Into the Wild

So, some movies debut here (like Woody Allen's film) and then others take 4 months to release in France. It doesn't really matter all that much since I don't have too much time to entertain myself that way. Although, it seems to be a favorite pastime of some of the 2nd year boys.

Last night I finished both the Statistics paper and the prostitution paper and today I turned in the hard copies. So, before I start off on the global law and last Stats papers I thought I'd take a short break. In fact, I ditched out early of the class on log linear somethings (because frankly the stats class needs some serious tweaking and I will never be running log linear regressions). I was really interested in seeing "No Country for Old Men" but it's not out for a week or so. I had heard from my colleague, Eduardo, that "Into the Wild" was a good movie. He's quite an enigma: a chill guy who comes from Chile and spent university years at U California Long Beach (so throw a surfer accent on him). He's kind of a class clown type, wants to run for office back in Chile, is deeply concerned with poverty alleviation, and is bascially an excellent mind wearing checkered Vans.

"You gotta see 'Into the Wild,' man."
"The one by Sean Penn, right?"
"Yeah, but the best thing is that the whole soundtrack is by Eddie Vedder."
"Oh? Cool. What - it's like, about a guy in Alaska, right? God I loved Alaska."
"Yeah, but it's heavy, man." (we were at a party and he had to go back to pseudo deejaying)

Eduardo saying "it's heavy man" is like a clown saying "it's raining." Oh boo hoo, but not really 'cuz it's Happy the Clown!

Coming out of the film though, I think it's more like ... listen when Happy says it's heavy, cuz he means it.

..... Maybe because I've been through a lot of personalities and adopted a bit of all the lifestyles I've led, I'm not afraid to say that I have PMS and it totally affects me. I feel no need to defend that, but I'll tell you that it's real, not made up, and sometimes I just want to kill people and other times I want to weep for hours. And there's nothing I can do about my composure or my tongue. And, frankly, women who are PMSd or menstruating make great soldiers/military personnel: they're pissed, uncomfortable, and irritable - yet still extremely precise in the aim of those emotions. .....

So, "Into the Wild" on PMS. Well, if I weren't trying so hard to have an enjoyable time during my free time, I would have balled buckets. It affected me on many levels. I won't spoiler alert anything so you still need to go see it, but firstly, Penn did a great job directing and filming. My god, the scenery. It made me miss the US. It made me miss Alaska and strange places in the strange country. It totally called out to the side of me that's filled with wanderlust and disregard for establishment and societal rules. It made me want to burn my money and start walking south with just the clothes on my back. I missed the countryside again. I was reminded how much I miss nature and how close I'd gotten to her over the years. It made me hate whiny Americans who think they have it bad (although at the same time I was reminded of myself - I'm stretching here - and how everything is relative..... don't say it, dad).

It was really filmed interestingly though. Different angles and splices, some camera interaction with the actors, naturalness. William Hurt has always played a great snobby dictator father and it is his 'personal moment' in the film that brought me the closest to sobbing. Marcia Gay Harden is still an amazing actor, as well, and should be in more films. I knew so many women in her portrayl. There were so many unknown actors, too. So many real people. I think Penn is really good at that - identifying the naturalness in people and enhancing that in key moments. Emile Hirsch was really, truly well-suited for this film. Although, I did find myself - through about 6/8th of the film - wondering how hard it was to play a kid who abandons the 'real world' for 'real life adventures' as a dirty tramp hippie. We don't see any of the truly negative aspects of living off the asphalt, but perhaps this kid was fortunate. We're shown only one (rather jarring) scene related to train hopping. From my experience with travellers, there are so many other things that are more frightening than this scene. But I still felt sucked in and empathetic. My god, that kid (and the actor) had balls and was super tough - trekking through thigh-high, icy rivers in Alaska with no hip waders. And Penn's close-up shots made me freak out every time the kid went out into the forest - is he going to be eaten by a bear? attacked by a mountain lion? killed by a pack of wolves? trip and break his ankle? And the front, back, in between shots that take us from the beginning to the end and afterwards and in the middle, well I never got confused and it added to the story instead of going chronologically.

(Can you tell I've been writing papers lately?)

But, in the end, it drained me. . . when I was supposed to be rejuvenated by a beautiful story about road trips and finding oneself. I immediately came home - without even stopping in the theatre to find the bathroom - and wanted to have a stiff drink. But I didn't. So I got to being busy again.

It's been full on gale-storming in Paris lately. Last night I was woken up thinking for sure the roof was going to collapse in on me or I was going to be blown away. I remember thinking as I fell asleep, "I'd love a gentle rain while I slept." Instead my wish was heard as a piercing begging scream and I got downpours at like 3am. Lord. So tonight, I will sleep super duper well, I feel.

PS. A billion new photos uploaded, including themes like:
-Sciences Po MPA department
-Back when it was fall
-additions to the Rue Douai folder
-First arrondissement (louvre)
-Professor as Pollack
-holiday shopping, featuring Hotel de Ville igloo, bus ride, Galleries Lafayette (in all its glory inside)
-Montmartre Cemetery
-a small amount of photos from NYE

Shorts

started 1/12/08

I found out that a 2nd year student did a similar paper on prostitution last year, comparing policies in France and Netherlands using the framework of the actors involved, mainly feminists. My ego was deflated to know this. I won't read her paper very closely until I'm done with mine. Too much pressure.

Speaking of, I heard from 2 different 2nd year students that I seem too stressed out. They tell me to focus on my introduction and conclusion and kind of support it in the main body. They act as if paper writing is second-nature when I haven't written anything formal in about 12 years. At the time they said this my eyes started to slightly well with tears (chalked up to PMS and conviction), and I defended the idea of writing a paper for the sake of making a difference instead of getting a decent grade or getting something out of the way. Regardless, I want to take their noticing my stress as a lesson. I should relax a bit my Scandinavian worth ethic. Life will go on and I won't actually be able to write some brilliant Einstein paper introducing a terribly new idea. At least not in the first four months of school.

The 2nd year student who wrote on prostitution described it well - it's a seductive theme. I have started to eat and breathe the concept. What is right, what is wrong, what works, what doesn't. In Madrid, Rod and I were walking up a street near Metro Sol, the street known for sex workers. It was our second or third time walking up this street because it's a thoroughfare. A man started to yell at a woman in a doorway (she was clearly a sex worker). His language was mixed Spanish and another. This is not representative of the industry, mind you. I stopped in my tracks and turned to stare at him. If he would become physically abusive I would not stand for it. Only, I should have done more. I should have challenged his verbal abuse. I speak almost perfect Spanish. I should have called him on it. As we all do in hindsight, I should have pulled the ultimate card out, "What?! Your mother taught you to treat ladies this way??!" Instead. He stopped yelling and walked away. So did we.

Back in Paris: I came out of the Chinese restaurant with my take-out. The same panhandler was there that I'd encountered before. Last time, when he stuck his hand out - the first time I've seen this guy/kid - he asked, mumbling in French, for money for food. I shook my head and kind of said 'désolé' sorry. Under his breath, as I walked on, he called me a "fucking bitch." I was shocked. In English he said this. I didn't know what to do so I walked on. This time, coming out of the restaurant, he was there, mumbling something about money for food and I shook my head and split second realized it was him and hollared back over my shoulder, "And don't call me a fucking bitch!" He mumbled back after me, "Ok, sorry."

I wore girl shoes to school today. I really don't like girly things like make-up (too much time in the morning for it when I could be sleeping), high heels (my high arches ache), etc. But I had a presentation and wanted to add a bit of professional flair which for men includes shaving and a nice shirt and tie. For women it's (shaving) a nice shirt and heels - either kitten or high. Every girl shoe I've ever worn has caused me blisters and pain. My Converse never have. My gym shoes never have. My Steve Madden boots haven't. So I wore girl shoes from 9am-midnight. They drain you if they hurt. They make every step feel sharp and slow you down from striding across the street. They made me come up from the metro, after 2 lines and a lot of standing and getting distractedly lost on the way, and upon seeing the hookers standing on the stairs at the top, I sighed, "Home. Finally." This is the first time I recognized my metro and my neighborhood as home. It felt good to see their un-stockinged legs and see the neon of Monoprix. I even, slowly tip-toeing almost down the street, nodded to the 'arabe' grocer. I guess I'm settling in here.

I made a HUGE bowl of pasta shells mixed with tuna, peas, mascarpone, eggs, celery, and spices. It was inspired by a meal I had at Rod's on Christmas Eve. I think I cooked for a good 1-1/2 hours. It was a good break and now I have like a week of food. Now, I have to think of creative ways to eat it. Sandwiches. I wonder what it'd be like warm. I haven't eaten so many eggs-by-themselves in years, but the French make only a handful of sandwiches in their boulangeries: meat and crudité (which means raw vegetable to mean lettuce, tomato), crudité and cheese (Camembert or Gruyère), or crudité with egg and thon (tuna). Not that I miss hot dogs or hamburgers (heh, says the vegetarian). I am definitely getting my vitamins and minerals. Also, hence, why I've been making PB&Js on lovely French bread to take to school - mix it up a bit (lovely jam here, too - recently had some rhubarb yummy chunks of fruit in there!).

Both the stats paper and state restructuring papers are due tomorrow. Stats so far is a 7-page regression analysis on how education, feelings about the status of a home country's economy, and your partner's education influence your feelings about immigration. It sounds sexy. It's not. A bunch of writing words about numbers. I've got about 35% left on the paper on prostitution policy. (Well, that percentage has dropped over the past 14 hours despite the fact that I haven't done much on it.) With all the words in the paper - some will be chopped for sure in the editing process - I've got almost twice the recommended amount. Whew. Plenty to say. Good. Now, let's make it worthy of being said!

I think it's sad that our extended family is dividing up my grandmother's art work. Sure, on the one hand it's really wonderful that we're able to do this and that my aunts and uncle and dad are helping the process and that my grandma is facilitating (or so I imagine, with no basis for that). It's still sad, and too bad that the farm house can't just be converted into a really cool museum that will always smell special like warm Norwegian wood and Welsh air. I can see that house from entry way to basement nook, from measuring our giggling cousins up against the bathroom door to seeing knee-high while scooting around on a wooden toy tractor. I wonder how it looks now, covered in layers of snow and small lights glowing from its windows. I wonder how we'll all keep the tradition of seeing our faces change.

Back in the saddle of Sciences Po

For family and friends: I realized that not all the events in my life were making it to the Mac calendar. This has been rectified. Notice, if you click on certain events in the calendar you get the notes on that event, ie the trip to the Indian Embassy for my visa for the February trip (see Jan 10th). This might be interesting for lectures. Also, I prefer the view in monthly as opposed to daily. Either way - fun &... super packed!!

It's super busy right now. I imagine that all the museum-seeing, lazy walking, new-restaurant-trying, and general getting-to-know-Paris will have to wait a bit longer now. I'm all about papers this month. That, and fabulous visits from friends, too. My previous professor from undergrad '99 in Minneapolis is coming to visit with his wife (he also wrote letters of recommendation for me to get into grad school). They sound like pretty chill travelers who like mapping out their visits by where they want to eat, walking around the city-as-museum, and going out a bit at night. Good thing because I really don't need high maintenance right now.

Anyway.

Here's the first day back to the 'Po.

"Jet Lag"

new levels of procrastination

Why does this give me so much joy???







c/o I Can Has Cheez Burger?


I don't even like cats.

the mad dash

A lot of people don't understand when I tell them I spent New Years working on a paper, trolling the 'net, drinking champagne, and then climbed up to my roof to watch fireworks. It was nice and mellow. I think some misunderstood reputation of partying precedes me. Heh. Well, it's not the entirely unfounded. I have been known to go to some wild New Years parties and stay up until dawn. But I've also been known to - and fondly remember - go up into the woods of backland Wisconsin and stay in a cabin, putting logs on the fire, drinking champagne and howling to Jeff Buckley - while remaining terrified all the while that some wolves would eat me.

I had invitations. My good pals Sarah and Wilfried invited me to dinner and drinks at their place. My cool landlord Fabien invited me to his place where he and his girlfriend were hosting a few people. A colleague called to invite me out with others who were in town. Friends of Rod's invited me previously to join them up north. So many wonderful people concerned that I wouldn't have a good place to be. But I did find one. Hanging out with me!

I made a little video up on the roof but I need to go back and look at it. I was a bit toasted at the time and not sure of the quality now. Although I was thrilled to be filming over the rooftops just when the clock struck and the Eiffel went from drab, uniform lights to sparkling, dashing, debonair lighting. And then the big booming fireworks started all across the horizon.

So, between my early return to school - it's just less distracting there for all the papers I'm to write - and cooking dinner and just living, I'm trying to get old photos up on flickr and the digifilms up on youtube. Please check them when you're bored as they're changing quite a bit.

Oh, yeah, and speaking of the youtube, how cool is this?

A film with Radiohead in it made for New Year's Eve, 2007. Features every song on their new album IN RAINBOWS




Happy 2008 to you all!