i don't even know where to start. perhaps with the weather since that's what i am blaming for my current situation. it's cold, windy, stormy, sunny, rainy... unpredictable and unhospitable. if it weren't for this bollocks weather, i'd possibly be out and about, skipping stones and doing good deeds like Amelie, or sipping du café while drawing in my sketchbook at the brasserie, or perhaps picking up treats for friends and family back home.
i say possibly because i've also had some social anxiety while in France. everything is slightly unfamiliar, enough so that i initially think i know what i'm doing then i'm confronted with 'that's not how it's done here!' i use single quotes because nobody actually says that, it's a vibe i get from annoyed shopkeepers and inanimate objects alike. i don't know quite how to interact with people. my French is actually pretty decent, but i get so nervous that my head goes blank and i start saying "oui", "bonjour", "merci", "ca va", and "au revoir" indiscriminately. today i have managed to buy a two-quart bottle of strawberry flavored (yech!) water for 2€ (that's about $3 US) when i just wanted a plain bottle of water. after hydrating (and trying to take my anxiety down a notch by taking half an Ativan), i ventured back out onto the street and got a fresh baguette from a sweet kid in a shop who chatted me up in adorably limited English and made me feel less like a jerk.
back inside my friend's apartment, i made another pot of tea (i've never drunk so much tea in my life), and settled down with The World According To Mimi Smartypants. the title and adorable cover made me curious to see more: real life diary.. sassy, smart, straight-talking.. thirty-something city girl.. tells it like it is. ok. sure.
i started reading out of frustration, boredom, even a little desperation, and frankly, i expected that this book with it's silly girly cover and cliché descriptions would only further deepen my misery. i'm on vacation in Paris, France! i like clothes! and art! and architecture! and food!!! wait, like? i love those things and i've spent most of my time here sitting in an apartment, watching TV and movies and scouring the internet for something to interest me. yesterday, i spent a good three hours searching in vain for a suitable job back home in San Francisco, then in Portland, Oregon, then in Los Angeles, then even in New York City - as if i wouldn't implode in an attempt to live there. i am driving myself nuts on vacation because i'm not vacationing enough, not in the right way, not doing what i had planned. it wasn't supposed to be like this.
since high school, when the only thing i was ever commended for being good at academically was my ability to speak French, i have dreamed that one day i would move to France, perhaps most likely to Paris. i would be a writer and have a tiny dog and drink too much and wear grand chapeaus and beautiful coats. i do seem to be drawn to clichés don't i? perhaps i will attempt many suicides, engage many rude lovers, and die alone and sick from alcohol?
maybe clichés aren't the problem. after all, they are just ideas that have been repeated and accepted too many times. maybe like with stereotypes, there is something valid hidden under the scary uncouth part where we may be unoriginal, not unique, you know... common. however, it's probably wise to not make decisions that determine major aspects of one's life by considering romantic ideas.
this afternoon in Paris, after days of disappointment and dread at coming back to SF to look for a job, this blog-turned-book reminded me that i want to (continue to) be a writer, not because it will fulfill fantasies, but because i like words and putting them together in fun ways and telling a story. stories, for me, hold the promise of connecting with others and learning things that can help you and i both deal with what is unpredictable and inhospitable in life.