Honor Where Honor is Due.

Mad props to Shelly, Nicolas, Noah and Steve O for their help with my "photo shoot." For my photography class, I have to tell 3 stories. Each story can only have 5 frames. We shot a romantic/sensual story and a fight sequence. The pictures turned out great! I'll have to post the stories on imagestation (my photo site) once I'm done editing. Gotta love photoshop. Thanks again everyone!
Steve O and Nicolas as Superheros. Steve O is holding sai - they were randomly laying around the guy's apartment.

Noah and Shelly. Noah made an excellent villian. Who knew the innocent looking blond kid would have so much evil in him.

Nicolas and Shelly. Shelly steals this photo (in my opinion). I love the look on her face. On the other hand, Nicolas looks a bit creepy/sleezy.

Random Acts of Kindness

I went to the Post Office today. I needed to purchase a box to mail Charise's birthday present. At the payment counter, I miscounted my change. The cashier smiled. She politely told me that I needed 25 cents more. Blonde moment. As I searched my wallet for more change, she pipped up: "actually, right here is an extra quarter. I'll just put that in for you."

She didn't have to do that. The gesture was so simple but so appreciated. I smiled. I didn't know what else to say, so I thanked her and left. Wow. A random act of kindness can make your day. Adieu.

Dictionaries and Inn People

It's 2:30 sunday morning. I'm doing the cool thing: reading the dictionary. Late night TV is on. Last night I watched Fight Club. Last weekend I did the uncool thing and "went out." As designated driver, I got to sit around drinking water with ice cubes. Rock on. There was live jazz and interesting, if somewhat drunk, conversations. It was good to see all those Inn people again. Everyone rehashed old times and told stories. Being the youngin of the group, it was like we were all working at the Inn again ... except Eric wasn't there to make snide comments about cookies and milk. Sigh. Ah, the good old days. I hated the Inn.


A roommate moment caught on film at the Lion Shire (this was after our jazz experience ... there was a line of people waiting to sit on the Lion). I'm going to miss Mander!

Joining the Circus

I take life too seriously. I have heard that there is a circus school is Montreal. Perhaps I should send a letter of inquiry. I have double-jointed toes - that alone should make me circus material. As soyouwanna.com tells me, "if you join the circus, you'll inherit a very special family of weirdos." Hmm. Sounds enticing.

So I quit my Arabic lover ... err class. Actually, I didn't quit the course. It ended the other day. Cool stuff that Arabic language is. Word to the wiser than me: it shouldn't be simultaneous with two other courses. I guess if I were uber-motivated or gifted with an unwillingness to sleep, I would have had no problem. But sleep becomes me. I've fallen into the go to bed late/get up late routine again. It rocks!

Just to throw it out there, any opinions on Israel at moment? How about the Presidential veto on federal funding for embryonic stem cell research? (... note that the key word is "federal.") Anyone?

Aesthetics.

Evidently I did something right with my paper on Chez Appolinaire vs. Chez Breton: a 10 page debate on surrealism that I wrote in French. I believe I mentioned it in a past blog. Anyway, I got an A- in the class! I didn't even have an editor which is why I'm relatively surprised.

I received a B+ on the paper I had an editor for - go figure. Actually, I would have hated to see the grade had I not had some grammar help. My entire grade was based on one paper. One paper! The crazy Sorbonne. Of course, I was freaking out at the time. I spent nearly every waking moment for a week in the library reseraching. And writing the bloody thing was a mess. I am SO gratiful to Fanny for editing!!! You've helped me out so much.

But back to the Aesthetics course. It was a fun class. One of the few literature classes that I've taken AND enjoyed. Plus who doesn't love a crazy and intelligent professor? I usually find that lit classes are fueled by BS and contain little original thought. ... although I admit that there is only so much that can be said about some pieces of literature. I guess it's the same in history classes. A lot of BS and little creativity. Jumping back to my Sorbonne history class - it's the only class where I've ever seen/heard an historical arguement between the prof and students or even between the students themselves. I was impressed.

On other news, Arts Fest was this weekend. In other words, it was an excuse for Alumni to come back and get drunk. For a photo assignment, I photographed people at the festival. I had fun talking to the people I photographed. Most were incredibly nice and told stories or offered advice. Good times. There was a lot of modern sculpture art. I enjoyed looking, but nothing was in my price range. When I'm rich ... haha.

Bathroom Incident

I'm sure other people have locked themselves in bathrooms. I'm sure others have had to crawl out from under a jammed stall. I'm sure I'm not the only one.

So today, I used the restroom during my Arabic class. No big deal. Except when I went to exit the stall, I couldn't. The lock on the door was stuck. I tried with all my little might to unlock it. The door wouldn't budge. I tried rattling it. I pounded on it. I did a full body slam. Nothing. Someone came into the bathroom. I thought about asking for help, but I was too embarassed. The person quickly left anyway. She probably thought I was psycho.

As you might have guessed, I lay on the floor and wiggled under the door. Thank God I'm not fat or I might still be in there. It was a tight fit.

On other news, I watched the movie Not on the Lips (Pas Sur La Bouche) this afternoon. It's a quirky french operetta set during the 1920s. Yes, Audrey Tautou is in it, but don't watch the film because of her. THE REASON to watch it is to laugh and to smile. One of the best characters is a loud American gentleman who speaks French with a horrible flat accent. Ah, I can only hope that my French doesn't sound as bad! :) Anyway, it made me laugh. Go watch it. Buy some pretzels. Cuddle up with someone you love ... which in my case, pertained to the apartment cats Franky and Chrissie.

... what craziness will do to a person.

The Color of Hunger

*To appease Amanda: A warning for those repulsed by bodily fluids, this entry mentions puke.

Brown. Brown with a hint of goldenrod. This is the color of hunger. This is the color the stomach feels as it aches for food. Brown and aching.

Some might call me racist for thinking this. They might say I'm implying that only people of color who live in third world countries experience the aching brown of hunger. They might say that I'm blind to what is going on in my own backyard. Perhaps I am blind. Perhaps I do not always see the truth before my eyes, but I am not ignorant. I am not ignorant of the fact that a lot of the kinds who got free lunches in my elementary school probably went to bed hungry on more than one occasion. I am not ignorant of local families who would rather buy drugs and twinkies rather than juice or carrots for their offspring. Looking back, I remember who those hungry kids were. There were indications which I was too young to pick up on at the time.

But back to the brown. In that English hospital, when I had nothing left in my system, my bile was brown and yellow. Not pretty to think about. But when you're hungry and your degestive system contains nothing but a little bile, it's brown. Brown hunger rests in the pit of the stomach.

I pray that I am not blind to the color of hunger.

Lovesick

Right now, the only thing I want in this world is a tomato and mozzarella panini.

Life, Liberty and The Pursuit of Happiness

"When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. --That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security."

This passage of the Declaration of Independence moves me every time I read it. The words are inspiring. A rebel tale of revolutionary proportions. I make heroes of the writers. The world needs such people.

Relationship Update

It's about 3:30 Monday morning. This is the second all-nighter I've pulled since meeting Arabic. He is a hard person to please and I fear that I may not live up to standards. I have an exam in 5 hours. Argh. Never again will I mention the difficulties of French. I miss French and all the French love.

Too bad Arabic isn't a real person ... I have some internal language frusteration that I need to vent and what could be better than taking it out on a native speaker! Well actually, I already know the outcome of that conversation ... I would lament the hardness of learning Arabic and he would reply with a "I learned English." Bloody English. I've read/been told that English is indeed a hard language to learn (and it evidently is, as I still cannot correctly speak). Why doesn't the American elementary/high school education system force students to learn languages! Ah yes, I remember why: because we're a superpower and the world comes to us. Therefore we should not have to learn anything about the world outside our boarders. ... I forgot about that little detail.

Anyway, I should probably get back to my Arabic lover. He's probably feeling lonely. We've spent a lot of time together lately. And i can only hope for more *good times* together. Rock on with the language love.

Bastard

I have never thought of myself as a bastard. The word is a rather overused vuglarity. Webster's Unabridged defines bastard as: "something that is spurious, irregular, inferior, or of questionable origin; one born out of wedlock : an illegitimate child." That's me. Bastard. Someone who is, historically, an outcast. It seems unfair to judge someone because he/she was born to a woman without a wedding ring. A wedding ring does not necessarily indicate love or responsibilty. The ring merely indicates a contract rather than affection. Not that the commitment and the emotion shouldn't go hand-in-hand. I believe that the two things can (and ideally should) conincide ... they just often don't, much to my dismay. So what happened to my natural mother? Did she decide to end a bad or loveless relationship or did she suddenly find herself and her dreams dumped? If it's the former: well, that took a lot of guts. If it's the latter: well, I hope she's better for it. Either way, I can only begin to imagine her pain.

A long time ago I decided I would never allow myself to be forced to marry. No matter the circumstance. No matter the pressure. The history behind my birth is still a mystery. I have no idea what happened or why. I've had several notions over the years ranging from childish fairytale to worst case scenario. I guess I'll never know unless I make an effort to find out. The idea intrigues me.