Thursday, November 19, 2009

i get to play with legos!

when i was a child, there were two toys that i absolutely loved to play with:  tonka trucks (which i will still run to if i see them, especially the cement mixers) and legos; yesterday, i was able to program a mini-robot car made of legos!  i know, i know, i'm an (ahem!) adult, but i just love certain toys (kid's toys, people, get your minds out of the gutter), and i don't want to grow up.

so, there we were, the class of fourteen people, sitting in the rows at the computers, all very excited about being able to play with, i mean work with the lego robots, when the professor told us to break up into four groups.  the person who sat next to me and i work well together, so we were excited to have someone else join us.  others were calling out for certain students to join them, so there were three groups of four and my group of two.  the professor asked someone to leave one of the larger groups and join my group, and the general response was "no."  he finally went around and asked  a number of people by name, and ALL said, "no."  as amusing as i found it to be yesterday, i cried about it today.  i am looking forward to not being with these students next semester; never have i met a ruder bunch of people, and i have five (5) classes per week with them.  by the way, i'm back to finding it amusing, and the other girl and i finished our projects first.

[as a denouement, i spoke with the professor of the class about this, and he said i was merely exaggerating.  had this been the first incident with these classmates, it would not have bothered me as much, but i was not the first time i've been harassed by members of this class and it was extremely hurtful.  as i have five (5) classes per week with them, seeing them in the next class was extremely difficult, and i look forward to the end of the semester.]

Friday, November 13, 2009

the apartment

I really wish my building had a bathroom somewhere between the first and third floors, or rather, on any one of the first three floors.  I don't know what it is, but by the time I mount those five flights of stairs (there is an elevator, but I don't have the key) and open my door, I am doing the "pee pee dance" and can barely make it to the bathroom on my own floor in time.  Because the bathroom uses a real skeleton key, I think it best not to carry it (the key) around with me (although I wonder if I would be able to use it in any other lock in the city - hmm, must research).  I've been considering getting to know at least one neighbor on each floor in case of an emergency of the bathroom kind.

Of course, considering my response to one of my older neighbors, I'm sure they've all been warned that there is a crazy American lady in the building and would probably bar the door if they saw me coming.  I was overwhelmed one day in September because I had spent the day in classes and had to go to dinner with classmates and professors across town.  I was feeling the pressure:  I had to get up those stairs, change my clothes, do something with my hair, refresh my makeup, and get back to campus in 25 minutes, so when my nice elderly neighbor asked, Comment allez vous? (how are you), I didn't hear him correctly and thought he asked Où allez vous (where are you going) so I told him, wondering why he was asking me such a question.  I couldn't understand why he looked bemused and kept backing away from me until two days later when the realization hit me; I now hang my head in shame when when walking through the building, avoiding everyone's stares.  I think I have the same reputation "Lucy Ricardo" had when she visited Europe; let's home I don't get into a fight when stomping grapes. 

No description of my apartment would be complete without talking about the shower. You know, it's bad enough that I don't have a bath.  As some of you may know, one of my favorite luxuries is to read in a bubble bath; I have spent hours in the tub, emerging only to look like a prune (sorry for putting that picture into your head).  Alas, I have no tub, and my shower stall is so small that if I were to gain twenty pounds I would not be able to fit through its doors.  About those doors.  They are held together by magnets, and every morning is a battle to keep them closed (I didn't realize magnets, like some people, lost their attraction.); sometimes, I spend 5 minutes trying to find the attraction between those magnets because I do not want to risk getting my avocado green desk wet, nor the similarly-colored wardrobe.  Also, the thingie that holds the shower head in place is broken, so I have to hold the shower head to wet myself down, turn of the water, soap myself up, and turn on the water to rinse.  I'm from the drought years of California, so I'm fine with that; it saves water and is efficient.  But, there is another aspect thing to add to this.  Some weeks the drain works, and some weeks it is rather slow, and on the latter weeks, there is another step to the shower-taking process.  After the initial rinse, I get out of the shower, run the water in the tiny sink next to the shower, plunge it (to create the necessary vacuum to help the shower water drain), and hope back into the shower in order to soap and rinse.  Those weeks seem to coincide with lower temperatures, so I stand there cold, wet, and naked plunging the sink to get the shower to drain.  I find the ridiculousness of the scenario rather amusing.  And then there is the gurgling.  The first time it happened was in the middle of the night.  I initially thought Nessie had swum down from Scotland, crossed the Channel, and somehow ended up in the pipes below my shower, but was disappointed to discover the sound was caused by water backing up into my shower every time a neighbor used their faucets.

This apartment is, to say the least, colorful, and as much as I love my little apartment and feel it is perfect for the first semester, it is for my first semester only!

So, having begun my day with the battle of the shower, a couple of days ago I looked outside of my window into the courtyard and there were a few clouds in the sky, but it looked as if it was going to be a nice, warm day. By the time I walked down those five flights of stairs, it was raining.  Hard.  I was running a bit behind, so I had neither the time nor the desire to climb those stairs and grab an umbrella; I began my school day looking like a wet rat.  Thank god for waterproof mascara, and my brand really works.  As it is, my flat iron isn't working here, so my hair already has a tendency to frizz, even with product.  Imagine what it looked like with the product rained out of it.  Well, at least I didn't have to handle the nozzle for that shower.

Here's a little bit of good news, one of my professors is kindly allowing me a few extra days to complete an assignment because I am in the play, AND he's insisting on attending the play despite only returning to Paris from a conference at which he has to give a presentation the day before (I am including this information because he is now a recipient of these missives).  Frankly, I think he wants to see me looking simply bovine in that muumuu.  Actually, I greatly appreciate this because having to memorize those lines, write three papers, and the myriad of other things was starting to freak me out, and we happened to be discussing mnemonic tricks in class that day when I asked him (after class, of course, because I don't want my classmates to hear that I'll be in the play for fear of heckling) if he knew of any tricks to memorize lines in ways besides thinking of chocolate covered lighthouses (don't ask, but I bet you'll never forget that, will you?).

Bisous (kisses) to all.

omg, what have i done?

(sent 10 november 2009)


really, what have i done? it's not as if i have enough time to do what i have to do, and i am now performing the role of the crazy neighbor/psychic in the school play deathtrap. did i audition? no; i thought about doing it but decided against doing it in september. opening night is 27 november, i received the script today. need i say more? (i should be playing the role of the girl in oklahoma! who can't say no.) what is wrong with me? in case none of you know this, i have terrible stage fright (which is why i preferred doing film); well, i'll just have to suck it up, and as many of my classmates hate me anyway, what do i have to lose? (no, i'm not exaggerating.) at least i'll get to wear a mumu (moomoo; either way, i'll look simply bovine).


so, i'm playing "helga" the hungarian neighbor (exactly how much makeup will i have to wear?) who doesn't have many lines, but who is, well, eccentric. i can do eccentric. and she's over-the-top; i don't know if i can do that, being so shy and retiring and all. i'm hoping to be able to remember my lines and not (literally) fall flat on my face. if i can manage those two things, i'll be fine. now, if i upstage the rest of the cast, it's not my fault.


updates: my neighbor is not a zombie in the traditional sense of the word, but his lack of sensitivity (i.e., stomping down the hall at 3 a.m., and then talking loudly with his girlfriend, slamming his door, and other various loud acts) makes me wonder if he is a philosophical zombie - without consciousness. so, he is alive. phew, glad that's been cleared up, and i'm glad my brain is not in danger (especially since i'll need it for the memorization).


midterms have come and gone, thank god, and finals are just around the corner. i am looking forward to being able to sleep in during the reading days.


by the way, i went to the rehearsal and blew everyone away. as a matter of fact, when working on the final scene with Nick, a fellow knitter and thespian, the professor who was teaching the room next door came in to ask us to lower the volume a bit. as i threaten him with a knife in the scene, i can only imagine what they must have thought.


as soon as we take pics, i'll include them.