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.

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.

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.

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.

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.