The Life Quixotic

Welcome to the Blog of the Worst Blogger Ever

2009-11-08T07:05:00.013-05:00

Okay, it's official, I'm a terrible blogger. For those of you on Facebook, I'm pretty good at keeping up with pictures, although I'll definitely try to catch up on those here.

I'm successfully settled into the Parisian lifestyle. I live in an adorable apartment in the 7th arrondissement, a few minutes away from Musee d'Orsay and two blocks down from the Seine, right across from the Louvre and the Jardin de Tuileries.

The apartment is owned by a woman named Madame Sylvie de Sampigny, we call her Madame. She recently hosted a fete for her 80th birthday--it went from six in the evening to midnight and had around 80 guests. Old or young, the French know how to party.

Besides Madame and I, my roommate Kelsey (from Louisiana, but schooling in Texas), Bennet (from Texas but schooling in NYC) and a steady, rotating stream of Madame's relatives live here. And Shergui, my new four-legged friend. I get paid five euro an hour to go on walks with Shergui down on the quai by the Seine about three times a week. Rough. Life.

While Madame provides a breakfast (Muesli, baguette with butter and fig jam, and a bowl of coffee), we're on our own for the other meals. At first, I was buying a lot of sandwiches from cafes, but this gets pretty expensive after a while. Now I have a routine: On my way home from school I stop at the corner grocer on my street and pick up a baguette, a bottle of wine, and any miscellaneous veggies I'd like for that night. In the fridge I keep a pretty good stock of eggs, Camembert and goat cheese, sliced duck (cheaper than chicken and so good!) and any unused miscellaneous veggies from the night before. I sit down, have a glass of wine with some Camembert and baguette and decide whether I'd like to sautee veggies and put them on pasta with goat cheese, or sautee veggies and put them in an omlette with goat cheese. With a glass of wine. This has become my standard recipe: In a non-stick pan warm olive oil. Chop three stalks of asparagus, a tomato, half a small zucchini, some eggplant a few slices of smoked duck and small onion, sautee with herbs de Provence. Place on top of pasta, add triangles of goat cheese. I have a huge problem making only enough for one, so if Bennet and Kelsey don't want any, I put the rest in a bowl and save it for the next day. Dessert is fromage blanc with honey and usually a few squares of chocolate. Okay, a lot of chocolate.

Here are a few things they don't tell you about France: Coffee is served in bowls, tea in cups. That's why they're called teacups. The mug has not been invented here, and travel mugs are a serious faux pas. Tea spoons are for stirring coffee or tea, definitely not for eating from. If you'd like to eat your cereal with a spoon, it's the size of a serving spoon, and don't complain. If you sit at a cafe and order a coffee (un cafe), you receive a shot-sized coffee with a side of sugar. If you'd like a real coffee, order un cafe creme--coffee with cream. Sandwiches are made with baguette, rolls or wrap, not sliced bread, ever. Sliced bread is only eaten as a last resort, when the bakery is out of baguette, or one does not have time to go get a baguette.

Besides eating (a lot), I go to school too. Technically, I'm enrolled at the Sorbonne. The building my classes are in doesn't look like this though.

This is, however, my route to school every day. I walk down Boulevard St Germain des Pres, one of the oldest streets in Paris, past Musee Cluny and onto Rue St Jacques, which takes me past the Sorbonne seen above. There I take a left and have the Pantheon immediately in front, and the Eiffel Tower and Luxembourg gardens visible behind.

I have a two hour Cours Practique every day from noon to two. On Monday mornings from nine to eleven thirty I have l'Histoire d'Architecture de Paris, all in French with walking tours of some of the most interesting architectural aspects of Paris--definitely one of my favorite classes. Tuesday mornings from ten to eleven I have French Painting, which is a pretty disappointing class considering what it could be. The upside are the museum visits included in the class on Thursday afternoons from three to five. We get acquainted with museums all around the city from big ones like the Louvre to small, obscure ones like the Gustave Moreau--the house of the symbolist painter that was turned into a museum of his works. Wednesday mornings from eight thirty to eleven thirty is Franco-American Relations--a pretty interesting history class highlighting, you guessed it, Franco-American relations from the American Revolution to today. Every other week I also have a Phonetics class from five thirty to six thirty. Worst. Class. Ever. For the first half hour, we repeat phrases and syllables after the professor to work on pronunciation, and the second half hour we record the same phrases and syllables into microphones, listen to the recording, rinse and repeat.

In my off time, I'm becoming pretty acquainted with Paris itself. A lot of this is due to having almost the whole family out to visit me--I try to find things for them to do, and get to go to all the different attractions. For example, Dad and I went to the Conciergerie in the Palais du Justice where they kept Marie Antoinette during the Revolution, and the Chateau de Vincennes where St. Louis IX lived in the 12th centurty Donjon, built a second Sainte Chapelle and Louis the XIV grew up.

Carrie visited last week, and we did all the touristy things from Notre Dame to Asterix Land for Halloween (Asterix is like French Mickey Mouse). We also braved the lines and height of the Eiffel Tower.

My stay here is pretty much at the half way point, but things are going to start moving quickly. Next week we have a five day break for Armistice Day, so everyone is going traveling. Some are going to Amsterdam, other to Barcelona or Italy. We decided to go to Marrakesh, Morocco. You know, because when in Paris, go to Africa! We leave Tuesday afternoon, return Sunday night. I'll have a routine week after that, then Mom, Adrien and Cheryl come out! And two weeks after that is my return flight! I can't believe how quickly this adventure is flying by--as evidenced by my lack of blogging! Anyway, I'm well, safe, happy and learning a ton. Hope everyone reading is the same, and I'll see you all (very, very) soon!

Blog

2009-11-01T13:34:00.003-05:00

To Greg. And all the other disappointed readers:

blog blog blog, blog blog. I know, I'm awful at this. Pictures and stories to come, just after Carrie leaves.

What kind of blogger lets it go for more than a month?? Obviously this is not meant to be.

Monstre Charmant

2009-09-21T14:10:00.004-04:00

There is no excuse: I've had tons of free time for blogging. On the other hand, I haven't had much to blog about because of all the free time. Okay, so maybe a little:

My classes are wonderful. Three hours of French in the morning with a fifteen minute break, and I even tested into the upper-intermediate level, would you believe it? I have a 10 minute oral presentation due this week, and a writing prompt about every other day. The heavy work load is a little stressful... But to relax there's always the beach!

About two minutes walking distance to the glorious Cote d'Azure with a view of the mountains dropping right into the ocean. The only downside is the creepy male population who think it's funny to leer and shout at every passing American woman. And despite our best efforts, it's easy to pick us out of a crowd. My new favorite phrase? "Je ne suis pas qu'un objet sexuel pour toi!" (I am NOT your sexual object!)

This weekend we went to Monaco and Eze, a small village in between Monaco and Nice, France. Monaco was beautiful, but completely over the top. The harbor is filled with yahts and the bay is covered in gorgeous, expensive sailboats tooling around (you'd be in heaven, Lynne). We went to the Cathedral where Princess Grace Kelly's tomb is (took a picture for you, Momma) and the casino in Monte Carlo. I didn't go in, but felt very sophisticated having a glass of wine at the cafe outside. The Oceanographic Museum was incredible, but the general atmosphere of affluence got pretty oppressive after a while.

Eze was a beautiful contrast. There they have the oldest parfumerie in France, which was amazing. We only had about an hour and a half, so after the parfumerie we climbed up into the old city--literally climbed, it's steeply uphill--and went to the very top of the city, through the exotic garden and onto the Roman ruins that top a mountain overlooking the coast from Monaco to Nice.

And now I'm sitting in the school's cafe, sipping some wine and listening to three students play guitars and a saxophone. A Bientot!

Ah! this morning! I have lived since then!

2009-09-11T15:46:00.004-04:00

My first day in London has been GREAT! Well, we got off to a rough start, but after that, GREAT! My flight went off without a hitch; we flew into Heathrow at 5:15 am local time (12:15 EST) to find all sorts of people waiting with their signs out front. Except the one with an AIFS sign. So the three of us on my flight waited. And waited. And waited. An hour an a half, lots of pacing and a phone call to the emergency AIFS line later, our ride showed up and we were dropped at the hotel. The same hotel I stayed at in January when I came with Dad! We're in Kensington Forum, walking distance to all kinds of neat stuff, all of which we walked to. After we waited for another half hour to meet the AIFS rep at the hotel--who was MIA for quite some time.

Well after all the standing and waiting, we ditched our bags in a common room--we couldn't check in until around noon--and headed off to explore. My new friends Kelsey and Heather and I headed up to Harrods where we discovered oversized stuffed animals big enough to have a space in the zoo and a fooze-ball table that cost 13,500 pounds, and then to the Natural History Museum for the Precious Gems display in the Vault, the dinosaurs and the new outdoor garden exhibit. Came back to get our rooms and a shower and then headed off again, this time just Kelsey and I, to explore Kensington Gardens and the Kensington Palace grounds.

Incredible. It was like an Alfred Hitchcock movie. We took brief naps (I'd been awake for 31 hours I think) and now we're going to explore again. Three hour tour tomorrow! Wish us luck.

Amanda Rohdenburg

2009-09-10T07:35:00.003-04:00

is really bad at blogging. Obviously. But now, the fruition of my summer and the original purpose for my blog approaches: I leave today on British Airways flight 212 to Heathrow in a brief sojourn before Paris. And so, while my legs are still unable to make my butt move from my warm bed, I'll do a five-minute review of the summer since June 14th.

1. Worked. A lot. And loved it. My sound bite is usually that I get to be outdoors and bring my dog to work too, which is true. But also it's a really awesome, woman-centric place to be. My two bosses are women, and all the employees are women--not just any kind of women but thoughtful, easy-going women who lift heavy things, know more about woodworking and sales than any people I've ever met, and lead down-right interesting lives. It makes for a uniquely comfortable working environment.

2. Went to the Dominican Republic with my mom, Adrien and about a million aunts, uncles and cousins. We built a house for a family of five in six days, walking in and out of more poverty every day than I have ever encountered in my life. It was a pretty big perspective shift.

3. Got stressed about France. First I wasn't able to keep my first appointment at the French Consulate in Boston for my visa. Then they told me that it wouldn't be done until the day AFTER I leave. Then my tickets weren't going to get here on time. All that worked itself out on Tuesday: Visa granted, tickets are here and now I'm really going.

So here it is. After all summer, I'm heading out today at 6:05 pm for my first three-month adventure. And I'm holding out for the whole family to visit. Adrien, his mom Cheryl, and Mom are coming out Thanksgiving vacation--they already have their tickets. Dad's bidding for flights to Paris next month so he can fly out (and fly out Carrie and Kate?). And I'm running late for my first day, so Peace! Welcome to my blog--for real this time!

The Summer of AntiFeminism or, Why I Miss School

2009-06-12T13:46:00.003-04:00

The closest I've come to exchanging dirty stories and feminism with a real fairy is Margaret Mahan, my next-door-suite-buddy from SMC. After a few too-short phone calls over the course of the summer, Marge sent me a Facebook message summing up her life sans moi so far.

" I want to write a big honkin essay entitled "The Summer of Antifeminism" because I need to be constructive with the blatant ignorance and prejudices around me. Last night at the beach these guys used the words GAY or FAG over 35 times in one hour. I was keeping a tally in the sand to keep from exploding. Then, I did say something. They said that some guy was a wicked big faggot for something he did, and I said "Yeah man, I bet that he was making love to another man at the same time as that shit went down, since he's so GAY and all!" I realized soon after that they didn't exactly pick up on my sarcastic attempt to teach them that being gay and being, well, a "douche bag" aren't related circumstances. They thought I was hard core after that......

So yes, "The Summer of Antifeminism: A closer look at the social patterns of the natives of Aquidneck Island" will be coming soon!"

After spending all year with awesome women like Marge, her frustration with the attitudes of people outside our group is something I totally understand. The other night at person Max's place his housemate turned on an episode of a 1980 adult cartoon called Heavy Metal. It turned out to be a sort of Sci-Fi fantasy for white male viewers to commiserate their collective castration fear-- pretty standard '80s backlash. The main character acts out a story line based on victories over bloodthirsty feminazis and faggots while being perpetually sexually irresistible to the uniformly expendable women. At first it was interesting in a twisted analytical way, but the damn thing didn't even try to be subtle. Someone call Jackson Katz: I did my best to explain it, but I could have used some reinforcements. Now I think I'll just carry around Marge's essay, or make it into a cape and shield.

Unsurprisingly Unsympathetic

2009-05-28T18:27:00.002-04:00

At school I work for the Center for Women and Gender, previously the Women's Center. Shockingly at such a bro-centric school, about every three weeks I meet a new person who, upon finding out my affiliation with the CWG asks, "So where's the Men's Center? Harharhar." It's the same, probably less intelligent, form of this guy, who is the funnier, less outright offensive form of these guys.

I'm all about questioning the balance of power, and I'll even seriously answer the Men's Center query, but so-called Men's Rights Activists are downright absurd. Their platform is clearly born of concern over the lost monopoly of power--and they should be concerned. Men have lost power. There, I said it. Men don't have as much power as they used to; moment of silence for the end of the totalitarian power of men. And now on to real life. Of course men have lost powers! Of course they've lost rights! Let's do a celebration dance! High kick for the lost power to legally beat your wife. Pirouette for the end of coverture! Lord of the Dance Leap for the inclusion of women in public office! Economic autonomy! Higher Education! Bodily Integrity!

Moment of silence for the poor, poor men. Aaand, done.

The Bare Necessities

2009-05-20T19:03:00.003-04:00

Work kicked my butt tonight--already I'm terrible at this blogging thing--and my poor feet may never recover. On the bright side, I can still put together an acacia adirondack chair in under twenty minutes; I sanded and re-oiled a Brazilian cherry stool and started on the matching chair, tbtc tomorrow, and washed and bleached a four piece set of recycled milk-bottle material adirondack chairs. And so, in lieu of a real, in-depth blog about the mysteries of life, I give you: the Contents of my Purse today, as follows:

1 Large Super Soaker, still unused in the training of dogs; I think he's on to me.

1 Tin Dog Bowl, with Baggie of Dog Food

1 Can Cat Treats (what cat ever did tricks? so they deserve treats because... Yeah, I don't know either: Dog Treats)

1 Sweatshirt, mostly clean

1 iPod mini, sans headphones

1 Leash

1 Set of Keys

3 Pens

2 To Do Lists, neither completed

1 Bottle Baby Lotion

1 Bottle Sunscreen, SPF 55

4 Tubes of Chapstick

1 Copy of Winnie the Pooh, the original. Don't judge, what have you read lately?

Eventually I'll be less tired and have more interesting things to blog about. I hope.

Off to the City

2009-05-14T21:37:00.003-04:00

I'm playing au pair for the weekend for my (second) favorite girls in New York City! Packing all my big girl clothes (thanks, Marge), and maybe even more than one pair of shoes. But let's not kid ourselves, probably just one pair of shoes.

It's All About the Guns

2009-05-08T17:15:00.005-04:00

Well, I moved out of my dorm this morning and all that lifting and carrying made me excited to get back to work so I can start getting into shape--and have arms like Michelle Obama.

And also watch a lot of Sarah Haskins, because I love her. Happy Summer!

And now for something Completely Different

2009-05-05T11:11:00.009-04:00

Because finals week is kicking my butt, and also because I'm lacking a little inspiration for a real post that wouldn't take too much effort, I give you: The Metaphor for my Brain. Kind of like the background of my computer, I picture my brain as a room with walls covered in Sticky Notes. Layers and layers of sticky notes with random facts. So here's a sampling (from my computer, not my brain):

Excerpts from F My Life:

Today, I found out that the horrible stench haunting my apartment for the past week was the decomposing corpse of my freedom loving gerbil underneath the bed that I've been sleeping on. FML.

Today, my cat was in the bathroom when I was undressing to get into the shower. I realized that he was the only male to have seen me naked in the past two months. Then he started scratching the door for me to let him out. FML

Cooler fears than Arachnophobia:

Anatidaphobia- The fear that somehow, somewhere, a duck is watching you.

Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth.

Novercaphobia- Fear of your mother-in-law

Santa Letters from Hell:

Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is

peace and joy in the world for everybody!

Love,

Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?

Santa

A Series of Complete Randomness:

Lost: Sandwich; Description: Delicious

Joan of Arc: No Christian martyr works it harder

I love you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and everywhere in-between. Don't even get me started on in-between, some of my favorite places are there.

And, finally, the difficulties of teaching children correct diction:

"Mommy, I need to make potty and Cousin Maria needs to urinate."

Also, I completely MacGyvered my toilet the other day with a piece of chewing gum. Be impressed.

Can't Touch This

2009-04-29T07:01:00.004-04:00

There are probably as many ways to motivate oneself as there are people in the world. Well this morning, in preparation for Hump Day, I give you: The Underpants Dance. It's my own invention.

Few things are necessary for an Underpants Dance. Of course underpants, preferably the lucky rocket ship kind, a small space, and a proper dance mix. A good measure for song quality is the potential for one to sing along with a hairbrush if necessary. So for a little inspiration and because I don't want my day to really start, here are a few of the best from the original Underpants Dance mix:

1. Golden Years, David Bowie

2. Oliver's Army, Elvis Costello

3. Maneater, Nelly Furtado

4. Swing Set, Jurassic 5

5. Paper Planes, MIA

6. Lollipop, Mika

7. Dancing with Myself, the Ramones

8. Push It, Salt n Peppa

9. Jane Fonda, Mickey Avalon

10. Manamena

11. Give Me a Beat, Girl Talk

12. I Don't Feel Like Dancing, the Scissor Sisters

13. Fit, the Streets

14. Kiss, Prince

15. Running on Sunshine, Jesus Jackson

16. Clothes Off!, Gym Class Heroes

And obviously pretty much anything by the Proclaimers. Now with all those examples, new/awesome/undiscovered Underpants Dance songs? And go.

Twitterpaited

2009-04-28T18:23:00.004-04:00

Everyone's talking about marriage!

Must be the spring.

Mike Bosia, one of the contributors to the Seven Days link above, is my Comparative Politics professor. He's also one of the love birds on the car in black and white. It's pretty awesome to see my professors practicing what they teach, especially out in the community like this.

Now back to this week's programming: French presentation tomorrow, Intro to Gender Studies presentation and paper due Thursday, then four more papers and two finals. In case I don't survive this next week and a half, any of you with unresolved issues or final words should probably speak up sooner rather than later. Also I hereby bequeath possessions as follows:

Ma: Harold and Maude dvd, grown-up address book, my journal to publish and retire a multi-millionaire from royalties and movie deals on but never read, and all the socks I've ever stolen from you

Kate: The pair of your sunglasses I commandeered, my cooler finger paintings, and my collection of feminist books

Carrie: All my loose photographs, my Fraggle Rock episodes, and permission to reproduce and sell copies of that video of the It's Raining Men interpretive dance

Dad: My journal from Ireland, the sweatshirt I have of yours that you probably don't remember you ever had, the Rocky Horror Picture Show dvd.

Adrien: My stars, Haru, all of the shirts that were yours are now mine and could then be yours again, my copies of Alice in Wonderland and the Little Prince, and permission to not ever get around to reading them

Marge: Keep the tutus and the nude portrait. Burn the secret documents.

Sell the rest to museums and mourning fans.

Women for Sale

2009-04-27T14:51:00.003-04:00

My Civil Liberties professor told us today that women were not considered a suspect category in legislation partly because they'd never been considered chattels. In addition to the more obvious examples, I give you the traditional, more insidious institution of marketing women: Marriage.

I watched You, Me and Dupree last night and thought it was, for the most part, a pretty funny movie. Then there was this one part that just got under my skin: character Molly Thompson's father, Mr. Thompson, suggests that Molly's new husband take her name instead of the other way around. Carl Peterson, the offended intended, freaks out. Then, to underline the emasculating implications of taking a woman's name, Mr. Thomas hands Peterson a pamphlet encouraging vasectomies.

It irritated me to no end that Peterson would have a huge problem with taking Thompson's name while blithely assuming that she had no problem changing hers. Even hyphenating was an unacceptable alternative. Now, since Thompson was obviously a patrilineal name, Peterson wouldn't have been really trading down at all: He would still have a place in patrilineal descent. The problem then becomes one of identity. Peterson's identity is so focused on his name that to change it would be like losing a core part of himself. Molly Thompson, however, obviously doesn't have any of those silly identity preferences; her identity is expected to change to reflect that of her current male supervisor, first father, now husband.

I'm not saying it would be any better if the roles were reversed, and Peterson were the one to unquestioningly give up his name for Thompson's. I'd just once like to see a light-hearted popular movie that didn't make women so interchangeably commodified. And a Professor of liberties who realized that chattels are sold with all kinds of currency.

It's going to be a long week.

Jon Arbuckle: Tragically Misunderstood

2009-04-26T16:05:00.004-04:00

To properly position myself in a French mindset for the coming presentation, I look to sources of existentialist inspiration. I give you Jon Arbuckle and his heretofore unrecognized pleas for affection.

A moment of silence for Jon, may he find contentment in his destiny of playing second fiddle to a cat.

A Day in the Life

2009-04-22T15:23:00.002-04:00

In the spirit of family traditions and avoidance of all my other work, a blog is born. Also I get a warm, fuzzy feeling when I think about the things I write being published--never mind that I'm the one doing the publishing.

Today is a Wednesday in the first of three weeks that I expect will be something like the first few levels of Hell. But, since this is the blog of an optimist, I'll try to start off with something a little more cheerful than a thirty minute French oral exam.

A List of Things to Look Forward To:

A class trip to Montreal this Friday

The possibility of seeing the Russian Ballet with my ma tomorrow night (for free!)

End of the year celebration with the folks the Center for Women and Gender

P-Day-provided giant inflatables and free food

Getting a thirty minute French oral exam over with

It's a small start for a blog with big ideas, but there it is. Welcome to my world!