Work is hard; playtime is harder

Just got back from a three hour lunch with my coworkers in Georgetown for a goodbye party for a colleague who is moving back to Paris. Aaaaand now it's ten til four the last day before my Thanksgiving break actually starts. I'm really feeling super motivated to work. Woot.

Happenings

- Reading Bridget Jones' Diary for the second time because it's so funny. She's my hero.
- Attending crazy hair party tomorrow evening at Redbull's place. Think might wear hair in Princess-Lea style but punkier.
- Fondue for MF's bday Saturday yaaaaaay.
- Went to Citronelle to spoil the fy-an-cee for his birthday last night. In a nutshell: amazing. He almost started crying it was so good.
- Thanksgiving. MMMM!!!

70%

I feel like I've made it through my quarter life crisis. Hurrah!

Perhaps it's because I like my work and my co-workers. Perhaps it's because I'm engaged. Perhaps it's because I'm less strapped-for-cash than I was two years ago. Perhaps it's a combination of several things... in any case it is a wonderful feeling to feel like I've figured things out. Mind you, I haven't figured things out entirely, maybe only 70% or so, but I am much further along on the "figuring-things-out" spectrum than I was when I was two months from graduating from college. What I can say, after having been out of college for three years and made it through the rough ride of the quarter-life crisis, after having had the first job and the first big bills to pay, and the first real twenty-something relationship, is these are the things I want for my life:

- Painting in a sunlit room on a Saturday afternoon.
- A piano, and the time to play it.
- The company of a dog and cat.
- Enough money to buy some groceries at Whole Foods.
- Picnics in the park and hiking in the mountains.
- Living in a place that has cobblestoned, tree-lined streets and the changing of the seasons.
- Tea: chai, Earl Grey, jasmine...

Funny, these are the same things I have wanted basically since college, and they're mostly free. I guess the things that continue to make you happy don't really change, regardless of how high you've climbed on that proverbial ladder.

For you artists out there:

-What to do when you're bored with those hands of yours
-Creepy lifelike sculptures that will titillate your sense of perception
-Pretend you're Jackson Pollock (click your mouse to change colors)
-All about Dali, with wallpapers for your computer

Oof!

I have made it through a "big deal" kind of event. I know you probably don't want to talk shop, and I probably shouldn't give many details. But suffice it to say that my boss' boss (the kind of person who always travels business class, lives in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, has the corner office with crown molding and a mahogany desk) was in town for an extended weekend... and everything went very smoothly. Whew. I also met some very interesting people: we had a dinner - lobster, scallops, rockfish mmm! - for 15 at the French Ambassador's residence on Friday evening, visits to various organizations on Monday (which was a very strange and eventful day, the low point of which the embassy chauffeur ran over a cat in Arlington). I'm not going to go into much more detail, but I will also say that sometimes, when you are the only 25-year old woman in a room full of men who are directors of such and such and hold PhDs in so and so, it is a) hard to get people to pay attention to you and b)when they do it is hard to get them to take you seriously. I will leave it at that.

After my diplomatic dinner on Friday (I had been on my very best behavior) I was ready to let my hair down. Man Friend, our buddy "Tetra" and I went to a coworker's place for his goodbye party (he left for France last Sunday). This coworker is the archetype of the French dude - kinda short, long dark hair, glasses, a big fan of Ricard, with the pitch-perfect French accent, and as soon as he saw Tetra and MF promptly gave them a sweaty kiss on each cheek. We proceeded up to his apartment where there were about 50 people crammed into a smoky and smoking hot living room, dancing and bouncing around to bad 80s music with crazy hats on their heads. I love how French people really could care less what they look like when they dance. It's such a refreshing change from the pretentiousness of American clubs. And there's no grinding! Needless to say it was a great time, but it was nothing compared to the party we went to on Saturday.


Another coworker (yes, the French do lots of parties, and do them well) lives in a house on Foxhall with two other internationally-minded types: a Frenchman and an Italian. They always throw theme parties; one was a white party where you had to dress in all-white; another was a Hawaiian luau. This one happened to be a "back to school" party (read: Catholic schoolgirls, of course). Total damage, ie number of empty bottles lying around on Sunday morning (and this is according to my coworker, whom I will call Le Toulousain) was:

Whisky : 2
Gin : 2
Rum : 8
Wine : 20
Vodka : 12
Beers: 100+

Le Toulousain and his housemates throw some sick soirées. Tetra had so much fun we had to drive him home before we resorted to duct-taping him to a sofa so he wouldn't get into too much trouble (more on that some other time).

Sounds like the majority of people I know

"Cockroaches are morons in the morning, geniuses in the evening"
"Dramatic daily variations in the cockroach's learning ability are reported in a new study performed by Vanderbilt University biologists and published online this week in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences."

Thanks to Eurekalert for another tidbit of totally useless information.

Oh no

"Consuming large amounts of caffeine while taking acetaminophen, a widely used painkiller, could potentially cause liver damage, according to a preliminary laboratory study. The toxic interaction could occur not only from drinking caffeinated beverages while taking the painkiller but also from using large amounts of medications that intentionally combine caffeine and acetaminophen, the researchers say. "


How am I going to get through Mondays now??

Ten years of hindsight

I like to people watch (I could spend hours people watching). Last Friday night at the movie theater the place was teeming with teeny boppers, Britney Spears wannabes, bref, just your general teenage population stuck at the movies because they can’t yet drive anywhere. Like I said in one of my previous entries, I’m glad I’m not a teenager anymore. Perhaps with 10 years of hindsight, now I can safely say I’ve made it, and also offer a few words of wisdom.

If I could go back in time, and in the future if I ever have a daughter, I would say:

Your worth is not determined by your low-rise jeans, your glossy lips, your Coach bag, the straightness of your hair, your easiness. Don’t let any guy tell you otherwise.

You might get bored with the same old Friday night at the movie theater and Saturday night at the local coffeehouse. Enjoy it while you can, before you become a slave to the college textbook.

That really pretty girl is probably just as insecure as you are. Don’t judge her, for everyone you meet might be fighting a harder battle.

Less is more: less skin, more intrigue; less flash, more class.

Be choosy when picking your friends; be pickier when choosing your boyfriend. True friendships and the best relationships work both ways: you have to give in order to receive, support in order to be helped. It’s like a rubber band: both people pull equally. But if one or the other pulls too hard, there is too much resistance for it to work and the rubber band will snap.

Someday you will look up to your parents again. You might even start to admire them. For now, just know that your mom is probably always right and your dad most likely has your best interests at heart. In the end, they are the ones who will always be in your corner.

As awkward as adolescence is, and as much as you want to get through it as quickly as possible, make the most of it: you’re only a teenager once. Take your time growing up, and go at your own pace. You have lots of time in college and in your 20s to explore.

In the grand scheme of things, the most embarrassing situations now will be funny to you in ten years. That might not diminish their importance in the present, but it might help you not take yourself so seriously.

Your world might be tiny. Try to expand it, and it’ll put your problems into perspective.

I know you think you’re invincible. But take good care of your body; it’s the only one you’ll ever have.

Talk to me in ten years and I can tell you what I’ve learned from my twenties!

Two rafts

Question: "If you were on a raft and had to choose between saving a baby and a dog, which one would you pick?"

My answer: "I wouldn't have to pick! There would be two rafts, one rescuing the babies and one rescuing dogs. "

Ever notice how people who question why you would volunteer at an animal shelter or make a contribution to the Humane Society (instead of volunteering at an orphanage or sponsoring a child in Africa) don't dedicate their time or money to any charity?

Summer daze

I'm still walking around in a daze after a long vacation in France. It feels like when you were little, in grade school, and the summer was almost over and the entire school year was looming over your head, and you were really worried about who your science teacher was going to be. No more lazy days at the pool and biking to the Soda Shop for a milkshake. Nope, those days are over - now it's time for waking up early, wondering what to wear, downing a Pop-Tart and catching the cheese-wagon, hoping Geoffrey the red-haired kissy monster won't be on it (by the way, there really was this redhead named Geoffrey in the first grade who would chase girls around the playground, hence the name 'kissy monster.'). That's how I've felt since I got back from my trip.

The only fun part of back-to-school was new clothes. Maybe I should do some retail therapy. Oh and buy some pens. I love new pens.

The vacation wasn't a true vacation, actually: we were very productive planning for next year. Planning a wedding has not been as traumatic as it is generally portrayed in movies or on that awful show "Bridezillas" (I can't stand those people). It's actually been quite fun (picking out the dress - the second one I tried on was it) and easy (finding the all-in-one location site). All the big details are taken care of already, and the rest of it we take care of via email. Bada-bing! I should become a wedding planner.

I don't understand how weddings have become such a big production nowadays. I just don't think it's healthy when your obsession with having a monogrammed aisle runner or matching sashes on the bridesmaids dresses have become more important than the ultimate purpose of the wedding (and what comes after the party's over). It's like it's some huge traumatic event that you're supposed to be super-stressed about. How are you supposed to enjoy your day? And I also don't understand the level of extortion that is inherent in the bridal industry. A nice bouquet of flowers at a grocery store? $12.99. Oh, but a bridal bouquet? $120.99. Some of the dresses I've seen can only be described as fugly (like a Barbie doll princess gown that a big pink bird seems to have exploded onto) but they cost upwards of $10,000 and you wear them once. Sheesh! I think I will pick the flowers myself and tie them with a pretty ribbon, thank you very much. As for the dress, it is a tenth of a price of those designer ones and a hundred times prettier, in my humble opinion.

Since coming back from France I have had to catch up on my movie-watching, namely, the summer blockbusters that I can't believe I'm paying $10 to go see:

Superbad was supercrass, and lowbrow, and terribly offensive, but I couldn't help laughing in spite of myself at the hilarity of some of the situations and awkwardness of the main characters. I say in spite of myself because I did cringe...perhaps it's because I can't really identify with the hormone-crazed teenage boy (or college guy, for that matter) whose ultimate goal in life is getting laid. And call me old-fashioned or prude, tell me to lighten up if you will, but I can't stand the p word and my ears got a full dose during this movie. I can say the movie seemed authentic in its portrayal of high school boys, and I'm really happy I'm not in high school anymore. Not the kind of movie I would go see with any of my family members. Especially my 15-year old brother (the Bourne Ultimatum was solid, though, and so was the Simpson's Movie).

Last weekend I went to a Brazilian steakhouse, Fogo de Chao, for a friend's birthday. It was a true "meat party:" all-you-can-eat meat - sausage, chicken, filet mignon, roast beef, lamb - served to you on swords by "gauchos" (ie waiters). It was truly gluttonous. And wonderfully tasty. Glad I'm not a vegetarian even though I do sometimes feel really guilty eating meat. Happy birthday Victoriño!

I Love DayQuil

It is almost July and I have a fever of 101, a sore throat, and a NyQuil hangover. Not fun. Especially since my parents, aunt and uncle are coming up tomorrow for the week. We're trying to figure out what to do for the 4th of July. My friend P is throwing a party at his place in Adams Morgan but I don't think it's the kind of party I can/want to take my parents to, much less my 75-year old uncle. We would have a nice view of the fireworks from the rooftop, but that involves shimmying through a bathroom window onto the fire escape and then climbing up a ladder (hello, vertigo).

I was in Houston ten days ago for work. No offense to you Houstoners, but Houston is the kind of American city that makes me depressed: humidity, sprawl, strip malls, concrete, no charm or history...a kind of generic, corporate, overbuilt bland metropolis where there are no pedestrians (we walked back to the hotel one day after our meeting and got honked at at least 5 times in 15 minutes). I saw at least 3 Office Depots and 4 Starbucks on the way from the airport. Oh, and a drive-through Starbucks, too. How lazy can you be, people!

We did have a nice time at the dinner though, where we were treated to some really good margaritas and Texan barbecue. But it's true that I was glad to return to my little Washingtonian enclave where there are trees! - and old houses!! - and sidewalks!!!

In other news, I found the wedding dress of my dreams. It's by a Spanish designer called Pronovias. And no, you can't see it! Wedding plans are in the works...we're going to be married next summer in France, near Bordeaux where my family lives. I hope to have a website all about it up and running soon.

Speechless

A lot has happened since my last entry.
I celebrated my 25th birthday last week and it was one of the most memorable weeks of my life, I think: dinner on Thursday with MF at La Ferme, a French restaurant (delish); tapas and margaritas at Oyamel on Friday, followed by martinis and dancing til 3 at Blue Gin; recovery on Saturday with Red Bull/Gatorade/jasmine tea/Alka Seltzer/greasy breakfast; and then I had about 15 people over to continue the celebration on Saturday evening where we cooked hamburgers/made S'mores/sat under the wisteria arbor with Christmas lights twinkling/ate birthday cake and drank champagne/took group pictures in the studio. And then Sunday we went to Middleburg, VA at Chrysalis Vineyards for some wine, a picnic with leftovers and a walk in the countryside. I can't think of a better way to have spent my 25th, especially in the company of such good people.

Also, I am engaged to be married. AAAAAAA!!! MF flew to Switzerland (all the while telling me he was in Rochester NY for a business trip...sneaky monkey) to get a diamond from his grandmother; and proposed in front of the Tiny Jewel Box in DC. It's impossible for me to get any work done right now...I feel woozy!

Bienvenidos a Miami!

I'm going to Miami tomorrow until Tuesday to visit my best friend from college. Yay! In the very near future I see: cocktails, the beach, a boat ride and flashy cars. And probably sunburn too, although I wear SPF 50, a hat, shirt and sunglasses.

Photos to follow. Cheers!

25

I turn twenty-five a week from tomorrow. Ack!! That's halfway to 50 and halfway in between 20 and 30. Yikes!!

I always thought 25 was so old. I don't feel old now though, I feel like my life is just starting. I am so blessed in so many ways, grateful and humbled by how kind life has been and how many things I shouldn't take for granted: good health, a man I love that loves me, my family, my amazing friends, a job I feel fulfilled in and that gives me a glimpse of what a true career is, and enough money to live comfortably and travel every now and then...I am humbled because I know it's not the same for many, many people I share this planet with. Every now and then I have to remember not to take it all for granted...it's easy to let life pass you by without stopping to appreciate it.

The other day, for example, there was an accident on Canal Road on my way home from work. It wasn't moving at all so I decided to turn around and park near Lock 6 by the river. I had my yoga clothes (a tank and a pair of sweatpants) with me and changed into those in the car, but I had no tennis shoes - although I did have a pair of big blue slippers still in the backseat from my last trip back home to NC. So I went walking down to the river to watch the sun over the water. People on the trails were looking at me like I was bonkers: I was wearing workout clothes with blue slippers. But I could care less. It was better than wearing my black pointy-toed work shoes. I sat next to the water and just enjoyed the scenery and let all of the other drivers back on Canal Road fight traffic.

Tuesday evening MF and I had dinner with our friend G who is an amazing cook: she made curry salmon (the homemade kind where you add each individual spice yourself and let it simmer). And then we watched the movie Kinky Boots: I highly recommend it. It's like the Full Monty - British humor, cross-dressers and bad teeth. It's the story of this little shoe factory in a sleepy town in England that is going belly up, so the owner decides to start making kinky boots for drag queens (basically, patent leather stilettos that are tough enough to hold a man's weight) and hires one as his shoe designer. It's funny but also endearing - especially in terms of social acceptance, identity and open-mindedness. One of the lines that sticks with me is "Change your mind about someone." I'll leave it at that - you should see it.

Playing Dress Up

Warm weather is finally here, after two weird weeks at the beginning of April. It makes me ancy (antsy? ansy?) or however you spell it.

I tried on wedding dresses this past weekend. Fear not, I am not getting married anytime soon (the thought of planning and paying for a wedding actually makes me break out into a cold sweat and rash). The reason I tried on dresses is that I am going to be modeling for an event at the Four Seasons Hotel - I think it's an event for wedding planners and brides or something like that - and wearing a dress from Hitched and jewelry from the Tiny Jewel Box. They are also going to fit me with a Marie-Antoinette style wig. It should be very glamorous and fun...as long as I don't trip over myself at the event (this dress I am wearing is huge...why anyone would actually wear that on their wedding day is beyond me, considering how limited your walking/dancing capabilities would be under these 500 pounds of satin and tulle.).

I hope I don't jinx myself. Is it bad luck to wear a wedding dress if it's not your wedding day?

Candy Ass

So I have a funny (albeit bittersweet) story. Last night MF (Man Friend) and I went to a Thai restaurant. Somehow between the Chicken Satay and Pad Thai I started talking about my cousin Emma's wedding. She got married in 2003 in France, more specifically at Aubeville, this little tiny town of about 10 people in the countryside near Bordeaux where my family lives. Anyways, the conversation went something like this:

Me: "It was honestly the most beautiful but the most simple wedding I've ever been to...she arrived in a horse-drawn carriage with flowers in this beautiful brown and gold dress for the civil ceremony, and then changed into her wedding dress for the religious ceremony, they got married in this 15th-century tiny Roman chapel, and she made the bouquets for the chapel herself, and had her family members sing the music, and then you walk out of the chapel and it's just fields of sunflowers..."

And then I start tearing up and then just start outright crying at the restaurant and cover my face with my napkin, and stop talking entirely because I'm choking up, at which point MF says (jokingly, and lovingly, of course):

"You candy-ass!"

And then I try to explain that I wasn't crying because of the sunflowers or how pretty the wedding was, but because I have an image in my head - all I can think of is my grandfather kissing the bride outside after the ceremony and he is crying, and people are throwing rose petals. My grandfather would pass away two years later, on Oct. 13th, 2005. I still miss him so much. And so I try to explain this to MF who is looking at me like I am one of those sappy candy-ass emotional girls crying at a Thai restaurant over sunflowers!

Also, my family's place in Charente is a very special place for me, and it reminds me of my grandfather and my childhood - I spent every summer there when I was little. My mom cries every time we leave, without fail. My grandfather always said that the sunlight in Charente was the most beautiful and would tell us stories about his youth there.

Some really good news and some not as good news

Really good news: I am moving on up in my career! I know that I said before on this blog that I wouldn't talk shop, but it is pretty exciting to have a promotion. I've never had a promotion (granted I have only been on the job market for all of three years)!
All I will say is: I get to go to Paris for work twice a year for a couple of weeks at a time. Woot! Tonight we are celebrating with our good-looking lawyer friends (as opposed to our good-looking engineering or consultant friends - I know it sounds kind of trite or superficial and silly but it really is true that all of our friends are indeed successful and good-looking when I stop to think about it) by having fondue (cheese AND chocolate) and champagne.

Not as good news: I went to dentist for the first time in nearly two years this past week. I have THREE cavities. This is not good. I've never had a cavity in my life. It makes me feel like a horrible candy-eating, slacker-brushing person. So now I have to do some serious damage control and have to swish this fluoride thing after breakfast. I hate going to the dentist and being admonished and made to feel very guilty ... this is why no one likes you if you are a dentist and that within the medical profession dentists have the highest suicide rate.

On a random note I also learned where the middle finger gesture came from. Apparently in WWI the Germans would cut off the middle finger of their prisoners (the middle finger was used to fire guns) and so the prisoners would show them the middle finger to essentially say: ... well you know.

Ok. So let me wrap my head around this:

A guy is exiting the Gare du Nord train station yesterday afternoon around 5pm in Paris when he is stopped for a "control" (where the train station agents check to make sure you have a ticket or "titre de transport"), and he doesn't have a ticket. Then he hits the two agents, one on the shoulder and one on the face. And then from there policemen arrive and break this guy's arm for assaulting the agents. So we know this guy that didn't have a ticket is stupid, and probably the police reaction was heavy-handed as well.

But it doesn't stop there. Four hours later a bunch of punks arrive at the lower level of the station and have a stand-off with the police and it degenerates into these kids looting stores in the station, setting fire to trash cans, yelling "Nique la France!" and breaking stuff. Are these kids bored? Do they have nothing better to do than go around vandalizing stuff? Does that mean they think it's okay to bum a ride on a train without a ticket or that it was unreasonable for the agents to do their job and conduct a routine inspection? If these kids have a cause, they're not helping to promote it by doing what they've done. It seems they just want to take part in the name of anarchy, because resisting any kind of authority is cool.

Even if the police acted in a manner that was more brutal than necessary (and should have done anything to prevent this from escalating) this whole incident makes me embarrassed for France and ashamed of the people of my generation. It's pathetic and maddening. Especially when you consider that the Gare du Nord is where the Eurostar train arrives, and you have tourists maybe getting their first glimpse of Paris in the middle of this chaos. Police in heavy duty riot gear, tear gas and a bunch of delinquents running around stealing shoes from Foot Locker doesn't exactly make for the nicest welcome. France certainly has its own problems...

You can see a video from Youtube here.
Also, the BBC has more.

Mangoes in Acapulco

The mangoes in Acapulco are so sweet. The way they eat them in Mexico is by taking a fork with three prongs, and the middle prong is longer than the others. You stick this fork into the mango and insert the longer prong into the seed. Then you peel the skin off the mango and eat the whole thing like a popsicle. I ate mangoes everyday while I was in Mexico.

We got up every day with the sun and walked on the beach while the mist was still lifting from the ocean and pink and purple hues were just starting to show in the sky. Breakfast, around 8:30 or 9, was huevos rancheros (scrambled eggs with chorizo and salsa verde) with tortilla, fresh papaya, kiwi, watermelon and pineapple; good strong coffee, fresh-squeezed orange juice and buttery flaky croissants. We were famished after walking on the beach for an hour or so.

The better part of the morning and early afternoon was spent reading in the shade by the pool or under the tent near the ocean, taking pictures or playing in the waves which if you weren't careful could a) knock you over or b) pull you out to sea (Acapulco is notorious for its undertow and strong currents). Lunchtime was when we were hungry, and we ate so well. On various days we had: homemade mole; enchiladas; homemade spaghetti; salad with avocadoes; tacos with beans, chorizo, lettuce, avocado and cheese; and then mangoes for dessert.

Siesta was on a chair by the pool facing the sea, under a thatched straw arcade so the sun wouldn't burn. The constant breeze and 88 degree weather was perfect. We had 12-hour days so sunset was at 7:30 and the entire bay became golden and things became calm when the sun dipped. And then a shower and dinner brought relief from the sand and sun. After dinner I read "Hola Mexico!" which is like "People" for Mexicans (but a lot classier) until finally crashing into vacationally-induced blissful sleep around 10. Party animal, I know.

One morning after breakfast we went to the local supermarket - the Walmart. Yes, the Walmart. It is twenty minutes away on foot, on an avenue that is lined with palm trees and borders a gigantic golf course. We bought Mexican chips and candy at the Walmart. One candy is called Bubu Lubu, it is chocolate with marshmallow and some kind of jam. So yummy. That was our only excursion since we were far away from the Acapulco downtown area (and apparently it is not very nice to see, like Myrtle Beach times ten) and were only visiting for three and a half days. One young man was selling silver jewelry in a palapa on the beach near our place. Another lady was selling genuine pearl necklaces for $30.

Not too far away from the apartment there is a huge hotel called "Princess" with several pools, many tourists, bars, and Mexican riff raff hanging out on the beach in front of the hotel offering gringos everything from massages to pot to horse rides to ATV rentals. But where we were, there are only apartments and condominiums, owned mainly by Mexicans, and since it was a low season we had the entire place and the pool to ourselves. Everyone we met was so friendly. There is also a bar near the pool where we had pina coladas, margaritas and fresh coconut (cut for you on the spot) while lounging around the pool.

So now, it's back to reality...I like feeling what I can only describe as "dépaysée" every now and then, enjoying things to the fullest...

Mini Spring Break

Ladies and gentlemen, I will be AWOL for the next few days enjoying the sun in Mexico. Acapulco, Mexico, where it will be 88 degrees Fahrenheit every day and the margaritas are on the house.

Not to rub it in your face or anything while you freeze over in the District. Tata!

Daniel Craig is yummy

Casino Royale with martinis on Saturday night sure beat standing around in a crowded Irish pub waiting for a Guinness to celebrate St. Patty's Day. And anyways, I'm not Irish! (At least I don't think I am, but I do enjoy a nice slice of potato bread every now and then)

Experimented with new cocktails Sat. evening: one called a Blue Lady is especially yummy: cream, chocolate liqueur, and blue curacao.

Also am totally sore from yoga yesterday. Everyone around me in my class kept audibly farting...at least they weren't the smelly kind.

Also particularly peeved that Mother Nature wasn't cooperating Friday evening...Spiderman (the boyfriend) and I tried to go to a friend's house for a party - something I had been looking forward to for at least two weeks now because whenever this friend and his roommates throw parties I am always out of town - but the roads were slick with an inch of ice. Boo.

So to sum it up the weekend was pretty low-key, and this week is going to go by fast since we're leaving to go to Acapulco on Thursday morning. Woot! My next post will therefore be much more interesting, with pictures of sunsets on the beach in Mexico included.

Paris je t'aime

My boss sent me a Powerpoint of Paris. Pictures in the dusk, in the morning, at night under the rain - in every picture, a piece of the city that invariably looks beautiful, nostalgic, quaint, calm, inviting, warm. To go along with the pictures is a song by Charles Aznavour singing about youth and friends and being a carefree twenty-year-old. So for a moment I am taken back to the city's statuesque monuments, its energy and aesthetic that is so gorgeous it almost hurts.

And then I realize that the City of Lights is also grimy, and the heat in the subway in the summertime is stifling, and it's full of tourists and peddlers and people who will rip you off, and there is graffiti and lots of cigarette smoke and rude people and smelly people (yes it's true), and it is overpriced and the Seine is dirty, and the weather is rarely nice in the fall-winter-spring seasons like it is in DC. There are very ugly parts of Paris, too: next time you're there, take the RER train to the Charles de Gaulle airport through the northern suburbs (the "American Dream" in Suburbia is definitely an American phenomenon...).

But in my mind's eye Paris will still and always be a place that actually lives up to its reputation, where even the streetlamps and the trash cans are pretty; where the Eiffel Tower, as cliché as it sounds, lit up at night looks like a concoction of golden lace, a woman's corset, a bizarre champagne glass...where birds in Victorian cages adorn windowsills looking over trees and cafés, where people sit for hours watching other people.

Perhaps this idealistic view of Paris is because of my childhood: I am very lucky to have spent all of my childhood summers in France, and we usually spent a few days in Paris. I think it was in 1989, when I was six, I roller-skated around the city with my mom and dad while we were there for the summer. I had hot pink rollerskates with purple and silver stars on them. That year was the bicentennial for the French Revolution and so on July 14th it seemed like the entire city was out in the streets. I remember being on my dad's shoulders and being so scared when people were throwing firecrackers onto the sidewalk. We walked home for two hours because the subways were full. But I loved it.

One of my dreams for a few years now has been to live in Paris - for at least a short while. I know that if I do ever live there, my idealistic vision of the city - already a bit tainted - will truly be dashed to pieces. My family who lives in Paris never actually go to the monuments (just like I, as a "Washingtonian," have rarely been to the monuments in DC either). I would probably live in a shoebox attic apartment somewhere and complain all the time - as the French do - about any and everything. I would use my weekends to get out of the city and go to the countryside. I know this.

But at least I might get this Paris bug out of my system.

Crankjockeys and a dog named Snax

So the other night I went to see Flip Orley at the DC Improv. Flip is a hynotist-slash-comedian and I think his show is one of the funniest things I have ever seen. He invites volunteers from the audience - maybe 20 or so - to come up on stage and participate in the hypnosis and then progressively narrows the crowd down to the people who are totally hypnotized by asking them their names (but tells them beforehand that they won't be able to remember their names, and the ones who go completely blank are hypnotized).

So you're left with 7 or 8 people on stage, and Flip devises these funny situations, like "Every time I say the word green you will smell something horrible coming from the audience," or "When I snap my fingers you will think my clothes have all fallen off." Or even, "when I say the words ladies and gentlemen, you will think someone is gooching you from under your seat." And then he gets them to tell us any random thought that is popping through their heads: "I have a dog named Snax with an x." "Don't let me poke myself in the eye, I just had Lasik." Doesn't sound as funny on paper... I think you had to be there to appreciate the hilarity that ensued.

One such situation is that all of the people onstage were in a British yodeling-slash-rock band in the 80s together and that they all dislike each other, but they're back for a "Behind the Music" type of show on VH1 or MTV. So this one guy states (in a really bad British accent) that they are called the "Crankjockeys" and then proceeds to demonstrate how the group yodeled on the song Magic Carpet Ride: "Oh lay HEE HOOOOOO! YEAH! Magic Carpet Ride dunna nunna!" It was classic.

The funniest thing is the people's expression on stage. While everyone in the audience is laughing their head off, they are totally straight-faced throughout the show.

In other funny things (and COOL IDEAS!) my friends are throwing a Rubiks Cube party next weekend. Yes that's right. You're supposed to dress up in a Rubiks Cube color. I'm guessing they will have fun colored red and blue and green drinks and lots of Rubiks Cubes to play with or just put in your pants. It should be a good time and it's too bad I can't go...I will be in Me-hi-co for a long weekend-slash-short spring break (I'm not complaining).

Twentysomething...and strapped for cash

Today was hot and so everyone at work was in a bad mood. My coworker who will remain unnamed pops in, sits down and we both start to commiserate about being young and fabulous...and broke, stuck paying our dues and living out our twenties as slaves to "the man." I remember when I was an idealist in college and thought money didn't matter, only that you felt fulfilled in your chosen profession and then everything would be rosy. Ha!

Hmph. Think I will go eat some ice cream.

Yoga is not for Sissies

In the last few months I have started to do vinyasa yoga. For any disbelievers as to the difficulty of yoga, let me correct your assumptions and tell you right off the bat that it is really hard, and it will kick your butt.

Spiderman (my boyfriend - I will call him that since he sincerely believes he is an arachnid-man) thought it was "girly" until I took him to a class where all the guys - half the class - looked totally diesel and my dearest ended up huffing and puffing his way through the asanas until he collapsed into a sweaty mess onto his mat (I was also like this the first few times). I am very proud of him, though, because now he goes too and is not only Spiderman but will someday be a master yogi.

In yoga, you will find yourself in some very compromising positions, things you had never thought you could make your body do: putting your legs over your head, reaching around with your right arm between your crotch to catch your left arm under your right thigh, squatting while balancing on your tippy toes. You wouldn't want anyone tickling you while you do this.
Wear long pants, for the love. Also, mind you, this is done in a room that is heated to your body temperature, so it is generally inevitable that everyone leaves a nice little puddle of sweat on the floor after their practice.

So why would anyone engage in such masochistic tendencies? Sometimes I too ask this myself in the middle of crow pose when I'm trying to balance my entire body on my elbows.

I, for one, wasn't able to do a pushup 4 months ago. I cheated and did the dinky knee-on-the-floor-pushup for middle school girls. Now I can do LOTS! And they're not the knee-pushup, they are the real deal. Also, I feel really energized afterwards - but not tired. That's the chakra, the mojo, being released and helping to keep the yang up :0)

I've also been much more aware of my breathing and posture during the day. It's funny that I pay someone to teach me how to breathe; but in our society we're not really aware of that. It's the same reason I will pay good money for a great massage, which is essentially paying someone to touch you for 60 minutes: it's all about focusing on yourself for a moment.

One more thing about yoga, though: all the release of that energy comes out in different ways too. At one particularly crowded class some woman kept releasing her foul-smelling brew three feet away from my face, and this in a space where you are being told to focus on your breathing! There are also people - male and female - who come to class wearing little more than tiny shorts made of dental floss. Avoid placing your mat directly behind these people, you will regret it in cat pose. And like I said before, wear long pants.

The Art of Blogging

So... have decided to jump on the blogging bandwagon. It's about time, I guess! Anyone know the rules for blogging? Are they as similarly contrived and outdated as the rules for dating (like at Bob Jones University in SC where you must ask for permission to kiss someone)? Are you supposed to be witty and funny a la Bridget Jones when you spill your guts into cyberspace?

Because it seems like there are a lot of blogs out there that I wouldn't really want to read. Ie, some guy I've never heard of writing about their coffee date with the girl from their office who has really big ... teeth. Or is the main purpose of blogging so that your friends around the world can have a peek into your everyday life? I suppose that could be part of it. I've also heard about people who blogged about their jobs or their bosses and got fired. So I will be refraining from mentioning any names or details about my work life. Besides, who wants to talk shop on their own time?

Speaking of Bob Jones University, it's kind of funny that the initials turn out to be BJU. Right. Mind in the gutter. But remember, this is a place where girls are expected to wear ankle-length skirts and pantyhose to class. Kind of ironic, you have to admit.