Mina v.3.0

Detox Day 8: The day I realize my cereal has vegetables in it

2012-01-23T13:03:00.000-08:00

Officially a healthy-eating grown-up. three principal ingredients in my cereal: anise, ginger, and...wait for it, cilantro. Or coriander for you brits. Whatever way you cut it, that's a veggie. And no sugar added. Oh, how I miss Cookie Crisp sometimes.

I smelled up my hallway in the best way possible this evening, with curried roast parsnip, carrot, leek and potato.

I think I have officially regulated my sleep - clocking in sleepy at 10pm and waking up early enough to go for a run before classes.

I am having the most wicked sugar cravings though. Want. cake.

I think this week I will re-incorporate peanuts and wheat into my diet. The goal of the detox is to eliminate common allergens completely. But let's face it: I am not allergic to these two foods, and even if I am, there's no way I'm giving up either of them.

Holding strong against sugar though. Go ahead sugar, keep luring me with your siren song. I got this.

Detox Day 7: Feeling when I done wrong

2012-01-22T00:12:00.000-08:00

Woke up again today before my alarm. It feels nice not to be so tired all the time. The cleanse is going well and I think I have successfully hit all three goals: clean, rest, and balance. And as an extra bonus, in the last few days I've been feeling really in tune with my body. I know how hippie that sounds, but hear me out.

First thing I did wrong: got dehydrated. One of the keys to this detox is drinking tons of water. At least two liters a day, to facilitate digestion and flush the bladder. Friday, being the first day I wasn't at school/in town with my water bottle attached to my hip, I barely drank anything. How I felt it: I had no energy at all yesterday! Was ready to take a rest after the four sets of stairs up to my apartment.

Second thing I did wrong: skimped on whole grains. How I felt it: see exhausted! Friday was the only day I didn't eat very much (bad planning and I was in town without a meal).

Third thing I did wrong: ate at 10pm. How I felt it: Trouble sleeping. Before I started this I was tossing and turning more than usual, and not liking the new pattern. As part of the detox, I don't eat after 7pm, so that my body can focus on resting during the night and not digestion. But last night I was waiting on a friend and didn't get to eat until 10pm, then went to sleep at midnight. Hello weird dreams and waking up at each noise, something that hadn't happened all week.

Fourth thing I did wrong: ate past my hungry limit. My chili was just so damn good I wanted some more. Can you blame me? kidney beans, tomatoes, squash, carrot, onion, pepper, and whole grain brown rice. Yum! I had a second spoon even though I wasn't hungry anymore. How I felt it: maman, j'ai mal au ventre!! (Felt like a kid who ate five bowls of ice cream for dinner)

Yesterday I had my cranky hat on, and said maybe this detox isn't for me because why am I so tired. Today let me be honest with myself: I feel great when I do it right, and I feel loafy when I do something wrong. So I think I'll give it some more time and see what happens when I go all in.

Happy Sunday! Go check out PostSecret!

Detox Day 5

2012-01-20T10:17:00.000-08:00

Feeling damn good, even though my brain is trying to convince me I need sugar. No more headaches, but I did have a dream about cake. American cake, frosting and all.

Currently eating quinoa and feeling like OMG WHY DID I NOT KNOW HOW FREAKING DELICIOUS THIS FOOD WAS sooner.

Detox Day 2: Good morning banana oatmeal!

2012-01-17T00:11:00.000-08:00

Felt headachey and sleepy last night, though couldn't tell if those were from lack of sugar or cause I'm still recovering from état grippaux this weekend.

This morning I don't feel hungry at all and woke up really energized!

Today is my longest day at school so I will have to bring plenty of detox-OK snacks and remember to drink lots of water.

What I ate on Day 1
Banana
Clementine
Hazelnuts
Rice/Veggies (onion, garlic, broccoli, carrot, red kidney beans)
Apple
Corn cakes with hummus

In case you were wondering, I'm only drinking lemon water and limited tea/coffee this week.

OK, on to day two. Wish me no headaches or other sugar withdrawal symptoms!

my favorite Kate Nash song ever

2012-01-15T12:08:00.000-08:00

Right, birds can fly so high or they can shit on your head, yeah they can almost fly into your eye and make you feel well scared, but when you look at them, and you see that they're beautiful - that's how I feel about you.

french cough syrup...good to the last drop

2012-01-14T12:57:00.000-08:00

So I'm sick for the 6th time since I've come to France. It's pretty wonderful. You know, I get to be laid up in bed on a beautiful Saturday night in a hopping university town, chugging cough syrup and spraying solution up my nose (note to self: do the spray first - it's disgusting!) while I tear through my 24 pack of lotus tissues.

I have to say, I'm not surprised I'm sick. I gave my immune system a beating over Christmas holidays being lazy and eating too much sugar. My body wants me to know I screwed up. It's interesting for me to think that my habits brought this on. Throughout my life, I was always unhealthy, but rarely sick. Eating shit food and not exercising was normal for me. Now, it's the other way around. I can feel it when I haven't been healthy, and it hurts. I gotta say, as uncomfortable as I am this week, it's pretty awesome to know that the healthy space is now my norm.

Anyway, to apologize to my aching, no-energy having body, I'm starting a detox on Monday. Apparantly this works really well for a friend of mine whenever she's feeling off or out of balance. It's basically a diet of whole grains (except wheat), veggies, fruits, and healthy oils. Vegan and gluten-free. And tons of water.

I went to the French version of Pamela's health food store today and got myself loaded up on brown rice, quinoa, millet, oats and rice cakes. Tomorrow it's the open air market for all my seasonal fruit and veg. If I can get out of bed, that is. I wish these vendors would deliver.

What I did yesterday

2012-01-08T06:07:00.000-08:00

Booooks!!!!

SCORED:
-hard-bound complitation of photos of Caen taken thirty years ago
-anthology of poems from the Rochefort school (of which Rene Guy Cadou is a member - some of you may recall a very bad tattoo idea that had to do with a poem of his)
-anthology of popular French poems (which probably means they're not the best out there but good to know what the french are reading)
-anthology of prose poems
-compilation of hope poems. i should clarify here that while this may be a book of the "soup for the soul" variety, the poems are actually good, so i don't feel bad about it.

The good news is that the marche aux livres comes the first week of every month. The question is: how am I possibly going to get these books back with me?!

Among other things, I also had two coffees yesterday. I hate coffee in a big way, but I have been spending way too much money on hot chocolates and teas in these french cafes. So coffee it will be. Goodbye sugar crashes/hello caffeinated twitching and too much energy!!

Resolutions shmesolutions

2012-01-02T13:56:00.000-08:00

It's a New Year! Which means everyone is busy at the gym or registering for Mint.com, or doing whatever else they gotta do to get those resolutions moving. I set myself some goals when I came to France three months ago, so I'll be working on those throughout the year. Let's see how I'm doing.

1. Get healthy physically, mentally, spiritually: Working on it. Physically is coming easiest to me, though I did meditate last night, and I'm still thinking of doing a cleanse in the spring.

2. Run 5k nonstop by March (the 3k track is literally right outside my door): This one is on hold because it has been feezing and I haven't been running! I started again today with Whit. God knows how long it will take me to get to 5k!

3. Find yoga and do it at least weekly - Oh man. This is a story for the ages. Found yoga & went to a class and realized it was partner yoga. Awk! I just want it to be mr and my flow. Looks like I'll be doing it in my room.

4. Eat seasonally: Succeeding. I even got a chart with the fruits listed by season to help me.

5. See Germany: Going to Volksfest in May!

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

7. Perfect my french: Working on it. England hurt me a little bit, but I've been getting back into the swing of things. And I found a group of friends who really don't mind correcting me.

8. Cut down dairy/sugar consumption: Again, England hurt me on this one. But, I've cut wayy back and I can definitely feel the difference.

9. Write poems weekly: Still unsuccessful. Lots of inspiration, but now I need to set aside time to actually write!

10. Try other forms of writing/arts: Freewrote some stuff and been journaling. Got crafty with my Christmas presents. Must find another métier...

11. Create lessons that I can use later as a teacher: Coming along handsomely! Best lesson ever = how to express yourself when a fight about politics breaks out at Christmas dinner.

12. Save money: Harder than you would think. Marking this unsuccessful for now, and hoping I can get it together soon.

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: Translated some passages from a really poetic book. Gonna start a class about Jacques Prévert after the break.

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: Classes start at the end of the month!

19. Handmake Christmas presents: Executed and well-received!

I'd give myself a solid C so far. I've still got a long way to go. Also, this year I would like to get my Christmas cards out on time and be more independent. Wish me luck!

Since Tuesday

2011-12-24T01:23:00.000-08:00

-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!

2011-12-17T01:47:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-13T11:15:00.001-08:00

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

2011-12-08T04:07:00.001-08:00

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!

2011-11-25T05:39:00.001-08:00

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.

2011-11-25T05:00:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-18T05:05:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-01T06:15:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-28T13:43:00.000-07:00

(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

2011-10-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-24T05:37:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-21T14:06:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-21T04:38:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-15T15:32:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-09T13:47:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-08T04:03:00.001-07:00

Lavender. Chocolate.

15/16ths to go

2011-10-07T01:12:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-06T14:30:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

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!

2011-09-29T01:55:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-27T13:56:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-12T12:29:00.001-07:00

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!

2011-05-06T08:48:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-01T20:37:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-01T20:15:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-01T19:27:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-01T19:25:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-28T07:24:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-26T18:45:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-26T06:47:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-25T09:22:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-25T06:26:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-25T06:15:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-25T06:11:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-21T13:14:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-21T11:28:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-21T09:34:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-20T08:20:00.001-07:00

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

2011-04-19T21:29:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-19T20:31:00.000-07:00

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

2011-04-19T20:14:00.000-07:00

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.

NaPoMo Day 15-19 Translations

2011-04-19T19:49:00.000-07:00

Catching up from camping weekend. These were done quick and dirty, so I'm sure there are plenty of errors/misunderstandings for you to sink your teeth into.

Day 15
The daughter of wind
Olivia Ruiz
from The Chocolate Woman
Video here

Yes, I have character
A wicked temperament
Which is credited to my mom
Of worry and of torment
It’s what I have in my arteries
My tannins and my pigments
Which make up the blood and the earth
Like lava from a volcano

I am the daughter of wind
Who crosses the mountains
I torment the passers-by
By stealing their clothes
I defy all the currents
All the greased stars
That pass while dreaming
In platinum and champagne

Yes, I have character
A wicked temperament
Which is credited to my mom
Of worry and of torment
It’s what I take from my father
The passion and enthusiasm
That \make the huts quake
And make the lovers hug

I am the daughter of wind
Who crosses the mountains
To assault the passers-by
The cities and the country
I am wary of convents
And the gods wearing cloth
For I carry in my blood
All the wounds of Spain

Yes I am complete
And I move forward
Without listening to my father
The warnings
It’s that I’m like my mom
I got it at birth
The glow of lightning
The force of wind

I who am his daughter
I carry madness
The beauties of Castile
Or of Andalusia
I hold to my family
That today I am
I tip my banderilles
Faced with dangers of life

For I have a temper
His damn character
Which makes me tell my father
That I am his white hair
That I am his white hair

Day 16
The right to look
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

You
I do not look at you
My life doesn’t look at you either
I like what I like
and that alone looks at me
and sees me
I like what I like
I look at them
they give me the right

Day 17
The river
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

Your young breasts glisten beneath the moon
But he threw
The frozen pebble
The cold stone of jealousy
On the reflection
Of your beauty
Which danced nude on the river
In the splendor of summer

Day 18
When…
Jacques Prévert
from La pluie et le beau temps
French version here

When the lion cub takes lunch
the lioness gets younger
When the fire claims its share
the earth blushes
When the dead speaks to him of love
Life trembles
When life talks to him of death
love smiles.

Day 19
Janine I
Camille
from Le Fil
Have a listen here

Why do you call me Janine
when my name is Therese?

Why do you call me Ardeche
when my name is Correze?

Why do you call me triangle
when my name is trapezoid?

Why do you call me Louis XV
when my name is Louis XVI?

Why do you call me rooster egg
when my name is omelet?

Why do you call me oboe
when my name is trumpet?

Why do you call me Don Juan
when I have a tiny prick?

Why do you call me cap
when my name is helmet?

NaPoMo 2011 Day 14 Poem

2011-04-18T06:36:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Rentre dedans

There is an elephant in your
apartment. He is oblong,
he is taking more space
than he needs. His trunk
is sopping water from
a sink full of bubbles.
His tusk is prodding
me from between
the banister. You have
to move. But how are you going
to get this elephant in your car? Look,
since as long as he can remember,
this elephant has wanted to be
smaller, like a calf or large
pig, the kind of animal
who can fit in a tea cup
when he is born. You can
not stuff an elephant, not
this elephant, into your car.
Every wrinkle that does not fit
cuts him to the quick. The older
the car, the less likely the elephant
will want to ride in it. You try
everything. You sprinkle
peanuts on the seats, but
this is not enough to get him
in. It is still four walls and a roof.

NaPoMo Day 13 Poem

2011-04-15T08:02:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Just so you all know, I am definitely revisiting this one. Just did NOT have the strength to write a real Snooki poem during catch-ups. Cinquains are enablers of cheating.

Love Song for Snooki

Some men
made a giant
pickle for Snooki. Soaked
in brine, jarred and frozen till half
her size.

Will you
take it, Nicole, this absurdist
portrait, curve into its
hollows? Do it
for them.

NaPoMo Day 12 Poem

2011-04-15T07:29:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Watermelon Shame

The way my daddy slices you open,
sharp metal sawing the rind of you.
She is asking for it, he says. Look
at the way she blushes inside, seeds
choked with juice. See how the ants
can feel her opening, the beetles, watch
them dance toward her sugary flesh.
I do not want this slaughtered
sweetness, the swelling bright
of you weighing on my jaw,
my hands, sinking into my molars.
Drink, son, let her waters run
from your lips until they turn
red. She has been waiting.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 11 Poem

2011-04-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

We don't want this

stinking sweet cement
beneath our feet. We do
not want this birthday
cake let it dance in the
rain until the green
of its icing runs
into the sewers, drips
down, falls down like
our mother, the day her
knees gave as she pulled
our favorite cake from
the oven, the day her recipe
card found the pocket
between the hutch
and the cracked
molding. We don’t see
it again until we re-paint.
We don’t see her again.
No, we do not want this
cowboy world on a thread,
and we can’t sing
worth a damn.

NaPoMo Day 14 Translation

2011-04-14T09:24:00.000-07:00

This one was fun to translate, because I had heard the song lots of times but never really verbalized the meaning. What an awesome, weird premise.

The Chocolate Woman
Olivia Ruiz
from The Chocolate Woman

Size my hips with the axe
I ate too much chocolate
Crack my skin, if you like
Crack my bones, if you must

It’s a time of great metamorphosis

On the edge of my tiny breasts
Penetrating, pointed and plump
Two nuts, crack! You eat them

It’s a time of great metamorphosis

On the edge of my parted lips
grows a red silver raspberry
Could you kiss me to cut it?

Knead my hips with kisses
I become the chocolate woman
Let my hips melt Nutella
The blood that runs in me is hot chocolat

One day I’m going to fly away
To cross the sky to force it to swell…
And I’ll yawn lighting
A comet planted between the teeth
But on the earth, waiting
I transform into the chocolate woman

Size my hips with the axe
I ate too much chocolate…

NaPoMo Day 13 Translation

2011-04-13T09:05:00.000-07:00

The return home
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

There’s a man from Brittany who returns to his mother country
After having done several bad things
He walks past the factories of Douarnenez
He doesn’t recognize anyone
No one recognizes him
He is very sad.
He enters a creperie to eat crepes
But he can’t eat them
He has something that stops them from passing
He pays
He leaves
He lights a cigarette
But he can’t smoke it
There is something
Something in his head
Something bad
He is more and more sad
And suddenly he remembers:
Someone told him when he was small
“You will finish on the scaffold”
And through the years
He never dared do anything
Not even cross the road
Not even go to sea
Nothing absolutely nothing
He remembers
The one who predicted all this was his uncle Gresillard
Uncle Gresillard who carried unhappiness to everyone
Oh man!
And the man from Brittany thinks of his sister
Who works at Vaugirard
Of his brother killed in war
Thinks of all the things he has seen
All the things he has done.
The sadness tightens around him
He tries anew
To light a cigarette
But he does not want to smoke
So he decides to go to his Uncle Gresillard’s house
He goes there
He opens the door
The uncle doesn’t recognize him
But he recognizes him
And he says
“Hello uncle Gresillard”
And then he twists his neck
And he finishes on the scaffold in Quimper
After having eaten two dozen crepes
And smoked one cigarette.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 10 Poem

2011-04-12T21:10:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Foxhead

The sailor’s hand moves
like a current, flashing bristles
through the fur of his pet
foxhead. On a surfaced submarine,
he strokes cold teeth against
his fox’s mounted scalp.
A small white cat sneers, calms,
sniffs the fox. The man’s beard
is pushing wiry hairs toward the sea.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 9 Poem

2011-04-12T21:07:00.001-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Poem done and intensely personal. But here's the title:

Letter to the black bear who put his paw on my shoulder during a sad time

NaPoMo 2011 Day 8 Poem

2011-04-12T21:00:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Prompt: poem answers the question ‘what is the girl going to saw?’ It must also include the action of sawing and the separation of what has been sawed.

I ask the little girl in a plaid dress what she is going to do with her saw

NaPoMo 2011 Day 12 Translation

2011-04-12T20:08:00.000-07:00

The Dunce
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

He says no with the head
But he says yes with the heart
He says yes to what he loves
He says no to the professor
He stands
We question him
And all the problems are posed
Suddenly laughter takes him
And he erases everything
The digits and the words
The dates and the names
The sentences and the traps
And despite the teacher’s warnings
Under the boos of child prodigies
With multicolored chalk
On the black chalkboard of unhappiness
He draws the face of happiness.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 7 Poem

2011-04-12T19:55:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Poem for my friend

They say you are the mosquito, friend,
wings beaten and heart small
all proboscis and no bite.
Little fly, they want to know
why you think you are a crane.
Let them bait you, friend, with the pulse
of white heat beneath their skin. They crave
the tickle of your mouthparts
working their skin. They wish
to become dragonflies, wish to hunt
and smear you.

Friend, you are the bike. Pedal driven and human
powered. Your frame the center of gravity, rotating
on a piercing axle. If you must support this load, friend,
you must find someone to clean your chain, your spokes,
your sprockets. Someone to keep you suspended, keep you
from rusting.

Friend, they say you are the pagoda, attracting
lightning because you were made too high. What
do they know of your structure? What do they
know of the charge that pulls you up, up, up?

You are the lotus, friend, that the pagoda
represents. Not the flower but the plant. Men
disagree about where your family should belong.
Why must they refuse to let you live this terrestrial
life, friend, just because you choose to sit on the surface?

NaPoMo Day 7-11 Translations

2011-04-12T13:10:00.000-07:00

Catching up now. Translations here. Poems to come.

Day 7
Immense and Red
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

Immense and red
Beneath the Grand Palais
The winter sun appears
And disappears
Like it my heart will disappear
And all my blood will go
Go to look for you
My love
My beauty
And find you
There where you are.

Day 8
The garden
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

Thousands and thousands of years
Will not be enough
To explain
The little eternal second
When you kissed me
When I kissed you
One morning under the winter light
At Montsouris Park in Paris
In Paris
On the earth
The earth which is a star.

Day 9
(took some definite liberties with this one)
Song
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

What day are we
We are all the days
My friend
We are all our lives
My love
We love each other and we live
We live and we love each other
And we don’t know what is but life
And we don’t know what is but the day
And we don’t know what is but love.

Day 10
Breakfast
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

He put the coffee
In the cup
He put the milk
In the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
In the coffee with milk
With the teaspoon
He turned
He drank the coffee with milk
And he put down the cup
Without talking to me
He lit
A cigarette
He had a discussion
With the smoke
He put the ashes
In the ashtray
Without talking to me
Without looking at me
He got up
He put
His hat on his head
He put on
His raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
Under the rain
Without one word
Without looking at me
And me, I took
My head in my hand
And I cried.

Day 11
You are going to see what you are going to see
Jacques Prévert
from Paroles
French version here

A nude girl swims in the sea
A bearded man walks on water
Where is the wonder of wonders
The miracle announced most loudly?

NaPoMo Day 6 Translation

2011-04-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

Turns out, translating is hard. It was easy to figure out I wanted to try to translate a song. It was hard to choose a song I felt I could translate. I have to say, though, as overwhelming as this is, I'm having a blast. I know I'm taking liberties with some of these translations. Playing with tone, with what tone I have interpreted. I am learning that a good translation is rarely literal. I just hope I'm not mucking up the original work too badly.

Toi + Moi
Grégoire
from Toi + Moi
Have a listen here

You plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her and all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on let’s go, let’s be reckless

Close to a thousand, I know we can do it
Everything is possible everything is doable
We can run much higher than our dreams
We can go much farther than the strike

Oh you plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her plus all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on let’s go it’s our lucky day

With desire, power and courage
The cold, the fear are nothing but mirages
Let unhappiness fall for once
Come on let’s go, re-find yourself with me

Oh you plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her and all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on let’s go and be reckless

I know it’s true my song is naïve
Even a little stupid, but not offensive
And even if it doesn’t change the world
It invites you to get into the discussion

Oh you plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her and all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on let’s go it’s our lucky day

Hope enthusiasm make everything we need
My arms my heart my shoulders and my back
I want to see the stars in your eyes
I want to see us smiling and happy

Oh you plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her and all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on let’s go and be reckless

Oh you plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her plus all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on let’s go it’s our lucky day

Oh you plus me plus them plus all of those who want it
Plus him plus her plus all who are alone
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance
Come on, let’s go and get into the dance

NaPoMo 2011 Day 6 Poem

2011-04-06T20:57:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:
Prompt: Think of 10 interesting cosmic questions that the chicken can ask the girl. The poem is not the questions. The poem is you answering the questions.

Young girl responds to the questions of a chicken on house arrest as she smokes a cigarette

The meaning of life? You are not meant to know. The meaning is
not in the sauce, or on the table. You won’t know until you can see

past the fire. True love? It’s waiting for you, beneath a briefcase
in a terminal in Chicago. It’s been flattened into garlic skin. Press

it against your chest. Love is an iron-on transfer. You want to know
if the sun and moon are in love, who is in the sky. The answer is old
light.

You or the egg? Toss a coin.

You ask if you will be able
to conceive. In the future
you will pull the corners
of your child and zoom in.
You will sell this technology
to every dentist in the country.

Of course Colbert is a better lay.

I don’t know much about good health,
but I saw a special on extreme coupon
clippers once.

You can still be a good parent, all juke
and no bite. Your kids will cleave
the world.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 5 Translation

2011-04-06T09:53:00.000-07:00

Paris at Night
Jacques Prevert
from Paroles
French version here

Three matches one by one illuminated in the night
The first to see your face in its entirety
The second to see your eyes
The last to see your mouth
And the darkness all around to remind me of all of these
While holding you in my arms

NaPoMo 2011 Day 5 Poem

2011-04-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:
Prompt: Write a poem in triolet form

Accouchement

How proud they were to show the stained mattress
the day I wasn’t born; they had to support each other
with straps and breath. To pose the cradle on mother’s back –
how proud they were! To show the stained mattress,
five women, ready to sanitize, ready for striking matches,
held tightly to each other, wanting to tell my mother
how proud they were. To show the stained mattress,
the day I wasn’t born, they had to support each other.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 4 Translation

2011-04-06T09:49:00.000-07:00

Writing Page
Jacques Prevert
from Paroles
French version here

Two and two four
four and four eight
eight and eight make sixteen
Repeat! says the teacher
Two and two four
four and four eight
eight and eight make sixteen.
But there is the lyrebird
who passes in the sky
the child sees him
the child hears him

the child calls him
Save me
play with me
bird!
So the bird descends
and plays with the child

two and two four
Repeat! says the teacher
and the child plays
the bird plays with him
four and four eight
eight and eight make sixteen
and sixteen and sixteen what do they make?
They don’t make anything sixteen and sixteen
and above all not thirty-two
anyway
they leave
And the child has hidden the bird
in his desk
and all the children
hear his song
and all the children
hear the music
and eight and eight leave when it’s their turn
and four and four and two and two
get out of there when it’s their turn
and one and one make neither one nor two
one and one leave equally
And the lyrebird plays
and the child sings
and the teacher yells:
When you have finished clowning
But all the other children
listen to the music
and the walls of the class
crumble quietly
and the windows turn back into sand
the ink turns back into water
the desks turn back into trees
the chalk turns back into cliff
the feather pen turns back into bird

NaPoMo 2011 Day 4 Poem

2011-04-06T09:48:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

They would follow you anywhere

Penguins.
sixteen of them. They shuffled down the city
sidewalk with you every day on your way to
school, wings tucked, beaks facing cement. The
penguins never made a sound.

Some questioned where they came from, others
wondered why you. Was it the lilac in your hair?
Your black and white Mary Janes? When you got
to school, they waited at the curb. They never
whined, never pitched. Just sat in silence, staring
at your window, until they heard that bell.

They found a home in you, and then you grew.
Turned into a creased woman who wore her hair
like a helmet. Now you wear your skin like a tux.
This is what they taught you, before they turned back
into water. Their beaks into stone.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 3 Translation

2011-04-06T09:44:00.000-07:00

Alicante
Jacques Prevert
from Paroles
French version here

An orange on the table
Your dress on the carpet
And you in my bed
Soft present of the present
Freshness of the night
Warmth of my life

NaPoMo 2011 Day 3 Poem

2011-04-06T09:42:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

Mirror Cinquain

Love puts
down her gloves. Time
for a new sport. Careful
with the neck, she folds a crane, crafts
haiku.

Monday
she will lift the veil. Make a wish
on one thousand pretty,
curling sheets of
paper.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 2 Translation

2011-04-06T09:39:00.000-07:00

For you, my love
Jacques Prevert
from Paroles
French version here

I went to the bird market
And I bought birds
For you
My love
I went to the flower market
And I bought flowers
For you
My love
I went to the iron market
And I bought chains
Heavy chains
For you
My love
And I went to the slave market
And I searched for you
But I did not find you
My love

NaPoMo 2011 Day 2 Poem

2011-04-06T09:36:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

And when you die, the sky will be bright blue

Not gray, like you’d imagined, but the kind
of blue that could make you pull over
and angle your self over the dash
to have a look. You don’t know it’s coming.
No one knows it’s coming. Your ’02 Taurus mangling
a fresh water lake, the lace of your just-washed cami hooked
over a rotting branch, the dirt they will push over your coffin.
These are the things that do not fit. The sky is the most
surprising, though, that blue. It will hit you, the way a kid
smoking a cigarette would, all stubby fingers and too-adult
face. They say the nails are the first to go. Just fingers, just
toes.

NaPoMo 2011 Day 1 Translation

2011-04-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

To paint the portrait of a bird
Jacques Prevert
from Paroles
French version here

First, paint a cage
with an open door
next paint
something nice
something simple
something beautiful
something useful
for the bird
next place the canvas next to a tree
in a garden
in the woods
or in a forest
hide behind the tree
without saying anything
without moving…
Sometimes the bird comes quick
but he can very well also take long
years
before he decides.
Don’t be discouraged
wait
wait, if you must, for years
the speed or the slowness of the bird’s
arrival
doesn’t have anything to do
with the success of the picture
When the bird arrives
if he arrives
observe the most profound silence
wait for the bird to enter the cage
and when he is inside
lightly close the door with the brush
then
erase one by one all the bars
being careful not to touch any
of the bird’s feathers
Do the painting of the tree next
leaving the best of its branches
for the bird
paint also the green foliage and the
freshness of air
the dust of the sun
and the sound of bugs in the grass in the
heat of summer
and then wait to see if the bird decides to
sing
if the bird doesn’t sing
it’s a bad sign
a sign that the painting is bad
but if he sings it’s a good sign
a sign that you can sign it
so very gently tear off
one of the bird’s feathers
and sign your name in a corner of the painting

NaPoMo 2011 Day 1 Poem

2011-04-06T09:18:00.000-07:00

Photo from Black & WTF Photos:

How to trap a porcelain pig

Start with an umbrella,
open it inside.

When piggy banks still looked like pigs
(not the rounded, perked-ear, pastel
ones we have today), you almost couldn’t tell
what was porcelain, what apricot flesh.

Spread three letters beneath the umbrella.
They must be red stamp sealed, or the pig
will not give.

If a younger sibling marries before
the older, the older must dance
in a trough for luck. Some keep the pig
trough stockings. Some never get past
the omen.

Put on your best Sunday hat. Remember, lean
pigs come quick for smiles and stockinged
legs. Hold fast to two of the umbrella’s ribs,
pull out, then up. The pig is there, moving
with your breath. Exhale, and the umbrella’s
folds bury him. But on the inhale, he is yours.

NaPoMo 2011

2011-04-06T06:46:00.000-07:00

Hey! It's National Poetry Month, which means I'll be writing a poem a day!

Last year I fell off track right around day 26, when I tried to write a poem about a sensitive carpenter.

This year, to get me through to day 30, I have a plan. The first part of this plan: keep track of my efforts on this blog. I might not get to post every day, but I hope to post all 30 by the end of April.

The second element of this plan is inspiration. I didn't have a muse last year, and I struggled with topics. This year, I've got a crapload of black & wtf photos to keep me going. I chose my favorite 30 from the batch. Each day, a new photo, a new poem. I might stick to the thirty I chose, or I might branch out. Who knows? Black and wtf photos has a new one up every day.

Oh, I almost forgot. I'll also be translating a poem a day from French to English. So far, I've only translated Jacques Prevert. His language is simple, and his poetry is beautiful. It's a good fit for me. Still, holla if you want me to attempt a translation of your favorite French poem, and I'll do my best.

I leave you with two of my new favorite poems, from incredibly talented poets who I saw read at Drew University:

"For Estefani Lora, Third Grade, Who Made Me A Card" by Aracelis Girmay
"Who Says the Eye Loves Symmetry" by Pat Rosal

Poem for Lady Gaga, whose art inspires this little monster to create

2011-03-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

Teeth

Take a bite of my bad girl meat,
you said, how were we to know the cost?
Show me your teeth.
I want to, but they are gone.

We shredded carrots,
radish, pickled
beets for garnish, lay your flesh
beside. Salted
the wound. Shared bites
of your bad girl meat.

The next morning they are gone.
I dreamt they fell from my mouth
like quarters from a porcelain pig.
My carpet’s speckled with enamel,
my tongue curious,
all those hollows.

I should have had more
calcium, prepared
for you, read the research
on bad girl meat. I’m lucky.
The others lost fingernails,
cartilage, entire bones.

Take a bite of my bad girl meat,
You, always ordering, knowing
We will listen. Show me your teeth.
I sleep with mouth open. Maybe they will return.

Sadness

2010-02-17T12:18:00.000-08:00

Lucille Clifton, you will be missed. You were truly an amazing voice in American poetry, and you have had a great influence on me. I will always be grateful I had the chance to see you read. Maybe in another life I'll get to ask you about that fox.

On Cooking

2010-02-12T09:10:00.000-08:00

I frickin love it. I've been pseudo-foodie lately, trying out every dish I can think of. My Thanksgiving dinner was out of this world. As I took a bite of my pumpkin pie (for which I didn't use a recipe, thank you very much), I proclaimed in a falsetto singsong voice, "I am a goddess!" My grandfather, a notoriously picky eater, told me it was the best pumpkin pie he's ever had. I mean, the man is my grandfather. He's had a lot of pumpkin pie.

Wednesday night I made my first homemade tomato sauce and wanted to make the same proclamation.

I float my own boat sometimes, but other times my culinary adventures end in disaster. The pumpkin pizza anyone? The attempt at pan-fried chickpeas? The reeses pieces brownies that turned out like sheetrock - which is apparently what happens when you scale the recipe down by 4 but spread the mixture in the same size baking sheet?

The point is, I've got some real talent, but I need lots of training.

Anyone know of a good vegetarian culinary training seminar? I'm looking for about a week, anywhere is fine. It won't do me much good to learn how to bone a duck if I'm never going to use that skill, you know?

Things that give me a happy, busy afternoon at work edition

2010-01-27T12:27:00.000-08:00

the assaulting, scrumptious aroma of an orange after your thumbnail punctures its skin

and Olivia Ruiz singing "La Femme Chocolat":

Regarding the previous post

2009-11-19T11:40:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I'll admit, I just read about 400 awesome things. That's all they had on the site so far. And man, my 5 were pretty lame.

So here are some better ones:

-The feeling you get in your stomach at the top of the roller coaster

-When you are immediately connected to a real person, and not a recording on the phone

-Pretending you're asleep and fooling the other person!

-Scraping just enough PB or mayo out of the jar to make a sandwich

Also, I decided it was my civic duty to share this with you, because it totally rocks!

Something Awesome

2009-11-19T09:30:00.001-08:00

Postsecret just turned me onto this website 1,000 Awesome Things.

So far, I've only gotten through four of them, but I'm hooked. It's a great website to look at right around Thanksgiving, isn't it?

My fave so far: When your nose is dripping and someone hands you a tissue.

Well, I'd say I'm inspired.

Here are five things that I think are hella awesome. Let's see if they're on the list of 1,000 somewhere.

5. The moment when everything suddenly calms down. I'm thinking specifically of when I got off the train from Paris to Lisieux last year. Everything was so stressful, and then stepping onto the platform was like an instant calm. But this happens all the time! When you check off the last in a loooong series of To-Does at work, when you put the last dish on the drying rack or dishwasher, when the giant tidal wave hits the arc you made for 1 million citizens and everyone survives...you name it!

4. Finding a sweet bit of nostalgia. You know the kind, the one you had almost forgotten, then it comes into your mind but no one knows what the hell it is, and you can't explain it very well anyway, so you begin to think maybe you created it too, but then one day it up and slaps you in the face. That one. For me, it's finding Garfield's Halloween Adventure or Dr. Quandary's Island. I'm still looking for episodes of Baywatch that featured scary things like vampires and ghosts.

3. Families we make for ourselves.

2. Falling in love, and having that person love you the same way.

1. My all-time favorite feeling in the world: When you wake up and look at the alarm clock and realize you still have one hour to sleep. I actually used to beg someone I knew who worked overnights to call me at like 4am so I could wake up and then go back to sleep!

I was going to criticize 1,000 Awesome Things for being a bit overblown with the writing, but I'm realizing now that that's just a side effect of raving about things that make you feel good!

Why people scare me

2009-11-06T07:56:00.000-08:00

I typed "is" into google today, hoping to ask the wise internet world if I could get away with dropping an apostrophe (which, I know, is sinful most of the time, but it turns out it was OK in this case).

The problem is that google predictor gave me this:

Yes, the volume of people who care so much about celebrity gossip is scary. But what's exponentially more horrifying to me is that 4 of the results question the sex organs of successful women.

Let's be clear: when people ask if Lady Gaga is a "hermaphrodite" (which, by the way, is a horribly offensive and inaccurate term) or if Wendy Williams is a man, they are specifically asking about what organs they have in their pants. No, people are not asking about their sexualities. They're not asking about their gender expressions, since both clearly express themselves as feminine. The people who ask these questions assume they have the right to know about these public figures' biology.

And why? Why should it matter to anyone? Lady Gaga is an incredibly talented, extremely successful pop artist. Wendy Williams is a well-known radio and TV personality who is also quite successful despite, or perhaps because of, her controversial brash reporting style.

These two women are powerful. They have notoriety because of what they do. Not because of their sex. I think this world would be a better place if these googlers would rephrase their searches. My suggestions:

-Is hermaphrodite an offensive term?
-What are the meanings of transvestite, transgender, transsexual, intersex, etc,?
-When is Lady Gaga's new CD coming out?
-What channel is Wendy Williams' show on?
-Is it OK to drop an apostrophe after a business name?

Basically, anything that actually educates us and doesn't feed into this inane obsession with celebrity lives and body parts. Or, you can read this article by Carrie Polansky that articulates part of the reason I felt so uncomfortable looking at the search prediction. It's because of this weird media storm that happened after a video of Lady Gaga in a short skirt was released. I think the genius of the article is that Carrie urges us not to care about the video or Gaga's alleged (not confirmed) response, but how incredibly disrespectful the coverage was.

Of course after I noticed what the predictions were for the word "is," I had to try some other ones.

Here's what I saw when I typed "why" (keyword Pakistani - this one is so terrifying I don't even know where to begin:

And here's the result for "what" (keyword strawberries - ...............?):

Seriously, people, seriously?

disheartened

2009-11-05T08:42:00.001-08:00

corzine lost.

phillies lost.

equal rights in maine lost.

boo to this week.

<3

2009-11-02T06:05:00.001-08:00

see more dog and puppy pictures

After a long, postless absence

2009-11-02T06:03:00.001-08:00

I just want to say, I have the best friends in the world, who keep me very busy, and two exciting new jobs that give me lots of entertaining stories. Sorry for my absence, but I've really been livin' it up.

Camping v.2.0

2009-07-21T07:32:00.000-07:00

I just got back from an awesome two-day camping extravaganza for Rachel's birthday. It rocked. There were ghost stories, swimming, barbecues, smores, and all around good times. My hoodie smells like the tent, and my water bottle still tastes like firewood. I couldn't be more satisfied. I hope Rach feels the same way!

OMFG

2009-06-08T12:44:00.001-07:00

There's a new Quentin Tarantino movie. Brad Pitt is in it. It's about Nazi-occupied France. Holy. Eff.

Happiness is:

2009-05-17T08:55:00.000-07:00

Camping with good friends and a firemaster:

And a friend getting a new kitten who is so adorable it's worth taking claritin every four hours for the next 15 years of your life:

:)

Anyone who reads this probably noticed I dropped off

2009-05-15T09:27:00.000-07:00

mostly cause it's been a little strange to be back and I don't know where to start.

So I leave you with this hilarious baby...

Welcome to America.

2009-05-07T08:40:00.001-07:00

Your tax return from 2007 is being audited and your cell phone service has been cut and you have a disgusting bill to worry about. You have to start paying your car and auto insurance retroactively as soon as possible. You have no health insurance. Being in your parents house makes you want to snack on processed junk food every thirty minutes. Your bedroom is le basard. You need work.

Though I feel so overwhelmed sometimes I can't think, it is way more satisfying than I imagined to see my friends, yellow school buses, grape jelly, Tapan and my family. I never noticed before how many American flags hang outside of houses or how many people wear fanny packs (thank you very much for that image, Chicago airport). It is good to be home, and I'm sure this debt/credit problem will be handled quickly.

Here's hoping.

Whelmed

2009-04-27T04:02:00.000-07:00

Next week I'll be home.

Last week I felt like I wasn't ready. I don't think I realized how quickly the leaving part would sneak up on me.

This weekend I went to Jersey with Emilien and 40 people he works with. It was fun most of the time, but some of the time I felt like this huge awkward outsider imposter person. I don't feel much like going into it here on the interwebs, but it made me realize that, yeah, I'm a bit tired of being the foreigner. I'm excited to come home to my country, speak in my language with people who will understand my slang, cultural jokes, nostalgic references. And I'll get theirs.

This week I'm having goodbye dinners with my colleagues and my friends. It's such a strange, indescribable feeling that I have. All this month I've watched the lasts roll in. Last time I'll see Fabien, last concert in France, last book rental from the medi@theque, last Friday class, last vacances, last grocery shopping. Soon I'll have my last paycheck, last dinner with my friends, last hair wash under my two-minute long shower, last weekend in Paris, last look at French stars. What will the final footfall in France, just before I board the plane, feel like? What will happen in my stomach when I hear my final announcement in French, and this time understand every word?

And what will my life be like in a month? Will I still be able to watch French movies with no subtitles? Understand song lyrics? How long does it take to lose a language? Will I see my colleagues again someday? What if one day I call them on the phone and am not able to understand their French?

You can see I'm a ball of nerves and conflicting emotions. My solution? Take advantage of the last days of my contract. And hope that these lasts are only lasts for this period in my life. Someday I'll come back here and make all new firsts and lasts. There's no doubt in my mind.

Going to the aaaaaatlantic!

2009-04-09T07:07:00.000-07:00

Yeah, that's right. To all my Jersey shore peeps out there, I'm going to send you a big fat wave from the other coast of our ocean. Saturday. If you live nearby and the weather's nice, I encourage you to go to the beach. I'll be at this beach, looking at this view (image here):

Technically, I'll be on the coast of the bay that empties (flows? runs? eff geography)into the Atlantic, but that's good enough for me. I mean, there are already something like 3900 kms separating me from the other coast; who am I to complain about the distance of a tiny bay too?

It's another two-week paid vacation and this time I'm not bored out of my mind. I've got a new friend with a motorcycle and a desire to show me cool things about France and French culture. My best friend here (who was away the last vacances) is staying in town and open to traveling with me (that's us in the photo on the beach at Trouville). And most importantly, I'm feeling the crunch. I know I've gotta see stuff, and I know I've gotta see it now. Because, though my heart tells me I'll be back to France many times, my brain and the economic crisis warns me that one is never sure, and that I need to seize the opportunity I have to see this country now, while the language is fresh and I've nothing else to do.

So, this weekend La Baule; next weekend...? I'm thinking Strasbourg or maybe Provence. I so would love to go there before I leave. The weekend after I'm going to Jersey! Dream fulfilled! The weekend after that I'll be in Paris. And the weekend after that...get ready...

Are you ready for this?

The weekend after that I'll be in New Jersey.

(I can't write anymore cause I'm too busy cleaning the pieces of my exploded head out of my keyboard.)

Fail

2009-04-04T07:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I did decide to fail.

It's day four of the National Poetry Month poem-a-day challenge, and I've written exactly one so far. Last year I rocked it - thirty poems by the end of April - but this year I feel unmotivated. Also, my time in France is bittersweetly coming to an end, and I don't much feel like having a reminder of the time gone by every day. So I'm sitting this one out.

But you should go see what Rachel's been up to, cause it's awesome.