The Continuing Adventures of Matthew

Halloween: Barometer of Life Fun

2007-10-21T20:41:00.000-05:00

So it's Halloween! Short entry because I have to go work out.

My costumes the past couple of years have been small-time. Peanuts. Il Last-Minuté.

One of the barometers of fun levels in your life should be how much fun you have, and how awesome your costume is.

Next Halloween, I should make a point of general increased awesomeness. Creative costume, etc.

How's Halloween for you?

The Other Way of Work

2007-10-14T20:26:00.000-05:00

From the Onion AV Club this week, an interview with artsy people (an actor and a director in the Chicago theater scene):

Q: (irrelevant)
A: I guess it's both the blessing and the curse of the business. You're not a nine-to-fiver, slaving away at the same office or whatever every day of your life. You have a different environment and a different family every time. That's the really exciting thing. But then at the end of the run, everyone goes their separate ways.

Versus my situation - nine-to-fiver (actually closer to eight-to-sixer) in an office, same people, health insurance, budget spreadsheets instead of creating art. I'm tired of my setup.

What do you prefer? If you're lodged in one, would you prefer the other?

DVD Chapter Titles - No Longer Boring

2007-10-14T19:20:00.000-05:00

Most people who read this will probably already know that I am a big fan of zombies. The walking dead, be they fast or slow, tickle a special nerve in me. They're big fans of me, too, in an arrangement whereby the special nerve they'd like to tickle in me is my brain, and they hope I don't mind terribly if they do the tickling with their teeth.

That weirds me out a bit.

Anyway, short of letting them eat my brains, the best way I've found to commune with zombies is to watch the movies in which they so ably steal scenes.

To that end, I bought 28 Weeks Later * and a colorized version of Night of the Living Dead.

The DVD issue of Night of the Living Dead that I got has some lovely chapter names. You know how they're usually silly, like "4. Xanthar and Auron At The Used Car Lot"? Here's a sample of much better chapter names from Night of the Living Dead:

3. Zombies Hate Clotheslines
4. Fun With A Tire Iron
5. Let The Board Nailing Begin!
10. Barbra's Still Out To Lunch
12. Barbra's STILL Out To Lunch
15. Dad, Your Arm Tastes Great!

With chapters like these, I can hardly wait to pull out the movie and see how it looks in color.

I did finally watch 28 Weeks Later, and I enjoyed it. I think it's worth a second watch and then a third with the director's commentary. Very effective, nasty movie.

* Yes, I know they're not technically zombies in the 28 series. No, I don't care. back

I live... again!

2007-10-09T19:21:00.001-05:00

I suppose I think I'm so clever, not writing anything in my blog (henceforth referred to as my "blog") for months and months. I suppose I think that people are all sitting about their dens in their smoking-jackets, stroking their chins absently as they wonder whatever became of that smashing chap Matthew, and his continuing adventures. I suppose I think that concerned groups of fans are even now retracing my last posts just as a jury now follows the path to the spot where Diana Spencer's car crumpled to a rest.

Well, I'm here to set myself straight. None of these things are happening.

These things, however, are:

I have joined a flag football league. It is mostly gay men, which kind of freaked me out at first (have I ever been a minority in my life? I don't count American-living-in-France). The guys don't give me too much flak for being straight. I have settled at quarterback, and I really love it. So far I am throwing more touchdowns than interceptions, so woo hoo! This makes me wonder how I would have done if I'd joined the football team in high school.

I have joined the local gym. I am eating much better than I used to. I am running probably five days out of seven. I have a bit more energy than I used to. It makes me feel stronger and faster.

Cathy is posting enormous amounts of Japan to my "blog".

I am itching to begin something else with my life, something more useful, something I'm more interested in doing long-term. Start with grad school, maybe? Or possibly a service organization. Something that matters to the world, though.

If all goes well, I'll be attending the Packers-Redskins game at Lambeau this weekend.

I noticed tonight that I enjoy pop songs that build themselves up at the end. Radiohead's Let Down, Weezer's Only In Dreams, and the troublesome twosome of Fake Empire and Mistaken For Strangers by The National all exhibit this ass-kicking quality. Download, all ye faithful.

I need a mission in life. Doesn't that sound like a good thing to have?

Communications - No Phone

2007-07-08T21:29:00.000-05:00

If you've tried to contact me recently chances are very good that it didn't work.

My cell phone is gone, lost, plundered, or a runaway. Not sure exactly what happened, but I had to suspend the service. I'll update when I've got a new one and I've called in to restore my ability to get calls and voicemail.

In the meantime, I also spent the weekend in the charming embrace of a technological backwater (Glen's house) that has no internet access (but he does have a cat). So I'm catching up on email.

Feel free to send some email or drop a comment on this blog entry if you think there's a message or whatnot that I haven't gotten to.

Happy summer, everyone!

For Cathy to Comment Meanly On

2007-05-08T23:44:00.000-05:00

Since I last updated, I've been:

In Florida

Sick

My life is exciting and full of rad stories!

Genius In Many Forms

2007-04-19T19:26:00.000-05:00

I'm back in Chicago and working at the same old office. It's freakin' me out!

Ergo, some genius for you today instead of a boring story:

Chix0r/H4x0r Cathy has once again shown her genius (other examples - her games) with this Soul Calibur setup. Exercise has rarely been more violent!

Then there's BBC Radio 4, which gives us the show Genius. It's very simple - it invites the general public to contribute their genius ideas. Clever! And funny! Plus you can listen any time you want!

Any genius in your life lately?

Reboot

2007-04-11T23:01:00.000-05:00

I'm in Wisconsin, and it feels like Christmas. There's snow, and I'm tired, and I expect there to be a tree up in my parents' living room.

Someone reboot me?

Objects to Which I Bade Farewell, And My Responses to Them

2007-04-11T01:08:00.000-05:00

* The Bridge - best bike ride of 2007!

* The Other Bridge - "I lived under you like a common troll!"

* The Seagull With Whom I Fought - he bought me a beer. We're cool now.

* The Tool Who Calls it Frisco, Even Though He Lives Here - what a tool

* The Building Where I Used to Work - I shook my fist at it. "You'll have no more out of me!" I yelled.

* Delancey Street Crossroads Cafe - tasty breakfast!

* All Those Dead Hookers I Kept in My Apartment - SOOOO EMBARRASSING when you bring a girl back to your place

* The Guys - still hanging out, yelling ORR ORR ORR!

* The Street Where Mackenzie and I Dance While Driving - folks, when we dance, other drivers sway with lit lighters, birds join in, and even the grumpiest baby smiles. Usually a rainbow appears on the horizon.

* Sawyer (Something) Trail, Home of Newty McWoggles - best place to rollerblade and meet (and name) reptiles!

* Coworkers - they bought me beer, so we're cool, too

While We're Not on the Subject

2007-04-09T13:20:00.000-05:00

I believe that Godric Gryffindor's sword has been one of Voldemort's horcruxes since Big V asked Big D for a job and got flat turned down cold. Does it really make sense that Big V wanted into Big D's office just to ask for a piddly job?

And who better to unwittingly guard a little piece of your soul?

Leaving San Francisco

2007-04-09T03:37:00.000-05:00

Well, I guess it's almost over.

I'm flying out of SFO on Wednesday, and that will wrap up the majority of my involvement with this office, this project, and - for now - this city.

It's been long and intense. I'm a whole new manager now, and a bit of a fuller person, too.

Oh, hell. It makes me want to party and forget all the boring bureaucracy. Anyone up for a beer?

Verbal Altercation

2007-04-02T01:20:00.000-05:00

The date: Today, April 1st, 2007
The place: Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California
The aggressor: Some dipshit bird

The story: So I'm skating through the park, and I stop for a rest by this really nice little pond (I guess they race remote-control boats there sometimes). This seagull is standing on the edge of the water and he just starts LOOKIN at me, you know, and he's got this LOOK in his eye like "OH YEAH YOU DON'T KNOW WHOSE TURF YOU STEPPIN ON" and I just look back cool as ice because I know if we get into it he's gonna be all lit up like Joan of Arc on Bastille Day you know I'm basically pretty confident.

So there's this moment and it's stretching out real long you know and this seagull ruffles his neck up a little and he fixes me with his beady little eye and says to me "WARRRRRRRRRK" and I'm all OH YEAH? and he's all "WARRRRK!" and I'm all PROVE IT and he's all "WAAA-AAARRRK" and I'm all YOU WANNA THROW DOWN SON OR WHAT IS IT THEN and he clearly was not prepared to go webbed foot-to toe with me oiled-up greco-roman style and so he just slides off into the water and makes for the center of the pond. So I go right over to where he was standing before and I'm all OH YEAH YOU BETTER RUN.

The winner: ME.

OHHHH, YEAHHHHH!

Roast Beef is Everywhere

2007-03-30T00:08:00.000-05:00

Two of my new favorite things involve Roast Beef.

Achewood is now one of my favorite webcomics. It mostly stars cats and stuffed animals, but that doesn't prevent it from being chock full o' booze, horrible behavior, and occasionally Airwolf.

My favorite character is named Roast Beef. Roast Beef is an awesome cat who is a total security hacker and codes java like mad and is a really good friend even if he doesn't know it because he is depressed all the time. Marvellous.

Then there's Wizard People, Dear Reader. It's by Brad Neely, who did the completely awesome George Washington video. WPDR is an alternate ... wait, I'm not going to explain it. Just go watch and remember that Dudley = Roast Beef in this video. Hilarious.

My International Sunday

2007-03-26T01:30:00.000-05:00

At a little restaurant called the Prague Café, I talked to a girl. The girl was from Wales, the waiter was from eastern Europe, and the music was Swedish. It was Abba-Swedish, it was looping, and it was LOUD.

Does this make me cosmopolitan and well-rounded and stuff? I mean I exposed myself to lots of different cultures, but so far my chief benefit has been learning the words to Waterloo by heart.

Regionalisms

2007-03-20T22:49:00.000-05:00

Today I was on the phone with two people, one from the Pacific Northwest and one from Ohio.

The one from Ohio pronounced pen 'pin' and the one from Washington pronounced pin 'pen'.

My head doth spin.

Seismic Veteran = Me

2007-03-01T23:33:00.000-06:00

Tonight my apartment bounced up and down.

I guess I'm a citizen of California now.

Public Service Announcement

2007-03-01T01:11:00.000-06:00

Let it be hereby known, by Imperial Edict set forth by me this day, that an appropriately named monkey shall never be called "Steve".

Thank you for your attention; now let us never speak of this again.

Rethinking

2007-02-10T12:30:00.000-06:00

My work lately has grown to consume my time and my ability to cope. I've started to think that I just plain don't like it. It's a big challenge, and I think it's important for me to do well. On the other hand, I really dislike the near-constant state of panic, and it takes its toll on me.

1) I want to take this job and win, to beat it at its own game, before I move on.
1a) But what if I'm not suited to it? What if it's just a mismatch?
1b) But does good fit really matter? We're all changing all the time; can't I change to fit this better?
2) If I want to save the world, why haven't I been serious about taking any steps?
3) And where's the fun? Where did all of that go?
3a) Saving the world seems grim, not fun.

I'm in a lull. Only Bono can save me now.

Dream Jobs

2007-01-27T23:37:00.000-06:00

When I don't write, it's often because I'm feeling scattered and unable to concentrate. I've been in that position for a couple of weeks now. So we're just going to push through because today's sermon is important!

I was talking to Ann the other day, and it turns out that I've got a couple jobs that I would prefer to the one I've got now:

The guy with the sledgehammer: There's a house near where Ann lives that got boarded up and condemned. Turns out that it was bubonic plauge or something, I don't know. Recently somebody with a hammer removed the boards. And the stucco. And whatever else was busy hanging off the studs. That sounds like a totally awesome job (assuming a house that is not stuffed full of plague).

Breaking a house! With a hammer! It's like picking a scab but so much bigger! Also, I'm pretty sure that leveling a house with only crude tools and your fury makes you feel much mightier than picking a scab. Job satisfaction!

Orchid farmer, somewhere in Hawaii: Other than rock star, can you think of anything better? Oh wait, I can:

First Mate on a Robot Boat (the boat also flies): Gonna take a world tour with the rich and the famous and the pretty, and my job is to MINGLE. And push the button that starts the LASER LIGHT SHOW. I could give my two weeks' notice right now if that job was open.

This is a decent start, but I must have missed some good jobs. If you remember any that I forgot, you can remind me in the comments.

Today's bonus: Indexed shows how you can explain human truth through Venn Diagrams. OMG I JUST FELL ASLEEP you said, but you're wrong. It's funny. Go visit!

The post that I will probably regret someday (maybe today!)

2006-11-05T12:41:00.000-06:00

OH, NO!

THIS POST ACCIDENTALLY DELETED BY AN ARMY OF ROBOTS!

WATCH OUT FOR THE ROBOTS, EVERYBODY! THEY HAVE ATOM SMASHERS!!!

It is completely true that I am working too much

2006-10-26T00:57:00.000-05:00

Why do I work so much?

A) I don't really have much else to fill my time
B) There really is that much work
C) I am not very quick about doing my job

I am starting to worry that option A may have more of a hold on me than I'd like. Of course, the majority of the explanation is composed of options B and C. And possibly some other ones, too! Anybody got any ideas what else might contribute?

I Am One of the Luckier Ones

2006-10-22T02:22:00.000-05:00

The last week has been very busy - I've been holding down Chicago as well as learning the ropes in San Francisco. I have been working too many hours, and I'm not sure I've been a good friend to myself in doing that. There's certainly enough work to fill all that time, though, so I'm still not sure where I come down on that one.

Today I moved from the hotel to the corporate housing. OHHHHHHHHH YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH. It's actually much nicer than I thought it would be. So score there. And I've got my rollerblades back. So score there. And it was 82 degrees and I had a day of complete freedom in California. So score there.

When I tally up some of the major events that have taken place since I got into the Real (and, I had expected, Boring) World, I really have to laugh like a maniac. Or an idiot. Whichever way I'm laughing, it's because of the great and unexpected fortune I've had. Have I somehow forgotten opening a fortune cookie that read "YOU WILL TRAVEL TO A MULTITUDE OF LOCATIONS AND LIVE THERE FOR A WHILE / LUCKY NUMBER 4 8 15 16 23 42"? Adventure keeps dropping into my life, and I couldn't be happier with it.

I guess the only dismaying thing that happened today was when Glen called. What a jerk.

I Am Confuzzled

2006-10-16T00:22:00.000-05:00

I've been in California a few days now, and my brain doesn't get it. Why isn't it cold? Where did the palm trees come from? What is this bit with neighborhoods blending into one another instead of changing abruptly?

Where is Chicago?

About a week ago, I had basically decided I was going to move to San Francisco for a few months to help my company out while one of my colleagues was on leave. Do I have time to move my stuff? Where would I move it? Should I sublet? What about my social life? All of these questions remain unanswered. I shipped over my rollerblades, packed some clothes, and got on the airplane.

At O'Hare, I sat in Wolfgang Puck's Express eating my spicy chicken pizza and dividing my attention between closed-captioned CNN and closed-captioned The Contender when all the sudden leaving welled up and smacked me a good one right between the shoulder blades. Boys don't cry, mind you, so I called Mom & Dad instead, and lucky for me my Dad talked me down a bit. But it is hard to pack up and leave so suddenly. There's a lot to feel homesick for.

So I'm confuzzled - culture shocked plus lonely. Strangely enough, I can't wait to get back to work. It'll keep me so busy that I'll be in my comfort zone by about 8:15 tomorrow morning.

So what did I do this weekend? I explored, and took terrible photographs! And I got a haircut, and visited the Pirate Store. There is one in Wicker Park in Chicago - 1331 Milwaukee, as I hear it. While I was there, I bought an awesome piratey item. Unfortunately, I did not get mopped.

Maybe that's why I feel weird tonight - I didn't get mopped. Damn it.

PS. HAIRCUT IS SEXAY OHHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHH

Matthew's Inaugurual California Post of Zoon!

2006-10-11T23:51:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm in California for maybe six months. Umm, details soon!

An Ode to Beer, Sung Minstrel-Style

2006-09-17T21:03:00.000-05:00

all, singing:

Beer! Beer! It helps me forget! Hey!

repeat 48 times or until having sex with a stranger

Stupid Dreams

2006-08-26T13:17:00.000-05:00

During 14 hours of fevered sleep last night, I dreamt that my ex was back, and she wanted me, and she wanted to kiss me, etc.

She thought I was wonderful again, and I had this great surge of hope.

Stupid dreams.

It's Happened to All of Us

2006-08-21T21:19:00.001-05:00

"Our love is all of God's money"

-Wilco, "Jesus, Etc."

I talked to my ex for the first time in a while yesterday. We were on the phone for about two hours, and of course one expects it to be nasty and punishing, etc. One expects her to have forgotten all about you and to have taken up with some asshole plastic surgeon or something.

But it wasn't horrible. I got to tell her how very much I love her and how much our 3 1/2 years mean to me. That part felt good, and I think she needed to hear it from me. And of course I haven't asked her for my stuff back yet, which means that I know we'll talk again.

She was such a big part of my life for such a long time, and to me she is still just as special as it is possible to be special. But she's going away from me.

Oh, heart, shut the hell up. Everybody's been here.

The Don't Be A Stupid Cockface Act

2006-06-23T07:34:00.000-05:00

We have a real problem with stupid cockfaces in our society, not least in government:
* "We've found the weapons of mass destruction."
* "That depends on what your definition of 'is' is.

Okay, we all hate it, but they keep doing it. Why? They can get away with it. All they have to endure is a few scathing editorials in the Washington Post and then the public will move on to something else, leaving the offending stupid cockface unscathed.

In other words, in our society there's no real punishment for being a stupid cockface.

I hereby propose a remedy: let's make it a crime to be a stupid cockface. Maybe not a felony, but a punishable, permanent-record crime. Let's have the punishment be a total loss of public respect, a fine that stings pretty hard, and the Stupid Cockface label, a sort of unsheddable scarlet letter of idiocy.

Great, but how do we choose who gets nailed with Stupid Cockface status? Easy, we outsource the job to Walter Cronkite. Or rather, we create a Stupid Cockface Czar, appointed by and answerable only to the American people. This person must be perceived as a wise and neutral person who will not abuse power. The Cockface Czar only needs to designate a Stupid Cockface, then the local magistrate or whoever assesses a fine and applies the Scarlet Letter of Shame.

One Stupid Cockface rooted out and punished, and a whole class of people a little more nervous about crossing that line into doublespeak or preempting the World Cup because it's raining two counties over or changing laws to make sure that child labor is legal in U.S. possessions or whatnot.

What if the Czar goes off the reservation, though, and designates Willie Mays (for example) a stupid cockface? Clearly this isn't right, and the people are going to know it. This is where the national referendum comes in. The only way to overturn a Stupid Cockface designation is by a two-thirds majority in a national vote. If this vote succeeds in overturning the S.C. status, then the Czar loses his or her post and is automatically branded a Stupid Cockface. The people then choose another Czar, and we all resume business as usual.

Won't it be nice to have this in place for the next time Rick Santorum holds a press conference to announce that we've found weapons of mass destruction in Iraq two years after we stopped looking? Or for when Paris Hilton publishes her first book of poetry?

I think we needed this act decades ago. Who can we get to sponsor this in Congress?

Revisionist History

2006-03-23T18:16:00.000-06:00

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And hewed some lumber, laid in stacks

When she saw what she had done
She built a lean-to, just for fun

- MJP, 3/22/06

What Am I Playing At?

2005-11-16T22:58:00.000-06:00

Today marks six months to the day since I arrived back in the United States. In that time I have gotten a job, gotten an apartment, and kept things solid with my best girl, who helped me celebrate our third anniversary last week.

But my time in France is so precious to me, and I'm not doing the things I want to do to keep it fresh for myself. I'm not telling stories, and I'm not sorting through all those artifacts and trinkets I brought back with me. I'm not keeping in touch with the people I met out there.

Quel idiot!

We got the first snow of the year today. It's time to take a cue from the seasons and make some changes.

Your homework, dear reader:
1.) Identify that one thing you've been putting off, or the thing you've been meaning to do, or remember that person you should've called back

2.) Get to it. Do it, and not half-ass.

3.) After, figure out if you feel different, or better, or what. Post it in the comments!

My Room (wherever it may be)

2005-11-02T00:02:00.000-06:00

So tonight I’m moving out of my room. I’m only going to the next room over, but still, this represents change and the sentimental feeling I’ve got reminds me of the last few times I moved. This always comes up for me because my room, wherever it may be, is a place of sanctuary and safety. It’s where my stuff is, where my girlfriend holds me, where my eyes trace the contours of the walls as I drift off to sleep.

Be it Chicago, Madison, rural France, wherever, my room has always been a special place for me.

Here’s to my room, all of them, and to change, which keeps me from growing to hate any of them!

Chagrin From the Past

2005-11-01T23:46:00.000-06:00

I was horrified, recently, by the idea that a good deal of the people I went to high school with probably think I attempted suicide during my freshman year of high school.

Yipes!

They’d have thought this because of the big bandage on my left wrist, which covered two deep cuts on the inside surface. This damage, I assure you, was entirely accidental. It had more to do with cheap plate glass and less to do with me or despair. Of course, I had high school angst. I never seriously thought about suicide, though. I was way too busy trying to be a gallant romantic hero to any number of desirable sixteen year-old girls.

So, if you are reading this and you happen to have known me back then, let me say this: I am not now, nor have I ever been, a member of the suicidal party.

Phew. Glad that’s cleared up!

The Week o' Coincidence

2005-10-03T20:52:00.000-05:00

I’m on the Amtrak train, listening to French rapper MC Solaar (bouge de la!) and recalling the week so far.

Monday was my advance screening of Serenity, which I should reiterate was fantastic and exciting and made me want to see it again. At this event, of course, I ran into somebody who just happens to work at the same place that I do. Neat.

Tuesday night my friend Anne lets me know that she’s come into a few tickets for the Cubs game. Sweet! It’s the second to last home game of the season, and Greg Maddux was up against the wall - if he could win this game, he’d have a chance at extending his streak of 15-win seasons.

Coming off the train, I hear someone say my name. It’s the same woman that I met Monday who works at the same place I do. She happens to be going to the game, too. On the street maybe three minutes later, I run into the old tech guy from work, who *also* happens to be going to the game. Coincidences were just unruly that night, let me tell you.

My charmed life continued on Wednesday, when in the lobby of my building I ran into someone I went to high school with. Haven’t seen her in probably eight or nine years, and here she is, in my building, working for the competition. Weirdest thing.

So there we go. I live a life that others only dream of!

Serenity

2005-09-26T16:12:00.000-05:00

Instead of going home after work, today I worked my way over to the movie theaters at Piper's Alley. Monday night, before supper. Odd time for a movie, maybe?

Not if it's for a press screening.

Not if it's for Serenity.

And so, after some tense time in line with what must have been a couple of hundred other people, time spent wondering if I'd get in, I found myself in the best seat in the house. Lights go down, hopes come up.

Serenity is big, crass, thoughtful, thrilling, and extremely dangerous. Well over half of the nine main characters get genuinely hurt through the course of the film, and it is apparent that Main Character Protection does not apply in this rough, nasty future. The action sequences do justice to that big huge screen, and the humor that made writer/director Joss Whedon famous comes through at unexpected moments - and it comes through big, despite some grim situations.

Because this story is the continuation of a television series, I had worried before I saw it that it would feel just like a regular, longer episode of the show. A bit comfy and a bit glitzy, but nothing new. Not so here. The stakes are higher, the highs are higher, and the lows are lower. This film hits you then tickles you then pets you then hits you again. Dull moments are in short supply.

I'm still digesting the film so it's hard to say how good it really is; I just know that I had a fantastic time and that, artistically, it's a success. Whedon had a clear vision as a writer that he really massaged with good directorial style into a strong whole. The acting was uniformly good stuff - special credit to Nathan Fillion as Captain Reynolds. He needs to be good to anchor the cast, and boy does he deliver.

Go see Serenity. It's a great pleasure - huge, thrilling, funny, scary, and so much fun. This, my friends, is a Big Damn Movie.

And now that we're not reviewing the movie anymore, I have to give a special mention to Janelle, who I met at the screening, along with her boyfriend Matt (ahem, no relation). She and Matt were up on checking out the truth behind the confused ticket and entrance situation, and they were very likely the difference between my Perfect Seat and the total possibility of not getting in at all. Plus they're the type you'd like to get stuck in a long line with. Good folks.

Karma check? She and I work at the same place, which (because of Internet Law of Thou Shalt Not Blog About Thy Job, Not Even A Little) shall remain nameless. Coincidence abounds!

It was, overall, an extremely satisfying night. Now go see a movie!

From a Little Distance: The Last Train Ticket

2005-07-19T23:17:00.000-05:00

As a bookmark in my copy of the collected Chronicles of Narnia, I found tonight a ticket sleeve for my last SNCF journey through France to arrive at Charles de Gaulle airport and leave the country.

It is two good stories for me. The first is the trip itself, which was fraught with near-misses. Though the Ferrands put me on the bus in Chateau Gontier at the right time, the rain started on the way and many of the roads were blocked off because of Sunday festivals. We in the bus were late, and I was getting increasingly worried that I would miss the connection with my train in Laval. I had a grand total of seven minutes to pull probably 80 or 90 pounds of stuff out of the bus, across the parking lot and up the steps into the station, collect my ticket from the machine, and then get under the tracks to the stairs to my train and board it.

The bus driver, having heard me talking to the old lady in the seat next to me about this, changed her schedule so that we arrived first at the train station instead of stopping in the middle of Laval. She did it without me asking her, and let's just stop and think of how wonderful she was to do that because I surely would have missed my train if not for her decision.

I dragged my big blue duffel bag and my bulky brown shoulder bag and my beat-to-hell black guitar case into the station with about six minutes before the train was scheduled to leave and found, to my absolute horror, that the big yellow ticket kiosk refused to spit out my ticket. Five minutes left and I was standing extremely nervously in the ticket window line. Four minutes left and the man at the desk swiped my credit card and printed the ticket as though there was nothing actually wrong. I could have kicked the machine except I was too busy dragging my duffel bag at top speed. Somebody said something in French to me as I went down the stairs to the underground corridor and I managed to reply - language skills really kick in under duress.

Grabbing and hauling and cajoling the bag up the stairs. Two minutes. Good thing I remembered to compost* the ticket, otherwise the conductor is going to hit me with a many-euro fee for Not Following Silly Rules. I manage to find the right car and I go from chaos and danger to a first-class compartment all to myself. Rain falls on the window right next to me and the train lurches, begins to move, and drives the water sideways. I have just made it. The fabrics are dark grey with red highlights; see the movie The Bourne Identity for a look.

My natural inclination (and right sensible, I think to this day) was to stow my stuff and crash the hell out. I had been up very very late panicing and trying to finish packing and cleaning the apartment. My day had consisted of panic and social situations and then more panic.

But, of course, I needed to change trains at Le Mans to get to Paris. So I set my little alarm clock and fought to stay awake during the 42 minute trip. Then I dragged my stuff off the train and waited for 62 minutes until the next one came to take me to the airport. During all that time, they never checked my ticket. I fancy it might still be good had I not obeyed Silly Rules and composted* it.

All of this, I think, is important to me because I didn't have time to get all sad about leaving France. In fact, as I was packed onto the bus ready to see Chateau Gontier for the last time (for a while), the thing I thought to myself was "there is only winning and more winning."

The other thing I think about is that despite all that panic I made it in the end. I made a credible attempt and kept my head and did what I could and it worked. Try running all over France with everything you own on your right shoulder. The point is that you can do it. Look at me; I did!

I'm putting my ticket back in my Narnia book now, marking page 414 as it did before, because there's a passage there that means a lot to me. We'll get to that soon. Thank you for sharing the journey with me.

* You have to stick your ticket in a machine before you get on the train. It stamps some date-time info on the ticket. If you don't do this they get terribly upset with you and then not only are you an idiot insensitive foreigner, but then you become an extremely poor idiot insensitive foreigner as they fine you until you physically die.

Pictures:

Sun rises at Charles de Gaulle airport

Sleeping at CDG. Many other hooligans.

Self-portrait in the CDG ceiling

The Ferrand family, Michel and Ginette 1 | 2 (The dog's name is Chippy and she actually steals paper napkins off peoples' plates in order to eat them [the napkins])

I Am Alive, And In Perfect Hibernation

2005-05-26T20:22:00.000-05:00

Since I got back from France, I have been in Chicago, Cedarburg, and Madison. Furthermore, I have gotten sick and started to recover.

Life in the immediate future will involve going to visit everybody and unpacking and telling heroic stories (lies) about my gigantic adventure in Europe (or, to those in the know, federal prison).

Also, I'm taking my parents to go see Star Wars. How cool is that?

Point being: if I haven't seen you lately, give me a ring or drop me an email and let's see when we can get together before I get revved up to go do Real Life again. Cheers!

I Am Back from France (Did You Know I Went to France?)

2005-05-17T19:29:00.000-05:00

Back in the States - very tired now. Walk in Wicker Park then bedtime.

Bittersweet, Part II: Sweet

2005-05-14T10:33:00.000-05:00

Well, this is it. I'm writing this in the guest bedroom of the Ferrand family in Chateau Gontier. All my furniture is out of my apartment, and I'm cleaning stuff up tomorrow with the intention of training off to Paris Sunday for the plane on Monday.

I'm pretty sure that because of (of course!) a strike I will have to take the train directly into the airport and hang there for the night in order to make sure I'm there in time for the flight. It's delightfully emblematic - my last night in France. I'm in Paris, right, the legendary City of Light, and because of a strike I'm going to have to spend the night in a concrete bunker/terminal far away from the action. Ahh, France, how you beguile me!

So today. It was another of those really good self-affirming days where everybody loves you. My favorite kind!

It started off at the stroke of midnight when I was trying to use the last few hours I had of a region 2 dvd player to get through Dancer In the Dark and this BBC Pompeii production I grabbed along with a magazine. Good stuff, but of course I was trying to watch, pack, and fret all at the same time. Difficult!

6-9 AM, sleep.

Until the dude (Sebastien) came by to help me load up the furniture I was cleaning like a madman. Rock on - after a couple of loads and a new dude who wants to immigrate to the US someday, I HAD NO FURNITURE. Here's where the fun begins.

Went to lunch with Pascal Vandergucht, Horrible Monster and teacher of Economics. We had a good talk about, you know, stuff, Norman Rockwell and reflections of idealized times that had been long in the past when the artist painted them in the first place.

But he also presented me with the coolest gift - a Swiss Army Knife to replace the one I finally had to part with at the Vatican. It was the best gesture I could have thought of. Just wonderful.

Next hours with Benoit and the others - Frederic Guichon and Annie, billions of email addresses

Quiet contemplative time on the floor chez moi after walking home in a baseball jersey with a book on my head in the rain

Book and wonderful note from Anne-Marie! She's totally on my Christmas card list.

Got back to school and grabbed a TV for Sylvie and then went to Bar de la Place to sit outside with Jerome Fretigné, Veronique Rossini, and Ginnette Ferrand. I was witty in French, and bonus that I learned some great expressions for "vomit" (poser une gallette, anyone? Hilarious!) It was a lovely time full of actual conversation and then flipping back to being weird. Everybody seems to be okay with the idea that I might come back to visit soon. Especially good was Veronique's offer - if I'm back in France one day, I should check my vacation against French scolastic vacation. She's offering her wonderful wonderful house if htey're out for a bit. Holy shit! How nice can you possibly get?

So on my way back to my apartment I ran into the entire butcher family (jean-marie Grélard) and ended up talking to the two daughters for probably 20 minutes. It was fun; they asked me if I knew about the show Charmed and it's only because they're 8 that I didn't tell them how unbelievably hot Rose McGowan is. Anyway, they're taking English classes and really want to visit America someday. Am I the only one who loves this shit? Foreign kids who really want to pack up and visit your beautiful country - I tell them DAMN RIGHT and move on to my apartment, where I'm just in time to catch a call from my Mom and tell her all the good news. We had a good talk for a couple of minutes.

Hey, I forgot to mention Benoit's going with his lovely girlfrined Florence to, oh hell, that island she's from - New Caledonia. Rock on, Benoit!

* Benoit is not in this case Benoit XVI, the Archbishop of Rome

So then off to the Ferrands, where I met Michel and neighbor Jacques in the big garage and had an apertif (porto for me, deuxieme apertif rules!) We talked about WWII and how there's not as much history in the USA as in Europe.

Then dinner, which was interrupted by Odette! and her daughter. Fantastic fun to talk to her again. It's a good full-circle thing. She said if ever came back to France and needed some laundry done I knew where to crash. They talked a lot about cats and dogs and stuff. Probably newspapers, too. Booooo-ring!

And now here I am, ready to crash out. So here I go. See you later, suckers!

I'm Back from Paris (Did You Know I Went to Paris?)

2005-05-12T04:27:00.000-05:00

I’m back from a very successful vacation. Cathy (Ninja Warrior Princess) came to visit for a week, and we left tracks all over France, freaking out the locals wherever we roamed.

She came in to Charles de Gaulle (the airport, not the dude) last week and the time has just flown. Now she’s airborne and I’m back in Chateau Gontier. Summary time!

Sunday

Got Cathy in Laval, where we visited the splendid botanical gardens and met baby goats. They were in a petting zoo, but the little guys were sticking close to the pack in the middle so we did not, strictly speaking, pet them. No matter; when baby goats say b-a-a-a-a-a I cannot resist the fact that they are completely adorable. I know this makes me weak but I cannot help it. After goats we came to Chateau Gontier, ate some good pizza, and crashed out at my apartment.

Monday

Chateau Gontier again. We also have baby goats here in my town, and this time we got to pet them. Goats here are affection junkies. Right after the goats we went for a quick walk down by the river to visit the horses. They were just being horses, walking around and eating and doing horse stuff. After Cathy and I talked nonchalantly for a couple of minutes by the fence, they came round - but only to eat, of course. Certainly not because they were curious. So our two groups ignored each other companionably for a few minutes: the horses with delectable munchy grass and Cathy and I with talking about Final Fantasy. But they were close enough to touch. Good stuff.

We made our way down to the school in the evening, where the teachers had a little going-away reception for me. It was one of the best things all week. Details later.

Tuesday

Enough Chateau Gontier! Cathy and I hired a helicopter* and sped* our way north to the pirate town of Saint Malo. I have described this before - it is a walled city that was designed to repel serious assault, and it is breathtaking. The walls on the outside are complete and in good shape. They separate the rocky coast and bay from the rather posh botique-ridden inside. Tourists throng inside, but we were hardcore and spent most of the time clambering on rocks outside. We were so hardcore, in fact, that even as the wind picked up and the rain started to fall we took off our shoes and waded into the English Channel. Just like in the Mediterranean Sea, I was Huck Finn. Cathy only needed to gather her skirt, so I guess score a point for girls. But it was a fantastic experience and we got to taste a little bit of the power that is the weather over the sea. When Mother Nature brings a storm to this place, I bet she brings her A-game. Anyway, we rule.

Further adventures include me climbing way out to the inaccessible rocks (no, not the dangerous ones, Mom) and being all satisfied with myself until I came across what looked like a used condom. Clearly there are two someones harder-core than I. Also I did manage to slip and tear a hole in the knee of my pants and then bleed on them a little, which sucks because I always liked climbing and I’ve always thought I was good at it. It’s like trading in a perfectly good pair of pants for a brand new sense of failure. No fun. Anyway, Saint Malo continues to be a fantastic place to go. So go!

Wednesday

Enough Saint Malo! Cathy and I invented underwater jetpacks* and rocketed* to the Mont Saint-Michel, which is one of the seven wonders of the world and, I believe, the only one I’ve been to twice. To recap: imagine the middle of nowhere. Now take away the hills. And the trees. And the grass. In fact, imagine a bunch of mud, perfectly flat for a long way in every direction. Pretty empty, yeah? Now in your mind’s eye plunk down a 300-foot hill with a bigass cathedral on top of it. Impressed? You will be if you go there. If you, as we did, pay your way into the cathedral and walk all the way to the top of it you will look down on circling birds and 500 foot drops and beautiful gardens. If you’re lucky you’ll see the tide come in. Did you know that Victor Hugo once said that the tide coming in could outrun a horse? This place is worthy of the wonder-of-the-world title.

Thursday

This was mostly a travel day. Thursday and Friday were both holidays (Ascension, I think). France shuts down on holidays and so we had Wild Adventures trying to get back to Chateau Gontier - eventually accomplished with the help of Charline and David, two of the lovliest French people you will meet. Back in C-G we scored three types of cheese and some of the best strawberries ever (picked no more than three days ago) at the Thursday market. Then we had us some lunch and regrouped for more travel. Some gnomes gave us an ornithopter* and we strapped on our goggles and flapped* into Paris*.

Friday

This was the Big Day in Paris. We swung by Notre Dame on our way to the Louvre. There we saw TOO MUCH STUFF. My head just kind of swelled and told me to stop looking at stuff otherwise it was going to have to dump my brain in a corner somewhere. Before I gibbered to a complete mental halt I saw the Winged Victory and the Mona Lisa. Winged Victory: Awesome. Mona Lisa: Very small, overshadowed by the crowds jammed around it taking pictures. Any dead curators lying in pools of blood? Nope. So we left and walked directly from the Louvre down the Champs-Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe. Did we go up to the top? Yes, we did! I really loved looking at Paris in springtime from such a great vantage point. I figured out where all the major landmarks are and just generally enjoyed the wind and the sun and the fact that I was in Paris. Epic.

We took from the Arc the street that pointed straight at the Eiffel Tower and on our way passed by the Place des Etats-Unis (this basically means USA Place). It’s kind of tucked away, not far from the river, and it has a little park in the middle. Moms and dads and tons of kids playing, sunlight and a tiny breeze, no traffic. We found a patch of grass and busted out my Best Frisbee Ever, the portable Royal Observatory fold-up number that I bought in Greenwich. This bit is possibly my favorite part. In between all the epic events of Paris - just me and an old friend playing frisbee on a beautiful day in a beautiful park in the middle of the City of Light. Doesn’t get much better than this, folks.

But of course we still needed to get to the Tower. We finished our walk and bought tickets from a fast-moving line at the base of the West Leg. I’ve noticed over the course of my time in France that I have a fear of heights that flares up whenever I’m WAY TOO FAR UP IN THE AIR, so I was a little nervous about going all the way up this vertical monstrosity. But up, up, up we went. At the first platform (which is going to be the beach volleyball location if Paris gets the 2012 Olympics) we had to wait in line for a long time, but when we finally got into our elevator it was a hell of a reward. I got used to being so far up at the top, and then we got to see the sun go down over La Défense and watched day melt into night. This part I can’t actually describe. All I can really say is that I didn’t want to leave, even when we’d been at the Tower for 3 hours and seen basically everything there was to see. What kind of magic is this? I guess you call it Paris, yeah?

Last thing about the Tower: it’s just packed with strobe lights. Every hour or two they all go off at random intervals. The whole thing sparkles for 10 or 15 minutes. We waited on the platform of the Trocadero for the lights to go. At exactly midnight, they did. We watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle its metal heart out, then we grabbed the métro back to the hostel and enjoyed the feeling of a trip well spent.

* Actually, we took a train [BACK]
* It was kind of slow [BACK]
* A couple of buses, actually [BACK]
* The slowest rocketing you’ve probably ever seen [BACK]
* No, they didn’t [BACK]
* Complete fabrication [BACK]
* At least this part is true [BACK]

I Am Back From Italy (Did You Know I Went to Italy?)

2005-04-25T14:30:00.000-05:00

In Italy I saw:

Rome

The Poping of the Pope: I was in St. Peter's Square when they announced the Pope.

Pompeii, which I will write a full dissertation about soon because it totally fried my medulla oblongata

Sorrento: with many orange and lemon trees, felonious restaurants, and gorgeous water, this was one of my favorites

Capri: balls to the wall natural beauty, where I rolled up my pants like Huck Finn and dipped myself into the Mediterranean. Also I went to Prada and bought some really cute shoes.

Naples: This just sucks

Florence: Prettyprettypretty even without any nature at all. Dr. Norman Fell chose a nice city to eat people in, and it's a good place to get lost in, too.

Pisa: Somebody fucked up

Then today was 15 hours of travel and I'm not even home yet! How hardcore of me!

Last note for this entry: it may worry some folks to hear that through most of Italy my group and I were stalked by a Horrible Monster. It is called the Gorgonzola, and it is a hideous remnant of the times when nightmares stalked the Earth. And wore red backpacks.

I Cast the Swing Vote

2005-04-19T16:02:00.000-05:00

I got in to Rome at about 11:30, quite a bit late. I don't think the Italians understood that the train I was on was VERY IMPORTANT.

So I cast the vote for Ratzinger because I adore animal names. Sorry, homosexuals!

Revisionist History

2005-04-17T18:01:00.000-05:00

A few months back I put a quiz up on the blog so everybody could compete for a one-pound bag of Starburst.

Though I have eaten all the Starburst from the original Fabulous Prize Package, others can be purchased and it is with this in mind that I give you the new (revisionist) winner of the contest:

~~Mr. Jason~~ Jason

Congratulations! (please allow six to eight weeks for delivery)

Stanley Kubrick's Big Secret

2005-04-14T20:32:00.000-05:00

Step 1: Make a movie like 2001. It doesn't have to be set in space, really - just make sure that a few dozen film critics call it one of the best films ever made.

Step 2: Spend as many years making movies with as many naked girls as you want. It's art!

Bittersweet, Part I: Bitter

2005-04-13T18:14:00.000-05:00

My time in France is drawing to a close, and I'm starting to say goodbye to some of the students. This is sometimes good and sometimes bad.

Last Thursday it was good. I said goodbye to a group that's been difficult almost every time I've had them, and this their last class was no exception.

You know that moment when the bell is ringing and everybody gets out of their seats at the same time? During that moment I (erm) accidentally said to the class "please remember, I hate most of you!"

Whoops. It just kind of popped out.

So no worries, nobody looked at me funny - I think it was well camouflaged by the scraping of chairs and ringing of bell and such.

BUT IT FELT GOOOOOOOOOOOD.

Aw crap

2005-03-29T15:11:00.000-06:00

http://www1.mms.com/us/mpire/large.jsp

I hate to post nothing but bad news, but is there anybody out there who can look at this movie ad for Star Wars M&Ms and not feel despair?

The Dark Lords of the Sith approach - always two there are, and this time we have Darth Insipid and his apprentice Darth Incredibly Banal.

I Just Went To A French Party

2005-03-26T18:09:00.000-06:00

And it was wild.

I got kissed on the neck twice by a Frenchman with big hair named (I think) Bushie.

Turns out I crashed the place because I had given up my Swiss Army knife to someone (Bushie) who came to my door asking for a corkscrew. This is the knife my Dad gave me for my birthday years ago, and certain readers (Meredith, for example. Hi, Meredith!) will remember that I nearly didn't board a plane to San Francisco once because airport security wanted to incinerate it. I was horrified!

So I certainly wasn't going to lend my knife to a raucous party and then let it disappear forever. I HAD TO FOLLOW IT.

I did, in my gangly and unkempt American way. Everybody was very nice but I totally got that feeling you get when you don't really belong. But there was a nice girl who gave me some wine and a Scottish/French guy who I talked with for a while and before I knew it I was kind of hanging out in the midst of the people and nearly getting spilt on a lot. And of course I'm the guy who gets into a protracted conversation with a drunk Frenchman (also Bushie) regarding the potential French rejection of the European Constitution. That always happens to me.

You remember how great those college parties were? When you had all your friends together, even the ones from far away, and you just tore the place up for hours? It was like one of those Minnesota parties from the Madison days except I didn't know anybody.

I can hear them right now. They're singing. The French, I am happy to report, are totally hardcore.

Newspaper Celebrity, Part III

2005-03-25T09:29:00.000-06:00

In November I appeared in the local weekly paper Haut-Anjou.
In December I appeared in the regional daily Ouest-France.

I got a taste for celebrity, and it's about to happen again. The medium of my fame this time? Le Couac. Say it, everybody! Luh Quack!

This is the school newspaper. In about 5 minutes I'm going for an interview. Before long I will RULE THIS SCHOOL. Man, I hope they ask me which teachers totally get on my nerves...

Totally Kafka-ed Out

2005-03-25T09:27:00.000-06:00

I had eight people in today's Terminale - L class. They're good students and they speak pretty good English, so I knew I could count on them to do a good job with a high-level exercise.

The premise is that there was a nasty murder (or something heinous) last night, and everybody is a suspect. They were all in pairs. Give them 10 minutes to work together to construct an alibi, then pick a pair.

One of them is sent out of the room and the other is kept and questioned. Then the exiled person comes back and also gets questioned. If their stories don't match up then it's pretty clear we're dealing with at least one guilty party.

So I decided to spruce the place up a bit while the suspects were out of the room. We closed off the sunlight with the blinds, turned most of the lights out, and arranged the room as a semicircle facing the suspects' table. In other words, we made it SCARY.

It was a riot! The questioners really got into it and did an excellent job of pushing for little details and in general letting the Accused know that this tribunal was not their friend. It was funny, it was scary, it was fantastic. It seems if you just let smart kids run with what language skills they've got, you get really good results.

Score one for them, one for Kafka, and one for me (because I didn't have to do any actual work).

Someone Sent Me A CAKE!

2005-03-24T09:24:00.000-06:00

Wow! I got in to school this morning and there's a note taped to my locker that says "Surprise" (that's French for "surprise"). It points me to the fridge, where there's a big green box with a huge and delectable-looking cake! It says "Happy Birthday Mathiew."

How fantastic! Rumor swirling around here says my parents did it - specifically that my dad called a boulangerie in France and had them make a cake to deliver this morning. HOW HOT IS THAT?

I submit: very, very hot!

Just Pictures: Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery

2005-03-23T07:54:00.000-06:00

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Big Big Big Trip

2005-03-22T09:16:00.000-06:00

There's a problem with my internet connection at home so I'm keeping this short.

Friday I went with the Germans to Paris. Saturday with several fine folk (and some who should be kept far away from children) to Caen in Normandy, and then to the 1944 beaches. Omaha to Gold, then Juno. Sunday: Utah beach, Point du Hoc, and the city of Bayeux for a monster tapestry.

Monday to Chartres to climb the gigantic-est cathedral I've ever seen: Notre Dame de Chartres. It's in really bad shape, but I foolishly climbed it anyway.

Details and pictures to come, but I just wanted to update quick before a little meeting with a teacher and then back home.

Germans, Part II

2005-03-17T18:10:00.000-06:00

It's too late at night before a really early day to be writing, but I'm doing it anyway. I'm off to Paris for most of tomorrow with the Germans. The German exchange students, that is. I don't think I mentioned in my last post that the field trip was with the French and the German exchange students.

I don't honestly know what the plan is, there, but I'm going to be pleasant and well-mannered and then I'm going to sneak off to Normandy the next day. I'll see the beaches. It's important.

Tonight I had two pints of Beamish in an Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirish-ish pub in the middle of nowhere, France. News flash: I saw no Irish people.

Okay, go prank somebody!

Best Field Trip EVER

2005-03-16T15:34:00.000-06:00

This is why it was a good idea to go to France. I don't know what anybody else's Wednesday looked like, but I skipped out of my classes to join a field trip to Mont Saint-Michel and Saint-Malo.

What does that mean?

The first part of my day I spent at Mont Saint-Michel, a fortified abbey that was built over the course of 500 years on a 300-foot hill of rock that juts out of the English channel. At high tide, it's surrounded by water. At low tide, it's surrounded by quicksand. Forget about finding a watch in the desert; if you want a natural formation to make you suspicious that some mischievous mind was planning stuff from the beginning, then this is what you're looking for.

Picture: I spent the morning at Mont Saint Michel.

The afternoon I spent in Saint-Malo, a fortified coastal city that was a center of pirate activity for a couple hundred years. This place just blew me away.

Picture: Some youngish French pirates storm Saint-Malo.

It was too big of an experience to cover in one post. More to come!

EuroSoccer Maniacs Watch the Simpsons in French

2005-03-13T19:33:00.000-06:00

Today was a lovely day - I was gone for most of it. In the afternoon I got a call from my neighbor, Samuel. He proposed that we take advantage of the weather and head out for some basketball. I gathered with him and a couple of other guys at a nice sport complex the next town over and we played some soccer and basketball.

Not played, really. Just messed around; you know how that goes.

There was much rejoicing * because I lost track of time. I was just relaxed, having fun, and not entertaining any back-of-the-mind worries. Score!

Except I'm really bad at basketball. That continues to irk me.

After a break for a change of clothes and a Secret Errand, we reconvened at Damien's place for some Simpsons. Some Simpsons in French, I might add! The voices aren't bad at all; poor Mackenzie had a much worse time of it in Germany, where they clearly have no idea what the Simpsons are all about. In fact, my only real complaint is that the person voicing Homer doesn't grok the solid brick of je ne sais quoi that is "D'oh!"

We watched the Beer Baron episode, the New York City episode, and one other which I've forgotten. It was a real treat, and a great capper to a fine bit of social fun. Next time I'm bringing the football; we'll see who's really an athlete then!

Footnote:

yaaaaaaaaay.
back to entry

Live Again - Better Than Ezra

2005-03-12T16:03:00.000-06:00

Back in my second year in college I got my heart broken. It was a pretty horrendous experience: I lost a lot of control over myself and I got monumentally caught up in my head and in my hurt. So there I was in early 1999, locked tight into my dorm room and just lost at sea-

Of course, like anyone, I had a Special Secret Breakup Song. It's what I would listen to over and over and just let all those feelings fly.

My song is called Live Again, by Better Than Ezra.
Samples (poor quality, best I could do)

Version 1

Version 2

I stayed far away from it for years because hearing it would always throw me right back into the same set of feelings I had during the really rough times. But I really love the song - two guitars floating in and out, playing with a gentle synth line. Excellent drumming and distortion bass. And then you have the lyrics, which are right up the alley of the heartbroken.

Just the other day I came upon BTE's live disc, and I saw it had a version of this song. Oh, me, oh, my! I impulse bought the album (thank you, iTunes), turned up the volume, and took a good listen.

I didn't quite expect to feel so uplifted. As my dad always says: forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. It feels good to move on - to progress. This song is a good reminder of how far I've come.

So, how about you, Faithful Readers? I can't be the only person with a Special Secret Breakup Song.
Confess below the soundtracks to your heartbreak, your pining, your hope - whatever seems most important. We'll all bond; it'll be fun.

And anyone who can help me figure out how to play this song on guitar is my hero.

This One's For Wendy

2005-03-12T13:07:00.000-06:00

Hey, Wendy!

I was talking to one of the French teachers the other day about expressions, and at an opportune moment I dropped IL Y A UN CAFARD DANS MON LAIT AU CHOCOLAT on him. This guy, being of good nature, waited until I finished giggling to ask me what exactly I was trying to pull with his language.

I thought you should know, and since I don't have your email address right now I'm writing to you using the whole internet as my medium.

Your Friend,

Fox Mulder

Vindication of French Sport

2005-03-12T12:42:00.000-06:00

I've joked with a couple of people lately that I will have a hard time teaching the French to throw the football I brought with me because they don't have any feelings. Wait, no, because they don't have sports where one throws a ball overhand. The closest I could imagine was throw-ins from soccer, but that doesn't count because they use two hands for that.

So I was feeling comfortably superior for a couple of weeks. Then I saw a handball match. A friend of mine took me to see a game at his former team's home stadium, where I saw Angers-Noyant play a tight game against a better team only to fall apart and lose badly in the final minutes. It was just like Wisconsin sports!

Handball plays like basketball, except there's a goalie and the object isn't a hoop - it's a net, sized between a hockey goal and a soccer one. There's occasional dribbling, decent passing, picks and rolls, all your usual stuff. But what makes me take back what I said about the French is how they make shots on goal. It's a grand windmilling spectacle, usually performed airborne, and these gentlemen do put some zing on the ball. Kudos, France!

I Was Really Dumb In College

2005-03-12T10:33:00.001-06:00

I was in the shower today when I realized how dumb I was in college. Dumb about girls, not about history of science. After I had my bad episode, girl-wise, I was pretty paralyzed for the next couple of years to anything beyond kissing. What a great way to spend college, right?

So I had several girls who were interested in me. I was interested right back, but it turns out I wasn't ready. Some of these girls I pushed away harder than I should have. Especially Steph. And Laurie. Chances are, if your name is Julie I owe you an apology. And all the others, too... If it didn't go right, it wasn't you.

Olympic Tennis

2005-03-12T10:27:00.000-06:00

No matter where the 2012 Olympics end up, I think their tennis venue should be the Burj Al Arab Hotel.

Strikes, Movies, Dirty Words

2005-03-12T09:09:00.000-06:00

Usually Thursday is my busiest day, but this particular Thursday there was a massive strike throughout most of the public sector.* Only my first class bothered to show up at all. This is the third time this year I've had classes disrupted due to strikes by teachers, students, or both.

Let's talk about strikes for a minute, because they're different here. French strikes aren't, in general, like the big American-flavored strikes that drag on and make everybody feel the hurt. Remember the UPS strike? Major League Baseball? How about the Chicago garbage collector strike? You'd better believe there was public outcry on that one.

In France they do one-day strikes, but they do them in style. Thursday's action was more of a net of mutually reinforcing strikes that had a shock-and-awe effect. In addition to public stuff like the post offices and some schools, the national railways and Paris transportation systems went mostly dark. Even air travel was affected. About 150,000 people clogged Paris in a massive protest.

All this happened while the International Olympic Committee was touring the city in a big bus. Ever been embarrassed in front of the international community? France has!

So, because of the strike, this Thursday I showed chunks of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Philadelphia to a grand total of maybe 17 kids. I spent one cancelled class period writing the dirtiest things I could think of on the whiteboard in my very best penmanship. Day well spent.

Footnotes
* the strike was timed to disrupt the IOC's visit to Paris to evaluate it as a candidate city for the 2012 Summer Olympics.

Anyway, screw Paris. Back the Bid!
Back

There's So Much To Say!

2005-03-10T13:27:00.000-06:00

I wrote down a list of some of the things I really want to write about on the blog. I can't write it all tonight because I am still trying to catch up on sleep, which I have been (wisely!) denying myself. I'll be back tomorrow.

WHY ARE THERE GERMANS?

THROWING STUFF NOT CORRECT

BETTER THAN EZRA

SNOWMAN PICS

NAUGHTY WORDS / STRIKE

WENDY I SAID ILY A ETC

SILLY #!%*@# ELF SCREENPLAY

Uh, oh. Already I have forgotten what the second item is all about. This may be a problem. A little help, creative types?

Stay tuned, folks. After classes tomorrow we'll see what we can do about illuminating things a bit.

I Brought Them Snow - Behold, I Am the SnowMaker

2005-03-02T15:20:00.000-06:00

When I got here, I was disappointed to discover that snow in this area is rare. I am a devotee of throwing snow, of rolling around in it, of burying friends and foes alike under deep drifts and proclaiming victory. I grew up with snow. Some of my best friends are snow.

You get the picture.

Today I brought these folks snow. I imagine it must be my fault - if I have come from Chicago, I think the snow has followed. It was fun to see the little French hurling snow at each other, and they weren't half bad for a culture that has no sports that depend on chucking stuff at/toward other people.

Furthermore, there was a snowman. A group of about 20 built this sucker up, adorned it with a jacket, a hat, really good eyes made from rocks, and even one dedicated student's shoes.

Points for the French, then. There's a ton more going on these days, but I've been squeezing myself out of sleep lately so I'm going to delay all that. This is more an I'm-not-dead entry than anything else. Carry on!

Oh, NOW I get it...

2005-02-26T15:30:00.000-06:00

Hello, all....

So I've been puzzled since I got back from my utterly kickass London trip about why I'm all low-energy and mopey and inclined to stay inside my apartment. I mean, I clawed and scraped my way out of Chicago, and I nailed shut the open hole of regret that had been pestering me since I didn't go to France in 2001 like I originally planned. I'm living in a beautiful 13th century village in FRANCE, and I have no problems on the scale of the tsunami-hell that enveloped so much of coastal Asia lately. So why be all poopy and down in the dumps?

I mean, honestly, I was living zombie-life from Tuesday to Friday. What's up with that?

So NOW I get it... I've been *lonely*. It's so simple! I went from hanging around with my cousin (who I'm utterly comfortable with) in a land that speaks English (ditto) to being back to my routine in France, which has a good deal of isolation to offer.

To sum up:

England: with cousin, not self-conscious about language, verbal facility at a nice high level
France: with nobody, self-conscious about language, verbal facility cursed like Star Wars movies after Rick McCallum

So in reality I don't do too badly when confronted with French People. It's just that I get so nervous about those encounters. But when I don't shy away, it usually goes very well. Wednesday last, for example, I was invited to a stranger's house to meet their daughter (don't worry, Meredith!) who had just come back from Canada. The people I was supposed to go with weren't at their house at the appointed time, so I thought I had screwed up (of course, I was seven minutes late). So, screwing up my courage, I knocked on the door of the house that the New French lived in.

Well, even though my familiar French weren't there either, I got nicely welcomed and had to make my way socially in what I thought was an awkward position. Here I was, knocking unannounced on the front door of a family I had never met and having to make conversation without the folks I was supposed to be there with. Ugly, huh?

As it turned out, everything went fine. The daughter in question was probably 17 or 18 and we talked for a bit about English in schools, schools in general, and her amazing trips to places like Thailand and Quebec. Admittedly, I thought Thailand was more impressive than Quebec, and I got to see her pictures, which proved me right.

I helped her on her English homework, talked to her parents a bit, and then ate dinner with my (until then absentee) French friends. It turned out to be about six and a half hours of French, French, French and I think I did a fine job of it.

So here are the points of the lecture, then I will give you a bonus set of pictures.
1) England was great because I relaxed and had fun
2) France is hard sometimes because I'm always aware of my shortcomings
3) When I give France a chance, it usually turns out pretty well
4) I am like Ford Prefect

I am like Ford Prefect in the sense that I would very much like a party, with dancing and drinks and people I can relate to (see Life, the Universe, and Everything for more details). So I guess what I'm trying to say is: if I go and live life to the fullest for a couple more months, can I have a gigantic party with all my friends and lots of American beer when I return? Because, honestly, that would really rock. (Sam and Erin, I'm talking about that surprisingly fun night in Chicago writ large) Also, I should be back in time for Star Wars, and let me tell you I am prepared to scream like a little girl when "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..." appears. Y'all have been warned.

That's it. I just wanted to share. So here are some more London photographs:
The British Museum has a fantastic new dome roof
Ellen MacArthur's victory lap over the Thames
The moon flanking Parliament
The actual Rosetta Stone
Stonehenge along with spooky-strong sunlight
St. Paul's Cathedral, Part I
St. Paul's Cathedral, Part II

Also, I want the Domo-kun hat from this store like you wouldn't believe. My birthday's on its way, keep in mind.

Quick Dose of London Pictures, Morrissey Songs

2005-02-21T16:39:00.000-06:00

Okay, I'm back in the village of Very Small out here in rural France, and I wanted to toss out a few pictures of my London trip. I am sad that my camera batteries died on Sunday because I had several more things to take pictures of, but overall I am still totally digging this trip.

Also, I'm tossing out a quick list of Morrissey songs because they kept floating through my head during the trip - getting off the tube at Earl's Court, for example, kept Piccadilly Palare in my head for hours at a time - something for y'all to dig up and listen to if you like.

PICTURES

Me and Stonehenge

Anna Crushes Time

Big Ben at Night, Backing the Bid (please note the Eye of London, seeming small)

Stonehenge on its lonesome

MORRISSEY SONGS

From Bona Drag

Piccadilly Palare, for Picadilly Circus and Earl's Court

Hairdresser on Fire, for Sloane Square

From You Are the Quarry

Come Back to Camden, for Camden Town

Irish Blood, English Heart, for Oliver Cromwell

i am not lame.

2005-02-20T15:25:00.000-06:00

hey folks! matt's illustrious cousin here and i am under strict orders not to be lame, thus the title of this entry. i'm thinking positive here. bear with me.
so here we are in london, capital of the great empire which is/was/were great britain, also known as england also known as the united kingdom (geez i wish they'd make up their mind). we had no queen sightings. though in honor of matt's beret and mime count that is currently running in france, we have spotted one official beret and one official mime. both not french. do they count? sure. why not?
though i haven't read what matt has added of our adventures, i am sure he has not told you blog-readers that today we took the boat into greenwich and visited the prime meridian. there were pictures taken of cousin e cousin, meridian e meridian. we also saturated our brains with much learned knowledge before bearing the brutal chilliness of a whopping 38 degrees fahrenheit back to the boat.
however, the pure highlight today was our chance meeting of ellen macarthur, champion of the solo journey around the world in her oh-so-schnazzy B+Q boat. she told us we were the coolest tourists to walk on the greenwich pier ever. no she didn't. she didn't even see us. but we were 1 foot away from the mayor of greenwich who apparently likes to wear women's clothing and jewelry and found a way to do that professionally without the sleaze...
so yes. london has been great. i am ever so pleased matt fought his way out of french country and joined up with the anglos this week. we have had a smashing time.
sadly the journey ends tomorrow, with him returning to chateau gontier tomorrow via tube via bus via plane via train (?) and i via tube via plane via bus via bus. but i do have an anxious kitty waiting for me, and a job that is begging me to pay off the bills i have piled up this week. but it's all for the sake of london and so that makes everything okay!
so off i go, passing the pay-internet at the hostel back over to matthewjohn. peace out yo, and for godssake, god bless the queen, especially since we can't get her to come to matt's world fair this summer. (you all, however, will surely make it. there will be t-shirts, fried twinkies and old people i hear).
anna

I Henge, You Henge

2005-02-18T11:07:00.000-06:00

We all Henge for Stonehenge!

Today included a completely unexpected trip to Stonehenge, which turned me from Hardened Traveller to Weepy-Eyed Fan Boy. Also crawled up onto a 5,500 year-old burial mound and a bit inside its excavated parts, met a nice gent from the BBC, and managed to completely wipe myself out by 5 PM.

Cousin Anna and I have hatched an extremely complicated plan to go read at a coffeeshop for an hour or two. It is extremely dangerous and we are courageous, but this we do - for England.

Report on London Bridge

2005-02-17T14:05:00.000-06:00

Today I walked across London Bridge. It was not falling down, burning down,
or anything down. Except for OPP. LB was down wit OPP.

My Fair Lady, according to scattered intelligence, is as far away as
Illinois. This has created confusion among the troops.

I will update this entry later, but I want to list out some of the things for
today:
The Globe Theater
The National Theater
- saw the play His Dark Materials, Part II
Tower of London
Tower Bridge
I live in Earl's Court

Keep watching this space, or you will find yourself floating back home
(apologies to Han Solo).

Chips, Possibly Fish

2005-02-15T16:26:00.000-06:00

So I'm going to London to visit my cousin Anna. And also I guess I'm going to visit London, too. But you wouldn't know it by looking at me, what with my "I'm with ~~stupid~~ Anna" t-shirt and my big 10-gallon hat with flashing lights that spell out "HOWDY COUSIN".

The hat, by the way, is red.

I intend to order chips and fish and ask where the Eiffel Tower is and point out Big Ben and yawn whilst I mention the Sears Tower (or better yet, the LaSalle Bank Building, which excitingly caught on fire shortly after I stopped working there).

I will also try to spend as little money as humanly possible, as it is sooooo expensive. But I'm going to Harrod's, man! You can buy DOGS there, and CARS. We shall see what I come back with.

And I will try out Douglas Adams's advice on making tea *. I'll see if I can understand what the shouting's been about.

* This is much better than Captain Picard's way of making tea, which is a little pansyish, you've got to admit...

Did You Know

2005-02-12T14:09:00.000-06:00

that if you apply a layer of shaving cream to your bathroom mirror it'll leave some sort of residue that prevents the mirror from fogging over for several weeks' worth of showers?

Hot Tip courtesy my mom, though she could have gotten it from Queer Eye which means everybody thinks I'm stupid for posting it in the year 2005. I say bring it on. I'll beat ya.

Keeping the Fire Away From My Face From Now On

2005-02-12T13:52:00.000-06:00

Because it's Saturday night and I told this guy I would head out on the town though I don't want to because I am anxious and timid and just want real friends that I don't have to pretend I'm having fun with, I have been playing with matches for the last 50 minutes.

I'm having fun with combination burns and delayed secondary-flare effects and stuff when I decide to grip a match with my teeth so it's poking out of my mouth like a hick toothpick and light that bitch with the flame from another match. And people, it was fucking TERRIFYING. How do you smokers do that? I never thought about that before - there's FIRE and it's on its way to your NOSE, then your brainpan probably after. FEAR!

Furthermore: In the USA I have friends who are reliably weird, and this makes me feel free to do whatever. I have one friend who, if you tell him to try to flag down a taxi by waving his bare dick at it, he will say "it's me" and do it because he is a crazy bastard. I have one friend who really enjoyed shooting at everybody's feet during high school archery and we still like him anyway. I have one friend who graffitied my house once with the words INADEQUATE PANTS and actually stole a five foot tall replica of Ralph Nader's head. I have one friend who is a girl now even though she wasn't a girl before and the biggest problem with it is pronouns. I have one friend who helped me out of a rough spot one night by THROWING a baby past my line of sight and into a closed door and then following himself (also airborne), landing ON said baby and then doling out righteous physical punishment to the thing. I should note that this was a DOLL baby, a model baby if you will, but it did have a bullseye painted on its ass in red.

When you've got these sorts of people around, you tend not to worry about how weird you are because hey, weird is already covered.

But when they're gone? Well, I, for one, don't really know exactly how to deal with people that are perfectly nice and normal. I keep waiting for somebody to throw a baby here in France, but it hasn't happened yet.

Awwww, FREAK OUT

2005-02-11T20:01:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted for a long time and it's because I spent all that time FREAKING OUT. I freaked myself out of my skin and back and let me tell you it wasn't worthwhile at all.

I'd tell you all about it but it's boring - short version is that being timid gets compounded by being in a weird environment, and eventually all your friends are fictional.

So why not just haul off and blog like nobody's watching? Yeah, we'll just see about that. http://www.dooce.com

Minogue Accused of Lip Enhancement Surgery

2005-01-26T12:02:00.000-06:00

I swear to God this is a headline at IMDB today. The best thing? The blurb treats this as a serious transgression, with Kylie Minogue's spokesman (presumably with furrowed brow) "refus[ing] to comment on the allegations."

Good God.

Does anybody remember my Wall of Things Humanity Should Be Ashamed Of? It starts anew today.

Pictures: The Eiffel Tower

2005-01-24T18:40:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since I last posted any pictures, so here go a few. The Eiffel Tower, December 17th and 20th, 2004.

My first view of the Tower, from the bus

Me, the Tower, and Baby's First Statue o' Liberty. It was very windy that day, which is why I look like an idiot.

The Tower and the Egyptian Obelisk, which I believe is a real one given by Egypt to France during the Mitterand days.

The tower from below, at night. I felt like I was taking pictures up a nice lady's skirt doing this. My guilt rages unabated.

The Tower on the Paris skyline at dusk, from one of the many bridges over the Seine

and, finally, just because You Deserve It -

Here is an elephant who says "don't touch me".

Molière's a Bastard

2005-01-24T18:04:00.000-06:00

The play that I got a free ticket to? Yes, it was in French. One thing I didn't mention was that it was in 17th century French, though I'm told it holds up fairly well as understandable fare for the French of today.

So the play was called George Dandin. Judging from audience reaction, it was quite funny. Certainly the set design was hot stuff, at least in the more modern Let's Not Pretend We're Actually In A Forest, Hey? school of spare design. It was a wooden circle set on the stage and tilted almost perilously toward the audience. There were nine trapdoors in this wooden platform, arranged in a square like the spaces you'd fill in in tic-tac-toe. The tic-tac-toe reference may have been intentional, but I'd have to see the text to figure that out.

Three of the trap doors had ladders poking out, which gave it a sense of depth beneath the stage that it didn't have. Furthermore, at a couple of points characters jumped off the back end and didn't make a sound when they landed - it was just like they'd jumped off a cliff, and it made for a really neat moment while I was waiting for the person to land. After half a moment I realized that they had just exited (poof) stage up. Nifty.

But as for the play? Afraid I fell asleep, but don't tell! At the end of the night, all assembled agreed it was quite well done. I nodded along with, because I liked the design and I could tell the acting was good. 'nuff said.

Molière and Meat

2005-01-21T18:38:00.000-06:00

Okay, jet lag has almost released its horrible grip on me. At this point I am sleeping a ton, but I'm back to the daylight schedule set by France, so you may now consider me back to life and posting like usual.

Two bits of news today -

1) I am not what you call a natural cook. I am very comfortable in the kitchen, true, but that's because I have a plush chair there, sitting right by the microwave. I am not *bad* at cooking so much as unskilled. My nightmare is that there are bits of common knowledge that I have never encountered, some folksy rituals that I will screw up like 'if you don't add two thimbles of eye of newt just before the meat is braised your steak turns to deadly poison'. You know, the sort of thing that nobody bothers to mention because *everybody* knows it? I am that person who is dumb enough to think that eye of newt is not necessary. For that matter, I have only the vaguest idea what braising is. Also thimbles. Are they like brambles?

So my mom, right? She has just written me the best Hamburger Guide ever, in that it is tailored exactly to people like me who are afraid of the Oh I Never Knew That Part class of error. I am now excited to cook something basic, and I really hope someday to feel wild and free in the kitchen, instead of comfy in my nice chair. Thanks, Mom!

2) Ever heard of Jean Baptiste Poquelin de Molière? Of course you have! You know, the 17th century French comedic playwright! Yes, that's the one. I've just been given a free ticket to a showcase tonight of some of Molière's stuff. In French. Everybody says it's great, but, you know, they are French people and understand the French language.

We'll see how I do.

What the Hell?

2005-01-11T11:42:00.000-06:00

Okay, I guess I live in France again. I'm confused, though - the sun is just coming up and by all rights it's time for my mid-afternoon nap.

On the plus side - it turns out that I don't have any classes the first day back, as the kids are all sweating it out in mock exams of the biggest, bad-assest variety I've ever seen.

On the minus side - it looks like I missed another compulsory medical appointment with the French government by virtue of being out of the country. What is it with countries that want to make you turn your head and cough? Creepy!

Also it seems that it's possible I didn't pack any and all cameras that I was planning on packing. Sad, isn't it? I separate the things into a separate pile so I won't lose them and whoops - they don't get into the bag.

So forgive my rambles - jet lag cracks its whip.

Merry Christmas!

2004-12-25T03:45:00.000-06:00

The tree is up, the lights are on, the world is quiet, we have watched "Scrooge." I am at home, and Christmas is upon us all.

Merry Christmas, everybody - I wish you all peace.

Hey, I'm Coming Back For A Bit

2004-12-18T17:15:00.000-06:00

So I'm writing this from a BAR - must keep it short or Uncool Rays will cook my soul.

I'm back in the Cedarburg-Grafton Metro Area from the 22nd until the 30th or so. Please keep in mind that I want a big party with music and people I can relate to sometime during this timeframe, therefore I do propose to all readers of this Blog:

Thursday, December 23rd
Circle B
Evening

A night of pool playing and generally being too big for our collective britches shall ensue. Come visit!

Meredith Trip - Paris Impressions

2004-12-14T19:25:00.000-06:00

Paris was awesome! Dude, I was just kind of walking around - walking around PARIS! The feeling I get now and then when I think back to Cedarburg or Keene (that's in New Hampshire, 'k?) and realize how much of a different, bigger, more threatening deal Chicago was when I first moved there comes back to me. Except that instead of thinking that Chicago is in a wholly different class than those tiny cities of my origin because of its millions of people, transit systems, large buildings, and prodigious murder rates, I think about how Paris is another step up for me from Chicago. Not only is Paris a city every bit as big as Chicago, it's more complex in that I don't know it yet and I still managed to negotiate it (and let me tell you, getting from Chateau Gontier to Paris or vice versa is nobody's exact cup of tea), plus everybody speaks French.

What I mean to say, basically, about Paris is this: it's another set of challenges, another set of unknowns to explore and figure out, and it's still one of those cities that ranks among the Biggest Ever, Thank You. I didn't really see too much of the actual city, and just about 0% of the major landmarks. I did, however, get a hotel room, use the bus, RER (subway, where you must remember to KEEP YOUR TICKET because you need it to exit the station), and train a grand vitesse (Really Fast Train) to get around, and I did it all in French. None of this was all that hard, but what it means to me is that I can do all of this. I can hack my way through a foreign country using their language and getting on the good sides of their waiters. I can negotiate complicated scheduling problems and manage not to seem too much like a tourist. This builds confidence, and I have an appetite for a bunch more of it.

Also, Charles de Gaulle - Roissy airport is large and tortured. The ride between Terminal 1 and 2 is about 10 minutes by bus. Yuck.

Point/Counterpoint

2004-12-11T13:51:00.000-06:00

Why France is Rules:
The ATMs give your card back and wait until you take it before they give you the money.

Why France is Sucks:
It is impossible to use that money to buy toilet paper anywhere in the country if it happens to be Sunday.

Picture of the (erm) Day: The Tropics!

2004-12-10T13:32:00.000-06:00

Welcome to Tropical France, featuring both palm trees and lens flare!

This was taken in the courtyard of the building across the street from me. It probably used to be a nunnery (sorry, I'm tired of the word convent, plus nunnery is so much more... vivid).

I was waiting for an exhibition on Greek and Etruscan pottery to open (yeah, I live it up here, you know), and realized that I had just been transplanted to Tahiti or something. It looks warm, right? It was actually about 40 degrees outside. Which should teach you all one thing: PICTURES LIE! Especially MY PICTURES!

Picture of the (erm) Day: Creepy Gates

2004-12-09T20:10:00.000-06:00

The Creepy Gates - what terror lurks behind them?!

Probably a 1987 Citroen.

Picture of the (erm) Day: Magical Shirt

2004-12-07T19:18:00.000-06:00

So Meredith brought me a gift when she visited - a shirt that turns me into a hideous monster!

P.S. No I was not a hideous monster before.

Make My Phone Ring

2004-12-06T19:46:00.000-06:00

First you dial the International Dialling Code: 011

Then you dial the Country Code: 33

Then you dial the Secret Code Number Which Maketh the Red Batphone Ring: 2 43 06 63 46

And that, my friends, is how we do that.

And since I am aware of the fact that international dialling is hardcore possibly expensive stuff, I only ask you to call and say two things to me:

1) Which of our 50 fair states should be annihilated - not just tossed from the Union in disgrace but tossed then vaporized by a medium item such as a laser cannon?

And, since it would be a total pain to redesign our flag for 49 stars ...

2) What nation, disputed territory, person, monument, geopolitical feature, philosophical movement, or major feature film should be tapped to take the vaporized state's place?

So, for example, you could call me and say "Ohio, Puerto Rico" or "Oregon, Nihilism" or whatever. Be creative. It'll only cost you a nickel and it will make my day happy and/or interesting. You don't even have to identify yourself! Such fun!

I should add that you don't even have to know me in order to participate. If you out there in internet-land want to play along, well, be my guest!

I will post responses as comments, so keep checking this space.

Chocolate Gunshot

2004-12-03T19:20:00.000-06:00

Chocolate Gunshot is likely to be the new name of Strawberry Alarm Clock when they reform for their reunion tour sometime in the next couple of years and find that their original name has been copyrighted by a specialty timepiece concern from Osaka.

In the meantime, it is the official name of my own little ritual here in France. It is not only a fantastic demonstration of sound physics, it is also proof that I picked a very special place to live and indeed a really fun game to play with unsuspecting French people.

My kitchen has a high ceiling - maybe 11 or 12 feet. When I open the window, it overlooks an enclosed shopping area with a *really* high ceiling - panels of glass about 30 or 35 feet above ground level. What this means to me is that I can open my window, place a bar of refrigerator-chilled supermarket brand chocolate on the sill, and break it using the sill as a brace. The resulting sound ricochets off my kitchen's surfaces and out into the shopping area, where it ricochets still more - sounds like small arms fire and nobody can tell where it's coming from.

Chocolate Gunshot - just one more tiny yet worthwhile thing I would not have gotten to do had I not come to France.

Picture of the (erm) Day: My Mascot

2004-12-03T19:01:00.000-06:00

So during a (disasterous, actually) class a couple of weeks ago, I was motivated to draw a flying fish on the whiteboard.

He is now the mascot of my classroom.

Nothing Better

2004-12-02T12:39:00.000-06:00

There is nothing funnier than when one of your students, in an example of making up a sentence illustrating the difference between British and American English, tells the class that he has sweets in his trousers.

I don't think he meant anything by it; it was just silly.

What a wonderful job I've got.

Meredith's Entry (Entry de la Girl) - Now Annotated With Pictures!

2004-12-01T14:31:00.000-06:00

I am happy to report that I now speak fluent french. I am also a newly minted expert on french cuisine: namely, pizza. Often confused as the creation of Italy, pizza is a culinary landmark of France, especially midwestern french countryside. I recommend getting it with another parisian classic: tirimisu. They have also recreated an excellent version of our french onion soup. Mmmmm....

Suffice it to say, I am VERY VERY happy here. And may not come back. I have never seen a more beautiful town than Chateau Gontier (Laval almost beats it, but is currently handicapped by its excess of tacky Christmas cheer: i.e. too many lights and elves and trees and snowmen etc. etc. etc.). Matthew has all the ancient beauty and magic of a town fairly untouched for the past several hundred years at his fingertips, and I think we have all been getting skimped on a number of pictures.

How can I best describe it here...the shoes are VERY expensive. The roads are narrow and winding and in many cases cobblestoned. The houses are tilting and bulging and would never pass American inspection. Everyone is quite kind, and there are many cats that seem to like us and wish we would take them home. We have spent much time walking for hours and hours, along the Mayenne River or in search of baby goats. Did I mention I'm happy?

And France seems to be good for Matthew's soul. Either that or I am. Actually, it's probably me.

Matthew's teenagers are VERY VERY giggly. I am reminded that at some time I was probably giggly too. And french teenagers don't actually speak english with any superiority. I was much put at ease to find out that they speak english with a similar clutziness to which I spoke Spanglish in high school. They seem to like Mr. Porubcansky quite a bit: they have a great time in his class and only slightly abuse his kindness.

Now I have a brief ode to Matthew himself. His french is superb, and only earlier today a stranger asked him if he had lived outside of france, as she detected a bit of an accent. Needless to say, Sir Matt John has been glowing ever since. He has also done a superb job of getting to know this new city, and has been an impeccable escort, leading me everywhere, knowing all the sights, and of course, translating. He has risked life and limb each morning to hunt us fresh bison, bread, and butter for a classic french breakfast. Also, he is the best boyfriend ever.

That's all for now, because there are too many magical moments to mention, I'm sleepy, and we still have another 100 pages to go on the Da Vinci Code.

love to all!
girl

Bonus Pictures!
Girl in Laval: 1 2
Girl in High Fashion: 1 2
Girl near Mansion: 1
Girl being French: 1

Aftermath

2004-12-01T14:01:00.000-06:00

I am wrung through the blender and back by these past few days, which I'm sure is nothing compared to what it did to Meredith, who had five days to go from CST to FFT (Fucking French Time) and back.

So here I am, listening to the Smiths, perusing some of our pictures from the vacation, and trying to reflect. I got her from the airport Thursday, and it's been what feels like two really wonderful days since then.

I feel alone already, and I miss Meredith and I miss my family and I miss my friends. This trip of hers has reminded me viscerally of my network of people back at home. I am on my way back for Christmas.

I really liked taking care of Meredith while she was here. I cooked breakfast a bunch, which was really exciting. I also was pleased to have people for her to meet, a place carved out to show her, and the ability to let her enjoy her time here without worrying at all about trains or hotels or bus schedules or paying for anything.

I liked walking with her past the river. I liked sneaking out to the grocery store while she was still sleeping so she could have bread and tea at breakfast. I liked showing her the places I might have lived and the place I ended up taking. I liked planning a trip to Nantes but having too much to do here at home. I liked picking her up and carrying her around. Overall, the trip was wonderful. Since it's been bedtime for quite a while now, I will save specific impressions for future posts. Sorry to cut y'all off now, but I'm just about done writing!

Originally posted 11:05 PM November 30

Picture of the Day: Culture Shock In Writing

2004-12-01T13:27:00.000-06:00

At the airport: it now seems that the police are able to detonate any bit of luggage at any moment. You gotta be careful!

A poster from the wall in my classroom. Goodbye the freedom, indeed! I have no rollerblades here.

Quiz Results

2004-12-01T13:23:00.000-06:00

1) What is my favorite bit of menacing cartoon-iconography from the musical world? Hint: it/she/he has appeared in this blog.

Answer: Radiohead Bear, 1 point

2) What is my House Name from Sabotage (the red house, you know, in Madison)?

Answer: The Gondolier of Atrocities, 1 point

3) Have I ever written a letter to Jack T. Chick?

Answer: Yes, 1 point

4) True or False: I have offered up my cousin David as a husband to a 17-year-old French girl.

Answer: Yes, 1 point

5) Do I like Ragstock?

Score 0 for "yes", 1 for "no", 2 for "FUCKYOU"

6) How many times has my mother threatened to disown me?

1 point for any answer greater than one, but 9,370 for the correct answer, which is the total number of days I have been alive, margin of error 15.

Bonus Question 1) Fill in the blank: Twenty dollars can buy many ________!

Answer: peanuts, 1 point

Bonus Question 2) Which actress is my only weak spot, despite the fact that she has yellow hair and cannot act (at all)?

Answer: Heather Graham, 1 point

So the winner is MY MOTHER, with a final score of 9,375. She was the only person who actually bothered to answer my cunningly conceived quiz. 1 pound bag of Starburst for you, Mom! Everyone else, you make me cry!

Rabbit, Rabbit

2004-12-01T12:43:00.000-06:00

Hey, it's the first of the month. My 4th grade teacher, Miss Corriveau, always urged us to say 'rabbit, rabbit'. Where are you now, Miss Corriveau? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you!

She's Leaving On A Jetplane, Also a Quiz

2004-11-24T13:12:00.000-06:00

And I am going to the airport to pick her up! My own Thanksgiving celebration this year will be with an extremely nice redheaded vegetarian girl. Perhaps you've heard me mention her?

So I'll be out and about in Paris, Chateau Gontier, Nantes, and maybe Rennes for several days. Expect some pictures after and maybe even a guest entry from The Girl herself.

So in the meantime, to amuse yourselves, here is a quiz about me. Highest score gets a one-pound bag of Starburst. No cheating, please!

1) What is my favorite bit of menacing cartoon-iconography from the musical world? Hint: it/she/he has appeared in this blog.

2) What is my House Name from Sabotage (the red house, you know, in Madison)?

3) Have I ever written a letter to Jack T. Chick?

4) True or False: I have offered up my cousin David as a husband to a 17-year-old French girl.

5) Do I like Ragstock?

6) How many times has my mother threatened to disown me?

Bonus Question 1) Fill in the blank: Twenty dollars can buy many ________!

Bonus Question 2) Which actress is my only weak spot, despite the fact that she has yellow hair and cannot act (at all)?

Answers in the Comments, please! Or email them to me; that's fine, too.

Picture of the Day (I Do Hope!)

2004-11-24T11:08:00.000-06:00

I want, in order to make myself update frequently, to start a picture of the day section. Keep in mind that it probably won't be every day, but I'm going to try it out for a bit and see how it goes.

We'll start with two (bonus!) pictures. These are both in Chateau Gontier, and this building, of course, used to be a convent.

Picture: 4 Peaks
Picture: Looking Up

I've had the second one as my desktop wallpaper for a day or so.

I Now Have A Bidet

2004-11-17T16:47:00.000-06:00

But what the hell do I do with it? It's clearly Very French, and I don't trust it one bit.

I'm thinking of balancing a chessboard on it or something.

The Bride of Frankenstein

2004-11-16T19:29:00.000-06:00

Definite hottie.

Actually, this entry is about two things unconnected with the walking dead:

1) France Telecom is charging me 100 Euros for connecting a phone line. Off with their heads (Sam, I'm looking to you for help on this one).

2) I added a bunch of entries today; they're below the updated Ides entry. Make sure you read them or I will be sad.

UPDATED: It's the Ides of November And This Isn't Working

2004-11-16T17:33:00.000-06:00

Okay, here's the ~~scoop~~ ~~skinny~~ ~~411~~ explanation for the lack of updates here recently. It's mostly due to the internet connection circus o' hoops here at Lycée Victor Hugo.

The only computers I have regular access to are staff computers in the teachers room, which are great in that they're there, and not so hot in most other measurable aspects, including being able to work and being under what feels like constant surveillance.

I must add, of course, that they're not under constant surveillance, it's just that I'm doing my best here to conduct my private correspondance in the midst of a constantly shifting group of people, many of whom I have conversations with.

So I'm working on a phone line, and with phone line comes internet access. I have other blog entries typed out and ready, but they're on my keychain drive and the USB ports on this machine aren't working etc etc.

If you're following this blog I beg your patience, because actual content is coming soon. If you're expecting email from me (especially Dave, but especially Orith) I swear to God I'm on it.

In the meantime, here are the Official Counts:

Official Beret Count (France): 1
Official McDonald's Count (Europe): 8
Official Mullet Count (Europe): 2
Official Dwarves Who Look Like ZZ-Top Playing Country Music on the Piano and Accordian in the Town Square Count (Europe): 2

Incidentally, zizi (pronounced ZZ) is a French slang term for, ahem, male genitalia. I was warned off mentioning that band during lessons on American music. See that you all do the same.

More Pictures

2004-11-16T16:53:00.000-06:00

Okay, it's been a bit since I've had some pictures up here. Here are some slices of life . . .

A pretty church two blocks away from chez moi

This hospital used to be a convent, I guess. Most things here used to be convents.

Well, it is a high school, you know.

I like this picture so much I hereby copyright it!

The French label their students rather harshly.

Yeah, there are, like, castles and stuff here.

Not kidding about the convent thing, by the way. This place was absolutely crawling with nuns till the second half of the 20th century. But WHERE DID THEY GO?

My favorite piece of graffiti so far: Radiohead Bear!

Share and Enjoy!

The Wine Here is Good

2004-11-16T16:36:00.000-06:00

port vs. starboard:

WHY DON' THEY JUST SAY LEFT AND RIGHT? IT'S ALL THE SAME RELATIVE TO THE PROW, ISN' TIT?

It's less reliable BECAUSE port is to the right when sialing norht and starboard to the left. It's still more reliabe, in other wordes, to calibrate by the boat not the land!

DIDNT' TEHY ALREADY KNOW ABOUT LERFT AND RIGHT? IF NOT, WHY NOT?
________________________

My hard-edged investigative reporting goes to work for YOU. Film at 11.

For Ky

2004-11-16T16:20:00.000-06:00

Over the weekend, I saw a sign that said "Hyper Super Marché." For the uninitiated, that means "Hyper SuperMarket". Also, I thought he would appreciate this picture, which makes a wise observation vis-a-vis London.