Same as it ever was

Let's just admit it. Justin Timberlake is awesome.

Berlin BIG 25K

I gone done it. I registered for my first race, which will take place May 9th in the wide strasses of Berlin. It's going to take listening to a lot of rap music and eating a lot of chocolate bars to get me there, but I am sort of thrilled about it. Yesterday I went to see "nine", but really Daniel Day Lewis dressed up like Jean-Luc Godard (nummy) getting rubbed on by different actresses in lingerie. Later we ended up at some bar that reminded me of Sacred Grounds, actually, only with beer. I ordered a Hoegaarden and the guy asked me "with ketchup?" Either I asked for a hotdog, I looked like I would ask for a hotdog, or my French is just that bad. Today we (les assistantes) have a tea date with someone we can't quite remember meeting. Time for the day to start, the sun is out and I just finished my coffee.

5th of March, the morning

I just woke up with an incredible urge to learn computer jargon. It lasted a solid 30 minutes before giving me a headache which I've decided to alleviate by blogging. Yesterday Canice and I started our English conversation club. It wasn't a bust! We had one patron, and hopefully he will build up our good repute. Today I have two interviews-- one with a local language school for part-time/kill-time work, and one with TFA. I'm eager, an eager beaver. Oh, how dull this post will be! Anyway, that's kind of the crossroads I'm at right now. It's getting cold again and I am less than enthused. After nearly 6 months I finally turned in all my CAF paperwork, so there's something to feel smug in bed about. Synapse, synapse, synapse, I think I need a coffee. Ciao for now.

Everything Falling Into Place Or...

The weather's finally called it a truce and I'm feeling pretty alright because of it. Have been running most days, and despite the odd French perv, it's been rewarding. I'm sleeping well, I'm eating well, I'm lotioning after showers, and I finally got those guitar strings I'd been dreaming of. So, ha! winter blues, you prince of darkness! I feel lovely. Do have a bum knee from not quite mastering walking in heels though. Today I heard back from TFA about my application, and they've granted me a phone interview for this Friday. Jamie Dundala, the emancipator. I do hope they want me, so as not to foil the streak of lovely I've been having over the past few days. Still waiting on my microwave.

On France and Suffering

There are times when living here feels like a romantic montage, accordion and piano, in the fifties. Those are days unlike today. I tried booking an appointment for the presumably cancerous mole I need checked out, I wrote out a script and everything, and what did the receptionist do? She hung up on me. And when I went to send a letter the man working there told me for the forth time that my envelopes are all wrong. Then I found out from the women downstairs my microwave isn't coming for another five days because I read the e-mail all wrong. So I went to buy guitar strings so I could cut myself off until I calm down from all these blows to the belly and the store was closed for a two hour lunch. All wrong. This is all happening under a sheet of seven day ceaseless rain. I am desperate for a revival.

Running in France

I did it. I went for a run in France. Taboo, but doesn't that make it all the more alluring?

B.B.

And now, as promised, I will redeem Beauvais. The assistants of Beauvais are strangely fortunate to live just a short distance away from the last stop on the Picardie regional rail line to Paris. This means that usually once every week or so we live a charmed life, strolling down the boulevards of Paris without a care in the world, la di da. Today just so happened to be one of those very required days. I packed a ham sammy, grabbed my D.D. to-go mug, and split for Paris by 10:00. I had been there Wednesday to visit with a friend from Pittsburgh, so this week I was essentially a spoiled babe in the arms of civilization. Wednesday’s highlights were cemetery striding from dead French politician to singer to writer at the Bastille’s the Père Lachaise Cemetery, as well as traking out to La Defense where Paris keeps all of its city buildings (and even a mall). Today we museum hopped from the Musée d’Orsay (which was free) to the Brigitte Bardot exhibit (exposition) at the Musée Des Années 30. The Musée d'Orsay might be my favorite museum (except for the Barbie museum in Prague, or any museum in the United States). It contains most of the Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings I struggled to write ineloquent essays on during the second half of my world art course. It also contains the Courbet painting "L'Origine du Monde" which after all this time still make me blush and stutter. Right now there's a temporary exhibit on Art Nouveau, curvy line sexy art for the non-believer. It was pretty interesting and incredibly arousing, even though these exhibits always make me dizzy (at the Salvidor Dali museum in Barcelona I fainted). As for B.B.-- the French are shameless! So much nakedness, I need to lie down. Just loved it, even though the B.B. photobooth was hors service.