what doesn't await me is a well-paying job. For all the crap this assistant job has put me through, it's totally worth the 750 euros a month, no doubt.

Rater la vie

Well this past week was pleasantly long. Saturday night I picked up the broseph at CDG and we immediately went for kebabs and beer on the Contrescarpe. The rest of the week (until Wednesday, okay) involved lots of walking, lots of sight-seeing, and two disappointing excursions (Catacombs are closed, Eiffel Tower was a nightmare). Anyway, it was still really good. Matt got in Sunday night so we did some lame college student things like sitting around at home smoking weed and looking at You Tube videos. Of course there were many culinary excursions as well, because let's be honest, that's my specialty. Many-a-crêpe was consumed, as well as some delicious bakery items, and even a 40 euro lunch at Les Deux Magots, funded by mother dearest. We also introduced Sean to tecktonik and chavvy French guys with gelled-down mohawks. It rained a lot that wasn't so pleasant, but such is life I suppose.
Yesterday morning we got up at 6 to get Sean on the RER to the airport. I had requested that my mom get him a flight around 10 so he could leave and I could go to work at the same time. It would just figure that my first two classes got canceled so I didn't have to be at work until 10:30. So after I dropped him off, I went home and slept for another 45 minutes, then got up and typed up a dialogue for the lesson. I made it to the train with plenty of time to spare, and hopped on a bus the second I walked out of the station in Marly le roi. Unfortunately I'm retarded or something and I got on the right bus, but I thought it was the wrong bus, so I got off. I completely disregarded the fact that in the middle of the day in the small towns, the buses come about once an hour. I had noticed we were going in a weird direction before I got off the bus, so I followed the church and apartment buildings near the school to make sure I could locate then when I got off the bus. I used my incredible sense of direction to walk toward where I thought the school was, and ended up only losing about 15 minutes. I couldn't believe it. I was definitely on the total opposite side of the town. And then of course my 10:30 class got canceled so I did nothing in the teacher's lounge until 1:30. So by then I decided to improvise my lesson plan cuz I didn't want to waste it on half a day of teaching.
I was exhausted when I got home, but Matt said we were going to a party so I showered, blew dry and straightened my hair, the whole shebang. The party ended up not happening so he and Joe and I just hung and did whatever, I don't even know. There's supposed to be a real party tonight.
Today I am consciously ditching History of France. The class was canceled on Tuesday and there is a make-up today, but I'm just over it. That and the fact that I need to stay by my phone in case my property manager calls back. Turns out my landlady rented my apartment out the first of June, even though she told me (and I agreed with the summer tenant) to split the month of June. Although apparently this summer tenant I've been talking with is in fact, not the summer tenant. So I emailed my mentally unstable landlady and hopefully this will get sorted out. Maybe I will get a sublet for the first two weeks of June? The most irritating part is that Lauren will be here until the 3rd and it not fair to her if she has to be there while I'm packing and cleaning and generally being a headcase, which always happens when I move. And that I will have to immediately start moving when we get back from Greece. And freaking out about moving will inevitably fuck up my mood in Greece. Cross your fingers for a miracle.

Poisoning pigeons in the park

Spring is almost here, people. In the two weeks I was off of work and school, the time completely changed. On Thursday morning I went to work and by the time I was on the train between La Défense and St. Cloud, it was full-on daylight. I can still see the monuments obviously, plus the domes of the pantheon and Les Invalides. What doesn't make any sense to me is that if I remember correctly, when the time changes in the fall at home, it gets brighter in the morning and darker in the evenings. Right? We move the time back one hour, and then what it looked like at 8 am becomes what it looks like at 7? Here I think it gets darker and lighter in both directions -- during the winter the sun comes up at 8-ish and goes down at 6-ish, in the summer it comes up at 7-ish and goes down at 9-ish. Essentially, it makes no sense.

SFSU finally posted the summer school schedule, and let's just say I'm less than pleased. For one thing, this whole summer school venture was created by the head of the journalism department, who told me to take reporting last summer and then magazine writing this summer. Well, magazine writing isn't being offered this summer. There are only 3 journalism classes compared to last summer's 6. At least there's an advanced writing class, feature writing, which is the requirement I need to fill. I won't graduate with the magazine sequence, but whatever. Feature writing covers magazine writing (it's all long-form) and then I'll take contemporary magazines and get enough practice there. The other class I need to take is something about politics for GE. I wanted to take the women's studies class but the time doesn't work. I would have class every morning which is no good if I want to work. So instead I'm going to take the lame American politics class online and not even worry about going to campus.

I am really not ready to go back and buckle down. It's my senior year. I need to take these classes, I need to get some sort of internship. But I still need my job? Can I find a paid internship? I would feel really weird asking my mom to finance my clothes and entertaining so I could get an unpaid internship. Especially after three years of supporting myself there. I dunno. Second semester I want to take the news bureau class (in lieu of writing for the school paper) again, so I can do writing and fact-checking and stuff for real Bay Area papers and get some experience there. I've pretty much accepted that I'm going to stay in San Francisco for a little while after graduation. And actually, I'm okay with it. Unless some magical job opens in New York, I think it would be worth it to cultivate myself a little bit in a smaller market, then move to New York and hopefully be in a graduate program so I won't have to be full-on working in New York. I'm really going to try to visit Matt in New York this next year, if only so he can take me to NYU to talk to the journalism department. And stand in line to get into a taping of The Daily Show, of course. That's about all I want to do.

Other than that stuff, my first week back in grind went pretty well. Only five more weeks of work, four and a half if you count the day after Easter. In my American civilization class on Tuesday, this guy passed me a note (in English) with his email address(es), saying he wasn't sure if I spoke French or not but he wanted to "keep in touch." Before class, two girls standing about 10 feet away from me were whispering to each other and I thought I heard my name, but I always think I hear my name. Then this guy went up to them and whispered too, and I heard my name again. Woo look at the American girl! I feel like a zoo animal. Anyway, I think that's how he got my name. And you can never really tell whether people want to date you or practice their English, but I'm pretty sure this was the former. I showed the note to Keisha and told her it was from some gangsta in a fuzzy-hooded jacket, and immediately she goes, "Oh, honey, no." My thoughts exactly. I really like taking that class and my translation class, but I do get the feeling that the French students are a little territorial. Which is bullshit because Laetitia (French girl at SFSU) was always having these deep conversations with professors about whatever dumb poem we were reading and it wasn't fair to wonder what the hell she was doing there if she already knew French. Besides, I've learned stuff in American civilization that they would have never told us in America. Like we're full of religious nuts and think we're god's gift because we were founded by crazy Calvinists.

So there you go. I'm not a circus freak.

La rentrée

I'm starting to think these long French vacations might not be such a good day. These kids have a week or two off for every six weeks of school. That means a week in November, two weeks for Christmas, two weeks in winter, then another two weeks for spring. After two weeks I'm usually adapted to my new vacation lifestyle and I have to drag myself back to the real world. However, I somehow got through yesterday relatively smoothly. This probably had a lot to do with the fact that I was extremely well rested after break, so even though I had about 5 intense dreams and woke up in between each of them, I was pretty energetic yesterday. It might've helped that I ran up about 6 flights of stairs to barely make my train on time. I really need to be in the metro at 6:50 in case, like yesterday, I miss the 6:52 train and another doesn't come for 6 minutes. You never realize how a few minutes can make a huge difference in your life until you have a 7:18 train to catch. Regardless, I made it. Next challenge of the day was the mother fucking hurricane going on outside. It was really picking up right at 10 am, when I was making the 10 minute walk in between schools. I was wearing a hat and coat and boots and brought my umbrella, but for whatever reason I decided my raincoat wasn't necessary. But of course you can't use the damn umbrella because it will turn inside out and impale you. So I just dealt with the pelting rain.
As far as classes, it wasn't that bad. A couple times I had to sip some water because the yelling was making my voice crack, but I think the kids got their energy out over break. I'm almost finished with the textbook thing I've used to teach them (which I'm not even sure is an ideal method, but it's just not French to tell me what they want me to use) and I'm glad because soon it's going to be all speaking, all the time. It's more work for me but it's better for the kids and keeps them more entertained. The little ones always want to sing songs, which is good for them but I can't help but feel like a giant dork. When I was in French classes I hated singing songs. Godfrey used to make us sing along to Notre Dame de Paris and I just couldn't control myself. The one hit was a Carla Bruni song, so maybe playing some popular music would work better. I could make them sing The Beatles or *NSYNC or something (haha). Or maybe a nice, resounding chorus of "Rehab," since they like it when I emphasize England (I don't think they realize that I didn't know what "pants" meant in England until recently, or that a bollock is an actual thing. I'm really not an expert). It's like asking them to teach me about Québec. Fuck if they know anything about those separatists, right? Same deal.
Anyway, I will solider on. When I got home, it looked like a tornado had ripped through my apartment. And actually, that's kind of what happened. Aside from leaving my raincoat at home, my #2 dumbass achievement of the day was not locking one of my windows (the one above my bed) before I left. When I walked in, the thing was wide open and there half the things on my nightstand had blown off, including about 200 flashcards. There was a puddle under the window, and my poor cat was freezing. In fact he spent the rest of the night spooning my leg under the covers. However this assuages my fear that he will jump out the window if given the chance -- it was probably open for 5 or 6 hours and he's still alive. I really can't wait for this hellish weather to pass. Clouds, rain, and cold are one thing -- but things like hail and hurricane winds are way over the top.

Relax, dammit

I've been on break for a week now, and while I've thoroughly relaxed and I feel mostly normal again, I've got this knot in my stomach that won't go away. I don't know whether it's about work, school, money or whatever. All of those things pose a little stress right now, but nothing is so dire that it should be hanging over me like this. Especially because I have all the time in the world to sort everything out right now.

But onto other things. Last night I went to the gym and twice experienced something that I have always noticed but maybe notice more in Paris. Probably because in Paris you spend so much time in full public and people are just everywhere. But it's this: men have Tourette's. Obviously it's not all of them but it's enough that I notice it rather regularly. Men just feel they have the right to make comments about women whenever they feel like it. It's one thing to stare, but it's another thing to blurt something out and make yourself look like a total douche. I never wrote this down here, but a couple weeks ago when I was with Lauren, we stopped to get her a crepe close to Chatelet. This drunk/high/medicated dude with a surprising amount of cash on him (which he dropped all over the floor), stumbled up to the stand and started expounding the virtues of a Greek sandwich to me. Whatever, I humored him. He noticed us speaking English and tried to tell us about how good his English was. Things were all fine and dandy until, in French, he started to ask me what we were going to do after we screwed (okay, he said "faire amour" but whatever). At first I thought I'd understood wrong until he started making gestures. So I said, rather calmly, "You speak English? Okay, fuck off."

Clearly that is an extreme example, but just last night at the gym I got two comments from men between the gym and the metro. The first was from some chav (I wish I knew a word to describe them in French -- I think "beauf" applies) who was like "C'est le soir du sport ou quoi?" I didn't say anything, but usually when I get comments from teenage boys late at night in that mall, I blurt out "fuck you" and they are thoroughly embarrassed at having offended this American girl. Anyway, I was going down the stairs in the metro when one of the guys tiling the wall elbowed his partner and told him to look at me. I walked right by them and just as I made eye contact and gave him my meanest scowl, he blurted out "trop belle." Seriously, dude. And it's not just dragueurs, either. The other night in the grocery store, some guy walked by me and remarked, "Quels longs cheveux." (Such long hair). He was old and clearly not hitting on me, but it was like, shut up! You're evolved enough to have inner monologue for a reason. If I ever have a son I'm going to teach him that it's inappropriate to make unsolicited comments to women, and only a dumb slut would respond in kind.

On another (and happier) topic entirely, Lauren and I booked plane tickets and hostel beds to Greece yesterday. We will fly to Crete, stay for a night, next night onto Santorini for two nights, then Ios for a night, then the last day and night will be spent doing cultural and historic things in Athens because it's mandatory. Crete, too, will be spent exploring Minoan ruins. In Santorini we will sip cocktails at the pool and lay on some volcanic black sand beaches. No joke, this 14 euro/night (for a private room) hostel has a pool and a deck. And in Ios we will get rip-roaring drunk and spend the next day nursing hangovers on the beach (apparently Ios is the Cancun/Daytona Beach of Greece). Somewhere in there I want to rent a Vespa and drive around an island -- we'll see if I'm up to it. And then an overnight ferry (*fingers crossed*) will take us to Athens and our hostel two minutes away from the Acropolis. I'm so glad that it's all booked, I can't even express. I actually got an email from the Santorini hostel last night telling us to give them our ferry times so they can pick us up and drop us off at the port. All that's left to do is check the ferry schedules every day so I can book that overnight ferry.

In addition, Matt emailed me yesterday to tell me that he'll be coming to Paris for a week at the end of his spring break, and that Joe will be showing up the last couple days. I am overjoyed 1) because they were both supposed to come for all of March for internships but couldn't work out the housing, and 2) my brother will be here that week so it'll be a big party. This semester is going to be so full of visits and travel, I'm almost worried about schoolwork. So far I think the only "project" I have will be an exposé in my French civilization. And I'm actually missing the last class of French history for Greece, but I don't believe there's a final in that class either. If there's a quiz that day, well, I'll figure something out.

In the mean time, I'm going to try to quell this pit in the bottom of my stomach.