Ink-Stained Fingers

I've been using this sweet-ass fountain pen that BSto got me from a flea market in Berlin in an attempt to blend in here better. The result is that my right hand constantly has blue smudges, and my ego is stroked cause, let's be honest, it increases my street-cred.

The students here (I imagine that it's not just in this high school, but all over France) take the most amazingly organized and color-coded notes I have ever seen. They have an arsenal of different colored pens and markers to make headings and bullet points, and they even have pen-erasers should they make a mistake in their writing. It's enough to make APat choked up.

The pen of (not-this-year) champions.

A sample day in the life of that American girl in St Brieuc:

6:45 a.m.: alarm goes off

7:10 a.m.: I get up, get dressed

7:45 a.m.: leave the house

8 - 9 a.m.: sit in the teacher's lounge and drink coffee; play on the computer; do the occasional crossword puzzle

9 a.m - 11 a.m. (-ish. This changes daily): teach the children how to talk pretty

12 - 2 p.m.: lunch break (aka I sit in the teacher's lounge after I eat and continue to play on computer)

2-5 p.m.: go to class with the Terminales (~seniors preparing to take the Bac)

3 p.m.: wonder if anyone else knows how smart I am cause I can understand French

3:02 p.m.: wonder if anyone else knows how stupid I am cause I can't understand French

5 p.m.: do the 10-minute walk home

6 p.m. - 8 p.m.: read, watch Buffy on my compy

8 p.m.: help with dinner; eat dinner; help clean up (trying to make Kathy proud)

9-10 p.m.: watch tv with the family

10:30 p.m.: sleep

...I'm incredibly tired here due to the amount of energy it takes to listen to, understand, and speak in French all day. If I'm awake at 11 p.m., shit's about to get real the next day when I down a record amount of caffeine in an attempt to stay awake. And then pee every 5 minutes. I think everyone at this school now thinks that I have a bladder problem. TMI? Probs. Whoops...

Teaching English to these kids has been a lot of fun, but it has made me question the influence of American pop culture. The questions these kids ask me...wow. Sometimes I laugh but then have to recover quickly so they don't think I'm laughing at their English-speaking ability (they're all actually quite advanced, even the 11-year olds that I teach on Monday mornings). Par example:

- do you know 50cent?

- do you have a gun?

- do you live in a mansion?

- do you know anyone in a gang?

- have you met the queen of England?

...apparently American tv and culture has caused the children of France to be under the impression that we are all rich drug lords who hang out with rappers. And the Queen. Of England.

Oh. That's why. And, let's be real here: I hang with 50 like all the weekends. And the queen.

I ate cow tongue yesterday. Yep, that happened. It actually wouldn't have been bad if I hadn't known that it was, in fact, a fucking cow's TONGUE. I told my family that I didn't eat pork in order to avoid it cause I don't like meat that much (that's what she said), so apparently that means they're going to have everything, everything, except pork. I wanted to be polite so I took some, but dear lord. The consistency...I just shivered. WOOF.

Yeah, it was cooked. BUT HONESTLY. THAT. HAPPENED.

I booked my ticket to Thailand last night, so I'll be making my innaugural visit to Asia on February 14. I'm Julia's valentine, and, not to toot my own horn, but I make a GREAT valentine (fellas????).

Julia: meet me at the train like this or we're not spooning for two weeks. Ok, we will, but I won't be as happy about it.

Currently listening to: Boy Omega...my penchant for wrist-cutting German folk music has increased since being in this land of permanently apathetic facial expressions. Don't judge me.

Currently reading: Well, I'm in limbo. I finished reading A Farewell to Arms (Hemingway...and it blew me away. If you haven't read it, go and pick up a copy NOW. It's amazing) last night and didn't have the energy to start anything new. Suggestions?

Currently craving: anything but beef tongue.

Boy Omega. Doesn't he just scream angst and German-type middle-class -self-loathing?

Peace, Love, and Vegetarianism.

- Blowfish

Becoming Carolin

"The Battle of Gettysburg... the third day... Pickett's charge! And the air hung heavily... with the acrid smell of gunpowder... and the stench... of the dead... " - Heart and Souls (amazing movie. go rent it if you've never seen it)

I kid, I kid. It’s my second day here in St Brieuc, and I love it. It’s exactly how you would picture any small French town: narrow, winding roads; small houses with clothes lines out back; a downtown area crawling with bakeries and Starbucks.

it haunts you wherever you go.

My journey here was pretty epic, but only because it was all 5’4’’ of me, two GIANT suitcases, my timbuk2 bag filled to the brim, my Arsenal scarf, and a look somewhere between amusement and terror permanently on my face. Oh yeah, and I was wearing my Frye boots cause, as Gracie taught me, always wear the heaviest pair of shoes you’re bringing.

that, and I was wearing lululemon stretch pants. So yeah, woof.

I slept for about 30 minutes total on the plane, due to the fact that I was really excited, hyped-up on diet coke, and oh yeah, I’M TERRIFIED OF FLYING. There was awful turbulence for 3/4 of the flight, so while I had the row to myself (very comfy), I spent most of the flight clutching the seat in front of me, downing Diet Coke, and praying. Also, Monsters vs. Aliens was on, and who could resist watching that?

Reese Witherspoon, Seth Rogen, Will Arnett, and Hugh Laurie. In this. #hollywoodfail

OH YEAH! The hottest French man I have ever laid eyes on was sitting next to me. As fate would have it, our flight was less than 1/2 full, so five minutes into the flight he moved to his own row. I don’t blame him, but COME ON! Maybe if I had been wearing something slightly more attractive than an old white v-neck Hanes tee he would’ve stayed. Alas, the hottie from Bordeaux escaped my clutches.

The train trip following the flight was just long. Nothing too exciting there, except that I was lugging all of my shit (about 110+ pounds) in and out of trains, much to the chagrin of the other train riders. Whatevs, I’m American and I do what I want. Obvi. Totes. Delish.

After I arrived at St Brieuc, my host mother Josiane took me to the school where I’ll be teaching because she had a meeting and thought it would be a good idea for me to see the lycee. Unfortunately for me, I had, at that point, not slept in the past 26 hours. I was literally seeing stars. I met a whole bunch of teachers who I don’t remember, almost had an anxiety attack sitting in a chair trying to wrap my mind around the next three months, and then decided that I should probably put off freaking out until I had slept for a little while. Good plan, captain!

Reading my blog increases one's useless knowledge by 65%

Everyone here calls me Carolin. It’s fun. It’s like a whole new personality...one that is essentially the same personality as Katie but like, more exotic. Or something. Even across an ocean, I’m still awkward.

Today we went on a really long walk around the bay of St Brieuc. It was really pretty, but of course I forgot to bring my camera, so none of you will ever experience it.

Unless you do a google image search.

Sundays here, it seems, are solely for spending time with family, eating, and going for walks. I like it. I also decided that I want to make a coffee-table-book with pictures of babies in baby-bjorn type things, cause they always have the most amazing expressions on their faces. Especially in cold weather, cause then their cuteness doubles due to silly hats.

You steal my idea, I steal your soul.

I just watched my first Handball match, France against Germany. It seems like dodgeball, except you run around more and you try to score a goal. So really, it’s like dodgeball only in that you play with a ball roughly the same size and shape. OK, maybe it’s more like soccer, except it breaks the most important rule of soccer and people use their hands to carry the ball around the court. So, it’s not much like soccer either. I don't know what I'm talking about. I feel like Livi trying to explain Whirly-ball to me.

The German handball team = hot. Check out the 'stache on the coach, all the way to the right. Pure. Sex.

I’m nervous for my first day of teaching tomorrow, especially since the students I’m going to be working with are, for the most part, going to be between the ages of 18-20. So, I’m barely older than these kids and I’m supposed to be in charge of imparting important English-type knowledge to them. We’ll see how that goes...

OK, well, time for me to continue watching the Australian Open and contemplating tomorrow’s lesson plan. I’m thinking it’ll be something along the lines of: what up, English is easy, let’s watch Buffy.

Obviously a viable teaching tool.

Currently listening to: Australian Open commentary in French discussing the match between Roddick and Gonzales (I’ve come to the conclusion that Andy Roddick isn’t that good, but the fact that he’s married to Brooklyn Decker probably makes up for that in his head. Cause let’s be honest, she’s hot. Also, Andy Murray is better and hotter than Andy Roddick. In the battles of the Andy’s, Murray is by and far the winner. Marry me.).

Currently reading: Madame Bovary (en Francais, bien sur) by Gustav Flaubert

Currently craving: Chocolate. Not sure why. But I want some. NOW.

yeah, that.

Peace, Love, and Cocoa.

- Blowfish

Oh hey, 2010! What are you even doing here?

Hour 12 of the Law and Order: SVU marathon finds me sitting alone in my basement nursing my wounds from last night, watching detective Stabler and his bad-ass marine training help him save rape victims, and mainlining Diet Coke.

Your ability to get confessions is not only slightly frightening, but it's also downright inspiring

I am generally completely against New Year's resolutions (does one capitalize "new" and "year's"? Whatever. I'm going with it) because I don't think that it's appropriate to claim all sorts of new goals and personal growth ideals just because it's January 1st. I chose to ignore winter on principle - I don't agree with the gods' decision to create snow and ice and misery for three months. Also, I go by a calendar I made up myself in which the new year occurs on my birthday. Anyway, I decided to set some completely unreasonable goals for myself because by January 18th most people have left their resolutions by the wayside, so why not shoot for the stars?

1. become an international jewel thief

2. decode cat's meows so that I can hear Dust's diabolical plans before he carries them out

3. marry a one Eric Patricia Marilynn Harper

4. be positive about things in my life and stop chasing things that I can't have

5. master the cello

6. write a doctoral thesis and circumvent the whole "graduate school" thing

Maybe being an international jewel thief-cum-classical-cellist will help me attract my future husband: James Bond.

So, I've got all that going for me.

I'm leaving for France in 20 days. Holy. Mother. Of. Mercy.

Livi update: she just ran down the stairs to inform me that Nick Jonas is in his own band now, and "he actually sounds pretty good. And he's cuter now."

BREAKING NEWS: YOU PASSED THE OLIVIA TEST!

I have a Mac. I sort of feel like I should be a Storm Trooper or something now, cause I've truly joined and embraced the dark side. But it is actually wonderful and I love my little Mac-man. He's beautiful and sleek and he's MINE! I don't know why he's a male, but he is. I shall call him "Petrie".

I'm imperial scum. Woof.

Stabler: I'VE GOT A RUNNER!

Tutuola (Ice-T) punches said runner in the face, knocking him out: I'VE GOT A DROPPER

Currently Reading: Ordinary Men by Christopher R. Browning

Currently Listening To: The witty dialogue of Law and Order: SVU

Currently Craving: a big, fresh, Greek salad. mmmmm....

That, and sitting in an outdoor restaurant in Crete.

Peace, Love, and the dedicated detectives of the Special Victims Unit.

-Blowfish.

I'm changing my name to Cheetah Fine

The Holiday Season is not only upon us, but it's all up-on-us (yeah, that just happened)... thus Livi has taken to wearing a bell necklace and I am now alerted to her presence before she can sneak up on me in the bathroom and scare the living crap out of me (as she absolutely LOVES to do). I love it. It's a lot like the bear-bell that Hannah and Emma got me when we went to Montana. Unfortunately, that bear-bell didn't work and I was mauled by a bear.

That was a lie. I've never been attacked by a bear. Also, never, under any circumstances, Google image-search "bear attack". Trust me.

If there's one thing in the world that I love, it's Arsenal Football Club. If there's another, though, it's movie trailers that provide me with the entire story so that I don't have to waste my money seeing it in theatres. Case-in-point: the trailer for "Leap Year" starring Amy Adams. This is literally the plot (and I'm not making this up): girl wants her boyfriend to propose, but he's not getting it. So, her father suggests she take him to Ireland and, in this oh-so-crazy plot twist, she propose to him, which is some sort of horrible thing that can only be done on February 29 or else the world will explode because of the crazy role-reversal. Or something. Anyway, shit gets crazy and she has to hitch a ride from a totally hot, totally available, totally well-suited-for-her Irish guy. They have a wild time trying to drive his piece of shit car from one end of Ireland to the other, and end up falling in love in a couple days, so that when the trailer ends and Amy Adams is standing in front of her original boyfriend (who, in the course of the movie, got his shit together) who is on one knee proposing, we see her looking longingly at said hot-as-the-day-is-long-Irish dude as if she wishes that they were in yet another role reversal. I am assuming that they end up together, and so should you. And, BAM! Movie.

Get ready for some Irish-themed hi jinx. Or, don't. Cause the entire movie is available on apple trailers.

Also, I'm getting a new compy for Christmas/graduation, so get ready for a blog, live from a mac!

Yeah, I graduated. Crazy... Let me know if you want to read a thesis entitled "naked ladies and why I love them, Attic vases edition"

Dinner is ready, so I gotta cut this short!

Peace, Love, and Chicken Piccatta

-Blowfish.

OH SHIT! IT'S THE COPS!

Sometimes, I go three months without posting. Whoops.

When we last talked, I was complaining about my thesis, going through dental procedures, schlepping Liv, and ingesting large amounts of Crystal Light drink mix. Today, I'm complaining about my thesis, going through dental procedures, and schlepping Liv. I've moved on from Crystal Light to Starbucks "Via" instant coffee in an attempt to stay awake for more than 12 hours at a time...

I'm pretty sure it's illegal in Canada

Anyway, in exactly one week from today, my thesis will be turned in and I will be a free woman! I can't believe that my time at Northwestern/college is coming to a close. Scratch that, yes, yes I can. It's been four and a half years and honestly, I'm ready for the next chapter of my life. As you know, I refrain from writing too much about my emotional state of being (it's better for everyone involved, believe you me), but let's leave it at this: I've been in the same place for 22 years and I'm dunzo with the E for a while.

It's been real, homie.

So, where to now? St. Breiuc, France. Three months of living in a sea-side town teaching English to high schoolers who will most likely ridicule me in French and for my inability to understand their idioms (it's like a bowl in a china shop grace!) and my penchant for fringed clothing. Whatever, joke's on them cause FRINGE IS THE TITS!

Oh hey, picturesque French town! What's that? You're super excited for me to be there too? See you on January 21!

In other news, I'm being so fucking stereo-typical right now I might have to kick my own ass: I'm sitting in my favorite independently owned cafe in Evanston, drinking black coffee (I like to put milk and sugar in it but I think that drinking black coffee makes me seem more intellectual. Woof), listening to obscure indie German pop music on lastfm.com, wearing horn-rimmed glasses, and blogging. At least I don't have a moleskine that I'm writing my observations about the world in....that's visible cause it's currently in my timbuk2 shoulder bag.

Excuse me while I run to Whole Foods to buy my Fair Trade lunch and get a new Sigg water bottle in a cool new pattern that lets people know how much I care about the environment while still filling up my SUV's tank every three days. #hipsterfail

Self loathing: now available in Katie! Ready to ship today!

*Transition sentence*. My exam today looms ever-nearer, and I'm still not studying...Harmony has effectively ruined my chances at graduate school, but at least now I can resolve dominant seventh chords! And dear lord if I wasn't thinking just this summer, "wow, I love listening to music, but I want to know if parallel eighths can occur between the soprano and the bass in a typical aria!" Well, now I know the answer: THEY CAN'T. Little known fact: a parallel eighth will create a black hole as well as a break in the space time continuum that can only be mended by pointing out said mistakes on a test (or by the Doctor coming and rescuing me from said test).

The only thing I like about this is that sometimes it has Latin text that I can translate.

A couple Livi-isms** to get you through the day:

** her comments have gone from cute to mean. Observe:

1. "You love vampires so much! Oh my god! I bet you have a shrune [sic] to them in your closet!"

2. Me: I want a boyfriend. Ugh.

Livi: You should just get a cat. That's how it's going to end up anyway. You with a lot of cats.

3. "I bet you've never even kissed a boy!! And family doesn't count!"

4. Me: I have a new crush.

Livi (rolling her eyes): Is he real? Or is this another vampire?

...pwned.

Currently reading: What? What's "reading"?

Currently listening to: Passion Pit radio station on lastfm

Currently craving: Any member of the Chicago Blackhawks to marry me. Have you looked at their roster? Shiiiiiit....

Need a Green card, Niklas? I'd be down to help you out.

Peace, Love, and GRADUATING!

- Blowfish.

A Little Piece of Advice...

GO TO THE DENTIST REGULARLY! If you don't, you'll end up like me: a thousand cavities; needing a post (which is, for those of you fortunate enough NOT to be familiar with the procedure is when you get a tooth pulled and have to have a titanium screw put into your gum. I shit you not.), a crown, and perhaps a root canal; even a special device to wear while I sleep so that I stop grinding my teefers.

Dear Katie,
Even though your mom spent thousands of dollars on dental procedures while you were a wee child to prevent things like this from happening, your intense fear of the dentist and subsequent missing of appointments for the past five years have caused you to owe me approximately $12,000.
Peace out loser!
Love,
The Dentist

Expect lots of posts about my future painful issues related to this crap. Need I say it? Yes. F.M.L.

In other news, there are two news kitties in my life!

Dr. Anthony Whiskers, my wonderful god son/unlicensed neurosurgeon

Huxtable (Hux!), my amazingly adorable nephew and newest addition to the Micaela and Kristin bachelorette pad

I don't start school for another 21 days, so I'll be spending my days pretending to work on my thesis (as always), schlepping Olivia, and watching Beethoven's 2nd over and over and over.

Charles Grodin deserves and Oscar for reprising his role as the reluctant but loving head of the Newton family

If you haven't seen Inglourious Basterds yet, DO IT! For a really great review of this movie, please see Julia's blog. She's a great writer and her astute observations will leave you seriously jonesing to see this film.

And you surrrriously don't want to disobey me. The consequences are dire. DIRE I SAY!

Hero of the summer: Crystal Light "On-The-Go" drink packets. Because I've had to drastically cut back on my one and only true love (Diet Coke, DUH!), this has made my three-Nalgene's a day bearable and even quite deliciously refreshing.

The Pink Lemonade flavor is my steeeeeez

Currently reading: The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkein (I can't believe I've never read it...I feel ashamed.)
Currently listening to: Jeff Buckley Grace
Currently craving: An Arsenal 09/10 away kit (yeah, I like it! So sue me)

and by "Away Kit", I mean Theo Wolcott in his away kit...

Dear Diary,

Today, I bought a wedding dress. I'm not even joking. I (erm, Aunt Tina, but whatevs) found the most amazing vintage store in the world, right here in St. Louis (indeed, I am in fact visiting "The Show-Me State", staying in Grace's abandoned room, and avoiding doing much of anything despite the fact that I have an entire section of my thesis due on Tuesday and I haven't started it...but more about that later).

For that player-to-be-named-later and my's wedding...yeah, this actually happened. Wedding Fail? Obvi. Woof. And all other words to describe the horror.

In the past month, I've accomplished many things:
1. I decided where I'm applying to grad school
2. I have tan lines
3. I've played in a sprinkler
4. I've gone to New York
5. I've gone to St. Louis
6. I read three books
7. I bought a wedding dress
8. I slept. A lot.
9. I started meditating, though not very successfully

In the past month, I've NOT accomplished many things:
1. I HAVEN'T STARTED WRITING MY DAMN THESIS!

...I'm pretty sure I have some sort of disease, and it's called "can't-do-shit-until-the-night-before-itis". It's really serious, and there's still no cure. I'm counting on new advances in science to help me with this dire condition. Until then, this is what tomorrow night will look like:
+ = thesis? Pray for me.

Yeah, in case you missed it, I went to New York last month to visit Gracie. Here's what happened:

Westville

Brooklyn Bridge


Awkward for me.


The MET


Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory


Central Park


Grace's Apt

Mr. Beaver is quite an accomplished traveller. He's been to NYC, Amsterdam, London, Athens, Paris, Le Mans, Fond du Lac, St. Louis, Lake Geneva, Evanston, Chicago, and Ithaca.

I'm joining my friends' fantasy premier league team. I'm nervous, as this is the first time that I'm taking on such an endeavor. I've done fantasy baseball for the bast six years, but this is a whole new ball game. And, as Matt put in the e-mail to us about the league, "no, Katie, this is not a way for you to line up all the players you think are hot and want to shtup." Way to call me out.

Now, many of you may be asking yourself, "Katie, what sort of genius name have you come up with for your team?" Good. Question. My fantasy baseball teams have all been named various levels of Spartacus (Spartacus, Spartacus II, Spartacus the third, etc.), but I felt like going in a different direction with this one. So, allow me to introduce the best and most amazing Premier League Fantasy Team name EVER: The Chudley Cannons. If you don't get it, you don't deserve to (or, just google it, cause I'm not explaining it).

Live it. Love it. BAM.

Too. Tired. For. The. Usual.

Peace, Love, and Fatigue.

-Blowfish