Since Tuesday

-hopped on the ferry to Portsmouth with a bookbag for me and a bag of presents for the family hosting me. the bottle of wine takes priority over another set of clothes for me, right?

-got headache, faceplanted into plushy seat, and napped for really not long enough.

-was welcomed to England by a gruff security guard who wanted to know who I was, why I was here, how long I was staying, why on earth I was living in France, why I left the USA, and how much money I had in my bank accounts.

-was really welcomed to England with big kisses by Lizzi and the fam! I can't believe I'm really back here sometimes! She's exactly the same =)

-Spent Wednesday morning doing a big British grocery shop in Waitrose, which is apparantly the place to shop.

-Spent Wednesday evening decorating the tree and getting into a British soap called Gavin & Stacey. The title characters are boring, but it's worth a check-out for the alternative friends and their families.

-Funny thing: English trees look just like American trees:

-Closed the night with a drive out to some lit-up Christmas houses. This is not such a big to-do in England as it is in the USA, but there are some areas that do it. Felt closer to home. Now if only I could see a giant inflatable Santa.

-Thursday was Portsmouth. A great little harbor town full of shops, and a really cool structure called the Spinnaker tower. It's high and from the top you can stand on a glass plane and look down all 170 metres to your bloody death if the pane didn't hold. Good stuff. It even blows in the wind.

-Shopping in Portsmouth: New Years cards (which is code for late Christmas cards), dress for Christmas day, and super cheap lady garment in my size! Take that, France.

-Lunch in Portsmouth was yummy pizza. But let's talk about dessert:

-Southampton was Friday. Did shopping, found my New Year's dress (the theme is class). Crap weather though, so we didn't bother to go find the Tudor houses. They were probably closed anyway.

-Fish & chips minus the fish.

-Tea, tea, tea

Will catch up later. For now, I'm off to see Winchester and the round table. Little bit of history for my Christmas Eve!

finally caught that holiday bug!

The last few days have been Christmas on lock.
-Home Alone plays on YouTube while I make crafty presents in my kitchen.
-My voice laces the beads of water under the shower. I'm singing The Drifters' version of "White Christmas."
-I buy all of my families' presents on Amazon this year so they will arrive on time. Bank card information is entered while I listen to my GrooveShark holidayzzzz mix.
-Buying more Xmas presents today - Normandy specialties for my English family!
-SCORE: Danny Elfman's "Ice Dance" from Edward Scissorhands just started playing. Spooky Christmas rock.
-Saving the Christmas soap that Erin gave me for England. Why just be excited for Christmas when you can smell like Christmas?
-Oh damn - "This Christmas" by the Temptations just came on. Mmm. Hang low the mistletoe - I'm gonna get to know you better, baby.
-There is an ice skating rink in Centre Ville. How many times do you think I will fall?


Merry Christmas! Now, let me hear you make some holy ghost crazy noise right now.

charlie chaplin helps me out of a funk

So it's Christmas time and I've let myself get a little depressed. Homesick to the 100th power. Haven't got a tree yet, haven't listened to any music yet, STILL haven't started my craft presents. But you know, life is still good. I spent the weekend in Brittany with dear friends of mine and the new addition to their family. I'm going to a holiday dinner party on Thursday and a birthday party on Saturday. And in a week, I will be in England with an amazing friend, laughing and enjoying the holiday spirit.

This video made me feel a lot more hopeful today:

Also, thinking of starting a blog in French.

The glowing review you have been waiting for

So I had to go to the doctor and get a prescription.

My appointment was at 19h15. Me being me, I got lost on the way. For about an hour, I walked around Calvaire Saint Pierre, which happens to be the same neighborhood I work in, and still I couldn't find it. Man, am I nulle at orientation.

In the space between getting lost and finally getting there, I called the doctor's office three times for directions. The receptionist was never frustrated with me or even hurried. He continually told me to take my time. And the third time I called, he non-sarcastically asked if I would like him to come and get me in his car.

Finally I arrived and quickly realized I had not been talking to a receptionist, but the doctor himself! Because doctors answer their own phones in France! What? We sat down, he asked me what's up, and I told him what prescription I needed.

Silly me, I didn't bring the box with me. BUT, not to worry, there's an app for that! Doc whips out his iPhone, types in the American name, finds the French equivalent, and BAM! I have a prescription in my hands.

As Doc is signing the prescription, he frowns and apologizes to me. He says, I'm sorry mademoiselle, but this prescription isn't covered by insurance here. You will have to pay.

In the USA, with insurance, my prescription is $60 a month. In France, without insurance, it is $5 a month. Again I say, what?!

All in all I was only there 10 minutes, and the last three weren't even necessary - we were just talking about insurance in the USA. OK France, major points for you.

Birthday in Paris!

Did you ever meet someone and after just a few hours you had this feeling that you could have a super strong friendship with her? That's how I felt after I met Sara. We took the same flight here to France, and we ended up sitting not far from each other on the flight. We had lots of time to chat when our layover was delayed in Iceland, and some more time as we figured out the train situation in Paris.

Sara is an assistant in Lille, so I hadn't seen her since the flight. But she invited me to spend her birthday with her in Paris! Of course I was looking forward to it all month. And it really was a lovely weekend.

I arrived on Saturday before Sara, so I headed over to Sainte-Chapelle, a Parisian church that is known for its gorgeous stained glass windows which depict scenes from the bible and the apocalypse. After that I met up with Sara and was pleased to find out that two other people who were on the flight were coming to dinner - Ellen and Madeleine. I also hadn't seen them since the flight!

We walked along the Christmas markets on the Champs-Elysées, and we bought churros, vin chaud (hot wine), and chocolate covered marshmallows. We could see the lights of the Eiffel Tower in the distance and the Ferris Wheel up close.

After that, we took a long stroll in the mild November chill to a restaurant district by Notre Dame, where we found a pizzeria. After dinner, gelato. After gelato, a smooth liquor called Cointreau in Sara's hotel room. Funny how cointreau gets you talking. Funny how talking bonds. It amazes me how four women like us, from completely different places and situations in life, can have so much in common and feel so close. (Side note: if you wanna see some seriously baby-sitters club photos of me and my girls, just go to my FB page)

Sunday we had a stroll in the Tuileries garden as we ate crepes and gaufres and chit-chatted some more. After a lunch at a bistrot, it was time for me to get on the train back to Caen. I wish I lived closer to these ladies, because I would love to get to see them more.

S & E in front of the Louvre

It was a great weekend for me, and I hope Sara had a wonderful birthday!!

Who's Thankful? This dame.

For the most part, the French don't do Thanksgiving. But I have been blessed enough to find a wonderful Franco-American family who has taken me in, so to speak. And this year they invited me to Thanksgiving with their folks. So instead of sitting in my room missing my family back home and listening to sad mopey songs on Grooveshark, I spent the evening with a super welcoming family eating all the delicious staples of an American Thanksgiving.

First course: Veloute of pumpkin and potatoes with creme fraiche and parsley. A veloute, as W reminded me when I posted my pics on Facebook, is a hearty soup that has been blended into creamy deliciousness.

Then there was the turkey! Turkeys are typically hard to find in France at this time of year, but this family has been doing Thanksgiving for 6 years. They found this bird at a local farm. He's grain-fed and free-range. Which basically means he had a happy life. More than you can say for your average butterball!

Our sides were gravy, stuffing, and these two mashes. Plus homemade cornbread and cranberry sauce. Best I ever had.

Cheese course! I'm definitely introducing this part of the meal to my family next year. We had chevre (W's favorite - the cylinder cheese) and two local cheeses: Pont L'Eveque (the square) and Camembert (the round wheel).

And then it was time for dessert. E really outdid herself. Not one, not two, but three pies! From top to bottom, pumpkin, apple, and pecan.

The night was over much too soon, but I was left with the feeling of family, of holiday, of tradition. I truly am a lucky girl. I hope all of you back home had a great Thanksgiving too!

Les Comediens

Joined a choir!

That's where I've been these Wednesday evenings, singing my heart out with the other assistants who invited me and their professors. We will even have a performance in May! Oh, how it reminds me of being with Bev at Stockton. How happy I always was to leave the writing center to go sing for an hour. And how happy I am on Wednesdays to go sing in French, in English, in Spanish, in Italian! Our choir is a little European Union and my apartment is a little planet. I'm a lucky girl. Plus, I get to sing fun songs like this:

Nov 1 Check-In

It's November already, and oh, how I have been busy.

Halloween was amazing. Pumpkin carving with Americans, Halloween party in Saint Contest Saturday, American-themed dinner in Caen Sunday. And to top it all off a comfy Halloween night chez moi watching Sweeney Todd and skyping mon cheri as he got ready to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters.

And today is November, All Saints Day. It's a national holiday here, which means no school, no work. For the most part, everything is closed. And the church bells are ringing off the hook.

Felt like a good time to look at my goal progress!

1. Get healthy physically, mentally, spiritually: Working on it. Have not set aside any time to meditate. Thinking of doing a cleanse when the seasons change.

2. Run 5k nonstop by March (the 3k track is literally right outside my door): Been to the track twice and can make it over halfway around, which puts me at just about 1.5k. I hope I can get to 5 by March!

3. Find yoga and do it at least weekly - First part down! Found yoga with recommended instructor at a University and first class is on Friday!

4. Eat seasonally: Succeeding. Shopping at the weekly market really helps.

5. See Germany: Planning to go at the end of May when my contract is up. Have been invited to Volksfest by a friend of mine who lives there =)

6. See south of France: Planning to go in February when my friend E comes to visit!

7. Perfect my french: This is an unobtainable goal as my french will never be perfect. But it feels better than ever. More on that later.

8. Cut down dairy/sugar consumption: Success! Despite living in the land of cheese, I have not bought any since I've been here. In fact, the only dairy I have purchased is a tiny can of creme fraiche and a block of butter. Am currently only eating cheese at restaurants/cafeterias, and I can feel the difference.

9. Write poems weekly: Unsuccessful, but turning it around.

10. Try other forms of writing/arts: Not yet.

11. Create lessons that I can use later as a teacher: Yes! I now have three that I can use.

12. Save money: Check.

13. Make awesome friends (already cracking away at this one!): Done and done.

14. Talk to family as often as possible: No trouble there.

15. Translate some French poems: Have found a few poets who pique my interest. Have to choose which poems.

16. Complete National Poetry Month in April (write a poem a day): Still far away.

17. Volunteer: No movement. Gotta get on that.

18. Complete advanced degree of french studies: Pre-registered today!

19. Handmake Christmas presents: Idea ready, and now time to get started on the execution!

things i did today

(in no particular order)
-bought three sweaters for 5 euro at the friday market
-gave a mean produce vendor a dirty look and bought all my produce from the vendor directly opposite her*
-received postcards from donna and rach! <3
-bought 30 euro winter coat instead of 60 euro winter coat
-bought 20 euro boots instead of 60 euro boots
-FINALLY bought warm running clothes
-found yoga and was offered three free classes
-listened to bad religion while cleaning to feel closer to T
-skyped my besties at loaf day!
-made and ate cauliflower, kidney bean,& red pepper stir fry
-met an awesome former assistant from Texas
-drank a chocolat chaud outside of a bar tabac

life's good.

*She deserved it. Last week she yelled at my friends and I for touch-testing avocados, and when her coworker told her she shouldn't be talking to us like that, she said she doesn't need to have any respect for us because we're foreign and don't understand anything. Oh, how satisfying it is in those moments to look the person in the eye and say, "je comprends madame."

It was a graveyard smash

Last night, rendez vous USA, or, as Whitney called it, Operation confuse the hell out of the french by carving into pumpkins. This is one American tradition that did not carry over to France. So we brought it!

Mine's the baby, and Preston's not looking too good. Too many tiny wines and chocobons maybe...

And the award goes to nightscape in Paris by the talented Kaitlin!

I was afraid of missing out on Halloween this year, seeing as how it's my 2nd most favorite holiday of the year. But with friends this awesome, I think it's gonna be one of the best Halloweens yet!

Blissed Out

Did you ever have one of those days that just will not stop getting better?

That was yesterday for me. In the order of which they appear, my Sunday in awesome:

First little bit of awesome: Sunday market. There's an open-air market just about every day here, but Sunday is the biggest one. Walking past table after table of cheese, veggies, cider...it never gets old.

Second little bit of awesome: See-saw in the park across from the crêperie! (still waiting for those photos from W)

Third little bit of awesome: Crêpe flambée, as in the waiter set it on fire right in front of me!

Fourth little bit of awesome: Finally able to get photos off my phone! Back story: apparantly I am where cameras come to die. My first digital camera was stolen in Peru, so I had to buy a Peruvian one. That camera was swallowed by the Atlantic Ocean last time I was in France, and my amazing colleagues all pitched in to buy me my French camera. Couple weeks ago, it stopped working. Nothing dramatic this time, it just wouldn't turn on anymore. Then we have the camera on my phone, which takes beautiful photos, but which I can't find the USB cable for. Solution? Buy a card reader! The first card reader I bought didn't read either of the cards. The one I exchanged it for read the camera card, but not the phone! So, completely on a whim yesterday, I thought I would try to plug the cable for the new card reader directly into my phone...and it worked!

Fifth little bit of awesome: My absolute favorite favorite favorite bande dessinée by Marjane Satrapi (fabulous author of Persepolis), Poulet aux Prunes, has been made into a film and is coming out next week! I could shout joy from the rooftops.


Sixth litte bit of awesome: I've been invited to a proper English Christmas in Southampton! One of my best friends from the last time I was here and her family have asked me to hop the pond and spend the holiday with them. I feel so full of love it is unreal!

Seventh little bit of awesome: Skype. Thanks to this amazing software, the last thing I see most night's is T's smile. Perfectly happy end to a perfectly awesome day.

Friday WTF

Sitting at Le Lounge Cafe with some dear friends of mine, chatting in franglais and drinking my chocolat chaud, and a freaking hummer drives by. The kicker? It had a french license plate. Discuss.

One month in and already on vacation

Toussaints was on all the professors' minds yesterday, my last day of classes before the break. No work until November 3rd for me. I might be traveling with one of my floormates next week.

Class update: things have been going lovely at my school. Everyone has been incredibly welcoming, teachers and students alike. I have even been invited to a Franco-American Thanksgiving! It never stops amazing me how kind and generous people can be with complete strangers. I feel incredibly lucky.

I was a bit sick this week, but was able to get all of my medicine and multivitamins for under 20 euros. Thanks France!

Today I hit up the Friday market. I can not express to you how much I love open air markets. It may be my favorite thing about this country, and I often said when I was home that it was the thing I missed most (aside from friends of course). I mean, a place where I can buy enough fresh fruit and veg to get me through the week for 5 euros? Hell yes.

We are approaching Halloween and I have plugged in my orange lights (damn I wish my camera was working). I think tonight a John Carpenter marathon is in order. All of the English floormates have left or are leaving tomorrow for vacation. Me, I'll be here, introducing all the other assistants to American Halloween. I even brought my devil costume.

urban legends and baked beans, oh my

I'm happy as this day was long. You may have noticed I don't blog nearly as much this trip as I did last time. That is because I am crazy super busy all the time in the best way. Living in Caen is awesome. Always a new assistante de langue to meet. I must have met 30 already and that's not even half.

Today I met two new friends at the station and we had a bit of a tour de Caen. Walked around the castle, the abbaye aux dames, brunched in an English tea house (baked beans with breakfast, really?), walked around the hippodrome where the horses race, and then met even more assistants in centre ville.

In total, we were fifteen. I don't know how we managed to find enough space at a cafe. French cafes are typically small and also jam-packed on Saturday afternoon. But we managed and I was smack in the middle of people who only wanted to speak French. Score!

Then off to dinner, my favorite creperie again. The hostess remembered my name and thanked me for bringing her lots of business. Last week I brought her ten, this week fifteen. I should get a free cider or something, right?

Then it was off to ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING THEATRE PERFORMANCES I HAVE EVER SEEN. The theme was urban legends, and this one was about William the Conqueror. I am really stoked about it. First there was a musical performance in the lobby. Couldn't tell you the instrument. Looked like a giant silver leaf. It was somber and beautiful.

Then they ushered us into a big common room where everyone sat on the floor and listened to the story of William's skeleton. Long story short, it was raided, and after a seriously long time they managed to find all of his bones, except his femur. Pesky femur. Then they found it! Well, they're 90% sure it's his anyway.

After story time we broke into four groups and watched dramatic scenes in the cloister. Two each about William and his honey Mathilda - one for each in their own time, and a reinterpretation of each set in modern times. The performance finished with the old and modern characters coming toward each other. It made me think about conquering, and how whenever we embark on a new quest, we have to think about our past and contemplate our future too. Very well done.

Guillaume, pissed off and ready to conquer

Crazy Mathilde, being courted by a peasant


Photos to come! Promise!

call me ambitious

When else in my life am I going to have the chance to really focus on self-improvement? Let's face it, in the USA I never have time to create and reach goals for myself. Here, I work 12 hours a week, giving me plenty of time to travel, read, write, do whatever the heck I want, really. So, I present to you my goals for 2011-2012.

1. Get healthy physically, mentally, spiritually
2. Run 5k nonstop by March (the 3k track is literally right outside my door)
3. Find yoga and do it at least weekly
4. Eat seasonally
5. See Germany
6. See south of France
7. Perfect my french
8. Cut down dairy/sugar consumption
9. Write poems weekly
10. Try other forms of writing/arts
11. Create lessons that I can use later as a teacher
12. Save money
13. Make awesome friends (already cracking away at this one!)
14. Talk to family as often as possible
15. Translate some French poems
16. Complete National Poetry Month in April (write a poem a day)
17. Volunteer
18. Complete advanced degree of french studies
19. Handmake Christmas presents

This list was inspired by a photo I took last time I was in France of my goal list. And I realized I had done most of them:
1. Find yoga
2. Eat better
3. Walk 1/2 mile a day
4. Become fluent
5. Finish l'histoire de pi
6. Try 20 cheeses
7. See D-Day beaches
8. See Eiffel Tower
9. Go to England
10. Complete NaPoMo (intentionally not completed)
11. Write poem in French

Funny what changes in three years, what stays the same.

Two Words

Lavender. Chocolate.

15/16ths to go

Talking to T last night, I said I've been here almost a full two weeks, and he said that means I'm 1/16th done.

When you put it that way, it doesn't seem long at all! 8 months sounds forever to me, but 16 biweeks sounds like it's going to fly by!

I'm already anxious to be back home and see everyone I love/miss, but I am also really excited about all the new friends I am making here. I live with about ten other assistants from all over the world - Russian, Chinese, English, Spanish, and Arabic - which means we speak only in French woot! And almost every day I meet some new assistants at school or from the Caen Facebook group. Living in Caen there is always something to do. I already feel busy and I haven't even started classes yet!

September October November December January February March April May

I know sometimes it's going to feel like forever, but maybe I don't have such a long road ahead.

Sister Act

This is the story of how I almost came to live in a convent for a year.

Since the lease was postponed, I started looking at other housing options, you know, just in case it didn't work out. I couldn't stay on Nath or C's couches forever after all. I'd been in France over a week and still hadn't unpacked my suitcase.

Suddenly I had a few options.

Option #1: Single room in an apartment attached to a family's house. Apartment to be shared with a perfectly nice-seeming gentleman University student I had never met. Forgot to check if the door had a lock when I checked it out.

Option #2: Convent where another English assistant is staying. Cheaper than aforementioned apartment and closer to the town center and all relevant tram/bus lines. The catch? Lots of rules to obey. No cell phone ringers after 9pm. Vibration with discretion. No talking after 9pm. No showers after 10pm. No boys allowed upstairs. Wanna go out after 9pm? Not unless you asked for the key by 4pm that day! It wasn't all bad. For one thing, I knew it was safe. I knew I would get to speak French all the time. And I would even have a housemate who I already knew I got along with.

Option #3: Room at a local high school. This one didn't seem likely because I had asked them over the summer and they were all booked. But wait, what's that? One of the assistants never showed up? There might be a room available? Well, guess who was knocking on their door at 8:30 the next morning with all of her bags saddled on her sides, looking like a homeless person who really needed a room? THIS GIRL.

So here I am, settled in, tiny buddha bought for my desk and keychain bought for my new keys. Sacrilege?

forgive me; i spoke too soon

All this week I kept saying, I'm too lucky. Something bad has to happen.

So I went and lost track of my cell phone for 20 minutes and it was stolen. And my lease was delayed a week, meaning I can't move in tomorrow as was the plan. Now I have to wait until Thursday.

Hmm.

Voila le week-end!

It's late Thursday morning here, and I'm wearing a big smile because this afternoon I go to sign my lease. I can't believe how lucky I am. A super cheap apartment in a nice neighborhood. Very calm, just families and senior citizens, mostly. I met my roommates and landlord yesterday when I went to help them move in furniture. All of the bedrooms have brand new armoires, desks, and beds. Then the living room and kitchen have a hilarious blend of old and new furniture. Retro, c'est cool.

And on top of all that being free, we have our pick of anything we want from another apartment that has been abandoned. Well, not really abandoned. See, it's kind of a come and go apartment, people come and leave stuff, knowing a new group of people will be moving in after. So over the years tons of stuff has accumulated - from mattresses and sheets to suitcases, clothing, games, and kitchenwares! I already eyed up a super nice food processor. Get ready roomies, hummus is on the way.

Tonight the weekend begins. I've heard exciting things about Thursday night in centre ville. Lots of people out and about, drinking, and making a ruckus. On vacation, Alex and I saw a drunk fight, and it wasn't even a Thursday! Oh, how I am happy to live in a University town.

Photos to come of apartment and city life. For now, how about a tour of my town's history?

Chateau Ducal de Caen - built by William the Conqueror in 1060. Was used as a barraks in WWII and extremely damaged. (Excuse the bad photo - couldn't get a shot that wasn't blurry and had to put the camera on the ground just to get a clear shot of one tower!)

Abbaye Aux Dames - former abby commanded by William the Conqueror for his honey Matilda. Founded in late 11th century.

There is also l'abbaye aux hommes, which I haven't gotten around to taking a photo of yet.

Eglise St. Pierre - one of the many churches here, this one is closest to where I am staying now. Built somewhere between 13th and 16th centuries. This view is from the drawbridge of the castle at night.

Pardon my bliss. There isn't much better than being in a beautiful historic city with some of the most supportive friends in the world, speaking a language you love everyday. Now, if only I could bring all of my besties and T over here, life would be perfect. But hey, close to perfect is pretty damn good. :)

three lessons and a lucky star

Nathalie says I have a lucky star, and she is so right. I don't know what I have been smoking lately, but I have been doing really stupid things. And for some reason I haven't been completely put out. I guess they make for good stories.

Lesson One: Don't share too much on the subway in Paris
I'm travelling with a HUGE suitcase, a 20 pound bookbag, and a handbag. Lots and LOTS of shady looking dudes get on four stops away from mine. Also enter a nice older looking woman, who leans against my bookbag. I stand to rearrange my things so there's more room.

Woman: Here, I can help you lift your suitcase like this if you want.
Me: Oh, thanks, that's nice.
Woman: Oh man, this is heavy! What's in here anyway? (Joking)
Me: Oh, I'm moving here for 8 months so it's my whole life.
(Pause)
Woman: Oh No! Don't say that! Don't say that at all! There's dogs all over here. You have to say, what's in here? Oh, just..stones and rocks and important bowls, and plastic games...

Lesson Two: Don't leave your wallet at the bar/tabac
Even if the woman behind you turns out to be really nice and finds it and gives it to the man at the register, and even if you realize five minutes later and run down the street to go get it back, just don't ever ever leave your wallet with ALL your money and id and important numbers in the bar/tabac.

Lesson Three: When you buy a phone card, don't leave the receipt with the code on it at the register
Similar to lesson two. Even if the cashier gives it to the manager and you go get it back ASAP, it's just much easier if you remember to take it with you right away and not risk losing 20 euros.

Voila my lessons. Things I already know, but I've been completely absent-minded here. I have to get better!

Commute, 9-24-11

This entry was written from the plane to Paris on the day I left for an eight month work contract.

Woke up happysad today. Long road ahead. Dressed, printed directions and booking, hugged Alex goodbye. Packed the car. Drove to my parents, installed Skype, advised them to get a webcam so I can see them and the kids when I feel homesick. Aunt Crystal & Uncle Jeff were there about to install hardwood floors. Can't wait to see how they turn out. Said another round of goodbyes. Held it together. Stopped at Wawa for a last pumpkin spice/hot chocmicals 16oz. That and my egg sandwich and swedish fish, T's treat.

Then it was on the road - we made awesome time, were in DC by 12 noon (3-1/2 hours total drive including rest stop in Maryland). First stop: Air and Space Museum. Hell yes. Free to enter and only $15 to park. I really recommend this if you ever happen to be in or around Dulles. The whole museum is just this huge aircraft hangar. It's deceiving how massive the place is. You walk in, and you see all the huge planes, and you're like, oh, it's not that big. But by the time you have walked one section you've walked the length of at least ten huge aircraft. So yeah, huge. We saw THE Enola Gay, the plane that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. Not a reproduction, but the real thing. That changed the mood real quick. We saw tiny yellow planes, car planes, parachutes, Nazi planes, the Air France commodore, and a Bud Light plane, among others.

Then there was space. A real-life shuttle, satellites, even a freaking jet pack. That made T really happy. Then after that we went up to the observation tower, from which you could see Dulles airport, which I flew out of! Also from the observation tower you could see lots of bugs, huge expanses of green, and the parking lot that housed only 2 yellow cars. My car Sundae looks great in aerial view.

We found a pizzeria called Generous George's. It became clear just how generous George was when the waitress brought over our water - each of us got a pitcher with a straw inside. At one point I looked at another table and saw a ten-year-old chugging out of the pitcher some hot pink sugary drink. Sigh.

Enough of the bad, let's talk about more good. T and I drove around trying to find Sully Park after lunch, and that's when I started to feel sad. Sad to leave him, family, and nervous in general about starting a new life, albeit a temporary one. Less tears this time than in 2008, and I kept remembering what everyone has been telling me - this is so right. I am incredibly fortunate. This is the chance of a lifetime. Eight months is going to fly by.

T & I finally found the park and had a short walk. Then off to the airport where he walked me in and discovered that Cinnabon coffee is terrible. My bag was checked no problem, I was offered a gate right away, and things started to feel better. Until I had to say goodbye. No words for just how hard that is to do.

After a quick pep talk from Donna and Rach over the phone, I approached the group of assistants that had started accumulating at the gate. We shared a group flight (the reason I travelled all the way to DC). What a great way to meet everyone. I don't think anyone on the flight was from Caen, but I now have friends all over France!
And now I'm on the plane. Crazy Heart was awesome. The Troll Toll episode of Always Sunny was on the movie server too. We had a slight delay in Iceland, but we're in the air now and I know where I am going when I land. Such a nicer feeling than I had three years ago. Wide-eyed and lost in the Paris subway, too nervous to speak the French I thought I knew so well after only three semesters.

I look forward to this year and everything it is going to bring me.

A bientot!

Bon Jour

Or, Bon Voyage, but the cake they bought me for my last day of work said "Bon Jour" by mistake.

Leaving in 4 days. Feel rushed.

My awesome friends threw me a going away party on Saturday. Highlights:
-The house decorated in yellow, including the balloon stringed to the handle of my car door
-Emily's french prostitute garb and non-pareil cupcakes, because she says there's no match for me
-Competing plum tarts, of which there was no discernible winner
-Coppola wine, Sangria by the bucketful
-Homemade banana bread with fresh bananas
-Cheesy veggie pie and empanadas and kick ass mac and cheese
-The giant scroll on the wall to sign (wall decor for France!)
-Telestrations and apples to apples

Leaving on a jet plane

Tomorrow I get a Visa. September 24th I leave for France. I do not have a return ticket.

Three years ago I did this. I got on a plane and moved to France for seven months. I left my loved ones for a country I knew next to nothing about, a language I had taken for a year and a half, and a shitty paycheck. This time I am leaving for much more. A career and a boatload of savings on an education being the most important things.

This all feels very surreal at the moment. Am I really going to be teaching high schoolers in Caen? Am I really going to be taking classes at the University? Is it true that I will miss holidays again, and 32 Tuesday nights with my niece and nephew?

Every week in Monday staff meeting at work I jot down a schedule for the next two weeks. This is what today's looked like:


So surreal.

The pluses:
-Time, time, time. Time to write. Time to run.
-Fresh produce market weekly
-Possible cheap housing related to community service
-Skype (didn't have wifi last time, already gave my parents a headset and installed it on their computer)
-AMAZING support system in France, whom I can't wait to spend all my time with
-Current boss is totally understanding
-Going away party with all my besties in one place

Chic, c'est la vie.

Craft Night!

On Wednesdays we craft. CK, Alex, and me. This week we were lucky to have the company of talented graphist (yep, that's a word now) MN!

Alex painted:


CK sketched the crowd:


MN gave us a ghostly forest:


And I put a bird on it:


Thanks for the pastels CK!

Alex made some progress last night. Isis helped.


And finally, I can't decide if Weds or Tues is my favorite day. Crafting with friends is rocktastic, but Tuesdays have this:

NaPoMo Day 30 Poem

So, I met my National Poetry Month goal at just about the same moment I found out Osama Bin Laden is dead. Weird.

This isn't the first NaPoMo that I have completed, but it is the first I feel really confident about. The photos were an awesome inspiration. Congrats, too, to fellow NaPoMoers Rach, Donna, and Kendall. Good show. Thanks for the prompts.



Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

We walk an elevated green field on the outskirts of a zoo in Cohanzick
for miles it feels
for seconds it feels
and on top of this hill
we come across a soccer goal
and inside the net is a panda.
We would like to play soccer
but how can you hit a panda
with a soccer ball? Peacocks
roam the brush up here and
we pass dried animal
ribs jaw teeth
we pass trash, stained orange,
tires bottles dolls that have
been washed again and again
by the mud.
We listen. The wind wisps
our hair. The peahen cries.
Remember the monkeys who
looked too human, the bear
who rested in a hammock
made of recycled fire
hose. Remember the chainsaw
art, the dingo who howled at
our smell. How do I blink
and you’re in uniform, approaching
the ball. Inside the net, the panda falls
onto his fluffed back. He is ready to catch.

NaPoMo Day 29 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

A world without plastic
No tupperware to hold our leftover rice, no red solo
cup to drink our beer from at parties, to eat our cereal
from when our bowls our spoons are stacked dirty
in the sink. Without plastic, the snap of a new DVD
case doesn’t send your memory to the chalked desks
of fourth grade, the velcro latch on your trapper keeper.
In a world without plastic, our boots would be made
of rubber again, and they’d be everywhere: a woman
finds one floating in the sink next to the pestle;
somewhere a young boy hitches an old fireman’s
to his back and strides home, dreams future forming.
In a world without plastic rubber would make our bottles
our fake breasts our cheap picture frames our milk jugs
hopes future forming.

NaPoMo Day 30 Translation

La Grasse matinee*
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

It’s terrible
the small sound of a hard egg broken on a pewter countertop
it’s terrible this noise
when it stirs the memory of the man who is hungry
it is also terrible, the head of this man
the head of this man who is hungry
when he looks at himself at six o clock in the morning
in the mirror of a department store
a head the color of dust
it’s not his head really that he looks at
in the window of Potin’s
he doesn’t care about his head the man
he doesn’t think about it
he dreams
he imagines another head
a calf’s head for example
with a vinegar sauce
or the head of whatever can be eaten
and it gently stirs his jaw
gently
and he gently grinds his teeth
for the world is paying its head
and he can do nothing against this world
and he counts on his fingers one two three
one two three
that makes three days that he hasn’t eaten
and he repeated to himself for three days
This can’t go on
this goes on
three days
three nights
without eating
and behind these windows
these pastes these bottles these reserves
dead fish protected by the boxes
boxes protected by the windows
windows protected by the cops
cops protected by fear
nothing but barricades for these six unhappy sardines
A little farther the bistro
creamed coffee and hot croissants
the drunk man
and inside his head
a fog of words
a fog of words
sardines to eat
hard egg creamed coffee
coffee sprinkled with rum
creamed coffee
creamed coffee
coffee sprinkled with blood!...
A man highly esteemed in his neighborhood
was murdered in broad daylight
the murderer the vagabond stole from him
two francs
to be a sprinkled coffee
seventy cents
two buttered tarts
and twenty-five cents for the tip for the boy
It’s terrible
the small sound of a hard egg broken on a pewter countertop
it’s terrible this noise
when it stirs the memory of the man who is hungry.

*La Grasse matinee is an expression for a lazy morning.

NaPoMo Day 29 Translation

Pater Noster
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

Our father who art in heaven
Stay there
And we’ll stay here on earth
Which is sometimes so pretty
With its mysteries of New York
And then its mysteries of Paris
Which are well worth those of the trinity
With its small Ourcq canal
Its great wall of China
Its Morlaix river
Its foolishness of Cambrai
With its Pacific ocean
And its two docks at Tuileries
With its good children and bad subjects
With all the wonders of the world
Which are there
Simply on the earth
Offered to everyone
Scattered
Amazed themselves to be such wonders
And which don’t dare admit themselves
Like a pretty young nude girl doesn’t dare show herself
With the appalling horrors of the world
Which are legion
With their legioners
With their torturers
With the masters of this world
The masters with their priests their traitors their troopers
With the seasons
With the years
With the pretty girls and the old jerks
With the rush of misery rotting in the steel of cannons.

NaPoMo Day 28 Translation

L’accent grave*
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

The teacher
Hamlet!

Hamlet (jumping up)
Huh…what…sorry…what happened…what is it…what’s up?...


The teacher (annoyed)
Can’t you say “present” like everyone else? It’s not possible, you are still in the clouds.


Hamlet
To be or not to be in the clouds!

The teacher
That’s enough. Not so many ways. And conjugate the verb to be, like everyone else, it’s all I’m asking.

Hamlet
Être…

The teacher
In English, please, like everyone else.


Hamlet
OK, Mr. (He conjugates:)
I am or I am not
You are or you are not
He is or he is not
We are or we are not…

Teacher
(excessively annoyed)
But it’s you who is not there, my poor friend!

Hamlet
That’s it, Mr. Teacher,
I am “where”** I’m not
And, in the end, huh, at the reflection, to be “where” not to be
That might also be the question.

*This is an accent in French, like this: où. If you translate the words literally it means ‘the grave accent.’ Take that as you will, and see the next note to get why Prévert chose it as the title.
** ‘Ou’ means or but ‘où’ means where. So this one is intentionally a double entendre, but it doesn’t translate that way in English.

NaPoMo Day 27 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:
Prompt courtesy Rach: Write a poem about prom night: While the seniors dance at Prom Night in Some Small Town, Middle America--a town of about 3,000—a tornado hits the town, destroying about a third of it. When the kids emerge from the dance, they discover what's happened.

We the survivors of prom night
didn’t feel our town crush, old receipt to the tornado’s
cracked fist. We thought the ceiling rained glitter
on our hair. Our town is small, but enough of us
in this sweating gymnasium and we can repopulate.
We’re not thinking of this as the guitarist riffs
something from the 70s, safe for our chaperones,
something that makes our backs bend, brings us closer
to the floor and to each other. Prom ends like it always
ends, desperate embraces like this is our last night.
Like we have survived a disaster. And then we realize
we have survived a disaster. We have lost our limos
to the spin. We have lost our stop signs our diner our cherry
blossoms. We do not panic, try to find home, get lost. Funny
how the landmarks guided us before. We see our house
has been scattered. In the middle of the yard, a small table
with our black cat on it. We find a pile of homethings: sewing
kit, dreamcatcher, energy saving light bulbs. How does a tornado
decide what it can do without? We scatter playing cards across
the ground. We meet a skeleton. We ask, who were you?
He can’t talk, but he breathes notes from the ribs
of that horn. A melody we don’t want to hear.
We plug our ears with bulbs.

NaPoMo Day 27 Translation

I've seen several
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

I saw one who was sitting on the hat
of another
he was pale
he trembled
he was waiting for something…doesn’t matter what
the war…the end of the world…
it was absolutely impossible for him to make a move or talk
and the other
the other who was looking for “his” hat was even paler
and he trembled also
and repeated himself nonstop
my hat…my hat
and he wanted to cry.
I saw one who read the newspapers
I saw one who saluted the flag
I saw one who was dressed in black
he had a watch
a watch chain
a wallet
the legion of honor
and a pince-nez
I saw one who led his child by the hand and shouted
I saw one with a dog
I saw one with a cane sword
I saw one who cried
I saw one who went into a church
I saw one who left it…

NaPoMo Day 26 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Central
At the center of the frame a man, taller than most, holds
hands with a short woman, and in his palm stands a miniature

man in a suit. At the center of a café at the center of a small
town the man in the palm thinks he is the center of everyone’s
world. But he’s in the right hand of the tall man which means

he’s a little to the left. The miniature thinks he is the tall man’s
right hand, but he’s just in it. The tall man at center is in a trench

coat and black top hat. His calves shift his weight, but he’s still
at the center of the short woman’s gaze. She’s his right hand

man. Her feet push pumps into the concrete,
which is at the center of two roads.

NaPoMo Day 26 Translation

The beautiful season
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

Hungry* lost frozen
All alone without a dime
A sixteen year old girl
Standing still
Place de la Concorde
At noon the fifteenth of August

*Hungry is not really the right word here, but it's the closest thing we have in English to "a jeun," which means that someone has not yet eaten in the morning, after a long sleep.

NaPoMo Day 25 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Souvenir
We walk on the beach. The moon is shedding
orange light on the waves, in our pupils, across
the hulking clutch of the ferris wheel. You tell me
the science behind the harvest. We are dressed
in tangerine.

The moments only happen once. I know because
I had words like this tattoed on my shoulder
and side. You tell me about sediment transport
as I carve letters into a dune with a stick. I love
is a complete sentence. I don’t need a direct
object.

You know you know you know stories of men
who played music on trains, purple hearts
in the war, weird statues made of computer
parts, but you don’t know we don’t know
three years from now you will breathe
along my hips, half-dressed and still
curious, an orange peel on the ledge and tubas
blaring from the tracks.

NaPoMo Day 22-25 Translations

I'm rocking the poem a day challenge. I can feel it. My voice has really come into its own. I wish I could say the same for the translation a day challenge. But the more I try to translate poems, the more I realize I really can't at my level. The best I can promise is that I'll give you a general sense of the poem. I'm stoked to see how that will change as I keep learning more about this language.

Day 22
Where I’m going, where I’m from
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

Where I’m going, where I’m from
Why I am soaked
Come on, you can see.
It’s raining.
The rain, it’s rain.
I’m going down, and then
And then that’s it.
Follow your path
Like I follow mine.
It’s for my pleasure
That I wallow in the mud.
The rain, it makes me laugh.
I laugh at everything and everything and everything.
If you cry easily
Go back home
Cry for yourself
But leave me
Leave me, leave me leave me, leave me.
I don’t want to hear the sound of your voice,
Follow your path
Like I follow mine.
The only man who I loved
it was you who killed him
Clubbed, trampled…
finished.
I saw his blood run
run into the creek
into the creek.
Follow your path
like I follow mine
The man who I loved
is dead, his head in the mud.
That I can hate you
hate you…it’s crazy…it’s crazy…it’s crazy
And you you wait on me,
you are too good for me,
way too good, believe me.

You are good…good like the rat keeper is good for the rat…
but one day…one day will come when the rat will bite you…
Follow your path,
good men…fine men.


Day 23
Memory
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

Twenty years after one hundred years later
still the sordid musketeers
still the same swashbucklers
still the carriers of the banner
Child I saw an image
of men in black clothes with a green face
standing around a man named Ferrer
Oh poor living men
how you have tough adversaries
still the same without one change
oh unhappy executioners
similar to those before.


Day 24
Familiar
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

The mother does the knitting
The son goes to war
She finds this all natural the mother
And the father what is he doing the father?
He does business
His wife the knitting
His son the war
He his business
Hi finds this all natural the father
And the son and the son
What does he find the son?
He doesn’t find anything absolutely nothing the son
The son his mother does the knitting his father his business he the war
When he has finished the war
He will do business with his father
The war goes on the mother goes on she knits
The father goes on he does his business
The son is killed he doesn’t go on anymore.
The father and the mother go to the cemetery
They find this all natural the father and the mother
Life continues life with knitting the war business
Business the war the knitting the war
Business business business
Life with the cemetery.

Day 25
At the florist's
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here


A man enters a florist's
and chooses flowers
the florist wraps the flowers
the man put his hand in his pocket
to get some money
money to pay for the flowers
but at the same time he puts
suddenly
his hand on his heart
and he falls

At the same time that he falls
the money rolls on the ground
and then the flowers fall
at the same time as the man
at the same time as the money
and the florist stays there
with the money that rolls
with the flowers that rot
with the man who dies
obviously all this is very sad
and she has to do something
the florist
but she doesn’t know how to take it
she doesn’t know
what to start with

There are so many things to do
with this man who died
and these flowers that rot
and this money
this money that rolls
that won’t stop rolling.

NaPoMo Day 24 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Another personal one. Not ready to share the whole thing, but here's an excerpt. Happy Easter!

Lady, there’s a lion in your lap
You and I know he is always going
to go for the feather in your hat. Paws
will dirty your skirts. You can keep
this lion, lady, but not on your lap.

NaPoMo Day 23 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:


April: thinking of rain
after Jane Kenyon
First, the slick drop on my window,
the mist through the screen. I remember
we had a bird in a cage. My brother and I
would set it outside as we ran around
the yard. Grass crunched, flowers bloomed.
Sometimes he would chase me with a toy
gun. Most days, I am the bird.
When it rains, I feel like the cage.

NaPoMo Day 22 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Nude woman talks to a skeleton
Skeleton you are
my friend. Look
what you have
achieved. Shed
muscle and sinew,
cartilage and skin,
until you’ve only
curves of rib, jaw,
spine. You did it
skeleton, but you
are rusted now,
because it is raining
and because you have
nothing on your
person. How silly
you would look
carrying an umbrella.
Skeleton, if you insist
on being only a
skeleton, I wish
you would wear
some clothes.

NaPoMo Day 21 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Amateurs
Here’s an elderly couple, upset with a boy for clapping
between thunder and lightning flash. It distracts the raven,
they say. It won’t bring the storm inside.

He knows they are crazy. Knew it since he saw them grasping
the wire fence at his game. He went with them for the thrill.

They do this on Sundays. Find someone willing to play, pay
if they must. Last week it was a hippie at the beach – dread
locks twisted beneath a paisley bandana – they posed him
with a tiger cub and plums shining on hooks.

The couple is not looking for a certain aesthetic. They want
only to capture something unique. A suited boy stroking
a raven, the antlers heavy on his head; a young mother
in a tutu licking grains of salt from between her fingers,

or most recently, themselves, spooning oatmeal at dinner,
mixing mixing until the berries swirl color in their bowls.

In their spoons, hummingbirds. In their cups, cotton. They still
can’t get the shot. So they wait for the image that rounds
their lips. The one that contracts their pupils.

NaPoMo Day 21 Translation

Clouds
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

I went to get my wool from a young goat and it followed me
the gray
he is wary not like the older one
he is still too small

She was teeny tiny too
but something inside her already felt old like the world

Already
she knew of terrible things
for example
that she must be wary
and she looked at the kid and the kid looked at her
and she wants to cry
He is like me
she says
a little sad and a little giddy
And then she had a big smile
and the rain begins to fall

NaPoMo Day 20 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Prompt: List 10 facts that make today seem different than any other day. Craft these facts into a poem. The common thread between the facts is the title.

Creation
A friend paints sea creatures for a nursery
at my dining room table. Pressed against
muscle and bone, the hard point of her son.
She lets me touch the fold of him. We have
been crafting tonight. It is almost Easter.
A painted egg is staring at me from a crate,
and for once there is nothing in the background.
No glow of the plasma screen TV, no blurred
lyrics spreading over us from dusty speakers.
It was 84 degrees today, and the pizza man
made a vegetarian turnover. We discuss
creation. How she can’t know which features
she will give her children. She would like them
to match, the way the paint on these wooden
fish matches the walls. She has nightmares
they will not be uniform, that they will stack
like men in old photos. The tallest in the middle,
an average brother and very short brother
on his flanks, all in trench coats and top
hats. All holding canes. I tell her I’m sure
they will be beautiful. Their filmed smiles
will inspire poets. Chinese tea eggs simmer
in a pot. She asks me about my day as we breathe
the spiced air. I answer: a frenchman thought
my translation of a song was perfect and no ducks
approached me in the park.

NaPoMo Day 19 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Woman finds two kids on an old metal slide
They say three women make a market.
But how about one woman and two
goats? She has no idea what to do
with these kids. She knows she can
not use their milk, their bones, their
hides any more than she could pluck
the bigger from the top of that slide.
A goat atop a slide sees further than
a goat at the base. That’s why he trots
on the way down, hooves cautiously
kneading the metal beneath him at each
step. Does or bucks? She strives to find
a purpose for them. She lets those horizontal
slitted pupils follow her to a tree. If angled,
she has heard, the goats will climb it. Their bleats
ascend; the woman tilts to watch them sniff, lick
each groove in the bark. She is not surprised
when they return to her, nibble her buttons, her plaid
camera case, the soft summer of her hair.

NaPoMo Day 20 Translation

Love to the robot
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

A man writes to the machine a love letter and the
machine responds to the man and to the hand and to the place
of the recipient
She is really a perfectionist this machine
the machine for washing checks and love letters
And the man in the comfort of his
machine for living reads to the machine for reading the response
of the machine
for writing
And in his machine for dreaming with his machine for calculating
he buys a machine for lovemaking
And in his machine for realizing he dreams he makes love
to the machine for writing and the machine for making love
And the machine cheats on him with a gadget
a gadget for dying of laughter.

NaPoMo Day 18 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Lonely woman shares tips for making the perfect men with a crowd
Mold the body from cotton and clay. Dress
him in a suit and tie. He is the base for your
little Frankensteins. Don’t forget the neck
is a seam. The idea is to hide the hem, to twist
off and exchange the heads with discretion.
See, the paper doll companies got it
all wrong. We want one body and we want
heads, unshrunken, beautiful heads. You can make
them from the body’s spare parts, weave the scraps
until they stare into you. Fill their skulls with tokens:
rusted coins for the negotiator, a mike for the vocalist.
Craft each head into what you’ve always wanted
to be. Remember, every woman should have
a repairman. The lover, the protector, if they matter
to you. I need them all, and more. Last piece of advice:
at night sleep with the body alone. It doesn’t need
a mind to hold you in its arms. Let the heads
watch you together from your dresser, if you like,
or hang them from the racks in your armoire. As long
as they can see. If you dare leave one attached,
it will think it is yours.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 17 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Husband and wife talk to a therapist about communication issues
The wife has glued her lips together and sewn
the skin of her husband’s neck to a 12 bolt
diving helmet. Fused his body hair to the fabric
of a scuba suit. She wants to know why they cannot
communicate.

The wife is terrified of water, of losing her husband
to the slick of it. Still, she refuses to loosen the stitch.
Instead she cuffs herself to his arm in the shower,
the pool, walking through the sprinklers, even when it rains.

She knows the ocean is the only place he does not suffer
from vertigo. She can see he is dizzied by cold anywhere
but the sea. Each time he grows a gill, she threads a needle.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 16 Poem

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Judges’ comments to the beauty pageant contestants
Women, eight of you, the sum
of your beautiful parts. 16 panty
hosed legs, 64 abdominal muscles
that sing of heated symmetry hidden
beneath the curves of your veldted
flesh. 640 strokes of a tiny paint
brush across 160 manicured nails.

Eight finalists, grazing the stage.
Eight lower lips, five widows
peaks. Eight pairs of pumps. Is eight
your lucky number, 13? Liberty rolls,
bobby pins, powder applied at the high
of your cheekbone and brushed
toward your temples.

Women, eight of you, the secret
is this: you can all win. Just fan
yourselves out, mount our table,
smother us
like the mangled
spider that you are.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 15 Poem

Oh. Em. Gee. It's my America poem. It's my rodeo poem. It's a New Jersey poem. I am beyond excited about this. I cannot wait to (heavily) revise this. I want to play with the details, and work the epigraph in more. Here's the first draft.



Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

The rodeo comes to Atlantic City’s Boardwalk Hall

It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.

It occurs to me that I am learning
America at the rodeo. The pleated
dismount of the clown
from the bleachers,
the glitter of the horse
trainer. Studs and spurs forever.

My daddy gave me this flag, this pistol
before he took me to see the cowboys
get bucked at Boardwalk Hall. A rodeo bag
with seven years of America crammed inside
hangs from my shoulders. My favorites: a baby
seal sticker. A half missing sheet of candy
buttons. Seeds from a Jersey tomato.

It occurs to me that this announcer
is America. She doesn't want to buck
tonight, he tells us. I’ve been doing this
for forty years, and I can tell you that cowboy
came here to buck and he’s gonna do it.

A cowboy from Bridgeton mounts
a bull. His daddy was a Mexican
fightin bull and he will hook your shorts,
my father tells me. The floor is sticky.
And they are cheering for the cowboys
and they are cheering for the animals.
This is the rodeo, this is how it has
always been. I am not meant to know.