Packing List

I haven't started packing. I will soon. But I have started the process of accumulating things on the dining room table. I'll put everything on there that I would like to take. Then, I'll have to take out about half. But here are some things I will absolutely bring.

- Stickers. I might have a couple thousand, from a summer of stalking Target's dollar spot and the like. Stickers aren't a part of French school culture. But kids of all cultures love their stickers. I plan to bribe those little frenchies to make them be good.

- Heaps of over-the-counter meds. Ibuprofen, NyQuil, DayQuil, Pepto-Bismol to name a few. In France, you have to go to the doctor, get a prescription, then go to l'pharmacie for any of those things. Also, the French versions suck. Also, not worth the time or expense, especially when I'm sick, especially when I can just bring the delicious American drugs in my suitcase.

- GU Energy Gels and powdered Gatorade. Again, not available in France. I just registered for the Paris marathon. I can't train without the proper energy replacements. What do French athletes eat on their training runs, wine, cheese and baguettes? (probably).

Departure: SOON

I am leaving the country in 10 days. What? I feel like I should be running around freaking out. But I'm not. Just sitting here with Libby, my cat.

What I Will Miss

I'm on Megabus right now, using the free Megabus wifi. Earlier, I was placing holds on library books with my library's online system. The bus was 45 minutes late, but round-trip from Chicago to Columbia only cost me $34. So there's not much to complain about.

Wifi is almost unheard of in France. So are free libraries, and convenient online systems from which you can order and renew books from your personal computer. Not being on time is pretty standardly French, but bus tickets this cheap are not.

And an unrelated end note. The dude sitting next to me on this bus is obnoxious. He's way too old for the college-aged Megabus crowd. But he is not above spending the whole bus ride on his phone, talking very loudly about how wasted he gets all the time. Shenanigans in Peurto Rico, Istanbul, Madrid, wherever. Miraculously, he's never been jailed. Nope, not once. He just told the dude on the phone that Noel is no longer with them, which "is between you and me." Since he just told the whole bus, I believe he is incorrect.

Faint Memory of Barcelona

In redesigning the format and purpose of my blog, the header I've had forever is going to have to go. This one:

"He said he could see the shadows of two people dancing. they're in front of the tables. they're waltzing around. Her head is on his shoulder. you can tell by the way he holds her that he loves her." "That's a nice story. I'm sorry I don't see it."

It's from an exhibit I saw at a museum in Barcelona in the spring of 2007. I was alone exploring the city, I didn't speak Spanish, and I remember feeling very lonely. Thus, I was in the perfect mood to poke through a museum, where I would not have to speak to anyone and could contemplate art and life.

The exhibit: dark and old looking, and quite creepy. Strange and unstrange scenes, such as a bedroom or a medical office. Dialogues and sounds were activated as you stepped into each space. You felt as if you were stepping into someone's life, getting a little piece of it, then stepping out.


The dialogue I liked the most was the one I wrote down, and later slapped on my blog. I sat in a chair and listened to the voices of a man and woman. I interpretted that it was about hope and about love. Maybe these are two people who can never be together because they cannot hope and love in the same way.

You can make whatever story you want out of it. But there is some story. I like people's stories, and that is probably why I liked this exhibit.

Learn more about the exhibit, titled "Dark Pool," here.

Bzz bzz bzz

After a week of furious cleaning, menu planning and weather worrying, Sunday's honeybee party went on without a hitch. Papa Mikel gave a brave demonstration to the guests, Momma Mikel worked furiously in the kitchen and Mikel sisters were as dashing and entertaining as they ever were. Here I present to you the photos. Don't be jealous you weren't there.

I bought a dog bee costume at Target. But all three of our golden retrievers are too big for it. Here, Addie sports just the hat.

Dad smokes the bees while Amy brushes them off. Dad admits to being stung once, but we wonder if it was more.

This would have been a lot cooler of a picture if I had reversed the focus. Why do I always do that?

The bees of Hive #12.

Try some Mikel honey? Watch out, this batch had ants in it.

Feeling Better

The other day, I sent an email to my friend expressing a lot of my concerns: shipping off to a foreign country, leaving friends and family, not knowing anyone, trying to get the hang living and working there. In reading his reply, I realized how negative of an impression I gave him.

I don't always feel hopeless and discouraged when looking forward to this whole France thing. Sometimes I do. But just as often, I'm excited about all these challenges. As I'm trying to push through the piles of paperwork I anticipate the French will throw on me, I can always take a break and picnic under the Tour d'Eiffel. I'm not complaining about that.

I booked a hostel today, because I fear that my constant efforts to secure some sort of interim housing while I look for an apartment might not work. So I'll have to stay in a hostel for a week while I look for some dingy futon to sleep on. Then while sleeping on the dingy futon, I will look for an apartment. It's not the worst thing ever, as I feared it might be. It really will be okay.

uncertain

I've been going to lots of doctors appointments and things lately, where I'm always asked if I'm going back to school. No, I'm moving to France, I say. And then they gush about how that is just so exciting, they wish they could do something like that.

Yesterday or the day before I cried a little because I am scared about France.

How nice it would be to get a job and an apartment here and start building a comfortable little life for myself! But instead I am shipping off to this whole other country where I know hardly anyone, hoping I can make a good year out of it.

I feel better today, more confident about the whole thing. I am excited. I am. And it's terrifying at the same time. Adventures are fun, just less fun when they're taken on alone. I am more prepared for France than I was last time, so I hope that I can get more out of it. I just wish I could be as excited as all those receptionists at the doctor are.

Like Ryan in "The Office"

While between two important stages in my life (finishing college/internship and moving to France), I have made the even more live-changing decision to be a temp.

Temping is okay. I'm making a little bit of money, and the whole time I'm reminding myself this isn't my real life. Makes it easier to spend the day shredding paper (last summer) or handing out little fliers to people who don't want them (current temp job).

But it is depressing. At my last temp job, I had a very strong impression that everyone in the office pretty much hated their work. I only had to do boring work for a few weeks. But these people had to do it every day. Working a job you hate for years? It was downright depressing. They hated their jobs. So I hated mine, because even after I left, I knew they would all still be there, still miserable.

Yet here I am, temping again. I like this job better, because I get to walk around. In speaking with my salaried coworkers, I wonder if I would ever do this job for real. It's not what I love, but it's not horrible. And they have health insurance. Pretty good deal. I hate how much of an adult I sound like right now.

Chicago Weekend

I was in the city this weekend, and was so sad to have to come back to the suburbs. But I have to work at 6:15 a.m. tomorrow, and so the fun was over. Ate at a BYOB restaurant, so Amy and I enjoyed some wine and sushi, caught some Olympics, then went to see Showgirls at the Music Box. It was horrible and long, but pleasantly campy. Seeing that movie with a rowdy audience was fun. Then Amy and I planned to wake up to check out the triathlon downtown, but never made it there because we slept late.

In the afternoon, I went to this cool hipster salon and chopped off a ton of hair, which I intend to donate. Then saw a friend of a friend's dance/rhythm performance, ate some ice cream. Went running with Amy, watched the Olympic closing ceremonies, drove home.

Good weekend.

What Claudia Wore

My sister and I sometimes play this game where we try to recall events from books we read as children. Usually it's Babysitters Club or American Girl Books.

Like this: remember when Mallory's dad lost his job and her little sister really wanted a new Barbie but she didn't get it because they couldn't afford it?

Or: remember when Samantha's aunt took her to get ice cream at the end of "Changes for Samantha," but Samantha decided to get strawberry ice cream like she always did, because some things never change?

Well, on a similar note, my sister discovered this blog that chronicles the babysitter club character Claudia's wardrobe.

Check it out here.

Crash!

I fell off my bike a little less than a week ago. I was speeding down a hill, decided last minute to move onto the sidewalk, got stuck in between the sidewalk and grass, found myself in a heap with my bike on the ground.

It hurt. I was going to walk home, but walked to a friend's house closeby instead. Her boyfriend drove the bike and me home, where I sat and felt sorry for myself for several hours because my left shoulder was killing me.

I should have been wearing a helmet, and I'm lucky I didn't hit my head. I'm most pissed at myself for letting it happen in the first place, because this shoulder thing really sucks. When I go running, all I can do is let my arm hang limply at my side. It's uncomfortable and not efficient. Putting my two-foot long hair up in a ponytail requires concentration. It's getting better though. And my bike wasn't hurt at all. The handlebars got messed up, so I took it in, but the dude just bent them back into place.

Once my shoulder is back in full swing, I'm excited to bike riding again. I'll just be a bit more careful.

Alternative Story Telling

Ira Glass of This American Life, one of my icons, believes heavily in music. The surface of his hour-long show is just a bunch of often strangely related stories. If it weren't for the music that plays under the stories and throughout the pauses, the radio show would lack a lot of depth, tone and general appeal.

I stumbled on this article from Good Magazine about urban rooftop bee keeping. Check out the video part of the package. This video isn't terribly complicated. This offers just as much information as a similar news story would. But I wouldn't want to watch the news. The problem with the news is it's boring. In my opinion, it sucks.

Why don't news reporters pull the camera off the interviewee for a second and show a different perspective, why don't they incorporate music into their newscasts, why don't they run relevant sound tracks and images together? Is it too featuresque?

I would really just like a frozen pizza

My fridge? Kind of empty right now. I really want to go to the store and buy glorious heaps of vegetables and goodies for the cupboard, but that would be silly. I'm leaving in less than a week, so the wisest thing to do is eat up what I've got. Hamburgers, sloppy joes and Mac & cheese are going to power me through till Monday.

But I don't like it. In my lonely Des Moines existence, planning and preparing meals is one thing that has kept me company. Throwing together the last bits and pieces of food left in my kitchen makes me sad. Especially last night when the taco shells were stale.

I know once I hit the homeland, I can pretty much eat anything I want. Even if the fridge is packed full of stuff I don't like, mom will pick up what I do like at the store. So it's only for a few days that I'm in this icky fix. I have no reason to complain. Yet I'm complaining still.

First Iowa State Fair

Everyone at my office has been raving about this all summer. Or a few people have been raving enough that it seems like everyone has been. So I expected the Iowa State Fair to wow me as the be all, end all of fairs.

It wasn't.

Maybe it's because I went alone, or because I didn't do or see the right stuff. But it just seemed like a big frickin fair. Like the Illinois State Fair I went to a million times in my preteen years. It's just a lot of walking, fried foods and animals. It's cool for a few hours, but when I think about how I have to go back at least two more times… boooo.

Back

I took a 2 month hiatus from blogging, because I had a blog here. But I'm back now. Blogging almost every day has massively improved my mad blogging skills, so I hope my posts are less boring than before. Until next time. <3 me

Pretty

Amy sent me this photo:


Found via lilwilli's flickr photostream.

The time I love Rain The Most

I was so excited for it to gush down torrents of rain during my early evening run. I even wore a baseball cap so that I could still see through my glasses. It didn't happen. boooooooooooooooo.

home (?)

I'm just about finished putting my Des Moines room together. Pretty much all that's left is to refold all my clothes and organize according to category. Folding clothes is one of my least favorite things to do.

It's taken a couple of trips to Target and a lot of arranging and hammering and sticking and hanging. And now that I'm nearly the end of getting comfortable, I'm thinking how three months isn't realy that long. 92 days. 13 weeks. I guess it's a quarter of a year. But still, not that long.

How much time is it worth investing here, if I will be gone as soon as I've arrived? But, as this is 100 percent of my life right now, I guess that is a really silly question. Just because I am only here for a short time doesn't give me any sort of excuse not to explore things, experience things, etc. etc. etc. I guess that includes getting lost. To add to the count, I've also been lost driving home from the movie theater and seeking out a bar. I actually don't even know the count.

Fresh makes me feel better

This morning I woke up late (8:30/9) and rode my bike to the farmer's market. For some bizarre reason, this is something I rarely did in France and never did in Columbia. I'm not sure why. The place was packed thanks to the weather and a 20k race somewhere downtown. So lots of good people watching, and streets of purchasable foods and plants and things.

I think I was responsable with my funds and bought the following:
small bunch of asaparagus ($3)
an avocado ($1)
green beans ($2)
cilantro ($1)
blueberry/raspberry jam ($3)
egg roll ($1)
name of Mexican dish I forgot ($3)

I resisted purchasing a snowcone, goat cheese, homemade ice cream and wished my cupboard was empty of bread, wine and honey so I could have bought those things, too. I'm so excited for strawberries to come in season at the end of July!

je me suis perdue (comme toujours)

This is a truth I cannot deny: I loose things. House keys, car keys, and cell phone are favorites. Today, I lost myself when I lost my car.

And this wasn't a simple "wait, which row did I park in at the mall?" No, I parked on 16th street. I work on 8th street. I couldn't find my car. For an hour.

The problem is I didn't make a mental note of the street on which I parked. Even knowing I have this enormous difficulty with directions and remembering where I put things, I still thought at the end of my work day, I could just recall what the general area looked like. And in fact, if I had any common sense, I probably could have. My second problem is that I don't have common sense.

One time, in France, I lost my apartment. It was also 2 a.m. on a weekend, and I was alone. This happens often. Every time I move to a new place, and even when I have lived somewhere for years. It's great!

Okay, it's not great. But now that my car and I are found, I can look back and say, well at least I wasn't wearing uncomfortable shoes, at least it wasn't raining, at least I had half a chipotle burrito in case I got hungry. It could have been worse.