la fam

I haven't really felt homesick since I've been here. If you have spent more than five minutes around my dad, you might understand why. And I still don't feel homesick, in that sense of the word, but it's funny to communicate with them and think "that is so _______." I didn't really expect them to change or anything, but you know. For example, the christmas tree isn't down yet. My mom has spent the last two months looking for the wand that goes with our really crappy angel, and cut off every branch invidually in the search. My sister is feeling restless and jokes about quitting her job to become a pastry chef. My dad has littered the dining room table with bee keeping supplies. I can picture exactly how my family is living back there, exactly how they have not changed one bit. I wonder if I will fit back into the routine when I get back?

today is a holiday

I don't really care about valentine's day. Don't get me wrong, it's great to have a bf who will buy you a delicious dinner on this special day. But I think we all know that free delicious dinners are available year-round, and he doesn't have to be your boyfriend to buy. I'm not super anti-VD, I just don't think about it much. That is why it's nice when other people think about it, and then surprise me. For example, I received some scrumptious cracker cuts last year, as well as an Elvis impersonator with a dozen roses, and a free ticket to a concert. They were just gifts from my friends and from my grandpa, but I felt special.

So I wasn't thinking so much about it again this year. Well that is a little bit of a lie, because I was thinking about the horrible article I read in Direct Soir last night. Their "saint-valentin" story reminded me of something I would read in RedEye. Puke. Well Direct Soir is pratically RedEye, but I don't like to think that such low caliber material exists outside of RedEye.

Anyway, where I am going with this is that I was pleasantly surprised tonight because I got a little package from the fam. My next sentence was going to be a deep though about what this holiday really means, but I don't feel like getting into that mode right now. So I'll just end here.

things that make me happy

1. my new library card
2. the cds I got with my new library card
3. not giving a flip what I look like ever
4. running to the convergence point of the rivers just as arcade fire kicks in
5. that i can still do an easy 7

like it:

AVC: You have a song called "Caring Is Creepy." Do you really think caring is creepy?

JM: When I came up with that idea for the title, I was talking about how in my circle of friends—this was my circle of friends, especially in Albuquerque—you drink and you hang out and you talk and you make jokes and you do all that stuff, but as soon as you start talking about anything real, something that actually moves you or anything like that, it's just fucking awkward. You know, there's a lot of ways to kill a party—talking about politics and that shit—but I'm talking about anything that's heartfelt. That used to grump me out, so "Caring Is Creepy" is where that came from. The song itself is about a love of mine at the time that went south—it's fitting in that way.

- the a.v. club

read the rest at http://www.avclub.com/content/node/58319

Comment on dit "crunchy" en français?

My jeans are crunchy. My towel is crunchy. This is what happens when you must air dry things. The jeans will be fine. But I am worried about the towel. I am so worried I haven't taken a shower yet. I will try to play the not-take-a-shower game for as long as possible. Or I will just stand in the salle de bains until my body is completely dry. Otherwise, I might rip some skin off. The not-take-a-shower game isn't as fun as the annoy-the-pissy-french-girls-by-bumping-into-them-as-many-times-as-possible game that I played last night. Have you ever been to a bar that plays the remixed punk-rock version of "Summer Nights?" That's right, from that musical made famous by John Travolta. I hadn't either… until last night.

I: "I have never heard music this bad."
C: "I have. The last time I came here."

I don't know if you knew this or not, but I am really stupid

Tonight I got lost. It should have taken me about 10 minutes to walk home and it took me one hour. This is probably the lowest point I have hit since I have been here… why am I so incredibly incompetant? I walked in a frickin circle. I finally had to crack down and ask people how to get to the river. It's just like what happened with the boots. I wanted to find my way myself, but it clearly was not going to happen. I am just that big of an idot.

But I got home safely, (eventually) so it's all good now. High points of the night were being attacked by a homeless man who kept screaming at me "ALCOOL" while his dog barked at me and as Ben unwrapped his arms from me. Then he secured his death grip on Ben's fleece and it took him about five minutes free himself. I tried to help, but I was laughing too hard to be useful. I also really enjoyed spending time with Shannon and the drunk people playing in the fountain when I finally finally reached the five minute point from home.

Hey surprise surprise I used to be a lameass and probably still am

Today I went back and read some old blog posts. I started it just about a year ago. Now I am wondering why I had any friends then. I would not have wanted to be friends with myself.

That semester was one of the best of all of college thus far, not yet counting France. When I wasn't running 67 miles a day, apparently I spent the whole time sniffling over michael douglass, who had fake dumped me several months before. Why did I type an overload of blog entries about feeling sorry for myself? I missed hanging out amongst the six all fall. Good memories are climbing to the top of the quad, dancing until arcade fire until I felt faint, and sitting on the shotty couch on the balcony that sheds on you. I really don't have many distinct memories, I was just always so happy. That night I threw up on Douglass' floor was great though. Then I woke up the next morning and ran 8 miles. Dudes and chicks of spring '06, I miss you.

Now I am going to buy some tickets to the Alps and go out and party hearty in France.

hm,

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

seulement une chose

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

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!

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.

aujourd'hui

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.

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?

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.

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

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.

TeRRor!

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.

Christmas is, Christmas is (on a keyboard that sticks)

Two years ago was the worst Christmas ever in the Mikel household. I will spare you the details. It was horrible. Since then, my family has collectively and undiscussedly decided it will never happen again. We go to extremes, like the whole 11-foot real christmas tree shebang, dropping tons of money on presents, cooking/baking marathons that result in an amount of food that could not possibly be eaten by 4 people, no matter how hungry we were. The coffee table heaped with books, DVDs, shirtboxes, etc, etc, empty tin that used to have homemade fudge but the dog ate it. The fire place lousy with ashes from the roaring fires that have been burning for days. The fridge packed with leftovers. The tree heavy with hundreds, hundreds of bulbs.

The holiday reeks of lavishness unnatural to the Mikel family.

That one Christmas was so awful, that it really makes one appreciate a good Christmas even more. So my dad gave me a kleenex box in the shape of a totem pole. Is that really all I have to complain about? Yup.

The holiday season has begun

I hate Christmas lists. This is not what Christmas is all about. No, no, no, no, no. This isn't a holiday for you to receive all the stuff you were too cheap to buy for yourself over the past few months. Maybe stuff you couldn't afford. But Christmas lists take all the joy out of the holiday, which comes from painstalking searching for the perfect gift for someone based on that person's personality, taste and relationship to yourself.

'Well,' you're saying to yourself, 'how is anyone going to know what to get me? My Christmas list prevents my parents from buying me worthless trinkets I didn't want in the first place.' Hm. Well I say, Suck It Up. Christmas isn't about you. Do you think I wanted/needed footy (sp?) pajamas or a Discovery Kids fish tank over the last couple of years. There is no question mark at the end of that sentence because the answer is clear. What you get doesn't matter - mmm duh it's what you give. And so don't be a lame ass this holiday season and put some thought into gift giving instead of foolishly resorting to people's Christmas lists. You will ruin Christmas that way, you know.

I like to write posts about how peeved I am about life. It gives the impression that I am never happy. Ha!

Ode to the Great Things in LIfe

One of my favorite things in this world is free food. Food is delicious. And it costs money. No one likes to spend money. So what could be better than something delicious that costs nothing? I think we all know the answer here. Nothing better exists.

This post is inspired by the box of bagels and cream cheese I discovered on top of the microwave at Lee Hills. I was going to make some popcorn. Instead, my hunger can be satisfied by this no-cost cream cheese smothered bagel, and I can save the popcorn and eat it later. In the long run, I don't have to buy as much popcorn - um, awesome.

Now some people think us women have it hard in this world, ever struggling to eliminate the glass ceiling and all. Psh. I enjoy being female because it entitles me to more free food than my male peers. Guy-buying-girl food is much more common than the opposite action. Now that I think of it, one of the downfalls of being single is the amount of money I have to spend on food. I am going to find myself a boyfriend right this minute.