Jittery Girl

2004-10-19T14:32:00.000+02:00

My Ass It Drageth Badly:

In my defense nothing that funny or interesting has been going on, and that which has has had me in a not so pleasant atmosphere. However, as penance for my disappearing act which will most likely continue, and in light of it being Halloween Time; in the spirit of NO TINK ONLY YOU, and for the love of Halloween and missing my candy corn... I bring you a Scary Story. I call it Frenchie had to go. All my friends said I had to share it cause they are laughing hard and so should you.

And for the record. I COMPLETELY comprehend why men run screaming at dolphin tones when women get all clingy. I will write a blood oath to NEVER be all up in that shit.

I had a discussion about it with my bestest friend- otherwise known as gay turkey-basting husband to be (what like you wouldn’t make a "if we get this old and are lonely well have kids and be sexually divergent" pact with your friends??) Here is your laugh-a-minute transcript.

Me: Oh I am so not allowed to date ever again. We are having super human children together and you will buy me sex toys. End of discussion this is going to be the existence here in our house! Seriously this shit is for the birds or people with interpersonal skills.
Him: What did you do this time?
Me: I let shit get out of control and now I have to do clean up. Seriously, Frenchie is pulling le freak on me. I knew I shouldn’t have gone out on a date with him. Now dating practice is disaster control. First he calls almost daily, once during my interview with the French Foreign Ministry- I no longer pick up calls from unidentified numbers; then he emails all over the place. I was hoping that my chilling words would douse the fires but NOOOOOO he goes all flowery on my ass.
Him: Flowery?
Me: The epitome of flowery. I miss your tender eyes and velvety soft flowing voice. So flowery I gagged just thinking about it again. Then when I backed out of meeting with him as he was going to meet me somewhere and we could then go to an intimate place... And in response to my back out- I have a headache (really when did I get all vintage 1950, not good for the hard core feminist façade) he says but if I had your address I would send you flowers... OH FUCK, I thought I was all romantic and girly but I am not. Seriously when did I grow the dick over here?
Him: Shit I just gagged too. But sweetie you have always been a Butch Gay Man. You have bigger balls than most men I have seen and I have been around the block
Me: That you have... Ahhhh so that is why you love me muchly!!
Him: Bitch... Yes if you flipped your hand I would lop it off faster than a Turkish Imam.
Me: But now I cant get rid of him. Seriously he is not leaving the building. And Elvis needs to get the fuck off my planet. The last straw on this camels back was when the Freak stalked me to the library!!!
Him: He did what??? Honey you didn’t dominate law school for nothing, restrain his ass with three ply leather strap downs.
Me: And even worse he has my necklace from our trip to Venice. So after a few more cool messages he has just emailed saying, I think you do not want to meet me (I cannot be a lesbian, this prissy shit its for the Poodles, WHAT man would want a pouty woman?? Corresponding face with corresponding emotion- see life is simple). So I bit the bullet; I sent the no fucking mistake email(tm). You know the one with a message that you can read from the NASA Space Station. I was nice (hey I want my necklace) and said, I would like to meet with you but I should have been more upfront about my situation and limits. I have too many things demanding of me in my life, and I don’t have the time for any relationship right now. So all I can offer is friendship and nothing more. I hope you understand (and give me back my necklace you Noix de Gateaux aux Fruits)
Him: Ok so here is the deal; you make a meeting meet with the bitch and you grab the necklace you say look you just cant be involved until your genital herpes flair up calms down and you haul ass out of the Starbucks.
Me: Well only after I hit him with a two by four for being such a dumb fuck. I knight you *in the unconventional way* You, you cannot procreate on my planet... But I will definitely keep that in there as back up plan #1

Insert Notes: I set up a meeting with him on Sunday afternoon at Starbucks (which I should note 1. Coffee puts me to sleep, 2. I don’t go to Starbucks that often and 3. when I do go it is for a REAL MUFFIN). I chose Starbucks as I was DREADING this and there would be a pay off (MUFFIN BAYBEEEE) and it would be hugely public.

Him: How did it go?
Me: Well it went and I have the necklace with a renewed ultra strength freak magnet.
Him: Awww yeah bring on the story, it is time for Disasterpiece Theatre beyotches...
Me: Well so I sent the email he said I understand completely and I respect that. So I kind of thought hey I might get off easy. Super Microsoft Friend #1 is a result of my whack ‘em in the balls honesty right...
Him: Yup never have to wonder where you stand...
Me: Shut it bitch before I slap your ass
Him: You know what I like... so how did it go down?
Me: Well we met up and I did the whole "I read the body language chapter and this is everything combined that they say should make sure you know that this is not going anywhere " dance. I nervous chattered.
Him: That should have sent him running
Me: I am so going to bitch slap you like Shiva for that next time I see you!!! Anyways I got my muffin went and sat upstairs, me keeping my bits away from him. Every sentence was explicitly designed to indicate I did not have a single nanosecond of time for him in my life.
Him: Aren’t you just sugar, spice and everything nice?
Me: How long have you known me- I thought you were more perceptive than that. Now go put your dunce cone on and sit your listening only ass in the corner. Thank you!
Me: So before anything I get the necklace and he is like I have it here. NO GIMME... Insistent as I am and on a mission I was like "can I please have it now" (you know in case I have to run like a wolf with the wind??). He hands it over, I know at this point all is safe. I have the necklace and I have to meet a friend in 30 minutes... I will survive.
Him: Are you singing again?
Me: Yes this is a musical rendition of when things go wrong in my life. Now shut the fuck up so I can finish as he hasn’t gone all freaky on my ass yet, and I know you want the juicy shit.
Him: Ok
Me: Ha I can get one word responses out of him... ok stop. So while we are talking I tell him about the travels I have coming up- a meeting in Stockholm, a working group meeting in England, a trip to visit my family, and me most likely moving. During which he does this whole grab her hand mid air (should note that as a good Spaniard, I talk with my hands propelling about me occasionally lifting me off the floor) and pull it in saying NOOO like a coy pouty three year old. To which I recoil faster than you when you want to get sprung. And here comes the fizzy dizzy wing dinger of em all Daddy
Him: HA you know whose your Daddy. So lets get Sprung!!
Me: SHUT IT if you want to hear Monsieur le Freak.
Him: Shutting the toilet lid.
Me: He says well I have some vacation time coming up. I say that is great trying to cut the bastard off at the pass, but I was not quick enough. He continued on to say he might be interested in going to Sweden when as I going... I promptly inserted that that was not possible, not with me. He followed up with well if not then I wanted to propose to take you on a trip to somewhere in France that you would like to see.
Him: He WHAT??
Me: Yes my lovely husband to be... We have entered the Twilight Zone; where after one date when the girl tells you she just wants to be friends- you do the logical thing and invite her on a vacation. But now my dear we do not leave it there. I do not pull minor freaks I pull the major ones, the ones with de cajones. I fish with the big boys bitch. Basshole fishing I have a bumpersticker for it! Attached to my forehead.
Him: Dear Buddha what did the twat do next?
Me: Well I tried to ignore that whole let me take you on a romantic weekend- I am the energizer bunny act (again that penis enlargement spam... maybe it wasn’t misdirected I think I see something pointing his way to the door). I kept talking so fast that he couldn’t get a word in.
Him: Brilliant strategy
Me: I thought so and then I was like what is the time- ok I must go. And he was like well but I have one more thing. I am like sure just get it OVER with. He says- I must tell you how I have been dreaming about you all week and your luscious lips and I want to kiss you desperately swinging you in my arms.
Him: Have you brought up your genital herpes yet??
Me: No instead I keep repeating no as he lunges towards me. NO NO NOOOOOOOOO. WHAT THE FUCK, I just got this muffin I can NOT projectile vomit it back up!!
Him: Way to make a scene
Me: Like I am afraid of making a scene? I have been the center of attention to a crowd of over 100,000 people with a guys hand up my ass... come on??
Me: So I say look I told you friends only, he says I understand; I respect that, but I must express my feelings for you. I am like umm yeah feel that its my boot expressing your flowery disrespectful ass to the curb.
*Cue me running away from Monsieur le Freak faster than a speeding bullet*
Him: That is one for the story books
Me: Ummm yeah, I need to find me a normal person. Hey did I tell you my cute Italian Professor friend is moving to Paris for 2.5 months??
Him: You soooooo have ADD
Me: Huh?? Wanna ride Bikes??

Yes you have hopefully not been frightened within a whit of your life and instead been entertained. Otherwise I typed in the computer lab for nothing. Go forth and prosper. I hope to return at a future date when I am done writing about the riveting topic of how taxation affects female employment, I get this interview with the OECD over and I am able to make a decision.

HAHAHAHA you may never see me again...

2004-10-08T13:11:00.000+02:00

AH Putain!:

Where has the time gone?? I do not know but I do not like that it has gone. I need to have a talk with someone about this... And underwraps and work is a "redesign" of the blogger template. Hopefully I will have it up some time next week.

In the mean time, here is a quick random update.

I made the call and I got the interview. Yes I was in possession of a special badge to access the French Foreign Ministry. And it was great. Well until Mr. Long Legs (one of the interviewers) took me up 8 flights of stairs. Three or four flights I am there with you and fine. Eight at haul ass pace- I was out of breath, and it was EARLY in the morning. I am not a morning person in case you didn't get that memo. Waking up early, to get grilled in French, yup a dream come true... I managed to get myself through the interview and I am breathing ok now. I think they liked me, they asked 3 times if I could start soon. It isn't paid though and that could be a problem. Oh well we'll see what they say.

Then that date I went on, the one that went oh so wrong in oh so many ways... This right here is the reason I should not be allowed to date people. Frenchie has gone and gotten all flowery on my ass. And you know what the wooing, it is making me royally gag. I guess I am not that romantic after all... I am trying to let him down easy, but if he hasn't really GOTTEN the point by Sunday I am going to hit him over the head with a 2x4 cause some of this shit is starting to creep me the fuck out!

So I have gotten a fair amount of comments on my research and some excited emails from the Northern friends (as I call my Scandinavian Mafia friends) and it looks like as a treat for finshing this Mofo dissertation, I am going to treat myself with a visit. YEAH for travel. Piss and vinegar for finishing up Mofo. But it will be done... in 22 days SHIT!!! SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!

In the mean time I have been nominated for a Presidential Management Fellowship. Yup I am serious folks, someone went crazy and well it wasn't me this time. I am kind of hoping that management is the active verb in that acronym- my memo might get some good use then. I am sure there will be another memo tomorrow too. Yes I am staying up to watch the debate- even though the last time fucked up my sleeping working schedule all week.

And in a final note, I have conqueored the intricacies of plumbing French. See that tinkle tinkle you might have heard over here... it was not me on the potty. It was chinese water torture otherwise known as a leak in my shower. Water dripping from the ceiling- YEAH. All 2x2 ft of it. So I had the plumber over to take a looksie. It is always a good sign when they say "Ah Putain" repeatedly and then bring a saw upstairs. But the leak isn't my fault it is the 4th floors fault. He managed to cut out a chunk of my drywall ceiling, so everything smells moldy- mmmmm the smell of mold and breakfast. And of course I always feel better having a hole that looks like a rat could fall out of to take my shower under. The nightmares this could spring on me. I think I am going to be taking showers at the pool, for the next two months... I love my apartment.

Oui C'est La Vie en Rose!

2004-10-01T20:17:00.000+02:00

Stop the Insanity:

So I stayed up until 5 am today. Why would be an idiot and do that you ask? Am I reprising my role as Vampira? Probably- outfit and cabaret singing for the weekend shows. Was it the raging night at the corner karaoke bar? Sure it was but I wasn’t drinking or singing that nasty ass 70’s compilation shit. In the olden days it would have been part of the party till its 1999 theme track. Nowadays it is part of the "I hate Time Zone differences" party line. Oh yeah and I am a political science geek/ responsible citizen too.

Yes everyone, I stayed up to watch the first 2004 Presidential debate. The debate that I thought started at 1am but really started at 3am. I watched all 90 minutes of it, knitting and wide awake. I say stayed up because if I had tried to wake up at that hour… Well those who know me and my "morning face" can pick your asses up off the floor. And stop laughing.

I thought I would rupture an artery or something over all the hot air Bush was trying to huff; but honestly I could handle it as each contestant on each question got no more than 3 minutes. I was impressed with Kerry’s reasoning capacities and his debating skills. No it wasn’t a resounding hum-dinger with fireworks kind of debate. True, there was no clear winner. But Kerry delivered on the goods. He connected, he was on target, he kept Georgie Porgie on the defensive and he was finally able to tackle head on some of the bobblehead’s talking points and wiping the floor with Bush's ass. And those Freudian slips George made (Serious George it was Al Qaeda who attacked us not Saddam, that Arabic stuff might all sound the same... but its not)

And in the interest of playing debate coach (hey I did debate as a “kid”- what do you expect of a legal and logic geek?), I have an attached memo for George Bush.

Memo to George:
1. Stop saying duty- FULL STOP. You make it sounds like doodie. And that is funny shit to say when you look like a chimp. Yes, I am childish enough to laugh at that.
2. When you talk about Iranian Mullahs- please don’t say Moo-las, unless you are calling them cows or the money train. And really that is less diplomatic than forgetting Poland and “denigrading” their contributions.
3. That wandering mumbling consistency bullshit you had on rinse, lather, repeat? How can you lead if you change your position under pressure (or evidence as I like to call it) … after the 8th time with lots of ummm’s in there, even I lost attention. But it will make for a great drinking game. Shots every time he says “wrong place, wrong war, wrong time”. WHEEEE the soldiers might not be tanked appropriately but I will be and I won't have to use Jaeger to get me there!
4. Oh and learn from Daddy do NOT get caught on the screen looking all rattled and irritated when your opponent looks calm, presidential and can effin speak English

Thanks Muchly,
Tink
A non-subservient citizen of the non-elected President

The real reason I was an idiot to stay up had nothing to do with the fact that watching Bush talk annoys the shit out of me. Amazingly I was able to keep most of my Tourettes under control. And really I felt bad for him; he couldn’t string his thoughts together. There was no coherence or logical rigor to his arguments. There was just a talking point, and repetition like Bush employs only serves to annoy rather than "drive the point home." In small doses without his speech writer and teleprompter, he really does look pathetic. I can only hope that the American public will awaken from this cauchemar to realize it is the enormity of the failures in foreign policy that currently insulate Bush from accountability. Which is the only thing that will regain the US any of it's credibility.

No, it is because I had a meeting this morning with Him Who Stares and Scares on the first draft of my dissertation. At 9:30 am. Which means I had to be ready and out the door by 9am... Ok if it has not been established before (see above note to shut it!); I am soooooo not a morning person. But what was really nice about this meeting is that I was not fluttery nervous! I had a selvedge edge of liberty since the comments from Him the Non-Communicative were mostly positive. And at the end of the day, it is Him the Non-Communicative who is responsible for my grade. When I got there with bags under my eyes and in my hand at 9:30AM, don’t ask how I did it- I don’t know, he of course asked me to wait so he could finish reading the comments from Him the Non-Communicative.

I thought for a while it was going to be really odd after the whole conference set of things and understanding the way his mind works... but you know what it went relatively well. His English was entertaining as always, but no zingers. He was sincere but direct and had some tact. HOLY SHIT Him Who Stares and Scares can employ tact! He even apologized for his "harshness" in advance making reference to his lack of English skills. Seriously, it was like seeing the revelations unfold right in front of my very own eyes. And he was smart and helpful; he wasn’t all asshatty or twisting the pinecones. Even better he laughed at something I said. Oh.Mi.God the sun has shone and there can be humor; about damn time. I think he might even see me as more than a pair of breasts; you know I just might be a human- on the radar. I was completely taken aback.

Yes I have some more incorporation/organizational work to do on this research. And all of his comments were supportive and constructive. Well taken and some make me think; in that great I have more to do- but in an "it will help my paper" kind of way. He even made the nice "it would get a good grade as it is now, but I know you can make it better" comment. Hey people believe in my capabilities, they belive in what I am saying and he can pull out some of those points I need to clear up. They are there, they are! Really at the end of the day, he is a good advisor to have on my panel.

And then to bring things full circle, cause with all my research on welfare nexus triangles I am so over that shape. It seems other French people saw the debate too. As I sit here typing this with my Financial Times and morning OJ in the Crous (think student union/cafeteria/computer lab) I am hearing the "locals" chatter. They talk in French and then make the most hysterical of inserts in dead on Bush English of the Bobblehead’s talking points. And they make an ass out of him even more than I am. I love living in France- where they have a sense of humor and the concept of patriotism isn’t perverted.

Now to get my bravery up and go to a cabine to call the French Foreign Ministry… NOW I am fluttery and nervous!

2004-09-30T18:43:00.000+02:00

Holy Shizer!

So you know that whole French CV creation escapade I went through last earlier this month. And that I heard nothing back from... Yeah that one. The one I had given up on and threw to the wind. Well that would be in the past.

I got a call this afternoon (that I let go to the Repondeur because there was no ID number and often when I get calls like that at almost 7pm it is freaking Canal Plus or someone else trying to sell me something). This is for a position with the French Foreign Minister. You know that guy you see on TV, at the UN, jetting all over the Middle East? Monsieur, Ministre Michel Barnier... yeah him the one I met back in March when he was an EU Commissioner. It is HIS office.

I am in TOTAL and COMPLETE UTTER freak out. The position would be helping the French government to prepare and run the campaign surrounding the ratification of the European Constitution. Oh.Mi.God!! I dont know if my French is up to this. So I have a meeting with Him who Stares and Scares tomorrow, I have a call to make to a man in the Foreign Ministry hoping that my French can pass the muster whilst under pressure and on a cell phone making it all the harder, and I have to try and figure out some of my life.

No Pressure or Anything! When it rains damn does it pour.

2004-09-27T23:37:00.000+02:00

WHEEEEEEEEEE:

You see this?? This is what I look like when I am on speed. Yes I dance like a whack freak. Cant you tell? That is me swinging from the rafters or actually my "termite ridden" Poutres. I am ON TOP OF THE WORLD. I am so excited and I just cant hide it.... ok so I need to stop with the cheesy quotes, but seriously I am giddy- whaddya expect?

I just got my feedback from Him the Non-Communicative. I wasnt expecting it for another week or so but just as I was about to turn off my computer there popped up that email notification. And there went my stomach, I just ate a cookie and I seriously thought I might loose it. I was in KNOTS. He was as always non-communicative. I had completely dreaded opening this email, but I made myself do it immediately. One of those if you are going to take the scab off with the bandaid rip it quick and get it over with kind of deals.

I was SURE I was going to be trashed and cut to the ground. I had this complete feeling like my ass was grass and he was the mower. I expected scathing commentaries or at least cutting and red track comments all over the document. First of all they were blue and much further apart than I expected, and second of all they werent about criticising. No I got nice comments. "What you have here is in pretty good shape," just one more chapter to finish. Now I know that doesnt sound like much but from the economical and non-emotional Him the Non-Communicative that is LAVISH praise.

Most of his "corrections" were things like "this is not a sentence" or "clarify a bit further." There were a handful of you might want to include this or that citation/data, all relevant. Cause Him the Non-Communicative is Smart! Not things of the magnitude such as re-organize this, support your claims, include this, detail that, like I had expected. I expected too many constructive things... he wasnt going at my research like I expected at all. I think he might even like it, or at least agree with it. I am not allowed to read it more than once because I will start creating things between the lines and I am going to bask in this glory here and now!

Do you know how nice it is receive a surprise like this? I cant even begin to describe it. I can NOT control myself. I am singing I am dancing I am going to get a drink and I dont care if it is Midnight on a freaking Monday! This has completely made my week. Here I was thinking I was going to be the first one not to graduate. That I was just not going to make it. But really I think I might! And I might make it with smiles and recommendations. I might even think again of submitting this research like people who I had spoken about it with (but not let them read out of paranoia) suggested. You know in that whole trust the smart people who say things about you that maybe you dont see but that might be there, vein and all.

And can I say after trying to get a meeting with Him Who Stares and Scares set up (for this Friday, though his English keeps saying NEXT Friday- yeah use English it is so much easier to understand) and getting these comments from Him the Non-Communicative (also known as Him Who Is Responsible For Grading the Bloody Dissertation and Granting My Degree) I am just about ready to tell Him Who Stares and Scares to get a new calendar. I wont cause I want the letter of rec, but I am sooooo tempted to email the comments to him before Friday.

This was JUST the nice boot in the derriere that I needed to get my act together to get started with the last chapter. I have all I need to put it together (well all but one book but that is not a big deal) and I can get started right away. I think tomorrow is going to be a good day you know!

2004-09-26T22:15:00.000+02:00

Two Points:

Point One-
Metro Man to Save the Day......
I have to thoroughly check myself when I leave the flat. I make sure I have all my accoutrements. Money- Check, Camera- Check, Chapstick- Check, Keys- Check... Am I forgetting anything?? Nah...

So today I woke myself up and I went to have a lovely brunch/lunch with LOVELY ladies. It was a wonderful sunny, lazy type of morning and a brunch with people that were easy to be around. I could be me and they were just LOVELY. And I ate divine lemon meringue, mmmmmm.....

And then I went to the Metro. I have spent most of this summer walking. It's good for the ass and the pocketbook, so who am I to complain. But I forgot about the freaks. You would think that might mean that I didnt renew my freak magnet. I mean why would I need to renew it this year? You however would be wrong. Oh so VERY wrong.

So with a "wow I wish you were staying longer" feeling I sent my lovely ladies on their way to go deep under water. Then I jogged over and got on my Metro home. 15 seconds after getting in the car the radar goes off the deep end. The magnet polarization can NOT be denied, forces of attraction have all centered on me in my Metro car. There is this big man with dreds spiking out his head. Not in that cute Busta Rhymes kind of way, but in that "I have Martian Antennae coming out my head to talk with the Mothership" kind of way.

He starts by asking me if I would like to go get something to eat with him. I dont look at him- there are some crazies you know better than to look at; I just respond no- thank you. At this point that sinking feeling starts coming into my stomach... oh shit did I send my freak magnet renewal off in the mail and not know it?? Was that my credit card I remembered or was it...Well he then started yelling at me and talking with his other friends. Two of whom need dentures and they are not in the geriatric group either. He is yelling all sorts of things. And by yelling I mean SHOUTING at the top of his lungs. I have to respect that I guess. If you are going to make a scene well, this one knew how to do it right.

And to do it right you must decry the injustice of life and inhumanity I display towards it by not going to get something to eat with you. You must tell everyone how the pretty people shame you. How you are never good enough. How you like pate and fois gras too. And then you must lay into her Royal Bitchiness as he referred to me. Detailing people like me who think we are better than every day Martians. How I take issue with his ancestors being from the colonies (umm yes he said the colonies...). How I must be some uptight kind of bitch and only he could remove that kind of uptightness. How I am the kind of woman who likes to buy her bread only out of the oven.

The two other men who are crammed in by me give me looks of condolence. You know that kind of "I am sorry the crazies are picking on you" kind of look. I make the BIG mistake of responding- saying well what do you do with the crazies? You dont effin talk to them... and in case you forgot ALL people on the Metro are crazies. Damn when will I ever learn.

And yes the story gets even better. As our Martian Freak starts telling the whole Metro car that he is going to PSYCHOANALYZE me. Damn who knew you could get all that for the price of a Metro ticket. Shit if I only had known I wouldnt be paying my shrink I just would have bought a plane ticket to Paris and a Carte Orange. Probably would have saved me money too.

He starts hypothesizing and countering many things about me. I like to put my jam on the bread upside down. I do not like painting my toenails. At this point I am laughing out loud, staring out the window but laughing. I am NOT making a single word of this up. I mean seriously I couldnt make this shit up if I tried. This is one of those things in life I ask does this happen to anyone else? NO TINK JUST YOU. But little did I know my adventure with Martian Man for 8 Metro stops would be upped. Oh yes that "normal" looking guy who was all I am sorry they are bothering you... yeah HIM.

He follows me through my changes to my stop and gets out of the Metro with me. He first trys to small talk- oh I work just right by here, I hear a bit of an accent where are you from. Oh that's nice BYE. And then starts hassling me about do I want to get something to drink with him. I say no but thank you. Thinking shit did I upgrade my Freak Magnet when I renewed this year? Look Mademoiselle, I am not like those other guys... Sure you're not, all the same I have other things to do- no thank you. He goes off yelling at me how I am a Bitch.

Dude if that was all I had to make clear, I would have whipped out my Bitch Badge with pride and taken care of this at the beginning. Then again I wouldnt have a story to share either. But I still stand by my customer service assessment. They need to warn people that the freak magnet has SERIOUS kicking power. This is the shit that makes Italian men hump your leg, this is what makes German men try to follow you into the bathroom, and it is what makes that man from Mars think he is a Psychiatrist.

Second Point:
This Message Is Brought To You By The Letter OW-

I am feeling the pain today, really FEELING the pain. I dont know what I was thinking, thinking that I could jump into the energizer bunny life set. Well I know what I was thinking. And I should have known better. Every muscle in my whole fucking body is talking to me in ways, manners and on terms we have not discussed for years. On other days this might have made me happy, feeling can be a good thing, but like I said I should have known better.

Please pray that I can figure out how to make this pain go away (let the warm water in my shower work PLEASE and no Karaoke tonight) and get myself out of this mess. I have such an innate ability to get myself into a mess and well I need to learn how to get out I guess. Though I really think it might be better to just learn my freaking limitations and not get into the situation in the first place. But then the letter OW wouldnt be so bloody popular to shout in the flat today.

2004-09-20T11:19:00.000+02:00

Fall Here We Come:

I woke up early this morning (7am) and it wasnt light out like it has been for the past couple months. I opened my window and there was a bite of chill in the air- crisp like the first bite into a granny smith apple. Ileaned out and watched the peaceful silence that was my rue. The rue and horizon was clear and green, but it felt like something internal had shifted. My internal clock's way saying to me that Summer was over. It was time for the flip flops and strappy dresses to go back into storage. Saying that while Fall might not be here, it is on the way.

Something about the changes in seasons makes me feel like I have a fresh start. I can start anew, I can change what I want, I can shed my skin and grow a new one. I dont really have a favorite season; probably a side effect of growing up in a location that really didnt have any seasons besides Summer. I respond differently to each season, loving them all equally and additionally disenchanted with portions of all seasons. But when one shifts I feel like it's my chance.

I am not exactly ready for the change in seasons; I am enjoying this bit of shoulder that I have here right now, sunny crisp and just right (23C/75F). But something about me is ITCHING for Fall. itching to shed my skin, become something new. Itching for the warm snuggly days with a sweater to keep the wind at bay. Looking forward to those days where I go down to the river and watch the leaves change through the glorious colors of Fall (I will miss my Seattle Japanese Maples in the vivid reds though). Where I can curl up with my knitting dreaming of the day when I will have a fireplace to do that in front of (even if it is an electric one!).

But more so I want to wear my boots again, my thigh high boots that were my favorite purchase last year. So much so that I want to get another pair! Not only because my feet look like shit and I cant get that needed pedicure, but also becuase cool boots will make you feel like you can handle anything. And if I cant handle it at least I can kick it hard :)

I think that reflects my mood today, in need of a stiff steel toed boot up the derriere to do the things have been putting off for way too long in my life; and at the same time a kick from my boot to those loose ends that I am tying up in life which are making me a bit antsy.

2004-09-17T18:13:00.000+02:00

Well I Did It:

Good thing I have my friend Jeff who knows how to ride my ass like Zorro. He also knows how to entertain and support me (read talk me down off the ledge) so if I havent said it lately. I LOVE Jeff! (I love him even more now that I have IM proof Ithat I was RIGHT- BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

So what did I do? I drafted the hunk of junk (aka dissertation) up; putting all chapters together and the apendixes, inserted all tables and I hit send. Yes I did what I should have done a long time ago... now comes the waiting. And that is the horrible part, well the before horrible part, cause the comments have the potential to be the hideous part too... OH WHY OH WHY did I EVER think I should do this?

My stomach is in knots. Its irrelevant that my stomach felt like shit before I hit send. But right now I am refusing to put the good food I actually *LEFT* the apartment to get yesterday as my stomach and lower intestines have been making rumblings of a revolt or coup.

I am going to spend the rest of today hiding under my covers I think, revelling in my I sent shit feelings and trying to quell the uprising.

2004-09-16T09:41:00.000+02:00

Vortex:

My apartment is getting all sorts of new names. I first began referring to it as the Bat Cave. You know the dark place where I hide and work and have no clue that there is external life. It is a nice place (all 200 square feet/ 19 square meters of it), just missing the complimentary Batmobile- to oh I dont know... get the hell out of it on occassion.

Next name up on the list was the affectionate term of endearment: mon petit Hermit Shell. Now that the fun conference is over- I dont talk to people anymore. I know that teh vibrant part of me isnt lost, but we are not in daily contact either. And since I have recently realized HOW broke I am, I do not go out either. I am IN my shell and I am not coming out. Nope not even for food (its a diet too, whaddya know), and I really do need to get me to a grocery store.

And this morning we have progressed to become the Vortex of all Coherent and Intelligent Thought, yup- ALL. OF. IT that I ever could have pretended to possess. Think of it kind of like the black hole with the an exorcist wind spinning around me pulling my grey matter all out of my ears and such. Actually to be exact, pulling out what is left after that nice little demon took to scrubbing the insides of my cranial cavity with a freaking brillo scrubber- MUST. BE. CLEAN- of everything. What is my name again?

What I want to know is why does my apartment forsake me? I try to treat it well. I must learn to focus again! I must get me some patterns (for knitting too...) I must pull my life together. I Must hit send today to Him the Non-Communicative. I MUST, I MUST (increase my bust- or not... why did that come out?)

Therfore as a PSA to all- if you are looking for smart, sassy, witty, acerbic, or any other such thing- go on now and move along, it does not reside here.

2004-09-16T01:09:00.000+02:00

OH MI GOD:

This is great. I love my friends. They know when I am having a shitty day and they do things to try and perk me up (so that I will get my act together on that whole dissertation submission- why not wait till tomorrow...)

So without further ado (since I am not allowed to blog tomorrow/today- I GOTTA get that email out to Him the Non-Communicative!)

I give you the link that made me laugh my ass off.

I love you SF, I love you Craigslist, I love you, Love You, LOVE YOU Katie!

2004-09-15T10:24:00.000+02:00

Open Letter:
The below is an episode where Tink rears her Yankee Head at the Frogs.
It doesnt happen often people so "enjoy" it while you can.

Dear Noos.fr,

You know that whole deal where I signed up for your service and it seemed so simple, like such a good idea. Well it seems in the little fine French print you bought the rights to my soul, and I would like to call you Putain.fr for that. First you screw around with my monthly charges, and now you forsake me with this mornings adventure.

How hard is after I spend 10euros in phone calls (which by the way WHY should I have to pay extra to call you to get help) with you to try and set my computer to run on the access I should have had anyways, in which you become well acquainted of my UTTER INCOMPETENCE in computer French speak, to inform me that you will be bending me over a barrel the next morning? How hard is it to be tolerant and not rude? How hard is it to understand that I am not DEAF I no speakie puter talk in French thats all? For Putain.fr it is mammoth.

I dont have problems with my ass, living in France has brought me an intimate relationship with its wounds. But I would please like to request that if you are going to hit me up for 70euros of a pounding (for 15 minutes y'all!), for something that is your friggen fault, please use some lube. Tell me that you are going to do it. I can brace myself then, I can make a decision. I can get the vodka, needle, and neosporin out before you get here.

Until then I will be going to your "Boutique" and ripping them a new one. Cause if I have to sew my ass together again- so should you.

With my highest pleasure to inform you...
Aller et Te Faire Foutre,
Tink

Oh and one more for good measure....

Dear SFR,

Normally your tiny little boutique of 3 sq meters doesnt bother me. Normally your French ethics of customer service do not bother me. However you big cow- when you have EIGHT people crammed into the store all waiting in a pretty line, spending FOURTY FIVE minutes to help the dipshit lady decide which ring tone she wants on her phone is NOT the way to make Tink happy. Nor is it to tell her that you can take her kind of plastic cause it doesnt have that stupid chip in it, after the aforementioned fucking 45 minutes.

Please take a class on manners, multi-tasking and fucking get a clue when daggers fly your way.

Bisous,
Tink

(Please note in this instance I do take responsibility for staying the whole 45 minutes- I was stupid. I should have left earlier but once you realize you have been there that long you figure what is another 5 minutes. The lady couldnt have taken that long to choose a ring tone RIGHT? 25 minutes later... I want to shoot myself somedays, and cry too)

2004-09-13T18:38:00.000+02:00

Whose Rights Trump Whose?

In my attempt to avoid working on my submission that should have been sent last week... What do I do? Do I work on the formatting (which is the "dumb shit?"), No. Do I work on trying to compile more of my data (which I really need to insert into chapter 2 and finish that part?), No. I do the serious graduate student thing- I watch the BBC.

So in my effort to obtain a degree of the highest honors in Procrastination- that’s right I am an overachiever, I watched the most astonishing editorial piece. I love the BBC, one because it really is good reporting, two who can beat an accent (have I mentioned how Scottish, English, Aussie and Kiwi accents make my knees go weak?) and since CNN loops the same shit almost all day on the international version the BBC tends to be my background noise. (Remember my irrational fear of silence...)

I had heard of doctors refusing to make referrals to clients who wanted an abortion, as they felt that made them compliant in my action- which is legal (What? What was that you said about God giving man the ability to make individual decisions?). And while I do find that medically irresponsible, that is something easily remedied. I go find me a decent doctor who knows the difference and line between religion and medicine and public and private.

However, it seems in the US Midwest (surprise, surprise) there are pharmacist/pharmacist assistants who are refusing to fill women's medically valid and legal prescriptions for birth control. And the incidence of this is increasing. Women are going to the pharmacy only to have the pharmacist/assistant indicate that they find birth control to be a form of abortion, and because they do not support abortion or birth control their conscious will not permit them to fill the prescription.

My jaw hit the floor, and really I thought most things in the Midwest lost that potential a long time ago. I don’t know if it’s from having been in Europe for a year and half out of the last two years and my new conception of pharmacist (Hi I haven’t been to a doctor but there is gunk in my eye can you give me antibiotics? Thanks! *walks out door with antibiotic eyedrops*). But whatever the reason, I found this appalling. I don’t go to a pharmacy to have the pharmacist judge me or pass judgment. Prescriptions are between me and my doctor (or pharmacist here in Europe- but then again TONS of prescription items in the US are "over the counter" here including birth control- even in the "Catholic" countries).

It makes me want to scream- who do you think you are to pass judgment on me, to deny me my rights? Especially if you are saying it for religious reasons, because it’s not you that should pass judgment on what I do but God and that happens when we met (if I believed in God) not while I am at the pharmacy.

What if like me in my late teens you were put on birth control, not for pregnancy prevention, but to raise my body fat levels so that I wouldn’t have severe bone density issues later in life (ripped little gymnast body had less body fat than most athletic men- therefore I had amenorrhea anyways- is that a form of birth control I should continue- is that a form of abortion...)? There are actually quite a few women on birth control for reasons besides reproductive control. I know many who went on birth control just to get some control over their period. One friend had literally her period for all but 3 days a month for over a year, it was a medical issue.

Am I then ok to pass your judgment. But wait- what the fuck are you doing passing judgment on my medical situation in the first place and secondly doing so without the complete medical situation. You are a pharmacist- your job is to regulate my drug distribution according to the judgment of myself and my doctor- in accordance with the law and regulations established by the government. You want to control my prescription go back to medical school and get your MD. Until then, know what your job is- to give me my valid and legal prescriptions.

I am sorry- if you have a problem with dispensing medication based on ethical or religious reasons, then you need to get a different job. If you don’t want to do that then you have the option of finding someone else service the customer. Until it is illegal you do not have the right to deny anyone their legal and prescribed medication regardless of your personal beliefs. To deny me my medical prescription as a pharmacist is irresponsible and unethical, not to mention selfish.

This trend in the US where you believe that you can invoke religion (or "security," or some other bullshit) to revoke my rights is really climbing up in my ass. Especially when it is done by claiming individual rights- Pot calling kettle, come in kettle come in... I am sorry you do not get to decide whose rights trump whose- for now the government does on earth and if you believe in the afterlife God does so then. Until you become God or the government, take your nose and shove it up your own ass. There is probably more hypocrisy there than you would think.

GRRRRR….This, THIS is exactly why religion has no place in the government, this is why there are checks and balances, this is what freedom is about. Freedom of speech is ensuring that someone can say things which I might find abhorrent. Freedom is fundamentally about the right to question the government and its actions- holding it accountable. Freedom is about respecting the rights of others when they do not match your own.

People really need to start understanding the division between public and private and respect it, otherwise our "freedom" is absolutely worthless.

2004-09-09T14:43:00.000+02:00

Sweet Dreams:

There are parts of life which just seem like a dream the next day, when it has "ended." In this case for me it was an exciting dream? It was a positive one. One of the kinds which reinstalls some of your confidence in parts of you and your life. Things regenerate, you move past internal milestones which previously you had hid from, ones you had constructed to separate you from "life."

Fear of life and its entanglements evaporates along with the irrationally high standards you held above your head. You are you, the way you remember yourself having been; the way you love and missed and attracted people to you like a beacon, but a part that thought you lost, or wasnt real. However, it is not lost and you have reconnected with it for one single second. That second is sublime, and all I want to do is tap into it again. But dreams happen at a moment in time.

When you wake up it seems surreal, like something you didn’t experience, but something that has immense gratification for your soul, and that you are at peace with. But you did experience life and you are still smiling from that dream. It is a dream that you want to return to, relive and to do not different but better, again and again. Just to savor every second that you may not have while caught up in the midst of "life." And even if you cant get it back in those few seconds of light sleep, it still has a delicious taste nonetheless.

Regardless of the frustrations in my life, and they are there; I have to admit that things are going in the right direction for me. One bit of life came together for me during one blessed moment, and I took that moment and lived it for every drop of life it was worth. I soaked all the experience in and smiled. And even though I still feel like it was a dream, it is a dream I am genuinely appreciative for.

So today I am walking a bit on air, through the sunny Parisian streets with a broad smile on my face that not even the draguers could wipe off.

2004-09-07T20:26:00.000+02:00

I Am Such A Geek:

You know it is kind of sad that a simple political comment can make me shoot water out my nose (at my computer). But it can, especially as I am researching.

I was reading a book taking notes this morning and I came across the following 1977 quote. "We are the Party of the Family." What makes that utterly hysterical is that it was uttered by a certain Baroness Margaret Thatcher. Yes, this is from the same woman of ill-repute who told us all that there was "no such thing as society." What is family if it is not an embedded part of society?

Ok, I am not just a Political Science geek, I am an easily entertained one... I need to go find me a self-help group.

2004-09-06T20:21:00.000+02:00

The Ride Down:

Well today is a bit of the slow down, and even though I should have known it was coming, I just wasn’t prepared for it. I mean yes it was tiring, both mentally (I can only change languages so much time before my brain becomes COMPLETE mush), physically (hey being Microphone Girl might sound easy- but it ain't! My knees are not happy with me), and emotionally.

I am not sure how I feel about things; everything is a bit odd for me. The only way I can think of to describe it is that I feel mentally unsettled. In general this conference was wonderful. I think the conferences have been placed just so to be put just so. To well push me along, support me, and confirm what I want to believe.

But today is the down fall. When you spend time- not matter whether or not it is stressing and tiring, with a really good group of people being social (cause I sooo have not been social). Yes I got some information that shifted a few things for me on a personal level, but nothing that affects a "reality" in my life, just my dreams. Even more so I potentially have one of the best up and outs that moves me forward on contingent offer. What the hell more could I possibly want? I don’t know- I can’t identify anything on this "feeling."

I am back to the hermit cave and the lack of interaction, so you can guess I am a bit bummed. The conference for whatever drains it may have posed or the whole we are always together dynamic, was perfect. We may have been together from 8am to 12pm or later... but it was wonderful. Being happy gregarious personable girl, and then switching to hermit without friends, community or social life (yes, yes exaggeration I know), is not a way to make me feel like I am at the top of the ride. I simply don’t think I know how to recreate what these past three days provided me for myself independent of it being created for me by others. I want to catch it like a lightning bug in a jar and keep it (with hole poked in the tin foil so I don’t kill it!)

Structure and a situation where I know what is required of me I know what to do and I know how to do it, a situation where I don’t get to be my vibrant self in the presence of others, where I feel like I am competent (even if it is something stupid like being a good microphone girl) and it is confirmed to me by others- How do I create that around me? How do I make those kinds of interpersonal connections to do that on any kind of a consistent basis?

I felt BUZZED off of not only the academic vibe of the conference, the kindness and fabulous nature of the people there (many of whom are the HEAVY hitters). For three days I had a life, I could pretend like I knew shit, I had people really like me and I got to step out of my shell a bit. More importantly I did step out of it, and I just was whatever is me- without hiding controlling or censoring. I felt HOPE and I felt competent, like I had a contribution to make.

That feeling of competence and value was invaluable. I felt like the "old me." I was a smart ass and people laughed (except for Him Who Stares and Scares- we have already established that he doesn’t get funny). I exuded energy and everyone noticed it, they seemed to want to be around it, reciprocating with being friendly and making sure to get to know me and include me into their grouping. OH DEAR GOD I was part of a group, I belonged somewhere! As much as I like being an individual know that I belong to something is important for me. I was sharp, and for three days had a direction in my life.

I was BUZZED off of life, I was in Paris, I was competent, I was feeling pretty and flirting, I was switching languages and impressing people, I had people telling me I HAD to contact them. I was feeling high as a kite (without inhaling), I felt like hey- these people like me and I am being ME! That really does happen? Seriously I can be me (whatever that is cause I am still not sure anymore) and lots of people will seemingly like ME???

And for a few seconds here and there (like right after a PhD program offer to "pull" my application from a director of graduate students...) I felt like I could do this. And that was a high of the highest highs, it was a cup of the ambrosia of gods, and it was divine. Right now I wish it hadn’t ended. I want to cry (even though I am tired, hey maybe its cause I am tired...) because its over, actually I am tearing up. I want to go to the next conference they are going to next week. I even would be willing to pay through the nose for going to Oxford to be in a similar environment like this weekend has been.

I know you cant recreate everything but this is a great grouping of people and I don’t want it to end. Tough titty I know as it already has- and it cant be recreated as it is a moment in time- one I will always value but nothing can recreate it. I can only take it and start incorporating it into my research and move the train forward, I know- but this is my nostalgia we are talking about here.

I just want to go back (which yes I know I cant and even if I could it wouldn’t be the same anyways). I want to be the girl who danced till almost 3 am like no one was watching (even though I caught Him Who Stares and Scares and Cute Aussie watching), and had other people saying that they wanted to be around me. That they liked me just the way I am.

Shit I hate that Bridget Jones DVD!

2004-09-05T20:15:00.000+02:00

Oh Today Is Great!

I love it when things startle you and the first thing that comes to mind is the most insane. So I got home at 3 AM, but I agreed to go running with Goddess with a potential job, so I am still functioning on low level sleep. What can I say I am a good chunk Spaniards- when I decide to party- I start the party and I shut the sucker down too.

I get up I manage to run with her at her pace which was a good pace for the whole time which was a good deal for my knee. I ignore a few sharp pains here and there, and the little running stabbing man as we go for our third lap of the Gardens.

She tells me again to email her if I am interested. Look lady I like you, I like the idea of working with you as you are a big wig and it would be paid. Trust me if I am willing to go to Scandinavia in the middle of winter- I really want to work with you. The email will be in your box when you get to the office on Monday morning.

So after I get back from running I am sitting down, writing a few of my personal feelings and oddities cause I have lots of them. And they are wreaking with me a bit as the high of the conference is of course inevitably taming down a bit. I dont have that big social life, and I am no longer Microphone girl.

And then I have to laugh. As I am sitting down typing... the poster on my wall falls. It comes off the wall downward towards my direction. So what does my ever so creative and inventive mind in a sleep deprived state think is happening. Well it goes into startle mode saying "OH SHIT THE WALL IS FALLING DOWN."

Yes all I am paranoid, I am ridiculous, and I am laughing at myself. Day cant get worse and I am going to take a Nap! I deserve that too.

2004-09-04T20:03:00.000+02:00

Mornings Are Painful When You Only Have 4 Hours Of Sleep- So Are Days:

I woke up and headed over to the university for the morning stuff. I really cant say more as I am not there. I am tired; I am exhausted linguistically and mentally, not to mention that it is 8 am on a fucking Saturday. I see Him Who Stares and Scares. I am not as Ice Princess as yesterday. I don’t know if I thawed or I was too tired to be bothered. I didn’t avoid him but I wasn’t overly friendly. But he was trying. Maybe he does "like" me, but since I am not in the tiny inside circle of his (of those people he seems to have manners with) or he doesn’t know what to do with me he was trying to make amends.

Anyways I get a wireless mic today to be Microphone girl with. Thank god! I will make it through this conference with out tripping myself and making an ass of myself. OH THANK GOD! Only Marcelle leaves the mic on so I am talking to one of the Swedes from last night about last night expressing amazement that he made it, and well people can hear. Him Who Stares and Scares comes over and says "The Mic is on; turn it off so when he says something nice to you, everyone doesn’t know." Great. At least it is better phrased than normal, though he gives a weird wink. Stop thinking like that you dirty little quirky French perv!

I go through the morning, I thaw as I go. Mostly I think because so many good things have happened because of him getting me into this conference so in all honesty... I don’t think that I can remain THAT pissed. Its not me and its not healthy. But he is still on the shit list. Just not the Ace of Spades anymore.

During lunch I walk and talk with another grad student and then afterwards and I get cornered by the Norwegian asking me now how is it you know how to speak Norwegian and about römmegrot and fisekeboller? So I have to explain one of my stories that is on repeat (What program are you in? What is your research on? How do you know about Scandinavia? Are just a few of them) and he thinks it’s great. One more person at Oxford who smiles at me all the time. I am liking this.

So I manage to stumble my way through most of the day. Him Who Stares and Scares only shouts at me once. Thanks Him Who Stares and Scares! I have some good discussions with people. They are all offering to do things to help me. I am amazed that they would want me and at their generosity. I honestly don’t know what to do with it. Do I deserve this? I then do some nice things (hey you are interested in this? this person did this, which is different but you might be able to use his model to get that result and see... vague but the details would bore you unless you want to talk about taxation modeling).

I decided life must have been throwing me a burst of fate so I was going to ride it. GODDESS who said last night she wanted to hire me for helping with a certain part of the research, well the week before I got an email about grants to go to the locations of that database (one is in DUBLIN- hell yeah) and so I printed it out for her saying look even if you don’t get the money this could be an option for your project.

She again reiterates that she wants me to contact her because if I am really interested she wants me to work with her. UMMM YEAH I am interested. I am so interested I would consider moving back to SCANDINAVIA, in the freaking winter. Have I told you how me and Scandinavian winters get along- the Norwegian phrase for it is Ikke So Migge, not so much!

At the end of the day Him Who Stares and Scares thanks all of his team- and of course introduces me as the Microphone Girl. What do you do with him? So I go out at the end of the day with one of the other presenters who wont be going to dinner, we talk a bit about graduate school and she tells me to keep in touch with her.

These conferences really are lined up just at the time you need them with the kind of people you need to get the support you need. I don’t think it could have been at a more perfect time for me. I just wish the next conference wasn’t a year away the next one cause I would love to present my research here, after getting out of the hospital for having a heart attack.

Then we all head out to dinner/party. Dinner was a bit on the small side. I start to crash hard. I sit next to a really nice French guy who I am going to keep in touch with he works for French institutions here and he is a local connect. Gotta figure out how to stay here if other things don’t work out- and make friends if nothing else.

Plus he knows Him Who Stares and Scares pretty well as they took classes together. He confirms some of my things saying that is not a me thing that is a him thing. I say a few things I probably shouldn’t but my French is so shitty at this point as I am technically brain dead, and he doesn’t always understand my English so I think I am ok. If it gets back I know where it came from.

So I am eating dinner talking with Mr. Big Wig Two who really likes me and keeps putting his arm around me. He is funny he is sweet, he is great. Him Who Stares and Scares says there is music and champagne downstairs. He tries to get people to go down. I think he wants to leave me out of it, but Big Wig Two puts his arm around and says come with me and get some champagne. So I listen to those two talk, I get us champagne and I go to wander.

Him Who Stares and Scares I think is trying to stay away from me because it turns out he has a "girlfriend" (who was at the conference and is in quotes as a result of part of the gossip- not going there as it is a bit weird for me now) and I don’t think she is happy. He is trying to be with her some, trying to "love" on her so she will stop frumping so much, to convince her of things. It freaks me out as it reminds me of the ending I had with NASTY ex. I don’t know if I think they are a good match and you can guess I have other thoughts about Him Who Stares and Scares.

But he is drinking a lot and well we all start dancing. I go dance with Big Wig Two who is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. He is my favorite kind of male dancer. Music is in my blood I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t like music to dance too. But I don’t think you have to have rhythm or be good. And the people who say I am going to have fun even if I make an ass out of myself are GOLD. Big Wig Two is PLATINUM! It was great. He is a hideous dancer but he puts himself out there and flails like not other and I am soooooo enamored with that I was all about dancing with him for that song. ALL ABOUT IT.

And before Goddess with a Job leaves she asks me about running in the Luxembourg Gardens. I said yes you can do that I live right by there and this is my running path. She asks me if I want to go running at 8 am. UMMMM Yeah (like I needed to think about that and trying to strengthen the bond)!!!!!! Oh fuck another early morning after another late night, and running. I haven’t run in eons... God my body is going to LOVE me for this.

Now I proceed alternating trips outside for air and dancing with everyone but Him Who Stares and Scares- which is kind of sad because he actually can dance really good (I would have NEVER guessed it). He is trying to avoid me I thinh, he seems scared everytime he dances near me. I stopped paying attention after a while, he is too high-maintenance. I want my Calvados and I want to have fun, leave the rest of it out of it.

I had a great time. I let my hair down I danced like no one was watch when they play salsa and make you wish you could dance with me. Cause everyone else wanted to dance with me. I saw him at least twice looking over at me like he wanted to and then when he saw that I saw him, grabbing some other girl to dance with. If I didn’t know better I would say he was in high-school not his mid thirties.

At the end of the night I really am thinking how many times do you get to see your advisor DRUNK? I mean REALLY DRUNK too. I mean seriously trashed and drinking it down I would be he had at least a bottle of wine with dinner, a bottle of champagne downstairs, and then started in on some Calvados. He was DRINKING.

He spends most of the night alternating between watching me and trying to avoid me. He really is an odd duck. Not a bad one but an odd one. And at the end of the night I am like ok fuck off Him Who Stares and Scares. Besides which I then find out some info and gossip and it makes me feel all funny- for reasons I can’t describe or identify.

Forget his games, I am going to flirt with and dance provocatively by myself and with the REALLY HOT Aussie who was flirting back. I got to slow dance with him- we were transported back to middle school with a really bad Guns and Roses knock off song. Even Axel would have hurt over this song.

Then I get the real shock of my conference life, Him Who Stares and Scares comes to say good by to me and after saying I will read your submission soon (the one from 3 weeks ago... uh huh) I tell him to expect more writing soon. But here is where I just about flip the fuck out. He makes a serious point of cornering me and gives me the BISES. Holy shit? He has NEVER done that. WOW, I am shocked I don’t know what to make of it, especially as the "girlfriend" is there and I am creeped. He has totally gotten his revenge and totally fucked with me on that one. I don’t know what to do with him at all.

My life is so bizarre some times I couldn’t make it up if I tried.

2004-09-03T19:57:00.000+02:00

Go To Bed Pissed, Wake Up Pissier:

I did not sleep well. I honestly try not to go to bed mad because it doesn’t dissipate; I wake up with my anger and thoughts (like all those thing I REALLY would want to tell him off with) on constant loop that runs through my brain. Which means I am just as if not or more fury red livid than last night. My wrath is still there festering in the morning; this is not how I should be starting my day off.

I get up and over to the conference I get up to my spot in the front I am talking with the girl next to me. I have decided to make it EXPLICITLY clear that I am DONE with his scrawny French cul. I had smiled at him yesterday, like I had smiled at other people too- my happy scrunchy face smile. It melts people. I had been friendly, because he had done a nice thing letting me access this conference, I was happy and I am friendly like that.

Not to him, not this morning. I wasn’t going to talk with him if I could at all avoid it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to smile at him and I was going to make it facially clear. Oh yes even Captain Oblivious would get that I was NOT happy with him. Rude boy meet Rude girl oops make that RUDE FEMINIST BITCH.

So Him Who Stares and Scares comes in and I am taking a sip of my water. He starts talking to me in French general good morning, how are you etc greetings. Normally starting in French would get him brownie points. This morning my response was a head nod with a look away. He manages to catch my glance again by accident a few minutes later. Cava?? Bitchiest Oui I have mustered in a long time exits my lips. He seems really confused; he doesn’t know what is up with this. I can see on the teleprompter over his head he is asking: is she really mad, or is it something else? Yeah dumb fuck go figure it out. Every time for the rest of the day if I catch him looking at me while I am smiling, I turn that frown right upside down. You get what you ask for, and boy did he ask for it.

He spent the rest of the morning really tip-toeing around me! I think at one point he got the "oh she is PISSED with me," message. At lunch I met with another big wig who really seemed interested in me and since she researches EXACTLY what I do (i.e. she is cited like all hell). I take her comments on board and am grateful for her friendliness and kind words. I run around, I help more people because they seem to think I know everything (I should win an Oscar for my acting abilities).

Now I am still “Microphone Girl” which means I have to try and remember all the rapid fire things that run through my mind as people are asking or answering questions- because some of these actually relate to my research. At one point I was close to my paper again (and actually I was ok) so I went to write one non-essential note. All of a sudden Him Who Stares and Scares turns around and says "You sit down- Marie (in French- listen you twat choose a language and stick with it) this is related to her research you please run the microphone." Nice intention, but again this whole commanding tone, it never goes over well with me. I am the Alpha Bitch I do not take orders.

I finish, I make some comments to one of the authors from lunch who in turn asks me to send her an email cause I am articulate about what I am bringing up and she wants to incorporate it but is afraid she is going to miss it as she is tired. Even better if I do that she will comment on my research for me. Oh boy!

I catch Him Who Stares and Scares looking at me afterwards like he was concerned. Because yes I am still pissed at you, go sit and spin on it. I went and sat with the Spaniards at a café and completely mindfucked myself for the rest of the night. Hi I am a Polyglot and I don’t speak any language anymore. Anyways after a drink- which always helps the mindfuck and language abilities, we head to the dinner. I intentionally avoid Him Who Stares and Scares and when I cant I politely ignore him while we are out on the patio. I talk with Marcelle, the most AWESOME lady who just CRACKS my shit up with her stories.

I meet a grad student at a program I am interested in applying to in the states. She takes me over to her advisor who I barely know but is the TOP person in the field tells her I am interested in going to their university. OH... she says. But we have just been called in so we go into dinner and I end up sitting next to her. I have this oh-mi-god; I am sitting next to Ms. Queen of all I do... inhale I remind myself again.

It was great. I was at a table with two of the main four people who are my GODDESSES on my research. And they are suggesting maybe I should think about this or that. They are interested in what I am saying. They are amazing. But they do make one suggestion that kind of spins me a bit. They suggest maybe I should consider shifting disciplines from Poli-Sci to Soc. Um oh shit, that really flips my world upside down. I see these two who are extremely political science smart, so it could be ok, but I have always been Poli-Sci girl... I don’t know much about Soc. This research I want to continue on with is also split and close to both I think but whoa new thought is overwhelming me. I listen and they give me some good advice and are kind and I take it in.

Then one of the authors of a research project I cite like crazy starts hitting me up and making a pitch for his program. Being that he is the Director of Graduate Students and his wife is going to be the Chair of the Department beginning next year… I listen, I talk a lot (but his wife is like me so he can handle that) but I really try to listen A LOT. He then makes the offer that if I want to apply I am to let him know. He says he wants me to apply, he wants me to go there- he likes my energy, he likes that I grilled him, he likes my smart ass sense of humor and he thinks that I would be a good fit and they would like to have me working on their project (all of this cause I gave them data on what they wanted… being nice it does get you lots of places).

Whoa Nelly, you met me today effectively and you got all this and are willing to do all that. HOLY SHIT. So he tells when I apply he will walk my application through the steps. Um Rodger I have a PhD program back up... The whole shifting Disciplines still kind of freaks me out but I have something kinda guaranteed... WOW

It’s getting close to time to leave, and Him Who Stares and Scares comes over and talks to me in French. I think he has figured out that if he talks to me in French I am less bitchy, and is very gentle and nice. Tip-toe around the PMS-y woman I bet he is thinking.

We head out and I go to help one of the women who gets lost all the time. Interestingly enough she is working with one of the 3 main people that are my GODDESSES, and they are walking together so she knows how to get there. I say I am walking the same way they say join us. Now Goddess is a bit tipsy but I am not saying anything I walking and Goddess asks me about my research.

I tell her, she asks about what data I am trying to use. I tell her. She says she needs someone that is an expert in that. I try to tell her I am not an expert in it, I am using sanitized data, I do not know how to use the raw data. She says if she had money she would hire me immediately as I am efficient. (Um how do these people know this about me when I all I do is point to things and walk around with a microphone?) She says she is waiting to hear on a grant and if she gets it she wants to talk with me about coming to work for her.

At this point I am getting woozy with all this. HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT. Then we run into a group of about another ten people from the conference. It isn’t hard they are all staying in the same location and all are wandering around lost. I am it seems the tour guide. So my favorite Swede is in the group and him and one of my favorite Finns say they want to go out. Now I should have known better to say yes when the Swedes and the Finns say take me to a bar. I have lived in Scandinavia, I should have known better! But I took them (all 14 people) anyways.

At the bar my favorite Swede starts pushing a bit on what is it I am doing, where do I want to apply. He is not only political royalty in Sweden, but also the director of a PhD program/institute in Sweden and he tells me things like… well you would need to do this for our program. HOLY FUCK third person that is hitting on me TONIGHT, academically that is. Then he drinks a bunch and I get to gather all sorts of good and funny stories.

And when I get home I finally see the time... It is 3 fucking AM. Oh yes tomorrow is going to be a good day.

2004-09-02T19:48:00.000+02:00

Up And At Em:

Nervous or not here I come and at the conference just when Him Who Stares and Scares asked me to be. As you might guess, well before he made his appearance. So I got there met the other people and started to take control. If you aren’t there to tell me what to do I will decide for myself. I am part terrier. So I registered people, I directed them around and I acted impeccably. So good people really thought I not only knew things but that I really was a part of the organization team. No I was the person that showed up that was it.

Anyways Him Who Stares and Scares is in the building, let the hemorrhaging commence. I only spoke to him in English while talking to other people in French in front of him. He was not sure what to do nor what language to talk in. I am taking pleasure out of shaking him a bit. I figure if he is going to be an ass, then I might as well fuck with his mind. He did decide to speak to me and the other girl I was with in French though- ahhhh you do recognize I can comprehend French- even with your lisp...

Jon comes to register. Jon is the friendliest Dane you could imagine, and he is entertaining as all hell! You should see him present about family and child policies with his stick people and the Bus. Ok you had to be there and be a geek like me to probably laugh as much as I did. At this stage he is the only registrant I know. So I was looking forward to seeing a friendly face.

Jon sees me across the reception area of the conference and beelines over bises with Him Who Stares and Scares that was at the table being all Mr. Commander and all and immediately after that turns around (with Him Who Stares and Scares wondering what is he doing) says HEI, HEI!! tossing himself halfway across the table to bise with me (much to the surprise of Him Who Stares and Scares cause I am not supposed to bise you know) After that Him Who Stares and Scares runs off. Whatev DUDE, I give! There is no way to figure out quirky Frenchmen.

Anyways I went upstairs to the auditorium, and smiled. I don’t know any of you except for a few names cause I got your registration information or have cited your articles... Mingle, mingle I am not an intruder... Hey here comes some tall blonde guy walking in a beeline over to me and says "Hey I know you!" Now I barely met him, hell I barely remembered him. But if you think you know me- sure you do, I need friends.

I must have made some kind of impression and Joakim remembered me, and wanted to say something to me. Yes I love me my Swedes, even better I love my political royalty Swedes :) It was great and I don’t feel as alone anymore, I am an honorary member of the Scandinavian Mafia. But since I didn’t know others I decided to go sit in the front of the room by the other "dream team members." (That is what Him Who Stares and Scares named us- in his great appropriation of English, come on how can you not laugh?)

So people are presenting the critical analyses of the research, I am taking notes and they are about to open the phone to questions. And you can maybe see where I am going to go with this... next thing I know Him who Stares and Scares turns around and says to me "You go be Microphone girl." Nope not making that up, entertaining ain't he??

I don’t know why I put up with his superiority demanding attitude without any manners, but we are going to leave that to the side. The best part of this is that my adviser is in a room that has 4 of the top feminist scholars in the field, and knows that I am researching issues that are feminine focused. I am not much younger than him... You would think he would know better than to call me "Microphone GIRL."

We went back up after lunch and I am Microphone girl, YIPPEE. After the session which is getting a bit draining because in addition to trying to pay attention in terms of the whole academic sense as microphone girl my duties mean I have to take a microphone to where ever the person with a question is. This is a corded one so I am constrained by the fear which says- DO NOT TRIP AND FALL FLAT ON YOUR FAC E IN FRONT OF THESE IMPORTANT PEOPLE! That is not the way to make a memorable impression- well at least not the one I had in mind. But the other half is that once I get to you if there is no empty seat by you I have to squat. You can guess how much my fucked up knees love me for it...

Afterwards we are meeting to take a Batobus- (boat bus) to tonight’s social event. The Mairie de Paris- otherwise known as Hôtel de Ville. We go through the building- which does not provide public access (I am pissed as my camera is acting up. Bugger!). And after a very long speech it is Champagne time! Free high quality liquor is great.

I mingle trying to talk to new people and be all personable. After a bit of wandering and avoidance moves and a bit of being ignored and toasted and complimented by Him Who Stares and Scares (cause he is bipolar like that it seems) I get pushed back towards my Scando’s, and introduced to the new ones.
It is getting time to head out- after 4 flutes of champagne of course. And as we are leaving I remember I should extend Hello’s from a mutual friend I was emailing with. He looks all surprised and asks me "you know him?" Ummmm yes I met him through YOU. Really there isn’t enough blood for both of men’s heads (regardless of size) is there? I say yes I kept in touch after then by email. I was recently emailing with him about visiting him in Stockholm in October and he told me to say hi for him. Him Who Stares and Scares was completely weirded out by this exchange and awkwardly shutters off.

After looking out at the rain and crying cause I am not up for it. I was invited we get out of the building wait a bit to let some of the rain let up and my aortic artery was then burst by Him Who Stares and Scares. We get to the Metro area- he looks at me and says "We are going out for a drink- see you tomorrow." And then waves at me. Toodles. I am shocked, my Favorite Swede looks at me like I am so SORRY... and at the same time thinking in my head- Oh NO He Diuhn’t (with my best white girl finger shake). I turn down to the Metro before the fury shows up in my red face and diabolical horns.

Ok if we have not addressed this topic before Him who Stares and Scares has ZERO interpersonal skills. Zilch, zip, rien, niente, nada! Now I don’t think he is intentionally rude. I don’t even think that he realizes that he is being a rude ass. Some things just seem to not be on his radar, and it seems quite often that I in general am not unless my tata’s are on display. I am not sure how he would respond if he was called on it, but I was shocked and LIVID.

By the time I got home I was even angrier, if that is possible, and I stewed. I was LIVID. Can I please make those letters bigger? Cause it doesn’t even begin to express my wrath. You know buddy- my ass does not have room for both of your fists up it with twisting pinecones. I don’t care about his blunt nature I actually appreciate it (and maybe that is why I often let things go, that or I need him to make comments so I cant afford to tell him to fuck off yet), but Christ on a Stick! You do NOT have to be rude when being blunt, and yes there is a difference between the two. But no Him Who Stares and Scares couldn’t do THAT now could he?? Would mean I wouldn’t have these stories to write.

So I go to bed irate, furious, fuming, enraged and incensed. I decided that if he wants to pull this shit, I am fed up and I want nothing to do with it anymore. You made it PERFECTLY clear. I may be oblivious to most things, and for long periods of time. but I completely get it now. Loud and Clear Roger. Perfunctory me is what you get from here on in then. I am so done. Over and OUT.

And then my evening got grumpier as at 3:49 am I wake up with my first Charlie Horse EVER. I know I am odd. HOLY SHIT, that woke me right then and there. I unpoint my toes, I try flexing my heel, and I try rubbing the calf a bit. It is all sending blinding splitting pains into my leg and my still half asleep consciousness, which is increasingly becoming more awake. Neurons are most certainly connected. I am desperate to make it stop so I try banging on my calf cause FUCK it hurts. And finally a few minutes later it stops but now I am kind of awake, vision changing pains tend to do that so I look at CNN. I should have known better.

I am Murphy’s best bitch because it was JUST as Bush was starting his acceptance speech for the RNC. I don’t want to see this. I am now going to be gnashing my teeth for the rest of the night. And I am serious that there is not enough room for me to much angrier and control my homicidal tendencies. I some how get to bed at about 4:55 am thank god. It has to get better please, let it get better.

2004-09-01T09:45:00.000+02:00

WHAT?

Ok so I woke up this morning to check my email and see the new Gap ad in my inbox. Ok whatever that didnt make me go Hmmmmm. I even clicked cause I am a dork and wanted to see the new spokesperson- Sarah Jessica Parker. Now this is where it got weird. There was this mix and match feature on how Sarah Jessica Parker liked to sport the Gap gear.

So you ask what is so weird about that? You used to be in marketing why would you find this odd. Well here is why: she does it mostly in Gap clothes but then does this crazy thing. She accessorizes. Ok so I am accessory impaired, but why would that be a big deal? Cause she is doing it with freaking FRED LEIGHTON jewlery or MANOLO BLAHNICK shoes!

I know I am going out on a limb here, but my guess is that most of the customers of the Gap dont have the fiscal capacity to afford those kinds of accessories. I dream of the day I have enough money to bitchslap my financially responsible and practical self into a coma and buy myself a pair- regardless of the fact that they cost me more than my rent for a month. Really I do. But I buy Gap Jeans etc cause (especially in the states) it is relatively cheap. It is NOT in the same league as Fred Leighton or Manolo Blahnick. And for right now I am ok with that. And I know that rich people might like the offerings at the Gap too. And that is all good, cause I am sure no matter how rich I get I will probably be a bit of a penny pincher. But seriously Gap ought to cater to their real clientel and not get pretentious ideas. Leave that to the rich version of the Gap- Banana Republic.

And seriously stop trying to be THAT hip with the "mix it up SJP style" tag line crap. You sound like you are trying to get yo' ass outta da hood.

2004-08-31T20:41:00.000+02:00

White Lines:

Ok you know what I thought that the Republican Convention could not get more out of control insane with its lack of reality. I mean it has such a lack of touch that well I call it the party of 4 senses. I was WRONG.

I made the very BAD decision to watch some of it (thank god only on French television) but Rudy Guiliani went so far beyond his boundaries. Now I have never really been fond of the man, but in his speech which left me speechless, he tried to compare Bush to WINSTON CHURCHILL. Seriously that sucked all the oxygen out of my body in one swoop.

Ok lets for fun dissect that comparison. On one hand we have a non-elected idiot who “started” the war with Iraq and pissed off about 80% of the US’ traditional allies, and cant utter two words in a string in his mother tongue. On the other hand there is a diplomatic statesman who had at least a modicum of respect from the rest of the world, and could by many means be eloquent beyond words.

Sorry Rudy. There is NO comparison. None whatsoever; but there is a comparative need for you to retake your world history course. You'd think that legal training would enable him to make an accurate comparison. You would be wrong. And sorry but if you think that comparison is adequate you too are playing follow the White Line along with George. (And just for Jeff since he didnt get my metaphor- that means you are snorting Cocaine)

I was thinking I would move back to my other flat that is empty now a night early, but after seeing that and knowing I would have CNN/BBC access and want to watch it like a train wreck working myself up into such a fury that I would make a tempest look lame. I decided I will stay at my kick ass artist atelier and read for the conference that I have on Thursday which holy hell how did that end up being the day after tomorrow- I am not done with reading those 60 papers.

That is to say nothing of my poor thesis is serious need of respiration. I have died in the process. That whole cyclical thing has caught up with me. I worked I created some quality, and now I am in the gutter. I have this thing about life, I REALLY want to be happy medium but I am a "balls to the walls" or "dead in water" kind of girl at my core right now. If anyone knows where the whole moderate pace can be found please let me know. Otherwise, I am hoping the regeneration phase of the cycle speeds it's derriere up too. Maybe the shift will shift me up, maybe I will get those good patterns going, maybe I wont throw myself in the Seine because of computer problems at the EXACT same time as a draft is due (THANK YOU Mark for pulling me out of complete terror induced panic into mild annoyance, more debt and fear).

MAYBE.

2004-08-28T13:46:00.000+02:00

So This Was A Big Surprise:

Ok so it is no big surprise that I am not a fan of the current administration. I have as much love for them as I did for Newtie and the Blowhards, actually to be honest I love Newtie and the Blowhards more. Yes, hat sentence scares, nay terrifies me, immensely.

So when Mac posted about this I thought, hmmm..... I know that besides when the convention is going to be there that not too many Republicans are living in NYC but......

So this is the thing that annoys me from abroad, Bush has framed the terms of this election in such a way that is favorable to him. And if its contrary to him well that is just waffling, bullshit or unpatriotic. I am so tired of the attacks on my character that man makes because I think contrary to him, I have read the constitution or that I understand simple concepts like seperation of church and state or even basic seperation of powers and the functions of the institutions. His brand of American is what embarasses me to have been born in that country.

It crushes me that anytime a Democrat stands up to Bush he throws up smokes and mirrors, makes heinous personal attacks, and emerges without the average American smelling the shitkickers he used to knock out their front teeth. A prime example when his administration went after the Georgian congressman, who is a Vietnam Veteran and voted against the Patriot Act. He gave three limbs up for this country to ensure the rights of its citizens and wasnt interested in voting for legislation that would nullify or restrict those rights. *GASP* He is against us, in his Freudian dreams he wants terrorists to attack the US. And out come the personal attacks, from the twat who didnt defend this country no less.

I really wish that spin doctors could get out there and say the real things. (I will cop here to the miniscule possibility that they could be doing so, but from what I have gathered that isnt reality) And after his latest fiasco with the Olympics I would pay to hear someone take him to task for it.

Not only for the ethical issues of using an international organization, or an Iraqi team for his campaign in such a blatant and appalling manner. The only people who have the right to use Iraqi Olympic team achievements in a commercial is the Iraqi government. And they are too busy trying to do things that the Americans didnt cover after the war- like provide water and electricity. Seriously, it's like Bush thinks he has a right to appropriate everything for himself. Next thing you know he'll say that the flag represents the freckles on his ass. Really though I want to see someone take him to task for loosing the Olympics for NYC. I want it to be in the news, and I want some fucking accountability. If you want to use that word to define yourself you have to apply it to yourself in the evaluations buddy!

NYC, which is a 9-11 devestated town that is still on shaky economic recovery foundations. So how much money is that which the NYC economy will never see? Athens is getting a serious inflow that will have post-Olympic spillovers that have given a significant boost to the local economy already. And while it is arguable if NYC would have won the bid anyways, I am talking about culpability for removing economic potential. Bush wants to talk about economic potential of his tax cuts and other bullshit policies- I want to talk about reduction of economic potential due to his actions.

All that for a cocky ad from Bush. That is patriotism for you, way to bring home the Gold George!

2004-08-25T15:38:00.000+02:00

Flipping Around The Smackdown:

I am liberated (well Paris is and there are all sorts of events going on about it but I am so not wearing period clothes in the rain, and the weather fairy has gotten her calendar all screwed up lately) and so I am probably going to be sporadic here for a while.

I have been beeing a good worker bee lately and am currently working my way up the hierarchy to become the queen bee of Anti-Social Divas, but I have about one third of my work "done." That is of course until it gets hacked to bits by an advisor. But its something and I need to keep trying to ride the wave.

Which brings me to the title of today, or rather yesterday. Flipping around the smackdown. So it is well established that there is some push and pull going on between me and my quirky French advisor. In general I think he is a good guy and he is really smart too when I can corner him, but man he can crawl under my skin and pluck my nerves better than any harpist you can imagine. Also I think he doesnt know what to do with me as when he flips me shit I send it right back; sarcasm does not always translate either.

So I sent an email yesterday requesting a 24 hour delay on the non-existent deadline (please for all the Smurf-iness in the Smurfdom Gargamel give.me.one! I work way better with them- even if I dont always meet them) and again say "hi I'd like to plan my life and dont mind helping you so please let me know umm... well when."

I got a response email saying OK to the "extension" and some text in need of spell check about registering me for the conferences social events. I figured he meant to attend but I was in a pissy mood- researching female employment rates (when I am not included in them) seems to do that to me. So I get two other emails from him. One nice, one all about the smack down.

He was very nice and I got my first !ExclamationPoint! out of him. The registration was "So that you can attend!" Aww I guess drinking with him last time didnt scare him too bad. Well I wont know that for sure till the cocktail reception at Hôtel de Ville next Thursday, Or dinner Friday, or the closing party on Saturday. But I will have a social life next weekend that is for sure, and it will be free.

And then he had to go and ruin it all. I get an email saying hey you are from XYZ (insert reference to city of my university in the states) right? I know it means he is listing me somewhere, or something like that but I was pissy. Its not hard to remember as he knows my advisor and knows what university he is at. 1+1=...

So I sent my response: OK listen here bitch... if you can pay enough attention to my chest to know what bra size I wear then by the love of Smurfette... you CAN remember the university I attend. Ok so I didnt say that. What I said all smartsassy in a way that probably went over his head: "From is a big question. But if you want a simple university listing then you can say XYZ or ABC (french university) as you wish I am registered under both."

I guess I have to give him some credit as he is now spelling my name right and he tries? I mean I just fell off my chair at his latest "English" email. But still. So I got the oddest response from him. He sent an email saying OK. That was it, no name, no Yours, "Him Who Stares and Scares" typical sign off. Just OK. I couldnt help but laugh and then hope I hadnt stamped on his little fragile man ego too much or something stupid like that, cause I have to send him my fire tinder (the new loving name for my dissertation) today.

Oh and yes if you didnt guess it, the Smurfs were on TV this morning, only they were in French and called the Schtroumpfs, yeah I spelt it right, go ahead google it.

2004-08-20T17:56:00.000+02:00

Les Jeux Olympiques- Une Expérience:
Ok the Olympics have done it, they have gone too far. It was frightening enough to "watch" the badminton gold medal match yesterday (it plays in the background for noise- I need the noise to stay focused, have I mentioned my irrational fear of silence?) between the Dutch and Chinese.

Really since when is badminton an Olympic quality sport? I am sure the competitors think it is, along with the 10 people in the stands who paid to see it (WTF). They probably train hard too, but honestly to me it is hitting a piece of fluffy plastic around. And that well is not the Olympics that I know. Give me joint pounding gymnastics, even the "soft" rhythmic kind; show me a pool and I will want to jump in myself and speed my Papillion ass down the lane.

Show me a badminton game and I keep saying WTF?? I thought I had seen every random sport they had to televise here in France. I was just waiting to see if they had a speed knitting event or something (I think that will be in the winter Olympics). I was wrong, ever so WRONG. This morning took the cake! I saw the Men's 20km Race Walking final. Yes read that sentence again.

I saw the Men's 20km Race Walking final.

Ok you know the grannies that you see in the huge American malls getting their pump on... take that visual and imagine that going on at the Olympics, with anorexic looking men through the streets of Athens. That place has to seem like a freaking theme park right about now, the kayak/canoe course already reminds me of a Water Park. Even better imagine watching a PACK of them, and by pack I mean about 40, race walking in time together along the course.

Repeat after me: sashay, sashay, sashay- sashay- sashay.

That totally cracked my shit up. And after disaggregating and calculating riveting data on female atypical employment and knowing I have to go in search of more data to repeat that procedure with (seriously why can’t you make the simple statistics, simple to find- I don’t need to wade through all this complex shit. I like the word SIMPLE) I sooooo needed to crack my lower bowels out.

I know every country and athlete has to have their competition and medal but seriously- race walking? That is getting a bit out of control. I know I am potentially offending some race walking fans, but I will take the risk. And you know, the fact that the French televise it starting to scare me.

Seriously... no Frenchie was in the top 5 so it wasn’t one of those mandatory televising events. Please bring back the banshee shrieking fencing freaks or the kayak/canoe people- the doubles in that is interesting just to see them go backwards, or can we watch the funny French swimming commentator as he live translates the interviews with the Dutch hottie (Pieter van den Hoogenbrand) and other non frenchies (which I have to say Ian Thorpe freaked the hell out of him responding in some seriously hacked French- but it is all about the effort)?

No it seems we cannot. I will also take another risk as I just saw team ping-pong (China v. Korea) on the Olympics and say that there is no way mother-freaking PING-PONG belongs in the Olympics. And there is sooo not enough room around that tiny table (smaller than a dinner table) for two people. I mean it is entertaining, but in a sad way. I am also taking it as my cue to head into the lab cause this, this is too much.

2004-08-19T16:26:00.000+02:00

Call Me Noah:

And send wood for the Arc, or as a friend said cement. I guess the new stuff MIT came up with is more air than rock and floats to make for some bendy lightweight boats. See what kind of new materials Noah gets?

Today makes two days in a row I have gotten trapped in the rain. I get all active and productive on my research and then when its time to go in to the lab for internet- the skies open up. And they dont just mist, they torrentially down pour. I havent been in anything like this since Monsoon season in Arizona.

Seriously, Paris is not designed for that much rain, let alone in a short period. There is not true drainage system, there are all sorts of concave portions of the roads and the splashing that the cars do, actually forget the cars- the Buses... WHOA NELLY. No need for Paris Plage with these kinds of pools.

Yesterday I sported the über sexy, complete drenched rat look for hours. I was the height of Parisian fashion I will have you know. I call it wet and ready; the new prêt à porter. I was trapped for 30 minutes under a brasserie's awning. One that thankfully was still on the conges annuels. After which it "lightened up" enough that me and my hooded sweatshirt ran the rest of the way (a good 10 minutes) darting in and out trying to dodge the droplets.

Lady with the umbrella get out of the running banshee's way or let her under the umbrella, I wanted to shout. Instead I splashed through the street and went around her. Once I got to St. Germain des Près it was pointles, I was soaked. Why fight it anymore? I took the flip flops off and I ran through the streets in the down pour, slpashing and kicking the watter around. I even giggled. Letting it loose and giving up the ghost has such a divine effect on giggling. I also made the reception guy laugh when I came into the building too.

And today was a bit of a repeat. I wasnt as stubborn as yesterday (I ended up in the rain because I thought I had enough time to walk it and miss the rain, I most obviously did NOT have enough time), I took the Metro. Didn't matter though as soon as I got out- it was dripping again. There were no gale winds and the drops were tinier so I braved the Parisian clouds and grey, and I ran from the Metro to the lab. This time not as drenched, but still making the receptionist guy and some cute guy on the street who was hiding in a small over hang laugh, and me too- what else am I going to do?

Paris, c'est très jolie en été- Non?

2004-08-17T16:58:00.000+02:00

500 Words:
(yesterdays post for today due to lack of intellect yesterday)
Little bit by little bit I will chip my way to the Davide. I can’t keep looking at the whole big picture of things. It is making me insane, it is exacerbating everything else in my life, and it is NOT helping me on any level. For right now I need to find something to focus myself on or I am going to drive myself past desperation.

Anyways it is the small battles that make the war so I am going to stop freaking my ass out with the enormity of life. I choose instead to pay attention to the details that are important. And for right now that is twofold. I am going to look up and apply away for internships etc and jobs (both in the States and Europe), I am going to get my grandfather’s birth certificate, and I am going to stay focused on my research. That is my primary concern right now, to tackle the easier parts, bit by bit, that are the foundation of my research anyways. Most importantly- not expect myself to do all of it in 5 minutes.

I will outline things for one chunk of this dissertation and then start to try and take what I have and know and put it together, concisely and being restrained about it. And by doing that, I realized today with my little calculator, that if I can manage to produce 500 quality words of writing per day by the next deadline I should have something that I can turn in and feel comfortable with. It is something that seems achievable and not overbearing. Actually it sounds like so little, I can write 500 words about picking up my dogs shit right? Well the key is quality not disjointed stream of consciousness babbling.

And you know what I managed to get the 500 together today, with two pretty charts and I am feeling happy with myself. I headed to the library and picked up all the books I might be interested in. I even got to stay late at the computer lab- woo hoo for wasting time on the internet. And best of all I met a great guy from Harvard who offered to read over my applications and give me tips on them. WOOT!

I will take everything I can get. It didn’t rain on me on the walk home, I made pasta with truffle sauce, my tummy looked flat, and I got to watch the J.O. Men's Gymnastics (team competition). The evening could have been worse :)

Watching the men’s competition though I must say was a bit on the odd side. Having been a competitive gymnast I grew up around it, and if I watched competitions I watched it in English. Two things came across immediately; first, it is much better having previous gymnasts commentate on the competition than the random French guys I had last night. I miss Bart and Nadia. Plus they aren’t nearly as excited about the commentating as the French commentators for Judo or Fencing. Not so many Oh-la-la-la’s either. Second was that like other sports they direct translate the names of apparatus, and it sounds funny.

2004-08-16T18:08:00.000+02:00

Dizzy Galore:

So I forgot to save my delayed posts to enter so you get a meme instead. Nicked from Mac can be found here to do yourself. You are supposed to strike through the text, but I dont knoz how to do that on Blogger so I italicized the stuff that isnt me, not as much to knock out as I expected...

June:
Thinks far with vision (at least not right now- I can barely think past today).
Easily influenced by kindness (quite easily- its not so easily found, particularly not the sincere forms of it).
Polite (Id like to think so) and soft-spoken (ha haaa haaaaaaa).
Having lots of ideas (says nothing about quality- check).
Sensitive (well kind of- once you crack the crab shell).
Active mind (yup like an ADD terriers).
Hesitating, tends to delay (currently 2/3 of the way to an MA in procrastination).
Choosy and always wants the best (yeah I am picky- what of it?).
Temperamental (hmmm depends...).
Funny and humorous (I like to think so, I make myself and my 3 other personalities laugh on occassion).
Loves to joke (yeah I have one wicked sense of humor, demented is also another adjective used to describe it).
Good debating skills (have debate medals from Highschool).
Talkative (umm yeah that would be one of my top skills, once I start I dont stop).
Daydreamer (sure, who doesnt like to plan their live out in fantasy la-la Tinker-land?).
Friendly (yup that Spaniard smother everyone in me oozing out).
Knows how to make friends (yeah not feeling that sure about this one- but the friends I do make make up for it).
Abiding (I dont abide much).
Able to show character (well that is what someone once called it).
Easily hurt (if you are near the flesh).
Prone to getting colds (nope but when I get one its a ringer).
Loves to dress up (not that much).
Easily bored (see active mind and ADD from above).
Fussy (yeah I am honest and that is me).
Seldom shows emotions (or shows them all at once).
Takes time to recover when hurt (ummm three years later and I am only now starting really recover- is that long or time??).
Brand conscious (nope not stuck on brands though I have my ones I like).
Executive (and I want to keep it that way).
Stubborn (oh HELL yeah).

Go do it yourself

2004-08-15T17:21:00.000+02:00

J.O.:
Les Jeux Olympiques! I am recovering from Funky town, or at least trying to fool myself that I am. In honesty probably not doing too well at it but something has to count for something I would hope.

I am taking a break today from the research. I figure I need it to keep myself from getting burnt out. I will hit it hard tomorrow, and hopefully keep the pressure on myself for the whole week. Trying to do the slow and steady thing and the little bits way rather than trying to deal with the whole of it.

But taking the break makes me feel shitty. Yup I guess that is confirmation that I am still in Funk-y town. But it makes me wonder what do normal people do, in normal life when they aren’t working etc. When life isn’t framed for you by external constraints? This is one of the hardest things for me in life I think, making life there when life doesn’t make itself there. I feel incompetent and lame, sitting here wondering what to do, and not wanting to do things on my own. And I am hating on the fact that I am so whiny and needy. So what does my lame ass figure to do, well after typing some blog entries... I start knitting a sock (hey it’s been cold here today), and I watch the Olympics.

Now the Olympics are the same everywhere, I often have dreams of hopping on a plane and going to them. They are close, I have a place to stay there, but I just don’t want to spend the money and even if I did I don’t have the time as I need to focus on the thesis which is scouring my cranial cavity of what little gray matter I ever had with brillo pads.

But I can follow the Olympics even if my brain doesn’t want to function in French. And since it is functioning in French it is kind of fun. Well if nothing else I can delude myself that being lazy sitting on my ass and having a pity party for myself in Funk-y Town population-1, that place where time drags- that party I shouldn’t attend and hate going to; that it is at least a language drill.

Now when you watch French footage on the J.O. as it is called here (which by the way is continuous just like in the states) they like to show only the things in which the French are competing or are what to me are random sports (with lots of publicités about Paris being a candidate city for 2012).

I watched the 10m Air Rifle competition, I watched a lot of Judo and Fencing. And let me tell you the French women who fence can look DAMN crazy when they scream pumping their fists after making a touch. It was kinda scary to be honest, like watching a banshee or something. That was serious wild in the eyes and screeching in the screams. I saw some handball, the top hat equestrian men and then caught some riveting bicycle racing.

They occasionally sprinted in with the things I was interested in, swimming and even got to see a bit of the men's gymnastics- pommel horse (which is le cheval something or other in French- funny how it sounds translated or in another language, kind of the same hearing them talk about Papillion, and wanting to look in the air for the butterfly not in the pool). I hope that I don’t miss the really cool shit in swimming or women's gymnastics cause the French aren’t competing when they come up though.

But at the end of the day, it wasn’t helping me from my lame feelings. Nor was the irritation that if I jump my ass too hard for being lame and not doing anything about it I just jump on myself harder- which doesn’t get me doing anything. Neither is not doing anything. But I don’t feel like I can do anything or that I just don’t know where to start.

And then I got some superficial "feel better" pills (like those jelly beans you buy that make everything go up or away :) I know this is REALLY superficial but you have to take what you can get. After having gained the weight, not being allowed to work out etc, finally losing the weight but still having lost my bounce a quarter stomach (well its not completely lost but neither is all the weight that is covering what I might have) I watched beach volleyball – notorious for ripped women –Brasil v. Norway.

And you know what I felt better about my stomach. They had muscles no doubt but you couldn’t see all the lines or anything. What you could see was that they were wearing bottoms that might as well have been thongs. I haven’t EVER seen a Speedo run that high on an ass unless it was on Baywatch. And AMAZINGLY the mostly stayed there... I want me one of those!

Look today is still that shitty from yesterday’s funk-o-rama, so I’ll take whatever I can get :)

2004-08-14T17:25:00.000+02:00

Rollercoaster Ride to Funk-y Town:
All it takes is one great night to make you wake up... no not with a hangover but damn Newton and the damn theory of gravity- cause what goes up must come down. And this is the dangerous bit for me- should the highs and lows get to extreme I want to shut down and I have done that once before- NOT a good idea at all.

I got an email from Lauren yesterday asking if I wanted to meet for coffee and catch up. I was like sure. Lauren may be high maintenance but she isn’t all bad and well like I said yesterday I do anything with anyone right now. Plus if she is in a good mood she can be funny as all hell. So I go to meet her at her Mecca- Starbucks. Lauren in the past three days has been to all three of them, so you get the picture.

And why was that a ride into funk-y town? Well she wasn’t really interested in catching up. She was still acting all odd to me. I figured whatever; I spent all sorts of time asking her what was going on with her. Talking about all the things that are going on with her. Trying to pry things out of her, wondering why are we meeting if this is how she wants to be. She never once asked about me. And anything I said about myself was quite clearly received without interest or care. And honestly that didn’t bother me at all, at least not until I realized why she asked me out for coffee.

She wanted to use me so that all the things in her life would be going well for her, with the pretense that it would be better for me (i.e. read her). I don’t mind if things fell into place such that we could help each other out. And though I don’t need it as much, as I have other plans for that time should anything happen like that, I like helping people I know and it would help Julia too. But the fact is if I was trying to make that happen I sure as hell would try to put up some kind of cover up. Maybe pretend that I actually gave a damn about the other person before I hit them up to cover my ass. I would have acted like I wasn’t just there to use them.

Lauren didn’t. It was clear as the sun is a bright yellow orb. I had told Julia (her roommate) that if Lauren moved out and I was going back to the states, that I would be willing to help out and cover her last month of their contract. I like Julia, Lauren is ok in her own way and if I can help either of them I would, it comes back sooner or later so why not?

The irony to me is that for someone who has her tits tied in a knot ready to be grated about all sorts of "manners" and rules of "politeness" that others violate; Lauren has got a lot left to learn about manners and being polite herself. And this is coming from someone who still feels on more often occasion than she would like that she is still in pre-school stage. I haven’t felt that shitty after talking with someone in a LONG time.

I still haven’t decided where I am going to be living, and that doesn’t help anything. I need to soon so that I can renew my lease or move AGAIN. Though I am probably resigned to going back to the states- which really tears into me and ties me in knots like I haven’t felt since I went through the nasty break up with Nasty ex, but I don’t really want to admit it or even talk about it yet.

The only reason she came to see me (and dragged Julia with her) was that she wanted to meet with me to see if I could cover the last month of her lease. She didn’t want to get a coffee, she made me feel uncomfortable the whole time and the only one of us that got anything was Julia. Lauren wasn’t interested in me; she didn’t want to be around me, she just wanted me to make life easy for her and of course to do so on her terms and her timeframe.

She doesn’t even know yet whether her landlord would have an issue with someone else being there for the last month (and she wants to ask him, she doesn’t however want to keep her bank account open for one extra month thus getting the CAF, which means I have to pay more for her rent than she does) and the fact that I wasn’t ready to commit to her terms and her timeframe "was NOT GOOD enough." Well sorry MISS that I haven’t set everything in my life up to make yours better while you treat me like shit.

I know that there have been a lot of miscommunications between us. Including Lauren trying to tell me this morning how I feel about things. Like that I hate the East Coast- ummm no I don’t think I have ever said that, you are reading things in some other languages sweetheart. I am sorry maybe it could be interpreted (by only you) that way but that is not how I intended it to be translated. Did something get blown out of proportion in Lauren-land that little high maintenance world around you?? Actually it’s that I don’t like the South in the states. Which I am sure riles the southern debutante belle in Lauren, but that is the only thing.

I like DC, I could live there. I can do NYC or Boston too, I wouldn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere, but it is on my list to live in that part of the world at some point in my life. Its just I don’t know if I WANT to in that way, and if I WANT to right now. But seriously this morning was horrible. By the time I left it was so clear and so beyond RUDE that I just wanted to machete her head from her torso. But I for some odd reason continued to make an effort to be friendly and also to not call her out on her shit (that wouldn’t make any of this stuff any better- and there is no reason to make it worse either).

I can’t stand this crap. If that is what you want just say it up front, don’t do this bullshit "manners" crap pretending like you want to meet with me to see catch up. That is what I don’t like, that is why I can’t handle the South! This is exactly what makes me loose respect and distrust anything coming out your mouth. This crap you are pulling it is what crawls up in my ass and gives me a case of well I don’t need to be that visual.

I wish I could commit, I wish Lauren could learn how to deal with people honestly or at least take an acting class. More or less I want my life to feel like it is moving forward or that something was firmly on its track. But beyond those desires I am not near as sure about where I want to be or anything like that. And really when you keep learning that your friends are leaving, you have more questions than answers, etc; to have someone come and dump on you, intentionally using you and making you feel like utter shit in the process; well it moved me straight out of Happy-ville and into Funk-y town.

Thank god Julia was there as she was the only reason really we were talking after I realized what Lauren was up to. It completely funked me today though. It made me want to cry as I walked along the streets in Paris. And I SOOOOOO did NOT need to be in a funk again, I can’t afford to be in a funk like this right now.

This kind of funk is really making me feel like shit. It is making me want to cry over my life. It is making me question things. It makes life feel so big and out of control that I don’t want to face it. It is making me want to be an ostrich, and I so do not have the fucking time to do that. I don’t have time to wade through that shit, try to finish this bitch of a thesis, and figure out nuclear fission. I don’t have the mental capacities to do all that either. It is hard enough to get a boot up my ass for the day to day shit; I sure as hell don’t in my disconnected, disjointed state need you pulling this shit while I am tottering on the cliff.

And poor Cecily, I finally went to pick up my things and then cornered her to be the Freud on the couch about things. I talked with her for about an hour and a half. I can’t believe she is leaving in 2 weeks. I move back to the flat and I have to decide some things about my life. I wish the decisions would all be made for me and I could then just start to plan, but I think this time around I am going to have to make that decision first. And I am completely lost for what to do.

And I am pissed at Lauren for throwing me into this funk-y chicken dance. GRRRRRR.

2004-08-13T17:39:00.000+02:00

Delicious:
So I had my meeting with "Him Who Stares and Scares." I went in fluttering. Hardly breathing and definitely unable to respond with my normal quick smart ass wit. It’s always great to have a person you work with drive you to bipolar extremes (hopeful to homicidal is an often used phrase in my flat). That is always a bad sign of something, maybe the apocalypse is coming? What the hell is it that intimidates me so much about dealing with this man? GAH!!

Anyways he wasn’t near as harsh as I expected. He was a bit harsh, but he said and I agree, I would rather have him be hard on my work now than right before it is due. I want this to turn out good, and if it does a decent chunk of the reason is going to be him and his commentaries. In that sense he really is a great advisor, he is brilliant and occasionally nice.

The work I sent was not only all over the place (yes that is proof I do have ADD) but it wasn’t connected and honestly in some ways pointless. I am still flapping in the water over here. I have about an inch of it so I can breathe but I am still splashing alot. I wasn’t comfortable sending it, but writing it and sending it meant that I had something that he could then help me to flip around and try to get on track.

So we talked for a while. He turned the fistful of pinecones up my ass with some comments related to language. Of course why wouldn’t he? Just when you let your guard down... I swear I am seriously tempted if I could find those balls of Jupiter I usually wear around my neck to start correcting his English (its not that bad but I could correct it if I wanted to) for that.

But at the end of the meeting we talked for a few minutes, he seemed to act like he was human. One of the nice kinds too. The "Scares" part wasn’t there. He said some nice things; he "Stared" at me in the eyes. And then came the ringer-dinger. I asked when he would be back in town (cause oh yeah more vacation for the Frenchman) and he said the 24th. And then reminded me why I LOVE the French language, especially when he speaks it. No it’s not the way he speaks it with that hard to decipher lisp. No its not that love sonnets are being spoken. It’s that he uses direct translations and it makes me giggle.

He says to me "Bon Courage- I look forward to having another delicious discussion with you when I return." This is the man of "galloping interest rates" infamy and now "delicious discussion" and a few other funnies in there added to his misunderstanding of differences in use between this and next. I don’t know if that meant talking with me about this pile of merde I sent him was delicious (if so I haven’t a clue how or why. I did offer to share my divinely delicious macaroons- not the Jewish kind but the real French kind from the best place in town- but he didn’t take one) or if he was being ironic/sarcastic in that French way that flies over my head.

Maybe there is hope... But at least this time when I left his office I could balance the fistful of pinecones up my ass with a delicious discussion.

2004-08-13T17:32:00.000+02:00

It’s Wonderful, It’s Wonderful:
So I got the movie French Kiss from a friend before I left for France. I love Kevin Kline so it’s great and usually makes me laugh. Not nearly as dangerous to watch as Bridget Jones either. So there is this scene where Kevin Kline steals a motorcycle to go find Meg Ryan and they play the "It’s Wonderful" song. And that is what I had running through my head last night. Cause I rode a motorcycle in Paris.

That is right, I broke all my rules. I am feeling so disconnected and disjointed and frustrated and many other adjectives that any offer of any thing that connects me to anyone else I pretty much do without question. You invite me to a coffee, unless I have a plan with another person (i.e. "Him Who Stares and Scares"), I am there. Anyone asks anything my answer is yes. You could probably ask me to go pick up dog shit with you and I would say yes with a smile.

So yesterday the friend of a friend that got me my kick ass artist flat for the month stopped by to pick up his mail. I thought my mailing address was complex, nothing compared to Sebastien. But he stopped in and then asked me if I wanted to go get a drink. Do something?? Yes sure I say, looking I am sure like some bouncing Jack Russell Terrier or worshipful following Golden Retriever.

First we went out in the neighborhood, he showed me a cool place or two- including the 1.50 euro Kir Happy Hour, and it was really nice. I used a bit of my French as Sebastien speaks English but not the real English. During our "happy hour" drink he got a call from a friend in town and decided to meet up with said friend (named Gary). Nice guy he is he asked me if I wanted to go. Hey it’s not picking up dog shit; sure I am up for it.

And this is where the motorcycle comes in. Once we find me a helmet I am on the thing. I am not clinging for dear life I am riding. Now I normally have a freak out relationship with motorcycles. Usually I am in a car-they swerve, slide and do all sorts of outrageous and crazy things that are often completely unpredictable. Sometimes known to give me heart attacks when driving here in Europe. Also if you are on one in the states Dog help you if an accident happens because you are TOAST. So my normal deal is to just say no. Nasty Ex wanted one and I did everything in my power to convince him otherwise. I wouldn’t even get on one to go around the corner.

And what do I do tonight? I get on a motorcycle with out a second thought and whiz through the winding streets and sidewalks of Paris with a crazy Parisian motorcycle driver. Swerving, not looking at the road, and without knowing it I looked in that side view mirror and saw myself in the reflection. I was smiling. That ear to ear smile that hasn’t made near as often an appearance in my life lately as it should. There are some times in life that I enjoy myself so thoroughly that I don’t even notice that I am radiating microwave beams out my orifices. I am alive and living in that exact second that I am really in love with.

We went over and through the 18th which I don’t know that well so it was great. I saw another interesting and cool part of Paris, there will always be something new to see or find in this place. We met Gary at an Irish pub that is run by a Swede. It was fun. Gary knows EVERYONE. He doesn’t live here anymore but he is one of those kinds of guys who is just sweet as can be to EVERYONE. He is the life of the party, but the kind that wants to bring EVERYONE else with him to his party.

So I partied with him. I drank a pint with him, his girlfriend who is AWESOME. She is one of those Aussies that has been everywhere, done everything. She bartends in Japan to make money (and by the sounds of it makes SERIOUS money doing it). You know the just got off the Trans-Mongolian train type. And then we went out for dinner. I rode on the back of the motorcycle in the cold air, smiling the whole way to the restaurant.

Gary knows all the kick ass places to eat it seems and he found me a new favorite- Chez Omar. The most DIVINE couscous place that had a Steak with a Poivre sauce that is enough to make you beg. I had the fluffiest, separated and light couscous with a perfect lamb kebab for my dinner and Gary kept offering to share his sauce and I got a hunk of steak on my plate too. I tried to pay for dinner but he was having none of it.

After dinner all 6 of us headed back to the 18th to hang out at another bar where he knows EVERYONE. I talked with his work friend who joined us for dinner and continued on to drinks- Mathieu. Mathieu seemed pretty interesting and I was enjoying flirting with someone again. I had no interest but I was feeling alive and we talked for awhile. Sebastien wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but I figure that as nice as Sebastien is he has a girlfriend and it’s not me. So he will have to get over it.

Next thing I know Gary is ordering me another drink and after that he introduces me to his friend Sam. Sam is really cool. If you can’t tell Gary has ALL the cool people in his Blackberry. Sam is a dance captain at the Moulin Rouge! Sam and I talked about dance and she and I are going to go to a dance class here soon. Cause she knows the real places to find a decent dance class. She also has got some free and half price tickets. So it looks like I might be going to see her perform at the Moulin Rouge for dirt cheap (normal tickets are usually 90 euros and up I think we will get them for 30 if we have to pay at all).

At about 2 am I sent Sebastien home saying I could get myself back to the flat. Mattieu promptly offered to drive me, I think more because Sebastien made him uncomfortable. Actually he offered to "guard" me, which is another one of those entertaining uses of language in French. And at about 3 am Mattieu wanted to head out. So I bid my adieus to the troupe and Gary, he asked me to put my information into the Blackberry. I feel so special :) And hopefully I will see him when he comes back from Amsterdam for the weekend before he heads back to NYC on Wednesday.

By this point the liquor is getting to me. I am tipsy and the French is flowing much easier out the mouth but not always as easy in and through the ears. But really I think it was more getting hit with a tired wave as it was 3 am and when I went out at 6:45pm with Sebastien for a beer I sure as hell didn’t know what was going to come my way.

So I am glad I said yes; I am glad I went out; and I am glad I made it to my bed.

2004-08-13T12:46:00.000+02:00

Tenterhooks:

Ok so I am a hermit, I am all up in my shell daily. I ignore people, my computer is my bestfriend and boyfriend, I am working constantly on this draft of mush with have demons running around my cranial cavity scouring my greymatter with brillo pads. Oh and did I mention I am tired. I

am also working my little derrière off to create a pile of mishmash that is a bunch of merde to then have to hit send to Monsieur Frenchie. Today.

And I just hit send. I swear I have to work up my bravery to do that. And my stubbornness as I sent the email text in french. But honestly hitting send makes my whole insides quiver like green jello. Seriously the whole world population of Papillons are fluttering and well not in that "ooooh goodie" way. I am always my harshest critic and I am sure I am not a complete ass in front of him, but for some reason I want to imperss (probably for reasons of ego and strategy- I need a letter of rec from this one) and I will probably be meeting with him this afternoon.

Guess its a good thing I wore a top with cleavage shot- maybe that will get me some comments and courtesy?? I have relinquished my feminist screams for dealing with "Him Who Stares and Scares" as I dont have the energy or sanity to do so anymore, plus I Have a feeling that a sense of humor will get me much further.

UGH three-four hours of flutterty torture and counting....

2004-08-10T15:52:00.000+02:00

BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER:

BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER, I spent all this time going and carefully composing this great underhanded email, hoping to still get my puny ass considered for "Him Who Stares and Scares" assistantship, and what does fucking hotmail go and do- it doesnt attach my CV.

Scream Loud and Proud with me:
FUCK!!!!!!!

Cherry on Top: After I produced my French masterpiece, he responded to it in English. WHY?? He responded to my last French emain in French. I should be stubborn and continue to respond in French but I am deflated.

Why do I even fucking care if he knows I speak French?? Why do I care what he thinks?? I cant even begin to explain why this has commenced the climbing all up in my ass but DOG has it!
Why cant I just satisfy myself laughing at the prat because he cant type in English and obviously doesnt use spell check? Why cant I content myself with the fact that for two emails in a row he has at least spelt my name correctly?? None of this consoles me. Shut up I can be a drama queen if damn well want to!

And tehn he drops more new news- he will be gone next week again. WTF?? I begrudge no french person their vacation but what kind of freak takes 3 weeks then a week of work, a week of vacation a week of work and a week of vacation?? Not to mention doing so before a conference he is coordinating on the 2-4th of Sept, and starting an exchange program with a US university for next semester??

Oh well I am going to go down a bottle of vodka chanting for the rest of teh evening:
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

2004-08-10T12:18:00.000+02:00

Je Suis Imbécile:

You know I have completely lost it. Not that I have ever thought I had IT to be honest. This is what happens when I am up until 2 in the morning disaggregating, calculating, comilping statistics and trying to create any kind of analysis related to female employment rates. I should not be allowed near statistics, MS Excel or a freaking calculator. I want more politics, less science! Really people this is the très jolie vie Parisien right now.

Anyways on to stupidity of the day. So I wake up early- must get to internet and send applications, dig for more numbers, email "Him Who Stares and Scares," oh yeah and I am supposed to have something to send him draftwise so I should get on that too! So I wake up early I stumble along and I attempt to dress myself.

To say I am fashion inept sometimes is polite. Today it is completely accurate. I usually manage (thanks to an immense amount of black) to get something on that well doesnt look too hiedous. But this time there was a small issue. See I havent gone to pick up my pack from Cecily yet- BAD me. And that pack has all my clothes. So the clothes I have I have been wearing repeately since I left Italy for the Parisian hit and run on the way to the UK (washing in between of course). So as you might guess, I have run out of differnt coordinations and am sick of them. So I chose one outfit, then thought it looks like it might be too cold for that (yes it is raining here and chilly too) and I decided to change.

I changed into what I thought at the time was a quite smart outfit. Nice pair of pale blue Capris a shortsleeve white button up shirt and a lightweight black sweater, using a scarf of mine that is navy, royal blue and pale blue as a belt and accessory (a fashion category of which I am sincerely inept at coordinating). I figured I had managed to put on something that didnt make me look like a vagabond so on my oblivious way I went. I saw myself in the reflection of windows and was content.

Then about 25 minutes into the 35 minute walk to university I decided I was a bit hot, so I was going to take off the sweater. I did and then realized I committed one of my own despised fashion faux pas. My previous outfit had been a black tank with a skirt. So I had been wearing a black bra. I went to try on the next outfit thinking I might not wear this so not changing my bra- I am now wearing a white shirt with a very black bra.

GAH!!!!!!!

Pray for me to not be too idiotic, I must now go write a "kiss ass- S'il Vous Plait avec une cerise consider me" email in French to "Him Who Stares and Scares" hopefully without to many gaffes.

2004-08-09T12:36:00.000+02:00

Change You Are Not My Friend:
As if changing cultures wasn’t bad enough I have to change bloody keyboards too. Normally change does not bother m, I actually like teh culture here- a lot. But when you start messing with my typing it is gloves off.

I don’t have internet access at home and there is only one university related location I can go to kick up and get my research and work done without paying through the nose. And I am always on the look out for ways to do things with out paying. Yes siree I cut corners where ever I can! Plus for some reason even if I wanted to cart my laptop around it won’t let me access the network here. And since I did it before and cant now I bet it is something those Italians did to my computer!

So I go to the lab daily- it is open 6 hours daily and I get there for about 5 of them. I know that sounds like a lot but when you combine email catch up, reading the news, searching and then applying for a job or internship, pulling some research data, looking at your favorite blogs... well its not nearly enough time. I try to go in there with a "To Do" list to make sure I get something done as I can waster time on the internet like no other, and pray I can get half of it done.

The real issue you see is that I have a Yankee puter and Sciences-Po has a Frenchy puter. And while I can make the two talk to each other and I can read all the notes and pop ups in French now, I can’t change the keyboards. They run an old version of windows at this Salle d'Informatique (I also cannot change my home page from being some Russian porn site either) and I am stuck. So I manage to get into the kick of things whilst emailing etc at campus and then when I get home I fuck up all my writing with the stupid AZERTY crap. A's and W's are my demons.

I am a pretty fast typist, in general I can type just as fast as I talk and that is pretty darn fast. And after 5 hours of working on their Frenchy puter, I come home to do some thesis draft writing and well I am knocked around for about 30 minutes minimum before my fingers remember that we don’t like that AZERTY bullshit! That I don’t have to press shift to get the damn period or any of the bloody numbers.

This is annoying as all hell when your mind moves at the speed of light, only remembers 10% of what is created at the speed of light and your fingers will not cooperate as you try to get it all out and do so in a way that resembles some language that can be spoken and understood.

And then I go and have an ADD night, where I read and work on one thing, take a break, decide I want to read something else and 5 minutes later I decide I don’t want to continue reading that part and bounce again.

Dear Dog I think I am becoming Tigger. Bouncing is what I do Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoo. But I am not so sure it is a wonderful thing about Tigger’s that bouncing! I am getting pretty tired of the bouncing to be honest, it wears you thin. I have been bouncing from house to house with no roots, from town to town traveling, and now from article to article as I desperately try to get some of my research together so I can hash 4-5K words together and send them to my favorite French misogynist on Monday, trying to make a decent impression and maybe if I am lucky...

2004-08-08T12:42:00.000+02:00

Things Are not The Same In Oz:
Miel Pops are not Corn Pops. I should have known better than to pay 4 euros hoping for similarity. Miel is NOT corn in French. I know this, it is honey. But judge the picture looked kinda like the Corn Pops from home.

It isn’t bad and I will stick it through but really I should have known better. I don’t know what it is with me and "foreign" grocery stores, even ones that really shouldn’t be foreign anymore. They prompt me to do stupid things and try more than I normally would. I guess that isn’t bad given my food issues but at the same time

Anyways I fought the inertia and headed downstairs to the garden. I sat outside in the shaded light area, shooed away the rats that fly (otherwise known as pigeons, I until the age of 7 however thought they were called rats that fly (only said in Spanish) cause that is what Abuela called them). I spent 5 hours reading 3.5 articles and sifted a bit of notes for tomorrow’s grand write-a-thon (better known as the cut-and-paste-a-thon), before "Him Who Stares and Scares" returns and I am supposed to send him something.

When it got too dark and I couldnt absorb another word I was reading; I headed upstairs andI dinner, I composed some emails to hit send on tomorrow (one for a job and one seeing if I can trick "Him who Stares and Scares" into giving me the assistantship- if he hasn’t already got someone else) and then tried to restart the engines- it is work and sequester time after all.

And then the time d-r-a-g-s, I can't concentrate- I am full, and that whole I do nothing with my life and have no connections to others set of feelings seeps back in. I am full from my research work but don’t have anything else to replace the time with, nor is there really any structure to my days/life right now. I would sacrifice my ego to get the assistantshipe with "Him Who Stares and Scares" just to have something to do and some organization. But I can’t focus- I get this way with out patterns; not even Beethoven’s Sonatas are helping. I mean what is normal, what does normal life look like? What does normal do, particularly whilst living in Paris? Am I normal? For that matter do I want to be normal?

2004-08-07T12:47:00.000+02:00

I Am Not A Loser!:
I managed to get myself out of my flat today. And for me 70 percent of the battle is getting out the door. I went to the post office and picked up shit I don’t need that I shipped to myself, cause I didn’t want to carry it. Then there was the library. I decided on a whim to see since they were open if they had free internet access. They do but on this very weird make an appointment, one hour limit system and you have to Inscrire. So Incrire I did and then was promptly shafted on my one hour limit geting 5 minutes of my first 30 minutes and tehn being tapped on teh shoulder to be booted off just when I was trying to access the numbers I needed. I managed to check my emails to keep the box from getting too cluttered, hit send a few times and realize I need to be back at university to get access to what I want from the OECD statistics.

Then I went to meet up with Margot, I am so glad I went out with her this afternoon. We get along great, she is awesome like that. More importantly though, I needed that kind of interaction. I needed to do something that proved I was not a hermit, that I was not ignoring the outside and staying only on the inside. I stayed outside chatting with her about any and everything for 4 hours. We had expensive but good ice-cream from an Italian place where I fucked with my brain and languages (you know the ones I make such an effort to keep separate) ordering in Italian. Then after we went our ways I walked along the Seine, past a Paris Plage Concert, some street performers, through the Notre Dame gardens (which are gorgeous in summer bloom) and then the rest of the way home.

But to be honest, as much as I enjoy being back in Paris, I have been feeling kind of lame and like a hermit crab lately. I am not really doing much with people- partially because a lot of them aren’t here (vacation or moved). I talk to those who are here occasionally, but we aren’t really interacting. I have my "pattern." I walk 35 minutes to school (one day if I get really bored I just might get a pedometer and count the steps it takes) I use the internet (check email, search and apply for a job or internship, read a blog or two, check the news and exchange rates, research a bit, print a few things, and then distract myself and then work like a dog- you get the point). And reverse the 35 minute walk here and walk back to the flat (sometimes making a random stop or two if I feel like I am too lame for getting back to the flat too "early," I read a bit- 99.9% of the time for my thesis- maybe in the garden maybe in the flat with the fan pointed at me, make some dinner or munch on random ingredients, and then I either read some more or I watch some French television.

That is pretty dull and not exactly what I would call social. I can take that hermit crab metaphor quite far in actuality as most of the time on weekends in particular I feel a fight to leave the flat (even just to go down to the garden or corner store) at all. First of all I am in my shell and staying in it. I occasionally have human contact, but I really haven’t been doing things. This means that I feel like I have no life, and when you add to that the no order or structure except for what I design myself (which it is well established I am NO good at that) I feel like a hermit.
And it is not exactly all fun. And while I don’t like it I often feel like I am inadequate in having the skills to go out and interact with others when I don’t have those structures setting it up for me. Yeah you heard it, I don’t like it and I don’t say it often- but I want life to do it all for me. I want it to be easy.

I am tired of the struggle, though arguably struggle is what I do best. I struggle on everything, struggle is what makes all the good things happen, it’s what gives you character, it’s what I want to quit with right NOW. I want to learn about ease, that thing really that does make me green with jealousy (and I am not a jealous person). I have no clue how to go about that or what to do. Often I hear people tell me to release things. I have never been good at releasing things though. We are not building off my skill set here people. Replacing yes, and once I replace I usually don’t look back or hold on. At least not consciously. They both may begin with "re" but neither is similar in re-ality.

I know things are put in front of me as challenges and on some days I am up to them on others I feel like I am beat down by everything else that if I have to face some kind of challenge I will wilt as I will most likely fail and if there is one thing I hate more than stepping on my ego with a fist full of pinecones to shove up my arse, it is failure.

And today I am tired but satisfied that I beat back a demon for today at least. Probably more fires to fight tomorrow, but quite simply I cant think about that right now.

2004-08-06T15:31:00.000+02:00

Le Meteo:
Do the French go through some kind of meteorology course to understand their weather people? In general I don’t trust weather people. I grew up in Arizona where they were useless (yeah thanks for telling me it is hot enough to fry an egg on the asphalt- Mom thought I was REAL cute when I went and did that with a dozen eggs, calling it a science experiment didn’t get me out of that shit). Then I moved to Seattle where really it was a pot shot and no one listened to them anyways. If it’s not summer 98% chance you will get caught in the drizzle. As I had to trek all around campus (for work classes, work again) it was a given I would get drizzled on and splash immense amount of water on the back of my pants as I walked with a purpose (read faster than a 6ft 7in man). I lived there 7 years with out a rain coat and 6 with out an umbrella. I just made do- hats are my friend. Plus it never mattered- it was humid so my hair would do crazy stupid stuff so why bother trying to do anything to it. I never cried about getting wet it was just part of life.

But here in France, they are serious about the weather. I don’t often catch the meteo as it is not included in the national news but given its own space in the lineup. The weather woman (cause its usually women- some with the horrid taste to wear whit cat suits that look like there might be Camel Toe on the horizon) takes about 5 minutes or so explaining the next 2-3 days only.

She explains things on the borders, in the country and then on all sorts of levels that we in the states at least do not engage in. She gives serious explanations with shit like the barometric pressures that as they move change in pressures. Not only does this happen in colors but in numbers too. I don’t know what to do or make of those numbers. She talks about all sorts of fronts and things that really make about as much sense to me as calculus. She does all of this with ut telling me the simple and understandable temperatures in their funny numbers.

Yesterday I walked out the flat, blissfully ignorant that it would rain. It was grey, but that doesn’t predict anything at about 9:30 in the morning. I am in the computer lab all day and after that well… I walk out and look it has rained. So I walk home in my tank top (I thought for sure it would get warmer- I should have a job as the weather woman) and skirt. I live about 35 minute walk each way from university right now and I like that I am walking it. I feel stronger for it and it helps to keep me "healthy." It’s also easy as I am a straight shot down one street to my advisors office and only one block off that street for the library and computer lab.

On the way home I look up at the grey skies pleading with them to not open up on me. I should have known better this atmosphere is French. You show any sign of anything other than bitchiness and it is relentless. Pour on me it did, drenched like a rat I dodged from awning to awning, attempting not to get caught by the drips from the awning. Ducking in when I could find a small café. I ducked into one for 15 minutes and the nice man took pity on me offering me a drink.

As it is summer it’s not cool, it is wet and sticky humid and still kind of muggy warm. So he offered me some juice. I declined as I am being stingy and didn’t carry cash on myself to (in an attempt to avoid the grocery stores again. Hunger Strike 2004 has made me want to buy every bit of food I can find) pay for it. He said it was on the house, I looked like I needed it. That says it all; Frenchmen pity me and my wet look. 5 minutes later it seemed to dry up and I tried to make a dramatic dash the rest of the way (I was only half way home) and five minutes later the gods opened up the clouds and emptied them out once more.

I gave up. Luckily my bag kept things dry and I walked splashing my flip flops through the puddles, skipping along a bit. What else was I going to do, cursing the clouds wasn’t going to get me anywhere at this point. I finally got back to the flat, sent the cat scurrying as I was WET. After another shower I curled up inside and did some reading with Tchaikovsky playing the background. Before I turned on the TV to see what was on the news (the

2004-08-05T13:40:00.000+02:00

Friends:
I am so lucky to have the friends that I do in my life. If I ever forget it, once the call is set out I am quickly reminded. Yesterday I put out the SOS call. I don’t do it too often as I dont like to think I ever need help- and certainly not to people I know and love, though I have one it once or twice more than I would have liked to this year. I was freaking out and I needed the centered people (you know the ones I envy). The thoughts of debt were making my chest crush, the idea of leaving Europe was making my eyes tear, and life in general was looking a bit overwhelming. I know there are people with worse quandries than I but since this is about me and my experiences it is big to me. Too much uncertainty makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I have had well more than my fair dose this year.

Life is always that way if you only look at the big picture and don’t cut it down into some of the smaller bits. It is not to say the view today is much better. I still feel quite like a piece of driftwood at sea and I have an undergut feeling that there is either a hurricane at bay or at the least I have some riptides I have to go through. But I do recognize that I am a lucky piece of driftwood. I have phenomenal friends who every time I climb up on the edge, shove on that heavy suit of armor and mail donning it with the grace and eloquence. They drag themselves to some poor horses that carry the burden and charge to the direction of my plaintive screams in the distance. They extend their hands to me and kindly and carefully talk me down to the hand and then help me hop down into a softer landing. They tell me the things I know are true and tell others but never see in myself. They confirm my strength to survive, they tell me I am “normal” (though I battle with that every time), that this process is normal and that I WILL graduate, I WILL end up in the right place for me, and not to let others get me down or flustered.

I am also lucky as certain parts of me are finally starting to spark, parts I had wondered if were lost in the Great Fall of the House of Cards 2001. When I was sent into spirals so deep that I didn’t know black of that shade existed, so deep that my internal compass sprung a leak, was ruptured and was irretrievably damaged (new one still under testing for construction faults). But some parts have finally come home to roost, the parts I have needed to get back for a while. I am still not complete, I am different, but I am getting some of my spunk back. They weren’t lost and they are a part of me, who ever me is, and for that I am grateful.

I had a wonderful evening last night sitting in the garden, talking with one of the wonderful ladies (yeah I use my French) in the complex and then reading and researching till it was dark out. I felt, as Helen calls it- my inner banshee, yelp a bit as I took pride in speaking the whole time with her in French.

Take that French Misogynistic Advisor! Ever since I was two years old I have taken a spiteful amount of pride in doing that which people have told me I cant. I can’t scale that mountain- bugger off and watch me. I can’t carry that pack look at me now Ma! I am a trooper and I am a blazingly defiant soul. I guess it is a power trip- I am saying no it is NOT you who gets to decide what does or doesn’t define me, what I can or cant do. As the song sings: I can do anything you can do better, I can do anything better than you. No you cant, yes I can, no you cant, yes I can, yes I can, YES I CAN. And for those who know me they sure as hell can see my feet stomping as I finish that verse with my wild changing color eyes.

I am an independent being and I am the one who decides. And yes I do like being able to rub his nose in it. It is now a game for me, making him feel a bit of kilter, out of his game, and uncomfortable as his assumptions turned out to be wrong. But even if said person is not there, I find when I take the moment to look at it, there is an immense amount of gratification independent of rubbing anyone else’s nose in it that I derive from proving other peoples conceptions about me wrong to the most important person I’ll ever need to prove them to- Me.

It is that gratification, and a sliver of hope that are fueling my fire along to become the split person (half focused on the thesis work I need to create and half focused on securing some kind of tie that feels justifiable). I am working as hard as I can to create some kind of map for myself. I know it is not something you can sit yourself down pen in hand and create all in one felt swoop. I know I will have to re cartograph the contours of things. I will probably have to reorientate the directions and my direction. But I like the thought of having a plan, even though I know that it will most likely need to be amended. At least then there is a direction- right or wrong, turn around or persevere. And I guess at the end of the day, direction is important to me now.

2004-08-04T13:52:00.000+02:00

Singing The Blues:
So I am slightly depressed today. Who am I shitting? I am in the blues with Seal playing in the background. Turns out Cecily is moving at the end of the month to DC. Sure I get my flat back but my best girl pal who usually can make me laugh harder than anyone else here is leaving. Most of my Paris crew is moving on (minus three- four good friends which isn’t minor but still not the same as the "real heyday"). This could well mean there is a kernel of possibility that it is time for me to move on too. In addition to that my gut is saying that chances are more and more that I will have to move back to the states.

I am devastated by the thought of leaving Europe. I don’t want to go yet. During other periods of living abroad I wanted to come "home" for a variety of reasons, but I don’t feel like it is time. I want to stay here, and I want to in my heart and soul. It feels right to be on this continent. And I sure as hell don’t want to be stuck in the middle of the election year bullshit. (I vote but I don’t want to have to listen to the smear campaigns either).

More importantly I want to sit through a glorious Parisian Autumn changing of leaves, a Winter of grey and ski slopes, a spring full of glorious daffodils, gerberas everywhere and running through the parks, drinking my beloved Volvic Citron, enjoying the crazies (we all talk to ourselves on the street here), with a breeze on my hair that lifts me as I walk down the street in my skirt, boots or high heels or flip-flops for that matter. I want to continue becoming the person I feel I am only now starting to find and who is inherently here not back in the states.
Life is always topsy-turvy for me. I accept that, I have issues like anyone else and I am working through them one by one becoming more and more confident in the house of cards that I have worked my ass of to rebuild. And I have a different and "happier" sense of contentment here in Paris. I have a better approach to my life, one that finally feels organic and like ME, and it is one I am not sure would survive the onslaught and return to the US.

But more and more I am finding less reason to justify staying in Europe. Well reasons that aren’t seriously selfish and not really that purposeful. Granted the whole citizenship is still sitting there chapping my ass, and I am looking into that but on the other hand for right now the Spanish government is spinning me in bureaucratic circles and well that is getting to be a pain in the ass. But I can say if I do go I will go with that damn birth certificate! Even if I have to go to that 300 odd person town where my grandfather was born at the turn of the century and shake it out of the churches books myself (that is after I dig my grandfathers grave up and give his skull a good whack with a golf club for throwing his papers into the New Jersey Harbor after clearing through Ellis Island).

Mostly however the pain over the return is related to the fact that I am financially paranoid. I HATE having debts, let alone 33K of them. I know to some that is not a lot, but to me who has never had a cent of debt she couldnt clear at a given moment, who was raised to be terrified of debt, it gives me panic attacks. Before this whole adventure Id never had a single one that I couldn’t if I cleared all assets pay off immediately. I have no assets left and well I couldn’t pay anything off right now. And I want to clear as much of it as I can as soon as I can.

And if I cant manage to tie down some kind of internship or work here well staying in Europe isn’t really that smart of an option when I could be back in the states doing the same thing as here (getting my PhD things together) and working at the same time to corral some of the debts rather than letting them grow and get out of control, which though I know they are not- they sure as hell feel like it to me.

Granted I won’t actually have to leave for approximately 3 months, but I will have to decide here shortly. And that means I have to get my act together since the good fairy didn’t drop a job in my lap (working with my advisor- instead she whacked me on the head as I was skipping through the forest) little Tinker foo-foo needs to get her act together and start pimping out her resume. She also needs to decide where she is going to try and stay in Europe (Paris is lovely but might not work, Spain could come through but no one really knows… I don’t know if I could handle the Belgian trauma after yesterday but it is an option as is the UK I guess.) And the kicker to my day, the job that I thought hey that just might be my savior... here in Paris, decent paying etc... Well it’s not because though it is with an international organization whose home is in Paris, the job itself is based in DC. I will apply but I wanted to scream when I saw that.

I don’t want to go to DC. Don’t get me wrong I think it is a great place and I could live there. That tempo and vitality definitely makes my heart go and starts the engine. I always work better in places that are at balls to the wall speed, but my heart right now wants to stay in Europe. I have never wanted to stay in a place more than I think I do now. I loved Seattle and I know I want to go back there one day but leaving while it was hard was a move forward for me and I knew that so it was with a bit of hesitation but with a sense of adventure that I left, and I had a year or so to come to terms with the idea of leaving.

The thought of getting on a plane even if it is three months from now tears me to bits and makes me want to cry. Fuck I am welling up right now as I type this just thinking about it. I can feel the strings TEAR at me snapping chords that hurt to the very core of my soul. I haven’t cried about moving and leaving a place before. I have cried about leaving people, but not a place. And while I welled up leaving Seattle (my friend came home early to say bye to me and I didn’t expect that) I didn’t shed any tears when I left to "complete" the move. Maybe it is because I feel a door shutting in my life and I am not ready for it to shut. I am not ready to be done with this part of my life- it has gone too fast, and I don’t feel that sure about what happens when the door shuts.

In addition to that as of right now there isn’t an actual way forward in returning to the states. I haven’t really planned any of that out. And while my life has lacked a certain sense of organization for awhile and I haven’t enjoyed that at all- I don’t want to go backwards. To be fair there isn’t any proven or applied path forward here in Europe either. But while I love certain parts of my life in the states I am afraid of going backwards and what exactly is it that I am going back to anyways? And where would I go to? Do I go to Portland where the "famille" (yes the same one that makes me wear the pretty white coats that the nice men in the van brings) is and I can live rent free (with less professional opportunities)? I haven’t lived at "home" for over 11 years, I might just commit suicide or homicide (always said if anyone was going to kill my mother it would be me- good thing I look good in white) if I did that.

Do I go back to Seattle- if so then for all intensive purposes I have to settle myself to going back to working outside that which I am trying to reorient my life to. Sure I can find ways to make some bills meet and I could probably squat with a friend or two or something like that but still, should I take that option? DO I go to SF which I don’t know about working but I would be willing to try, to NYC where I have little to no connections or to DC which will have a few but... Neither location would have a job (as of now) waiting for me or anything, and none of
them are exactly known for being cheap. And most DC and NYC internships are unpaid. (which why am I doing an internship if I want to go back to graduate school? To keep all doors open, to have SOMETHING for the love of Buddha to do and frame my life with?? Yup that would sound like the right reasoning) If I am going to do an unpaid internship why not try to do one here in Europe, I have a friend at the WTC in Brussels who would give me one in a heartbeat. The ILO has offices in Paris and Madrid, not to mention there is the FAO in Rome (along with Enrico) and the WTO is in Geneva, along with random World Bank locations too.

But the big question for me is am I going backwards in my life if I return to the states. Really, what the hell is it exactly that I want in my life? I don’t know how to create it. Nothing is ever what it seems anyways. I just feel like hell today about this, I didn’t want to face this. I was supposed to have a period of joy over something. Things were supposed to fall into the places that I wanted them to (I guess they are falling into place but for what I don’t know).

There are too many options and questions right now and well it is too much. It overwhelms me, it makes me want to tackle it and at the same time hide under the covers hoping that it never comes to pass. We all know how great the ostrich method has served me. I will be sending out resumes, sending a few emails of hope to try and gather at the last bits of the threads that were once hope (before the "good" fairy WHACKED me).

2004-08-03T14:01:00.000+02:00

Where Oh WHERE Has My Spork Gone??:
The most horrid advertisement EVER.

I think gouging my eyes out with a spork will NEVER be enough to remove one of the more traumatizing moments in my life. But it sure as hell is a start I want to make. As I have well explained earlier French TV is erm… particular to say the least. Some are quirky, some are odd and some are down right disturbing. It is a pot shot as to what you will get to be honest. Well today took the cake, and there is little to no chance of anything else taking the crown.

DO NOT READ ON IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE OR PRUDISH

Ok with that warning out of the way here goes; cause if I have to be traumatized why shouldn’t everyone else? Now it started off kind of humorous in translation. See the name of this show was Sex Pub. Sounds all kinky already, it is short for publicité the French way to say ads but that is beyond the point. This is a show about how sex is used in advertisements. Yes we all know sex sells the French like to document it in the Franco-phone world. So we watched a few publicités, nothing too hot and heavy for France to be honest. And then the most awful thing ever conceived.

So it is a Belgian ad and it starts as follows: there is a milkman and he delivers milk to the first house, and the lady of the manor comes to the door waves, says thank you and smiles a toothy smile- showing her rotting teeth. Then the milkman goes to the second house, and at the second house we have a repeat event of the decaying tooth smile. At this point the relevance of the product is brought into the play as a comment for some reason is made about chocolate condoms. (Ok whatever) Then the milkman goes home says hello to his wife- who of course makes the *ding* smile with perfect pearly whites, and then comes the SICKO part. The milkman pats the LAMB that is there kind of like a dog and the lamb makes the most grotesque "smile" that shows his decaying teeth.

WHAT THE FUCK- who the hell puts bestiality into an ad for condoms?? Is that supposed to make me want to buy that brand? We all got the point that the milkman was getting his oral pleasures elsewhere than home. Well before then, promise Jim.

I want to have sat in on that conceptual meeting- the one where people sit around a table and say hmm I don’t think people will really get the point so let’s take it one step further and use an animal… I think a lamb would be the best symbolically. Sweet Jehosephat, WHAT THE FUCK was the purpose in inserting the lamb into the deal. I mean come on what did the lamb do to that advertising guru?

And the decaying teeth- I have a sweet tooth and while brushing the teeth may not keep the decay out does usually keep your teeth from looking like they are going to fall out.

There are not enough words for how appalling and traumatizing that ad/pub was.

2004-08-02T14:07:00.000+02:00

Bienvenue A Gay Paree:
Damn I forgot how blatant Frenchmen are, they are worse than Italians. You’d think with all the freaking topless models covering the everyday magazines and les publicités that they would get over it and quit with the blatant lingering glance at my tube top clad chest.

It is hot damn it, bras be burned and while you are at it- Quit It! Then I went to the computer lab, the long anticipated/dreaded email arrived. My feedback from the draft proposal on the thesis from "Him the Non Communicative." Now the Meeting with "Him who Stares but Scares" went well (once it actually happened), and teh feedback from "Him the Non Communicative" was much better. But both of them commented on one thing that I have to take into consideration.

Ok that is fine but are they seeing something in my proposal that I am not cause I cant figure out exactly why I have to address that point. I study one kind of group of countries and they want me to address an issue in another (non similar) grouping of countries. HUH? I'll address it of course but I cant figure this out, it is confusing me.

I have those days in which I feel like everyone else around me can see my life but me I haven’t a clue where the trees are for the forest- its all just a big glob of green. Don’t get me wrong I like green, I wear it lots and am told it makes my eyes look an even prettier green- bringing it out more, but really I feel like I am oblivious to my own life. Not like I am disassociating and disconnecting from my life and watching it happen, just like I haven’t a clue and am going along through it bumbling my way through.

2004-08-01T14:17:00.000+02:00

Indian-giver:
Maybe no Versailles today. I know I should go. I should get up off my expanding ass (I am no longer in the land of enforced diet- I mean come on what is up with the British and the love of Mayo?? Does it get worse than Egg and Mayo concoctions? Unfortunately yes but I still want to ask them: do you know that mayo is egg mixed with oil?? Serve me some more cholesterol on my plate please) and just GO.

But I am having a proclivity to working on the research and being that I have about 4000 words to write in about 10 days and I still have to get my shit together and figure out some data too... I figure I should ride that wave and not let it pass.

It is sad to say but it must be done and it must be said- There is always next month.

2004-07-31T15:35:00.000+02:00

Lazy Lazy Saturday:
I woke up late and I finished reading the Hobbit this morning. Great book though it seems as though parts of it were in the Lord Of the Rings movies. I kind of thought to myself what to do? I am going to have to figure out my new set of patterns and I need to establish them ASAP.

But the best thing about the guy I am subletting from, he has a VCR and huge collection of movies. The best ones... He has the MUPPETS!! HELL YEAH BABY!! I am watching the Muppets but in the French. And that is entertaining. The Swedish chef ROCKS. Pigs in Space KICK ASS. Rudolf Nereyev is HOTTER than all HELL, Elton John wore some seriously CRAZY outfits and all is good. Except Miss Piggy is Peggy la cochonne (i.e. Peggy the Pig). That just doesn’t really work as well for me. But still it makes my day.

I am going to relax a bit and then try to work on some of the books that I checked out and get my outline structure a bit more under control. Wheeee welcome back to a glamorous Parisian life.

But let me say again: my flat rocks! I have the Pink Panther DVD’s!! But the best culture "revolution" was with only the local channels I sat and vegged in front of the TV working on my "Soul" knitting (a tube top- which I don’t think is going right as I am not seeing the side angled ribbing show up- but my cables are pretty. And it really doesn’t count as vegetation time when you are throwing fits over trying to read the stupid pattern and pay attention to what you are doing. Not intuitive AT ALL).

TV has the dual effect of reacclimatizing myself to French, but even better I get to watch Knightrider! Motherfucking, Knightrider with David Hasselhoff and the talking Camaro. Oh yes the things I grew up on in my youth. Kicker was this episode was called Dance Mania. It was brilliant showed those cheesy dance outfits we wore (think Olivia Newton John- Let's Get Physical) the big and I mean big hair, the whiplash dancing and then showed the Ahnuld idiots of Venice Beach in their Speedo and cropped net tops (who the fuck EVER thought that was hot?). I was in hysterics the whole time.

After which I watched two shows before falling asleep that I am guessing never made it past the first half of the season in the states and had no one that I recognized from anything which is not saying much as I am not a complete pop culture queen. One is called Jake 2.0 (think Bionic-Man only newer and well with higher technology) and then the other was Mutant X (think X-Men but not as cool or cult like).

Come on good loving TV, it helps the langugae acclimatisation and skills; dont you know. And since tomorrow is the first Sunday of the month and most everything is free I think I am going to head out to Versailles! So work today and fun tomorrow.

2004-07-30T15:41:00.000+02:00

How Many Ways Exist To Kill And Prepare A Frenchman?
Anyone have any idea how quick quirky/cute goes to chauvinist/annoying? From 0-60 mph in less than 0.06 seconds! I am currently counting the ways (and accepting any suggestions) of how to kill and prepare a Frenchman to serve on a fine silver platter. In less than three days I have gone from hopeful (delusionally so if I say so myself) to homicidal.

First the prat goes sending me in that ever so adorable condescending French way emails with comments about how I don’t speak French. Making assumptions that make an ass out of him for sure. I cop it aint perfect, but it’s enough. The man really does have the attention span/memory about the size of a gnat's snatch! I only took all my classes in French wrote my papers in French and sat through a class that he co-taught in French. I introduced myself in French, I responded to questions, and fuck that I got them RIGHT. And guess what if you havent followed teh thread, I did all of that IN FRENCH. But I don’t speak the language, GAH. So take that you little prick, I can do the job, I even have a better ability given my knowledge of the system, and I speak French! It may not be pretty all the time and I can’t always understand you and your lisp but I speak the bloody language.

Then the idea of roasting him alive came to mind, see he put off commenting or sending me ANYTHING on my proposal for 2 whole months. Even better two days before we meet he sends an email asking why are we meeting again? GREAT way to make me feel like I have any of your attention, besides when you stare at my chest. Besides the fact that we have only met ONCE… We are meeting you brilliant ASS because you are my ADVISOR, and you haven’t advised me of a damn thing. I am at sea and you need to step up and do your fucking J-O-B or Travaux if you prefer. Say ANYTHING in the form of a comment on my research/writing PLEASE!!

Today’s homicidal thought was provoked by the fact that he wanted to meet today without having read my latest work (what will the meeting be worth??) and then after changing the time on me yesterday he was 45 minutes late. 30 minutes into it I heard him talking and saw those legs walking up the stairs- I was in such utter amazement that I was speechless. Every time we have a meeting I specifically put myself at his feet saying what ever time is convenient for you. We made this meeting a MONTH ago- now you have a doctors appointment and wait till the day before to tell me (by the way he is not ill) and then you don’t show when I come to the later time that yes he CHOSE. Is it any wonder that I dream of hacking the man to bits with my WMD (that is according to the UK, according to me they are dull school children scissors).

Then cause of my infinite patience (or joy in dreaming of murdering him) he shows three seconds before I am about to leave. He looks at me like oh was I supposed to meet with you, please hold on I need to do something down the hall. Then he returns and says "you propose we should meet on Monday?" Why yes, I suggested that so you could actually read my submission and make decent comments. We go to his office to reschedule- he opens his EMPTY day planner- seriously the calendar has not a damn thing written in on it, and then asks me if I can come back in two hours. I being the ever so compliant one, oh yes that will not be a problem I can go to the library it is not a big deal. I mean I don’t plan my life or anything. Good thing today was a "relax" day.

Next the twat tells me the work I agreed to help him with, one of my two reasons for moving back to Paris, yeah he doesn’t need it. FUCKER you could have told me that AGES ago, its not like I haven’t asked about it and continually volunteered or anything. I wanted that to help frame my time you know, GRRRRR.

Oh the JOYS of the Quirky French- not to mention he is taking the 3rd through the 10th as holiday (without email access), not like he didn’t just get back from 3 weeks of vacation on Monday or anything. And he wonders why I haven’t kissed his feet yet. I’ll show his pompous ass, constantly responding to his English in my French. Take that! Yes I am proud of teh fact that I take immense pleasure in the confused looks it inspires.

So I show up again on time (miracles of all miracles) and he says oh can you wait 30 more minutes. Sure why not?? What the fuck is time any more anyways?? And once again no saying sorry for being late. Don’t French Mamans teach their little boys manners? Not in Normandy it seems.

He comes out to get me from the hall of isolation and being that chivalrous gentleman he is, opens the door for me. Oh Merci. Then as we walk into the office he makes the comment that Americans hate the tardiness of French professors. I make a snide comment in French- I am not a typical or complete American, I am a Spanish-American (in that order) and I just came from Italy; my idea of late is a bit different than the average. WHY OH WHY do I put up with this shit??

Then he again says to me should we speak in French or English? Comme vous voulez, you shit I can do this in either language. I am stubborn pissed about it now. I almost said French to push him but I am playing the plaçant female role and let him choose (very bad feminist I know). Though since I am writing in English and you are reading in English it might be easier on you... idiot!

At the end of it he charmed me again (what is it with quirky Frenchmen, brilliant ones with blue eyes? I mean I let him get away with murder!) He made some good comments, said nice things about what I was choosing and told me I was in the heart of current research (i.e. this should get me a PhD invitation if I actually did the work to get around what I am arguing).

Great and then I go look like dizzy galore as I have had 3 hours of sleep and been waiting oh FIVE hours to do this bloody meeting. But he fucks up his English and well that makes me smile. Even better he says ok we can set a meeting to meet again when I get back in two weeks and you, you go write. Goodie, I get to meet him again and I will be better prepared to milk that man for all he is worth. I give new meaning to shake your money maker. And therefore I don’t kill him TODAY. I stay out of the French prison system for a short while longer.

One hell of an adventure :)

2004-07-29T12:21:00.000+02:00

Leaving On a Jet Plane:
Wow three weeks ago I had no clue how I was going to survive all this bouncing. I was dreading and looking forward to it at the same time. And here I am survivor of it all on my last day before returning to Paris, the place I can best label right now as "home." Once again I surprise myself and things have fallen just so into place for me, I dont know how or why but there it is.

Oh good and great food gods, the UK may not be the land of great food (though I guess you can find good curries here if that is what you like and can afford) but I found me Bagels today. Good honest real bagels. Never you mind that they call round bits of bread rolls bagels, I found the real thing. The delectable things you find in the Jewish quarters slathered with Salmon and cream cheese spread! Never you mind that the British want to call them Canadian bagels (WTF??) I found them and they are cheap! Today for lunch, dinner and most likely tomorrow’s breakfast, we will be eating bagels, cream cheese and drinking the nectar of the gods- cranberry juice. AHHHHHHH.

I ran my last tourist trip into the City. I headed to Westminster and wandered through the Abbey. I could have spent longer there but I was on a bit of a time schedule. I also found myself Lush. I love that place!! So many wonderful products, the massage oil bars I think are my favorite as they can be used to moisturize and sent the body and I love them. If I have one girly weakness (I think I have a few but this is one I will completely cop to) it is that I am a product whore/queen. Lush is one of my Mecca’s, and I deserve a treat after Hunger Strike 2004.

I haven’t seen all the touristy things I want to in the City. Some I limited myself from simply out of taste (Madame Tussaud’s No thank you!) some out of cost (cost for value- i.e. Buckingham Palace, and plain old cost for things like the London Eye), and some well out of time (Tower and Tower bridge). And to be honest after two straight weeks of it and being plagued by the Italians (they have invaded!) I am tired and touristed out.

I also have avoided doing near as much of the real work that I need to do (working on my draft) and it is time to go "home." I honestly feel like I can say that I have actually been to London, and I have friends to come back and visit and I have more than enough things to do so I headed back to the house to pick up my things and trek to the airport.

Again I am terrified of a repeat event of my flight to this island. But I got there about two hours early and checked in. was surrounded in the lounge by twenty or so 15 year old Chinese kids as I was trying to switch my mind into French. And I waited, tired to the bone and dreaming of getting to the phenomenal flat I will be subletting for a while. I simply want to get there and be able to drop my things somewhere where they will stay for at least the next 30 days. To get back to a life as normal as I can hope for soaking up every bit of atmosphere, opportunity, cheese, wine and anything else I can soak up, not to mention that huge To Do list that is looming over my head and been compiling, compounding and, expanding while I have been on island exile.

And then my flight is delayed. Why is it that timing is never on my side a delay on the way in wouldn’t have bothered me in the least on the way out it bit the big one. I didn’t get to the airport with my luggage etc until well after midnight. And then it was only by jumping the turnstiles that I caught the last RER into town. At least I got the ride for free saving myself the cost of a taxi :) and well it does go straight to the new flat.

I really hope that I have good comments and assistance coming from "Him Who Stare and Scares" in our meeting tomorrow as I am about to sequester myself for about two weeks of some serious work and having a slight bit of help well it would mean the world to me right now. Unfortunately I am going to have to try and make this meeting work on only 4 hours of sleep I am guessing, we’ll see if I can manage to string words together and grasp what he says.

2004-07-28T12:33:00.000+02:00

Luck be a Lady:
I am so lucky. I went to go meet a friend and thought I had enough time but I got lost and pointed in the wrong direction and well ended up being an hour late. I am so lucky Mel waited! So we finally met up at the V&A which has the looks of a great museum but much was not open. Yeah during summer (i.e. tourist season) I know. It is an extremely interesting museum. Where else can you see a replica of Trajan’s Column in two pieces? It is also seriously a cluttered collection of eccentric mish and mash. Unfortunately most of the things I wanted to see (like the jewelry) were under renovation (jewelry for the next 4 years!). We then wandered down to Westminster but since I didn’t feel like obliging Mel to pay 7 quid to see the insides with me, we went to get something to eat and then wandered to "shop."

OH-MI-GOD did I find the most AWESOME department store. I fell in LOVE with Liberty, one of the more expensive ones of course (cause I mean TopShop is supposed to be reasonably priced- really it is an overpriced with a few more labels H&M!). Interesting building and phenomenal lines of products. I have had a love for Korres products for a while (vanilla cinnamon- to die for) and now I can add New Flower to the mix with Italian Blood Orange. This is trouble people big trouble. If I were rich I would be in so deep there! Never let it be said that I don’t have taste.

We then went to the best Sparklies (jewelry and diamond for those not in the know) arcade in London. Looked at them and then went into Tiffany’s. I want the little blue box! We pretended to be posh enough for Mayfair etc but in reality we are posh enough but not rich enough.

It was great and I had a lot of fun. I have to say though I am at the end of my ends on this "trip." Staying at Iria’s house has been great as I finally feel like I am at "home" again. The problem being is that it has sapped my desire to see a whole list of things in London. I want to "be home" and try to recover from all of this. And I have a bit more time until I can do that and even then it may not be for as long as I would like.

So between saying good bye to Mel and heading back to the house I checked my email. I know that there is a portion of this which is most likely the language but seriously I got me one pomp and pretentious email from my French advisor. He really is bit by bit agitating me more and more. He made some comment about my French. Now it isn’t pretty and it isn’t perfect I will give you that, but I can speak the language. Just because you chose to speak English with me does NOT mean I cannot speak French you TWAT!

Anyway I came back to the house, cooked dinner (one of my few decent evening dinners since being in the UK minus when I was staying with Wyn and Maggie) and worked a bit on the draft before I read the Economist to beddy-bye.

2004-07-27T13:04:00.000+02:00

The Day I Became An Eastender:
Turns out since I know NOTHING of direction or location that Iria is in the Eastend. And so I went to the local market that kind of was like the Eastenders show. Hawkers everywhere selling all the things that I don’t need, or really want.

But today was a relaxed day as I really am trying to recover some. As much as I want to see London, I also don’t want to hit everything like a crazed tourist and remember none of it. So today I simply wandered without pressure. I window shopped and I wandered some more.

It was exactly what the doctore ordered. And while I wish I might have done my London time in teh beginning when I probably would have been more gung-HO, I like how the broad "trip" has gone and well like I said I am enjoying myself. I really like it here and I love walking.

2004-07-26T13:08:00.000+02:00

La Vie Moderne:
I woke up, got ready and checked out of THE GENERATOR. I am a bit paranoid about leaving my stuff here, but I found this great hiding spot that should hopefully keep thieves away from my things. With that Swahti and I went wandering the town. We walked the whole of the Southbank. From the London Eye to the Tate Modern, which by the way let me count the ways I love that museum.

There are a fair amount of people who like to claim that modern art is just a bunch of shit and after today’s visit I feel pity for them. What stupid assumptions those who label a whole with out seeing the contents are. The ignorance, small minded intolerance and narrow-minded nature of those who are prejudiced with out knowledge or who cant get past their own preconceived jails of notions has always amazed me.

I saw some absolutely phenomenal art, some making a statement (there is a great Anti-Thatcher one on her policies that further chew up the "working poor" as "trash"), and some as commentary on life. There is cubist art, Dali of course, and even Manet! I guess if you want to be that narrow-minded and if you consciously make that decisions I can only pity you for the shallow existence of a life you have.

To never liberate your mind and imagination from conventional values and traditional ways of thinking is one of the worst futures I could imagine. To never have significance and value the mysterious and provocative effect of unexpected conjunctions. Life is in large part a pushing of the boundaries and having a lack of tolerance and inability to appreciate those who do what you yourself are often not willing to do is quite sad to me. I am so glad to have a broad enough mind to enjoy the Tate and its Art.

After which we ran to get our things and make our respective moves. Myself I wish I had had time to go to a photography exhibit that was half price at the Hayward. Will have to hope for next time :) Instead I hopped a bus to Iria’s was told to get off at the wrong stop and carried all my shit down what felt like forever of Old Ford Rd. I am going to guess it was at least 2 miles.

Thank the gods that there was a nice park lining the road and a very sweet man who heard me and my squeaking luggage a mile away being so kind as to take oil from his motorcycle and oil my wheels. SQUEAK be gone! Now I too can walk up like a hobbit. Good thing I like walking and had a previous life as a pack mule. My rule: don’t pack it if you can’t carry it.

Iria is an AWESOME Italian that I met at the working group meeting who after meeting and talking in Italian with I had a friend for life. I also had a place to crash a garden to sit in and wiener dog to play with. It is great, a real bed and sleep glorious sleep.

2004-07-25T13:28:00.000+02:00

Paranoia At 5 AM:
After my incident in Paris it is simple to say that I am paranoid about flight travel. But I have "passive tendencies." So I woke up super duper early (much thanks to the hostel night man who thought 6:30 am was at 5:30 am- that and the fact that the light comes early in Edinburgh anyways. I still managed to panic thanks to the airport putting something stupid like Departed on my flight information.

And of course since I am panicking, asking to cut in line and everything else, then the security people have to go through and pick my bag to search. Again my weapons of mass destruction have been foiled- those extremely dangerous kiddie school scissors that I use for my knitting they are now property of the Edinburgh airport. They asked me if I wanted to go back and check them. Yeah since I jumping on you about my flight leaving with out me, sure I want to go back to get in the check in line try to find something to check the scissors in and then come back through the security line again. That sounds right. NO.

I made my flight (it was late) and I got my luggage- last piece off as always. I headed to THE GENERATOR. This place is like quite no other. It’s the total backpackers hostel, mostly for the under 20’s with a bar in the building and 836 beds (that were all "full" the night before). It feels like some kind of prison with the way that they have numbers on the concrete ceiling beams and the locks on the doors and all. I crashed when I got in and took a small nap and then forced myself up and out.

I met up with Swahti and we went to the British Museum- the museum of all the things the British have stolen. I saw the Elgin Parthenon Marbles. AMAZING and appalling at the same moment (appalling that they aren’t in Greece- and the whole we take care of them better argument holds jack shit as the “restoration” removed the original Greek finish).

We went and got dinner. I had Chinese fried egg rice. Might not sound like much but it was good and just what hit the spot of a certain craving. I must give odes to the glorious cranberry juice I can obtain and afford in the UK. Makes me smile when I hand over my pound. And after talking with Swahti about India we both crashed out

2004-07-24T13:32:00.000+02:00

Me In A Kilt Doing A Giggle:
Really this has got to be one of the best hostels! My kind of people and again today I met up with a sweet girl. It is great as I am not a loving the lone life traveler, so it has been perfect. Swahti is from New Delhi and turns out we will be in London at the same hostel for one night. So we went to the Royal Portrait Gallery together, checked email and agreed to meet up the next day.

Then I headed to Holyrood Palace. If I could suggest one thing to choose, Holyrood gets points over the castle hands down. Nicer, more content, less packed and the Queen lives there. After having read the Mary Queen of Scots book earlier this year it was a great hit. Just the right amount of historical with all the other bits melded in which made for a nice visit. And teh Abbey Ruins are gorgeous.

Afterwards you are at the base of the volvanic remains in Edinburgh- Old Smokey. And winds and clouds be damned I decided I needed a good Scottish outdoors naturist adventure. I climbed Arthur’s Seat. Best thing I did for my sanity I think. It is great to be outdoors with a nice decent hike. I felt like I was in the Scottish Countryside (maybe the highlands- I don’t know what they are like) and it was great fun.

I had no clue where I was going, what path of the many available to take; I just knew to go UP. And steep up, the huffing and puffing kind of steep angles for a good part of it too. But UP is not as intuitive as it seems. At a few different points I wondered if I was going the "right" way, as if there were only one of them. There may be only one MY way, but there are tons of "right" ways. I for whatever reason though took the approach that if I went the "wrong" way well oh well I would figure it out from there- when ever I got there, some way to get back to the "right" way.

But really the fact is that "wrong" or not whatever way I was going was the RIGHT way for ME. And each time I thought I was going the "wrong" way, or thought do I really need to go to the top? I would turn the corner and be rewarded with a beautiful vista into town (with grey moisture filled clouds pouring over), of countryside or some other great fun.

The wind was whooping up a serious batch of force and every time I was sure it was telling me you have gone as far as you are meant to, the Seat is not yours to conquer for today. I was sure that the wind was going to take and give new meaning to the phrase three quarters to the wind (with me praying that no lightning or stupid Ben Franklin kid came along) and I was sure I was fighting the loosing battle against this wind pushing me away; Voilà it would flip and push me up over the top encouraging me on to move faster than my legs wanted to carry me.

In the end I got to the top and have a photo of me in the blustery wind supporting my angled body and another blasting into my coat and making me look preggers or bloated in the "inflatable" shirt. And when I went to climb down, I had been so into my fun with the wind that I didn’t know the way down to follow. I couldnt remeber the way I had come.I of ourse have the general direction of DOWN but that is it. I tried one way but seemed to be alone and though maybe this isnt it. Next I saw someone else going the other way so I decided to follow him. Stength in numbers and all, unless he has long legs and goes too fast for you.

I think one of life’s biggest lessons to me is to learn to trust myself and my instincts. Once I do that I think I will have passed one hell of a hurdle, but instead I leaped over a different hurdle today. I went what could be labeled as the "wrong" way. No if ands or buts about it- there was no trail marked with pavers or rocks and for parts of it it was the "hill3 I was trying to terrain myself down. And there was no one besides this tall man off in the distance going this way.

I was crab walking certain portions of this steep descent down. It was starting to pelt at me those misty droplets of water combined with the gales of wind. And every time the fear of the dangers in the "wrong" way got to me something bubbled up in me and I would laugh. I would run in the bits of the hills going down on the grass bouncing along, I would giggle as the rocks slid out from underneath my feet and plopped me unceremoniously on my derriere. Giggling like I haven’t in a while, almost crazily but not quite. And each time I assplowed I promptly giggled, got up dusted myself off, assessed what I was going to do next and giggled some more.

And next thing I knew there I was full circle at the path that was the "right" way, all the better for the journey.

2004-07-23T14:17:00.000+02:00

Rio Madness:
So what would I wake up to this morning but three Brazilian men in my room. It’s amazing who you never know what will happen when the lights come on in a dorm room. Friendly as they are, and groggy as I am they chatted a bit with me and invited me to go touristing with them.

Against my wallet's better judgment I joined. We went to the castle which really is a "I can miss it if you want to rip me a new one," type of place. But I figured it was a nice idea for fun. And you know what I had a great day and I even managed to eat decently. Amazing how two three quarters of meals do the trick when you are starved. Cheap chicken (lime and coriander) sandwich will make you a lot happier than you think.

I showed them a bit around what I had traveled through yesterday. We hit the Royal museum and then came back to the hostel. Chatted away there and as an indication of the level of exhaustion crashed right there.

Things have caught up a bit. Not as bad as I had feared however, there nonetheless.

2004-07-22T15:28:00.000+02:00

Hullo Scotland:
Luck seems to be on my side (I am sure that since I just said that without a red oak near me I will jinx myself but I am going to enjoy the moment while I can) and it must be a serious sign in support of my appearance on this renegade isle… the SUN is out. That is almost a never happening event in Scotland, and I got it! Actually while I am tempting the fates and fairies, I have actually had a good run of weather fairy luck. The days of "cold" and drizzle have come on days when I wanted them and for the better part of my time I have had quite comfortable weather intermittently shined upon by the big yellow orb in the sky.

I am also quite lucky in the itinerary I have set for me, Edinburgh is a lovely town that is centrally packed and easily accessible. This is perfect for me as I am traveling on my own and I actually like to walk. It is perfect for wandering and wandering I did. A bit less expensive than its nasty invaders down south, I had a quite pleasant day. I took a photo of Greyfriar’s Bobby- like any self-respecting terrier owner would and frequented the lovely museum of Scottish history (from the beginning of time- quite an interesting set of exhibits!)

I also thought that the Brits were friendly and eccentric, but in all honesty they have NOTHING on the Scots. I encountered more than one person today just walking up to have a chat with me. Some were odd- like the guy handing out music fliers in St. Giles (telling him I wasn’t Christian seemed to send him on his way), to the homeless hawker saying catching pull lines such as- "Anyone give a shit," and then barking at the tourists by the Greyfriar’s Bobby statue. But I love it in general. I could easily live here (given that I could afford it actually). I even managed to get wrangled into going out.

I am staying at the best middle ground hostel I think I have ever found. Nice smallish, clean, range of ages, and travel styles. So what do I run into in Scotland? More throngs of Italians. What is it an invasion or something?? Anyways there were four guys two 19 year olds and two late 30 year olds. And after dinner where they figured out I speak Italian, I was coerced into going out to see what was on in the town.

We found an Irish pub as one of them had an obsession about going to a pub and it was actually quite nice. One of the 30+ bought me a drink, though I think he thought that a pint of strong bow bought rights to me for the night. He pouted when I was dancing with anyone else, tried to put his arm around me when the bassist of the live music band looked like he was flirting with me and in general annoyed me. So I ignored him, flirted back with the bassist, shrugged away when he tried to be too touchy feely and well let him drink his pint. I am not THAT cheap, even when on an empty stomach. After the pub shut down I begged off as really I think I am an old soul and my body said enough was enough, not to mention I was sure to get pawed if I didn’t escape then. And night of rest sounded quite appealing...

2004-07-21T12:55:00.000+02:00

Working Group Meeting Day:
Today is the whole reason I am in this country spending a godforsaken amount of money that I don’t have. I know I am financially obsessed. This is the first time in my life I have been more in debt than I am able to pay off in any one instance and yes it freaks me but seriously the UK is COMPLETELY OUT OF CONTROL!

Anyways, today you know what... it was worth it. I got to see old friends, make new ones- like the ones who offer a floor to kip on in London!!!! And speak up to the nodding heads of two well respected authors in the field. I may not be able to incorporate the working group research into my "first generation" research, but it will come in at some future point- that I can guarantee. It is a broad area of my interest and the first generation expands quite nicely with the inclusion of the second generation research information.

After the meeting we headed to the station, sharing a taxi with one of the aforementioned intellectuals, and what do you know she picked up the taxi tab. None of us graduate students money was good for someone who has the benefit of an expense report that she can bill it to (fond memories of expense reports from bygone times...), so we got a nice little treat. I then ran in my lovely kitten heels all the way to the hostel (which was about a quarter of a mile. If I can't move in the shoe it doesn’t go on my foot, though I am sure I was quite the sight).

I picked up my goods, only to notice that my NorthFace fleece had been stolen. And then with my squeaky luggage trotted back to the station. Nothing I can do about the fleece, it was old-ish anyways so it’s now on the Christmas list- one NorthFace Denali Fleece Jacket Santa PLEASE. I said my goodbyes and sent Hester on her way back to London.

Ran into a new friend chatted till I sent her on her way to London also and then hopped on my train to Edinburgh with prayers and offerings of one pence for decent weather, because if I was going to need the fleece on this trip- Edinburgh was going to be the place.

The train ride gave me time for contemplation and a bit of work and reading; it was almost 5 hours you know. The last hour was absolutely magnificent. For the first bit I was watching the English countryside go by. Interesting in its own right, though the rolling hills in colors of varying shades in green, brown and straw long ago started to meld into one.

But as we crossed the border into Scotland I perked up. The sparkle of blue caught a glint in my eye and I stood up to see the most beautiful coastline. I was quite simply absorbed. I love the water and the dramatic cliffs and colors of the Scottish coast peppered with rolling fields sprinkled with pockets of magenta colored heather that sucked me right in. At that exact moment I fell in love, I stood and watched it pass by peeking at me on occasion, disappearing to my disappointment and reappearing to my utter joy. I remained standing for the next hour to see as much of it as I could take in with the dusk slowly approaching, purple haze off in the distant sky and a faint line of yellow going with it.

And then at almost 11pm I arrived in Edinburgh all lit up in it's night time amber glory. For every expense I have and will most likely continue to bitch about, this makes each one of them much more worth it. I am completely exhausted after a night of less sleep, a day of work, and a long trip to get here... but it’s worth the contentment.

2004-07-20T13:01:00.000+02:00

Tra-La-La-La La-La-La-LA:
More wandering and more searching for the free things to do in town and combining that with the best piece of organic carrot cake I have ever had for only 80 pence. That I will totally splurge for!

There was little bit less sun so I spent a better part of the day at the Fitzwilliam museum which is well worth the visit and gloriously free. I also wiggled my way with a nice Hiya (how English people seem to say hello to everyone) into a closed college for free, and was called luv by the adorable gardener.

And while I didn’t sleep much last night, I thought and early night call might be in order. I used the slowest and most expensive internet known to man. Seriously this thing made 24Kbbs look like it was moving at the speed of the Daytona 500. After which I went to find me a proper internet point. I can’t seem to find any here in the UK with a USB hub. Easyeverything tricks you- having one but not allowing you to access it and the smaller towns well some have computers that look like they are the age of my Commodore 64.

Instead I sat at this great café, with a barista who reminded me of my dear friend Clare at home who is one of those I want to have that sense of calm, peace, whatever it is- sign me up auras. The place had a great vibe, with really tuned music. It was perfect so I stuck around, did some reading and fleshed out a bit more my thesis draft. And next thing I knew it was time for the "Cambridge Forum." A grass roots meeting group with a hippie tinge, that COMPLETELY made me feel like I was back in Seattle.

Even nicer I left with a tinge of hope. I have been for years at utter ends about the Israeli situation. The speaker/singer/hippie guy who was the focus of this month’s forum was a former Israeli military officer who works to help young people (mostly boys as girls have a lot of outs- even if they are supposed to be more egalitarian there and all) "avoid" the "compulsory" service. He also provides support to conscientious observers who are sticking to their moral guns. He said all the things I never thought I would ever hear coming from the mouth of an orthodox Jewish Israeli, and gave me one glimmer of hope. I will ever be grateful for that single ray to him.

Adding to that, I even got hit on! Not my type but nice enough guy who being the posh British gentlemen and all walked me back to the hostel and gave me a peck on the cheek. Work done, play had, and relaxation indulged. Life doesn’t seem too bad today. Maybe I can do this whole human thing after all...

2004-07-19T13:08:00.000+02:00

Whoa Nellie!:
HOLY HELL is this place EXPENSIVE. $38, ₤20 or €30, for an 8 bed dorm in a hostel!!! That is right almost $40 to sleep with 7 other people and no orgy included. To make up for that though there are 25 Dutch teenagers marauding through the building making all sorts of noises and commotion at all hours of the day.

I am also on the new pocketbook diet otherwise known as Hunger Strike 2004. I refuse to pay 8 quid for a plate of pasta with pesto or 3 quid for a sarnie with cabbage that looks like a firecracker was blown up in it and they are holding all the bits together with the largest amount of Mayonnaise known to man, (the glue of all things edible in the UK it seems). Utterly revolting! I will starve before paying $6 for that.

It is amazing though how economical I can be. It’s almost like a game. I know you arent supposed to do the exchange calculations, but seriously if I didnt I would be in one seriously deep hole. And I must say that it is doing wonders for my finicky food habits. Amazing how when you are really are hungry, you will eat more, or at least try more than you think. And the bits you used to sniff at though you would eat weren’t normally interested in... well those get eaten too.

At least if I am going to go hungry I can do so in reading pleasure as I found the Hobbit today at a flea market for ₤1. That is something I would spend the money for. It is also my first Tolkien book. I hope it lives up to its legend.

Otherwise... I am enjoying Cambridge. It is small, accessible, and I am trying to relax. I know I should be working but relaxing sounds much better, and you wonder how I am doing on my way to a graduate degree in procrastination?? The best part of today is that the weather has perked up and I am in a skirt and t-shirt!

The old colleges (a very odd university system indeed) are quite gorgeous, though a bit pretentious for my likes sometimes. There is history everywhere, and though punting was too expensive for me to put it on my "To Do" list, the banks are a relaxing place to go lay in the grass absorbing any amount of the rays of sun I can. Pale skin be damned and cancer be welcomed.

However there is little else to do in Cambridge. I am sure there are pubs somewhere with pissed tourists (cause they are crawling all over the town) but I quite fancy the idea of a "night in" where I watch some TV and try to pretend that I am not moving my shit every night, that I am not paying an insane amount for something of lesser quality than it's value at that price. A place that I have some sense of permanence and security.

2004-07-11T19:58:00.000+02:00

My Name is John Jingleheimerschmidt:
I love when I get all sorts of spam mail. Well I dont like the spam mail about making my penis bigger that just gives me a complex (I spend the rest of the day repeatedly looking in my skirt muttering about how I dont have a penis- so how can I make it bigger. Affirming to those who pay any attention to the odd woman muttering to her skirt, that I dont want my penis any bigger!). In general however, most Spam makes me laugh. It is so odd an inane, it breaks the montony of those great three sentence, three word emails I get from "Him the Non-Communicative."

Also, I dont understand the spam concept- most of it is completely intelligible. What do they think they are going to get out of it? I mean am I going to click on some random gibberish message about getting free mortgage rates, and expect anything other than a computer virus or porn shot to come up on my screen? Nah. Who pays for software to propel this shit? I dont know, if you do you might be on the next step of Buddhahood enlightenment. Feel free to share with me.

Today has taken the cake. I have gotten all sorts of spam with the garden variety "See Britney Spears with a Horse" emails for years now. (That ought to get me some great google hits!) But that shit is always in the subject line. The names are such rich and culturally diverse names as "hiusyopas," "ssthialeos" and Amber. It usually goes into the junk folder but everyonce in a blue moon, it comes into the inbox. Today's spam was from the following sender's "name":

1 GND Conventional clothing means nothing. In the new tarot, the standard figure is nude, to show that all is revealed. The cloak of the Renewer implies something hidden. Only the Speaker's feet are covered

If anyone can make two cents of that I will hand my last two over.

Should it help the subject was "Bedrooom miracle forr men nnnd" and the senders actual email address (should you want a "Bedroom miracle forr men nnnd") is usfyuen-tak@znvflerangile.com

2004-07-09T10:36:00.000+02:00

Write Sam Damnit:
Revue performance requested, revue performance delivered. I got up late, which I had hoped I wouldnt do, then I was a twat and looked at the wrong schedule, but I managed to get myself out the door and on the way to Florence.

What I have recently learned is that part of this whole road to Academia is trailed with trips for meeting people, creating a network and connections. And they are worth their weight in gold. If you cant tell I am working hard at this whole network thing and it is paying off a bit. If people extend, I go. You do NOT turn them down.

And as if the fairies knew this was a time in life where I needed entertainment and humor, I rode the long bus (normally I am a short bus passenger!). When I say long I mean that instead of 1:15 trip, I took a 1:45 trip. It seemed like a better option, 30 minutes in AC bus, or 30 minutes in sun... Long bus it is. And let me tell you it had entertainment value and kindness.

So I got to go through my favorite named town Poggibonsi. Reminds me of a combo between Pogo Stick and Bonsai- yeah I am weird, are you only now picking up on that? Sheesh you are slower than I am! And then to add to the Poggibonsi humor this mid 50s man gets on, very nice seeming and me out of my half napping stupor smiles and he starts talking in Italian to me like no one before. Asking all sorts of questions. Had most of this been done in English I would have shut him down much earlier but why not use my Italian- loosen the standards for the inner bitch a bit.

Next thing I knew it was time to get off the bus, and the 80 year old man who I had smiled at was giving my hand on the railing a squeeze and a big smile. (Smiles people they are worth everything) And the mid 50's guy was asking me if I had any luggage to get. I was like no, but thank you (all nice and chivalrous shit and all). I start my walk with a purpose way over to the local bus station, and he decideds to follow me continuing to chat. Ok whatever its only a block or two. As I got ready to cross, he started asking me when I would be in town. I explained I was moving (I am not lying people I can show you the lead ladden bags!) and then he asks for my number. BANG I am a winner with the 50 and over crowd, Hit #1. Go girl!

That was entertaining enough, but I continued on to have my special love affair with the library that has rolling Tuscan hill views, my own desk, smells of jasmine, path with blackberries, and BOOKS ON THE SHELVES!! And of course just as I become enough of a fixture there and start seeing the same people, they decide to start talking with me, and what am I doing- leaving. I wish I were staying and making friends! Just as you make the community you leave it behind- I really dont like this pattern. One of the girls finally actually talked with me today. She is really nice, and she thought I was Irish. well I look it and Dad is, so Ill take it. Then another girl talked with me and she was astonished when I told her I lived in the states- as she said I have a distinctly British sounding accent. I dont buy it but Ill take it. I mean who would have thunk it? And then cute library boy finnaly decides to talk with me too. Timing people I am SHITE at it.

But I must say the best entertainment was on the way to my meeting. So European campuses are a bit spread out, so I was walking up the hill from Badia, and low and behold this car comes blazing up and around the corner. We were at the main crossroads (which doesnt say much as this town doesnt even have an actual stop sign) and he rolls down his window, yelling "Centro." Something about me says "ask her." I get asked directions etc in a multitude of languages at all times most anywhere I am. So I say back which center- Fiesole or Firenze? Firenze- ok that way. Thanks, you're welcome. And the sinker my friends- "Do you want a ride into town?" Aww I must look all hot and sweaty here in my grubby t-shirt dress today cause for those of you counting that was hit numero due. I said no and giggled on my way to the bar.

Can I tell you how great it is in Europe- you have meetings like this and you go out for drinks, liquor- sign me up! It gets even better as often though I offer, who ever I am meeting with picks up the tab! So I meet with Dawn for a beer/wine and chat. Dawn the lovely person that she is helped me to go past some of my insecurities and academic peril. But really she helped with my need for more wine to mellow me out some, and drain away from the frustrations I am having with the Financial Aid people (I issue a Fatwah on you, and you know who you are!).

I may not feel like I exactly belong yet, but joining the Academic commmunity I am finding myself surronded with some of the best people around at all levels. She managed to help me to take off some of the "You must create an original ground breaking theory" pressure (save that for the PhD). And I am feeling a bit happier about it all.

She also quite kindly called me on my shit and said it is time for me to stop using my lack of a question as a reason not to write and only research. I am muddling the picture and if I start writing instead of reading so damn mush which takes me on 8 different directions from Sunday- maybe just maybe the question will come. The gold mines that can come from writing should not be over looked. It is time to learn through writing. Writing feels like it is my weakest link, and it is time to get myself there and through it.

What does all that mean.... well I think I need to de-blog for a little while. I am feeling tapped out and all my resources need to be going to this dissertation. I am not sure with the next couple of hectic on the run every three days with tons of work to do schedule that I will have the wherewithall, access or energy to make consistent updates. So for anyone who notices, I wont be posting that often. I may choose to write while I am on the road and retro-post them, but as a warning there will probably be bigger post gaps and windfalls for a while.

But to leave the post with a smile, I spent the whole bus ride home smiling. I am content with being here in my life for this instant. And that feels divine. I am smiling as the Tuscan hills go by and even though I wont see them again for a while I am soaking it in. I even got to make it three for three as on the bus ride home one of the extra bus drivers offered me some gum, and then as he got of the bus he winked at me and said good night.

Goodnight Gracie indeed.

2004-07-08T10:20:00.000+02:00

Scrambled Eggs Please:
My day, my life, my way. Normally I want sunny side up eggs (NOTHING better than dipping your bread in yolk!), but recently the menu has only had scrambled eggs. I am not liking them anymore than before but I am getting a bit better at eating teh meal and moving on. I can adjust, really I can. I hope...

More things are at least getting done and I can see "progress." I am feeling a bit better about it all, though there is still alot to be done and well that ostrich manoeuvre is only one head plant away. I really dont want to move. I am tired of moving. Wouldnt you know it that just as I am about to move Siena starts to grow on me and even a few of the people start to do more than grunt or look at me weird. Would it be any other way?

I have minor errands to do all coming out the wazoo, but I am feeling a bit better and small amounts of accomplishment and graciouness for having so many great people put into my life exactly when I have needed them, most of the time saying the same thing (when they can be consistent why shouldnt I believe them).

It may not clear everything, but it certainly has mitigated my current shit shower feelings. And I am determined no to let this whole ordeal get to me. This feeling of not being able to ride any up swing without getting my skull smashed in will not triumph. I will in Paris in 4 days under the Dog Damn Arc de Triumph!

That said I am about 85% ready. I have the errands, some last bits of sightseeing and packing and my last (for now) research day at EUI. Thats right folks, I had a meeting set up for me by Big Wig, so you get another edition of Fiesolani Research Wednesdays (on a Friday- minor point). It is my last (for a while) trip to EUI and I am getting a bit misty. I will miss that library with books on the FREAKING shelves!!! I will miss it more than, well more than I care to admit.

I am getting all misty eyed. I need to go find a tissue, probably one that is packed at the bottom of all my shit.

2004-07-07T10:07:00.000+02:00

UP DOWN, UP DOWN:
For the bloodly love of DOG (I am a dog lover you know- I am not however dyslexic). ENOUGH!! This whole up down thing is really making me question my whole relationship with teh life roller coaster. I know that once it is past this too will seem like something that isnt near as humongous as it seems right now, but sheesh, cant a girl get a break?

For the short part of the post, my flat for the month of August that was supposedly secured- has of course just fallen through. GREAT. SO I get to be in Paris for Bastille day and flat hunting not to mention my dissertation exam- what more of a "holiday from hell" could a girl ask for. Anyone know of a one way ticket to Bali?? I guess I should be grateful I found out now instead of the 29th, I will figure out a way to make it work I know this about myself (I just hate making things work all the time) and it is the month of August (ie the Mass Parisian Exodus) so there is a bit more than a snow balls chance in hell that I wont be ripped a new one.

I am tired though of all the whinging. I am moving, of course everything is going to clusterfuck and go wrong. I simply need to deal and work through it. No whinging is going to make it better. And constantly reviewing my return to contestant status on "Whack you with a Bat" is enough to depress even me.

So one to the good news. Meeting with BIG WIG. It actually went pretty well, actually from my perspective it went GREAT, from his well he must not have thought I was a complete ass and waste of time. He was personable, articulate (though a bit scattered, which I understand), brilliant, and accessable. He made my day.

See I have been seriously jonesing for some interpersonal contact if you get my drift (wink wink nudge nudge). I have been needing to bounce my ideas off of someone who knows enough to point out the obvious to me, cause lets face it folks, I am detailed to the max and as oblivious as they come. That is me the hyper opposites at any time at the same time.

He was able to talk with me, set me straight on something that my US advisor (He the Non-Communicative and important one) should appreciate. He made clear that I need to take some of the pressure off. This is not an exercise to create some grand new theory: It is an exercise to get me to teh next step. To get me a good letter of recommendation. Moreover, it is to show I know the literature can consolidate it concisely and use it to support a smaller argument which can then have broader extrappolations. He was able to tell me a question and if I can capitalize on all of what he said and remember it, well it just might work!

The best part of the process was eating lunch, talking and popping out my points and having him say things which got me about 75% of the way to on track. That last 25% will be a bitch but lo and behold there is a possibility of dawn. The light I just might see it again.

He was also supportive, and even better since he is marrying an Yank academic, next year he moves to a US university. There is one man I would want on my dissertation panel. You can bet I will be applying to whatever uni he ends up at! Even better in the he probably doesnt think you are a complete ass category (well that is where I am going to put it), he gave me some contacts which he told me to use his name with (remember he is BIG WIG name, and I am NOT exaggerating on this one), he set up a meeting with another local here for me (return trip on Friday anyone?) he gave me a book of his, he told me he would be willing to look at what I put together, and he lent me his ears, his time and in the process extended a small amount of confidence. Invaluable like nothing the man could ever imagine.

I was in SERIOUS need of that human contact. I know I will come out better for the process in this program, it really does make me a better candidate, for all the bitch of frustrations it places in your way. But today was just what I needed, and about damn time too if you ask me!

2004-07-06T10:01:00.000+02:00

Finally:
Its about time that something went right. This morning when all despair was lost, as I was having serious issues with the damn rental agency again, panicking about having no where to stay and paying through the nose... life finally gave me a break to breathe. The agency for all their hassle, incompetence and invasions can suck my... well you get the point.

Finally the Karma Kitty has come back to roost. Ok bad line but whatever. I agreed to do something that wasnt a big deal, I agreed to english proof an academic article for a PhD student here. Who knew that that small gesture would get me a place to stay. She is so kind she doesnt know what it means in the least to me.

SO I will not be sleeping in the Campo like a homeless vagabond. I will be carrying all my shit in multiple trips across the Campo however- just to prove how bad of a nomad I am.

I still have 1000 other pressures to deal with (including being composed enough for tomorrows BIG WIG meeting) but now at least one of them is relieved. And me a little bit with it. Long time over due if you ask me.

2004-07-05T12:46:00.000+02:00

I Want Off The Damn Dues Train. NOW!!:
I know you have to pay your dues in life. I am the first to say that you have to wade through the shit to get to the good stuff. But it’s really got to balance at some point. And right now its not. Enough is enough.

Some days exist simply it seems to make me wonder if I ever had any sanity at all. I wonder about the decisions I have made (as a result of where they have lead me). There are days when I really want to meet Ms. Life and tell her off for teasing me so persistently and cyclically. I hate being the bitch to life’s processes.

Honestly some days I think that if the costs weren’t so high right now I would jump without hesitation off the train. It might be the right train but I am getting motion sick from all this shit. Sometimes I think the prices I am paying to do what I am doing are worth it. Other times I seriously think that there needs to be another option to making all the swirling chaos stop besides suicide- because that is a shitty option (actually non-option, no people I am not suicidal, just crabby+) and I am all about increasing my options.

I am serious, today is NOT a good day. It is one of those, there is no light at the end of the tunnel and life constantly wants to put me through the wringer days. Anything that can go wrong has and well it is making my life hell. And really all I want is to make it STOP.

Really I just want to have the swirling chaos that is called my life STOP. If only getting off didn’t have such high costs. One friend told me to visualize my way through the mud and shit that seems to be my life right now. I did that all the time in gymnastics when I was growing up. I had to at that point, if I didn’t I wouldn’t- mostly because I would "black out" the middle bits. Serious I would salute the judges and have no clue until I hit my last bit (pass on floor, dismount on bars or beam). Took me a long time to convince my coaches that I seriously had NO recognition as to what had happened.

So now I am supposed to visualize the next two months. I know that they are most people’s dream. And superficially it’s mine too. Seriously it sounds great my life. But if you go one layer under the skin it isn’t as rosy as it sounds from a glance. Sure I will be in Italy and then Paris for Bastille Day, followed by a run trip through the UK. It SHOULD be great, but in the same time I have a thesis proposal that I am drifting at sea with that is due, I have financial issues that exchange rates are only exacerbating, I have housing issues to secure, and I have two more months to get through.

There is a point where you are so tired and just want it all to be over with. I am completely there, full stop- bus dont go no further. The agency has been giving us more issues and I am now forced to look for a place to stay for the rest of my time in Siena. I did NOT need this. I don’t need it financially, because even if I could afford it the exchange rate is going up and screwing me over. Next up on "the hold her over the barrel" trend, is the moving of all my shit. I am seriously not a good nomad and all I want to do right now is take my shit and put it in ONE fucking place and make it STAY there. It is heavy, it is mine and I want or need it, but I don’t want to move it again. And then we have the Conference dance, where I get to go somewhere but it’s completely at the wrong time (i.e. would be easier if it was in say... September).

I feel like I am lined up in front of a bloody firing squad right now and I simply cannot get a break. Bang, Find A Place to Stay For The Next 5 Nights. Bang, Pack Up Everything. Bang, Move. Bang, Write Paper. Bang, Meet with Big Wig. Bang, Scramble Like All Hell. Bang, Write Final Dissertation Proposal (with no comments from advisors). Bang, Travel to Milan. Bang, Travel to Paris. Bang, Travel to UK. BANG, BANG, BANG. Literally all within the next a week.

This seems to be a cyclical thing, and I am not fond of that. It cycles between ok and sometimes even fun, and intensely packed high stress power-ball games. It takes almost everything out of me. It makes me unbearable to be around. It is not fun. Life doesn’t always have to be fun and games but it wouldn’t hurt if one or two things could go my way and stay that way. Cause every time I think I have come close a recovery, Ms. Life WHACKS me again. Just when I thought I wasn’t a contestant on "Whack Me With A Bat" any more. I am sure I will come out alive, or at least that is what my friend Jeff tells me, but really there is only so much more of this I can take!

2004-07-04T13:44:00.000+02:00

Happy Fourth of July:

It is the second one I have spent out of the states in a row, and the second one I forgot basically (remembered as I was going to bed- does that count?). See it’s not a holiday here in Italy, and it is well established that I am a BAD American.

What did I do for my Fourth of July? Well like any good American I watched the European Cup Football Final of course! That and a whole bunch of nothing. Well ok I was geeky and I did a bit of reading, and took a nap first. It’s Sunday what else is Sunday for?

So I have watched three of the European games (Italy-Denmark, Portugal-England and Portugal-Greece), and I have observed confirmation of my beliefs- there are many hot football players. It was fun, as I am not invested in a team or anything, plus it is my Mediterranean friends. I kind of wanted Portugal to win home team and all; however it is the year of Greece. It wasn’t as dynamic and explosive of an offensive game. Portugal had their chances and simply didn’t step up to the goal as it was.

But really that is what I did. There were no fireworks in Italy. I was tired from the Palio and packing and we went home to bed after a few drinks and the game. My life is dull and I am a BAD american. There it is all summed up.

2004-07-03T13:42:00.000+02:00

Saying Goodbyes:
Yes again I come back to the part of bouncing around that I hate. I hate not feeling settled, I hate starting over from scratch each time, and I hate saying goodbye after I have started over from scratch. It is not a fun process. I know that there are good and bad points to all of this. I could be the first one to rattle the lists off to you.

The issue is that no matter what goes on, I am always in the same situation. Just as soon as I get to the point that I feel ok where I am, I have a community and things are starting in the right direction, BOING time to bounce around again. Life feels like it is one wicked game of musical chairs right now. Between the bouncing and the pressures I place on myself well it is all insane I tell you, life is insane. And don’t even get me started on the packing.

Unfortunately one of my dear friends and one of the girls in the program are leaving today. I know that its not good bye forever, I learned from my great aunt when I was little that you don’t say good bye you say I’ll see you later (well I learned it in Spanish, but same thing). I still wish I wasn’t the last one to move right about now. I don’t like saying good bye to everyone and basically having no one say good bye to me, at least not if I am moving too. Virginia leaves tomorrow and then it is just me. Me all alone, hiding from the agency people, scooting in and out as secretly as I can, just me. Well there will be one or two others here but you get the point.

So I went out with Khryzek last night and the rest of the group (some of who will be staying most of whom will be leaving soon also) and had fun, and said good bye.

2004-07-02T13:20:00.000+02:00

Il Palio:
Well its here folks. This what all of Siena is about. It is supposedly what makes this place so closed (the whole neighborhood solidarity thing) and what everyone and their mom comes to see. It is IL PALIO. So even though I am not the grand dame of this town’s features I decided that I wasn’t going to be one to pass up on any experience. And if nothing else Il Palio is an experience.

So what is Il Palio? Well here is a bit of a historical run down in crude terms. Most cities in Italy have some event which often has been going on for centuries and is often a pilgrimage of sorts usually to make blessings or thanks to the Virgin Mary. Il Palio is Siena’s version of that. It happens twice a year (July and August) and it is one hell of a brou-ha-ha. It starts two to three months in advance at least. Commencing with the Drummers, you have all listened to me bitch about them.

The drummers are part of what are called Contrade (basically neighborhoods) and there are 17 of them. They each have a flag, colors, an animal they represent, a church, a Palio Museum and more medieval garb than you can shake a stick at. Each year each contrada spends their weekends prancing around (and often it’s the young people doing this, which is surprising to me) and as soon as the sun comes out daily drumming practice in the arcades for the acoustical effect commences. This wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t the same damn bloody beat over and over and over again. They also all sing songs- to the same damn tune, just different words.

While the day long event and the race are referred to as Il Palio, Il Palio is actually only a banner. Looked to me like something that was created for a high school drama club, but what do I know. Often people think it’s the historical presentation of the contrade and the horse race, but Il Palio itself is only the banner. And let me tell you locals are EMOTIONAL about it.

About two weeks ahead of time preparations begin. They pack the outskirts of the Campo with sand and board off the center of the Campo, making the race track. In the week running up to the main event they run trials at 5 am and 8 am on certain days, with the contradini drumming daily. Only 10 contrade per year run the race. The seven who didn’t run last year are guaranteed a spot this year and the ten from last year draw straws for the last three spots.

The way the day of the actual grand deal goes is as such. At 6am the contradini go together to church and pray, following which they go and bless their horse. At 8am the last trial is ran. After which they pray some more, then eat lunch together, and of course bless the horse again. Now after this last blessing the contradini get into their garb (which really makes you feel like you are watching the filming of Men in Tights).

A cannon is set off (scaring the pigeons to death- watch out for hailing pigeon shit!) and then they hose down the path with a firetruck like pressure hose. Great for those who want to go get hosed down by it too- just dont go too close! This is great, because if you didn’t guess sitting out in the heat of the sun on a terracotta tiled piazza for hours on end- well its fucking HOT. You should get to the Campo early should you want to get a decent view of anything happening in the race. And I mean early (like 2-3 pm) the cannon goes again as the "gates" to the Campo are all shut down (except for one) at 4:45ish and that one is PACKED with the Contradini coming through it shortly there after.

Before the contradini come in, the Caracaccineri (I am sure I spelt it wrong, but I can say it right :) come in. This is the actual "Start" of the "event." These are the Carabineri (kind of "Police") who are garbed in Napoleonic looking gear. They prance around the Campo once and then on their second path round they canter leading into the full fledged gallop, wielding their swords and hooping like they are rushing into war. Fun to watch.

Afterwards the Contrade (all 17) begin the procession through town and around to the Campo. The locals then pour into the Campo through the one gate and the Campo goes from about 2,000 people to about 6,000 in the space of an hour, and it stays like that for the next two and a half hours.

The historical presentation of the Contrade starts with the Senese town flags and people- including the old tune trumpeters etc. And then comes each Contrade- who have drummers and flag twirlers who throw the flags around and also show off the horse. This moves a lot slower than you would think to be honest, and you are packed in kind of like sardines. Then there are some torture looking guys, and then comes Il Palio on its parade boat. Everyone is in garb and the horses are too. I feel bad for most of them I was dying in the Campo- and they had wigs, velvet and metal on. I don’t think I could do it. No need to wonder why they all looked pissed in every picture I have. At the end the flag throwers line up and throw their flags around.

As the flags are being tossed, the horses and the jockeys come out. Let me stress here that the contrade put SERIOUS money into this event. It is televised ALL DAY on RAI Uno- the main state channel. They do not interrupt it AT ALL- all emergency news breaks go to RAI Due! When the race is over it is replayed on a constant loop for the rest of the night. Mind you this is done nationwide, Il Palio is serious shit.

When I say serious money here is what it will cost you: chairs in stands on the periphery are 500 euros each and you have to be in your seats by 5:10 or you are SOL. If you wanted to see it from any balcony that is on the Campo- well each person costs 2000-3000 euros. And then there are the two VIP buildings, rented out by the HUGE local bank and then you have people world wide invited and "treated." Last year Tony Blair watched the Palio from there. Women in Haute Couture evening wear stand sipping champagne on the veranda, while Japanese men are stereotypically filming everything on their latest gadget. In addition to this the jockeys are paid 200,000 euros each. Yes I counted that is the correct amount of zeros! That is nothing to say what is being bet Italy wide (Senese do not bet on Il Palio).

But back to the event: the entrance of the horses. All holy hell goes wild. They enter one by one and go around the ring once; if you are on the rail like I was you can even hear the jockeys talking shit. When they pass the contradini (the costumed ones who are sitting in "special stands") you see the men go freaking crazy; pounding shit, being Neanderthal and everything. SERIOUS rivalries exist here in Siena and if you want to see ‘em, well here you go! Let the fights begin, and seriously they fight. The only bar is on grabbing other horses reins.

The riders and horses then start walking in a circle jockeying for the order, horses spurring around. These horses aren’t exactly tame, nor do they like being corralled into a small space with 9 other non-tame horses. The starting order of horses to line up is randomly selected from this circling and announced on a loud speaker. You see lots of talking going on; it’s a political scientist’s theory in action.

Once it is down to the last two, it gets interesting. This isn’t your average race; there is no start of the gun. It starts when the last rider gets "in line," but no way in hell he’s getting in till it’s advantageous for him. Often the order is broken and the circling starts again. Now everything up to this point (which is close to 8pm) is prompt. Mostly because the horses are not allowed to race after dark, and if they were late well- you do NOT want to go there.

So after the ordering broke this year, the whole circling began again. They got in line and you have to pay attention or you miss it. The deal with the race is that you go around the track three times. The horses are ridden bareback and it happens with such speed and violence that should you blink or be short you just might miss it! It is about 90 seconds of adrenaline filled racing.

Also another quirk of the race that adds to its "je ne sais quoi" is that it is the horse that wins not the rider. So inevitably each year a rider gets thrown (3 this year) and they keep on chanting for the horse. So I yelled GO, GO, GO and I jumped to see what was going on and I squinted my eyes to catch the winner. Quite the exhilaration for all 90 seconds of it. This year the race was neck and neck until the last bit of the corner when one of the other jockeys took out another rival jockey and ironically enough due to an earlier horse that was rider-less, the first three horses across the line were rider-less. Il Contrade della Giraffa was the winner.

After the race is won, everyone rushes the path. They pick the jockey up, start drumming, wave their flags and they cry. Dear Buddha are they all crying clinging on to one another. I for one will never understand that kind of attachment and emotion to something like football games or Il Palio, but the tears they flowed like the River Jordan. The Contrade then parades Il Palio through, around, and all over town. And they did this at least 4-6 times that I saw. In the neighborhood there is much partying, eating and much bell ringing. There is a bell in the Piazetta and it will be rang non-stop for the next two days, Il Palio actually will be paraded for the next two days also.

Parties are in all of the neighborhoods, but the "losers" are usually having a neighborhood only (unless someone from the neighborhood invites you) dinner (that is often €30+, gotta raise that money to pay the jockey you know!). After the dinner there is a huge party with wine for everyone, well at least until it runs out which was after about 4 hours. It was entertaining to see a Wine Keg. Think a Beer Keg with tap, but looks like a HUGE ass bottle of Chianti and you get the picture.

They parade Il Palio around and bring it to the local church; people take threads off of the tassels and tie them around their wrists. And in the weirdest touch of all you have the Cuccio. Every neighborhood "citizen" will wear a scarf that resembles the flag (bandiera) of the contrada around their shoulders/neck. It seems that the adults after they win like to attach on a pacifier and in some cases a baby’s bottle full of wine to the knot of the scarf. Now the bottle I could pass over, the 16 year olds with pacifiers I thought hmmmm…. It was when I saw the 65 year old with a flashing binky in his mouth that I thought WTF!!??!! I asked the Italians I talked with at the Festa what it was about but no one seemed to know. Me I think its weird!

The Festa was great, I sat for a while (being on your feet in the sun for 7 hours makes you do that) and was approached by two Italians; one middle aged guy and one younger one. The younger one was pretty cute, I forgave the fact that he was one of the "damn bloody drummers," I even wasn’t grossed out by the smoking (I have given up trying to find an Italian who doesn’t smoke). He took off his shirt and well... that was all until I noticed the Fanny Pack. That is the death of any attraction you can have for a male. I will never know why in all my life long days that men think wearing a fanny pack is ok, but I left Mr. Cuccio there.

I sat next to Middle aged man and talked with some other people I knew. He decided to hand over his HUGE flag to me to hold. So I have a picture of me with the winning Contrade flag. I waved it around a bit. Mr. Cuccio seemed impressed, but I just couldn’t get past the fanny pack. Middle aged man tried to convince me to go to some dinner but I went with two of the girls to the Campo.

It was about 2 am at this point, and while all the Senese were still going strong; I was seriously starting to fade. After another hour in the Campo, I started to get cold, the girls were speaking Spanish which was messing with my head a bit and I was T-I-R-E-D. I am old you know, having just had that birthday and all. I can’t party like I used to it seems, at least not with out a nap. So I headed home ending the "Il Palio experience- 2004."

I must say that as much skepticism as I had initially, living here you get pretty damn fed up with all the drumming and the closed contrade bullshit pretty quick. However, many of the Senese became a lot nicer (maybe because I was around the "winners"), the tourists fade in a bit more and the drumming it didn’t bother me so much.

It is one hell of a surreal experience, such that you are seeing men in tights and wigs, some of them looking like they are straight out of the middle ages. The horses racing it great! I love me a good race. And since there is no investment (I am not a contradini, and even if I was my contrade was not running this year) I really enjoyed it, also probably a factor of spending time with good friends. Makes the time in the heat go faster, that and the ice bottles of water! Ice it is your FRIEND. If you are in the area it is most definitely an experience everyone should take advantage of.

It is however an endurance event not for the weak of heart. It is hot, and if you are dumb and don’t bring something to sit on, shade yourself with, or drink well can anyone spell out the prescription for HEAT STROKE. There were at least 5 people carried off and 3 others I saw puke in my time. So come, be respectful and be prepared.

2004-07-01T12:52:00.000+02:00

VIVID FIERY RED:
I can not believe the agency I am renting from. I should have listened to my gut saying initially I should have moved elsewhere, at the beginning. So in most normal parts of the world should you happen to rent an apartment for the month you have to be out by the first of the month. Tuesday the twats at the agency told me no I couldn’t stay the night of the 30th, I had to pay extra if I wanted to do that.

Well since the next day was Research Wednesday and they weren’t willing to let me clear out the room and leave the keys in there at night when I got back, I was left with no choice. I told them I would pay for the last night. I got home last night and what has happened?? The FUCKERS had thrown some of my shit away and moved the rest around. This is SOOOOO UNACCEPTABLE!

So I go to Florence for my day of research, effectively about three hours of it as the power flickered and left the computers and copiers down for 2 hours; but that is besides the point. I get home it’s about 9:45pm and I walk through the entry way, I see 6 big garbage bags. I think what is that about? I wonder if those shits put my stuff down here... so I open one up bag and BANG right on the money- there are my towels. In with all the SHIT, and when I say shit I mean food, rubbish and what not. I RUN upstairs freaking out. I find all doors to rooms locked, all food tossed (I went grocery shopping yesterday and they took my Truffle Oil BITCHES), I see all my things in the main room shoddily packed (as I left the room in a hit of disarray from packing that morning).

I was LIVID. I was seeing RED. I could barely breathe I was so INFURIATED. I have put up with more shit from these people in the last three months than anyone should have to. I was roomed with others not in the program with out advance notice, I lived in the filthy apartment for 3 months, and I paid for 3 weeks that I didn’t live here again with out advance notice.

They are soooo on my shit list. I dont even want to think how much money I am out. In general I am a fairly moderate/temperate person. I don’t get truly mad that easily; honest ask anyone who knows me. It takes a lot to piss me off and it is usually a cumulative effect. I am bad in that sense, I have a hair trigger.

I can’t tell you where my full point is, but once you have passed that point of no return; you can damn well believe you will know it. I BLOW, and I make Vesuvius look like a trickle. The foul thoughts, language and vitriol flow like hot molten lava, and take a lot longer to cool. When I BLOW I am SERIOUS about it. I am one of those, don’t fuck around and do it right if you are going to do it/ don’t shake easy but once shaken I rattle quite a bit, kinds of people.

Not only was it an invasion of privacy, but it was destructive. I mean the dip shits threw away my fucking Harrods towels that my mother got me! They broke my glasses and my oil diffuser (my one make this place a home thing besides a picture of family). I lost my ticket to Milan. And then I had to try and go through everything to make sure I knew where things were. Took me an hour to find my underwear for Christsake!

All they had to do was take everything in the room stick it into bags and leave it in the main room. Would have been an invasion, but some random cleaning lady deciding what is and what isn’t rubbish, throwing out my freaking cashmere sweater- This, this is not right! I did not need this kind of emotional drain. I came up to the girls flat and it seems that something similar had happened to one of the other girls. We were all quite crabby.

This shit is out of line. I don’t know why these people think its ok to treat any of us like this. We may be students, but I am not some 18 year old. I deserve to be treated with respect. This is so far out of line that it’s not even funny.

Someone is going to get it and they are going to get it BIG time tomorrow. I was downstairs going through garbage and upstairs trying to semi-arrange my things until three in the morning. I am going to be one hell of a crabby bitch for a while.

2004-06-30T12:48:00.000+02:00

You Do the Herky Jerky:
It is Research Wednesday everyone! Come join me on my musical bus ride to Florence!!

Holy shit are you kidding me?? This morning’s bus ride was the most insane thing I have done in a long time (at least done unknowingly). I had a bus driver, I use this term lightly, but only for lack of better definitive vocabulary skills, I can’t pinpoint the word I want to use. He was honking the horn the whole way there and talking up a blue streak- to himself. The last time I rode this musical of a freak bus, I was in Egypt.

I think he thought this trip was a game. You jerk head on forward, you jerk your head on back, you jerk your head on forward and you shake it all about. You do the Herky Jerky and you turn yourself around, that’s what it’s all about!

Yeah, I wasn’t creative enough to fill in the whole song- but you get the idea. Add in the Swervy-Swervy dance too and you have the driving "style." Harder than all hell on the brakes (the bus will need new pads) and jiggering the damn steering wheel; the whole 1.5 hour ride.

If I haven’t told you as I have gotten older I have become more prone to motion sickness. Never fazed me riding in busses or passenger seats as a kid; but now should I not be in the front or should you move the shit around my stomach says, "Hey you want to see what you ate again?" So the hard breaking jerks, the swerving and ridding the middle of the road well- I came *THIS CLOSE* to blowing chunks.

The other point of reference is that these are not wide roads we are driving down, they barely hold two lanes, and in some places when they are resurfacing they hold one lane in each direction. I could kiss the railing if I wanted for most of the ride. Thus the swervy-swervy makes you hold on to the handles white knuckled.

In addition drivers often straddle the middle and then play chicken with each other usually at about 120km per hour. I know that’s only 60 miles an hour but really its a lot faster than you think when you are in a big bus on a little road with turns and curves. It is harrowing. You just don’t want to look. And when I told this to a local friend, his comment was "why not?" My comment why the fuck paint the lines in the first place then?

2004-06-29T17:37:00.000+02:00

Happy Birthday ME:
I am one whole year older today. The birfday fairy has arrived, against my better wishes and well I'm old-ER. Actually I am more tired than anything, packing does that to me. It seems that for the past two years my birthday just falls on the WRONG day.

Last year I was landing in Italy arriving at about 5pm local time after 22 hours of air travel, with a serious frisking at the Frankfurt Airport. They are serious about security those Germans. Followed by 3 hours of ground transport to somewhere I hoped my directions were going to take me. Into the hot baking sun.

It was the start of the new adventure. I was starting the fellowship that lead me into this year's graduate school "adventure." A journey which has brought me one year of travels, research, debts, frustrations, joy, growth and shedding. A process of questioning, learning and questioning again. A process of coming to war and peace with myself and time. I watched the grapes at my house that summer change. And I changed with them. There is no denying for every paranoia and insecurity I have, I've grown.

I have shed the dead weight people in my life. The ones I picked up when I was a bitter and unhappy soul (they still are, but I thankfully am not). I have replaced them with some phenomenal, genuine and sincere people. The kind who care, listen, are happy for me and well make me laugh. The kind I should be surrounded and supported by. I shed some of the weight I gained after going through my medical hell. And I have shed some of the emotional baggage I have been carrying around (but of course not all- I wouldnt be me if I wasnt Neurotic now would I?)

This past year has definitely brought me the ups and the downs, and I wouldnt trade a single one of them for the moon. Not always an easy road, but its my road. I normally dont like to ride the emotional rollercoaster, it often makes me shut down. And I am not good at turning back on my emotions. Some of the downs were dramaticized for no good reason, and therefore not really as far down as I thought. And most of the ups well they have been pretty UP there. I have learned to ride the rollercoaster a bit more. And you know what I have learned that I might as well scream WHEEEEEEE whether I am going up or down and be true to myself.

This year on my birthday I am in Italy again, a place that will forever have a special place in my heart. Realizing that I am walking one hell of a long walk back to me. But I am willing to keep walking, I want to keep walking. That sign I thought I saw saying "You- 2km" seemed to be a trick and "Me" is a bit further off in the distance. But as the Taoists say it's all about the Journey. And in the end I have to agree. It might be frustrating but its an honest truth.

I am getting ready to start another voyage as this birthday comes around. A journey to places, both inside and outside me if I have anything to judge by. This time the journey is a bit into unknown. I am going to places with out concrete things, I am also in the midst of the dissertation process. I keep muttering that which doesnt kill me makes me stronger. And you know what it does, and sometimes afterwards it doesnt even seem that bad. Sometimes it even seem like what was best.

As for life after this birthday, I am bouncing around quite a bit for the next 3 months. Its about to become a veritable "Where in the World is Tink game" soon. I am not doing anything dramatically special for the "big day," that will come later. But I am enjoying the Tuscan Sun today and I am going to start believing in what others seem quite sure they are seeing in me.

Happy Birthday ME!

2004-06-29T14:42:00.000+02:00

Hit It Harder:
So I am currently left wondering the following question. Why is it that when the computer goes wonky our first instinct (after trying repitition a few time) is to hit it, and that the amount of force with which we hit it is related to the result we get?

I for example was just using my Hotmail account (come on I used to work for them and I have had it for 4+ years- I have a Yahoo too). I had sent a message but it wasnt going through. Some can't reach server shit excuse. So I hit back and then send again. Same message. Hey fucker send my mail! I say going back to the message to hit send again. Same bloody message. Then I forcefully click my touchpad mouse and say a few more expletives... and guess what. VOILA! Email is sent.

The power of the word and brute physical force- never underestimate it or a redhead in a crabby mood :) Thats right dont mess with me computer!

2004-06-28T18:43:00.000+02:00

Completely and Utterly Breathless:
When I got home from the conference, I sent out my follow up emails of thanks. Kind of a hang over from when I was in the "real world." But I really wanted to this time, mostly due to the support that was extended and what I felt was like tolerance. In particular to the two "friendlies" and I just got a response that takes the breath right out of me. Breath couldnt be more knocked out of my body if a Linebacker took me flat out on my back.

Here I was thinking that I might need to be embarassed for prattering and expressing frustration etc. I dont always know how to "restrain" or censor myself. It is well documented that not all neurons in my brain connect. I was quite sure I might have made myself look a bit on the well ummm nope not got a polite word for it... dippy the shit stick side.

And then I got this email, that seriously, almost brought me to tears. It hit it home that one more bit, chiseling at me like I am some piece of sculpture. He is one of the big guys in the field, I have to take what he says seriously right? I actually had to walk outside to the patio to take it in. I well up everytime I review this entry or look at the email. I am so utterly speechless.

He wrote:
"I enjoyed our time together very much. Talking to you was like breathing fresh air. I am sure that next time we meet you will have come up with your own puzzle and research design. It is taking you a little while because you have set high standards and you are intellectually honest. All this bodes well for the future, although in the short term it can be frustrating."

HOLY SHIT!!
Everyone else can see what I seemingly cannot. I think its time to open my eyes.
HOLY SHIT!!

2004-06-28T13:32:00.000+02:00

Why Do You Try To Be Like Other People? You Aren’t Even Good At Being Yourself Again?
I am having all sorts of self revalation. I am sure that some of that is tied to the fact that TOMORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY. Which reminds me where the fuck did that come from? It was supposed to be way off in the distance and now it is here?? I think I might have ask if I can copy Sphinxy's letter to the Birfday Fairy.

But on other points… Why is that when I become insecure I shut off? I get all quiet, which anyone who knows me knows is a signal. I always talk, make some kind of noise, something. But somewhere in being with other people that do what I do and looking at their presentations, the question fount (yes I am always full of questions) turns its spout to "no-go" mode and my mouth staples shut internally.

I am so afraid of being me. Of looking like I don’t know what I am talking about. And in my knee jerk reaction that is exactly what I create- a me that looks like I know nothing. I confess I am scared shitless of looking stupid, particularly in front of people that seriously know their shit. Not I know on a decent level I know my shit, but what I need to do is let it out.

I am going to have to go through this awkward phase sooner or later and the quicker I get through it the more I can get to me. I think that realization has finally come through. Hopefully I will realize at the end of it that I am not just some poser. And hopefully that I am a researcher.

2004-06-28T12:57:00.000+02:00

Hit and Run or Name and Shame:
Well I think I may have shamed my advisor into a response. Ha, Ha; deserves the quirky French freak right. I managed to find Paolo at the conference. My scruffy, cute Italian who is all disheveled. What is it with me finding these two cute Italians? Both have beards which are usually a "no-no" for me. Anyways more accurately I was found, accosted and squeezed by Paolo, even given a sign of respect as he started talking to me in Italian not English! We chatted while he picked up his information and then we went up to his panel.

As we went up the stairs he asked how things were going. I said well I had been trashed by "adjusting myself" professor (otherwise known and "him the non-communicative"), but not heard a thing from "Mr. Hot and Cold" advisor (otherwise known as "him who was caught staring at my chest" or "him who stares and scares") who has had my proposal and meeting request for at least 3 weeks. Actually I really hadn’t heard much from him since I got back from France.

Paolo said that was odd as my advisor is usually pretty on top of email. I said I know, and it doesn’t help to add to my paranoia either. I personally kind of think "him who stares but scares" is taking his "duties" (that he gets dosh for) a bit on the light side. He’s going to get a bit of a rude awakening when I get back to Paris... but I wouldn’t say that to Paolo, him and "he who stares but scares" are close like this *crosses fingers*.

So I leave it at that and up the stairs we go (I catch him looking at my legs I think as I am hiking the skirt to keep up going up the stairs side by side chatting- what is this look and no compliment shit with these two?). He presented some really interesting research. I really should have brought up some points, but as I was later told in Un-PC terms by a very hysterical Irish man, I was being girly. Guys wouldn’t be afraid of looking like an ass because they hadn’t been able to read the research first. They’d make shit up and be embarrassed at the shit they tried to pedal, if at all, maybe a few years down the road.

Anyways, I had hoped Paolo would stay in town but the crazy, scattered, scruffy and cute Italian headed back to Milan (not with out setting our "Milan Date"). Now Paolo had seen me talking with another big wig, who I made friends with (one of the two "friendlies" at the conference) and us joking during the presentations and afterwards. And I think that interaction and my "he has vanished comments" might have been relayed to "him who stares but scares."

Why would I think that?? Well literally the next morning who do you think I get an email from? Wouldn’t coincidence have it! And the shit is going on vacation (Fucker! I would have come to Paris before you left if I had known that- what is up with not telling me. Me fait chier- chien!). So I am stuck without a meeting with him next month until I get back from the UK, i.e. the last day of the month. And probably no email access either. Yeah that is SOOOO not going over well with me, if you couldn’t guess. I am just going to have to fly it alone and hope well that I don’t look like an ass, that or stop caring if I do anymore (if only there wasn’t so much resting on it...).

We’ll see what "Mr. Hot and Cold" does now though, at least it might entertain me. I can use all the entertainment I can get. I am supposed to get proposal comment next week and confirmation of a meeting when I get back. I might forgive him if I get some really good comments or a question that I can research.

God I love my life...

2004-06-27T13:27:00.000+02:00

I Have THOSE Kinds of Days And Then There Are THOSE Kinds:
Today is one of those "click" days. Unfortunately no it was not on my thesis. Well not completely but I am hopefully clicking a bit more than I was previously- and clicking on something that my advisor will say yes to. I have research that I got for CHEAP from the publishers at the conference!

But I am clicking with music and movement today. I was feeling a bit off, so I played some music to dance with. And then I heard one song and I listened to it on repeat for the next couple of hours. I can do that. I can listen to one song for 5 hours and if I like it I simply don’t bore of it. It of course needs to be of my own volition, being subjected to things like Mmmm-Bop songs incessantly on the radio while driving to work is NOT what I am talking about. I do mean though that when I am in the library, I can play a song and bop my way through my research to the same song looping. I know not something many can do but I can.

Sometimes when I do this certain songs pop out. I don’t choose them for any particular reason; they just suit my fancy at that moment. And then for what ever reason they start speaking to me. I was dancing around the room taking a break from my dense reading program and the avoidance of packing (as that would mean acknowledging that I move out of this flat in 3 days and that I leave town in 14 days). And then sat and listened to some of my comedy (I LOVE John Leguizamo, and need to get his one man shows on DVD!) after which while writing out some emails to send tomorrow I listened to Liz Phair- Extraordinary.

The song spoke to me in so many ways. I love the lyrics, even though they made me think of Nasty Ex. But even more so because I identified with them, and sang them bouncing around to the fun beat. It meant something to me and clicked in my head. I am extraordinary, and I love the song now.

That is all. Yes it is a boring day, it was this or I could tell you about the chapters I read today about soft and hard law or better yet bitch about the Contradini. I do that every Sunday as it is. So I am sparing you- consider yourself lucky :)

2004-06-27T13:25:00.000+02:00

Ciao:
So I am home after many tears as I left on a bus from Bologna. I wanted to stay but there was no way I could justify it. It would have been nice but there were no guarantees about spending time with people (many were disbursing pretty quick) and well I have too much shit to do. So what am I doing you ask? I am packing and reading to avoid packing and thinking of all the things I need to do, but don’t want to.

And oh yes- HOLY FUCK ITS MY BIRTHDAY ON TUESDAY!!!

I can’t believe how much time is going to fly by and I just want to sit doing nothing and not have it move at all. I have so much to pack into the next two weeks that I am not sure how I will survive these next two weeks, let alone the next two and a half months when I am bouncing like crazy. Things are a bit hesitant right now but I am hopeful that I can make it through.

I have things to pick up, packing to do, preparations for Paris to make, friends to see, papers to write, research to follow up on, people to scold and flirt with, avoidance tactics to employ, research trips to take, meetings with other academics and well sleep to try and squeeze in there- somewhere.

Some days I feel like asking if some one is holding my head in the toilet while running a swirly on me. And then I realize if I ask that question I have to accept that I am doing it to myself. So we just won’t go there. We will just return to the "just when I am starting to enjoy being somewhere it is time to run and go somewhere else" fad. If nothing else the trends and patterns in my life are constant and predictable. That’s got to be worth something right?

2004-06-26T13:23:00.000+02:00

Bologna Here I Come. Grassa I Become:
I can’t wait to go back to be honest. Hopefully while people are still there. While JHUBC would not academically have been the place for me, I am seriously jealous of it socially. They seem to have a fairly decent sized program with a diversity of people, and with quality people. Maybe I met the best of them, but I am guessing not. They were people I could connect with. I don’t know why I don’t connect with the people from our sister program but I really don’t. And I had such a wonderful time. I didn’t want to leave. I had a nice flat I was staying at, nice people to hang out with (unfortunately most of them leaving next week though), and I had things to do, stores I could go to and really good food to eat.

I am sure if I had lived in Bologna I would have gained at least 5 kilos/10 lbs. I haven’t eaten this well in sooooo long. Well since my phenomenal meal in Rome at least. The people in town are so damn friendly and will speak Italian with me. There is just a great vibe to the place.

Even better impression for me was that I came for the conference. And in working the conference I get paid for doing nothing. I know I should take it and run, but I do feel a bit guilty, so I really have been trying to actually do things. I got so lucky on this conference to be able to stay at a fellow colleagues place in Bologna (no accommodations costs) then to have the conference provide food and a fellow academic take me out to dinner (almost no food costs), my conference fee waved, and to get freaking paid. This is beyond the research points, meeting really nice people, making network contacts and some pretty nice weather. I mean I don’t know how I luck into these things but wow was it my turn.

I met so many really good contacts and some of them are REALLY nice. They provided me with just the ego boost that I needed, enough emotional support to get me to the point that I was ready to face the research again and break me to the point that I will be willing to make an ass of myself (i.e. ask questions etc) at the next conference. And that little bit that tells me that while I of course have not chosen the easy path- Do I EVER?? But that the path isn’t necessarily the wrong one for me.

Even better I was given the compliment that I needed to be introduced to someone else who might be looking for someone to write something. Umm Yeah…. Not so sure I am that person but what kind of a compliment! I have been on this same kind of up down rollercoaster, and I normally DESPISE it. It can spin me like nothing else. But this time fate has intervened and made sure I have just the right things to buoy me back up at the exact second that they are needed. Maybe life is going right after all.

2004-06-25T12:51:00.000+02:00

The Kindest Words And Putting Myself Out There:
I have decided that I really like going to conferences. First of all you get to see some research from books before it is published, then you get to get a bunch of research- some of which you hope will fan the flames of the sparks that feel like they might be starting, and you even get to put a personal face to these people who you are citing. This in its own way starts to make you feel like you are a part of that community after all, especially when you are going out to drink together. But even better you find out how incredibly nice some of them are. And really nice- it makes my day.

I might just be at the breaking point, if not I can see the sign for it, I think. You know how they say you meet the right people at the right times. Well since Monday’s "I will not be constructive but will trash" event I have been a bit on the shaky side. Now I know that this is not unusual, actually it is to be expected and the process will make me a stronger candidate in the end. However, during the process (i.e. NOW) it is making me frustrated as all HELL (and I am already a frustrated lady). I feel beaten up and of course I am placing more pressure on me than I should. I needed to meet these people to be honest.

Just on cue, every single person I am coming into contact with is helping me that one little step more. Even with simple things, like kindness and listening. I have met two people at this conference who have helped more than I think they know.

They listened to paranoid me, told me it is normal, and pushed me to realize that I need to get past the fear. I need to just do it (yeah, yeah Nike whatever). Claudio told me that the process I was describing and my responses were just what was to be looked for in my development, and that my responses are what you look for in candidates. And then he comforted me telling me it would continue :) But that I had a good grasp on things and he was confident I would make it. I mean if people that know their shit believe in me well why shouldn’t I?

But Brendan is the one who I have accrued a serious debt to. I went up to him to thank him after a panel for being constructively critical and as he called it "deviant." To me he was a wonderfully insightful discussant and at the same time a spiky Irish man who perked the afternoon up. The Norwegian panelist might not have appreciated it, but I did. And I ended up talking with him for a while and let out my keeping quiet as a result of my fears of being an ass in front of others. And he told me that what from what I said and asked if I were a panelist I would have wanted to hear it. You just have to get past being an ass, and quit caring. If you are wrong you are wrong- Oh well, you say I guess you are right- I am wrong and you go on. And you know what that sounded like the me I remember, but have been struggling to get back in touch with.

And then he made about as accurate of a comment as there is. When you don’t put yourself out there, when you sell yourself short, when you aren’t you... well you won’t go forward. I have been percolating all week; I am slowly but surely getting back in touch with my critical self. I am starting slowly to think that way, but more importantly I am on the "cliff" ready to jump. Ready to jump on taking the risk of making a fool of myself. I am close to getting past the fear of looking like a fool, accepting the fact that all I need to do is say it, if it’s wrong well its wrong. I can keep going on. But I need to say it. I need to come up with things to ask. I needed one more panel in there...

I may be stumbling but I think if I keep it up I will be able to actually walk here soon. Over all however, this conference has been one of the better things that could have happened right now. And well I am grateful to the Goddess of Fates, even when she sometimes annoys me.

2004-06-24T12:36:00.000+02:00

Oh I Am In Trouble:
Do you know what Bologna has in town? Do you know? They have a LUSH. Freaking LUSH!!! Like I needed any more reasons to wish my program was in Bologna or ways to spend the money I don’t have. Good food, gorgeous places, a vibrant feeling of life, a nice university life and community, and SHOPPING!!!! With LUSH.

Now it’s a tiny one and doesn’t have every kind of thing that you can find at some of the huge ones but I made the mistake and I went in… oh was that a bad idea. I restrained myself slightly, but let me tell you I want me a Mango massage oil bar soooo bad, and I like the After 8:30 one too. But I have some products and I like that they are labeled in Italian. My lip balm is now called Baciami. And I like to think it makes me look kissable like it says.

2004-06-24T12:15:00.000+02:00

Ok I Need To Know:
You know Bologna, much more my style than Siena. I love Red in all its forms in this city. I love the political red, I love the red buildings and I love the red hot men. It seems the trend to like it better somewhere else than where I am. But I have been having such a great time, how could I not. But WHY oh WHY is it all the sweet hotter than HELL, flirty and really nice Italians are all always taken?

I had a lovely first day. Since I had been to a conference before and I was going to know at least 2-4 people there I was a bit more relaxed. I was also working the conference so I met the JHUBC grad students, and met even more people. There was a funny and angry British guy, a Hotter than All HELL Italian Guy, a very funny British girl, and a reserved but nice Irish girl. We spent the day working together and me attending panels occasionally, and then went to a pub and watched the Portugal v. England game at the end of the day.

At least I got one of my wishes (I wish it was the other one too). I got me one OFFENSIVE game! It was a great high intensity and FUN game. I had a blast, didn’t mind when I got beer spilt on me (I was already sticky from the heat so what was that going to change?) from a guy jumping up yelling GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLL. It was that great. Even better as I wasnt invested in who won and so I just people watched and wanted who ever was being active to score.

The pub was filled with both parties and it was an exciting and fun filled game. I loved that it went into sudden death. And I can say for the record that Portugal has some cute footie players and well I think Beckham looks stupid with that tattoo on the back of his neck. I even got to drink beers on the Publishing representative that came out with us too. And well then there was making friends with hotter than all HELL Italian man. What is it if you cant have em be friends till you can? He really is so nice that I am just sad he has a girlfriend, but I will settle for friends- he’s that smart and that nice. Oh yeah and THAT HOT.

2004-06-22T15:02:00.000+02:00

I Make You My BEEEEEECH!
So I have been trying to make the reservations for my travel to the UK. I am sooo going!!!!! Conference, London and Scotland here I come!

Note to Self: Must make flight reservation for Scotland-London.

Back to Programming:
To do this I have spent two days BATTLING with the freaking Air France web site (it was the cheapest- who would have thunk it!). All I wanted it to let me do was buy the bloody ticket.

I was about to break and say fine fly Easy Jet to the funky airport (Luton) and just get a damn ticket! I didnt want to get hit with out of control prices. That is what the 21 day advance is all about- cause if not I would so rather wait and see if the the exchange rate went down. Quite seriously though, I went through the reservations process about 15 times (not exaggerating) yesterday alone and 10 more times this morning. But I tried one more time on another computer and. WHEEEEE I win. I got my ticket. 91 euros later and a completed process. I made it my bitch.

Yeah Baby I am broke and I have a ticket!!!

2004-06-22T10:31:00.000+02:00

Dont Try That Shit:
Last night we had a dinner with a variety of people, I love dinner gatherings but they can be problematic for me. I love gathering and being with others around a table. I LOVE making foods that make others happy, and having close gatherings with food and happiness. I HATE the eating part of it, as I usually have an issue or two with this part, especially if I havent planned the menu.

I brought salad. In general I am not a salad person, but that is what they asked for. One of the girls (the bitchy whiny old one) in the program kept pushing me to eat more, and said I HAD to eat salad putting some on my plate with out asking. I made a salad for them- not a kind of salad I would have eaten. And that action is BEYOND rude to me.

(If you are a friend I dont really mean you but I do mean her!) Listen chunky people, just because you like to eat more than your body likes to or should hold does NOT mean I do. Nor do I want to be your size with out an alien being growing in me. Way one and two to piss me off is to shove food at me and then try to make me feel guilty for not eating "enough." Or to force me.

Have I told you how I have many issues with food? I would be DSM II Eating Disorder walking straight at you if it werent for the fact that NONE of it has anything to do with my weight. I have all the prerequisites you could ask for (I was a competitive gymnast and even was a cheerleading freak for a while- no reason I shouldnt have fallen into it with my teenage desire to fit in while also being seperate- yeah I like to be at both extremes at the same time- your point?). I have the accompanying paranoias too- I made a psychatrist actually assess me at one point, because I wanted the confirmation of what I knew and was tired of other asshats trying to pin on me.

But for me it all has to do with my family trying to force me into shit. I am and always have been a stubborn little git, and if you try to coerce or force me into doing anything it is a sure fire way to make me turn face and do the opposite simply to spite you. I am an OBC control-freak, surprising I know.

My family had serious issues with this. Especially as most of them are obese and seem to want everyone else to be too. Their approach instead of being moderate was to attempt to break my will. To give an example, I actually have a SERIOUS issue with Chick Peas/Garbanzo beans. Which is sad as many people seem to like them. But tell me it has garbanzos and I will RUN. Why? Because my "aunt and uncle/ godparents" the "loving" authority figures they were decided when I was staying with them that they would put them on my plate. When I refused to eat them my uncle thought it would be cute to put more on my plate- like that would convince me.

I was 5 or 6 and I said I wasnt going to eat them, and I meant it. In general I mean shit I say in life, and I have since I was little. Rather than saying take a bite and if you dont like it you can spit it out or any other such strategy they said I couldnt leave the table till I finished them. I promptly asked if I should piss and shit at the table. They said I could go to the restroom but that was it- the kind people.

So for 3 days I sat at the table ALL day long and I slept there too (with a cousin sneeking me a pillow at night). That is right- 3 days, and you wonder where the issues come from? I got nothing new to eat either, though I did get milk. I have subsisted on milk only for almost my entire life. I was diagnosed with anemia as a child and it was called Milk Anemia because of this. I come from the Cow family (owning a Cattle Ranch and Dairy- how much more in tune with Cows could someone be??). But I didnt eat anything except for gallons of milk for 3 days. They offered bread but I was insistent, I wasnt supposed to eat since I wasnt willing to eat the Garbanzo beans. Yeah I like to throw that shit back at your face, blame it on my Simean heritage.

After three days I broke my Uncle and he let me up off the table, throwing the now dry and skanky looking plate of food away. That is what you get when you try to make me do something against my will. That was also the start of my "you cant make me" relationship with food. Wherein I would sniff at it, look at it etc and make pronouncements about its acceptability. I decided I didnt like red foods- so I stopped eating them. I randomly quit eating things I had previously liked. I became about as fickle and finicky as they come and I wasnt going to let anyone change it. I wore it like a badge of pride.

Yes I admit it, I have issues with food. Not about eating them but about trying them. They are not life breaking, but if you push the wrong button vitriol and resistance will flow your way.(Ie do not push a fork full of food in my face it you dont want it slapped back up your nose) Things in life need to be for the large part at my choice when they can. And while I have made MAJOR strides in trying foods and working through these "issues" such that I am a bit more inclusive, should you try to guilt me I get PISSY.

"Oh you have to have more than that" comments make me want to point a fire hose at you and blast full force. I have very healthy eating habits in the respect that I know my bodies limit and I am in tune with it. I know when I am hungry (and I eat then or slightly before it as I can anticipate it). I also eat only until I am full and then I stop. I even eat what I want (no calorie restriction here. Bring on the BUTTER and the BREAD!). But I also have major issues with waste.

I had the mother who pulled the Children in Africa route. I actually asked her one night for a box, she gave it not understanding and I tried to mail them my dinner. Yup I was one SMARTASS kid. But quite seriously one of my family's other mechanisms at large meals was to damn me either way. If I put to much on my plate, I couldnt finsih it and was wasteful. In a family that was raised by parents who lived in Rural Spain and through the depression this is tantamount to murder. However should I put enough on my plate that I could finish it, I hadnt eaten enough and on went more to the plate. I tried so hard to get my plate away from them that I once sat on it.

I used to think I was the freak child as I was the only one that was this way. In general I am from the black sheep lineage of the family. But my Abuela made me feel normal. If all I wanted was Mac and Cheese for lunch she made it and made no fuss. I would try her food when no one was looking. But I am still the odd one out in my state-side family. I went to university. Why? I went to graduate school. A bigger why! I broke it off with my fiance- what the fuck was I thinking (that I wanted to be the family spinster and at 27 next week I am). I came back to Europe. Why they ask? I want to recuperate my Spanish citizenship (to which I am entitled). Again they ask why? They simply dont get me. And I honestly as much as I am like them in some ways, would be hard not to be spending my life around them, dont get them. We part ways like the Red Sea when it comes to eating (and a few other million things too).

The family in Spain is MUCH better. They are similar in that they want me to eat more (too skinny is the constant chant) but they dont care what I eat as long as I am eating with them. This is so much more enjoyable for me. I can have a plate full of rice and as long as I am eating and not wasting ALL is good. If I dont want food they push desserts at me (they know that will get me 90% of the time). They dont care. It is about sharing food and being together, not force-feeding. That logic I got from my Abuela and I can deal with, that is what I bring to my gatherings.

I have since found out though that my father (who passed away when I was two months) was similar to me in respect to food. I have his silouhette too. But the best was asking a cousin of his what he said about family meals- she said his exact words were TOO much food and TOO pushy about it. And I have started to feel a lot more "normal."

I have a tiny tummy. That doesnt mean I dont eat a lot. My friend Sarah is quite keen on telling people that I eat more than a horse. And quite often she is right, I am just deceptive. I am a muncher and grazing I can do with the best of them. Eating in one large meal- not so much. Particularly as I DESPISE the leaden feeling that comes with eating a large meal for me.

But you are going to only piss me off more than normal with your bitch weird self if you try to make me feel like shit for actually doing what is a step forward for me. Trying a Red food (red couscous- which wasnt bad).

So what is the point of that post... I dont know, but it had to come out. I am always irritated when people push the programmed triggers that I am sincerely trying to de-program.

2004-06-21T12:50:00.000+02:00

Anyone Think Its A Bad Idea to Kill My Advisor?:
I am having a shitty ass Monday morning. I hate this morning with a vivid passion. It does NOT make my day to see you sun.

French advisor has yet to respond to my proposal, great right... So what does this all do to a paranoid and JitteryGirl? It makes her freak even MORE. Probably doesn’t matter any more anyways, not after this morning. Today even better, I get an email from my US advisor. I swear the man is brilliant but seemingly unable to string more than 3 words together in a sentence or a response. This is one guy that working with over emails is completely unproductive. This is really not going to be fun. Yeah cause my ass is so going to be grass on this one.

I send my proposal, saying I am sure it is too big and could use your help trying to narrow it, or at least some directions on narrowing it. And his response to my email and proposal you ask? He says yes you are right its too big and that is IT.

HI I said that I need HELP narrowing it, your confirmation that it is too large does NOT HELP me to narrow my topic. Can you maybe bounce me some ideas here. I mean come on- throw a girl a freaking bone. Not having anyone in a 500 mile radius that I can bounce ideas off is making me cry. I need to have sounding boards to try and get my ideas to gel. I need to have someone banter back and forth with me who can point shit out to me so I can get my argument together.

GAH, so now I am basically back to the drawing board such as it is, and ready to break in half myself. I am paranoid enough as it is. Really all I needed was some kind of positive comment and then a critique with possible other options. YOu could tell me what does or doesnt work in what I proposed. You could even tell me that my area of interest is fine but I need to tune the research design. Go ahead and say something like- ok I can see your interests and it might be interesting to look at X, Y, Z instead. I don’t want to research it by maybe Question F would interest you. For the fucking love of GOD SOMETHING.

I don’t know, I know that I am now questioning everything- which always makes it all better. What a way to start the week No? And now I have to go get my brain thinking... cause I have a meeting in less than 3 weeks with a Big Wig, and I dont want to look like an ass to him too.

2004-06-20T12:37:00.000+02:00

I Will Break You Like A Stick:
YES I have won the battle. For those of you following the "Where in the World is Tink?" game- you might think I am in Italy. Well I am not really; I live in a small part of the country that is Senese, not Italian. These Senese are the most closed in little Italian people that I have ever met. They contradict everything I know about Italy and Italian people. They want nothing to do with any outsider. Some what it makes sense, they are inundated with tourists. (If I see another lady with a head set on talking through a megaphone I am going to go ballistic- 5 on the 3 minute walk to the Laundromat is TOO much!). Even more it is a large university town. So it makes sense that they are a bit cautious I guess. But it is just weird to me.

I have been here for 2.5 months saying hello to people like is NORMAL in the rest of Italy. It is my own Social Experiment, I walk down the street and if you look at me I say Buongiorno/Buona Sera etc. I get looks back at me like ummmm... "why are you talking to me?" about 90% of the time. But today I WON, I broke the grocer and he said Buongiorno to ME! My fruit and grocery vendor has been quite the oddity to me since I got here. I don’t think he knows what to do with me, which isn’t uncommon in reality. I go in I am friendly I speak Italian in my funked up accent and I go in every day and do the same thing. Half the time he ignores me grunts takes my money and on to the next old Italian lady in line...

However I have finally gotten him to the point that this morning as I walked down the street to the Facolta he said Buongiorno to me with out me prompting (erm… guilting) him into it. Even better after I bought my fruit and lemon cake he said Ciao Bella to me. HAHAHAHAHA I win I win I win!!!

On another side note I ran into Christy Turlington on the main street of Siena today. I think she might have had a baby, she didnt look as svelte, or tall for that matter, as I expected. It is starting to get to be random sighting series I think... oh well, not like I care- takes more than that to get my attention. It was only well after the fact that I realized I should have looked to see if the guy with her was Ed Burns. In stead all I noticed was a cute baby girl.

2004-06-19T12:22:00.000+02:00

The Italian Phenomenon:
I watch Italian movies and think Stefano Accorsi is HOT! He also has odd choice in women. Giovanna Mezzogiorno I can understand. Sorry, but Latetia Casta does NOTHING for me. Especially after seeing her in some of the most horrid outfits for Galleries Lafayette publicites.

In another position of the "I love Italian movies" here is one more reason. Tonight we watched Le Fate Ignorante- The Ignorant Fairies. It’s a film by a pretty famous Italian director F. Ozpetek. He is known for a specific type of film and is kind of quirky, but I enjoy them. Particularly I enjoy Stefano Accorsi. I have seen him in the Ulitmo Bacio and Santa Maradona (don’t think you can get them in the States- sorry).

He is a great actor and delicious to look at. I usually dont go for the actors "look." He is the first in a long time actually. But there (especially pic# 1 and 21, though 13 and 14 are cute too) is the Italian man of my dreams. Perfetto!

2004-06-18T19:26:00.000+02:00

Anyone Notice??:
Nope my week disappearance makes no difference. Oh well I will find some other way to feel noticed and loved :) I had a lovely time. I will post below some of the minors and today’s wow minutes. Enjoy!

My life feels so damn surreal right now, I am sitting down with my agenda and trying to plan the next three months out, nothing like a calendar and travel to make you say- is this what I am doing? An atom in fusion has NOTHING on me. Bouncing is not the accurate adjective to describe my next three months.

The bad nomad (i.e. me) at the end of this is going to be soooo drained. But hopefully happy too. I have on my plate the following "itinerary" Orvieto-Siena-Florence-Siena-Bologna-Siena-(Birthday)-Florence-Siena-Trieste-Siena-Florence-Milan-Paris-London to Warwick-Bath-Cambridge-Edinburgh-London-Paris (Dear God, Thank Buddha, I will stay put for 6 weeks with a short trip here there maybe) after which I have no clue.

Uncertainty sure is not my friend, she never has been actually. She makes me nervous, and I am not a nervous person, jittery yes- nervous no. I like the concept of knowing where I will oh I don’t know live, what I will be doing, or at least pretending like I do. I want things to be in order, but my life is not that way anymore. Accepting that means I HAVE to live day to day, and be here in the moment, something I am not always talented at. But still… I am guessing after that hit and run of Europe I most likely will then be off to Brussels or Spain with a trip back to pick up my shit and try to stash it somewhere. There are three conferences in there (Bologna, Cambridge, and Paris) and a thesis to write too.

I don’t know if I have the time management skills for this to be honest! But with people leaving last night (a nice Scottish lad :) and a very good friend saying some extremely kind and supportive words, I realized that holy shit this is my life. I am doing it, I am living it. I am happy, sitting here dancing to my music as I type getting ready to go do some reading in the sun. Is this really my life? Am I really as my friend Jeff said an Itinerant Academic?

I don’t always know. I am still not getting all analytical with my critical self but I am feeling slowly a bit better. I constantly confront the "am I making the most of everything everyday?" question. Am living up to my potential that others can see in me but I often struggle to see myself? What did I ever do in a previous life to have this much luck bestowed on me?

When I think back to a year ago, I was unemployed coming from a NASTY and BITTER situation with that last employer and I was sliding by as low as I could. I was slightly hermit kermit the depressed. I wasn’t sure where my life was going to go and I was still only emerging from being a contestant on "Whack You with a Bat," game show. And then through all of my panicking, and with out any warning plop 1-2-3 all together with no time to think it comes together. Bang- I get into graduate school. Bang- I get a fellowship. Bang- I start bouncing and off my life goes.

I might even make the money scrape till the next disbursement and I get to go to the UK! London people freaking LONDON!!! With out my lovely mother, I love her but I can not travel with her. She is the one who doesn’t like to walk, the one who will only stay in Knightsbridge (physically behind Harrods actually), the one who when we only have two days in town gets a migraine for 1.5 of them. Should I resolve to actually try and see something with out her, she is also the same one who will nail one of her hands to the crucifix like the good martyr she can be and says no I will go with you. Two blocks later the woman has broken my steel strong resolve to see the city and I dissolve to the point wherein my only objective is to get back to the hotel as fast as humanly is possible.

So short of that is previous trips have meant all I have seen of London has been from a nice Red Double Decker bus. I get to go to the Tate people! Buckingham palace my friends, I don’t want a picture poking a guard or anything I just want to see more than its hedge. The London Eye, big ferris wheels WHEEEEEE. Oh the things I will see. I get to see friends! I get to go to LONDON.

I see London I see France I’m not… you get the point of my excitement. I was hoping to go to Ireland too (you know the fatherland and all) but it is not looking like that will work out. Instead I am shooting for Edinburgh and maybe Glasgow. It will be fun, I will be broke and well I’ll be there.

And the long and short of it, that is my life. I am no longer a contestant on "Whack You with a Bat." I am now applying for a spot on "Ripley’s Believe It or Not."

2004-06-17T19:07:00.000+02:00

EW EW EW And Boring:
Ok people I am getting annoyed. Not skived or anything but pissed. Really how fucking hard is it to flush a god damn toilet? All you do is hold the big button on the wall. I do not want to see toilet paper- let alone dirty toilet paper. Today the toilet was so SKANK I can't even begin to describe it to you. Really it was that bad.

So I have constructed this little letter:
To all the Italian women who do not flush the toilet,

I am telling you now, you are disgusting and I wish to break you in half like a little stick. You do not want to cross my path, ever. Pray very hard that I am not waiting outside a stall cause the next time I go and you haven’t flushed I am going to be waiting to make you feel like an ass.

Much love,
Tink

As for the rest of my day… well I researched some. I lie; I emailed a bunch and got myself caught up on paranoia. Mostly a dull day. We went out to dinner and I got to meet a cool British guy from the program who is in Berlin. Seems all the really cool (come on he knew about the freaking Raccoon’s cartoon! He could sing Chipmunk songs. He rocks he is my age :) We sat out on the Piazza after a nice dinner and said by to Ali and then came home at 2 am.

Burning both ends of the candles I am aren’t I? Hopefully I will survive somehow. At least I sleep sound.

2004-06-16T19:02:00.000+02:00

EUI Day:
Today has now and forever forward (or at least till I leave Siena) been declared in the hellish after life that is in front of me. Wednesday’s are now to be hence forth known as Florence Research Days (more accurately Fiesole Research Days actually).

Since getting in at around 10:30 pm last night wasn’t enough to keep me tired I woke up early this morning and hopped my pretty skirt onto a bus to Florence. I helped out some Kiwi/Canadian older couples on the way over and pointed them to the duomo before catching my second bus to the library.

This library is the *insert phrase du jour for cooler than all hell*. Now I know this is going to sound odd especially to the Yanks but there are things I once took for granted that now nearly make me wet myself. The books at this library are on the FUCKING SHELVES people! OH good and great Roman Gods, the librarian smiled at me the first time I came when I looked at her in disbelief saying in French that Books on Shelves? She confirmed that I have perfected the French look of Quoi? Not only that ANY book I wanted to look at they have. They have a fair amount of online journal subscriptions and that which they don’t the do have in hard copy.

I am with out internet for most of the day so I am pretty focused and I love it. I even have my own little desk area! And it has a window with a view of the Tuscan country side towards the Duomo in the distance. Very posh and nice distraction I tell you. In addition to this they have a Mensa (Cafeteria) which for 4 euros makes you grilled meat platters that are really good with a side, dessert and drink.

But best of all at about 6:30 pm every Wednesday the institute hosts a string quartet who start warming up at about 5pm. So for the last two hours of my research I have warm sun falling in through the window which I can open and get a fresh wave of the Loggia’s jasmine while looking at a gorgeous rolling Tuscan hill and listen to live classical string music.

Is this real?? It is so bloody amazing. However after 12 hours in a library, with a very nice lunch break getting to eat with a friend who is doing a post-doc at the institute, and a Rapide bus in Ritardo I do come home again one tired pixie. This jittery girl is jittering a lot, and well doing the jitter bug takes more out of you than you think.

2004-06-15T18:57:00.000+02:00

Parting Is So Sweet And Sorrowful:
Today is a kind of sad day. Cec and I leave. But before we can leave we must wander. We decided to wander over towards the Spanish Steps, and then the other side of the Tiber by the Villa Borghese. Then stupid me realized that I left the telefonino at the hostel and needed it to get in touch with Enrico to see about maybe meeting up before I bussed back up North.

We wandered into a few stores. Nothing piqued my interest. We went to la Fontana di Trevi. It’s obligatory. You throw your change over your shoulder to ensure you will come back. Yeah I am sooooo there doing it. Get the hell out of my way you hawker.

After that we wandered some more. My feet have honestly been begging to be amputated for two days now. My legs aren’t too happy either (320 stairs up the dome, walking for over 12 hours a day and some other actions will do that). But I will continue in my pain as I know I will be in my own bed tonight, and really I don’t want the time to end.

We went to the world’s BEST Spaghetteria. I know I am sounding all over effusive but seriously I am not. They had over 60 different pasta sauces you could get, and all were très chi-chi, all were HEAVENLY. I had one with kalamata olives, capers, cream and cheese. I was in orgasmia it was that good. We then went back to the gelateria from last night and pigged out there too. I mean come on you just have to go back for Pine Nut Gelato!

And then the bloating set in. I have been full, but I had never been bloated before. I am the girl other girls hate. I don’t get PMS-y; I am naturally bitchy like that all the time. I don’t get bloated; or I should say I didn’t. My stomach was distended and I couldn’t help staring at it in every window I walked past for the whole day. Completely conscious of feeling like a fat beached whale. I have felt like I was a water retaining sea cow before but this was different. My stomach stuck out and was firm out there. Sucking it up made no difference. Ohhhh this is sooooo no good. This is so very foreign. I do not like this shit.

I was torn. By the end of the day I was so tired. That food and wine combined with the bloating set in the inertia and I was grateful, though seriously depressed to be sending Cec to the airport and sitting at the hostel, doing nothing, blissful nothing. My feet were especially thankful. I even ran into some Norwegian kids and TOTALLY freaked them out by saying a few words to them. Weird lady in crazy country knows our language was plastered all over their faces.

But I am sooo going to miss being able to walk down a street with someone just minding to ourselves, see something and turn to each other and say at the same time- yeah so like the fact that you are flying at me at the speed of light, that you are in a bright blue car with swirling lights wasn’t going to get my attention- you REALLY need the second in the passenger side waving a paddle (you know like the "Hi I am the Tour-Guide FIND ME "paddle with a number on it) so that I will see you. WTF??

As our last event of the day though we did get to brush the frays of celebrity and fame. Turns out Ocean 12 was filming at a hotel on the way to our hostel. So that hand you see in that scene, that is my hand. Great way to end the trip. We said our byes and then headed home. Both of us to CRASH.

2004-06-14T18:54:00.000+02:00

Roma, Roma, Roma:
Today is great. The weather is gorgeous; I am awake early in the morning. This is how mornings are supposed to start you off. My hair is CURLY again today (its been doing this half ass thing for a few years now, makes me appreciate that curly I spent so long trying to make straight).

What could go wrong? Nothing. I spent all the day wandering town and again enjoying time with Cec. We went over to Vatican Land, where you too can buy any kind of Pope Paraphernalia you can imagine. Trust me there is an Indian vendor with it for you- you want a rosary container with an alternating hologram of the Pope-Virgin Mary, Pope-Virgin Mary, Pope-Virgin Mary- I know where to tell you to go.

We went to the Sistine Chapel, it’s my second time and while I think its great I just doesn’t impress upon me like Michelangelo’s Davide or other sculptures. I tend to burn out pretty quick on the whole religious inundation or art work that is often in paintings. Only so many ways you can make Jesus look different on a cross with a crown of thorns. Only so many pictures of a guy (someone from the bible I dunno who) who is smiling looking at clouds with arrows in his quad, his rib cage and arm. I do NOT think he was smiling in reality people. There is some gorgeous stuff there but me I was looking forward to the evening.

That evening we met up with my friend Enrico. Enrico and I lived in Norway together. He is great, sweet, and a bit "traditional" but smart and a big heart that is lots of fun. I met his family when they came to visit and I got to surprise him as since the last time we spoke he didn’t know I could speak Italian. The lovely man he is he put up with my Italian while we waited for Cec to meet up with us and off we went to a Scottish Pub (cause this is what the Italian proposed) and watched the Italy-Denmark European Cup game. Was a somewhat dull game, Italy is a defensive team. There were a few intense spurts of activity otherwise it wasn’t the most exciting of footie games I have watched.

After the game we went to wander Trastavere and the Jewish Ghetto. Made our way to a great restaurant and talked politics. Cause what else do political science geeks do? And then to one of the world’s BEST gelateria. They had some of the most amazing options, me I got a tame one but it was SOOOOO good- Fragoline di Bosco and Straciatella. Alpine strawberry and well Straciatella :)

Unfortunately at this point my dear friend who is now a full fledged technocrat needed to get heading home. It was a work night and we were working on 1am time frames. He did play the chivalry card and walk us back to the station. He is soooo cute, and now single :) It was sooooo good to see him. I am hoping to go back and visit Roma again, and maybe I will get to see him in Bologna (family lives near there).

2004-06-13T18:49:00.000+02:00

Roman Holiday:
I was up till the wee hours of the night last evening. There was this great sounding festa going on in the neighborhood. Siena is finally starting to sound a bit better, they had Salsa Music going. And me I needed to get to bed as I woke up at Ass-Crack O’clock to get on a bus to see Cecily and go to Rome.

Can I tell you it was so worth it waking up early to go somewhere and spend a day with out the Contradini?? It was bliss. I got on the bus rode my way down the AutoStrada and got me to Rome. Dropped my things and got to be with someone who GETS me. You take it for granted when they are there and when they aren’t, lordy does it show.

I met up with Cecily and we completely wandered around. Can I tell you how much of a city girl I am? I LOVE Roma, L-O-V-E IT! I am wandering, I am talking like crazy with her and I am going to the Colloseum. Every other time I have been to Roma it has been closed (once with the Pope giving some speech in it. Seeing the Pope’s face on the Jumbotron in all its "Glory" if his policies didn’t scream the fact that his time iw well past, that well that will convince you quick.) We ate a great lunch. We walked. We walked so much and everywhere.

This trip was EXACTLY what I needed, right when I needed it too. I left behind the people of the group who make me feel odd; I left behind my paranoia insecurity attacks about my dissertation. I didn’t even bring any reading. I left it all behind and went with my friend and relaxed.

Excited doesn’t even begin to describe it. I want to live in Rome now too, one more to add to the list for me. Dinner was a bit unnerving though. We had a pretty damn mediocre dinner. To be honest the place had a nice waiter and we decided to eat at Piazza Navona for the atmosphere. We sat out on the piazza, not exactly the Italian hang out but just a nice place to sit and people watch with some beautiful fountains. Then the red wine came out chilled. That was a bad sign, my carbonara was pretty twiggy and well the clincher for time to leave was seeing a rat come out of the sewer and run for the next restaurant. Roman rats are like NYC rats and well I don’t like rats. I have seen two today and that was enough for me to call it a day.

A glorious day in which I the pasty albino child got enough sun to have lines from where my shoes were, and one in which my feet were thrilled to get out of the shoes. We even had a really nice roommate. A Harvard MPA who had lived in Jerusalem for the past year and was going back to Boston. Life is pretty decent today, yeah it’s more than that.

2004-06-12T18:45:00.000+02:00

Movie Time:
I love watching movies in Italian, ok I love foreign films in general, but lately I have really had a thing for Italian ones. I know it’s weird. But I love Italian films, and even though I only catch about 70% I am still pulled in. Yes some of them are stupid shake your Ta-Ta’s movies but still there are some REALLY good ones out there.

I have a great appreciation for films in general. I may not always know all the details of it but I do know enough to know what I like. Sounds like I am a film buff huh? Well not exactly but I am someone who is appreciative and open. Two of my better qualities if I do say so myself. Come on people I have few virtues, patience sure as hell isn’t one of them; so that is what I bring to the table.

And it’s always nice when Cannes agrees with me. I went to see what I am going to guess in English is Diaries of Motorcycle. It is the story of Che Guevara riding up South America. Now I know V.O. is in Spanish but we got it dubbed in Italian. Given that I am not using my Italian much I am thrilled I could understand as much as I did. They did a good dubbing job and it is a really interesting film. Not to mention a gorgeous certain actor as Che Guevara, yes I drooled through out the movie too.

Two Thumbs Up and the suggestion that you go see it too!

2004-06-11T14:09:00.000+02:00

Sorrow and the Blues:
A great has passed on, and I sure as hell am not talking about Reagan.

Ray Charles has passed away at the youthful age of 73 and I miss him and his piano already. He made me smile, he made me feel music in my soul and he was an influential bridge to so many other musicians.

It is a true loss in the music field of a special man. Man am I bummed. I am going to go listen to him croon the blues.
NYT Article

2004-06-09T11:56:00.000+02:00

Waiting For It:
I am still waiting for it. What is it you might ask? Well there are lots of it’s- however today the it in particular is my brain. To be more precise for the switch in it to flip. I don’t mean just to think. I mean to get to the point where instead of being the happy sponge I currently am with all this literature and research, I actually get feisty and critically analytical with my legal self. When I get past my current stage of regurgitation or what feels like regurgitation and start coming up with questions that don’t sound like they could encompass the entire universe.

I have sent in my thesis proposal and I am hyper paranoid about it, I haven’t said much about it because I want to focus on the positives and not sound paranoid. Cause really I am not miserable or down in despair or anything. I also don’t want to think anymore about how if I don’t get over this first insecurity bump I am going to have to do some steadfast prayers for the Sinead O’Connor look to come back in fashion, or join a Buddhist Convent.

I sat in over-analysis paralysis on the thing for days. I am putting the pressure of the world on my shoulders and if I continue to do so I am going to need to take a side trip to Africa and learn from the women there how to carry all of it more graciously, cause I am currently feeling like a buffoon.

I know that I need to relax. I know that there is potential in what I have proposed for something interesting, even if it is just for myself. And if I do it right I know that I can make it into something that will take me to the next step. I am so set up for success that it is not even funny. I also know I am a perfectionist and the next couple of months working on it are going to be hell.

I am sitting here in the EUI library trying to get my act and proposal together, trying to suck up every piece of research hoping that through reading that one more article I will finally hit that criticall mass necessary and the bloody switch will flip. Why am I doing this still since I have already met my deadline on time you ask?? Well because I am supposed to meet with one SERIOUS big wig here this month and I will not go into that battle unprepared. I want to milk him for everything I can get on ideas direction, feedback and critiques.

I also do not want to look like an ass. Especially as at this point to fail means I am a real ass. I have already gone through the crack me to the core and break the house of cards failure. I am not ready again to have that happen once more on something I think is so right for me. I am not ready to be completely wrong about the direction of my life etc, all over again.

I really want to get back to that point in my life where I had no fear of making mistakes, that I wasn’t so damn risk averse. That I did with out thinking and if something went wrong well I cleaned up and moved on, with out a major hit to the core. I am getting there on some battles (I am speaking Italian whether I sound like an ass or not damnit) but I am failing miserably on others (this bloody dissertation).

If nothing is risked than little is ever gained. And while I theoretically know I need to put myself out there on the shooting line, I haven’t gotten the gumption up yet to do so. I don’t know what it is going to take, but I am ready for that switch to flip over too.

2004-06-08T23:47:00.000+02:00

The Tube Top Fairy Has Arrived:
And man has she come with a vengance. Holy hell from comfortable to hot as Hades in 0.03 seconds. Out of nowhere here comes the blast of summery goodness (or what will be once I have my summery clothes), the sun and of course the heat and humidity have all decended.

Along with my fondness and memories for waterbottles. Yup I sound insane again dont I? But I have vivid memories from last year. Memories of water bottles between my thighs, water bottles on my poochy stomach, water bottles in my clevage. Ahhhhhhh water bottles.

The heat comes out, my internal air conditioning goes on the fritz or strike, and my love affair with cold water bottles starts again.

Water bottle oh water bottle let me count the ways in which I love thee... Heat oh heat let me count the ways I curse thee... and the things I forget. Like skirt plus sweating like a pig equals chafing. Oh yes people summer is here, I just wish there was a bit more of transition (not rain just those pleasant sunny but not sizzling days).

2004-06-08T13:24:00.000+02:00

YEAH GROSS!
Again my friends I bring you another trademark "No Tink ONLY YOU" day.

Ok I dont know what is up with Italian women and toilets. I swear to BUDDHA this is out of control. First the clothes and now this. I have known men with the if its brown flush it down if its yellow let it mellow philospophy but never women. Never in public toilets.

Because I am a graduate student here I get to use the "Reserved" bathrooms. They are nicer and close to the reading room so it all works out. Riiiiiight???

Usually no one is ever in them. And every time I get to one there is toilet paper in the toilet and it has not been flushed. Now I am not the prissy person. This doesnt make me itch, twitch, run in fear of germs or anything. I go and I flush, ok what ever; but today is a whole other issue.

Today there was someone else in the bathroom before me. So me having just burst out laughing from an email giving me some perspective, was waiting for a stall, slightly doing the "I got to go Pee Pee yeah you know me," dance *sung to the Naughty by Nature OPP theme.* (Which by the way side note- in both French and Italian adults with out any hint of it sounding like it might be for children say they must "make" the pee pee, as the catch phrase for I need to go to the bathroom. Just some linguistic information for you- cause any reader I might have is special...)

So out comes the lady, looking like nothing is wrong. She is dressed all fancy in a suit. And walks past me. I walk into the stall and.... you guessed it she hadnt flushed.

Holy hell... I mean it could have been worse with skid marks or something but still, Shit! No way in hell I could walk past someone, looking normal, when I hadnt flushed the toilet. Sure we all forget but, I would turn ten shades of red (and I dont embarass easily) over that. Make me walk topless through the mall sure, not flush the toilet with someone waiting??? This is weird shit (sure ok, pun intended)!!!

2004-06-07T15:32:00.000+02:00

OH JUST GET OVER YOURSELF:
Ok I am so over this cliquish shit, really it is more entertaining than annoying. Especially with evenings like last night.

There are 6 of us girls living in one building. I am sure they are nice and one or two of them seem like they could be cool, but I am not "in" their group. I am the outsider, and I am not that clingy. I draw the line at spending every waking minute in their flat, cause I have one of my own and other things to do. I made friends with the Turkish couple in my flat and also the PhD crowd, and as evidenced by this weekend, trust me it was a PHENOMENAL decision. I mean they are people I would come back to Siena to visit. The girls nice as they are I am not going to go out of my way for either. At the end of the day I simply find the cliquish shit to be lame and so middle school. I am sure they think I am lame because I dont enjoy drinking cheap wine topped up with Coke, or playing drinking games at the neighborhood bar with shitty beer. Anyways... No tears here!

Last Thursday there was a visitor in town so we all went out for drinks. Up pops one of the girls about maybe going to Perugia on Sunday anyone wnat to go. I say I'd go, why not. Oh shit face appears. Start the back pedalling George- there arent any firm plans yet I am told, but she will of course tell me if they make any. WHATEVER. I'll go with Davide when I visit Orvieto, it will be more fun with him anyways. Everytime I go out with most of these people I feel old and I want to go home early. Contrast this with last night where I felt "young" and in my element and well you can guess what I choose. Notice how I am so not crying anyone a river over this...

I try to be nice to the group and I dont intentionally try to exclude myself from them. But I sure as hell dont go out of my way to be with them either. So I see my "roomate" on Saturday and ask if anything was planned. She said nothing really. Look at me Ma- no crying. I have better things to do like knit, read the news in the sun, have lunch with the Turkish couple before we all disperse, groceries- you get the picture.

I didnt see the "roomate" on Sunday but asked her if they did anything Monday morning. Just trying to be nice, show feigned interest, you know that deal. And she says nope. Ok whatever, like I said my fragile ego has survived to this date trough all the tribulations I think I'll make it another day. Said "roomate" is also leaving tomorrow, and so she invited me to a "group" dinner at the same time. No romping event but a decent dinner of the six girls, ok sure- maybe it wont be lame this time. Riiiiight.

Anyways we get to dinner and one of the girls is well.... erm.... searching for polite phrase.... young. I am not talkking about intellect she seems intelligent enough. I mean it in terms of age, life experience, the way she composes herself. Its not a bad thing, really. I dont think she is dumb or anything. I am just older and I see it from a different perspective. Unfortunately she has the attention span of a gnat and is SOOO not the person to trust with a secret. As soon as the food arrives she starts talking about their trip yesterday.

Cue the "roomate's" face of Terror. The " OH SHIT. Shut the hell up- Oh FUCK we have been caught" faces, contortions from "roomate" to kick dizzy-galore and two of the other girls start in on the cover up mission. Way to draw attention to yourselves girls. Seriously Dippy the Shit Stick- this is a tiny town, we are in a tiny program, trust me people there are no secrets. Best to live your life unapologetically as if everyone will know everything- cause they will.

So at this point I am really pinching myself to keep myself from giggling over their OBVIOUS uncomfortableness with the whole situation. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Do you really think I give a damn?? But they were caught. OH NO! I want to fall into peals of laughter. I dont care if they went somewhere with out me. Trust me- I havent got any red eyes over it. I will survive. See??

It really is entertaining to watch people- that I dont really care that much about SCRAMBLE over themselves and becoming uncomfortable, because they think I want into their little group, like a desperate lonely one-r. I was a single child, I can make up imaginary friends if I need company that bad. I am sure they like their group, but its not me. That's not good or bad it just is. I dont offend easily and this whole dance and game just makes me laugh.

But I do seiously want to sometimes turn around with a bitchslap from Shiva and say: GET A GRIP. I DONT GIVE A FLYING RATS ASS. YOU ARE NOT ALL THAT NOR ANY KIND OF CHERRY. OH YEAH AND SERIOUSLY GET THE FUCK OVER YOURSELF!

Instead I am laughing my ass off about it. I know I am a bad person but really, does it get more childish or lame?

2004-06-05T14:30:00.000+02:00

World's Best Weekend:
Really I have to say if you meet REAL Italians you can have a GRAND time. This weekend was one of those instances.

Most of the PhD students are heading out of town so there was a big gathering at one of their houses. It was this gorgeous "vacation" retreat that Francesco uses while he is studying here.

So we take the adventure fourty minutes out of town from the Autostrada to the dirt roads into the woods and countryside of the Tuscan Valley. A beautiful drive should you ever have the chance. Get to this GINORMOUS "vacation" house with a view to a castle- Welcome. This is a house that could and did house 12+ people for a spntaneous sleep over!

We drank sangria and wine, played with cute little month old kitties, the goofy dog, and helped to make pizza on an out door oven and grill meats. Everyone agrees for a "foreigner" I make one KILLER pizza bianca! This is my kind of night out!! But it got better!!! Yeah I am into exclamation points, it was that GOOD!!!!

The music played the weather was FINALLY warm and there were about 25 of us there. Granted the two southerners (Calabria- these men give Italian men a bad name) were pigno nel cullo (pain in the ass in Italian. Or literally translated pinecone in the ass- which I think sounds quite painful having accidentally sat on them in my childhood). Bush was meeting the Pope of Friday and they though themselves cute by a. telling me all day and night "George go Home!" took me a while to figure out what the fuck they were going on about, and b. calling me George. Yeah that is a PRIME way to piss me off. I am only half-American and I didnt vote for the ass so bugger off. By the end of the evening I snapped and made their eyes pop out of their head with the rest of the Italians dying in laughter and amazement that I could and did tell them not only to leave me the FUCK alone but to go FUCK themselves. What dont you know that is the first phrase you must learn in every langauage, I currently know it in 8 of them with aspirations of 3 more now that I have Turkish, Polish and Romanian friends.

But besides the twats, it was so utterly wonderful. Just perfect. Lots of fun, but not like I am a teenager anymore. Being in Siena and having my birthday at the end of the month has reminded me that I have gone through certain stages in my life and some of them are behind me now, unfortunately not many of the people in my program are at that point.

Turns out Francesco has the makings for a discoteca out at the Villa too, and Michaele has the software and music collection of an aspiring DJ. So the rest of the evening was spent dancing with Davide (who can dance pretty damn well) and Cerani when none of the other guys would dance with us cause they were lame, ducking the two Southerners who kept trying to "apologize" to me- I wanted none of that shit!, and being swung around and saved by Chris and Krzysztof.

Then out came desert, REAL Turkish delights and Torta della Nonna with Grappa (the serious shit) and rum for the weaklings. I got to surprise another person in the program who had NO clue that I spoke Italian. Lina was hysterical, for the rest of the evening everything was FANTASTICO about my Italian and later in the evening while drunk my feet were gorgeous too. Dont ask me I havent a clue.

Thank the gods we sent the two drunk twats home and the rest of us who stayed danced outside until about two almost three in the morning. Whew the work out- I'll be feeling it for days. Well all ended up crashing at Francesco's. He is not only a most gracious host but holy hell have I mentioned that he has a HUGE place. Fourteen of us in total slept there with no problems!

Woke up in the morning to a sunshiny bird on the windowsill, Lina or Michaele still sleeping and snoring for that matter and Davide being nice. More amazingly he was talking to me in Italian. That was a bit out of the ordinary as he usually makes fun of my Italian, but I spent all of the previous night trying to get through those first day frustrations of actually transitioning a language, so he must have decided I actually can speak the language. Went out to the garden for "breakfast" at 11 am, and then it was decided that we would eat lunch at the villa too. Ok I am game it is gorgeous and relaxing- why go back to the lame people?? Davide and I went for a walk with Cisco, our trust goofy dog guide. Came back and helped Davide and Francesco cook. Not all Italian men are Mamone! I have photographic proof. These two can fold sheets, cook mean fare and even sweep!

Ebruh and I cleaned up inside while the boys checked the email and hosed down the dog who found some food in the embers from last nights grill. Then we checked email (thank good for technology). We all chipped in and made lunch once Michaele and Chris brought back the groceries. Bread, Salad, Cheese, Prosciutto, Pasta, Wine; it all tastes better in the Italian countryside with good company. Really sounds cheesy but its true. Finally after "lunch" (at 4:30 pm) which lasted a few hours and involved soaking up some of the sun that has come out- it was time to go home. Back to the city and disbanding... the sorrow.

End of the deal though is that real Italians are my kind of people, the quasi ones tie my tits in a knot and grate them. I am so glad that I am ending my time here spending time with the real ones. I get to go visit two of them in their "locales" before I leave and I CANT WAIT!!!

2004-06-03T15:41:00.000+02:00

Bugs:
In general I do not like bugs. Some of them are just stupid, others bite and there is no better way to piss me off than to bite me (we are not talking love bites here people).

I grew up with an intense hatred for ants and flies. I grew up in Arizona with the nastiest ants you could meet. As a child I searched for the ant hills and took distinct pleasure in doing a stomping dance on them and any ants I could see. I am sure that I was reported in the news of the massacre in some ant newspaper. But the bite and bites hurt!

Even worse were the flies at the dairy. No matter how many you swat there are more. And they always wanted to fly in my hair. I wanted nothing to do with them. To this day the sight of a bug makes me itch and I am not necessarily fond of sitting in grass with out a decent sized blanket, I twitch each time the grass moves thinking it might be an ant.

And today I am sitting here trying to finalize the last bits of my dissertation proposal, and get past my inadequacies and insecurities about it. Who do you think siddles up to me? The dumbest Horsefly (HUGE ASS fly) I have seen in a while.

He keeps making figure eights by the chair. Stops and lands somewhere and then figure eights again. I keep waving my bits about to make him go do it elsewhere. But stay he does and figure eight he does. I can only guess he keep looking at the terra cotta tiles circling about to try and find his death spot. (You know flies only have a three day lifespan- gives new meaning to the life every day as if it were the last in your life)

I don’t have the heart or attention to try and kill the stupid bug today but well since I am brain dead this is what I blog about...

2004-06-02T15:43:00.000+02:00

Amazement:
For the first time tonight I let it in, I let it loose, I let. I have been here a month and a half and simply not been here. Well tonight I was in Italy and I was soaking in every glorious minute.

I spent most of the day cooped up in the flat working like a dog on my dissertation proposal. I nearly pulled every last hair out and have bald spots to prove it trying to get this thing to gel. I was pissy too as the day started with the fucking drummers. My roommate got a chuckle out of my- eyes half opening and commenting “fuckers it’s not Sunday.” No its not Sunday, its Wednesday and it is a national holiday so this time the drummers come with trumpeters and a brass band- complete with feathers on their heads. I would have thought I was in Germany if I didn’t know better. Wonder why I have so many pictures from my window- Too fucking lazy to get out of my pajamas to go down and see that shit.

Piss, Fuck, Bugger, Moan, Groan- everything will be shut since it’s a holiday, including the university. Great. I wanted to work somewhere I could focus, use the internet… and yet somehow here at the flat I managed to gather things together. The proposal is more than what the deadline requests, its somewhere in between this deadline and the next and it is definitely beyond the scope of what I can do in the dissertation- but I can work to narrow it down some and that is what is up next. All this means though that by some miracle of providence, I am ahead of the game! Me the one who is always a day late and a dollar short. I am beside myself with what to do.

Note to self though… wait till Monday or Tuesday to send it or else French Advisor will continue to flip you shit about being on time. If only he knew the truth.

And at about 9:30 pm I realize I must get out of the flat. And I am willing to get out of the flat. This is not the normal path... hmm... I am delusionally thinking one of the two internet places might be open, but I figure even if they aren’t I need to get out, I want to get out. I can’t stay in all the time, it just is not right. So I will walk some and move and get some fresh air. I will get a gelato.

As you can guess the internet places weren’t open, but instead an amazing thing happened, I was in Italy. I finally let down my annoyances and barriers with Siena and I enjoyed the evening. I got a scrumptious and drippy gelato that I happily slurped to the last bit of the cone. I wandered to take advantage of the night time shots and played with taking some night time photography.

I enjoyed the fact that there were little to no people and those I did see weren’t all tourists. I sat in front of the church, having it all to myself. I walked through the park, enveloped by a deliciously heady scent of cut grass with dew and sweet jasmine permeating everything green. I listened to some great Latin music that was being sung live somewhere over the hill and I felt the cool breeze go through my hair. Each single hair. I looked at the moon, which was ripe full and there for the munching by clouds. I got to watch some of a lightning fest, and I love lightning.

But most importantly I was there. Thank god I was there, sucked in and present in the moment, not wishing to be anywhere else. Just doing my own passegiata and being in Italy. Couldn’t have come a moment too soon.

2004-06-01T14:31:00.000+02:00

Priceless:
People ask why I study politics, really I have all sorts of reasons but this this tops them all.

European Parliament elections are coming up. Sure I have to deal with Berlusconi (the one who made Italy a European laughing stock last summer and pissed the Commission off as much as the Poles have) all over but with the expansion of the EU to include new member states on May 1st I get this kind of entertainment....

Euroglamour

These candidates are almost as good as the California gubernatorial run offs.

First there is an Estonian 25 year old supermodel who wants to give something back to Estonia. Then there are the Polish athletes; hey going to the Olympics is good political qualifications you know. There is an astronaut or two thrown in for good measure. Long time Italian journalist for RAI who reported from Iraq recently until she resigned in protest against Berlusconi and his media influence- Lilli Gruber is another option. And on a more intellectual note there are two Nobel Laureates on the ballots too. Shame that the Portuguese are short sheeting Jose Saramago, who is running as a Communist (the party is not dead yet, though Mr. Saramago is getting there himself). Actually shame he is short sheeting himself. Asking to be put low on the ballot so he wont win- why the fuck be on the ballot in the first place then?? (For those who dont know about European elections, its not like the US. You vote for a party and you have a listing from which you can only choose a certain amount, thus the placement of the people on the ballot is a strategic political manoeuvre)

But the all time best- especially after seeing the picture sheesh she is scary is Katerina Bochnickova, otherwise known as Dolly Buster- the Czech Porn Star. She is running under the party previously known as the Independent Erotic Initiative.

Come on that is some funny shit!

2004-06-01T11:18:00.000+02:00

And The Winner Is:
Hide if you have sensitive sensibilities or are prudish. Because if you havent guessed it yet I am not.

Well when I wasnt able to make an appointment with Isabelle at the Yves Rocher while in Paris, I knew I would have to test out the Italian options.

Yes I went in for the bikini wax this morning and really it doesnt even compare. The French they have won with out a doubt. I had the worlds longest bikini wax this morning. Really 40 minutes (never had one before that took over 10 minutes, maybe 15 with Isabelle) with a parade of people walking in and out and the lady answering the phone. It was odd and a bit disconcerting as each time they opened the door I felt like I was flashing the whole lobby. I am not modest but I am sure they didnt want to see a flash at 9 am either. She wasnt near as meticulous and damn it I am not walking around like a porn star today. It was actually mediocre, at least it was cheap.

I however am now planning my appointments with Isabelle and scheduling my trips accordingly.