So as some of you already know, on Friday I received wonderful news from UNC-Chapel Hill. They have accepted me into their Philosophy PhD program. One school, that's all I needed. Granted, I could still be accepted into one of the other 4 programs, but for now, one is all I need to have. So law is out, and philosophy is in. I can't convey my excitement. I'm shocked and overjoyed.
Now let me back up. The news came on my mom's birthday, and she had some encouraging words not just about school but for this whole year. Word has it (in the prophetic circles) that this is the year of both new beginnings and double blessings. The proof is supposed to be an abundance of double rainbows this year. Before knowing this, I could tell that this year was going to be a year of change and new beginnings. I've been on the whirlwind of change this year, and it's been great. Going to France has been an experience in itself. I've made wonderful friends here and I've had some time (a lot of time!) to figure out where my true passion lies. Here's how it happened.
Well I've been gung ho about law school since forever, and last year I was accepted to Cornell. But I decided that I needed to spend a year doing something else before I sold my soul to the devil. Cornell is a great school, but it because it wasn't my top choice I didn't feel the need to go right away (had I gotten into Yale or UVA I would be in law school right now, which is a horrifying thought). I was happy to get into Cornell, but slightly disappointed. But now I realize that I had I gotten in elsewhere, I wouldn't be in France this year, and now I'm glad the other schools did turn me down. When I decided to come to France, I remember explaining to Dana that it was good to take a year off and decide if law school is really for me (since I had yet to determine what I wanted to do with a law degree, and it's an expensive decision so one ought to be more sure than I was). She asked me, "If you go to France, would you ever actually decide not to go to law school?" It was a good question, and in my mind then answer was no. Not that I wanted it that badly, but I had no other options. It was law school or the streets (so to speak). But still, it's good to say that you're going to make sure it's what God wants you to do (ha! how little I realized).
When I got here I started working on philosophy independently (thanks to Harry!), and I even got one of my classes to do contemporary moral issues. I loved it, I really did. And I was determined that I would do Cornell's joint MA phil / JD degree, because I didn't want to abandon philosophy completely. And then two things happened that changed everything. The first was a response for Cornell's philo department. I sent them an inquiry into the joint degree program, and they replied by telling me that in fact that program no longer existed. Sorry. Oh... well, um, shoot. What now? (at this point I was doing enough work on my own--and loving it-- and enough to apply to the joint program that my heart was set on it). What a disappointment.
And then the second thing happened. I had sent Harry some comments on something (I can't seem to remember for what) and that prompted a response from Harry saying that I should really consider going to grad school. No, he doesn't usually say this, but yes, he thinks I should go (both because he thought I would like it and would do well there). Really? Had he told me that 3-6 months ago, I would have flat out said not a chance. But now, well now I was in a different place. It was like God was warming me up to that idea all along. I was still a bit skeptical though. Really? I can't do philosophy. I can study it, surely, but I can't contribute anything myself... can I? The seed was planted.
And then the GRE fiasco happened (with the strikes and almost not being able to go). When I almost couldn't get to the test, it became very obvious to me how much I wanted to go to philo grad school. Before I was going to apply, see if I got in, and then decide if maybe I wanted to do it. Now I wanted to go, no need for further contemplation. And just as God kept me out of law school (without freaking me out by shutting me out of all the schools), He got me to the test and helped me pass it (I had a week to study, so for all intensive purposes, I had to wing it). And that's when I started to get my heart set on getting in. It seemed obvious that God was pushing me down that road, a road I would have never dreamed for myself in a million years. I was supposed to go to law school, and I was sure that God wanted me there too. And then all of this happened, and it all made sense. I studied philosophy because I thought it would be good prep for law school, but I had no idea that God wanted me to be doing that all along. Go figure.
Even though I could feel God pushing me in that direction, I was skeptical that it would work out. Sure, I didn't doubt that God could get me in if He really wanted to, but what if He didn't? Do you know how hard it is to get in? It's hard, very hard. And you know what, I wasn't prepared. It be honest, I consider it a miracle that UNC accepted me. Sure they liked my letters and the writing sample, but I'm sure they liked the letters and writing sample of a bunch of the over 300 applicants, and they can only take 7-8. I don't care how qualified you are, it's going to take a miracle (or for the less supernaturally inclined, a good deal of luck). And a miracle it is.
Now something happened over Christmas break that I completely forgot about, and it was something I'd never seen before. When we were driving around Normandy, we saw the most amazing double rainbow. I rarely see rainbows these days, and this one was a perfect double arch. It was beyond cool. What I didn't know was what my mom told me this past Friday. This is the year of the double rainbows, and they will be a sign of God's favor and a new beginning. My mom said that when she saw it she knew immediately that my switch to philosophy was going to work out. She was certain that God was going to get me in to the school He wanted me at, and that would be my new beginning. Looking back on it, it makes sense. Sure, you can call it a coincidence, but I have never seen a double rainbow before, and I may never again, and this is supposed to be the year. I can take a hint. Thank you God. You are too good. Now show me how to use this amazing opportunity to serve you better. I'm ready.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I <3 Valentine's Day
Okay maybe not really <3 (heart). It's feb 14th and you all know what that means. For me, it's just another V-day flying under the radar. I think o and 22 isn't that bad, haha (or as Irene says online... jajaja --and not that's not pronounced jah jah jah like I thought it was). No really, I actually forgot that it was Vday until I went to class. You see, after teaching one of my classes about American high schools one group of students was inspired to organize their own "spirit day" for today. I was so proud. They put posters up and got approval from the principal. They even had a box in the lobby for students to leave love notes that they'd deliver during classes. They went all out. Unfortunately, the French consider it below them to participate in such an uncouth support of anything other than unions or football so it didn't go well. Heck, even I forgot to wear pink or red (oops). I realized my mistake when I saw a group of girls from my class walk up to me in crazy combinations of every red or pink item of clothing they owned. "Lin-say! Where iz yor spirat?" Sorry girls! Of course I didn't get away that easy. One of the girls attacked me with a lip pencil and drew a lovely red heart on my cheek. That works. On the upside, they filled the love note box, even if only their friends actually dressed up.
I'm actually in a good place today, and in general things are fairly calm. My classes have been breezy this week, a combination of the Bac practice tests and a few classes out on internships. The only downfall is the boredom which is starting to take its toll. I need to give this computer a break, but without it I'm not sure what I'd do. I actually have a few books to read, but the ones that are novels are in French and the ones in English are serious reads and I think I'm in the mood for something, I don't know, different than that. Maybe Gone with the Wind meets Pride and Prejudice? I'm not sure what I'm in the mood for. What I should be doing, actually, is delving into some of the philosophy articles/books I have here. I know that once started I'll get into it, but something is holding me back. I think it's this whole waiting to hear back from schools thing. I'm afraid to get back into it only to get shut out from that world. I realize that even if I don't go to philo grad school I can still do philosophy on my own, but for right now it's hard to get into it knowing that I'll love it and may be setting myself up for more heartache if I don't get accepted anywhere. So we'll see. I think I just need to do it anyways. After all, I'm applying because I love it, so why not do what I love to help with this waiting game. But that would make too much sense.
In other news, tomorrow is momma's birthday! The big 5-0.... yes it's online, there's no denying it. I'm sorry I'm not there for it, but I love you!!! Watch some of that OC for me.
Oh and before I forget, this week I went to the circus with Irene. It was crazy. We were also the only people over 5 feet tall not accompanied by someone under 3 feet tall. Oh well. The ringmaster was frighteningly similar to Sarkozy in both appearance and demeanor. I wonder if that says something? The highlight was the lions and the tiger. Yes I realize they should be in the wild, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't neat to see them. Sarkozy doubled as the lion tamer as well, and his routine reminded me of how I play with Lexi (our dog at home). I think he called one of the lions Nala (my alt name for Lexi). Sigh. Also, the circus was run by one family who all changed costumes and pretended to be different people. It was rather funny, though the clowns weren't. One of the kid from the circus family was running about everyone and even ran across the ring. Good times. Being surrounded by some many little cute kids almost stirred some maternal instincts in me. Almost.
One last story for you all. I've realized this year that living in a foreign country has generally decreased my coolness (if ever I had any). By this I mean, every single day I embarrass myself. Not that that didn't happen in the States, but the frequency here is astonishing. Part of it is the dangerous mix of a new language and culture, but another part is that I just seem to be the biggest dork ever when placed in a country that is renowned for grace and poise and culture, etc. I have none of those. Things just don't go smoothly for me. Let's take today for example. I went to swim practice and got my butt kicked by the workout, which is generally a good thing. Normally when I finish I'm the last person to realize that practice time is up and we have to get out. The coach usually laughs and says, "Lin-say a la douche (to the shower)." So today I thought I'd be on top of things before being told to go home. I finished everything that was on the board, and the last bit was a 200 easy. The obvious conclusion to be drawn is that practice is done. So I take off my cap and start to gather my stuff. The coach looks and me and says, "Il reste 5 min Lin-say"...ugh. I thought he was joking, but then I realized that he was totally serious, and he went onto to tell me to do a 200 kick (pointless really). So all the lil kids waiting for their practice laugh as I put my cap back on and start the kick set. The problem was that the last 25 of the 200 was supposed to be all out kick. For me, it was all out flutter kick, and that, naturally, produces quite a bit of splash. Now because I was kicking on my back, I was unable to see the swimmers who had to swim around me. As it turns out, the one cute guy my age that's on the team (is sometimes a coach for the little tykes) passed me while doing backstroke (not kicking, so obviously was going much faster). That would be fine except that I was apparently kicking up quite a storm. When I finished I looked over at him on the wall and he was coughing pretty badly. Not just one or two coughs, but was seriously dieing. I thought to myself, "Wow, I wonder what happened to him." That's when he looked over and laughed through his coughs saying something to the effect of, "You were kicking pretty hard." Zut alors! I was the cause of his lungs full of pool water. I replied with a look of shame coupled with a smile. Oh well. Happy Valentine's day cute guy on the team. I hope you liked your present.... (sigh)
I'm actually in a good place today, and in general things are fairly calm. My classes have been breezy this week, a combination of the Bac practice tests and a few classes out on internships. The only downfall is the boredom which is starting to take its toll. I need to give this computer a break, but without it I'm not sure what I'd do. I actually have a few books to read, but the ones that are novels are in French and the ones in English are serious reads and I think I'm in the mood for something, I don't know, different than that. Maybe Gone with the Wind meets Pride and Prejudice? I'm not sure what I'm in the mood for. What I should be doing, actually, is delving into some of the philosophy articles/books I have here. I know that once started I'll get into it, but something is holding me back. I think it's this whole waiting to hear back from schools thing. I'm afraid to get back into it only to get shut out from that world. I realize that even if I don't go to philo grad school I can still do philosophy on my own, but for right now it's hard to get into it knowing that I'll love it and may be setting myself up for more heartache if I don't get accepted anywhere. So we'll see. I think I just need to do it anyways. After all, I'm applying because I love it, so why not do what I love to help with this waiting game. But that would make too much sense.
In other news, tomorrow is momma's birthday! The big 5-0.... yes it's online, there's no denying it. I'm sorry I'm not there for it, but I love you!!! Watch some of that OC for me.
Oh and before I forget, this week I went to the circus with Irene. It was crazy. We were also the only people over 5 feet tall not accompanied by someone under 3 feet tall. Oh well. The ringmaster was frighteningly similar to Sarkozy in both appearance and demeanor. I wonder if that says something? The highlight was the lions and the tiger. Yes I realize they should be in the wild, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't neat to see them. Sarkozy doubled as the lion tamer as well, and his routine reminded me of how I play with Lexi (our dog at home). I think he called one of the lions Nala (my alt name for Lexi). Sigh. Also, the circus was run by one family who all changed costumes and pretended to be different people. It was rather funny, though the clowns weren't. One of the kid from the circus family was running about everyone and even ran across the ring. Good times. Being surrounded by some many little cute kids almost stirred some maternal instincts in me. Almost.
One last story for you all. I've realized this year that living in a foreign country has generally decreased my coolness (if ever I had any). By this I mean, every single day I embarrass myself. Not that that didn't happen in the States, but the frequency here is astonishing. Part of it is the dangerous mix of a new language and culture, but another part is that I just seem to be the biggest dork ever when placed in a country that is renowned for grace and poise and culture, etc. I have none of those. Things just don't go smoothly for me. Let's take today for example. I went to swim practice and got my butt kicked by the workout, which is generally a good thing. Normally when I finish I'm the last person to realize that practice time is up and we have to get out. The coach usually laughs and says, "Lin-say a la douche (to the shower)." So today I thought I'd be on top of things before being told to go home. I finished everything that was on the board, and the last bit was a 200 easy. The obvious conclusion to be drawn is that practice is done. So I take off my cap and start to gather my stuff. The coach looks and me and says, "Il reste 5 min Lin-say"...ugh. I thought he was joking, but then I realized that he was totally serious, and he went onto to tell me to do a 200 kick (pointless really). So all the lil kids waiting for their practice laugh as I put my cap back on and start the kick set. The problem was that the last 25 of the 200 was supposed to be all out kick. For me, it was all out flutter kick, and that, naturally, produces quite a bit of splash. Now because I was kicking on my back, I was unable to see the swimmers who had to swim around me. As it turns out, the one cute guy my age that's on the team (is sometimes a coach for the little tykes) passed me while doing backstroke (not kicking, so obviously was going much faster). That would be fine except that I was apparently kicking up quite a storm. When I finished I looked over at him on the wall and he was coughing pretty badly. Not just one or two coughs, but was seriously dieing. I thought to myself, "Wow, I wonder what happened to him." That's when he looked over and laughed through his coughs saying something to the effect of, "You were kicking pretty hard." Zut alors! I was the cause of his lungs full of pool water. I replied with a look of shame coupled with a smile. Oh well. Happy Valentine's day cute guy on the team. I hope you liked your present.... (sigh)
Monday, February 11, 2008
Downtime
I can't bring myself to blog about teaching just yet, because I only have one week until Feburary break (2 weeks long!), 
and I'm trying make this week feel like the start of vacation even if I still have a few days to go. Now before all the naysayers complain that I don't need a vacation because I only work 12 hours a week as it is, let me tell you that the past few weeks have been anything but relaxing. Work has been rough, mainly because I'm at a loss with some of my classes. Even the classes I like are getting tricky because of the teachers I work with. Add on top of that some assistant drama and waiting anxiously everyday to hear back from schools... and, well, I need this break to keep my sanity in tact.
Thankfully God is doing what He can to keep me from going nuts. Not only do I have some amazing friends here, but recently I've had some downtime to chill me out. Last Friday the rainy/windy/miserable weather changed from to warm/sunny/amazing.
It was perfect outside, about 50F and more sun than I thought possible for Avranches. I was upset that such a lovely day had to fall on a Friday, the day I work almost half of my hours for the week (5-6). Luckily during my hour break in the afternoon I ran into some of the other assistants preparing for a picnic, so I was able to join them for some sun-basking, bagette with bourson and salmon-eating goodness before it was back to the yearbook projects. It may be Feburary, but for a bit it really felt like summer.
Yesterday Rachel and I had another picnic, this time in the parc sportif. We popped into a boulangerie and got some jambon fromage sandwiches and few pastries.
The parc sportif is a 5 min walk from the lycee, but you wouldn't know it from looking around the parc. The parc is literally surrounded by farms, and on the way to the parc you pass a good number of cows and sheep. It's like walking into the past. The houses and farms look just as I would imagine they did over a hundred years ago. For all of our complaints that Avranches is too small, there is an advantage to living in the country. It really is lovely to be in such a calm, green space. Rach and I spread out a blanket and laid in the sun, secretly hoping to get a slight tan. The sun's warmth put us to sleep and we soaked in the moment of peace. We ate and chatted and stared at the Mont St Michel in the distance. Then we busted out some books and read for a bit (I'm reading my second Irene Nemirovsky book, the first being
Suite Francaise which I highly recommend, for this book I have the french version because I'm feeling ambitious). I've never felt more relaxed.
The weather is gorgeous, and the landscape is even better. It's days like this that I will miss the most when I leave. Sigh.
and I'm trying make this week feel like the start of vacation even if I still have a few days to go. Now before all the naysayers complain that I don't need a vacation because I only work 12 hours a week as it is, let me tell you that the past few weeks have been anything but relaxing. Work has been rough, mainly because I'm at a loss with some of my classes. Even the classes I like are getting tricky because of the teachers I work with. Add on top of that some assistant drama and waiting anxiously everyday to hear back from schools... and, well, I need this break to keep my sanity in tact.Thankfully God is doing what He can to keep me from going nuts. Not only do I have some amazing friends here, but recently I've had some downtime to chill me out. Last Friday the rainy/windy/miserable weather changed from to warm/sunny/amazing.
It was perfect outside, about 50F and more sun than I thought possible for Avranches. I was upset that such a lovely day had to fall on a Friday, the day I work almost half of my hours for the week (5-6). Luckily during my hour break in the afternoon I ran into some of the other assistants preparing for a picnic, so I was able to join them for some sun-basking, bagette with bourson and salmon-eating goodness before it was back to the yearbook projects. It may be Feburary, but for a bit it really felt like summer.Yesterday Rachel and I had another picnic, this time in the parc sportif. We popped into a boulangerie and got some jambon fromage sandwiches and few pastries.
The parc sportif is a 5 min walk from the lycee, but you wouldn't know it from looking around the parc. The parc is literally surrounded by farms, and on the way to the parc you pass a good number of cows and sheep. It's like walking into the past. The houses and farms look just as I would imagine they did over a hundred years ago. For all of our complaints that Avranches is too small, there is an advantage to living in the country. It really is lovely to be in such a calm, green space. Rach and I spread out a blanket and laid in the sun, secretly hoping to get a slight tan. The sun's warmth put us to sleep and we soaked in the moment of peace. We ate and chatted and stared at the Mont St Michel in the distance. Then we busted out some books and read for a bit (I'm reading my second Irene Nemirovsky book, the first being
Suite Francaise which I highly recommend, for this book I have the french version because I'm feeling ambitious). I've never felt more relaxed.The weather is gorgeous, and the landscape is even better. It's days like this that I will miss the most when I leave. Sigh.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
It gets harder and harder to think of a title for these things...
As much as I know you've all enjoyed my lovely travel posts, I'm afraid to inform you that the next few will be quite mundane. This one is about the obnoxiousness that is France and the French. The next will be about why they shouldn't allow me to teach. So here it goes.
First, let me say that I still haven't figured out how to hand wash my clothes. It seemed relatively self-explanatory: fill tub, add soap, add clothes, rinse clothes, dry clothes. Right? No, this simple procedure does not, surprisingly, clean a bloody thing. This time I was doing a massive load of darks, and I thought to myself, "Well, I'll just pretend like this is a washing machine and I'll do whatever a washing machine would do." So I filled the tub with warm water and added soap. Then I threw the clothes in and (quite ridiculously) tried to make my own agitation (and then spin) cycle. I looked funny, and I got tired, but my clean my clothes were not. Ugh. Spin cycle number two, add the shower head sprayer for good measure. No good? Drain the soapy water out, refill with clean water, and spin some more. Drain for the final time and .... failure. The clothes were kind of sort of clean, but secretly I knew that the alcohol spilled on me at the Cuban/Brazilian club(s) in Rennes was not coming out of my shirts (this is a whole story in itself, let's just say that Irene wanted to dance --latin style-- and old french men in latin clubs are even more creepy than regular creepy french men in regular bars...sigh). Whatever, I suck at life. Just hang them up and forget it. In a few months, when I come home to the land of decent washing machines, my clothes will get cleaned up nicely. Perhaps I just need to invest in an old school washboard until then?
After washing my clothes, it was time to give our bathroom a scrub down. Washing darks leaves some nasty dye in the tub. So I sprayed some bleach and started scrubbing. Within seconds of spraying the cleaner, I suddenly had the urge to go swimming. Why was that? I haven't gone in over 2 weeks (oops). Bleach. The smell of bleach reminds me of chlorine, and chlorine reminds me of pools, and pools make me want to get my butt kicked at swim practice. Well needless to say I went to practice today, and the coach told me that he thought I'd left or something. Nooo I was just busy, so much work, you understand... Anyway, we swam 4000 meters, wow. It felt so good. It was a long practice, we usually only do around 2500, so this kicked my butt, in a good way!
Speaking of domestic chores, I am learning to cook. Slowly but surely, I am learning the culinary arts from the master, Miss Rachel. If you know me, then you know how inept I am at such a simple task. Part of my inadequacy stems from my extreme pickiness when it comes to food. If it's green, I probably don't like it. There are reasons I could never be a vegetarian. Anyway, Rachel always makes stuff that smells amazing, even if it is veggies, so we've decided that I must learn. My first lesson came when Dana was here. We made salmon (lemon flavored, yum) and my new favorite dish-- fried potatoes and onions. Okay it's not that hard, you boil some chopped potatoes, fry them, add some onions and garlic, and voila! But here's the funny part: I used to think I hated onions. Not so my friends, I love them now, at least I love them fried with potatoes and garlic. While cooking this stuff I cut an onion for the very first time in my life (probably a first on the potatoes as well). Isn't that a tad bit sad? Well, progress is progress. Rachel also bought me a french cookbook and we're going to pick a meal out before Saturday so we can get all the ingredients at the farmers market. I vote for something with spinach (a green plant I happen to like). I'll keep you posted.
So hand-washing clothes and cooking may not be my strong suits, but I'm young and I have time to learn. What I won't ever learn, however, is how to be polite to stupid french handymen that let themselves into my apartment. So the other day I was in bed and I heard the doorbell ring. Nope, not getting up. I don't care who it is, I want a lie-in. Cue the noise of keys and the door opening. That's strange, Rach is supposed to be in Sartilly all day. Cue man's voice. Crap. Scramble out of bed. What to do? I have time to either throw on some jeans and pull my hair in a pony tail OR throw the clothes piled high around my room into the wardrobe. Umm. Oh well, you hesitated too long, and now you have time for neither. Crap, okay go confront man with pjs on and bedhair. It's too early for french (before 10am when I don't have class until 2pm, much too early), and I don't understand a word. Ummm what? Can you repetay that see voo play? Yeah thanks, okay, so you want some shelves do you? Let's see here, oh you want these weird half table things that you stored in my room and that we turned into storage units in the living room. Here let me move that garbage bag and half dead plant, there you go. Take it, we didn't want it anyway. Oh you don't want it? You want it on the wall of my bedroom...um okay. Why? No reason, I didn't think so. Fine hang it... um (kick some clothes aside, pull a 1664 poster down) here. Okay where are the other shelves? Um I have no bloody clue. You tell me. Fine go look in Rach's room, but I warn you, she won't be happy about it (her's being in a sorrier state than my own). There they are, full of stuff no less. Puzzled look from man. Well what did you expect? You come early in the morning with no warning (a note earlier would have been nice). Yes I realize this is not your choice, you march to orders from on high, we're all victims in this crazy game, but could you just come back later, yeah? Thanks. Rach comes back, aghast that she must now figure out where in her room the unwanted shelves can hang (after cleaning them off of course). We hear a door open and heavy footsteps. No knocking this time? No bell? Just come right in, we weren't naked or anything. Not that you'd care. Grrr. Whatever, just hang the bloody shelves and go away. Why must you bother us?? Yes I'm being dramatic, but in the dull city of Avranches, even the smallest events seem quite important. Don't judge me.
Speaking of not being informed ahead of time, you'll never guess what happened to Rach and Kate at the elementary school. The other day a woman came by with a young gendarme (police man, but sort of in the army branch). She announced to the surprised girls that he was actually moving in, right now. Oh, lovely. That's not strange or anything. We don't mind finding out, well, the day of. Not a problem. As it turns out, Cedric, the already balding but still nice chap of 26, is not that bad, though he's developed quite the crush on Irish Rach. She brings it on herself though (she made him bring out his hats for her to try on, if that doesn't make a man swoon, I don't know what will). He hangs out with us now, and it's only a little awkward (mainly when Rach has had a bit too much to boire and he goes all gaga over her --awkward but really funny, you can't buy entertainment like this). And yesterday a new gendarme showed up. I guess he's moving in too (quite the party). He's younger (22), but like Cedric he's prematurely balding. Maybe it's a hazard of the profession? Pierre-Yves, the newbie, is nice but shyer than Cedric. Unfortunately neither turned out to be potential french petit-amis for any of us (for various reasons), but oh well. We're not into the law enforcement types anyway. At least they're under 40 and over 18. That works for now, we can hang out at the Liberties now and not get approached by freaks or my students (yeah, I've been running into my students and they either want me to buy them drinks or want me to give them my flatmate's number, get a life folks, you're in high school). But still, a little warning would have been nice. The guys could have been psychos or something. I guess a gendarme is better than a regular bloke (as far as safety goes). Whatever. The French could care less. We are, after all, mere assistants.
What am I doing right now? Eating nutella from the jar to curve a chocolate craving, and trying to not freak out about schools. I just finished watching mtv's True Life: I'm having an arranged marriage. I'm not going to lie, some days, I don't think that's a bad idea. Ha! Just kidding. I think. Eventually I need to file my taxes, but I'd rather watch True Life: I'm in anger management. Maybe I should read a book....
Okay that's all for now. Must get back to the new dart board (I'm going to get good at this, I swear). Enjoy the snow Wisconsinites.
Next up: teaching issues. Get ready for it.
First, let me say that I still haven't figured out how to hand wash my clothes. It seemed relatively self-explanatory: fill tub, add soap, add clothes, rinse clothes, dry clothes. Right? No, this simple procedure does not, surprisingly, clean a bloody thing. This time I was doing a massive load of darks, and I thought to myself, "Well, I'll just pretend like this is a washing machine and I'll do whatever a washing machine would do." So I filled the tub with warm water and added soap. Then I threw the clothes in and (quite ridiculously) tried to make my own agitation (and then spin) cycle. I looked funny, and I got tired, but my clean my clothes were not. Ugh. Spin cycle number two, add the shower head sprayer for good measure. No good? Drain the soapy water out, refill with clean water, and spin some more. Drain for the final time and .... failure. The clothes were kind of sort of clean, but secretly I knew that the alcohol spilled on me at the Cuban/Brazilian club(s) in Rennes was not coming out of my shirts (this is a whole story in itself, let's just say that Irene wanted to dance --latin style-- and old french men in latin clubs are even more creepy than regular creepy french men in regular bars...sigh). Whatever, I suck at life. Just hang them up and forget it. In a few months, when I come home to the land of decent washing machines, my clothes will get cleaned up nicely. Perhaps I just need to invest in an old school washboard until then?
After washing my clothes, it was time to give our bathroom a scrub down. Washing darks leaves some nasty dye in the tub. So I sprayed some bleach and started scrubbing. Within seconds of spraying the cleaner, I suddenly had the urge to go swimming. Why was that? I haven't gone in over 2 weeks (oops). Bleach. The smell of bleach reminds me of chlorine, and chlorine reminds me of pools, and pools make me want to get my butt kicked at swim practice. Well needless to say I went to practice today, and the coach told me that he thought I'd left or something. Nooo I was just busy, so much work, you understand... Anyway, we swam 4000 meters, wow. It felt so good. It was a long practice, we usually only do around 2500, so this kicked my butt, in a good way!
Speaking of domestic chores, I am learning to cook. Slowly but surely, I am learning the culinary arts from the master, Miss Rachel. If you know me, then you know how inept I am at such a simple task. Part of my inadequacy stems from my extreme pickiness when it comes to food. If it's green, I probably don't like it. There are reasons I could never be a vegetarian. Anyway, Rachel always makes stuff that smells amazing, even if it is veggies, so we've decided that I must learn. My first lesson came when Dana was here. We made salmon (lemon flavored, yum) and my new favorite dish-- fried potatoes and onions. Okay it's not that hard, you boil some chopped potatoes, fry them, add some onions and garlic, and voila! But here's the funny part: I used to think I hated onions. Not so my friends, I love them now, at least I love them fried with potatoes and garlic. While cooking this stuff I cut an onion for the very first time in my life (probably a first on the potatoes as well). Isn't that a tad bit sad? Well, progress is progress. Rachel also bought me a french cookbook and we're going to pick a meal out before Saturday so we can get all the ingredients at the farmers market. I vote for something with spinach (a green plant I happen to like). I'll keep you posted.
So hand-washing clothes and cooking may not be my strong suits, but I'm young and I have time to learn. What I won't ever learn, however, is how to be polite to stupid french handymen that let themselves into my apartment. So the other day I was in bed and I heard the doorbell ring. Nope, not getting up. I don't care who it is, I want a lie-in. Cue the noise of keys and the door opening. That's strange, Rach is supposed to be in Sartilly all day. Cue man's voice. Crap. Scramble out of bed. What to do? I have time to either throw on some jeans and pull my hair in a pony tail OR throw the clothes piled high around my room into the wardrobe. Umm. Oh well, you hesitated too long, and now you have time for neither. Crap, okay go confront man with pjs on and bedhair. It's too early for french (before 10am when I don't have class until 2pm, much too early), and I don't understand a word. Ummm what? Can you repetay that see voo play? Yeah thanks, okay, so you want some shelves do you? Let's see here, oh you want these weird half table things that you stored in my room and that we turned into storage units in the living room. Here let me move that garbage bag and half dead plant, there you go. Take it, we didn't want it anyway. Oh you don't want it? You want it on the wall of my bedroom...um okay. Why? No reason, I didn't think so. Fine hang it... um (kick some clothes aside, pull a 1664 poster down) here. Okay where are the other shelves? Um I have no bloody clue. You tell me. Fine go look in Rach's room, but I warn you, she won't be happy about it (her's being in a sorrier state than my own). There they are, full of stuff no less. Puzzled look from man. Well what did you expect? You come early in the morning with no warning (a note earlier would have been nice). Yes I realize this is not your choice, you march to orders from on high, we're all victims in this crazy game, but could you just come back later, yeah? Thanks. Rach comes back, aghast that she must now figure out where in her room the unwanted shelves can hang (after cleaning them off of course). We hear a door open and heavy footsteps. No knocking this time? No bell? Just come right in, we weren't naked or anything. Not that you'd care. Grrr. Whatever, just hang the bloody shelves and go away. Why must you bother us?? Yes I'm being dramatic, but in the dull city of Avranches, even the smallest events seem quite important. Don't judge me.
Speaking of not being informed ahead of time, you'll never guess what happened to Rach and Kate at the elementary school. The other day a woman came by with a young gendarme (police man, but sort of in the army branch). She announced to the surprised girls that he was actually moving in, right now. Oh, lovely. That's not strange or anything. We don't mind finding out, well, the day of. Not a problem. As it turns out, Cedric, the already balding but still nice chap of 26, is not that bad, though he's developed quite the crush on Irish Rach. She brings it on herself though (she made him bring out his hats for her to try on, if that doesn't make a man swoon, I don't know what will). He hangs out with us now, and it's only a little awkward (mainly when Rach has had a bit too much to boire and he goes all gaga over her --awkward but really funny, you can't buy entertainment like this). And yesterday a new gendarme showed up. I guess he's moving in too (quite the party). He's younger (22), but like Cedric he's prematurely balding. Maybe it's a hazard of the profession? Pierre-Yves, the newbie, is nice but shyer than Cedric. Unfortunately neither turned out to be potential french petit-amis for any of us (for various reasons), but oh well. We're not into the law enforcement types anyway. At least they're under 40 and over 18. That works for now, we can hang out at the Liberties now and not get approached by freaks or my students (yeah, I've been running into my students and they either want me to buy them drinks or want me to give them my flatmate's number, get a life folks, you're in high school). But still, a little warning would have been nice. The guys could have been psychos or something. I guess a gendarme is better than a regular bloke (as far as safety goes). Whatever. The French could care less. We are, after all, mere assistants.
What am I doing right now? Eating nutella from the jar to curve a chocolate craving, and trying to not freak out about schools. I just finished watching mtv's True Life: I'm having an arranged marriage. I'm not going to lie, some days, I don't think that's a bad idea. Ha! Just kidding. I think. Eventually I need to file my taxes, but I'd rather watch True Life: I'm in anger management. Maybe I should read a book....
Okay that's all for now. Must get back to the new dart board (I'm going to get good at this, I swear). Enjoy the snow Wisconsinites.
Next up: teaching issues. Get ready for it.
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