Mes Belles Lettres

We interrupt our regularly scheduled program for an important announcement. I made a little video as I sat in my jail cell  chambre (which by the way has more bugs now than it did before they sprayed for bugs... significantly more [although still not as bad as the earwigs of '09]). You see my niece's birthday is on Monday, which, according to French time is just over an hour away. I'm going to video chat home tomorrow to talk to her, but the video quality is usually bad and the sound is usually off (thanks France.) So, here is a video of me, singing happy birthday to her. If your name isn't Shyanne, and you aren't turning three on Monday you need not watch. And yes, those are my clothes hanging in the background. 1 euro gets me 18 minutes on the dryer, which isn't enough...

Do you want to hear about my life, or just see pictures of  L'Arc de Triomphe and La Tour Eiffel? Rhetorical question. I'm telling you a little bit about my life. I've decided I can only handle one French cultural thing per day. Otherwise I'll be like the person that has to read the directions on a box of Pop Tarts. Today I decided it was time to figure out what size I wear in France. Let me tell you why French women are not fat. Their size numbers are horrific. Actually the fact that there really don't seem to be fat women in France is counter-intuitive since these people eat pain, fromage, and nutella and speculoos and all manner of pastries all the live long day.  By the way, every package I mail back to the states is going to have a jar of speculoos in it. It is so good. Anyway, I needed to buy a jacket, because although I'm certain I packed three, I only have one sweatshirt here. I looked up a conversion chart online last night. It said that a US si...

I remember many years ago my uncle once telling me that he can remember exactly what he was doing when JFK was shot. He said anyone that was alive back then could tell you. I used to think that things like that just don't happen anymore, not in America. Terrible events may take place in far away places, but in America we were in a bubble. A safe, insulated, powerful bubble. I could tell you exactly what I was wearing at 5:45 AM on September 11, 2001when the announcement of the first plane hitting the tower was made on KOOL 94.5. Life as we knew it would never be the same.  Lets take a moment and take a step back. Forget what political party you belong to. Forget whether you liked Bush or hated him. Forget whether you voted for Barack Obama or John McCain. Forget the value of the dollar, and forget the stress of trying to get on a plane now. Just stop and remember we are all Americans. I love you America. What I can't remember is the exact moment I decided I wanted to go to F...

I met this guy... Don't get excited. I didn't mean like that. He is a lovely individual and he showed me around Port Cergy last evening. Today he connected my computer to the internet for me. So I can call home and video chat avec ma famille. I'm fairly certain he is my guardian angel.

I find myself saying that a lot here. It means speak slowly please. Cergy sits near the river Oise. The Port is lovely, there are little bunny rabbits that run all around. I would like to take a minute to say that socialism totally sucks. PLEASE DO NOT VOTE FOR BARACK OBAMA NEXT YEAR. If America turns into France I will kill myself. Only YOU can prevent my suicide. I almost had a nervous breakdown in the International Relations Office at the school today. Things about France I love:     It is very green in Cergy     Port du Cergy.(river, rabbits and all)     nutella. It tastes a million times better here. Just sayin.     there is a park by my residence Things about France that I don't love:        Their socialism, which causes ridiculously high prices. I paid the equivalent of 6 dollars for six apples.      That is a dollar an apple my friend. Ridiculous.  ...

Tu ne veux pas partir.(I heard Benton Paul sing that whole song in French. Go me.) Guys, let me tell you something about me. I am a walking nervous wreck. The whole time I was flying to Paris I was having a nervous breakdown in my mind. Now, this is just who I am. Starting sometime towards the end of July I started having moments where I thought, "what am I doing?? I don't want to leave the country all by myself!! That is SCARY!" Now granted, I think many of my fears are legitimate. However, I probably would have been perfectly willing to say, "you know what? Never mind, I'll just spend my last year in VT." Comfortable. Less stressful (except that whole Irene thing). A dream I've had for years never fulfilled. Well who wants to live like that? Not me. So I'd get mad at myself and tell myself I was being ridiculous. However, I finally decided to accept the fact that I was just going to freak out until I got to France and everything turned out fi...