Humor: just when I needed it

Last night, I came home from being out with friends, was sitting at my lovely antique table (my propriétaire has great taste), checking email when from behind the futon couch came a little scurrying black shadow - running into my open closet. "Oh no you didn't.. snap!" A lil meese? Noooo.. Ugh.

I sat quietly for a few seconds and out of the other side of the closet the little mousey ran to the apartment door, around the wall, and into the bathroom. Of course, my bathroom is totally boring so I climbed up onto a counter top to wait for its exit (a bit of the "Eek! Eek!" fear ala get as high off the ground as possible, plus a good place for observation - ok, more of the former than latter). And, it did exit, running directly into the crevice under/near the freezer. There's plenty of space back there to hide - if you don't get too close to the oven. I waited. No movement. For like half-hour. So, I went to the apartment door, opened it a bit, put a potato chip at the doorway, and climbed into bed.

Woke up this morning to my neighbor's voice, "Loreeen? Loreeen?"
"Huh? Yeah?" I called from my bed.
"Are you okay? Your door is open."
"I know. There's a mouse. I wanted it to leave."
"Okay," he left the door open and I heard him whisper under his breath, "Jesus."

Not sure if it was a "Jesus, now the thing's going to move to my apartment!" or a "Jesus, she's crazy."

Today, I had a list: mouse trap, air mattress. I went off to buy the inflatable mattress over at BHV, a 7-story hell of department store. Remember my story about lines before? And the non-order of walking on the sidewalk? Well, put them all together and you get Bangalore traffic hell, weaving around and between, and after a while just wanting to march through everyone and everything. But, I started my venture calmly with my mp3-player and feeling relaxed.

Sous-sol (basement) level, I asked a young woman where I could find things for "sourise" but of course, the "ou/o" of anything is hard for non-French speakers to pronounce. There's amour, sourise, mort, coeur, soeur, corps. They all sound differently and require different lip pursing and are sometimes ooo, uh, ohr, and darn if I can't get them right EVER. So, she had no idea what I was saying. I made hand gestures of something little and said "chat" and she got it. Then she asked if I wanted blah blah blah and I had no idea what she was saying. (When speaking a language to a foreigner, please please please remember not that you have to YELL your language, but slow it down and really pronunciate like we're morons. It helps.) So, I just made the gesture with finger across my neck of "dead." She pointed me to the jardin section of the store.

Weaved between the hot lights and thousands of shoppers and found the fertilizer section and then the shelves of death. God, I didn't want to do this. Poison, cages, the old school wooden and wire traps that could break a finger. I was looking for this thing, because I thought it was more of a Hungry Hungry Hippo idea, where the mouse would go for the bait and then be trapped in a cute little box.

Instead, I picked up the Powercat Mausefalle, like the former link. I opened it and it snapped shut and I screamed. The older guy next to me, very studious and straight-faced about browsing his death choices, smirked a bit. I shuddered and tossed two of them into my basket.

Yes, yes, yes, I'm all for animal rights and am a vegetarian and, as you recall from my entry about my former Geneva housecat, Lion, I'm really not okay with dead animal parts or wholes. My propriétaire replied to my emails with "Poor mouse. I wonder where she comes from. If there's no food for her, she should leave." First of all, identifying it with a gender makes it all the harder for me, but sourise is a female word so it gets a "la sourise" so it's not really that she's a cute little girl small rat or big mouse, but I think he was trying to get sympathy from me. But I have to house 3 people during the upcoming conference. And, I'm really not interested in going about my business in the apartment to all of a sudden find a mouse staring at me from the garbage cupboard. And all the normal apartment creaks and groans have now become a gigantic King Kong sized mouse that is trying to attack me. Yes, active imagination, but also .... I'm sure it's accurate.

I'm sorry but she's got to go. And I have no idea how I'll deposit her if she is found sleeping peacefully in a heaven of fromage, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. In all actuality, I am firmly believing that she found the open apartment door last night, turned to my sleeping body, and was like, "Ciao!" And, no she is not an extra from Ratatouille either.

With mouse traps in the basket I turned to go off and find an inflatable mattress for one of said 3 guests who will be staying with me. Up the crowded escalators to the 3rd floor. The guy I asked for a "matelas d'aire" didn't understand me at all. I made blowing motions and he said "matelas gonfliable" or something. He didn't know where they were so he pointed me to the bedding department. The woman there said sous-sol and I hollered that off to the guy as I headed off. He smiled and thanked me.

I went off down the escalators to the sous-sol -- again. Found two employees standing around. I do love the politeness of Paris. You don't just walk up to the store employees and ask, "Where are the air mattresses, please?" You walk up, say "Bonjour," they say "Bonjour," and then you move on to your question. So, I did the hellos and asked. He shook his head. Not here any longer, try the 6th floor. Very nice about it. I turned to head to the escalators but the prospect of facing the unorganized herd made me about want to throw-up. I turned back to him and asked where the elevators were. He answered something blah blah laugh laugh question. His colleague smiled and walked away in embarrassment. "Desole? Comment?" I asked back. "Don't tell me you don't have a place to sleep tonight. Because you should just tell me and I'll help you." He laughed, I laughed (that was all in French but I understood), and I laughed all the way to the elevators.

The elevator held 10 people and it beep beep beeped. One guy got off and it kept beeping. I got off. Ugh. Looked for another elevator location - nada. Escalators all the way to the 6th floor. Got the air mattress for 25% off, checked out with the nice girl behind the counter. Headed back to the elevators. I was first in line, but the elevator next to mine opened and those waiting behind me piled on -- of course. Leaving not very much room. While they tried to point to room and invite me in, I shook my head. Whatever. Got the next one down.

I needed that mid-shopping laugh so badly. Not only did it say, you're cute, but also let's joke around.

Well, mice traps out. (Picture me propping them open and delicately placing them on the floor and then jumping back a mile as if they are grenades.) Air mattress in the closet. We'll see what happens in the end.

Reminder

Paris is what she is.
I have to stop living as if I'm living my life in Paris. Instead, I need to live in her.

I've been fighting to retain some of myself, to be who I thought I was.

to keep the ideals of what I know, and even I am less than American. But I should not continue on this way, living as if I am who I was, or that I am who I am. I have to let go of my past and be . here . now .

I'm watching The Dreamers and I see myself in the boy American. Changing shyly in the corner, hiding my body, embarrassed of being nude, embarrassed of exposing myself. This is not literal, but the idea. Americans are born of a war, bred on a Puritanical history, we are not free as we'd like to think we are. This is not political. This is life.

I should not be ashamed. I should not be so self-aware. I should not be so considerate. I should be .... free. And freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.

Paris is not outside me. Paris is not away or a place in which I inhabit. She is contagious. She is infiltrating. She is embracing. Despite political leaders. She is shy on the bus, staring in the lines, judgmental in your appearance. She is. But yet she allows for eccentricity and encourages it. She wants you to be who you are and judges only when you, yourself, are judging you. She can see these things. She reads the uncomfortability on your face. She scorns you for this. She wants... more than anything... for you to be you. For you to be crazy or nuts or scandalous or boring. Be normal or insane. Be quiet or shouting.

I need a greve.

I need to feel Paris shut down and let us all be naked on the streets together. Frustrated. Resisting bureaucracy. But for now she is calm and she is begging me to live.

Finally French, with a Few Flaws

Oh, my horoscope is right:
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): I usually don't have to tell you Bulls how important it is to finish what you've started. You are, after all, among the top three signs of the zodiac when it comes to following through. But just in case you've momentarily fallen under the sway of a delusion that would encourage you to escape before the resolution is fully in place, I'm here to remind you: It's time to make the art of completion your graceful obsession.

I had to fire a colleague from conference planning and now am on my own as the leader of the event, but have learned so many good lessons from this: delegate, communicate, and then, move on if all else has failed.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

So, the firing was Wednesday night. Thursday, I was tired and grumpy when I got up, and it trickled down all day until an outburst that wasn't so nice. Short on rest and finally fed up, I reached a point of no longer being patient with all things French (or Parisian).

The carte de sejour. It's a brutal process to re-apply for the residency permit, but it's made a bit easier at school because there's one poor, sweet woman who attends to all the students (between select hours) for our applications. I remember seeing her last year after waiting for 4 hours one day, and then on another day after a 2-hour wait. The first time I didn't even make it in to see her. After 4 hours waiting, she came out of her office and apologized, but it was the end of the day and she wouldn't be seeing any more students. The second time I made sure I had all the necessary paperwork to ensure I wouldn't have to return - and I didn't! Got the temporary letter of permission, followed it with the doctor visit, and then got the official card to say I could stay in this country.

So, now I'm renewing, which should be easy. But, no bureaucratic thing in France is. I went for my first visit two weeks ago. With about 12 people in line, she wasn't accepting any more applicants at the 3pm hour. Left defeated and irritate. It's about a fifteen-minute walk from class - not much, but it becomes a lot when you're squeezing it in between class, lunch, class.

Returned last week and got in line behind ten people. Waited patiently, got some good work done, and finally got my chance. Had everything needed but a 3-month set of bank statements - I imagine the French government wants to assure spending within its borders or enough money to weather the financial crisis.

While I waited there were like 10 legitimate people for their first visit and repeated line-cutters who only had a few papers to turn in after being turned away with instructions for return.

She's a sweet paper lady, the carte de sejour woman. Does she have a name plate? Nope. Do we know her name on her door? No. She's like anon carte de sejour lady. Smiling even while I could barely write my name for lack of food, which produced hand shaking. She is patient and even-spirited. I'm sure she drinks a whole bottle of Pinot Noir each night and must smoke a pack a day just to get through, although I'm not sure when she'd find time for a break.

Yup, everything in order but the bank statements - a new turn for this year.

So, I came back about a week later. Asked the waiting students how the day was going and realized we had a first-timer, and two who just needed to drop their additions off - bank statements or other papers. Gradually, over the hour I was there, more and more people came and thought they had the right to just go to the office and basically jump the line. I tried my horrible French to ask what they were there for and to indicate that, yes, we were all here for a carte de sejour, which humbled most into getting in line. After about a half-hour with the first-timer in the office, trying to navigate in broken French and English between carte de sejour lady and the applicant, people started to lose their patience. The Aussie gal was like, I'm gonna get sacked if I don't make it back to work. I was corralling people into line. The Canandian boy was too timid to coral and admitted it. The last woman was Chinese, who unfortunately supported my style of dictating to the others.

After explaining to two students, I told the Aussie and the Canadian waiting that it was their turn to keep watch and explain. Aussie had perfect French and convinced a Russsian girl to leave due to time constraints. The Canandian got nowhere and never spoke.

I let the Aussie jump me to get her paperwork in and get off to her job. Then, a woman showed up and I informed her we were all in line for the same thing. She acknowledged and yet still waited at the open door. After the first-timer left, the Aussie went in and was rounding up her paperwork, and then - after me waiting there an hour and half - the French woman took a step inside the office. I know where it came from, from the bottom of my belly, from desperation, from tiredness, from justice, from impatience, from what is right. I jumped up and cut her off and had a heated explain in Franglo (French-English combo) that, dude, she might just have to "posé une question" but we all to just pose a question so get in line, woman. It was quite a complex exchange of my fumbling words and her defensiveness.

But after me not jumping the line, after being patient, after letting Aussie-freak-out-get-sacked, after all of it, I wasn't patient anymore. There is a process in the world - maybe not in France, but in the world there is respect for others and a degree of understanding that you have to wait your turn. And, maybe I was trying to transpose an American value, but dammit, I was fed up with the weird system I was subjected to. So, I Franglo'd my way through and she stormed out - after commenting that I didn't need to be so stressed, that all she had was a question, that it's not a big deal.

I entered to the empty seat opposite carte de sejour lady and she smiled, "Well (in French), I see you've been very patient. Thank you. Let's get this going." I informed her, with smiles and relaxed, that it was no big deal and that I'd be quick and all I had were my bank statements. She basically ignored the rest of my dossier (which she already approved, but generally wanted to look over in 2nd detail review), looked at the dates of my statements, approved, and signed a quick form.

It wasn't that I felt power at that moment, but that I felt justice. I'm still not used to this system where anything goes. Where the line at the post office all of a sudden becomes 2 strange lines because someone inches up alongside instead of behind and then thinks they can challenge you to the open window (when only 2 of 4 are open -- is this not just like Buenos Aires in 1988?). The lines at any window - a train station, a boulangerie - there's no form to them. They are layered and who cares who was there first - it's survival of the fittest - if you can edge up, you get served. So, damn me if I'm going to fight for that window then.

It was quite unusual for me. Even before entering carte de sejour hell, I'd spent 45 minutes in line at the post office to mail my election ballot. I'm patient. I'm even. I'm forgiving and I'm flexible. But only to a point.

I have started to understand the pattern of walking and transportation. It's like India, it seems like mass chaos, but people have their own patterns and rules for merging, signaling, crossing. In Paris, in Europe, the scooters take the free space of the roads or sidewalks, the cars merge quickly, the buses have a greater right if you don't beat them first, everyone has great brakes. Passing on the sidewalk there's no walk on the right, pass on the left. There is no order. It's free for all and each for their own - don't run over the bicyclist, don't rear-end the scooter, don't get rear-ended (and they are MUCH better drivers than in the USA). But it's a pattern I don't get yet. I still think it's more efficient to find a general agreement to path and passing. A conformist understanding. But they seem to make this chaos work. Not for me, not yet. So, when someone cuts the line, I take issue. Or, I took issue.

It felt good to defend myself, but I also felt tremendously like an a-hole.

I'm still not sure how to balance this.

Following this encounter, I was on my home, waiting for the bus. Three young girls, maybe ten or eleven years old, were goofing off waiting for the bus, too. One of them pushed another and she dropped her empty pop can on the sidewalk. They were giggling and pushing each other - you pick it up, no you. A mom walked by with her two kids and pointed the empty can to the girls and scolded them to pick it up. They laughed as she walked off and finger-pointed at each other again - you pick it up, no you. After I noticed that they were almost content to let it sit, I decided to say something.

Frankly, I'd been practicing this in my head since I saw a few juvenile boys launch their burger wrappers into the street. So, I turned to two of them, and said, "Mademoiselle, ça c'est pour la poubelle, c'est ne pas pour la rue." I'm sure this is wholly incorrect, but they both lurched for the can and picked it up and then giggle-fought over who had to deposit it. The bus came so I missed the end of it all. They got on and I read my homework the way home while listening to their giggles on the bus.

This felt less like power or old-lady-correcting, and more like, damn it, I like Paris and she gets trashed too often. Granted, there are paid sidewalk washers and street cleaners and poubelle picker-uppers, but people shouldn't just get lazy about it all. They'll still need the sidewalk washers and poubelle-picker-uppers since dogs still can't seem to pick up their own poops, and pigeons aren't trained yet, and there's still garbage in the poubelle. But at least we could stop adding to the crap.

I still felt like an a-hole. Who am I to think I can take a stand like this? I'm just a visitor. This isn't my country, nor my town. But I do like to abide by the "home is where I lay my head." So, I guess I do feel like I belong and I'd like to respect it.

My French has definitely improved though. So has my courage.

Autumn and things around Paris

School, class, conference - not necessarily in that order of importance or stress. So, for now, some pretty pictures of Paris.

You can always find more on flickr.com (including my snaps from the manifestation for Transsexual Rights, a trip to the country with my class, a party at the Sciences Po MPA)


alteration to a Galleries Lafayette poster in the metro












autumn in the Marais










autumn on the Seine










bowling off Rue Mouffetard










knee-high by July, ready for harvest - outside Paris









My friend as a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence in the march for Transsexual rights

The new "move to France" ad

One doctor visit, 15 minutes late, 30 minutes visit, prescription: 25E


Friendly pharmacist who assumed you were French because of your flawless accent, prescription filled, including antibiotics: 10.27E


Health care in France: priceless

Well, zut alors!

I received a nice comment and email from The Paris Blog inviting me to join as a contributor. I wondered what was involved in becoming a contributor - while I'd love to wile away my hours making intriguing comments on Paris living or reviewing the great restaurants and clubs around town, I do have a thing called a Masters program on my agenda. But the lovely Laurie over at TPB relieved me of any obligations. "As a contrib, you don't have to actually do anything. I will excerpt from your blog now and then, always with a link back to your original." Um, can it get more easy than that?

I'm flattered and humbled and want to welcome any new readers or browsers.

Sheesh.. I was trying to be well-behaved before, knowing that even my cute, old grandma reads this sometimes in the company of my awesome aunts. But now... well, hm.. A bit of pressure.

Just so you all know, I'm horrible at engaging in the comments section, but do deeply appreciate any communication. My thoughts wander and I have my own view on Paris. A lot of it's terribly boring graduate school crap, but it might be interesting to a future grad student considering my program - or school in France. I'm not very funny. I'm very political, but I have family members reading the blog from many political parties in the USA so I try not to scream my views. (Although the Sarah Palin Comedy Train is hard not to jump on.) Yeah. So. That's it. Now, I'm going to forget entirely that there are more people reading, because, really I'm shy as all get out.

But, please, make yourself at home here. Enjoy. And, thanks for stopping by.

Oh, and if you're able to in your country --- VOTE!!!!

To be French

Thank god I'm not 19 anymore. Really. But I did have a nice evening hanging out with a new colleague at school (who is 30) and 3 French teenagers. Colleague and I went for a drink following a long day at school and then were invited to beers by the next table over.

I'm always astounded when I hear the America-Love from people. And I've heard it from my Chinese colleagues via a link regarding the fascination with America during the Olympics. And tonight I heard it again from three 19-year-old French boys. They cited more movies and TV shows than I've seen in the States. They spoke "American English" as opposed to British. It's strange to look inside from the outside.

Of course, I know it's easier to criticize the US while I carry her passport. And I can always return. But how strange, in the middle of a financial meltdown and in the middle of the fresh roll of a new wave of The Depression. But people still hold a high regard for the US, an esteemed worship, a lust, a hope for the country and to find themselves someday making their yellow brick road there.

It hasn't changed my view on the country. I'm still skeptical - despite the Hope instilled by Obama (and these boys know Obama and McCain and know that Change is associated with the former and toasted to it). I'm still exhausted with the work ethic. Still dismayed by the urban and rural planning of the country. Still disencouraged by the policies. Still hoping to get a job in Europe or the rest of the world so I won't have to return next year. But then I run into these people who want to clink every round of beers to the US and to the hope it instills.

It's true, too. In Europe, or at least in France, still, to this day, you have to declare your intended track of study before you graduate high school. You have to determine your fate beforehand and you have to stick to it. There's no such thing as a 33-year-old going back to school. It's unheard of and weird. Hence, the lack of student discounts for me - they end at 26 years old. No one can understand why someone would be able to or want to change their life path.

To these boys, the US represents Hollywood, New York City, chance, glory, opportunity, uniqueness, freedom. To me it represents the opposite for I have felt the crush of these things. But we always think the grass is greener over there, don't we?

And now that I'm in Paris again, I remember how much I love my boulangerie, my cave man with the wonderfully cheap wine, the idea of sitting out on a sidewalk drinking beer for hours in the evening, the risk of greve (strike) any moment, the challenge of being a country, a city, and a piece of the EU. Who is the US a member of? Iraq??? To whom do we have to submit our concerns?

It's food for thought on a late night before a class.....

What kind of a policy-maker are they making here? I'm not a Socialist or a Republican or a Liberal or a Fancy Pants. But good god, what has this education in France given me??

On the Vice Presidential Debate from over here

Missed it? Catch the full 1 hour 33 minutes of comedy here.

Well, it's Friday night and what better have I to do? Actually, a ton, but I'm sick as a dog so why not catch up on my American politics? I'm slightly disgusted with the US media saying Palin didn't too poorly. Obviously, the bar was lowered to the gutter so anything that didn't involve her storming out, saying "Vote for Bush and Palin" or "Biden's a baby killer" or breaking down into tears basically constitutes doing well. No, I won't even say, well she did alright. While I don't expect my representatives to be without human failures (Errare Humanum Est), I do expect them to have eloquent arguments (even if it's bull), well-thought out ideas, and a drive to change what Bush had messed up for the past 8 years. Being able to remain composed for an hour half does not qualify as doing well. As my old boss commented, she is "shocked and appalled that 'folksy' makes someone a viable vice-presidential candidate."

So, if it hasn't been said, most of what I noted had to do with analyzing Palin. Although, I was trying to be critical of Biden. I'm not as familiar with him, his policies, his beliefs, his background, etc I did wonder if he wasn't going to suffer a stroke at some point, the way those veins stuck out above his eyebrows. He almost looked like a Vulcan. I'm also tired of the old, white guy syndrome. And he doesn't need to remind me he's had a lifetime in politics - I'm tired of the old school. But he does wear his upbringing on his sleeve - or play it up for the people - and that I fell for.

So, here are my brief notes on the interaction:















stolen from Cajun Boy


What does "more and more revelation made aware now.." mean, Palin? And who says "Yah, I wooduv" or "bringin'" or "A-mare-ica" like a teenager chewing gum? Seems like she's running a Bush, Jr Jr here.

And what is with all the winking? Seriously, SNL was handed gold on a platter while they were fanned by Donatella Versace's slave men.

Really, who is so proud of being the governor of the only arctic state? Isn't that where there's a huge alcohol problem, man-eating bears, and a whole yard of ice? Get over it. It's really not so amazing. Especially considering the fact that the whole damn country is barely populated (683,478). I mean, HAWAII has more people living there than Alaska.

Did anyone feel like Palin was your mom giving you the smack down, shame-on-you speech after you'd overspent your allowance on a cheap Barbie dollhouse? Really, do I need a VP who wants to ground me or wag her finger at me?

"People are SO hungry for that domestic source of energy to be tapped into"? Are we? Are we soooo hungry for oil and not for a paid job? Are we so eager to tear open wildlife and suck its life out?

"I'd tell America straight up.." Is that what she'll say to foreign dignitaries? "Let me tell you straight up about our foreign policy." Ugh.

"We can not afford to lose.." in the war in Iraq. Is that what it's about, Palin? Losing is losing face? How about we can't afford to leave Iraq in the disastrous state we put it in? "Shift responsibility" - nice, Biden. She did kick Biden in the privates by throwing his words back at him in regards to criticizing Obama before Biden was chose as VP.

Was Palin stumbling on the word "nuclear?"

engagement w/ enemies: "..these dictators who hate America... and hate what we stand for.. our respect for women's rights" WHAT?! What in god's name does she consider "women's rights" - she's been a champion of limiting women's rights since day one! Disillusioned much?

Did anyone think her insert of "building an Embassy in Jerusalem" sounded a bit like a sales pitch: This duplex is just the house for your family, with the two-car garage, great view of the lake - and an Embassy in Jerusalem - you just can't go wrong!

"We both love Israel" - the next great campaign tee-shirt. It's almost like, "We both love ice cream!"

I'm sorry, but she's so condescending. It's so inappropriate. Biden should have taken her stupid, sick, sweet-cheeked Maverick ass out the door and kicked her off her high heels. But he remained diplomatic and exuded class by not stooping to her level.

Surged principles that have worked in Iraq?

I wish Biden would have pointed out that he's actually attained the experience on the issues of war, genocide, peace, and the economy and that Palin hasn't had that same education and can't do the job.

Ooooh, "McCain knows what Evil is." Like, Evil Knievel?

"Whaddya expect?" cheerleader shoulder shrug with a head tilt, "We're a team of Mavericks...." Gimme an M! Gimme an A! Good gracious.

Has anyone seen Wasilla Main Street? Who wants that in the capital? Union Street or Katie's restaurant? Who wants that in the capital? Why did Biden drop Home Depot into the conversation? Is he getting paid?

"Government get out of my way" I wish she'd thought of that when considering bills regarding women's rights. Hmmm... Now, who's the 2-faced politician?

"Say it ain't so, Joe... now doggoneit..." next campaign tee-shirt. Followed by "Your wife being a teacher for 30 years and god bless her - her reward is in heaven." I think she started to lose it here.

Nice try on her part to turn the "Bush Administration = McCain" into "looking to the past" instead of talking about the future. Ain't gonna work, woman. The last 8 years is the future and it's gotta change.

"ramped up" "shout out" - oh.my.god. Our next VP? Please nooooo. I love what "youngin'" said in the comments here: "- I don't think 'shout outs' are appropriate during national debates"

Palin wants flexibility in the role of VP...hmmm... like what? What does she want the power for? Um, that's scary. Nice knock on Cheney, Biden. Thanks!

I love my mother, really, I do. And, I love most of the moms I know. But I'm sorry, the only ONLY mother I wanted to run for President or VP was Hillary Clinton. Being a mother does not qualify you for the leadership of this country. Political education, experience, diplomacy, foreign expertise.. and if you're a parent, great. But don't run on your parenthood - it's really not so hard to get or have kids. And, we've seen that prime example through her daughter!

Biden spoke about political issues (albeit with a lot of spin and some lying), but during his one lengthily moment on family, he got all choked up over his kids. Wow. Nice play.

Maverick. Really, it used to be an interesting, descriptive word. It's now like an off-key chord on a bagpipe. Ugh. Ew. And, stop. Please.

Just like the next person, I'm not interested in having an elitist President, but if a person can't find another, more eloquent way for describing "quasi-caved in" then they shouldn't be leading my country. Enough of the "I'm the decider" for me, thanks.

"[Since then,] Never questioned their motive, questioned their judgment." - Biden. Nice.

"You walk the walk, you don't just talk the talk. At the end of the day, as long as we're all workin' together for the greater good, it's gonna be okay." - Palin. Not nice.

And another good critique from "yougin'": "-I learned in grade school to enunciate my words ending in -ING . If the word ends in ING then you best pronounce the G!!! They must not teach that in Alaska."

Why is Palin's closing a threat of fear? Freedom is at stake - freak out! Vote McCain

Be able to pay the mortgage, send kid to college, best equipped soldiers, best health care. Dignity and respect. Accomplish anything - we believed it and we did. Reestablish that certitude. "Champ, when you get knocked down, get up" And the last god bless the troops - selfishly - ooooo, sizzler! Vote Obama/Biden

Last, and again stolen from Cajun Boy's website:

Grad school complexities

It's a lovely season. Cooling off, leaves are changing, all the Parisians have returned (although I wasn't here when they left so I don't notice the difference), new students are infiltrating the balance, and new viruses are spread all over the metro and buses. I have a cold, which could be a sinus infection. I hate being sick, although it does give pause to living, which is a nicely forced slow down.

School started last week with orientation on Thursday and Friday, although I'd already been there a few times before to present the conference to the new first-year students - who look way better than our class does, very encouraging. This week we slowly started some courses and debated the procedure and results of electing our concentrations and capstones. Concentrations include things like risk management, economic and territorial development, human security, multilevel economic governance, welfare. They include an overview course each semester (which can be taken as an elective) and a hands-on methods course (not allowed to be taken as elective).

Frankly, I wanted to take them all but that's impossible. I got swept up by professor presentations and changed my mind at least ten times. Finally, I settled on the top three choices that would be submitted to admin: multilevel, risk, human security. There was a draw and almost everyone but three of us got their first or second selections. There's way more to it, but I didn't truly - in the end - want human security as a concentration. I have a background in welfare and a type of human security (which basically just places the person as the central focus as opposed to the state or war). To make myself well-rounded I need an economic or management concentration. So there was a bit of a heated discussion with the director, and man, was I proud of myself for holding my ground but not pushing too hard. It's a delicate balance to insist without demanding, confront without breaking down, justify without whining.

I wanted to pull the money card - after all, I am paying a &%$# ton of money to go to school here - but that seemed like last resort, and an unspoken obviousness. I did play the "I'm doing a lot for this program" card, which felt a bit cheap, and the "It's not like I'm going to tell other people and incite a riot for everyone to change their concentrations," which also felt slimy. The procedure was transparent, agreed upon, and rather equal among all parties. In the end, the resolution was to allow the 3 of us who got our third choice to switch, but no one else. In the end, not enough people chose the welfare concentration so it was cancelled - second year in a row. Last year they converted it into a lecture series, which I attended diligently. The human security was saved and the 3 of us are content with our decisions. I got my second choice: Risk Management.

Next up, the capstones, which are basically the replacement for doing a thesis. It's more professionally-focused, where we work in a group with a leader who brings a case study for us to resolve. Again, all of them are interesting on some level, and they all involve a degree of travel, which is a big draw. I didn't want to do the Eastern Europe-Mekong trade comparison because it would involve too much travel for me to handle with the other school work. It was, of course, the most popular. Instead I went with a diversity-focused capstone that would involve analyzing a multi-national corporation's adherence to a new diversity law in Europe and offering direction on how to improve it - if needed. The firm is based in Europe, Asia, and Latin America so there is potential travel there, and interesting comparisons between developing and developed countries. My second choice was a Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) project working with fair labor practices and firms who signed an agreement with the ILO to improve their practices. My third choice is led by the professors of my concentration and deals with analysis of nuclear energy facilities and regulation through these risks.

Well, we'll hear today hopefully what we get for Capstones. It's a gamble and a game and slightly a prisoner's dilemma. Do you put your real first choice or the first choice everyone is aiming for to ensure you get your second choice, which is your real first choice? Yesterday, we had an open discussion with the admin, because only 6 of the 9 capstones were chosen by students - with way too many in some areas (Mekong and CSR), which would mean putting the school's reputation into jeopardy by telling a capstone leader that no one selected their project. In the end, one project was saved by a group of smart kids who switched to the capstone openly. This enables them to have their choice of project AND know with whom they'll be working. That's the other unknown about the whole group project blind pick thing. Who knows who you'll be working with because, even if you plot with your good friends to choose XYZ, who knows if you both get it? And, as second-year students who stayed at the school (instead of doing a dual-degree program and moving over to Columbia NYC or London Sch of Econ or Hertie in Berlin or Lee Kuan Yee in Singapore), we're aware of the group dynamic complexity since other schools don't focus on this as much. The difference between last year and this year's groups is that this year you're stuck with the group for a whole 9 months, whereas last year maybe you'd be stuck with people for a week or a semester.

So, the boys were smart yesterday by letting go of particular desires (a capstone can translate into job opportunities) and going for others (clear group dynamics). I know who the people were who selected my capstone and knew I could work with them, but really, I'm much more flexible in this area. The most problematic person last year was a guy who didn't return this year. I worked with him twice, once in a big group and once in a smaller group. In the former, I was unable to really move him to think of things in a different way or communicate displeasure since there were so many other people who were already regretting his presence and trying to direct him one way or another. In the latter situation, I could kind of direct the dispersion of group tasks in a way that would influence his contribution - by re and re-emphasizing exactly what everyone's tasks were and deadlines. He did a great job in the end and we were all pleased. So, I'm not terrified by the unknown of the group dynamic as much as other people who have genuinely made enemies by either being themselves (some are slightly abrasive) or just not connecting well with other personalities.

Anyway, in the meantime, I'm also regretting being the conference organizer for this student conference in November. ... whew. From keynote speakers to panelists to alumni receptions to accommodations to supplies to registration applications to budget. I have a co-organizer who is attending LSE this year and, well, likes to delegate his activities more than I can accept and often tries to delegate back to me, which I think is hilarious. The first-year students are fantastic and really stepping up to help - thank god. We're a month away and there's a TON to do still. One day at a time. One deep breath after another.


Here's some Paris in the autumn - I have gotten out a bit these days.