Friday, April 30, 2004
You know when first the first thing you do in writing is to confuse "hard up" with "hard on;" your day is only going to go in a downward spiral toward the gutter.
I am currently lusting, hypothesizing and now dreaming (which is something serious cause I never dream of guys, let alone remember it) for someone plausibly inappropriate; without a single effing clue as to why. Alternately I am also giggling at photos of him on the web. I swear there are some days I really do think I am 30 going on 13. At least I wake up with a smile, which if you have ever woken me up you would know is one hell of a feat.
I need help. Not that you didnt already know that but hey why not say it one more time.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Oh Mi God. Alert the trade authorities- an import ban on all hair gel for Italy must immediately go into effect. It is one thing to constantly walk aroud with the high maintenance people (dear GOD are they high maintenance) but the hair doos. Oh no these they defy my Parisian experiences with Pebbles and the 2ft high rat nest ponytail.
Please tell me you do not intentionally do that to yourself. Please tell me that reverse mohawk with curls and bleached edges was not what you asked the stylist for. Please oh please tell me that you didnt take two hours and three bottles of gel to do that! Please oh please just tell me you are running to go home and wash that shit, cause it is sooo scaring me.
The Italians have a word for this Figate- all Armani'd up and pouncing around like a poofy "man." Yeah the guy who is obvioulsy Mediterranean and has decided blonde hair suits him, that is who I want. That is at least what the guy at the bar last night thought. That and saying "hillo" was going to just melt me. I am talking in Italian and you are saying "hillo, hillo."
The scariest thing by far though has to be today. Walking to uni this morning I saw the high maintenance couple- I mean armani, fake and bake, plastic hair, spackle make up for both of them and oh god the gel (seriously they should get an award) with a 11 month old who was just as high maintenance and... Wait for it..... had died hair. WTF?? And all of you thought I was in the world of hot people. Think again my friends. Think again.
Hold Me. Please.
Be a horny ass huge pigeon on the window across from mine and send out a mating call (coooo cooooooooo cooooooooooooo) to the tri state area, for about an hour. It is not sexy; I am not turned on. It is 5:17 am and all I want for Christmas is a bb gun to play Elmer Fudd and hunt your ass down.
Ok so the transition from Paris to Siena has not been exactly with out its grumpy moments and I am obviously not a morning person. I will transition out of this once I go get more red wine in my system, and hey positive day the exchange rate is going down!
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Well I made it out of Paris after eating my last tartlette citron, no crying on the train (but I was close) and not stepping in any dog shit. Amazing non? I know I want to move back and live in Paris again. However, I am now in Italy and this is the first day of a girl who really does wish she weren’t so damn jittery.
This latest move makes Dante’s inferno look like a play date at McDonalds, and they have one here- WTF?? A few sweaters, a few shoes, some books and you have a shit load of bricks! I am not a good nomad; I am the worst nomad. Ever. I curse my things repeatedly. I don’t care, next time I am putting my shit in a car and driving.
I "slept" my way to Italy, or not. I couldn’t sleep in the couchette for my life. I am running on generously 3 hours of very light sleep. I was awake from 4 am when the train stopped for Bologna.
Since arriving I met two of the sweetest Italian men in my life. Not only did they help me carry the suitcase that is up to my ribcage and has a fecking cadaver in it (or at least feels like it), but when there wasn’t a left luggage room at that station they drove me into town to the one at the main station.
Dropped the big bag in Florence and got on the bus with the rest of my heavy shit to drive over the Arno into the Tuscan countryside. I love the Arno and le ponte. I am always happiest when by a body of water. I wish I were staying in Florence to be honest.
Now me and my stinky self- and I do mean the lift the arm and clear the room, I been moving heavy shit and stuck in a muggy couchette for 12 hours without changing clothes kind of icky (go stuff your "European smell" comments too mkay); made our way past more posters with Berlusconi’s face plastered on them than I needed to see in my entire life. I know, I am in the wrong country… oh well. I can laugh when someone defaces them with a Hitler mustache right?
Saw crazy moped central; so many, no fear and amazingly all with helmets. It’s always been a dream of mine to ride a Vespa in Italy and say “Ciao” to people; however not in Florence. Driving mopeds in Italy is not for the faint of heart.
Must have fallen asleep for about 20 minutes cause next thing I knew I was here. The sweetest girl offered to help me locate my apartment, turned out she was in the same facolta and lived by me. Quite luckily as dippy the shit stick here did not remember to take her map out of the huge ass luggage before she left. Merde! Oops… Merda!
After hiding my belongings, that I am still cursing in 5 different languages, in a huge ass fuse box, I went to find the facolta. Turned out to be a 5 minute walk; turns out too that I was not late for class this morning, there was no class. Welcome to Italy; you thought disorganization was bad in Paris, think again!
It took a turn for the worse. I seriously arrived at the International House of Slobs. I walked into the flat and it was capital F-I-L-T-H-Y. I am not fastidious by any means; I can put up with a lot, but this is SHITTY. Mess is one thing, dirt and filth is another. It was so bad I actually had to clean it before I put my things away. Turns out we are not all in one apartment like I was told we are split between two- which means I won’t be living with Virginia :( And the four other people in my apartment are three males and one female, two Spaniards and two Turks, and all of them smokers. Yeah for headaches!
I am actually pissed; I don’t like these kinds of surprises. I am being charged for a week of rent that I wasnt here and I was not informed when making my decision I would be rooming with males. I have no problem rooming with them, but someone should have told me in advance. All I ask is to know. I thought of moving, but moving my shit one more time, even within the city, sounds so appealing I might hurl myself viciously off a cliff towards an impaling spork, and a reslutingly slow death accompanied by a horde of flesh eating flies.
I sat through 2 hours of Italian lecture on contemporary Italian politics. Understood more than I expected; there might be hope after all. Even though it felt like my head was seriously going to esplodere, there was no grey matter flying at the walls so I am thrilled. Well see if there is ever class again though. It is Italy- you never know.
After class I went to the library to use the internet. Only in Italy do you find a church as a university library- pulpit and all. Sitting there on the internet under all these religious symbols was odd. I wrote email with a picture of Jesus on a cross dripping blood over me… like god is trying to tell me something? The only thing I am thinking is why the fuck is the internet connection so slow if I am in god’s house?? Some kind of god that makes me wait on a fecking 16K modem with computers that have NO USB ports! Come on, can’t god upgrade his house with a new computer to DSL or Cable??
After my lovely religious experience worshiping at the alter of the internet; me and my ravenous self, who hadn’t eaten a thing today, needed to get some food in me belly! Mission accepted; goal to find me some good, cheap, fast Italian food. It took me an hour to find a pizzeria that had pizza that did not look like it was made by my grade school cafeteria lady- WTF?? I have a distinct aversion to eating pizza alla Midge that comes in squares cooked hours ago. Call me a psychological nut but pizza al taglio to me means a pie shaped wedge. I finally found it- pretty damn good, and some average gelato- will keep searching. I came home after about an hour and a half of wandering and stopping at an expensive 7-11 type store to get some juices, milk and water.
Came home and met the other roommates, they seem nice so I will try to be positive. After a small respite of 15 minutes to put on a bit of blush in an attempt to look presentable, which didn’t work; I went upstairs to the girls flat. We went to some student party getting sincerely lost on the way there. I want a pedometer to see what I walk each day; might be interesting. The party had decent sangria, though pretty weak. I was on serious antisocial diva mode though. Communication not my skill, at all. Tired and must have looked like I had been put through the washing machine; I was rinsed out. Met this interesting gentleman, but with my lack of social skills and dragged ass face I most likely bored him to the point that he took his leave. That was my cue to take the long walk (i.e. getting lost route) home.
OH. MI. GOD. Can we please just say my ass? Forget the back, forget the shoulders, forget the legs, even forget the feet; I am now crippled by my ass. I have sensations in places I did not know existed and aches in places so random and painful I almost cry. Bruises will appear tomorrow. The dimples of my ass are so sensitive that if you touched them I swear I would horse kick you.
Got home, swaddled up in sheets cause holy fuck is it cold in my flat, did a little bit of reading to knock myself out, and that is how the first day ends. I made it half-way alive. I am trying to reserve snap judgments because of my current status, and I threw myself straight into the pot on the fire. Seems I don’t know any other way to live life. I guess I should just embrace my pyromaniac side and revel in it. Rather though I am hoping to go sleep like a rock.
Buona Sera a Tutti!!
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
What you want to know it too?? I know some of you have to want to know my secret. Yes I know you do. But then it wouldnt be a secret! I am a good secret keeper you know. Hmm the torn emotions... aww heck since I like you all so much and it is MY secret, I am going to share.
Never let it be said that when I do something that I do it half assed. If I am going to change one thing I might as well change it all. Make a decision quit thinking and go, that is my rule. Oh that and get it right.
Yes people, I am moving, what would my life be if it werent that of a random nomad?? That is right I finally got up the gumption and the bags are packed (holy fuck are they heavy). I bought the house, the digs are set up and I am on my way. I am starting to paint the new walls, choose what rooms will house which furniture, transform the garage into my "office" and get me some decorative touches that fit me.
The Rules Are:
If you want to know where in the world Stinkerbell is moving to and when she will have moved house; you will have to leave a comment with an email I can respond to. If you follow the rules and ask nice then I will send you the scoop.
On her last true day in Paris. Well if you are me you scramble around and then you go out with some of your really good friends when really you should be reading up for that first meeting with your thesis advisor at 10 am. Instead the girls and I went out for the evening had dinner at a Mexican restaurant and then since Betsy is so cute and the nice Sicilian waiter liked her do shots of tequila with soda in them. Dont ask me they were free and I am not going to complain. Shots yeah I can do them :)
I dont have much time as I must pack and try to get to bed at a reasonable hour (well relatively reasonable hour) so that I can pull shit out my ass. I am trying to get to the excited point but really I am jealous of those staying behind cause I just dont want to go. I resist change at all costs in all ways, and well most of today I thought I wanted to cry and be someone else. I am sure I will love Italy but right now I am going to miss Paris.
Oh well I am stuck being me and if I dont pack it wont be pretty. Night my dears.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
Mac got the socks!! Yeah, I love knitting socks and I love it when I see my knitted goods on someone else out there in the big wide world. I got a post and some publicity out of it too :) Maybe I should ride it for all I can and try to do a knit-a-thon this summer for some cash or stash?? Hmmm the ideas.
On another side note, I havent been posting, I have been going out and well I dont know. Mostly ignoring the two important things I need to do (Pack and Finish Paper) and whooping it up cause the exchange rate went down under 1.20 for the first time since I got here. Come on that means I can buy 2 pairs of pants, go out for 3 nights straight, get me a french book bag and not look at the bank account! God I feel so irresponsible :)
I know I say this all the time now, but I cant believe I am leaving Paris. I really am not ready to, dont want to either. It is hard because its not like I dont want to go to Italy, I do. Just not yet!
Anyways last night we went out with Mr. FRENCH. and when I say that I mean he had the whole french superiority thing going ON. It wasnt in a bad way or in your face unrelenting but it was tres snob. You only drink the wine this way, god forbid you should want a beer with your cigar, only whisky etc. So we headed home early, got an offer to go out but I would have had to trek across town taxi it home for a second evening in a row and well I was yawning. I felt lame crashing in at about midnight, but three nights of 3 am arrivals means that I am one tired girl.
So go check out her blog and send her some birthday love- she liked my socks, as always say hi to Mac cause she's wearing my socks :), and come back cause the next post will most likely be my last Parisian post and it will have a little bit of a surprise in it.
Friday, April 16, 2004
Where have I been?? Me I have disappeared to enjoy my last few days in Paris. I have been playing tourist since I dont get a real vacation and I am spending time with people. Cause after all people are what is important. I dont know how many posts will go on in the transition but I do have a little secret up my sleeve and I promise to post about that before I leave.
But right now it is the days where where I run around like a chicken with my head cut off. Or not cause if you want a chicken here in Paris you CAN buy it with the head still on. Sounds appealing doesnt it?? I thought the purpose of buying a packaged chicken was that you didnt have to hack its head off. I was wrong. Look Ma all the things I learned in Paris while playing social anthropologist. I love that game :)
I am actually quite sad to be leaving right now, but I am not playing ostrich anymore. I cant afford to emotionally, physically or financially for that matter. Which by the way who ever said the nice prayers that made the Euro tip under 1.20 I LOVE YOU. Anyways, things are finally coming together and off and bouncing I go again. I am almost done with paper #2 which is the most important. I am tying up strings I should have done a LONG time ago. But they will get done. Ugh. And I am doing my best to prepare myself for the next step.
As much as I will miss it here, and I didnt get to near as much as I had wanted to, there are things I am grateful for in moving. It was winter, spring is much prettier, but I did better than I could have and less than what I wanted to. Kind of where I usually am. The weather in Italy should be gorgeous and if I can get past my financial freak outs then I will try to get ot see as much of the Tuscan countryside and beaches as I can. I am not grateful to change languages yet; tried using my Italian yesterday- I can still understand but getting anything out of my mouth was PAINFUL. However as much as living in a tiny tourist-y university city might just annoy me I have to say I am kind of glad to not be living in Paris in the summer. It is tourist hell. And they are already landing.
So in between walking everywhere, playing musuem tourist, doing taxes, writing my last ten pages, going out and spending money like crazy (must stop that!) I have taken time to play social anthropologist for one of the last times in Paris. I was walking down St. Germain des Pres yesterday and I heard some guy talking all authoritatively to the girl he was with while looking at a Map. He knew EVERYTHING; it was hysterical. And then after all of his know it all dance he made the following comments: Hey they have a Metro for Bastille, is that in Paris? I think we should go see the jail building, it is really famous you know. I shit you not people, you know me better than that.
Yes fuckwad you are why I am embarassed about Americans. Before all you huffy people jump and tell me that he could have been a British prat 1. usually most Europeans know things like that, 2. if he was Aussie, Kiwi or S. African I would have heard the accent and 3. Yes I know he was one, he talked like it and he was wearing a Ralph Lauren sweater with the American flag on it. Not hard to play spot the American in that outfit. First of all of course the Bastille WAS in Paris. However there is nothing really left there, see they were pissed and stormed the fucker in that 18th century french way. How were they supposed to know that one day it might have become a tourist attraction??
Me I am going to continue to go out, walk everywhere, soak in what I can and know in my heart that I will come back, if nothing to see the Bastille again.
Monday, April 12, 2004
Last time we checked in with our heroine she was experiencing her last days as a Parisian. She was sad about it, but has so many things to do that she wasnt taking the time to mourn yet. But what would those last days be with out a WHAT THE FUCK experience??
Yes one of those kinds of things that seems to only happen to our "special" heroine. Well Your heroine would never leave you stranded and today she made the pilgramage to Mecca for the most astounding of adventures. One that makes her shake her head wondering if a marble will fall out.
Our heroine, started her day thinking she would work on her paper. She and her partner in pushing left the apartment and realized that the WHOLE town was DEAD. Every thing was closed for the day after Easter. Who knew that was a holiday? Welcome to France, our heroine now knows this.
But we digress. We parted from the partner and walked my way to Mecca- Starbucks, or as the French say- le Starbook. Your heroine stays away from there most of the time cause 1. its lame, and 2. the muffins she loves are spensive! But today going to a regular cafe plonking down and opening a laptop would be more conspicuous that this superwoman felt hajj pilgarmage was acceptable.
Our heroine arrived at the Starbucks after getting lost and walking about 2 miles. She sat down at a table next to a chair with a jacket on it. One of thsoe nice plush chairs that she coveted. Finally 30 minutes later she finally asked Greekman if someone was sitting there? He said no, his jacket just liked having a chair.
So the heroine sat next to two of possibly the most annoying Americans that exist. They are the heavy texas accented kind (sorry if you are texan- I dont mean you) who live in France, bitch about French children being lazy until they are 25 and spend 3 hours talking about the Church REALLY LOUD. Our heroine learned that the french church only has money to pay pastors and not religious mentors, what being a missionary should really mean and many other inane things.
Greekman left after a while from what can only be assumed was a deep pull to sprok his eardrum to relieve himself. But your heroine scored a nice chair and she was stubborn and stayed trying focus. Cute Anglo-phone man sat down in his place. Your heroine Tink perked up when he seemed to be flirting with her. All was going well, she was playing coy and shy. Shifting aournd a bit and trying to be good at the same time getting abit of work done on her paper.
Then there comes the twist in the story. You knew there was one, otherwise it would not be a true WHAT THE FUCK moment. Well I have one for you and when your heroine asks does this happen to anyone else the answer is no Tink only you.
It seems as cute as Anglo-phone boy his idnetity as a freak in a coustme was to be revealed. Your sweet angelic heroine Tink has renewed her freak magnet, 10 months after she has some Italian freak dancing around yelling "AI Chihuha" making ears with his hands and trying to hump her leg like a chihuha, and freak number two tried to follow her into the bathroom to "help" her- with what she did not know, Anglo-phone boy decided to help out.
Yes your heronie looked up and saw Anglo-phone boy touching himself. Initially she thought he might be trying to adjust, but that adjusting looked more like light caresses. Then she thought he might be itching, but if he itches that much he has more crabs than Maine. Yes Your heroine was afronted with cute Anglo-phone boy covertly touching himself in public, and he was sooo doing it intentionally.
What is it about your heroine that draws this to her? She has no FUCKING clue. Why is it that the reasonably cute guy she would have flirted with, felt the need to go that one step further thinking she might leap over the coffee table and jump on she does not know either.
Only thing she does know- she will miss Paris and freak magnet definitely renewed.
Saturday, April 10, 2004
I feel like I am 3 years old and want to climb under my Abuela's skirt cause all the ladies in black at the train station were coming at me with intents on squeezing every last bit of oxygen out of me.
I have been trying to think of themes to create a template with for the blog. The blah is driving me nutso. So I thought: Hey Tink is bouncing around everywhere. She doesnt have any kind of geographical stability really. Why not play off the Where in the World is Waldo idea??
So I go to Google to try and find some images. This is what Google turned up. Row 2 third in, it is not for the easily frightened. I have no problem with you having your fetish but shite! I am looking up a kiddie cartoon/book.
As if that wasnt scary enough the lady has HUMONGOUS Ta-ta's. Women who have breasts that individually are larger than my head terrify me.
I want my Abuela!!!
Friday, April 09, 2004
My friend Jeff has to be one of the sweetest and funniest people on the face of the planet. He is "special." I am so lucky he is my friend. He amazes me in every way, just about every day. And today he has just melted me and LIT me up with a smile wider than the Luxembourg Gardens. When he knew I was feeling a bit in the dumps a few weeks ago, he sent me two books from Amazon.fr
Over the past three years he has seen all colors of me; amazingly he hasnt run, and this is a boy who can run a marathon. Hell he thought I was ok and he met me at probably one of the lowest points of my life. He is persistent and has many a delusional belief. He has the ability to see through lots of things. He is brilliantly multi-talented and quite creative. He has excellent problem solving skills (mostly the same solution applied to many situations). He has rushed to be there when I needed someone. He has been my MS products pimp. He is my favorite ride to the Opera (nice seats!!). He has the most unique way of saying hello/good morning. He is amazing and fun. He has provided me with some of my favorite wines and loves smelly cheeses. He has taken me out on "dates" and bought me yummy dinners when I was a bit down on luck. He is my favorite pyromaniac with a flame mobile. He has helped me move things and been my spatially aware friend. He watched me paint after I moved to my new place, when I had no clue what I was doing. He was my Lord of the Rings Movie bud. He answers my techno questions. He takes PHENOMENAL pictures. He is the only man I would probably let near me with an Ice Axe though why I am not sure as he is a bit obsessed with them. He has listened to more than one odd story of mine. Most important he makes me laugh hysterically like a hyena at times.
He is a bitch for travelling so many cool places in the short three years I have known him, but I get to go along in the pictures. He has got a heart of pure gold, and a dirty mind- just how I like it. More recently, he has put up with me over IM when I have been moody, emotional, grumpy, crazy, and down right crabby. And he still likes me. He makes me laugh, knocks some sense into me occassionally, gives things perspective, and he is even on occasion supportive. And he is ALL MINE!
And now that I have said all these things his head will never fit through the door, and I will never be able to forget them. Oh well I dont regret a bit of it.
Jeff Sweetheart: BZZZZZT Je t'adore!
After another day of doing nothing except for recovering from Sophie's birthday last night, and knitting on Foxy while watching the television. Really I am trying to get my arse together. Like any good previous legal person, I approach this as negotiating things with myself. I do this when I fall of the bandwagon. And this week I have fallen off big time. That first step back is always the hardest ya know?
When you have the sense of accomplishment and a lack of pressure or inclination towards the next goal, well for me it means I do nothing. Plus new students are coming in to Paris and people are doing things. I am always about putting peole and experiences first- they are what are really important. However, I also dont have the same plan as others. I am moving away. Add that to my ostrich backup method, usually deployed in response to my aversion to change and you get my past 3 days.
My bothersome professor extended the paper deadline; that helped put me back on track for my MA in procrastination. I am trying self-negotiation in a last ditch attempt to get myself back and rolling. Sometimes I feel like a pathetic 3 year old- if you buckle your seatbelt you can get a candy. But I have 1.22 papers to work on, and I need to finish packing up the last bit of my things. Actually I dont want to be doing any of it. I dont want to do anything I am pretty lethargic right now to be honest. Really I make a slug look energetic.
So I have made deals with myself and set out a means of achieving my "end of the bargain." Yeah I am schitzophrenic I talk to myself about myself what is your point Punk?? :) I did this with the last paper, but I had a bit of pressure and direction there- but in the end it worked. Now I get to start that all over again.
Foxy looks great in the Rowan Magazine, but the Phildar Licorne I am trialing with this top is not thrilling me. I am picky I am a perfectionist and I am a knitter. Not always a good combo. It is kind of coming out ok design wise at least and I really do love the red color of my Licorne. I will finish this tank and if I dont want it I will offer it up to anyone who wants it.
More importantly I need to get myself on track. I had issues with getting a train ticket, and so I am going to have one harsh transition to Italy. I am getting there at 8:30 in the morning and then I go to a 9am class on the same day. Switch like it is a light swithc?? Ugh. And to be honest I want all my writing, deadline extended or not, from Paris done when I plop my ass on the train to Italy. So I am making a deal with myself.
My treats you ask?? If I am a good girl between now and Sunday and finish up the BIG paper that I just need to flesh in 22% more (or approx 2000 words), I get to go and get me some more yarn . Once I get my smaller but nothing done on it paper going and most of the rest of my belongings packed up I get to go shopping at H&M, Zara and Naf Naf for 2 pants, a skirt and a top (hopefully on sale or inexpensively :) And once I finish that last paper, I can finally take a small 2-3 day excursion somewhere. I want to go to the south of France really bad. I dont know if plane prices will work with my budget since I am doing this last minute by the seat of my pants. If not I will search into something around Paris. Something to treat myself and give me a bit of renewal.
I am hoping I can make this all work. That I can incentivize my ass to get back into my pattern. I work much better when I make daily trips to the "office"/library. And I need to finish up even though I dont want to, cause time does not have a way of listening to me when I ignore its passing.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
I am really late to the game. I admit to not knowing how to trace my traffic and I just googled my blog. There isnt much there, but I was really surprised. It turns out way back in Dec of last year some really really Christian guy read my blog and commented about me.
What is it about me and religion recently?? I had made a post about going with a then friend into the black morass of rural Virginia to visit the 8th generation hicks. I dont do well with that whole rural thing; urban girl present and accounted for. If it works for you hey I am happy but not for me. I had commented with as much humor as I could about an experience that was well beyond anything I had ever seen in my Spanish based family culture. Some people misinterpreted my sarcasm; still that Thanksgiving will go down inthe memory books as one scary ass place and a part of the year of abysmal holidays; for more reasons than the religion issues.
I am amazed people would read anything I write so that someone read it and commented about it meant I was interested. I kept seeing all this god stuff. Every post was seriously about god, and that whole Southern Christian kind of god. You know the one who really scares me. He does not seem like a nice and loving god. He hath fury.
I have nothing against religion, what ever one it is you subscribe to. Learnings of Cathol I am happy they work for you; Athos sounds better, go atheism. My mother is the weak tea of born again Christian. She isnt all about church but she spouts things like "god does what is best for you and is benevolent." Not stuff I relate to or believe based off what I see. Me if I have to choose I am more in line with Buddhism, mostly because I am more interested in any "religion" as a way of life rather than anything to worship.
I feel no contempt for anyone who choses what ever religion and set of beliefs they do. That is a personal choice and I try never to pass judgement on it. That is between you and what or who ever you believe, and that is the way I think it should stay. Between a person, not for a government to be involved in. I also have my own and they havent changed no matter who has tried to tell me things.
I have friends of all persuations, mostly because the one thing I use to guide my life as much as I can is tolerance. But I have to say it is a bit terrifying to see myself referred to in a seriously christian blog. It is an interesting post, if you get a bit past the whole religion focus.
So here I am all talked about by the Christian Man. He seemed kinda ok but.... Why oh why am I scared?
This is what I do to myself when I am being unproductive and wasting my time. My name is Tink and I need HELP!
I am listening to Condoleeza Rice bullshit under pressure on CNN for the 9-11 committee. I dont know what I expected her do, maybe tell the truth. Go ahead call me a lunatic, not like I havent heard it before. Nope she is playing the cover my ass and create something that doesnt and never did exist game. Stiffling reality that is what she does. I expected that though, I hate being right. Condi cant answer a simple question with a simple answer. ANytime any response has 20 conditions and you take 5 minutes to answer a yes or no question that you have something to hide. Learn to listen to the question chica!
Why do I do these things to myself? I must really hate myself today for being a procrastinator again. Damn extention has screwed my committment to my pattern. Maybe my supreme aggitation will prompt my ass up and out to do those things I need to do. You know how rage can make you go all sorts of distances, how hearing excuses and blame avoidance and historical rewriting with false facts makes me want to invest every last penny I can secure into getting me close enough to shake the marbles out from in between Condi's two ears.
I need a spork. One so Condi can sit and twirl on it, and Two for me to gouge my eyes and bust an ear drums. I guess I can say that in two weeks I will be TV free so I wont have to watch this. I will miss my cable, I will be greatful for no Condi too.
I think Maureen Dowd has come up with the world's BEST idea. As she often does, she has hit it spot on. The article is brilliant, but that sales pitch she starts with is what I want!
"Maybe after high-definition TV, they'll invent high-dudgeon TV, a product so realistic you can just lunge through the screen and shake the Bush officials when they say something maddening about 9/11 or Iraq, or when they engage in some egregious bit of character assassination."
Where can I sign up to buy one?? Come on I'll go with out dinner cause I really really want one!
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Advance apologies for all the CAPS and bold but it is the only way I can express the importance I feel this issue ought to be accorded.
I am so utterly nauseated. I cant even begin to describe it. Words never fail me like when I try to express myself on this issue. I simply dont get the concept of killing someone because they are different. No matter what I try I cant wrap my head around that kind of hate. I know we all have a tendancy to become unnerved by things. You expose yourself to it enough and it ceases to impact you, you are numb to most things in the world. Especially when these atrocities arent in our faces, or something any of us or anyone we know has to deal with. Using all sorts of mechanisms to justify not opening your eyes.
But what I dont get is how at a geopolitical level, everyone but Americans in particular can consistently turn a blind eye to GENOCIDE. Saying with unwavering conviction while trying to establish crediblity each time "never again." This is a historical pattern. Often Americans knowing what is happening and doing nothing. This happened in WWII, it has happened in Cambodia, the break up of Yugoslavia, Africa and many other places.
GENOCIDE is a FUNDAMENTAL challenge to humans as a part of humanity. A challenge to each and every one of us. No matter who you are, what I feel about you, your actions or opinons, where you are or any other mitigating factor, there is one thing we have in common; We are BOTH human. Nothing and I do mean nothing can break that bond we all share.
There is this unstated international law that as long as you are only killing your own people, anyone from the outside shouldnt get involved. At least not till the morass created is so atrocious that you cant look away. Which really only means unless it is in "our" interest, or we are embarassed and dragged kicking and screaming, the US wants to put on horse blinders and plug its ears going LALALALALA. Stopping GENOCIDE is always in EVERY states interests.
In Africa it is callously justified as tribalism. These are religious wars and they are domestic affairs. My favorite excuse is that it has always happened , we cant change the ancient and centuries old traditions, and we should let the Africans settle it themselves. We should be ashamed!
Today marks the anniversary of the Rwandan GENOCIDE. When the rampant slaughters happened. All as a cause of someone being genetically different. Everyone says "never again" after every instance of GENOCIDE. However when things start happening no one wants to actually act. The Rwandan GENOCIDE was the most rapid GENOCIDE in world history; with almost 1 million dead in 100 days. The pictures of the skulls have haunted me and turned my stomach since I started reading the news on this atrocity over 9 years ago.
The world gets all caught up in the Middle East- not that there arent issues in the Middle East; there are issues everywhere. But GENOCIDE is happening again in Africa. Yes, Africa is one seriously screwed up place. I am not going to claim that have even near enough information to make an accurate analysis and policy report. But you dont need that; you need a small amount of compassion, a mouth and a big dollop of tolerance. It is common sense to KNOW that GENOCIDE is WRONG. Everyone should do something to stop it, with out regards for where it is happening. But we are IGNORING it. Like it isnt happening, reflecting on Rwanda attributing to the Rwandan cases happening to tribal differences, and explaining international inaction/indifference as a consequence of Somalia.
All the while it is sitting there under your nose. Like Ugandan rebels who dismember people viciously, like Sierra Lione rebels who are systematically raping women, like there arent in more countries than I want to name rebels giving 9 year olds guns and turning them into thugs. It is systematically happening AGAIN, and we can stop it. Sure it is overwhelming to look at the major problems of the world. Yes inevitably there is prioritization that will occur and horrid things will inevitably happen as a result of that. But GENOCIDE should NOT be at the bottom of the list!
That the situation in Dafur, Sudan gets minor attention here in Europe but near NOTHING in the US major news makes me more than pissed. I am aggrivated that what little does make its way into the mainstream news (such that everyone would know) is mostly pushed to a small endnote. GENOCIDE is happening, and the UN is saying it too. This is NOT a fucking endnote. Yes it is happening along ethnic lines. But that doesnt mean that we should ignore it, here is one case where preemptive strikes ARE justified.
On the US front, Good old George does nothing. He doesnt attend and show respect at the Rwandan event, that would be embarassing, and he doesnt say a thing about Sudan. How can he after the underminding of the UN his administration has waged. The UN really is the only organization that could deal with this, cause all would be damned before George would say the US should take care of anything that isnt related to terrorism. Besides which for George it is just Africa- there isnt anything of real strategic value there, like oil.
That opinon reflects a sincere lack of the value of a human life, of every human life; which I find ironic from Mr. Compassionate Conservative Pro-Life. Everyone ignores Africa as the screwed up colonial continent. America has said after Somalia on many occasions that the US will not only not get involved it will not support others trying to stop domestic African events. That 18 men died in Somalia is tragic, that one was dragged around town is appalling, the US ignoring GENOCIDE once again defies words for me. If our resolve isnt to waver in Iraq when civilians were hung off of bridges after being brutally murdered, then there is no longer an excuse for not going into places like Sudan and stopping GENOCIDE. It is not an easy thing, but that doesnt mean it should not be done.
This. This IS something to scream about. I might be a European specialist, but it doesnt mean I dont pay attention to the world. I am in international relations first. Yes I often feel unable to do anything about these issues that really are important but much larger than myself. But if one of you didnt know and is now reading about this and as appalled as I am I have done something and that is better than nothing.
My humble opinon says before we go about trying to improve what the best off have, maybe we ought to help out those who we left behind and trodded all over to get to where we are. Call me idealistic to think that if we solved some of these fundamental human value and rights issues that we just might be able to have a better world. And it doesnt always mean we need fancy weapons, however it also means we should use them when needed. It is our responsibility to humanity.
Dont forget this tragedy that happened or the one that is currently happening.
The past 3.5 years put my physical body and emotional health through hell. I am quite happily coming out the other end. 3.5 years ago, I went through the meat grinder. It was a NASTY breakup. Gave me a swirly like no school yard bully could. I lost 15 lbs in less than 2 weeks. With the mental case the NASTY ex pulled on me I went into a state of anxiety and my liver went wonky. I went on meds, which took another 5 lbs off me. But the meds had a rebound effect. They took me from 92lbs to 133lbs over the next 9 months. I normally weigh 108lbs. I was crabby about being too skinny. I was crabby about weighing more than I ever weighed before. I was crabby cause I couldnt work out and I was jiggly.
Crabbiness was reflected in how my pants fit. Sounds silly but anything that goes on my bottom half must often be altered in some way. If it fits at my waist then there is no hope for my quads. Should it fit my quads and waist- miracle of all miracles, it will be 2 ft. too long. When you feel like an encased sausage in your pants, it doesnt make you happy.
Over the past 3 years I have fluctuated up and down over 70 lbs- more than 60%my normal body weight. I carried it well but my clothes belied the issue. Along the way I bought things that fit at the time. I saved my "skinny" and skinnier" clothes for when I would fit them again. But I dont know where they are, or what I have coming to me.
Why is this important? Today I am crabby again. I am low on springy clothes (they are being shipped), and again my pants dont fit! This time it is good as they HANG on me, they have a waist to crotch ratio of a giraffe's neck. But of course has to be the one pair of pants I have that are remotely springy, and there is a chance that most of what is being shipped wont fit either.
I have spent years searching for an identity and style it avoids me like the plague. Packing up only serves to remind me that I really dont have a cohesive sense of style, or if I do it hasnt been packed. I constantly have the sense that I couldnt put together an outfit if I tried. I am bouncing around like a nomad with way more shit than ANY ONE needs, and I cant seem to figure out what to do about clothes. My pants dont fit and if things continue and I get closer to my "normal" weight, (about 7-8 more lbs) it is only going to get worse.
Oh well the grass is never green. Abuela always said dinner always looks better on someone elses plate. I guess I need to cut the food budget to find the money for new spring pants. That or eat more tartlettes :)
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
I just saw a piece on CNN World about "Gods Gym."
That place is effing scary, with their "Christian" atmosphere. I am glad for you if you are Christian and if you work out that is great too. This is not a hit on any religion. But having a work out gym established around the precept religion and only religion...
A Bible Bar for your power bar, getting smoothie in David or Goliath sizes and chariots of fire for a spinning class. In addition to the yoGod- cause yoga doesnt have its place there, classes... That is out. of. control. It is just like walking through the bible watching this, they have scriptures all over the walls and everything. It is a dimented bible with weights but still.
And people wonder why I am scared of organized religion??
I went over to Very Big Blog and found out that Sesame Street is 35 years old. It is hard to keep up with everything when you arent in the states. It is well established I have a great love for Jim Henson shows. I grew up addicted to the Muppets, Fraggle Rock and Sesame Street.
I have nothing but fond memories of waking up in the morning rushing to the TV and watching Sesame Street. I sang the C is for Cookie song so much that it gave my mother migranes. I also was a bit obsessed with the count song (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12). What are you looking at, like you didnt already know I was OBC.
But the best was a link to T is for Trivia. Holy schmoly G is for Grouch. I dont ever remember Oscar being that grouchy. I mean he is nasty, he makes me look all punchy and sunshiny. He freaking heckles you the whole way on through the timed test. I suck at this trivia crap and Oscar is so not helping. If I wasnt already a case he quite possibly could have given me a complex. I must also say that I am pretty sure this would scare little kids! I watched the show honest but the obscure questions they are asking...
Well Happy Birthday to my childhood memories with Sesame Street. Here is to many more for when I have kids.
I Am Traumatised:
I am being a bad girl. There was a deadline extended on the paper I was trying to finish this week. So I am being a bit lax. I really am going to try and push/drag my ass to get something done today. Honest. For now though I am being punished for it.
In my efforts to be completely useless and accomplish NOTHING today I just watched a music viedo, of Kylie and Robbie Williams. My eyes are shot; the retinas thoroughly seared. That was quite possibly one of the most terrifying train wrecks I have ever been "forced" to watch. I dont have a hope of getting the hideous images out of my mind, and I am not even going to talk about the noise. Therapy will not be enough. Good god that man is capital U-G-L-Y! I dont think I would ever be that desperate or have that bad of taste.
Good thing I was able to get away from it to watch cartoon network. Porky Pig in French sounds effing HYSTERICAL! And I got to watch my favorite italian cartoon La Linea. I will giggle even when I am traumatized and annoyed. That is an ok sign right??
In Case You Missed the Memo, You Are a Professor!
Yes you are a professor of Political Science. And it is obvious you are tired of you current occupation as a instructor. You are much more interested in replicating the evasive manouvers and techniques of those you are supposed to study.
WHO ARE YOU??
Well if you guessed my professor who is DRIVING ME INSANE you would be correct.
For the bloody love of mike. I sent an email with exact questions in it about an effing deadline. You would think that is a simple and direct question. He changed the deadlines: my question- does he want my paper now or more time to try and get some of the interviews.
What do I get? I get an email at 11:30 pm from a Prof who has NEVER emailed me in French even when I email him in French, yeah its in French. That isnt a problem or anything it is just weird. His French is funny, he is native but he says things like "un ballet des etudiants" A ballet of students, you cant make up that shit, or get away with it in any other language than French.
So in response to my direct questions I get an email (translating here) that says yes I have delayed the deadlines because of the extentions received for one of the other courses. I hope that isnt a handicap.
Handicap, I havent been playing golf lately... So ummm do I give it you on Thursday or do I wait and PRAY for people to respond to my interviews (that is going to happen with a change of govt and renegotations commencing on my topic, yup just like Porky Pig is going to fly out my ass saying Th-Th-Thats All Folks!).
FOR FUCKS SAKE we study politicians, that does not mean we aspire to be them or that we ought to emulate them. I am not asking for the formula for the atomic bomb, I have the internet for that. I want a date. And for the record I no longer think you are near as hot as HOT professor who I drool over and I have already turned my paper in for. Nor are you as intelligent. You have no ass and you are evasive. You bother me.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Weeel its amazing but it has happened, today I felt competent. I was completely in my element, I knew my shit and I knew it in French. if there is one thing I rock it is theory. I am the theory QUEEN. I even made cute eyes at the HOT professor. I made through 4 hours of class today in French without feeling mentally drained. I did this earlier in the module and all I wanted to do was take a nap. Which really means I have progressed immensely during my time here in Paris. It is amazing how incremental things just happen without you noticing. Lesson to self: I am probably harder on myself and more conscious than I should be.
Today I actively participated in classes, went out with people for lunch/coffee and then went and researched at the library; after which I came home and watched a Kevin Bacon movie, yes you guessed it, all in French. It is phenomenal. I still feel ok! I am finally in complete French mode. How do I know this you ask? Because as I was muttering to myself walking down the street (like all crazy Parisians do) I was doing it IN FRENCH. Yeah that is right I was being crazy in French and I liked it. I am LOVING my life in Paris right now. Things are just starting to come together. Of course this happeneing with all barrels loaded when oh yeah I am about to leave. I dont wanna!
I dont know what I am going to do with myself when I have to move to Italy in 15 days. I am so ostriching about that! Its not like language works like a switch and you can go from fully powered lights to zero to fully powered lights in a different currency. That is why you fry your electric gear when you come to Europe and you dont bring a converter only an adapter. Life is going to up and go upside down on me again. I am SOOOO not ready for that again. What crack was I smacking when I thought this whole itinerary up??
Even more in the Frog Pond:
To follow up for those who care on the last post about knitting, I have ripped it all back. Foxy started over from stitch one. All those nice stitches I did... Gone. I however decided against swatching again. Mostly because the yarn is pilling like crazy and having already been knit about 4-5 times told me I ought to give up that ghost. So I am trying making the next size up.
I am hoping and praying it will work. The base is measuring about 15.5- 16 inches and if I block the hell out of it I think it should be ok. If not there are others too give the tank too. The yarn investment wasnt anything out of control so I will live. The tank is pretty simple knitting wise but I have to say if there is anything uneven about a stitch damn does it show! I am a perfectionist but knitting is teaching me that sometimes it is ok not to be perfect. Sounds funny but I find myself being more centered and productive when I have a Knitting project.
I am barely 25% of the way dont with the front (or back they are the same) which means I am like 10% done with the project and I am already eyeing up my next project. I am addicted. I am wanting to do crazy things like cables and bobbles galore in the form of a tube top! I have two options, one easier than the other, but unfortunately made out of EXPENSIVE yarn. I so want to make some thing in Calmer... I want to make Soul from the Rowan Calmer Collection, or the cable hell, but VERY cute looking tube top from Rowan 29 (cant find picture to link to).
I know but what is there to say??
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Cause I got a bit ahead of myself and I am a little cocky :) In case any one of you coming by is some how a knitter....
I have a question: I made Missy, finished and laying flat the bottom edge is 18 inches. Which isnt too loose or too tight, even though the pattern called for 16 inches. My measurement problems with Missy are more at the back and maybe a nip of a stitch or two on the sides. What is up with Rowan patterns like that ugh. Oh well, it is a garter edge.
Now we get to Foxy that I started tonight it has a fun reverse rib. it is a P4 K1 repeat. I am using Licorne instead of 4 ply cotton. When I did the swatch everything seemed ok., if anything my swatch might have been a bit over. Two inches into my front the edge stretched out is about 14.5 inches wide (when Rowan said they want 15 inches) and I am not sure what to think or do with it. I dont want a skin tight tank I want one that hugs but is not suction cupped to me.
Any ideas, do I continue and see what happens at the end? Do I rip it all out and try to make a size up and see what happens there?? Whatcha think? If you need more info feel free to ask and yee shall receive.
So if you have ideas please feel free to comment. I reallly need to learn how to modify knitting garments that are already designed to fit me and my funky proportions.
If not well thanks for visiting :)
Its Ribby, Its Foxy, Its Pilling!
Well I made it to the conference in spite of the fact that I hadnt changed the time on the alarm. Woke up an hour later than planned. A scrambling I go. Should have known better than to think I would be there early. The colloque (on employment and social models- my research focus) had two extra benefits in the form of the new French Minister of Employment, Work and Social Cohesion and the VP of the European Commission, the Spanish Commissioner Loyola Palacio. It was interesting and enjoyable. Afterwards I went and did a little bit of shopping- which I "shouldnt" have but did anyways.
And since I cant do the research work I need to (again with the fucking library and the telling me one thing- you have two weeks, and reality you have two days- thus I cant check anything out! GRRRR.... )I am yes you guessed it knitting that is until I go out tonight. Tomorrow I will try writing up what I got but why not procrastinate even more while I can :)
I have finished the Missy tank top. Tickled to be done! While I like it, I do have a few things I would do differently. One being that I am probably either an extra small or in between cause the small is just a teeny weensy bit big, which I fix by tying the eyelet ribbon a bit tight. I need to learn more about modifying the pattern to my size! The cross over increases I wouldnt do over, it makes the extention unattached from the front. Also the straps- way too long, so Missy just became a halter top. I think if I were to make this tank again I would try to make the straps crossed on the back with buttons so that it could be halter or tank top style.
Now on to a new project and bit of experimentation. See I am new to figuring out european yarns. I usually have my lovely and wonderfully helpful home LYS to answer questions about substitution, provide ideas, help with whatever goes wrong. But seeing as they are 3500 miles away that quick trip isnt going to happen. So instead I have the nice lady at the Bon Marche Rowan counter and well me. I havent mangled any project yet.
So I find Rowan patterns that I like, because for now they have enough that I like and can keep me busy, plus I would actually wear them. The experiment is being that I am broke I am trying to find alternative yarns. Now Fluffa told me Aviso is like All Seasons Cotton, and I went over and saw Licorne and thought hey that is a bit like the Cotton Glace I used for teh other top. I am knitting ribby wonderful delight for Foxy > Trying it our in the smallest size. I figure if it doesnt fit the yarn was on sale and not that expensive and I can send it to someone.
However as I sit here knitting it is fecking pilling like CRAZY. Lets hope that it doesnt do that for life or anything. Cause sitting in a pile of little red fluffies everywhere is not my idea of cute. The yarn feels a bit more like wool than cotton. Supposedly it is a mercerized cotton. I am not the fiber queen so I dont know what that means but well, lets all hope the pilling ends and the paper gets written.
Friday, April 02, 2004
You know I feel like I am in grade school, or highschool for that matter; at camp. I am taking my nice shower in my 28 inch square cubicle pod (sometimes known as a shower) cause well I have to wake up early tomorrow for a conference with the new French Foreign Minister and European Union Commissioner.
I dont do mornings, seriously since living in Europe I have become part vampire. Pasty skin and all. Regardless I am trying to make it easy, if I shower tonight one less thing tomorrow in the morning when I will inevitably be scrambling around to try and get out the door to get to the place I dont know where is. I want to look all presentable and stuff too you know.
And so there I am with shampoo all lathered up, shaving a leg being all innocent and everything. And what do you know- out comes a blast of scalding hot water.
Just like when this one time when I was at cheercamp and we were staying on a male dormitory floor. I had to run through the mens bathroom in my the middle of the shower to flush urinals in the hope of getting warm water. All cause some twat upstairs flushed a toilet. (bad pun/joke- completely true story)
That or like the many times at the pools I have worked at where you want to cry after 4 hours in the water teaching swim lessons. Which warm as it is has left your teeth chattering only to find out that some damn kid has flushed the toilet. Flushing the toilet in this case pumps the last bit of hot water at boiling point through to you and then all the hot water disappears. Its great!
I live in a building with central heating and central water heating. It is great cause in winter as my landlord informs me I live in a building of old people (hey I keep seeing younguns but what do I know? wouldnt be the first time my eyes have deceived me) and so the building is kept warm. So warm in fact I have often left a window open to mediate the temperature. However as much as I love not having to pay for the heating of the air or water in my flat (really I do, saves me big moola) I do not want scalding water pouring down on me and having to do the hot cold dance with my shower.
All I want is a happy medium, why is that always out of range??
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Sure other people get songs stuck in their heads but not like me, oh no I couldn't do something normal now could I????
Like having a song stuck in your head isn't bad enough. Me I have a TV show theme song stuck. Not at an opportune time like when I am riding in the Metro or walking for my own self-entertainment. No, while I am sitting in the library researching. Cause one paper down and completely done. One to go, and I got about a week on it.
And its not something tame or anything. This is wear that freak badge comes out you know. Its the "catchy" freaking theme to a cartoon. See I have cartoon network and I watch part of the string of 60-70's Hanna Barbera cartoons (cause they ROCK) before I go to bed. Shut up.
Yeah that is right I am singing along to the Hanna Barbera Its the Hair Bear Bunch , or as it is called in the France: Les Trois Ours; theme song. Yes I sing with the happy pothead afro bears of the 1960's who ride an invisable motorcycle. And I know which parts Hair, Square and Bubi sing. Dear Buddha I am pathetic: In the wonderland zoo....aw we dont even bite... help help here come the bears. help help get it out of my HEAD!!!
Go ahead try and tell me I am not a complete freak I dare you.