Metrophobic...or xenophobic?

I wish that I wasn't unnverved by this...but I was. I really, really was.

Yesterday, on my way to work, I made the necessary metro transfer and sat down next to a furry, bearded man who was reading. Typically, I assume that's a safe bet--he won't bother me, won't talk to me and I'll just sit there and play with my cell phone.

However, upon closer examination (and an inability to ignore what was going on), I found that he was reading the Quran, singing to himself and shaking back and forth, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

I then noticed that people were slowly moving away and leaving the car we were sitting in.

And I got nervous. I'm ashamed to say so, but I got kind of scared and considered moving myself.

I didn't. And I guess I'm happy that I refused to give in to the surely unnecessary fear. But still. It's been over 24 hours and I'm still thinking about it.

Have I been corrupted by the mainstream media? The Bush administration? Am I a post-9/11 posterchild?

I don't know what to think.

The lights on my tree, I wish you could see

It takes patience and fear and despair...to change.

Priorities change.
Lives change.
Plans change.
As I was writing on Friday, everything changed.
His dad had a stroke and is in a coma.
Maintenant, rien n'est sûr. Il n'y a rien de certain.
I'm trying to change my flight but it's so complicated and I don't know what to do.
The city seems cruel. The holidays seem cruel. The lights and wreaths and trees are cruel.
Dramatic, but who cares.
And I'm far away. And I feel alone.

You know it's cold when...

Re: Post title
I wear my coat inside.
It's one of my pet peeves in life. Seriously. I hatez it.

Any way, I'm passing a relaxing Friday evening in a cafe, alone, and yet I'm still happy. (The mec is visiting his pops.) This is city life. This is tranquility.
For now.

I have 5 full days left in Paris, have no idea when I'll be back, and am feeling appropriately unfortunate. I am so lucky and blessed to have passed so much time here. And, I feel it's a testament to my dedication to Francophilia (or is it a knock to my cerebral intelligence? haha) that I'm currently having issues typing this in English while thinking in and surrounded by French.

I know it's silly but I'm also proud of having been pretty thrifty and smart about my money the last 6 weeks. And to celebrate this, for Christmas, I'm doing 2 really "extravagant" things for Mourad that he's gonna hate, haha. (I'm justifying it by the fact that I have no idea when I'll be back and these are things I've wanted to do for a long time.)

Chose disposieuse numero 1: Saturday night
Dinner for 2 at La Duree on the Champs.

Chose disposieuse numero 2: Tuesday night
Dinner cruise on the Seine (I know, so cheesyyyyy).

I'm excited--about the next few days--but it's bittersweet.

I'm looking forward to seeing everyone at home, too. And my treadmill. Oh dear. That'll be quite the reunion...having gone from running 40+ miles a week to like 5. And eating delicious things.

OH WELL, C'EST LA VIE, MIRIGHT?

P.S. Happy holidays. : ) Photo from here.

See below for clever quote

De Maupassant's candour would cause her dismay,
The Brontes are grander but not very gay,
Her taste is much blander, I'm sorry to say,
But is Hans Christian Andersen ever risque?
--Sondheim

I am still floored by his lyrics.

P.S. Running is good for the soul. And the heart. But, for today, really, the soul.

This city

I can't get enough.
I'm not ready to leave.

Happiness is...

O.M.G.

Hearts::Friday::Hearts

Forever!

P.S. Yum.

Except...salmon overload!

Eee!

Mais...c'est bon pour le coeur.

Setting: Monday night, the stairwell going up to my apt.

I'm walking up the 7 flights and catch up to the man who lives next door...

Him: (huffing) Good evening.
Me: (passing him) Good evening.
Him: (referring to climbing 7 flights) It's rough, eh?
Me: (awkward laugh) Yeah. Not easy.

And then, he lifts up his lit cigarette (which I had not previously seen) and says, with a beaming, sincere smile:

Him: Yeah, but it's good for the heart.

Oh. France.

I sold your soul to the devil.

P.S. The Miss.tic exhibition that I went to two weekends ago was amazing. And free (!). And had just enough on display for me to take in without being overwhelmed.

To provide an honorarium to anyone with the code: A-N-G-E-L

World AIDS Day 2008.

"But still. Still. Bless me anyway.
I want more life. I can't help myself. I do.
I've lived through such terrible times, and there are people who live through much, much worse, but...You see them living anyway.
When they're more spirit than body, more sores than skin, when they're burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children, they live. Death usually has to take life away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die. But I recognize the habit. The addiction to being alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough, so inadequate, but...Bless me anyway. I want more life."

--Prior in Tony Kushner's Angels in America


Here is a good post about World AIDS Day as well.

Je suis reconnaissante pour...

I was thankful for having a home away from home when there are people who don't even have one.
I was thankful that last year's wish--that it be the last Thanksgiving without him--came true, even if it wasn't exactly the way I imagined.
I was thankful to have friends, new and old, with whom to share a meal and plenty of laughs.
I was thankful to be alive, in Paris, surrounded by friends (family, really), surrounded by love.
It was, like every other, a day to give thanks, a day to celebrate all that we have and all that we are.

from Van Gogh's Ear, vol. 6

I said, "Yes." I was thinking marriage was a 24/7 performance art piece, theoretically unlimited. I added, "But how do we do it?"

"We'll develop protocols. Brush our teeth at the same sink. Breathe the same air. Our neural nets expand and entwine. We read each other to sleep. We'll be children again. Grow each other up. Become a symbiotic entity. And we need to pick out a suit for me. I must dress better to become Dean," Bobby Stein said.

--Kate Braverman

"Bonjour! Tu veux un petit cafe, comme d'hab?"

Those are the most beautiful words in the French language.
Aside from "je t'aime" and all that mushy stuff.
I saw a sign the other day that a graffiti artist named Miss.tic with whom I'm obsessed is on exhibition right now. I think I'm going to head over there. I've taken so many pictures of his work around Paris--I'm so excited to see a bunch at once!
Saturdays. Delic.

You said shame.

So,
today,
I was bad.
Laissez-moi expliquer...
My job is is the worst. And by the worst, I really mean that it sucks. I mean, everything could be worse than it is, no? Except this. But still. Technicalities.
So, I had a "business meeting" this morning. And I was late. Because I couldn't get out of bed...after 10 hours of sleep. And because, instead of preparing for it, I guessed at the right metro station, and was horribly wrong. And, rather than fixing that mistake immediately, I got out, had a coffee, and decided to walk to make up the rest of the way. Leisurely.
Then, I had my meeting (which went well, thankfully) and took a roundabout way to work. And had coffee number two before even thinking about going in.
Then, I lied (to the 2 people who actually came into work--because the cat/boss is away and the mice/paid employees play/don't bother working) and said I had to go back to meet further with the guy I had met in the morning. However, in my own defense (!), I went in, checked my work e-mail, forwarded everything necessary to my boss (who is away in the U.S.), and answered things that were urgent.
Except...then I left and headed to my area and have been sitting in a cafe ever since. For the last 2 hours.
I purchased an expensive lunch and followed it with my third coffee of the day. I have probably spent more today than I have in the last two weeks.
Consequently, I feel both delightfully mischievous and extremely guilty, lol. I've survived on a steady diet of eggs, sandwiches, apples, and pasta since arriving. And just blew my money on an overpriced (though satisfying) lunch in a cafe that offers Wifi (the Internet, the joy of my existence) and hot coffee.
But whatever. We did it. It's been done. And I'm 65%* happy about it.
*70%*.
*75%.
We did it. A+.

P.S. There are worse things than the "-wurst."
P.P.S. Me: being okay with my decisions. And my coffee.

I'm ashamed

I know, I'm ashamed, but this is all about my opinion, no?
Me. You love me?

Hottest Hookup	Biggest Breakup
Lindsay Lohan and Sa...	Madonna and Guy Ritc...
Favorite Jonas	Breakout Star of the Year
Nick	Robert Pattinson
Baddest Bad Girl	Biggest Scandal
Sienna Miller	Raffaello Follieri's...
Best Dressed	Worst Dressed
Rihanna	Amy Winehouse
Hottest Hottie	Cutest Celebuspawn
Chace Crawford	Violet Affleck
Most Improved	Worst Trainwreck
Nicole Richie	Amy Winehouse
Most DVR-worthy Series	Biggest Box Office Blowout
Gossip Girl	The Dark Knight
Celeb of the Year
Barack Obama

Who would you vote for?
Go to PerezHilton.com to vote!

Taking the Christ out of Christmas Blend

Boon of Parisian living: I don't have to wait for Thanksgiving to get Christmas Blend at Starbucks.
Bane of Parisian living: By the time I actually got my coffee, Jesus had celebrated his bicentennial birthday.

Franklin and Gob were right

It's not easy being in this situation.
I wish more people understand how much pressure there is on me and how hard it is to feel so unstable.
I know--wah, wah--my life has been so blessed thus far. But still. We all deserve the chance to complain some times.
So yeah. Wah wah. I can't wait until this is all over. I know it will be worth it, I really do, I just can't wait for this be in the past, to be an amazing story to make for an amazing book...to make for a zillion dollars? Lolz j/k.
Any way, for now, cheers. Life goes on.

There's an endless story

French women are often thought of as the epitome of understated chic and effortless style. I know this--I do. BUT, some times, I have to wonder to myself (a la Carrie Bradshaw): How hard is it to pair a black shirt with black slacks, black shoes, a black bomber jacket or pea coat, a black scarf, a black bag, a pair of gold earrings and a super-bowl-sized diamond wedding ring? I get that it's usually about the cut of the clothes and that French women actually wear properly fitted garments, but STILL.
C'MON!

One More Dawn

I'm gonna say it now.
My inner cynic wants to shoot me for believing this, but...I don't think Obamania is worthless.
I think he may actually do things. Good things.
I'm hoping to be able to look back at this in a few years and see that I was right.
*fingers crossed*

P.S. OMG, PARIS.

Take Me As I Am

I know this sounds so lame, but I really am grateful today to live in this country.
I live in a country where I am both allowed and encouraged to vote--a country in which I am, at the very least, made to believe and to feel that my vote counts. I live in a place that not only embraces democracy but celebrates its inherit value. And, although I am not proud of our "spreading it" to places where its practice may not be ideal, I am proud of our own representative democracy.
It had to be said.
And no, despite this entry, I am neither a conservative nor a Republican.
I'm a registered Independent and I will, after careful consideration, vote for Obama tomorrow.

Who clogged my progress faucet?

I've got so much to say.
Where's it all hiding?

Au deuxième temps de la valse

It's here.
I did it.