Frolicking

I'm not gonna lie, one of my major motivating factors to work out is the chance to slip into some short pajama shorts. My legs miss the freedom of pre-mission days like you would even believe. Frolic is the most cupcake word possible but you know what, that is what them shorts inspire: frolicking. Teaspoon, my youngest sister, has the cutest American Eagle shorts. They are pink and short and plaid and incredibly girly. I don't own shorts anymore, much less pajama shorts. She lets me borrow them and it is like slipping on a token of my summer-time youth. Now, I'm not scandalous or anything, but honestly, every girl should be allowed to run around her own basement in a pair of pink skimpies.

Thanks to running, a treadmill, bare feet and the bitter cold, I get to do that a few times a week.

Life is good. Good enough for me to begin, and end, in under 150 words; a rarity.

Almost a delicacy, but not quite.

A Year of Plenty, A Decade of Sound

I have officially been inspired. Being the list-lover that I am, I started to make a list of the books I'd read this year and the concerts I'd gone to. That in turn made me want to make a playlist for 2009. Then I was checking out my cher ami Winston's blog and he highlighted the past decade of his life. So I attacked that project too and failed miserably. Summarize? Yeah, way beyond my remote concern of being condescending. Oh, oops, that would be the Shins slipping into my subconscious and finishing my sentences. Beyond my capacity is what I meant to say. The past 10 years have been full of awesomeness, but because I can't summarize to save my life you don't get to hear about it, it's far too personal what I've come to write about. I've gone as far as summarizing 2009, complete with my aforementioned lists (in no particular order):

Bands seen in concert:

Joshua James
Imagine Dragons
The Devil Whale
Horse Feathers
The Sounds
Ting Tings
The Killers
1964-Beatles Tribute
Sea Wolf
Band of Annuals
Andrew Bird


Books Read:

The Hero and The Crown
Goose Girl, Enna Burning, River Secrets, Forest Girl
Marie Antoinette-The Journey
Persuasion
1984
Tale of Two Cities
The Book Thief
Milkweed
The Wanderer
Howl's Moving Castle
The Last Unicorn
Twilight Series
The Kite Runner

In French:
Eragon
Le journals d'Aurore: Jamais contente
Le journal d'Aurore: Toujours fachée
Demain la lune


And a summary of 2009:

The first full year back from my mission. Milestones: First full year as a teacher and never happier with my job and the people I work with. First trip to Hawaii. First time skinny dipping (yep, Hawaii). First time watching fireworks from the beach (Marseille). First visit to Prague. First time I have ever run over 2 miles.

High(and low)lights:

I went back to France after swearing to myself in 2004 that one day I would. That it turn, inspired this blog.

Our kitchen is finished, our basement as well, and Cat now comes when I call him.

I decided not to even attempt to pursue getting an MFA in Creative Writing and started writing again.

I got in my first wreck in my car: cement parking pillar meets front driver's end while backing out in a moment of complete-if not nauseated induced-idiocy.

St. Valentine pays my throat and nice visit and leaves me with a present in the form of Strep.

All my former companions return from their missions and daughter #3-Monterrosa-and I, with my sister Amy in tow, embark for Cali to live up spring break 09.

I live 2 months in Marseille and learn that I would rather live where it is too cold than too hot.

Grandpa Brady passes away.

I start reading my scriptures in Spanish again, so I'm slowly getting up to speed with my Spanish again.

I learn that I am sensitive to Gluten. And soy. And milk. And that everyday life without those things is not as impossible as I would have thought.

Still haven't been camping since 2006, and that is my biggest regret of 2009. Not bad, my friends, not bad at all.


I thought this was all I had to say. Ha.


But THEN, in an unbidden stroke of genius, I realized that all those unsummarizable moments of the past decade could be instantaneously summoned, summarized, and made personal and yet accessible if I put them in list by way of the songs that I associate with each year. So yes, there is some chronology that comes into play, especially during my younger years when I, like everyone else, just listened to the radio and ate what was fed to me. But a lot of these songs remind me, not only of an era, but of places I went, people I met, those I hung out with. Each song beckons a memory and that memory is more or less nestled in the year listed more than any other time. Some songs are generic, juvenile even. They are not necessarily my favorite songs. Some have a lot of memories and I could have listed them every year. I tried to limit myself. Considering my original goal of 5 songs per year, I theoretically failed miserably; I gave up limiting myself to numbers and tried to stick to limiting myself to excessive overlapping of artists and songs. Some are reflective of my dancing habits more. Some people evoke a lot of songs. Some songs evoke a lot of people. Some evoke one place so particular that the song evokes a physical memory, so precise that the only way I can get back to that place is by listening to that song. That, is why music is the lifeline of my decade past and many decades to come. But the best part is, that while this is my list, it might be yours as well at some intersection of time and sound in that strange realm where memories are kept alive by the beat of a kickdrum.

So here you are, 2009 in all its glory followed by the songs of my past 10 years (again, the songs listed are in no particular order):

Songs for 2009: The Year of Plenty
1. Heartbeats-Jose Gonzalez
2. Bunny Ain’t No Rider-Of Montreal
3. Sometime Around Midnight-Airborne Toxic Event
4. If Work Permits-The Format
5. Stay Away From Me-Honorary Title
6. Anonanimal-Andrew Bird
7. Only Four Songs and A Fight-The Sounds
8. Loveshack-B-52’s
9. Slow Pony Home-The Weepies
10. Run-Leona Lewis
11. I Feel it All-Feist
12. Closer-Kings of Leon
13. Your Love=Math The Devil Whale
14. Poker Face-Lady Gaga
15. Tony the Beat-The Sounds (Just do it, do it do it do it !)
16. Comme Des Enfants-Coeur de Pirate
17. Somewhere Over the Rainbow-Israel
18. Flightless Bird-Iron and Wine
19. Portions for Foxes-Rilo Kiley
20. Timelapse Lifeline-Maria Taylor
21. You Belong With Me-Taylor Swift
22. Lisztomania-Phoenix
23. Baby I’m a Fool-Melody Gardot
24. Falling Through the Roof-Horse Feathers
25. Dangerous-Joshua James

2008-The Comeback
1. Masterfade-Andrew Bird
2. Be the One-Ting Tings
3. Start a War-The National
4. How it Ends-Devotchka
5. Australia-The Shins
6. Paper Planes-MIA
7. Wilco-True Love Will Find You in the End
8. Live Your Life-TI
9. Viva La Vida-Coldplay
10. Disturbia (Scurvy Love)-Rihanna
11. 15 Steps-Radiohead
12. Origin of Love-Rufus Wainright
13. Shut Up I’m Dreaming of A Place Where Lovers Have Wings-Sunset Rubdown
14. Down Boy-Yeah Yeah Yeah’s
15. Kids-MGMT
16. See You Again-Miley Cyrus


2007-The Mission (Besides EFY and Enya, I had songs that were constantly and recurring in my head. I didn’t choose them, they chose me. There are a few others I heard in stores or while waiting for car repairs. And a few others that we listened to to keep us sane-ie, Amelie)
1. A Decade Under the Influence-Taking Back Sunday
2. Hey Jude-The Beatles
3. Hallelujah-Jeff Buckley
4. Bringing Sexy Back-Justin Timberlake
5. If You Were A Sailboat-Katie Melua
6. Hey There Delilah-Plain White T’s
7. How To Save A Life-The Fray
8. You Are A Runner and I Am My Father’s Son-Wolf Parade
9. If You Could Hie To Kolob
10. Amelie Soundtrack


2006-The Summer of my Life
1. Under Pressure-David Bowie
2. Know Your Onion-The Shins
3. Evil-Interpol
4. Walking With A Ghost-Tegan and Sara
5. Boat to Row-Band of Horses
6. Open Invitation-B.R.M.C.
7. Land Locked Blues-Bright Eyes
8. The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack-The Liars
9. Leif Erikson-Interpol
10. How to Disappear Completely-Radiohead
11. Anything You Want-Spoon
12. Over My Head-The Fray
13. Dinner Bells-Wolf Parade

2005-Lenderlab & The Bronco II
1. Don’t Speak-No Doubt
2. Slow Night, So Long-Kings of Leon
3. The End Has No End-The Strokes
4. I Summon You-Spoon
5. Like Eating Glass-Bloc Party
6. Exit Music (For A Film)-Radiohead
7. Let Go-Frou Frou
8. Hide and Seek-Imogen Heap
9. The Rat-The Walkmen
10. The Promise-When In Rome
11. Only Difference Between Martydom and Suicide-Panic at the Disco
12. Bandages-Hot Hot Heat
13. Boys Don’t Cry-The Cure
14. Harder to Breathe-Maroon 5
15. We Used to Be Friends-Dandy Warhols
16. Monkey Gone to Heaven-The Pixies

2004-Study Abroad in France & Misc European Travels
1. A Different City-Modest Mouse
2. Somewhere Out There-Our Lady Peace
3. Midtown-No Place Feels Like Home
4. New Slang-The Shins
5. Maps-Yeah Yeah Yeahs
6. Somebody Told Me-The Killers
7. Time is Running Out-Muse
8. I Believe in a Thing Called Love-The Darkness
9. Quelqu’un M’a Dit-Carla Bruni
10. Such Great Heights-The Postal Service
11. Everlong-Foo Fighters
12. When You Come Back Down-Nickel Creek
13. Chemicals Between Us-Bush
14. Smells Like Teen Spirit-Nirvana
15. Chocolate-Snow Patrol
16. The Luckiest-Ben Folds
17. In the Shadows-The Rasmus

2003-Freshman year
1. Always – Saliva
2. No One Knows-Queen of the Stone Age
3. Seein’ Red-Unwritten Law
4. Down-311
5. Hands Down-Dashboard Confessional
6. Hurricane-Something Corporate
7. Not A Pretty Girl-Ani Difranco
8. Freshmen-The Verve Pipe
9. Hey Ya-Outkast
10. Seven Nation Army-The White Stripes
11. The Warmth-Incubus
12. Lightning Crashes-Live
13. Young and Hopeless-Good Charlotte
14. Girls not Grey-AFI


2002-18
1. One More Time-Daft Punk
2. Warning-Incubus
3. Taste of Ink-The Used
4. I’m Like A Bird-Nelly Furtado
5. Complicated-Avril Lavigne
6. Pretty Girl – Sugarcult
7. Not A Pretty Girl-Ani Difranco
8. Running Away-Hoobastank
9. A Thousand Miles-Vanessa Carlton
10. Can’t Get You Out of My Head-Kylie Minogue

2001-The Year the Towers Fell
1. Amber-311
2. Days of the Phoenix-AFI
3. Say it Ain’t So-Weezer
4. Best I Ever Had-Vertical Horizon
5. Hanging By A Moment-Lifehouse
6. Cowboy Take Me Away-Dixie Chicks
7. Authority Song-Jimmy Eat World
8. Chop Suey! System of a Down
9. Everywhere-Michelle Branch
10. Independent Women-Destiny’s Child
11. Drops of Jupiter-Train
12. Blurry-Puddle of Mudd
13. Wherever You Will Go-The Calling

2000-Sweet Sixteen
1. Yellow-Coldplay
2. Wonderwall-Oasis
3. Californication-Red Hot Chili Peppers
4. Superman’s Dead-Our Lady Peace
5. Anna’s Song-Silverchair
6. Here With Me-Dido
7. 3 Libras-A Perfect Circle
8. All the Small Things-Blink 182
9. Bye Bye Bye-Nsync
10. I Hope You Dance-Lee Ann Womack

The Stethoscope: a not-so-Christmas poem

I have been in a poetic mood lately. Sometimes I try to resist this fact because everything I come up with seems to originate from the same vein. It's getting a little old. Real old, in fact. This is precisely why I need to travel more, read more, and forget less. Now, I'm not sure about the whole blogging my poetry thing. This blog's namesake still hasn't been posted and I feel like that should come first. But what the heck, I'll get crazy and mix things up a bit.

I wrote this this morning.

(As a side note, you know, I think we need to reinvent certain aspects of the English language. Like the usage of demonstrative pronouns.Proposal: if you are using a demonstrative pronouns that is also a complematizer or if you are using two demonstrative pronouns, there should be a dash between the second demonstrative pronoun and its noun. So that this sentence would read "I wrote this this-morning". And the sentence,'Don't forget that that cat has really sharp claws' would read 'Don't forget that that-cat has really sharp claws'. Because really the nouns in their abstract senses are "this morning" and "that cat". I recognize that I am a huge nerd and that no one cares, but we should think about it anyway.)

And so here's the disclaimer: I know that this has nothing to do with Christmas. Not even winter. But actually it's kind of the versified brain child of my last post, which is why I'm posting it here.

All the same, Christmas was wonderful. I hope yours was as well. Joyeux Noel.
(Yeah, I just stuck that there to make a rhyme. What did I tell you: poetic.)


The Stethoscope

Living happens quietly

like the stealth of breath into the lungs

and diffused, unseen, unheard into those small rooms

from whence something else emerges.

Like the roll of the sea, like rock eroding to sand,

or a raindrop that cuts through a summer breeze.

Like the heart and its whispering.

Quietly.


But life happens in the beating of a heart, the pounding

throbbing, music beginning: sound.

And it’s not a pretty sight,

our coming into this world; desperate, wailing.

Loud.

Exert, and the breath gives itself away,

sometimes gets caught in the chest,

sometimes frantic to get out.

And the roll of the sea can become a roar,

a crashing of foam on boulders,

or a torrent that thunders while winds howl.


Measured breath, measured beat;

sometimes living happens suddenly.

For all of our planning, life can abrupt and exert,

immerging us in its sounds;

not always a pretty sight

but a delicious, deep, resounding call.

from whence something else emerges.

Yes, love can happen quietly.


But I,

I am no whisperer.

I'm going to ignore the fact that I haven't written on this thing in months. I skipped an entire season, that's how long it's been. And it was wonderful, this fall. We actually had an autumn, despite what everyone else says. I say we had a nice, decently long autumn. When it comes to writing here, I'm just going to completely ignore what everyone else says.

So yes. Fall was wonderful but I'm not going to attempt to paraphrase the last 4 months more than that.

And now, onto why my life currently rocks.

My little sister, Lisa, comes home in 3 days. And she has been through a semester of French and needs to get ready for another one. Will I be forcing French films and expressions on her? You bet I will. My poor puppies need a break. Cat will always be spoken to in French though. He is weird, obsessed with food, and temperamental. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be French. So yes, I am excited to have non-cat entity in my home with whom I can pester with my endearing French accent. Also, I'm in a mean crunch for a dancing buddy. I have a lot of energy lately and therefore need more dancing. And since I'm too old for those old habits I will borrow from Lisa's youth.

I am about to embark-2 hours and counting-on a mission of festive cheer for my fourth graders. I'm in charge of the unit for Christmas around the World for my 4 year olds. Nestled in the back of one of my books I got for them was a recipe for Speculoos. Apparently these things are huge in Dutch countries but also in Belgium and especially around Christmas. Like I've ever heard of them. I'm honestly the least cultured cultured person I know. And sometimes, I'm not gonna lie, I get really bored with France. I mean, I'm a French teacher. I love the language and I love teaching the language. But you know, sometimes I feel the need to embrace the often passed over French speaking countries of the world. So this year, or at least this Christmas, I'm focusing on Belgium. I have to sample the recipe tonight as well as a Swedish recipe for my preschoolers and see how they turn out. If all goes well, we'll be making delicious gluten free Swedish chocolate and coconut balls on Wednesday and the Belgian equivalent to gingersnaps on Thursday. I should probably note that I don't even like gingersnaps. Or gingerbread. I hardly like snickerdoodles. The reason is obvious: where's the chocolate? That's a rhetorical question, in case you were wondering. My biased taste obviously goes for Wednesday's Christmas treat but really, I just feel warm and fuzzy thinking how much fun my kids are going have. Especially my fourth graders. Poor things. They've spent the last month having to listen to me telling them how awesome, fun and magical verb conjugations are. I told you, didn't I? Monstrous liar.

On another note, our house is almost done. Only those who have had to live through 13 years of renovation can truthfully appreciate this. Not that I'm complaining. Okay, so maybe I am. These past three weeks without a kitchen or my big screen tv and cuddly couch have been rough. Not to mention I don't have rockband to healthily work out my aggression. But that excessively warm basement, t.v. room and and its haphazard furnishings have come to represent what I love most about Christmas. And I haven't quite felt like it (Christmas) could be coming knowing that the room is empty and often echoing with the sound of Cat's meowing. He is such a vain whine bucket. And don't even get me started on the kitchen. Two weeks off of school with most everyone working means I will have time to kill, and by jolly I will kill that time and my tidy wasteline in the kitchen in the remainder of this, the winter of 2009.

I was working on my house helping my dad (barely) Thanksgiving day and I got all emotional and started writing about my house. It's a weird thing to get sentimental over, I know, and while I was trying to write about it I realized how pointless it is to really try to explain. The fact of the matter is, I feel like I've grown up with that house. And I have to see it through to the end. When it is done, I will be done growing there. That seems like a cop out for still living at home at the age of 25. Maybe it is. But it feels true. I'm stubborn like that, about seeing thing through to the end. And I'm bad at closing doors. But this one is on it's way shut, which means that this is the last of the kind of Christmases I've always known.

Last but not least, my life rocks because I'm running again. Despite the annoying and mostly gluten free regime which has been my life since September, I have more energy than I've had in a long time. Yes, school is wonderful this year and yes I am working (tutoring in the evenings) a lot less. But there are a lot of days when I am so full of energy that I just start laughing. Like when I get in my car and plug in my ipod. Or when I fall on the ice on my previously bruised tailbone. I never know what's going to set me off. I know that part of this energy comes from running and that being able to run again is in part due to me being more healthy. If all goes according to schedule, I should hit the 5 mile mark during Christmas break. If you had told me that 6 months ago I would have told you to shut up. I really do need to work on that whole polite business. It manifests a complete lack of elegance. And I am nothing, if not elegant.
.
.
.
Wow. Shut up.

I should note since I probably won't actually get around to it even though I have the best intentions to, that apart from the particulars, life rocks because I have no idea where my life is going and I am okay with that. That doesn't mean I don't obsess over it occasionally once a week. But there are a lot of unknown variables and a lot of knowns that are thorns in my side. And yet (this is my third syntactically incorrect sentence in a ROW and that makes me even more happy) I feel like I'm okay with those knowns and unknowns because somewhere along the way I ceded control to a degree. This means that I've become horrifically inefficient in a lot of ways; there's always a give, right. In the larger sense, it means I'm ready for whatever comes at me.

Last night someone asked me if I would consider myself an indecisive person. I don't think I even responded verbally. I just laughed. And laughed. And then laughed. Yeah. Awkward. Then I said that I'm the kind of person that things have to just happen to. I didn't really think about it, I just kinda said it. And then when I went to explain it I realized how true that was. I love those ah-ha moments when you understand in a half of a second something that takes paragraphs, pages, hours sometimes, to explain.

You see, I am the kind of person that good things have to just happen to because I usually try to talk myself out of things. And I'm also the sort of person that, when bad things happen, I am a lot more capable of dealing with than I would have foreseen. My problem is that I'm somewhat of a control freak and I like to plan for the good and plan for the bad. Sometimes being a goal orientated person is less than peachy. For such a logical person, I can be ridiculously illogical at times. Maybe that's what it was, maybe the illogicalness of it all finally clicked. Or maybe I was finally able to let go of the details. Either way, it's about time I stopped fighting myself on that account.

I have a couple of quotes that have been on my bulletin board for years. One by Emily Dickinson, "The soul should always stand ajar ready to welcome the ecstatic experience" and by Cormac McCarthy: "Between the wish and the thing, the world lies waiting". Sure, I have some things, some wishes. But I don't want to miss out on what's going on around me because my I'm only focused on them.

In a nutshell, what I mean to say is this:

2009 is almost over. And it rocked my socks off; totally exceeded my expectations. I'll be sad to see it go, to tell you the truth.

2010: I'm ready and waiting.

Of pebbles, sunsets, and castles

8/13/2009

Dear Blog,

Went hiking on the rocky cliff-ish hills that line Marseilles coastline, otherwise known as the Calanques [Kal-onk]. It was Joel, the sea, and me for 45 minutes. Oh, and that Frenchie who was hiking back wearing only his speedo, backpack and hat. I often underestimate the French's appreciation for nature.

I saw this:













I spent three hours in and out of the water, which was blue and crystalline and just the right temperature. I laid on my back in the water, laid perfectly still, and let the water and my deep breathing keep me there. The water make a weird clicking sound and I tried to not think about the boats next to me and how polluted the water must be. I wished I knew water yoga. And that they would make an underwater mp3 player complete with waterproof headphones/buds.

Then I fell asleep on pebbles listening to three French kids building a stone and stick castle which they abandoned to play other games. One girl, two boys; brothers, Arthur and Frederick. I learned the names quickly because the girl did most the talking and was always calling them by name, giving orders. Some things have nothing to do with culture and everything to do with chromosomes.

We hiked/walked back to the sun setting. And I couldn't help but to think that you know, with the wind blowing in my hair, Marseille is worth the hot days. I just need to get out and enjoy them is all.







Sunsets. They're like that.

P.S. It's about time you get a nickname. My current proximity with the French language has me thinking about the gender of nouns. I want to say that "blog" sounds like a masculine noun. So your nickname has to be manly. Manly nicknames? Not exactly my forte.

Monstrous Liar

I am literally melting as we speak. It is 8:31 pm and I am fanning myself with my hand it's so wretchedly hot here. I have been sweating since I woke up (10:45). I haven't changed out of my pajamas because honestly, what's the point? I'm just going to make anything I change into gross too. I HAVE brushed my hair, my teeth, and washed my face. Go me. I also made Navajo tacos for my family for lunch today, did some dishes, vacuuming and mopping and that's about it.

I know I am going to have a hard time leaving this place but I am glad that this life is not my fate. I haven't worked out in probably a month, my clothes are starting to dig into my waistline, I spent all day eating candy. Not chocolate; candy. I never waste my time with candy normally. And the worst part is, I don't even care. I am not depressed; I am melting. I was not made for the French life of having 5 weeks of summer. My new motto is "vacation kills motivation". I can't wait to get back to my JOB, my kids, my room in the basement that is so cool it doesn't even need air conditioning in the summertime. Friends, I like you too. Family, don't whine, you too.

I could have just said that I was grateful for a job, air conditioning, and my normally healthy lifestyle. But they would have been empty words without my whining coming first.

Anyway, lately all I feel like writing on this blog are things that would strictly infringe upon my "discretion policy". Which leads me to a pretty good question: what is the point of having a blog and knowing interesting people if most of those interesting people read your blog and wouldn't appreciate my insightful observations of them in all their glory?

I don't know what this says about me, but it seems like a lot of said observations are often incriminating. Especially when they concern me, and they often do. So I keep my mouth shut. Does this mean I am living a lie? Or that I am one of those monsters of a person who only derives meaning from life by mocking others?

I'm reading that silly girlie book still. Actually, I'm on the second in the series. I laugh out loud every time I read it. It's basically a fictional character's journal. And it's hilarious. Everyone I make read it hear agrees with me that it's funny. Even the guys. I'm seriously considering contacting (like I know how) the publishing powers that be to see if I could do the English translation. I'm sure I would do a good job, reading that book is like reading my life. And then my French would actually be useful. When I told people that I was a French major they wouldn't do that nod where they mutter something like "nice" all while checking out my shoes. No, I could say "yeah I'm a French major and I translated that hugely successful girlie book you've heard all about". Because it would be hugely successful. Trust me. Though that would be an ironic entry into the world of publication; not publishing my own work but translating someone else's. It's so ironic it just might happen: irony is one of my life's operating principles.

All this to say that I love this book that is like a girl's journal, or blog. And it's gotten me thinking. Conclusion, if I weren't me, I would find my life hilarious. And if I were to write a book about my life, people would read it, dangit. But no self respecting person can sell themselves out like that. I think we only laugh at fiction like that because we relate so much to it. Laughing is like a confession, it's liberating. But if what you were to read WEREN'T fiction, well reality might make you blush instead. I know I would. And you know what, I bet everyone feels the same way; that their life is publishable material but that they couldn't look themselves in the mirror knowing that everyone knew their deep dark oddities. It's like they say, about truth being stranger than fiction. Too much truth is too much strangeness, we can't handle it.


You know what I think I'm going to do? I'm going to start a whole new blog, entitled Monstrous Liar. I will be the only one able to access and read it and at last I will be able to write whatever the heck I feel like. No editing. No lies. I won't tell anyone the address but I will leave it in my will, by way of clues in the form of lyrics. It's really a shame. I live a funny life surrounded by amusing and interesting people that don't always know they are amusing or interesting. Plus I inherited the art of exaggeration from my father so even if they aren't amusing or interesting, I can usually make them sound that way. I can do wonders with people who are annoying. The world at large could benefit from my humoristic if not tactless and sarcastic observations.

But until I die and the person who I deem worthy of my blog password finds and makes public my blog, the world will have to wait for my translation of this book, which is basically the equivalent to Monstrous Liar aka My Life.


If you have to know, Prague was wonderful. Remember that bit about lacking motivation? Yeah, well details and pictures are coming. Later.

All these people that you've loved they're all bound to leave keepsakes

I seem to not have the energy for a blog right about now. Even though I'm a week behind. I'll spare you the whining I just highlighted and deleted. If only I could do that with my conversation. That would spare me so many nights mulling over all the idiotic things I wish I hadn't said. My life in rough draft. If I had a super power, that would be it: to have a rough draft and final version of everything I undertook. Maybe even two rough drafts, for good measure.

Speaking of life, William provided me with some great insight a couple weeks back at the dinner table. (Yes, the dinner table. In light of my last post, this is hardly astonishing). We put the dinner table pretty much right in front of the big screen every night. I normally have the best seat and the best view, as it's me that faces said tv screen. On this particular evening, we had some tall plastic water bottles on the table instead of the usual pitcher. These bottles inevitably blocked my view and I didn't really realize it until I poured myself some water and then tried to put the bottle back somewhere where no one's view would be obstructed. It just wasn't happening, such a place did not exist. Then Will takes the bottle from me, pours, and puts it back where I got it. "C'est ca la vie," he adds. That's life. "Parfois on n'a pas la belle vue. Parfois oui." Sometimes you don't have a great view. Sometimes you do.

My twelve year old philosophy was something like this: life should be fair. Fair meaning of course that everyone was entitled to great views all the time. I'm still suffering from disillusionment but it's not like I wasn't warned, though. Dad was always telling me that life wasn't fair and I was always telling him that he was wrong and that it should be. Maybe if he had said it in French it would have sunk in. Maybe if he had said it over the dinner table. Maybe if I had rough draft super powers I could rewrite myself more realistic.

I think I'm going to work on this one in spurts. It's bound to be random but less forced.

Right now I feel like telling you that I am going to Prague on Friday. I may not even publish this before I go. I am pretty excited, I guess. James and I were talking the other day about how when you first get to a place you have all these "holy cow I can't believe I'm here" moments. You start living in a place long enough and those "wonder moments" get fewer and fewer. Like everything else in life, they need maintaining. We had this conversation on a boat on our way to see the Calanques. I remember saying that I was enjoying myself but I was especially enjoying thinking about how a year from now I would look back and think what a lucky girl I was to have the chance to go boating on the Mediterranean. Just thinking about the nostalgia I would experience made enjoy myself even more.

Then, I am reading this hilarious girly book to pass my time on public transportation. The narrator is complaining about her sister, and in reference to the Harry Potter books she says "I wonder what my sister prefers: standing in line to buy the book or reading it. I think it's standing in line." While yes, I love reading the books, I definitely love the standing in line part. And then I love talking about it afterward. The actual reading process is a bit hazy, in all reality. So I suffer from anticipation and nostalgia, both of which prevent me in a sense from living in the present, one might say. It's a tendency I can't ignore. But since I am not working myself up over Prague I can't decide if I'm just in denial that I'm going (something like it being too good to be true), if I'm in "wonder moment" overload (numbness), or if maybe for once I will manage to enjoy myself in the present instead of exhausting my enjoyment before the fact. I'll let you know when I get back (Monday). In the meantime, I'm going to bed.

So today is Monday. It was was actually Monday when I wrote that last bit. Monday the 3rd, early in the A.M. We are now at Monday P to the M. I went to see La-Haut (UP) with Louise and her brothers. I think I honestly understood every word. Expect when the dog's voice collar gets all high pitched. But I was encouraged. Looks like all those hours I spend watching French movies all by self back home are finally and eventually paying off. Now that I am fluent in French movie watching I'll go back home and spend even more time doing it. And you people wonder why I'm introverted. It is entirely not my fault that you don't enjoy watching subtitled films. I seriously wonder when I'm going to get over French. Or if. I wish I knew so I could start planning for it.

Speaking of planning for things, Drew and I had this conversation the other night. As a matter of fact, Chris and I had about the same convo a couple months back. It all revolved around answering the following question: if you somehow knew now that you would end up never getting married, never having kids, how would that change your plans for the future? Planning for a solitary life presents endless options. Mine would involve going between the perpetual student and the exiled traveler/struggling author. Not to mention a plethora of movies to watch by myself. I think I'd eventually get bored of French and move on to Spanish, then Japanese, then Russian. Except it's hard to find subtitled movies in Russian so maybe I'd have to move there.

It's weird to think of my alter-existence. Mine presents itself way too clearly before my imagination. Or maybe my imagination is just overly active. Either way, it's an utterly selfish existance, I'll tell you that. Without people around me to live for, I would definitely revert to the most selfish version of myself. There are people whose alter-existences would involve humanitarian work and living for others in a different sense. I feel like a horrible person but I'll admit that I would have stints maybe of good deeds but I don't think my life would be dedicated to anything like that. I think that's why the following poem, entitled "To my Child", quoted by Gordon B. Hinckly in this general conference talk always gets to me:

You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.

I remember the moment I realized that my parents actually lived other lives before I (child number one) came along. I was flipping through old photo albums and found a section or an album of a once-upon-a-childless-time. And I was totally in shock at the realization that they had once been something other than "Mom" and "Dad". It was a humbling moment. I think I can safetly say that it honestly changed me. To think that all parents everywhere abandon that hypothetical alter-and-likely-selfish-existence for the sake of family. It's really something. I think I'll find out once and for all how to enable comments on here so there can be a discussion in response to that golden question of what you would do differently if you knew you weren't going to have the responsibility of one day having a husband/wife/family.

Anway so today I was walking home from the film listening to my music. I wasn't really in a hurry to get home so I took a detour through downtown Marseille, where I go about once a week at least, and walked around a bit, ran a little errand and such before heading for my tram. There I was, just walking and I stepped onto the street, looked both ways at Marseille spread out before me. And I most definitely had a "wonder moment" and realized I was in France. Like, for reals. And then I had a revelation: I have these moments most often when I am alone and when I'm listening to music. In that order. The music only takes effect if I'm by myself. Then its effects are disastrous.

Let's just say that I have been known to find myself walking home from the tram past midnight with no company but my itouch, and- for lack of a car to sing my heart out in-I out loud it from the sidewalks. The brick and cement garden walls combined with the narrow streets make for great acoustics. It's frankly better than the shower.

They say here that it's not a good idea to have headphones in at night since potential harrasers will take advantage of the distraction/deafness. Don't worry Mom and Dad; I only leave one earpiece in for my moonlit sidewalk serenades. Plus, I tell myself, who's gonna mess with some chick straight up singing to herself in the middle of the night. Maybe I am crazy, but no one's gonna mess with the crazy chick, right?

So I'm going to be honest: I've been rambling so as to avoid posting photos. They are a royal pain even if they are the best way to give an idea of what I've been up to. When it comes down to it, I'm not really in the mood to talk about dates and events. I'll eventually get around to it, don't fret, but in the meantime let's just say that I've had two very enjoyable past two weeks. I have been getting out more with Americans and Frenchies my age alike. We even planned a fajita night last week (guess whose idea it was to make fajitas). All this hanging out means only one thing really: I'm starting to adore everyone here. When you see people 3 times or so a week, what with summer fever and the ever carefree french mentality, it's bound to happen, friendships, attachments and all. This is my favorite part of traveling. It was my favorite part of the mission: the people. It just makes me start to believe again that moving here, well, that wouldn't be so bad after all...