Counting Your Eggs

Well, hello there. It's been a while. You've grown. But this blog sure hasn't, and okay, I was pretty bad... I even deleted it a few months ago but it's back (mostly because I had to retrieve an entry from it, but here we are).

I wouldn't say my life has drastically changed in the past few months. I still work at the same place, live in the same place, see the same people every day. A dull litany of monotony.

Only one thing really has changed: I've become a freelance writer. No, really, it's technically official. I get paid to write stuff. Granted, I've only had one job and it's still "in progress" but it's a start. I'm not going to count my eggs before they've hatched. But I've applied for a few more jobs and gotten some bites that might develop into actual paying jobs, so I can officially say that I'm a freelance writer now.

I don't really know what I'm working towards with the freelance thing except that it could be the thing I'm supposed to be doing with my life. You know? I've gone through most of my life with varying levels of passion for things and they all seem to fizzle with time, and I went all the way through college not knowing what I wanted to do, and two years later still not knowing. But here I am with this new opportunity and god, the idea of working from home is extremely appealing. At the moment, I have to work around my other job which limits the jobs I can apply for since a lot of them want 24/7 availability.

I know I only just started (literally, signed up last month), and I'm going slow because there's no rush, but I got one job and I've got two potential on the table, so I'd say it's a good start. Here's hoping I'll be able to sustain something in the new year and maybe, just maybe, I'll find a way to do this full time and quit my crappy job. Woo!

until the sea drowned the sun

November is probably too far off for most people to be thinking about yet, but for me, this is prime time to think of November.

If you recall, November is National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo or just NaNo) in which doomed souls partake in the challenge to write a 50k word novel in 30 days or less. Until last week, I had no plots or even ideas, that is until I stole one... But don't worry! I stole it from my best friend with her permission. Originally, the idea had been for a fake movie meme that filtered through tumblr a few months ago in which you take a few celebrities, a song from shuffle, and make up a plot with these. It's quite fun.

So I stole it and am in the process of plotting out the novel. So far I've got about seven pages of character development but no plot... haha. Typical. Quelle surprise. But here, have the (newly redesigned) fake movie poster!

The coloring in the title got a little screwed up on here, but that's okay. So... when my novel is made into a movie guess who should play the title roles? Haha.

signs point to yes

My Magic 8 Ball sits on my shelf, the desolate shelf that I cleared last summer in preparation that I would actually do something when I got back from France. It sits there along with one framed picture of my childhood. The little blue die inside is slightly battered, white where it's hit the circular window over the years, always popping up to answer my question.

When I was younger, I'd ask, "Does so-and-so like me?" I can't say my questions have gotten much better over the years. This morning, I asked, "Will today be a good day?" Yesterday, I asked, "Will there be a lot of baths today?" The day before, I asked, "Will my schedule be changed again today?"

As a Freshman in high school, we had daily announcements by the principal and every day, he'd end with, "You can make it a great day or not... the choice is yours." The choice was mine. I never made that choice.

Nowadays, my Magic 8 Ball makes the choice for me. It tells me yes or no, a good day or not. If it tells me it can't make a decision, I shake it again. The poor, battered die. For years it has answered my questions, and for years, it has been right. Or perhaps it hasn't been. Perhaps it tells me, I believe it, and because I believe it, it's right.

Magic 8 Ball, you will always be right.

every night is like a revival.

Just the other day, I was lamenting yet again) about my current state of life, but I read blog today about twentysomethings and why we all feel so old. We feel old because we have expectations of where we should be at certain points in our lives, specifically in our twenties, and if we're not there, we feel a failure somehow, we feel old.

When I was younger and had a clear view of my life (I was going to be a veterinarian and own about 50 dogs), twenty-four seemed so very far away. I didn't know anyone who was twenty-four. Now I'm twenty-four and the oldest of all my immediate friends which is strange because as a child, I always got along much better with people older than me. There are times when the age differences are glaring to me, even if it's just a few years, and that makes me feel older than ever.

However, I had a brief shining moment of clarity today. It didn't last long, but I thought I'd share it while I still feel this way. It comes and goes, you see.

I am twenty-four, but in my twenty-four years, I've done things that a lot of people would never dream of: I moved to China with no knowledge of the language or what I was really getting into, I moved to France, I traveled to 13 countries, many by myself, I published a novel and wrote four more. I wrote four screenplays, and as bad as most of them are, who do you know who has?

As a kid, I was generally the odd one out. I had a few close friends but very little beyond that aside from acquaintances since it was a small town and I knew everyone in my grade since kindergarten. I loved animals and spent hours reading books and memorizing facts and generally being a huge nerd. Luckily for me, that wasn't unexpected in my town. The whole place was a little odd, and admittedly, I'm very glad we moved away.

The point is, I've never been normal. I've never had normal jobs or done normal things. The closest I came to normal was in college working at a restaurant, but I was promoted to student manager so it wasn't exactly normal again. Now I work at a dog kennel which I also did for two years in high school. My life isn't normal. Most people never think of doing that job because it's not fast food or retail, and sure, it's not going to get me much anywhere but it's more interesting than saying, "I cook hamburgers for a living."

I've always been okay being not normal which I guess means I have to accept that at twenty-four, whatever life goal I'm supposed to be hitting won't be happening. The youth really is wasted on the young.

I've been initiated

Got my first (well, second ever but whatever) dog bite yesterday. Currently hurts like hell if anything touches it and there's a lovely swelling bruise around where the lower incisor was. What sucks most is that it's on my forearm, so... quite visible and unfortunately a place that touches things a lot like the computer, my body, anything I lay it on. Hopefully it will go down by the time I have to work again. Boo.

on bathing dogs

What's the highest amount of dogs you've ever given a bath in one day? If you said zero or one, you're probably like most normal people out there. My number is twelve. Top that.

I don't mind bathing them, unless they try to bite me. Then it's not so enjoyable. My least favorite part is drying because it takes a long time, and if you don't know me, I'm not the most patient person and if things take too long, I speed them up or take shortcuts. Can't take shortcuts drying a dog. It's either dry or it's not and you have to keep going until it is.

The worst dog to bathe, you ask? Shepherds. They have a ton of hair and no matter how much you brush, there's still more to come off. I swear their owners never think of actually buying a brush and doing it themselves. There are these things called pet shops, and, gasp, they sell pet supplies such as brushes and nail clippers and shampoo. Yes, things other than food and toys. Hard to believe, I know.

I wonder how many I'll have to bathe tomorrow. Shall we try to break my new personal record? I'd rather not.

fill it with unleaded

When I was younger, I didn't think it was abnormal in any way to pull into a gas station and have an attendant come out and do the gas for you. I grew up thinking it was like that everywhere, and it wasn't until I was 12 and I went to D.C. that I realized it wasn't as normal as I thought.

In Oregon, you are not allowed to pump your own gas. When I moved to Arizona, I thought it was so strange having to do it yourself, and by the time I got my driver's license, I was sort of scared at the idea of doing it since I'd had so little experience.

Ten years later, I'm back living in Oregon and I find having someone pump my gas to be annoying and a pain sometimes. Unfortunately, it's one of those things you can't avoid. Oregon, I love you, but please, let me pump my own gas.

don't judge me

I just went through and re-formatted all my gifs to under 500kb so I can use them all on tumblr.

This is my life.

harry potter and the deathly hallows, part two (no spoilers here)

So I went to the midnight showing last night.

I don't know how to feel. I almost feel as if I haven't absorbed a single thing from the movie. Like, I know I saw it. I watched it, going from "OMG SO EXCITE" to, "ugh, they changed crap again." But it doesn't feel as if. I mean, I don't even know. I feel so lost.

Harry Potter is over.

It's so... sad. It's been the past twelve years of my life. I've grown up with Daniel, Rupert, and Emma, and I just. I can't believe it. I haven't absorbed it. Well.

Here's a video that says it better than I can.

The downfalls of employment

I've often wondered what it's like to enjoy your work. I guess I'll be waiting a while to find out.

Flashback about eight years to high school and I'm in exactly the same place. Sometimes it feels like I've come so far only to end up exactly where I started.

I'm not going to talk about my job per say, but I'd like to talk about the things I've learned over the years doing this type of work - I work in a dog boarding kennel currently (just got the job last week), and I worked in a kennel in high school as well. First off, let's get rid of those misinterpretations that working in a kennel is super fun and you just play with dogs all day. It's not and you don't.

Alas! Earwax.

The last post was about Harry Potter and being unemployed. This one is about writing and being unemployed. Two things that you'd think would go hand in hand, but alas do not.

This month is something new: Camp NaNoWriMo.

You may remember last November when I attempted to write a 50k word novel. Well, what happened was I got to 50k words and then stopped. Just plain stopped writing despite the fact that the plot was only a third of the way in. I don't know why I stopped exactly. I reached the dreaded "middle section" in which things have to actually get done. Plots have to advance, you can no longer describe characters in long-winded details, there have to be hopes and dreams and regrets. My characters seem to have those, but they're having problems actually making them into something.

So what is Camp NaNo? It's a spin-off of the original in November, this time set in the balmy summer months of July and August (if you should so choose) in which you attempt another 50k word noveling experience. I had the brilliant thought that I should use whatever motivation this would give me to actually finish last year's novel (which hasn't been looked at since December. I am ashamed).

Well, it's day three of July and for the first time in seven months, I actually typed something into that document. It's difficult getting back into the story and the characters after so long, not to mention I've been working on a screenplay for the last two weeks, and getting out of screenwriter mode is extremely difficult.

I suppose what I'm getting at here is that I'm procrastinating writing... by writing this blog. Seriously. Worst writer ever.

In other news, yesterday I dreamt about French cheeses. I am going crazy.

some people must think i'm really weird.

Since I've been home, I've basically been a lazy ass. It's really unavoidable, being unemployed and all. Let's remedy that at some point, kay?

In the meantime of the fruitless search for work, I fill my days with internets, writing, and I'm just getting around to starting to scrapbook last year. I ordered 800 prints of photos and am just waiting on the scrapbook pages to be delivered so I can put on The O.C. and have a marathon OC and scrapbooking week (last year it was Gilmore Girls and China photos).

In that spirit, yesterday I went and did this:

I'm sure you can tell what part of it is - my ticket when I saw Harry Potter last year, but it's sitting on top of a nice little square of the red carpet which I took from the Premiere of HPDH part one last November (FAMOUS PEOPLE WALKED ON THIS. lol). A forever momento of my geekdom of which I have absolutely no regrets.

[insert gif with chicken spinning on disco dance floor with text "I regret nothing."] or that would be there if I had that gif.

In less than a month, Harry Potter will be over. Well, not quite. We still have Pottermore to look forward to, and if it's anywhere near as awesome as I'm picturing in my head, it will be AWESOME. Pottermore, I will see you in October.

filtered particles

I have a thing for "squares of sunlight" in stories. The squares of sunlight that fall in through windows onto beige carpets where cats crawl into them and bask for hours as if there's nothing they'd rather be doing than lying there. I always write them in, the squares, not necessarily the cats, and I stopped to wonder why today.

When I was growing up, I lived on the Oregon coast, which anyone can tell you, does not get a lot of sun. It's known for being rainy and dark, cloudy and windy and cold. Our house faced north-south so on those rare occasions when it was sunny, it always started in my parent's bedroom on the east side of the house. As a child, I was convinced that Sunday was the day of sun because I can't remember a single rainy Sunday. I'm sure there were, there had to be given the location, but I can't recall a single one.

On those days, especially in the summer, sometimes my mom would be in her room sewing something (and uselessly trying to encourage me to be crafty in my own sense). Their room had this light yellow curtain on the east-facing window and the sun would always stream in in big, bright patches on the carpet (it was grey not beige, but who's counting. The beige comes from living in Arizona where sun was all too plentiful). All those mornings were lovely and have apparently ingrained themselves in my memory.

So when I write them into stories, I'm writing in a moment of happiness. It might be obvious, what with the sun being metaphorical for happiness, but it's really more than that. We haven't had many sunny days lately and I should add that I've never been a huge fan but I like the rare bursts of happiness it always seemed to bring.

I think I'll go write one into the story I'm working on, as this post was all just a huge procrastination on my part.

You know what I love about Amerrca?

Pink eyeliner.

And that everything is open on Sundays. On a related note, my birthday was yesterday. I just went up to Portland and did a little shopping and had lunch. So now I'm officially 24 and living at home. UGH. Can anyone say pathetique? GIVE ME A JOB. omg.

Munchin' in Munchen (Munich)

Continuing the late-posting of trips: Munich

For our little trip, we decided to go places none of us had been (although Mad had been to Munich before), but we thought, Germany? Awesome! And Munich? Even more awesome. Beer, pretzels, Bavaria. Could it get better?

We flew there since it was the same price as a train and would take about six hours less. Our first night, we saw the glockenspiel which is apparently the 2nd worst tourist attraction in Europe after the Astronomical Clock in Prague. It's the little dancing people around a clock that goes off three times a day - 11AM, 12PM, and 5PM. I don't know why five o'clock.

And where could we go on our first night in Germany but a beer hall?

There was delicious pretzels, sauerkraut (although I'm still not a big fan), potato dumplings (omg, I must learn how to make these), and crackle! We spent most of the three days we were there drinking different beers, eating pretzels, and wandering around downtown Munich. We also took a little jaunt out to the Olympic Park and saw the swimming pool which was pretty cool.

Munich is also well-known as the place that started it all - Hitler's ascent to power. He started in a beer hall which no longer exists, and ran his headquarters from Munich for a long time. All over Munich, there are subtle little reminders of the Nazis, erased but not totally erased. Like the little golden path down one side street that marks a form of Nazi resistance by the citizens.

A little outside the city lies Dachau, Germany's first and most important concentration camp. Walking in is surreal as it's surrounded by trees and twittering birds and you think to yourself, "this doesn't seem so bad," but then the guide points out that none of this was here back in the 30s and it was all desolate landscape. 

work sets you free

I suppose if you really want ambiance, go to Dachau on a rainy, dreary day. It was obnoxiously sunny and hot when we went. We drank away the sadness that night at Englisher Garten, a very large beer garden in a huge park.

Munich is also the birthplace of the Lesbian Jacket, which I don't feel the need to explain as it's sort of an inside joke and doesn't really make sense at all unless you were there. 

Munich was super cool and people drink at 9:30 in the morning. They're even worse than in France ;]

dancing the Viennese waltz

I've been so bad at updating since I got back to the states but I'm finally going to post about one of my trips: Vienna!

Vienna was in the middle of the whole trip so we'll skip the beginning and end for now and just pretend we dropped right into Vienna.

I'm not sure what I was expecting from Vienna, and there were several times where we thought that perhaps we should have done a touch more research before fumbling our way down there, but we were there and there was no excuse to do stuff.

During my whole two week sejour, the weather was beautifully sunny and at times, far too hot. This made Vienna an interesting place to be. I'd say there are about a hundred gardens in Vienna, and we spent a lot of time lazing around in them. There are also thousands of museums, but seeing as I'm not a big museum fan, it wasn't a big draw for me.

The city of Vienna is an interesting place. The city is rather large and spread out when you get down to it, but the center part is compact and mostly old palaces now converted in museums. The Hapsburgs were apparently a pretty big deal. It seems most of my history classes failed to mention them, though. Although, Marie-Antoinette was from Vienna (French connection! They're everywhere).

Vienna is also home to Austria's favorite composer(s): Strauss and Mozart, although Mozart is really from Salzburg, a story for another day. This basically means that there are statues of them around every corner. Strauss even has two while the original is under construction.

Vienna is also famous for coffee so we had to have a sit down in several cafes to try some. It also happened to be erdbeer season (aka strawberries) so I had this mountain of deliciousness:

Normally, I hate admitting that I'm a tourist, although I've gotten over this slightly in recent years (it's impossible to blend in in China, so you just have to give up), but I still like to draw the line somewhere. That line is usually those bus tours that you seem to find in every overly-touristy city. However, since I was not alone and we really had no idea what was in Vienna, I got talked into going. It was quite fun!

Notice our little foto-bomber driver in the background.

We saw all the major sights including a giant church in the middle of town, the Danube river which is blue but not as blue as the song leads you to believe, and lots of horse-drawn tourist carriages.

Highlights of Vienna:

1. The hot dog with cheese baked into the middle. Yummm.

2. European coca cola. So much better than others. Maybe because it comes in a glass bottle.

3. The crazy guy with a trumpet

4. Waiting five minutes for a segway tour to actually move so we could watch

5. Trying schnitzel finally and deciding it's totally not worth it

In conclusion! Vienna is cool but I think I prefer Munich. Perhaps I'll blog that next.

crazy trumpet guy.

je prends les moules frites, s'il vous plait

My last day in France. It's bittersweet. I want to go home but at the same time, I don't want to leave France. I don't feel like I'm quite ready.

For my last meal in France, I decided to have something that truly belongs to le nord. I had moules frites!

Moules frites are traditionally northern French - mussels and fries. Yum yum deliciousness! I'll be sad to leave this place. I know most people think the nord is just gloomy and wet and boring but I found it to be fun and yeah, a little wet, but the people are nice and the food is good, and I get to practice my French on a daily basis as opposed to someone living in Paris.

Tomorrow it's two more trains and one more plane, and then I'll be in Iceland for a day or two. I will hopefully be actually adding blogs of my past few trips now that I've got the pictures on my computer, so look for those in the coming weeks.

Otherwise, it's finally back home to Oregon to attempt to find me a real job and start a real life. Oh God. Real world, are you ready? I think I should be the one answering that question.

"It's wrong no matter why you kill, no matter whom you kill and no matter who does the killing."

I've mentioned it before, but my senior year of college, I took a gen-ed class called "Eastern European Film in a Social Context" in which we watched many films, all dating from 1918 (the Russian revolution) to the mid-nineties (Balkan wars). Lately, as I've been traveling around Eastern Europe, it's made me think of a lot of these movies and today I went on a hunt to find all the titles. I want to share them with you in the hopes that maybe you'll watch a few of them.

Before the Rain – Baltic, Macedonia

No Man's Land – Baltic, Serbia/Bosnia

Ivan's Childhood - Russian

Kolya - Czechoslovakia

Brother - Russian

Burnt By The Sun - Russian

Closely Watched Trains – Czechoslovakia

Daisies – Czechoslovakia

Knife in the Water – Poland

The Mother – Russia

Potemkin – Russian

Tito and Me – Yugoslavia

Children of Glory – Hungarian

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days – Romania

A Short Film About Killing – Poland

Man of Marble – Poland

Alice - Czechoslovakia

They're all in their native languages with English subtitles if you can find them (my University library has a lot of them so they're out there - even a few are online as I had to watch them there for class).

Which ones do I recommend? You should be aware that several of these could be very triggering in the violence/gore category, and of course, it does help the know the social context before watching. Still, there's no excuse not to watch these. 

Those I don't recommend for the squeamish (but are really excellent films due to this) are "4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days" as it pertains to abortion and there's a rather gruesome shot near the end of a fetus. Also, "A Short Film About Killing" is, as the title indicates, a short film about killing and is rumored to have the longest death scene of any film ever made (7 minutes and you see it all), but it's a great social commentary on death. Note: at one point, the entire class of 200 people gasped in sync it was that ... shocking, I guess I could say.

Aside from those two, I'd recommend "Closely Watched Trains," "Tito and Me," "Brother," and "No Man's Land." Those were some of my favorites. 

As I wandered around Budapest today, I thought to myself (much as I had when I went to Prague), that when I was born, no one even dreamed of going to Hungary. Nobody could. The Soviet Block was still intact and Eastern Europe was closed. Today, I went to the House of Terror, former home to the secret police of Hungary and location of brutal actions (it's now a museum dedicated to this fact including the prisons in the basement where people were kept and tortured, and one very poignant room in which there stands a singular pillar with a noose at the top). Just twenty years ago, Budapest was under this constant threat and in certain places, you can still see the bullet holes from the 1956 Revolt that was quickly quelled by Soviet troops and thousands died. (watch "Children of Glory" if you'd like to know more).

Sometimes I still can't believe how recent our history is and how countries are still waging wars over insignificant differences (watch "No Man's Land" for that one).

I guess I'll just leave this list here and hope someone watches one of those movies. But don't watch "Potemkin" unless you enjoy silent movies. 

closely watched trains

I was nine years old the first time I rode on a train. Granted, it was a mystery, dinner-theater train in which I had way too many Shirley Temples and me and my best friend at the time were bouncing off the walls, but it was my first train.

My first actual train would be nine years later in France. It was a TGV from Paris to Avignon and I remember almost nothing of the ride. Since then, I've taken many trains, mostly in France and China, and I've got to say I much prefer them to busses.

Of course, there have been some not-so-good trains.

Last year, my friend and I decided we absolutely must have Starbucks and pizza, which were only accessible after a four hour train ride to the biggest town in the province. We figured (since we'd been living in China for six months by then) that we were perfectly capable of just popping down to the train station on a Friday night and getting a ticket. You should note that not a single shop-keeper/train station worker/cashier in the entire town spoke a word of English beyond 'hello', pronounced 'hallow!" So we packed up a bag and hopped on the bus and rode downtown.

We got our tickets with our meager Chinese: "women yao chu Wuhan jintian." (we want to go to Wuhan today) From what the woman said (of which we understood none of the words), we got that there were no seats left and we'd be standing. Doesn't sound too bad, right? Only four hours. Not so bad, eh?

Wrong.

It was four hours of stinky, sweaty, cigarette smoke-drenched people stuffed like sardines in a can with the added bonus of the fruit cart ladies pushing their way through the inches of space left to breathe shouting, "Shui guo! pingwa! putao! xiang jiao!" Worst four hours of my life. But the Starbucks at the end was almost enough to make up for it. I have no pictures of this occasion but I honestly don't ever want to relive it.

Today, today was not that bad. The train ride was longer but not the longest I've ever had (which was 20 hours from Shanghai to Xiangfan last year. Don't recommend it. Take the high speed train if you can get it!). The stress of this ride came as we crossed the border from Slovenia to Hungary. Apparently in Eastern Europe, it's common for the train workers to change at each border which consequently means you'll have your ticket checked and stamped multiple times.

The train stopped several times for over twenty minutes at certain stops, and since they stopped announcing the stops after I left Slovenia, this didn't help. Now, when I bought my ticket from Ljubjiana yesterday, I asked the woman, "this is a direct train?" and she said yes. Well, at the second twenty minute stop, instead of continuing forward, we went backwards.

I don't know about you, but going backwards instead of forwards is slightly disconcerting and I began to worry that maybe I was supposed to have changed trains somewhere despite what the woman had said. It's happened to me before - when I went to Bruges on what was supposed to be a direct train, we had to change at some station in Belgium.

Time went by, though, and the train worker didn't come by so I couldn't ask. And just when I'd decided I was just going to let the train take me wherever it wanted, we started going back in another direction. At this point, I gave up. I have this habit of stressing over things I can't control and I just stopped. This train would take me wherever the hell it wanted and I would deal with it when I got there.

Luckily for me, all those switch-backs worked out the way they were supposed to and I arrived in Budapest on time and only mildly worse for the wear. Not the worst train ride I've ever been on but not the best either.

if you say it loud enough, you'll always sound precocious

I have an issue. I like to travel. I like seeing new places and learning new things. I like meeting new people I'll never see again and for one brief period of time sharing something with them. The time period is meant to be brief, though. 

I'm writing this entry not from a cafe or a cool little river-side bench or any of those picturesque locations that just evoke Europe in your mind and make you wish you were there, but I'm writing this entry from inside a hostel as two Spanish-speaking girls pack up their bags and probably prepare to leave tomorrow. I'm sitting on my little bed with its red sheets and dark blue lockers next to it, listening to the song I want playing when I die (or at the end of a particularly tragic movie), and wishing I was back in France.

i want something that i want

I really need to do the post about Dunkerque but honestly, all it would say is, "We went to the beach. It was ridiculously windy, and we spent six hours in a beach-side cafe drinking cocktails."

Yesterday was my last day at work and for the most part, I let kids ask questions. I mean, we did do some work but hey, who cares about work? Besides, questions are way more fun and let me practice my French.

Kid: How are you getting home?
Other Kid: a plane, duh!

Kid: Does America have the same money as us?

Kid: How long does it take to get from Southern California to Washington D.C?
That one I could actually answer seeing as I've driven it at least 6 times in my life. It takes 5 days if you stop at night, 3 days if you never stop.

Kid: How did you learn French?
Me: In school.
Kid: Oh! Like we learn English!

Kid: Where did you live this year?
Other kid: In America?
Teacher: No, of course not. That would be tiring to fly back every day.
Me: And expensive...

Kid: Do you have The Simpsons in America?
Me: ... Yeah, they're American.

Ah. And so my year in France comes to an end, too early for what I would have liked. Today I get to pack my suitcase and prepare for Monday when I leave for Germany. Germany! I'm so excited to finally get there. We're going to Munich so a trip to Dachau concentration camp will be had. I'm excited for that too. WWII is my favorite war to study (I'm a bit of a history nerd in case you hadn't gathered that over the course of this year). After Munich, we're heading to Salzburg (home to the Sound of Music tour and movie location and everything), then Vienna with hopefully sidetrips to Bratislava (in Slovakia) and Budapest (in Hungary). I'm going with two friends and this is where we'll part ways. They go back to France and I'm taking a little trip down to the former Yugoslavia. I'm definitely hitting up Croatia and Slovenia. Hopefully I'll be able to get to the Dalmatian coast in Croatia.

So there we have it. In less than a month I'll be back at home. In fact, I get in late on a Saturday, and you know what? The next day, Sunday, I'll be able to go to the store! And eat at restaurants! And shop! And do everything. All on a Sunday. AHHH. It will be glorious.

this must be how it feels

I don't want to go home.

But I do want to go home. I'm conflicted.

This past week has been pretty much amazing. The weather has been perfect - blue skies, sun, warmth - I've finally reached that point where I can talk to anyone I want and not feel like an idiot. I finally got the CAF figured out (never mind that the social security still hasn't done a thing in 7 months). I'm not ready to go.

By this time last year, I was begging to leave China. I was counting down the days (all 100-something of them). I wanted to get the hell out of there, you have no idea. Of course, I also had France to look forward to at this point.

This year, I don't want to leave France, not when I'm so close. I finally feel really comfortable here, something I never really felt in China. I can go into a restaurant and order anything I want and answer the server's questions. I can apologize when we break two glasses in a span of five minutes (that's another story, one which just drives home how much fun France can be). I can go to the post office and ship packages home and explain things to the clerk. I can finally me débrouiller as well as I've always wanted. Unfortunately, se débrouiller doesn't translate very well into English, meaning, "manage myself." But I can and I do.

Why is it just when you get the hang of things, it's time to go? I'm really wishing I'd renewed for next year. Tant pis, though. There are other ways to get to France and if I still feel this way later on, I'll make it happen. For now, à bientôt, France.

tu vas où?

Yesterday, I told a few classes that next week would be my last week. One class in particular had a lot of questions.

"Where are you going?"
"Are you going to another school?"
"Are you going back to London?"
"You live in America?"
"Isn't that far away?"

It's like they've forgotten everything I told them about where I'm from, and apparently all their geography lessons too.

il faisait beau aujourd'hui

Things the train window told me today: Je suis sale, Douai, 59, and je t'aime. If there'd been a "nettoie-moi" it would have been perfect.

Otherwise, it was a pretty good day anyway. The weather has been absolutely amazing the past couple days, sunny, no clouds, 75 degrees. Kevin keeps telling me it's not normal for this time of year but it seems normal to me. Then again, I'm coming from Arizona where it's sunny 340 days of the year.

I had another complete and un-simplified conversation with a French person - actually two: one with Kevin and one with Sebastien. You'd think after all this time that I'd do that all the time, but I really don't, and they're lovely days when I get to.

Maybe it was such a good day because I know the end is imminent which also makes me a little sad because I've finally gotten everything down and feel comfortable enough to talk to people on my own, and the kids like me, and I know what I'm teaching. And now it's all about to be over.

I've only got two more days of teaching left. Where did all the time go?! Beuf. I'm not ready for it to be over yet.

Side note: I wrote 26 pages for script frenzy yesterday so I'm up to 51 pages total. I'll try to write another 3-10 tonight if I can figure out what's going on in the episode... Then I need to finalize plans for the next month, like hostels and flights and stuff. Ugh. Not looking forward to packing or closing my bank account. What a chore that's going to be.

even at our swiftest speed, we could not break from the concrete

You may remember November (gosh, that seems so long ago now) when I was writing a novel. Well, needless to say, I haven't finished it yet. In fact, I haven't worked on it since December. At around 60k words, it is only 1/3 of the way done. Boo. It's going to take forever. But that was November. This is April! And April means Script Frenzy!

What is Script Frenzy (screnzy, for short), you ask? Well, it's basically NaNoWriMo in script form. You write a 100 page script in 30 days. It doesn't sound too hard, right? This is my fourth year which means that I have three other screenplays gathering dust on my hard drive, only one of which I think is actually worth anything. This year, though, I've decided to try something different: a TV show.

I've got the whole thing basically outlined for four seasons worth of shows. Of course, that's not helpful at all when I haven't even written the pilot episode. The pilot is what I'm currently working on for screnzy, the pilot and episode two since one episode is only around 40-50 pages.

The problem this year is that I only have two weeks as opposed to the normal 4 weeks. Since the France contract is ending on the 16th, I will be moving out of my apartment here and traveling for the last 3 weeks of my stay in Europe. Therefore, my time is limited. I may not win this year *gasp* - that would be a first. It's funny. I can write a 50k word novel in five days but I can't write a 100 page script in 2 weeks? Well, I can. I've done it before, but lately it's been harder. For some reason, writing scripts is like pulling teeth for me. It's just so much harder with all the dialogue and trying to make it snappy and interesting while still remembering that it has to convey a plot and my characters too.

In other news, I went to Amiens the other day and it's quite a pretty town, much to my surprise. I recommend eating at the potato restaurant by the cannal. Delicious.

Finding Hogwarts

This past weekend, I set off to find Hogwarts. In case you haven’t been paying attention, I am one of the biggest Harry Potter dorks ever. Just for future reference.

This past weekend, I hopped on a plane to Edinburgh, Scotland, the very place where Harry was born, nurtured, and where I’ve grown up with him all these years. I finally got to see the place I’ve only seen in my imagination for the past twelve years.

Oh. My imagination did not do it justice.

lunch inside a postcard

Today, I had lunch inside a postcard. No, not literally, although I honestly don't think that'd be a bad idea.

For the first time since probably September, the weather was warm. Not just warm, but also sunny, breezy, and generally perfect. Il faisait beau aujourd'hui.

I had lunch at one of the many cafes in the place des heros which faces the Arras belfry. Despite the warnings of radioactive clouds, there were none in the sky which was a picture-perfect blue. I also flanne'd (wandered) along the many clothes stores. Everyone seemed to be out today, especially at the park where I witnessed a group of boys doing some very strange things involving cigarette smoke, each others' mouths, and jerking each other off the ground. I didn't ask.

A lovely day in the Nord pas de Calais.

sometimes I clean

Sometimes I clean. Sometimes I decide I need to clean everything in my room/apartment/house/wherever I happen to be at the time (including but not limited to offices at work and refrigerators, especially the big walk-in ones). I usually only do this on days where I am so utterly bored that it's the only thing left to do. Oh, sure, I could be writing or editing one of the many crappy first-drafts I have in My Documents, or perhaps I could even be doing something productive like planning my future, but I'm lazy and apathetic, so cleaning is what I do.

The problem with cleaning is that once you do it... you can't do it again until things get dirty.

la vie en rose

I spend too much time on the Assistants Forum and I'll be glad to delete it off my favorites list once France is done. Why? Because half the people on there only complain. "I hate my town. My teachers are mean to me. The weather sucks." Blah blah blah.

Since I booked my plane ticket home the other day, I've been wondering if I'm going home too soon. I know logically it makes sense to go home when I am because I probably can't fiscally afford to stay in Europe much longer, but that doesn't mean I'm not still questioning my decision.

I came to France with this wild idea that I would somehow make much more out of it than I did with China. I told myself I would talk to people, join a group of something, I don't know, take a cooking class. Granted, I've talked to people. My French has improved - I think after the last break, it somehow got a boost. Maybe it was just the time away I needed.

I'm still left wondering, though, if I did everything I could to make my time here memorable and useful. I suppose we always have regrets when things end but the level of the regret varies person to person and thing to thing. When I go back, I still don't know what I'm doing. Someone wrote to me the other day, "What is on your agenda for next year?  Something exciting, I hope." The real answer to that question is that I have no idea, and whatever it is, it probably won't be exciting. 


Those people who complain on the forums, I wonder if they've done everything they can for themselves. I'm not a real go-getter myself, so everything I'm lacking is my own fault. But I wonder how hard they tried or if they're just content to think the past six months have been a waste of their time. Even if you hated it, at least it taught you something. That's how I prefer to look at it, although I've far from hated my time here. A part of me wishes it would go on longer and another part is ready for it to be over. I honestly don't know which side is winning at the moment.

not with a fizzle, but with a bang

My life at work:

Me: *sits at computer*
Random person: Excusez-moi, est-ce que vous savez...
Me: Non.

The end is nigh! As you may have guessed from my outburst the other day, the CAF has finally come through and I have some money in the bank. My dad advised me to buy my plane ticket home ASAP as the gas prices are apparently about to shoot through the roof. So.

May 7th. That's the day I'll be back in the US. It seems so soon when you look at it. Less than two months away already. Oh boy. Where did the time go?

Before I go home, I would like to travel some, of course. I'll have about three weeks to travel before heading home. The only definite stop at the moment is Iceland. I'm flying out of Reykjavik (well, Paris to Reykjavik then home) but because of the flight times, if I flew straight from Paris, I'd only have one hour to go through security and all that junk in Iceland. So instead, I'm flying to Iceland a few days early, have a little time to see it, and then I'll be going home. 

I really don't know where I want to go. There are still so many places I haven't been. Too many options!

I am, however, going to Edinburgh in a few weeks! I decided to bite the bullet and spend the money. If I don't do it now, when will I? So I'm off in search of Hogwarts, and I have a friend who lives in Scotland that I might see if schedules permit. So, the end is coming, but I will leave with a bang. Only two months. Let's see how much trouble I can get into within that time.

gravity don't mean too much to me

My senior year of college, I had a dilemma. I was required, for my scholarship, to be a full-time student with twelve credit hours. The problem was that I only had one required class left to take and it was worth a whole one credit. This meant I had four classes to fill up, four classes I didn't need but would still have to pass in order to graduate. My sophomore year, I had taken Greek Mythology as a random class, so I thought I'd take something else along that line and ended up with History of Rome. I also took a gen-ed class called Eastern European Film in which we watched many movies and talked about communism and its affects on art.

This past week and a half, I relived my last semester of college.

let's ruin everything

Yesterday I found myself wondering if I really wanted to lug myself all the way down to Toulouse for a concert by a band I've seen twice already and met the guitarist too, but after hitting myself in the head for being an idiot (there was some confusion, all on my part, about the ticket), I am going. I don't know why I do this to myself.

Who am I going to see? My Chemical Romance. Some of you may scoff and roll your eyes, but you have clearly never heard Gerard Way talking. His voice, oh my God. If I could marry it, I would.

falling right into the denouement

In one week, I'll be on February break. In a month and a half, I'll be on April break. In two months, I'll be done.

I feel like there is always a point you reach when you live abroad where you just get annoyed. Or maybe it's just me. Or maybe it was just today.

Today, there was yet another strike which meant four of my six teachers wouldn't be at school, so there was really no point in me being there. Instead, I went with Carole to the CPAM to inquire after my social security number. Guess what we found out? They've done absolutely nothing since the first time I was there. Yep, glorious French bureaucracy who can do nothing in a timely manner.

And then there's the matter of the CAF who keeps asking for more paperwork that I don't have, and Carole told me today that her son applied in October and didn't get reimbursed until July last year. And he's a French citizen. Beuf.

At times I find myself considering staying abroad for another few months or years or wondering if I could do it forever, and I know the answer. I know the answer is no. But I still find myself considering it - looking up ways to stay, places I could go/work. But then you think about what's really waiting for you at home and the honest answer is not much. If I had anything worthwhile there, I might not have left.

It's like being in a big hurry to go nowhere. I would like to go home, but I know I'd be bored within two weeks. All my friends live so spread out and none are in the town I would be living in. Why should I go home? What's there? Maybe I should just pick up and move as soon as I get back. Where? No one knows. I could fulfill my childhood dream of living in Vermont. Why Vermont, you ask? I couldn't tell you. I just wanted to.

On a brighter note, on Tuesday, this adorable little boy in CE1 asked if he could write a story about me. I wanted to hug the little writer. He's so cute. I just wish I knew his name...

Paris, the city of... pigeons

So I didn't go to Germany, and no, I don't want to talk about it. I've waxed poetic enough (read: rationalized myself) enough to my personal journal. If I want to go to Germany for real, I will get there someday.

I went to Paris (again) this weekend. Turns out that as a resident of France, I can now get into a lot of monuments and museums for free. I did not know this, but it is a very handy thing. I went with two other assistants from the Lille academie, and we climbed to the top of Notre Dame, something I've never done in five trips to Paris.

It's over 400 steps in a tight, twisting, claustrophobic staircase with just two real places for a short respite. From one watch tower to another on the Great Wall, it's over 2,000 stairs that vary in size from small to a jump and stopping every five-ten stairs is expected. This felt similar except there was no place to rest.

The view was lovely, though, despite the clouds.

We also went inside the Pantheon, which I'd never done, and went down to check out some of the graves of famous French people. I still don't know who Leon Gambetta is exactly, despite having read his Wikipedia page and the little panel in French that tried to (badly) explain it. But all the high schools and streets are named after him, so he must have been important. 

As we walked to the Pantheon, we passed the Eglise de Sorbonne, and the little cafe where, almost exactly two years ago, I met Abdel. He was some guy who randomly started talking to me on the streets of Paris, asking if I knew if Sorbonne had canceled classes due to strikes. I had no idea, being that 1) I'm not French, and 2) I didn't go to Sorbonne. But we ended up prendre une verre (getting a drink) for about two hours at this little cafe near the Eglise. 

I remember that conversation vividly, mostly because afterwards, he gave me his number and told me to call him. I did not call him. Why? Well, because (let's do a list again) 1) at that point, I was terrified of speaking French on the phone, 2) I was in a foreign country alone and calling up a random, older guy seemed like a bad idea, and 3) I had very little interest in doing anything more than having a drink at a cafe with him. As I'd told him I was a writer (I use the term loosely), he told me that I was not adventurous enough to be a real writer.

That comment has stuck with me over the past two years and sometimes I wonder if he's right. If you ask any of my friends, they would balk at the idea that I'm not adventurous enough. I mean, I moved to China just because I could, and I spent a year having absolutely no idea what I was doing, and now I'm in France, and to them it's just incredible. To me, though, it's not. It's just what I did. I don't feel like I was being adventurous. At times, I felt like I was being stupid and crazy. Why? Because I still don't go out with people I randomly meet on the street (not that I meet that many), and I still say no to things I should say yes to, and I still chicken out when it comes to stupid things like calling people. It's just part of my overly-cautious personality that I can't get rid of.

My example for Abdel was Emily Dickenson, an extremely famous and talented writer who never left her house. But I think she had a fantastic imagination whereas mine is limited, which is probably why I do need to be more adventurous. But my cautious streak is still there and it's never going away. And I just have to live with that.

The Year of the Rabbit

As of tomorrow (February 3rd), the Year of the Rabbit begins. This is especially significant for me, given that I am a Rabbit. Aside from the obvious things to do this year (wear your red underwear everyday for good luck if you're a Rabbit), it's also the start of a new cycle in my life, which means I have to come to terms with certain parts of my past.

The past twelve years did not go as I expected them to. I expected to have the same friends all the way through high school, to graduate, go to Oregon State University, and become a veterinarian. That was my plan. Obviously, plans change. But part of starting the new cycle is recognizing failures/disappointments and triumphs and learning from them and creating a new plan.

One of my disappointments, I've already come to terms with and accepted as being better than I thought it would be. That would be going to the University of Arizona for college. It wasn't my first choice. In fact, it was near the bottom of the list, but lots of factors came into play, and in the end, of the three really viable choices, it was the one I chose. Four years later, however, I had plenty of good memories from UA, friends I'll have for life, and a stepping stone for the rest of my life. It's time to let go of the "what if I had gone to so-and-so college instead?" Because I didn't go, and I got a good education anyway.

Another of my disappointments, I'm not sure I've worked it all out yet, and it seems to have affected everything since then, which makes it harder. I lost a friend once, or perhaps not lost... the actual events are blurred in my memory and I'm no longer sure whose fault it really was. I'm sure now that it was both of ours. We both made mistakes and the result was a hurt, depressed teenager who was already anti-social to begin with and who then became even more so. It was hard at the time because I didn't have many friends anyway and I felt she was my best one I did have, so losing her was like having to start over except that instead of losing her, I sort of gained an enemy. It dissipated over time and I only saw her once after high school. But that incident seemed to just fuel a desire to remain anti-social and an excuse for why I had issues with making friends. It's not true, though. I've always been shy and I had troubles making friends before, which was one of the reasons I was so against moving in the first place.

As for that disappointment, I just have to accept that I can't change what happened. We were both immature at the time (age 15, horrible age), and couldn't see past ourselves to fix it. Have I gotten closure? Perhaps not, but maybe I don't need it. I need to stop using it as an excuse. I'm responsible for my actions at this point.

How about a triumph? Something good that's happened in the past twelve years? It's like that interview question where they ask what you think is your biggest accomplishment. Sometimes I say going to college, but that's not true. In fact, it's a blatant lie. I always knew I'd go to college. I always knew I'd get in. I always knew I'd probably have my pick. It wasn't necessarily an accomplishment so much as an expected step to take.

I guess I'd say publishing my novel was a triumph. Six years ago, if you'd have said I would someday write an actual novel and put it out there for people to read and buy, I would have thought you were joking. Six years ago, the only things I wrote were for class, and while I thought (read: thought - this was proven wrong several times) that I was a good writer, I really didn't know anything. I'm not saying I'm amazing right now, but I have my moments. I've still got a lot to learn, though, although now I think what I need to learn isn't something an editor can tell me. It's only something I can learn by living my life.

The point of a new year and a new cycle is to move forward and leave the past where it belongs: behind you.

I may not know where I'm going but I know what I'm leaving behind, and I'm happy to leave it there.

chungyeong university

Have I ever told you about the time I was lost in South Korea? No? Well, pull up a chair and grab some popcorn whilst I spin you a tale.

It was about this time one year ago - Spring Festival break had begun in China and I hopped on a plane - no, train - no, a train and then a plane... and then another plane and flew from middle-of-nowhere China to Soeul, South Korea.

i want this second chance

Hey, woah, you! Yeah, you. Over there, the one cautiously avoiding my eyes...

You can now buy my book on Kindle!

Yes, that's right. The book that has been out for two years is now on Kindle, which I hope means something more than I just wasted a weekend. I really do need to get around to editing the rest of my crappy novels. There could be at least one gem hidden amongst the rubble, but it needs a ton of polishing to get it anywhere near good enough to put out for people to actually read.

However, this one is currently decent enough that I don't cringe at the thought of people reading it, so hey, got a kindle? go buy it! Don't have one? You can still buy it on amazon.com. seriously.

Oh, Also, New official authoring website: http://elyceg.wordpress.com

yep :D

such great heights

I really do have a great view out my window in France. Examples:

Let's compare to last year's view, eh?

Yes, those are peanuts. My apartment was the bottom window, further to the left

The first snow of the season in China, looking out onto the neighbors' "garden".

There are so many things to appreciate about France, not least of which is the view.

Eet's clow-dee and cowld.

Biggest pet peeve for French people-learning-english: Putting Hs where they don't belong and taking them away when they're supposed to be there. No wonder the kids can't tell the difference between "ear" and "hair."

I was made fun of, or laughed at anyway, for reading Harry Potter by someone at work. I resent that. Harry Potter is a great book, and I was at least reading it in French, so that should somehow count in my favor?

Les soldes ont commencé. I bought a sweater at 50% off and I have plans to search for a bag once the prices dip even lower. I'm thinking when I go to Lille in a few weeks. I don't remember if I wrote this already, but I'm going to Cologne, Germany in a few weeks, just for the weekend. I have yet to convince anyone to come with me, but c'est pas grave - that's how my life goes. Tant pis.

On a parting note, today, a French person asked my why I bothered learning French. And people say the French are rude and highstrung. Obviously they've never been here.

hobbies are hobbies too

I had a dream last night that I was yelling at my bad class. They weren't listening, as per usual, and I woke myself up in the middle of yelling, "QUIET!" I swear I half said the word before I was awake and thinking, "Did I almost say that out loud?" Considering how little I dream, I'm surprised I had this at all.

You know that feeling you get after you finish something that has taken a long time? Like reading a long book series or writing a long story or finishing a television series? Like something is missing and you don't quite know what to do with yourself? I don't like that feeling. It's sort of depressing in a way. Try watching all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row and you'll understand the feeling. The feeling that things are over and there won't be anymore.

I spent the last week watching Avatar: The Last Airbender, which I will recommend as an amazing show even though it's animated and intended for age 8-10. Granted, it's only three seasons long and it ended about 3 years ago. I did watch a few episodes 5 years ago when I was in college and a friend liked it, but for some reason I just didn't get into it. Probably because I saw a few episodes in the middle. Starting from the beginning is a much better idea.

Basically, I'm in love with Zuko and if he was real, I'd marry him. Of course, the same goes for Sokka, and for Dmitre from Anastasia. The point is, after I finished the series (yesterday - I watched 8 episodes in a row, couldn't stop myself), I was left with that empty feeling again.

My hobbies are not vast or really varied. And a lot of them are combined. I like to knit, but I do it while watching TV shows. I like to cook but I need the right kitchen setup to really feel comfortable doing it. And oven would be helpful too. My interest in animals is pretty much caput at the moment considering I can't have a pet here. I've forgotten half the things I used to know from 4-H. Writing is an interest, but it's something that takes an idea and if you don't feel like writing, you don't feel like writing. I do need to finish my NaNoWriMo, but.... my motivation went *poof* when November ended.

Lately, I've also been in that strange mood where you just want to delete all social network profiles and vanish from the internet, which is, of course, impossible in this day and age. In the past two years, I've deleted 2 livejournals, 2 twitters, insanejournal, dreamwidth, myspace, bebo (did not remember i even had this), buzznet, 1 blog, and I really should delete my tumblr too. I can't delete my facebook and I like my facebook. Living abroad without facebook is really hard as I found out last year when I went 3 months without it in China until I just couldn't take it and got a VPN.

Pointless post is pointless.

And on a parting note, eight year olds are the devil. Next time I'll take down all their names and give them all a punishment.

every mushroom cloud has a silver lining

I know I was just talking about appreciation the other day and how a lot of people in this program don't seem to, but I was just hit with a sudden urge to go home. And not because I don't like it here. It's not that at all. I just miss living in the US.

I'm looking out my window at a beautiful blue sky, and the air is crisp and clean and a little cold, but I'm hit with these memories of summertime in Oregon when everything is green and lush and pretty and warm without being too hot, and I can go to the mall and go shopping (god, I miss shopping - I miss having money to go shopping). I just saw a picture of a friend on facebook and it triggered this weird memory of us going shopping in Portland. It's weird because, of course, I see pictures of her all the time.

For some reason, memories of summer are strongest, probably because that's the only time I'm ever really at home. Since I technically (it's complicated) went to school out-of-state (see, not really. It's just, my parents moved right as I went to college), I never got to go home for weekends or short holidays like Thanksgiving or Labor Day. I only got to be home at Christmas and during the summer. So it's no wonder my memories are strongest of those times.

This is also my second year living abroad and there comes a point where you just want familiarity. You just want to do the things you've always done like go to the mall or walk to the park or just the little things like going to the local grocery store. I know I always said I hated Arizona, and I did, a lot, but even when I go back to Phoenix, I can like it because of the sense of familiarity it has for me. I know the roads. I know what street to take to get me to my old house, to the high school, to the mall. I know what it feels like to drive up Tatum Blvd at sunset in the summertime and how the sun is going to feel once I step out of the air-conditioned interior of my car. I know that, and it's comforting.

When I came back from China, granted, there was a reverse culture shock that took some adjusting, but I also didn't come back to somewhere familiar. The only bit of familiarity I got was a stopover in the Phoenix airport which was like a bit of home even though I haven't lived there in six years.

It's not like I have a lot of time left here anyway. Only four months, which seems too short and too long at the same time. I'm twenty-three. I'm tired of being directionless. I'm tired of being a twenty-something. I don't like this stage in my life all that much, that stage where I feel like I don't know what I'm doing but I also feel like I should know, like other people know. Every time I catch myself thinking about spending another year abroad (like renewing France for next year or moving to Africa), I stop and remind myself of how I feel right now. I don't know if I can take another year of this. Yes, I love traveling, and yes, I love France, but the time has come to settle down or at least try to. It's going to be hard but I want to do it. France was hard but I wanted to do it and I did. This just proves that I can.

I don't know. I've always liked traveling, but I've also always wanted something steady to come back to, which I haven't had in a while. It feels like I've been moving since I was fourteen: Oregon, Phoenix, Virginia, Tucson, Oregon, China, France. I thought by now I'd have figured out what I wanted. It was all so clear when I was thirteen and I was going to be a veterinarian. Life, why so hard? Why can't I just be five years old again? Life was so much simpler then.

I'm sure I'll look back on France with fond memories that will make me want to come back. Even now, I have those memories of China that somehow block out the bad parts of the experience. I'm sure they will come and I'll remember sitting here and staring out my window at the cloudless sky and thinking how pretty it is. I'll remember.

Appreciation

I've never felt so lost. I've never felt so much at home. Please write my folks and throw away my keys.

I've been waiting years for that song lyric to apply to me. I can't say it does yet, and I honestly don't know when it will, but I hope that someday, I'll be able to say it and mean it.

Lately, I've seen a lot of people in the program getting tired (okay, it's mainly the Brits) and I know one person (American) is leaving. He says he's gotten what he wanted out of the program. I suppose if you feel that way. There's a difference between feeling you've done what you came to do and leaving early as opposed to quitting in the middle because it's just too hard.

I never once considered quitting in China, even on those days when I just wanted to punch the next Chinese person I saw, those days where if I heard 'hallow!' yelled at me, I was going to snap, not even on those days. It never occurred to me to just say, "I quit. Send me home." Then again, I had also signed a real contract that said if I quit, I had to pay money to get out of the contract. France somehow has no real contract. I don't feel like there's anything legal keeping us here. If we picked up and left tomorrow, there isn't anything they could do.

But I still don't understand the people who quit.

Have they not gone through what the rest of us did to get here? Do they not want it as much? What were they expecting? To live in a huge city with great public transportation and super friendly French people? It's just not realistic.

I was looking at jobs in the US today because I will have to get one when I get back, but if you think about it, my qualifications for any type of professional job are very slim. I speak French. Woo. That's all. I'm qualified to live in France. On a good day. It's enough to make a girl want to think of Grad School just to have something else to do. I'm not sure I could make it another 2-3 years in school, though.

I guess this entry doesn't have a point really except people who don't want to come here, shouldn't be here. Granted, I don't love teaching and no, I don't want to be a teacher, but that's not why I'm here. I knew that long before I came here. I'm here in some vague hope that France is the culmination of something in my life, as if it was something I was working towards all those years, but essentially it may only be a stepping stone to something else. God only knows what that something else is, although I'd rather like to be let in on it, thanks.

It's 10PM now over here in France and I have to leave for work at 8AM, so I'll leave this here.

To leave you all on a lighter-hearted note, the lol-worthy moment of Tuesdays classes:

New lesson on prepositions (in, on, under, behind, in front of, next to, between). The teacher uses the kids as examples: "Sara is next to John." And Sara moves next to John. Etc. So then the teacher says, "Thomas is inside Nathan. Is it possible?" If you didn't laugh, then you have a cleaner mind than me ;] The teacher said no. My brain said yes.

Goodnight.