Film student, tv expert, coffee liker, cookie lover.
I am currently working on a very ~fancy~ academic(ish?) essay on television pacing for my school’s film journal, which is why I haven’t been posting to this blog lately.
Well, that and the fact that I’m a lazy piece of shit. And full of self-doubt.
Anyway, my piece for the journal focuses on Misfits and Pushing Daisies, but sometimes I just want to talk about other TV stuff because I just fucking love TV and what else am I going to talk about on the internet? Rats with teddy bears? Anyway, I’m going to talk about TV now. [insert actual transition here]
As I was watching this week’s Pan Am, I got really pissed off at Laura and Ted and the writers and television in general. Because giving us what, 13.5 episodes of deeply emotional flirting and then 12.5 seconds of THIS look and then mentioning his gay fiancée…well, that’s just a douche move. I know it’s TV, I know I should be used to it after years of watching Castle…but if two people look like they’re about to kiss, I just want them to fucking kiss already. Move it along, kids. Nothing to see here.
On the other side of the spectrum, we have Shameless US, the first season of which I just barreled through in two days. Shameless, uh…well, Shameless doesn’t even bother with the looking. They skip right to the kissing part of Fiona and Steve’s damn sexy foreplay relationship. There’s no gazing, no unrequited love, no will-they-won’t-they. They will. Honestly, it was refreshing. I was so into that scene.
And not just because Emmy Rossum’s hot.
Downton Abbey Never Lets Me Down. Ever.
(I’m going to try very hard to avoid spoilers, which is not my strong suit. But Downton is worth it.)
The Christmas special was the greatest Christmas present of all, including the rad socks I got from my mom. I didn’t hear about its existence until a few days ago, so it was a delightful surprise. And, just as I suspected, it was amazing and made me cry a smidge and was just enough fantasticness to keep me hooked for series 3 (and tide me over until that faraway televisiony mirage of glory and wonder).
(Loljk, I was already hooked. Like a catfish. A stupid catfish with a big mouth.)
There were tears, there was closure, there were fairly interesting independent subplots, there was a bit of laughter, there was a fist fight!
I was actually surprised (and impressed, and also slightly concerned) by how much closure there really was. There are very few loose threads floating around after that special. It seems strange to tie so much up in a Christmas special. But at the same time, it was a blast to watch. Things were happening right and left- things I’ve been wanting to happen for a very long time. If you know what I mean. Ahem-matthewpunchingrichardcarlyle-hem-hem-hem.
All in all, I think it was a great episode. A little gloomy, with the dead people and all the hullaballoo surrounding Bates’ imprisonment and trial and possible execution. But it was the perfect tone of gloominess for a Christmas special. Good cheer in the face of adversity. Coming together against all odds. Love conquering all. Etc.
Also, there was some sweet Ouija board action. JUST SAYING.
Oh, and Thomas is an asshole who needs to be sent home on the first morning train. Along with all the other people who went home on the first morning train. The banished guests of Downton Abbey must fill up a whole car!
Drop Dead Diva Irritates Me
Drop Dead Diva irritates me, but my one vice is religiously watching shows that I hate. It gives me a lot of time to put my finger on the foibles.
Drop Dead Diva is a show with an interesting premise. Perhaps not the best-acted, funniest, most realistic show out there, but it seems like the kind of thing that is fine if it’s your cup of tea. (It’s the story of a model who dies and is sent back to earth as a plus-size lawyer, retaining both the ditziness of her original soul and the brains of her commandeered body. So if you don’t like stereotypical skinny blondes squealing over shoe sales or quirky lawyerly shenanigans, it’s just not going to be your thing. It’s not good enough to reach outside its target audience.)
And since most things (but especially stereotypical skinny blondes squealing over shoe sales and quirky lawyerly shenanigans) are my cup of tea, I enjoyed Drop Dead Diva to some extent.
But it irked me. And one by one, the irksome qualities became clear. There are two things that piss me off when I watch Drop Dead Diva.
First, what the hell is up with Jane (the model-cum-lawyer) and all her facial expressions. Like, all she ever does is gaze longingly at people Grayson. Don’t you think eventually someone would be like, hey Jane, what’s up with your face?
And second, the whole character of Deb (the model before she…cummed-lawyer?) annoys me. And her relationship with Grayson.
Because Deb is, let’s face it, pretty dumb. Maybe I value intelligence too much in romantic relationships, but I don’t understand why Grayson loves/loved her. He’s a smart guy. You’d think he would want someone who could keep up with him intellectually, but no.
He could love her because she’s a good person, but when she dies they specifically say that she’s never done a good or bad deed. She can’t be that good a person.
The only thing that stands out about her is that she’s hot.
Considering that Grayson dated Deb, a woman with no other discernible qualities, and then Kim, a bit of a bitch who (surprise!) is also hot, while completely ignoring Jane, who is essentially Deb but nicer, smarter, and fatter…? I have a really hard time liking him as a character. They used him as a plot device too many times, and he became shallow.
Why Felicity Is Kind Of Terrible (And Why I Still Love It)
So. Felicity is the least J.J. Abrams show that J.J. Abrams has ever made. There are no explosions or mysteries or supernatural enigmas, unless you count the explosion of passion between Elena and Tracy, or the mystery of why people think Julie’s a good musician, or the supernatural enigma of Felicity’s hair. But I’ve never had a problem with works outside the oeuvre, and I’ve been totally obsessed with Felicity for a few weeks. It’s like Gilmore Girls. But without all the adults and banter.
And that’s reason number one why it’s not very good. It’s about 100% feelings. Whereas Gilmore Girls is 70% feelings and 30% hilarity, Felicity just plods along, making sweeping generalizations about life and carefully documenting every emotional epiphany that Felicity has (honestly, how many times can that girl realize how she feels before she runs out of ways to feel??). The humor that there is comes from low-caliber jokes that the characters make. Watching Felicity is like hanging out with a group of reasonably entertaining friends who all sleep with each other constantly, except more irritating because there’s this one girl who won’t stop confessing her feelings to you. It’s exhausting.
But honestly, I don’t think I would have noticed how boring Felicity is, if it hadn’t been for this goddamn love triangle. Felicity just dates Ben and Noel, over and over. She takes a couple breaks for some other guys who, surprise, break up with her because of her feelings for Ben and/or Noel. But mostly it’s just a long game of do-I-love-Ben-do-I-love-Noel-who-do-I-love-what-help-me-I’m-so-lost. It was cute for a while. But seriously.
I’ve only just finished the second season, and this number is probably a little off because I just counted on my fingers real fast, but I’m fairly certain she’s gone back and forth 8 times. That’s 4 times a season. FOUR TIMES A SEASON.
But in spite of it all, Felicity is still queued up on Netflix instant watch. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because it plays to the need to see relationships form. Nobody wants to see the middle, just the first kiss. As annoying as Felicity is, it does give us exactly what we want: a whole bunch of first kisses between ~soul mates~ or whatever. We don’t want to see Felicity kiss guys she’s not that into, or guys we’re not that into. We don’t want to see her kiss Ben or Noel in that we’ve-been-dating-for-two-years-and-I-still-love-you-but-it’s-not-that-exciting way. We just want to see out-of-the-blue first kisses with people we know she’s meant to be with. Felicity has four of those per season (on average).
But there’s also something powerful about seeing someone else having emotional epiphanies, especially when you’re waiting for one yourself. When you’re trying to make a tough decision, or figure out how you feel, or recover from a rough breakup, it’s nice to see a girl who waffles on average four times per season figure out exactly what she wants. It gives you a little hope. Makes you think maybe you can sort out your crazy web of feelings too.
But it’s terrible, and I think I’ll stop watching it soon.
…just as soon as I finish this episode. (I can’t believe Noel got married!)
A nerdy nation wonders what Kim Jong Il’s death means for 30 Rock
Judging by the below extended preview for 30 Rock’s sixth season, the Kim Jong Il subplot will definitely return, with his real-life absence now potentially complicating the storyline. Also, you know, threatening the stability of the region and possibly the world, but mostly this.
Perhaps a “Send Avery Home” campaign is in order? It might distract from the “Save Community” efforts, but it would be worth it to blend television and reality together until nothing is real anymore.
(I’ve made that joke so many times I don’t even know if I’m kidding anymore.)
Dresses covered in sequins/scales…
Dresses with complicated backs…
Pretty soon every costume on Game Of Thrones will be replicated for a collaboration with H&M. It will be like Banana Republic and Mad Men only a million times better because it won’t be boring because there will be FUR and BLOOD on everything.
Awesome or Awful: Grimm
Awesome: David Giuntoli. Da-yum. I also like the cutesy little gimmick they have going. I know it doesn’t really make sense that the wolf man only likes the taste of people who are wearing red hoodies, but hey! It’s clever…ish? Maybe? Sue me, I’m into it.
Awful: Papyrus? Strike one. Also, I am concerned by the limited number of catchy crime-adaptable Grimm fairy tales. And, aside form the whole wolf-man thing (who doesn’t love a friendly albeit slightly douchey wolf man!), it is a little…dull. Usually procedurals start good and then get really incredibly stale in the second or third season. (Like clockwork!) I’m worried this one is already a little tough to chew. Blah blah blah, breaking all the rules, blah blah blah, exasperated but trusting cop friend, blah blah blah child victim, blah blah blah. Blah. It’s like the second or third season of every used-to-be-good procedural that already exists.
The Verdict: A tentative awful. It’s only the pilot, so we’ll hold off on the final judgement until next week. But between the papyrus and the nothing-interesting-happening? I’d say the only thing that even got this show a second chance with me was the amicably rude wolf man. WOLF MAN! I love you, wolf man.
Awesome or Awful: Game of Thrones
Awesome: Tyrion Lannister is my favorite character in the entire world. He’s just so gosh-darn charming and clever. Also, his accent reminds me of Frasier? I don’t know, I haven’t seen Frasier in at least 10 years. But the Lannister imp reminds me of it.
Awful: Does the intro sequence reallllllly need to be almost 2 minutes long? Also the Khaleesi’s outfits are completely absurd. Like if Britney Spears was stranded in the woods and had to make her own costume out of twigs. That absurd.
The Verdict: Awesome. Everyone’s super hot, most of them are wearing sick furs, and there are a bunch of adorable wolves running around saving lives. Oh, and like political intrigue or whatever. WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE.
Pan Am: Still Good, In Case You Were Wondering Two opinions I disagree with: One opinion I agree with: I really do love Pan Am. Mondays are a busy day for me. I’m studying in Paris, so I have class all day and then I run home and pray that the links are up for Downton Abbey. After that obsession is taken care of, I always fangirl out a little, and then I settle in for a nice bedtime viewing of Pan Am. It’s a sweet show. I feel like it’s reliably good. That said, I didn’t like Sunday’s episode (1x05, One Coin In A Fountain) that much. I was kind confused (and I’m a pretty smart girl, so I don’t think it was just me). Copious flashbacks are hardly ever a good idea. When was what happening? Why was it happening? When did he get the ring? Could she really get fingerprints from that glass? Why did she need that specific and extremely expensive green dress? As for stylishness, I get that and I don’t get that. It’s set in the 60s, which areeverybody’s favorite style influencer right now. But on the other hand, compared to Mad Men or even the late Playboy Club or American Dreams, I’m not really feeling Pan Am from a visual point of view. Not only does the title shot (and that irritatingly floaty jingle they play) make me hurl a little bit at the beginning of every episode, I generally feel like I’m always a little underwhelmed by the shots, the sets, even the costumes. I think I’m suffering from too much Mad Men. My standards are too high for network television. But luckily, Pan Am is a legitimately good show, with interesting stories, fine acting, good writing, and likable characters. I sit through that title shot at the beginning of every episode for a reason. You should all watch it if you have any interest in airplanes, the 1960s, or happiness.
I finally got desperate enough to watch a second episode of New Girl.
Good news: It is not nearly as vomit-inducingly awful as the pilot. I especially likes the bit about Caroline’s name because SERIOUSLY. How do you know how to pronounce that name. Carol-ee-n? Carol-eye-n? Carol-in? Stop naming your children that.
Bad news: Zooey Deschanel is still way too twee to be easily bearable, and her supporting characters are still an impressive blend of two-dimensional and inconsistent.
Fall Premiere: The Playboy Club
I know we all got a kick out of riffing on network television’s two Mad Men knockoffs, The Playboy Club and Pan Am (premiering September 25th), but in all honesty? This country totally needed some off-brand Mad Mens.
The Playboy Club is Mad Men for the working man: all of the sex, intrigue and period costumes, none of the long silent shots of Don Draper looking pensive or whatever. Mad Men is serious award fodder, but The Playboy Club is a 60s drama I can really get into. Things actually happen. It’s exciting! It’s sexy! It’s like CSI and Gossip Girl rolled together with a pinch of classy-ass nostalgia.
The pilot was incredibly fun to watch, and I can safely say that I’m hooked. I’m not sure it’ll win any Emmys, but I’d be surprised if it doesn’t become a public favorite. I only hope Pan Am can compete; I want as many sheath dresses and beehives on my telly as possible this season.
Side note: Did anyone else see a connection with ABC’s period family drama American Dreams? The Tina Turner/Karen LeBlanc cameo reminded me of it.
OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT. SIMON TAM IS IN IT AS THE LEADER OF A SECRET HOMOSEXUALS CLUB. Spoiler warning.
Downton Abbey is back!
Well, in the UK, anyway. And in the illicit nooks and crannies of the internet…
My my, Downton Abbey, how you’ve changed. Last season, you were a strange little period soap set in the aftermath of the quaintest, most costume-drama-y disaster ever, the sinking of the Titanic. But now…Downton Abbey, you are different. So brazen! So fast-paced! It’s hard to keep up.
Downton Abbey is back, it’s 1914, and the gang is caught up in various Great War-related capers. Mr. Crawley and Thomas are getting shot at, Sybil is breaking down class barriers (as per usual), and Lord Grantham is having a serious midlife crisis. Mary is pretty much just continuing to be a selfish but lovable bitch, but things are getting juicy there too: Mr. Crawley got an incredibly boring fiancée! (So boring, in fact that I kind of wonder why she’s here…where is the intrigue in a nice girl from modest roots?) (Boring fiancée pictured above.)
About the war, though. I have some reservations about it (both as a global political strategy and as a narrative choice!) It solemns out the series, and it pulls the characters apart geographically. I have faith that the writers won’t do anything stupid, but here is a list of my costume-drama-turned-war-drama-demands:
All that said, I am really really excited for this season. Why? Because SO MANY PEOPLE KISSED IN THIS EPISODE. I loved it. I love kissing. I love this show. Man.
I had this magazine meeting thingy today, and as the editor was talking I took a sip of my coffee and there was a LEAF in it. And he just looked at me and kept talking as I pulled it out of my mouth. Like people swallow leaves all the time.
My new least favorite thing in the world is when I’m playing Hanging With Friends and my finger brushes the f on the way to the e.
There should be a safety on that thing. Who the f guesses f??
I hate it when I’m watching a movie and I’m cold and someone in the movie is in bed ON TOP OF THE COVERS. Like, fuck you movie character. Just rubbing it in my face that this movie is set somewhere temperate. That’s uncalled for.
Last night I had a dream about a bear who had a library in the woods with a horse corpse in it. He killed a bunch of people with botulism. Then he died. Of botulism.
An album cover I made for a mix, for my awesome friend.
THAT FRIEND IS ME. Also I just moved into my student housing this quarter so all my roommates have laminated nametags on the door but NO ONE KNOWS I EVEN LIVE THERE AND IT’S SO SAD I NEVER GET VISITORS HOW WILL PEOPLE KNOW WHICH APARTMENT TO SERENADE. Anyway I’m going to repurpose this if it’s cool with you, other Zoe.
Absent Minded
by Joe Webb
United Kingdom
Print: $35
Check out the rest of the Collage Showdown Finalists here.
I’m a huge Rian Johnson fan … loved Brick and Brothers Bloom.
So yeah, I pretty much geeked out when I saw worlds collide with this pic.
Jesse Thorn, photographed by Rian Johnson, Feb 9, 2012.
It’s everything I love in the world: Rian Johnson, menswear, and a dog.
Carey Mulligan, Tobey Maguire, and Leonardo Dicaprio filming The Great Gatsby in Australia | February 9th, 2012 (x)
Working really hard in spite of my girlfriend who is really pretty and funny and interesting and distracting.
Yeah, he SAYS I’m really distracting but look who’s fooling around on the iPhone.
Actually I said that. I have done all of Forrest’s social media today.
Today was interesting in that everything worked out fine, but after things worked out fine I felt really really terrible about myself anyway.
I’m taking Amtrak and I guess they got wifi while I was over in France riding Eurostar and shit, and that’s awesome because now I can Tumbl on a train.
But this girl across from me is on Skype. Who does that.
I made this 2-minute long take for my film class. It’s funny. You might like it. It’s about the economy. Kind of…? Or vigilante socialism? Or doing the right thing?
kerouacs:#greatest moment in modern cinema fuck you War Horse
I kind of want to see this based purely on how awesome this gif is. (It’s called Runaway, I’ll save you the googling.)
Top Three Holy-Crap-I'm-Home Moments:
A lot of things have changed since August 22nd.
Where vacationing couples used to stroll along the hot sunny quais of the Seine, now only the most water-resistant Parisians walk, the cobblestones covered in puddles and strewn with rotting leaves. Where once there was scaffolding on the building across from me, now there is fresh-washed limestone. The sky has turned from deep summer blue to a variety of steel-grey and aluminum-grey and pewter-grey clouds.
| There are neither leaves nor cobblestones in this picture. But I swear to god it's a thing. |
| You can alllllmost see the baguettes. |
I'm leaving Paris on Friday, and I have a lot of feelings about that. But for now, I want to talk about wandering.
J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote, "Not all those who wander are lost." Well, J.R.R., I think your books need a really overzealous editor, because no one wants to read a description of a forest for 15 pages, and I think you get too much credit for that quote.
No all those who wander are lost? No shit, Sherlock. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think that if you're wandering, you're not lost. Just awesome. You know what people do when they're lost? They cry. The pull out maps. They frantically ask for directions.
Wandering isn't like that. Wandering is poignant and stress-free.
About a week ago, I went to London with my two best France buds, Faith and Erin. We didn't have a whole lot of plans, because we're too cool for that. And we ended up just doing a lot of...well, wandering. It's funny, because if you ask us what we did that weekend, we just kind of shrug. What did we do that weekend? We walked past Buckingham Palace. We climbed some lions. We saw Wicked. We ate Indian food. But there are so many hours in the day, so much time that more driven tourists could have filled with museums and guided tours and whatnot.
| Did I mention we climbed a lion? |
| Nope. |
| Merrily frolicking! |
| The. Best. |
So, I know this is an unpopular opinion, but my favorite part of the Thanksgiving festivities is when everyone sits down and they all have to say what they're thankful for. (Fun fact: "my family" and "this wonderful meal" are super clichéd. Make a little effort, people. Come on.) The opportunity to be in France! Butterflies! These super warm socks! The Black Friday sale at Urban Outfitters! The Hunger Games! Julian Fellowes! That girl who gave me her super awesome pen for no reason! Public transportation! Love! Friendship! Living in a first-world country! The list goes on and on! And that exposition of thanks is my favorite part of Thanksgiving.
Oh wait, that's not right. Pie is my favorite part of Thanksgiving. MY BAD.
But the thanks thing is a close second.
Annnnnnyway, I'm very thankful (see what I did there, with the thanks?), to have nabbed an invitation to my Auntie Ann and Uncle Michel's place in central France for the weekend. It's not really for Thanksgiving, it's just a regular visit, but since I am so very gung-ho about the holiday, they are pulling some strings and we are going to have a magnificent turkey chicken dinner! (Turns out you can't get a turkey in France in November. Even if you make a personal call to your butcher.) And before I take off to have a delightful weekend in the country, I just wanted to tell all y'all back home/in Paris/in Chile/in one of those other weird countries that pop up in my stats without explanation what I'm thankful for.
I am thankful for France. It is beautiful and ancient and fascinating. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be here, and thankful to all those who helped me get here with money or he application process or moral support, and thankful for the things I've gotten out of this bizarre and wonderful culture.
I am thankful for America. It's so open and honest and friendly there. I'm thankful that I get to go back, and that I've been so privileged as to be raised in a country that is so rich in so many ways. And I'm thankful for PEANUT BUTTER.
I'm thankful for family, friends, family friends, friends' families, acquaintances I'd like to be better friends with, kindly strangers, and my gentleman friend Forrest Phillips. You're all perfect and I'll love you forever. For. Ev. Urr.
I'm thankful for Downton Abbey getting picked up for a third season. Also thankful that Parks and Recreation exists.
I'm thankful for The Hunger Games, and thankful that Kris is awesome and loaned it me.
I'm thankful for these socks I bought yesterday that don't have holes in the toes and are really warm.
I'm thankful that my hair is finally long enough that it doesn't look stupid more than half the time.
I'm thankful that the thrift stores here are filled with hipsterlicious basics from French brands.
I'm thankful for crème caramel.
I'm thankful for my hard-earned (and yet still kind of pitiful) knowledge of the French language.
De quoi êtes-vous raconaissants?
(See! Je parle français!)
(It took a lot of tourist websites for me to give up trying to get that pronouncing-the-r/not-pronouncing-the-r balance just right and just say "shart." Sad, but at least I successfully bought a ticket from the train person.)
This weekend the people I hang out with basically all the time went to AMSTERDAM. WITHOUT ME. I mean, they did invite me. And I said no. Anyway. I spent the whole weekend by myself, which was actually quite nice, since I will be on the road for the next two weekends. But after catching up on all my television on Friday, I decided it was time to man up and go to Chartres by myself for the day on Saturday.
| On the train! The tracks are blurry because I was so scared I couldn't focus. Get it? Focus? |
| They had a bunch of scaffolding up, which put a serious damper on my photo ops. |
| I feel so successful now. |
| Like, you don't even know. These pictures have validated my existence. |
| You're welcome. |
So I will post about festive things that I've been doing soon, but for now I just want to share a few songs that are a perfect fit for moments of my Parisian life. I hope it will provide a tiny little aural window of insight into my currents haps. Haps as in "What's the haps, bro?" In case that wasn't clear.
Sitting In The Dawn Light Of The Kitchen By Myself Eating Tiny French Toasts And Doing My Homework This Blog Post:
| So tiny! So French! So toasty! |
| You can simulate people watching with this photograph of interesting people. |
| You can thank Monday for my grouchy Kraken face. |
And last week, we were all together, my deux amours and me!
I met Forrest at the crack of dawn on October 30th at Charles de Gaulle, and I saw him off well before the crack of dawn on November 8th at Orly. In between we ate a lot of Nutella, saw a lot of Parisian stuff, and were really sappy. I know what you're thinking. Ew gross! Young love! No one wants to hear about that! Well SUCK IT. I am writing a post about it, and you just have to deal.
It was really cool having someone to show around Paris who had never been here before, because after a few months here it is too easy to justify staying home and knitting all day or just going straight back to bed after a difficult morning class. I feel like I've seen all the major monuments and museums, and sometimes I just feel like sleeping and watching TV. Which is fine sometimes, but it was so refreshing to have someone here to snap me out of it!
Anyway, we mostly went to places I'd been to before, because Forrest was here for a short time, so we took kind of a crash course tour of Paris. We hit all the big stuff:
| The Seine |
| Hotel de Ville |
| Luxembourg Gardens |
| The Pantheon |
| The Arc de Triomphe |
| The Louvre |
| The Musée d'Orsay |
| The Tubey Museum |
| Sacré Coeur |
| ...I forget where this is. |
| Serious thinkers. |
| Sad times. |
I have like, the worst cold in the entire world, and today after school I got really frustrated that I haven't been able to find any nice hot minestrone, so I just opened up the window, yelled "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!" and went to the open market to get some vegetables.
It wasn't the best soup ever. I used some really low quality hamburger and bouillon, which kind of made it taste like feet. Delicious, flavorful feet, but still.
| Treat yo self! To soup! |
I am not going to extend to the program in Bordeaux, and instead will be coming home in December! Yay! Cut some paper snowflakes, put the lights on the tree, get me something gold and sequined, and buy all the boxes of panettone that you can find, because I'll be home for Christmas, bitches*.
| I haven't actually seen this movie. |
| Just checking. |
| Because it's sexy. |
| This is an awesome story in the form of a Facebook photo. |
I know, I know. Pain au chocolat is always a wonderful experience. So delicious! So crispy! So warm!
But I swear, this one was the best.
A lot of times, I will say something to someone in French. It's usually just a word or two, that I'm sure I'm not mispronouncing and have said and heard a million times. "Une baguette s'il vous plait." "Un pain au chocolat, s'il vous plait." "Un café, s'il vous plait."And then the person starts talking to me in English. What! I said that right! I think to myself. I don't think they mean anything by it, they just assume that I don't know anything but the names of pastries in French. Yes, I have been studying French for more than 5 years and I can use the subjunctive (under very special circumstances), but I understand. A lot of Americans in Paris don't know squat! So I don't blame them for speaking English to me, but it makes me feel like I have failed and then I am grouchy for the rest of the day.
But today...oh, today! I walked into this bakery, said hello with a very good accent, and I asked the guy for a pain au chocolat. And he smiled a little bit and said "Yes." Very deliberately, too. Like he was saying, "I know your dark secret! You speak English! Me too!" And I was disappointed for a second, but then he said:
"If you want to seem more Parisian..."
And if you're in a study abroad program in Paris, you probably feel the same way as I do. Seeming Parisian has somehow become my ultimate goal in life. I don't know why, because it doesn't matter at all, but if people ask me directions I do a little dance of joy, and if people offer to point me towards the Eiffel Tower I cry for days. I make all m clothing choices based on blending in. I hide my camera. I hide my map. I carry my textbooks with the covers towards me so no one can see that they're in English. So when he said "If you want to seem more Parisian..." I was instantly hanging on to every lightly accented syllable like he was some kind of messiah.
"If you want to seem more Parisian," he said, "you should say 'pain au chocolat.'"
Now, you're probably wondering what the difference between "pain au chocolat" and "pain au chocolat" is. I was too! At first I thought he meant I had said it wrong, but then I realized what he was saying was that I should not use a liaison between the n of pain and the a of au.
Side note for you non-Francophones:
Generally you don't pronounce the last consonant in a word, unless the next word begins with a vowel sound. For example:
"Je suis très cool." = Zjhe swee tray cool. = I am very cool.
"Je suis interessant." = Zjhe sweez anterressant. = I am interesting.
Hey, I never said French was easy. (Wait, did anyone ever say French was easy? They were lying to you.)
He explained very nicely that I was actually grammatically correct to use a liason, but that you would never catch a Frenchperson saying "pan-oh-shock-oh-lah."And then he sent me on my merry way, pai(n) au chocolat in hand, with an awesome new tactic for seeming French. :)
I love when people help you learn French instead of just brushing you off.
It was a beautiful moment.
So, first of all I have a really important story to tell you. Last night I was in one of the major chain grocery stores, FranPrix, and I saw a mouse scamper across the aisle right in front of me. It went under the fresh produce area. I just started cracking up in the middle of the store. It was the best thing ever.
Adorably weird things seem to be happening to me all the time now. I made small talk in French with a drunk architect while she walked to the metro station. I saw a girl dance with a boy who was on a train across the platform from her and then sign him her number. I saw a hipster roller skating (yes, on skates) like it wasn't super nerdy. Some drunk guy gave my friend a French dictionary and wrote his number in it! Life is good. There is no end of amusement for me on the streets of Paris(/Lyon).
But yeah, basically things are cute right now. I got home today and my host mom had cleaned my room. (PS, super awkward, right? I've never had this little privacy. I'm always worried that she'll judge me for reading terrible books or see the spoon I use to eat yogurt when I'm at school that I never wash or find my stash of crack cocaine.*) She had taken Iceland, my stuffed bunny who I generally hide shamefully under the bed because I am 20 years old and sometimes sleep with a rabbit, and put him under my lap blanket. Which is both nice, because I don't have to hide poor Iceland anymore, and hilarious, because she put him under the blanket.
| Who's a cozy wabbit? You're a cozy wabbit! Yes you are! |
| JAZZ HANDS! |
Sometimes, when I'm in a hurry or feeling a little down, I turn to Picard for my suppers. Oh, Picard! A magical land of wonder and freezers!
My film professor is hilarious. He also recommended a book by Jean Cocteau's lover, but then warned us that there was some "kinky stuff." He also thinks Le Jour Se Leve is a good movie.
Funny guy.
Sorry guys, 18 days is quite a long unannounced hiatus. But I'm alive! And I'm happy.
Here is a list of awesome things that happened in the past 7 days:
For the past few weeks, I've been trying really hard to fit in here. Making friends, studying more than I ever do (not that that's really saying anything), and making a serious effort to acclimate to the general Frenchiness. I've been wearing makeup, eating breakfast at the table, glowering at passersby and using the magic words almost until their enchantment wears off completely. But I think I tried so hard to be French that I kind of forgot to continue being me. Up until a couple of days ago, I hadn't cooked, crafted, or been obsessed with a song because it made me feel like I was in a movie in weeks. And then I decided it had to stop.
On Tuesday I went to this awesome yarn store called "La Droguerie" with a new friend. After wandering around for three hours fingering the yarns (both fingering and worsted...YARN JOKE!) and generally being too wussy to ask someone who you had to screw around here to get a ball of yarn, someone finally came up to us and (rather pointedly?) asked if we needed some help. I came away with some really lovely deep purple wool and a set of dpns, and last night I started to make some sweet mittens for the cold unforgiving Paris winter to come!
| Hello, sexy. |
Today I bought some apple juice. I chose it over the other juices purely because it was called "jus de pomme trouble." Which means "apple juice" and whatever "trouble" is. I never really figured it out. Anyway, I just thought it was hilarious, so I bought it even though I don't really like apple juice. COOL STORY BRO.
Yesterday we moved into our host family residences. I'm staying with a very nice femme named Monique, in a cute little apartment on the 6th French floor. Which is like the American 7th floor. There's no elevator, but it's surprisingly easy to walk up 6 flights of stairs. I think there's something in the water here. I always feel so capable of walking and climbing stairs. And crossing the street! I used to be scared of that.
There's something in the water here that makes my hair gross and crunchy, but that's another story.
My room is very cute, and looks into a little courtyard, with a view of some similarly cute French buildings and some not-so-cute office structures. But there is a little window grate and the windows are faux stained glass and it is airy and ensoleillée. I kind of love it.
| This is a window grate. Do you think there's a legitimate name for them? |
| Hello, my pretties. |
| Singing bro statues at the Pantheon |
| Beige beige beige. |
| La Sorbonne |
I'm so tired right now.
In other news, I arrived safely in Paris, and (after a ridiculously long and arduous journey through the Parisian public transportation maze) was efficiently shepherded into my temporary lodgings.
I admit, I cried a little bit on the plane. It was pathetic, but I kept thinking about how much I like my life right now and how in the movies when people go off on grand adventures to new places, it's always to fill a void of some sort, and I couldn't remember anything I liked about France. All I could think about was everything I like about home and how I wouldn't get to see it for months.
But then... Bam! After leaving Charles de Gaulle (which is a total clusterfuck and couldn't make anyone fall back in love with Paris), after carrying my gigantic suitcases down a million flights of stairs, I got on the RER. (The RER is Paris' less deep, more rural underground train.) And all of a sudden, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. I had successfully pulled off a crazy amount of luggage carrying. I was strong! I was independent! I was on my favorite train! People were speaking French!
| The contrast between verdant foliage and graffiti gets me every time. |
| Who's a cute wittle hwotel? You are! Yes you! |
That was supposed to be a play on "postpartum depression." In case that wasn't clear.
Anyway, exactly two weeks until I board the plane. (Not exactly exactly. My flight isn't at 2 am, thank god.) And I still have all this stuff to do! It's real stressful. So I am coping by not sleeping ever! Yay! I'm doing a lot of quality late-night blogging.
A few minutes ago I went downstairs to turn off the lights in our car, and as I was leaving I caught the screen door so it didn't slam. And there was this weird wave of like, nostalgia or something that came over me. But I haven't left yet, so I don't think that's quite the word. But I just loved that I knew I had to catch the screen door. I loved it so. damn. much. I really like the feeling of knowing a place really well. I like being one of the few people able to coax the television into behaving, and knowing where everything is, and knowing all the little tricks for making coffee and getting ice and taking out the trash. I'm gonna miss that.
But then I'll find that in Paris and I'll be catching someone else's screen door, and that will probably feel awesome too.
Also, I just heard the screen door slam last night which is why I remembered it, so that's kind of ridiculous. I'm making it out to be some great knowledge I have garnered over the years. Nope. Just a thing from last night, when I was also going in and out of the house at 2 in the morning.