Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Totally Wackadoodle.

I've been watching too much Project Runway, because the title of the blog is totally stolen from "Suede" on the fifth season.... But it fits!

It's funny, I realized today that the way I think about the French has shifted drastically. I think at the beginning of the exchange I associated myself more with a European/French mentality than an American/Canadian one, but now I've totally flip flopped on the whole thing.

I don't know, maybe it was because compared to my friends I always kind of felt my family got a heavier European influence (whether from my parents or grandparents or whatever), just with cooking styles, eating habits, switching back and forth from English to French.... I still think that holds, we're definitely more European than your average Canadian family, but on my newly enlarged scale of what defines Canada and what is European, I now know that I'm DEFINITELY a Canadian gal, 100%.

Example of French ludicrousness:
We were just sitting in our "Savoirs culturels" class during our "pose" (break) and then this AIR RAID alarm comes on, which in itself is not that unusual (they test the air raid alarms the first Wednesday of every month to make sure they still work from WWII) until we realized it was neither a Wednesday nor the first week of the month.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APgSOmHGSiE&feature=related] Visit this link to hear what it sounds like.
The teacher tells us in this reassuring voice that its a fire alarm. Everyone kind of looks around nervously, but the teacher doesn't really pay attention. Then she starts rooting in her bag and in my row we're all kind of like, "Oh good, she's gonna call someone to see what's going on..." and then she pulls out some change for the coffee machine and just kind of flounces out of the room.
I was like, "What?!?!". Fire alarm going off, everyone is just sitting around, not doing anything, and this is what she does in the crisis moment, get COFFEE?!?! (So French if you think about it, pretty sure during the French Revolution while shit was burning down and people were getting killed some French guy was like, FUCKING SHIT, they burned the Tabac down, now I'll never get any cigarettes...)
Then a few students trickle in and tell us a few people went outside to go for a smoke and one of the teachers flipped out and told them not to leave the building.

So... when there's a fire alarm... you stay IN the building that's potentially on fire?

I don't care if the alarm's coming from the building down the block, if I can hear the friggin air raid horn going, I'm getting the hell out of any building that could potentially burn down around me.
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Like I said, they're a crazy people.

(Turned out the alarm was from the next building over, which still doesn't really explain why we wouldn't want to evacuate the place since we were next to it.)

The best part is their explanations:
"Nah there's no fire here, the alarm would be WAY louder."
"They make the alarms really loud so all the firemen in the city can hear it and come to help." (?! sounds... efficient...)

Anyway, this is by no means a criticism of the French, I think they're loveable in their complete ridiculousness. Like a little brother that is a pain in the ass and annoys the hell out of you but you still love 'em.
......... Kind of like Québec, really.Bahahaha so many people could be offended by this post. Please just read it knowing my tone is incredulous but affectionate. (And that les Québécois are only similar to the French in that they are both ridiculous in their respective annoying ways) <3

Sunday, February 15, 2009

My Middle Finger

I have a whole new appreciation for my middle finger ever since a little bit of it got hacked off by someone's cleats two weeks ago. Someone must of stepped on my hand as it was splayed out on the ground or something, because they basically took off the calloused area on the inside of my middle finger, where it would touch the side of my pointer finger if I had my fingers together.

Here is a list of things you can't do with a hole on the side of your finger:
1) Floss properly.
2) Write (I usually balance the pen/pencil on the aforementioned-but-now-gone callous)
3) Brush my hair. (Don't get me wrong, I can still do it, but if your grip slips it'll split your finger open again...)
3) Sharpen a pencil. (Apparently I grip the pencil exactly with that spot on my finger to hold it firmly in the pencil sharpener, who knew?)
4) Opening mascara. (Same concept as the pencil)
5)Using utensils in a confident and efficient way. (Unless they're Ikea plastic utensils, because they don't bite into your skin like the metal ones)

I just thought everyone should take a moment to properly appreciate their fingers. We take them for granted in their dexterity and usefulness apparently!!!!
P.S - My middle finger is well on its way to recovery and to once again being a helpful member of the Right Hand Team. Thank you for your concern. ;-)

[image belongs to a Steffen Loyal? was unable to find the source]

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Can't Go Back Now

Here's a song I heard today that really meant something to me. So many songs out there right now just talk about parties, dancing, girls, boys, sex, love, sadness... This song just made me kind of sit up in my chair and think: This song is what my life is right now.
Here are the lyrics, though I recommend you listen to the song, it's so pretty.

"Can't Go Back Now" by The Weepies

Yesterday when you were young
Everything you needed done was done for you

Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone, what can you do?


You and me walk on, walk on, walk on

'Cause you can't go back now

You know there will be days

When you're so tired
That you can't take another step

The night will have no stars

And you'll think you've gone as far

As you will ever get


You and me walk on, walk on, walk on

'Cause you can't go back now
And yeah, yeah, you go where you want to go
Yeah, yeah, be what you want to be

If you ever turn around, you'll see me


I can't really say

Why everybody wishes they were somewhere else

But in the end, the only steps that matter
Are the ones you take all by yourself


You and me walk on, walk on, walk on

Yeah, you and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now


(I couldn't get the bloody font under control. Esthetically annoying...grrrr)
I have to stop wishing I was somewhere else. I feel like so much of my life has been spent always looking forward. That's good sometimes (that's dreaming right?), but I need to look around me once and a while. Appreciate where I am now. Where I've come from.

Friday, February 6, 2009

#4. Hankies.

I know, I know, some of you will probably be grossed out, but here's my thinking:

The other day I was blowing my nose (for like the millionth time that day) and as I tossed my tissue in the garbage realized how much paper I must go through in a day... There's the waking up blowing my nose, the getting-inside-after-being-outside blowing my nose (obviously a periodical activity over the course of the day), the been-outside-for-a-really-long-time blowing my nose.... it just never ends!!!!

(Hahahah I found this pic on the net, and the first thing that came to mind was... Hankie from Heaven. But seriously now, why would you want a white, lacey hankie? I would just feel bad getting my snot all over it....)

So I have decided, though it is a controversial and slightly disgusting concept, to make a bunch of hankies out of an old cotton t-shirt I've appropriated and use them over the course of the week. Obviously I plan on washing them very regularly, but just think, always having a hankie on hand? Never wasting bags and bags of paper???

I think it's a pretty good fourth resolution for my eco-challenge. It will start as soon as I've washed that t-shirt.
Apparently this is some kind of marketing project to make hankies look cool.....

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Jack???

Today I saw Captain Jack Sparrow strolling down the street. Except he wasn't really strolling, it was like the drunken stumble/swaying walk that Johnny Depp perfected in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.

This guy was dedicated, I tell ya. Not only was he dressed COMPLETELY the same (his facial hair was real from what I could tell, and I have no idea where you get real leather boots like that) and then just going from A to B he refused to step out of character (no pun intended).
He wasn't even with a bunch of people on his own, just kind of swaying along on the sidewalk, heading to the Pirate Summit at the Palais universitaire????

Completely random.

I was wishing at the time that I had my camera so I could run up to him yelling, "Capitaine Jack! CAPITAINE JACK! Pourrais-je prendre un photo???". Kind of glad I didn't now though, because it would have been disapointing if he didn't speak English. (French Jack Sparrow just isn't the same is he?)

Captain Jack Sparrow winters in Strasbourg when the Caribbean gets a little too hot.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

A Letter from a Friend

I got a message from a friend today.

I thought I'd lost you. I hadn't realized how much I missed you until I got about half way through your message and started to cry. People are so stupid, we let ourselves get so far apart.
If you read this, you'll know who you are.
Thank you, you probably have no idea how much this meant to me.
I miss you.

Itchy, Scratchy, Nagging Feet

I think being on exchange has given me itchy feet. I used to be a homebody, perfectly happy to stay in my country, accumulate objects and make money. Now all I can think about is filling my yellow hiking bag and going somewhere, anywhere....
.....INDIA.

I don't know if it was because my cousin took off on her own and just... went, or some kind of switch was flicked in my brain, but I think about it almost every day. I used to look forward to getting back to Canada so I could back into my rugby/university routine. Now all I can think about is graduating and working so I can take off and be a ragamuffin vagabond for a few months.

Things were so much easier and safer when I was staring at my hands thinking to myself, What can I make? Now I'm staring at the sky thinking, Where can I fly? and my comfortable middle class house with the dog and the window boxes is slowly caving in on itself (at least, the dog waits for me by the crushed picket fence for when I get back).

My dreams are changing.