22.9.06

4 cafes and it's only 1 o'clock

For some reason the escalators in the metro seem to be much steeper than most.... My greatest fear is falling when walking quickly down the escalator; as it seems as though I would just continue to somersault all the way to the bottom, destroying whatever lies in my path. I envision this horrible scenario almost every time I am rushing down the escalator... I pray it never actually comes true. Because I don't usually trip, I fall on my face.
Example: I was getting off the train in Dijon with a very heavy backpack full of my cameras, and trying to manipulate a large suitcase off the train quickly as there was a mob of people trying to get on the train. Somehow I caught my shoe on some invisible object and fell off the train into the mob flat on my face. Sprawled out on the ground, and not only did no one offer to help my sorry soul, everyone pretended as though I didn't exist. ouch. let's just say it was not quite my finest moment.

p.s. there have been more one sentence conversations with the souless/nameless. This needs to end. maintenant.

18.9.06

drinking on an empty stomach

An update on the "nameless/souless" man. I wrote him a one sentence response which said nothing more than "did you get my letter"... which in return from him provoked another one sentence response "oui. je l'ai obtenu." We are really not getting very far with such profound communication.
Yesterday was amazing. One of the best days I have had in quite a while, I heard it was a free museum weekend, which according to me is one of greatest things ever, so I marched over to the Palais de Tokyo to look at amazing art for free. Some was amazing...others, not so much, but it was a fantastic way to spend a Sunday, and just the inspiration that I needed. I left the Palais feeling extremely parched (I left the apartment sans water bottle... eeeek!) and did not feel like spending 3€50 for a tiny volvic at the museum... so I continued on in search of water and some inpsiration for photography (both were greatly needed). I wandered around near the Seine and could not believe how amazing it felt to be shooting again. I continued on my merry little way, and in the back of my mind was searching for either a market or a café to rest my legs and find some sort of beverage, as all day without water combined with excessive amounts of walking is really not a great combination... I found neither, several cafés, but I wanted somewhere quiet to be able to write and was slightly floating above ground since I had only eaten a bowl of museli all day, and now it was reaching 5pm. oops. Somehow I ended up at Châtelet, where I then decided that I didn't want food, nor wine, but cider from my favorite Irish pub :) Taking the only available seat at the bar, which just so happened to be next to a very good looking young lad who was doodling and writing. Fancy that? Somehow we started chatting and after my second pint on a very empty stomach I was feeling real good, enjoying good conversation and decided that life here is going to work out just fine, a feeling that continued for the rest of the evening, which involved meeting up with my favorite/only gay lover in Paris and deciding between the two of us, to drink a whole lotta red wine. Hence why my head is throbbing right now, eeeek. I think it is time to go back to sleep.

16.9.06

ouch

i burned my tongue last night on the world's best lentil soup.... and it still hurts. :(


going through my pictures... found this and decided that i liked it. a lot.

14.9.06

the laziest day in the entire world.

and i loved every minute of it. As yesterday I was horribly hungover after a night with my only real friend in this city... a night filled with over-indulging in over-priced booze, I had the best night of sleep last night that I have had in weeks. Yesterday was an interesting day... started off with a wake-up call from the delivery man to tell me he was at my door with my new bed... although unfortunately for him, I was half way across town, wrapped in the arms of a very very attractive "friend"... in my broken french I somehow told them I was on my way "dix minutes, s'il vous plait" knowing more than well, it was atleast a good twenty five minutes from his apartment back to mine...(i have a problem with lying when i am late, in my mind i am simply being optimistic) After running home expecting some very peeved delivery men, I found my beautiful new bed sitting outside my door, completely unharmed and alone, unless you count the lazer beam looks of death from my neighbor, who apparently did not appreciate the large delivery blocking the stairs (oops)... So being wide awake now, and suffering from an extreme case of dizziness, I proceeded to continue on with my day, even though I desperately needed and craved a nap. I slept damn good last night, so when I awoke this morning at nine to another ringing phone (this time it was a much better wake up call.... my mother :) it was painful to wake up... You know what i mean? when you are so deep in your slumber that it literally hurts to rouse yourself from bed? I never recovered from it... took a nap, and was absolutely useless. I love my life.

I also had a somewhat shocking surprise upon waking this morning and checking my email. A mail from the "nameless/souless man", as I like to refer to him. and it took me a while to realize it, but I fell pretty much madly in love with him the moment I met him, I simply tried to deny it in order to protect my heart. But love is not exactly something that is easy to ignore, or turn your back on. I tried, hard. but i was terribly unsuccessful. It seems as every time I think i have shoved his memory into my emotional closet to live amongst the mothballs... he finds a cruel way to remind me of his existence. evil. evil. evil. We had a fantastic love affair in the weeks before I left, but both strongly avoided any conversation regarding my departure or the reality of what we were doing. I did everything in my power to let the "nameless/souless" to believe that this was nothing more than a sexual escapade between friends... I thought my feelings for him were probably obvious, so being the six and a half year old that i am (and with a horrible fear of rejection)... I would do everything in my power to convince him otherwise. Regardless, after almost two months away from and still not being able to shake him, and after having received one email from him which said "i miss you, come home", and me writing a witty and flirty response and never hearing boo from him again, I decided that life was much too short not to tell those who you care for the truth. I wrote him a letter- a real one, none of this email nonsense- and basically professed my love for him, carefully, but I admitted to the fact that i was half way across the world and stop thinking about him. I emotionally vomited onto the paper, sealed the envelope and left my fate to the french and american postal service. a week passed (about the time it would take for him to receive it) and nothing... two weeks, nothing.... a month, nothing... now almost two months later, I receive an email which does not even hint on the subject of the letter. I had cut him out. Decided he was nothing but a coward to receive such a letter and do absolutely nothing. But what if he never received it? eeewwww... I think all of my evil thoughts towards him might have been unwarranted. I liked my dream of seeing him in the future, calling him a coward and walking away, but now he might not be as big a coward as i thought. humph. what is a girl to do? i think i might have actually suceeded in getting over him. if that is the case, i think i will be just fine. we will just have to see.

11.9.06

beginnings....

I have acquired a new addiction recently, which is blogs... I have found myself completely enthralled with the lives of others, and have been fighting the urge to start one of my own again, so here I am... (and this time I will actually keep it up).
This has been a very strange week, surreal to say the least. Three months ago, I packed my suitcase and ran away from home... well, sort of. I had a one way ticket from LAX to Paris and along with my best friend and partner in crime, had absolutely no idea what I was going to do. Before I left, I was slowly dying... working 50 something hours a week half waitressing and half photo editing, and so overwhelmed with anxiety (which I was blind to) that I lost way too much weight, rarely slept and could no longer feel, basically I was walking around, dead. It has taken me a long time to get to where I stand now, okay three months, but I can finally feel again... which can be scary, but is simultaneously that greatest feeling in the world.
I am now alone in Paris. After three fantastic months of wandering around France with "Bunny" and many wild adventures, she has returned home, and I find myself wondering how the hell I ended up here. In this apartment, with my adopted cat, in Paris... something told me to stay. I have absolutely no idea what that was, but I am living on the faith that somewhere within this city lies something for me. For now, I am wandering the city trying to figure out what in the world it is, and enjoying falling in love with the dream that I am living.



a short list of things I love:

  • kind smiles from strangers
  • the smell of the metro, as long as you are standing far away from any urine...
  • walks in the evening and smelling amazing dinners and the clanking of silverware as it is eaten. Makes me wish I had someone to cook for.
  • broccoli
  • clean clothes
  • the adorable old man who lives on my street that walks at a literal snails pace... I think his entire day consists of walking four blocks and back again. but he wears a suit and I love him.
  • speaking of suits, men in suits.
  • falling in love with a stranger who I will never see again
  • potatoes prepared anyway, shape or form.
  • wine. I can enjoy a good one almost as much as the 1 euro bottle... not a wine snob, although I grew up in a vineyard, so I can definitely tell the difference.
  • walking with no agenda and discovering new things.
  • inspiration. especially when it is sparked by peculiar and unexpected things.
  • philip glass. without a doubt one of the greatest pianists to ever grace the earth.
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