Monday, January 29, 2007


Today Anne Chantale asked me: why would you come to france to take courses in english?

Sunday, January 28, 2007

seulement une chose

First impressions can be very deceiving. Let's just leave it at That.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

J'aprrends quelque chose nouveau chaque jour

I left Madame a note last night that said my train returning from Avignon would be returning late and I would be sleeping "avec un ami," ie with a friend.

Tonight she explained to me that the note I had left in fact said I was sleeping "with a friend" ie in the same bed with that friend, and that I really should have said that I was sleeping "chez un ami," at a friend's house. I'm silly. I knew that. I will never make the same mistake again! Tomorrow I meet some of her famille — hooray!

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Un noveau copain

Today I met my new friend, a meeting which was set up through crazy Chantale at the relations internationals (tangent: Chantale really is crazy. I know this from observation and heresay. Said one of the students who was here last semester: Chantale hooks up with students. Said me: what exactly do you mean by hooks up? Said he: I mean Hooks Up). Anyway, the purpose is for me to practice French and him English. Seeing as he has already read Toni Morrison, George Orwell, and I forget whom else, his English is a little bit more advanced than my French. But I was telling him about how I have learned so much french grammar, that I'm great at conjugating verbs, but all that I've learned in French class hasn't proved me that useful in conversation. He has had the same experience in English classes. Then he talked about a contortonist, that he first must build flexibility in his muscles and strength in his bones, then can do amazing things with his body, but only because of that base of flexibility and strength. Perhaps, my friend said, it is the same way with learning another language, that it is important to learn the base of it and learn it well. This will prove useful when you begin to become a master of it.

I'm glad we are friends. I think he and I are going to a museum next week. Yesssssssssss.

Monday, January 15, 2007


Today Madame, Nina and I had a great laugh as Madame tried to explain to us the difference between c'est bien and c'est bon.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Ces Bottes

I found the boots. I tried them on. They were ugly. Also I had mixed feelings about buying them. Why is it so important that I have a pair of boots?

Saturday, January 13, 2007

un moment un peu triste pour votre auteur,

Today, on our scavenger hunt, I saw a pair of boots in a store window that I wanted to buy. But as we were busy trampsing willy nilly all over the city and completing meaningful tasks like counting the number of stairs of la montée De Lange (563 …ish), I did not buy them. I wrote down the name of the store and some street names and planned to come back later. When I did come back, I couldn't find the store. I felt certain I was on track, and then lost my sense of direction (which certainly isn't difficult for me). I kept returning to a point where I was certain I knew my bearings were correct, then took different routes from there. I did this three or four times. After awhile, my mission became less and less focused on the boots. I don't even remember what they looked like and am not even sure if I wanted to buy them anyway. But I set out to get ces bottes, and I was going to find them no matter how long it took. All I really wanted to accomplish was to find this store so I could say to myself 'Yes! You are not foolish! You knew where it was the whole time! It doesn't matter that it took you two hours to get there, you Got There!' Then I could buy the stupid boots and every time I wore them and perhaps got a compliment because they are just that cool, I could say "Thanks, I walked around Lyon for hours for these boots."

I didn't found the store and probably would have continued my search on the other side of the Rhône had it not been for a number of factors (little sleep last night with no blanket and my coat as a pillow, up early for scav. hunt, hunger, had been walking for about 4 hours total for the day, and on and on). But I literally could not go any further. And frankly, it was time to give up. I had tried my hardest. This wasn't going to happen. It was more disheartening than I would have expected it to be — because my hardest was not good enough to find the boot store. Now, with the aide of the internet, I have located the store on a map (it is indeed on the other side of the Rhône, how idiotic of me) and I can find it quickly and easily. But I wish I had been able to find it the first time. I am a little very sad. I tried to accomplish something and failed miserably. But worse things could certainly happen. I'll get over it. I think I am already over it.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

J'espere avoir ces six choses en France:

1, more Shoes!
2, unlimited supply of $$
3, Racky the Raccoon
4, retainer
5, fluent french speaking sillz
6, ma soeur

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

ils veulent trop d'argent de moi!

I am ashamed to be meandering up and down the isles of the French equivalent to Walmart. But I am poor, I have no options. I made a list of things I thought I needed, and immediately cut it down to necessities and do withouts when I got to Carrefour. For €60, I can live without a hair straightener. I will just get really good at braiding my hair. I made dramatic cuts on my already meager list. Not buying pencils. One pencil should last me the semester, and if not, maybe I can borrow one from someone and never give it back. How much food do I really need? I can survive on two meals a day. Do they sell trail mix here? Some things stayed on the list. Tampons, for example. However, if I only eat very little, then loose 20 lbs, my body will start malfunctioning and I won't need those either.

Ah yes, this is the life. It's either this or prostitution. I've tried the latter before, it's no good. Too many STDs.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007


My excitement about leaving for France tomorrow has manifested itself into total and utter fear. What is there to say on this topic? Trecking to a county whose language I am horrible at speaking is scary. Don't know anyone there, etc. etc. Right right, I bleed the ideal of independence. Doesn't matter. At this precise moment, I'd take the opportunity of stomping on a boy's heart until the point where it's not even worth recycling over this icky icky feeling. At least that's something I have experience with.