Read Stuff in English in Paris

I wrote another article about Paris. This one took a lot more legwork and skype calls across the Atlantic. It's about English language bookstores in Paris. You can find it here. Or click the link below.

http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/09-12/a-guide-to-english-language-bookstores-in-paris.html

Hot Journalism Job!

Love this job description for the A.V. Club D.C. Opens like this:

Are you desperately clinging to a career in journalism while the newspaper industry goes up in flames? Want to work for a fast-paced news organization staffed by gruff copy editors—relics of a bygone era—who constantly bitch about the slow death of print media while simultaneously contributing to it? Tired of trying to make a living as a freelance writer, and finally coming to the realization that an extra part-time job or three is the only way you're going to make rent this month? If so, The A.V. Club is for you!

Getting Back on My Feet

If you asked me how my job hunt was going, I would say not very well. I spend hours on cover letters, delete them, and rewrite them again. I ask everyone and anyone I know or meet if they've heard of any openings. I work my network to try to get ins at jobs I'm applying for. And on and on. Thus far, none of it has done me any good.

I checked out the unemployment rate and was both encouraged and discouraged to see that Illinois has one of the higher percentiles in the nation. Encouraged because it's not just me. Discouraged because I still don't have a job.

So a couple of days ago, I decided to do something. There's nothing I can do about this. I am convinced that I am doing everything in my power to land a job and can't possibly do any more. But since it causes me so much stress, worry and hopelessness, I thought I should throw myself into doing something more positive.

So I started training for a half marathon. At this point, I am not sure I am even going to physically make it to the race. The registration and travel will cost money I don't necessarily have. But that isn't really the point right now. The point is more doing something that makes me feel good about myself. This is about working towards a goal I know without a doubt I can accomplish with dedication and work. And I really need to think less about job hunting for a few minutes a day. Now I can think about how much I really don't want to go running, which is what happens when you have to do it every single day.

And so, I bring to you yet another photo of running shoes. Guess which ones have run a marathon on top of a couple hundred miles and which ones have run three.

Betsy Learns About Bikes

The minute CTA anounced a fare hike, I decided right then and there I would ride my bike through winter. Pay $6 a day to ride the train? No. Pay nothing to get some good excerise? Yes.

Although CTA has now announced they won't increase fares, I'm already commited — to something I am not prepared to do. I really don't know how to take care of my bike. I don't know how to change a flat. I don't even know how to grease my chain. Winter in Chicago means dirty snow and slush, potholes, salt, and whole bunch of other things that can hurt and rust and do other mean things to bikes.

So last night I took advantage of West Town Bike's Women's Night. As long as you're a girl, you're free to come work on your bike under the helpful eye of female mechanics. Dudes tend to dominate the world of bikes, so this was an opportunity for me to learn a thing or two in a low-pressure environment.

As I predicted, I was not a fast learner. I couldn't even get my wheel off at first. But with some good old-fashioned elbow grease and some patient guidance from the mechanics, I successfully removed both tires, took them apart, and put everything back together. Two and a half hours later, I was coated with a thin layer of bike grease, my thumbs felt like putty, (27-inch tires are TIGHT) and I had broken a nail. It was a good night.

Unfortunately, I must have tightened my brake pads or one of my wheels too tight, because I then rode home against some sort of resistance, which kept worsening by the block. Those five miles were tough. But hey, I made it. And now, I know which tool to take to my bike to fix the problem. Thanks, West Town Bikes.

Yep, That's How It Goes

A message from a friend I haven't talked to in a few months:

What are you up to? Do you have a job in journalism? A friend of mine has a masters from Medill and just got an internship at Huffpost and my sister graduated from NYU in journalism and is working at JCrew. So good luck, it must be tough.

When I Get a Job…

I am creating a list of things I shall do once I am employed. And I WILL become employed… some day. So I better make a list of what how to spend all this money once I have it.

- Make my first donation to This American Life
- Buy a bottle of wine that is more than $8. And some nice jeans. And some other material possessions.
- Move into a sweet one-bedroom apartment with my cat
- Register for yoga classes. And maybe a triathlon, too
- Create a Zipcar account
- Open a high-yield savings account
- Take my mom to dinner and a show

I can't wait. It's gonna be great.

Betsy Gets Another Byline

Months and months ago, I asked Rolph Potts for some tips about breaking into travel writing. He suggested that I pitch a story about something in Paris I knew better than anyone else. Something in which I was an "expert."

As an American who had only spent a year in Paris, I felt like I had nothing to unique to write about. Could there possible be some aspect of Paris I knew better than my Parisian friends? Well, I was the only person I knew who spent hours upon hours upon more hours running in Paris. A pitch was born.

I emailed an editor at a travel website with my idea. He bought it — not for much, but he bought it nonetheless. And so, Running in Paris: A Guide to Scenic Trails and Special Advice for the City was born.

(Grandma and Grandpa: Click on THIS to read it.)

A Grave Chicago Sin

You say Chicago, I say hot dog. Chicago. Hot. Dog. A real one looks like this (notice the lack of ketchup):

Yesterday I had two above-par hot dogs from America's Dog. This was first Chicago hot dog experience since before I left for France over a year ago. Needless to say, I was excited.

There was a problem though: too much dog. I was foolish to think I could eat two of these things. I made it through about a third of the second one when I went to grab a knife and fork so I could pick through the tasiest bits.

Wait, did you catch that? Because it took me about three minutes to realize what I was doing, get really embarrassed, and look around to see if anyone noticed. I was eating a Chicago hot dog with a KNIFE AND FORK.

I obviously looked like a tourist. I'm blaming France. France taught me to eat everything with cutlery, (French) fries included. I definitely did not look like someone who is, um, from Chicago. Where hot dogs are made to be eaten with your hands.

What I did wasn't just a mistake. It was a sin. I am so ashamed, and the best I can do it promise it will never happen again.