faith

A lot has happened since Tito Chad passed away, most of it not good, but I still hold that same faith I felt when my uncle passed on.

My Mom’s saying of the past week or so has been “everything happens for a reason.” Well, after these several days, I believe it.

Before Tito Chad became ill and was taken to the hospital late Friday night, three of his five siblings had been out of town. My mom and the rest of us were in the Philippines and Kauai, Tita Carisse and my uncle were in Texas for business, and Tita Rita and her family were in NC.

All of us arrived back on Friday. The family keep saying that Tito Chad was waiting for all of us to be together.

Also, Tito Jondi commented on how the family has been trying to get Tito Chad here for two years, and after finally accomplishing that goal, they attempted to get a caretaker for him, but to no avail. Tito Jondi said that it was interesting how they’d been worrying over who’d take care of him, his insurance, and all of that, but never his passing. It’s as if the need for a caretaker was never fulfilled for a reason now.

My mom also told me that it seemed to work out for the best–the situations surrounding my uncle’s passing anyway. My grandpa passed away a couple of years ago, and Mom said that my grandma and the rest of the family couldn’t have handled both my grandpa’s sickness/passing and getting my uncle over and his passing at the same time. We got my uncle here maybe less than a year after my grandpa passed away.

That just made me think of that quote that says: people are never given more than they can handle. I’m just thinking that sometimes, maybe you just can’t see it until later.

 

cont. faith

(Note: I’m separating the next post “faith” from this one because I don’t like this sad post being the first one on my blog’s page. This will just be a continuation.)

Lastly (at least as far as I can tell), and I’m wondering about this one, this happened for my Mom.

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This past Saturday morning was my uncle’s funeral. My brother and I woke to my mom’s raised voice (which is an event within itself), and a bit after her Incredible Hulk action (her words), my dad left the house. He was kicked out, really. My mom wants a separation, because she told me that under VA state law, a couple can’t get divorced unless they’ve been separated for one year. Anyway, my dad packed and left and we went to the funeral.

It was a very nice mass–my mom and her siblings and the kids sang; they sing in the church choir (they’re a family of singers), and it was beautiful. I read from the Book of Wisdom, a passage that my grandma chose that was wonderful, stumbled over a line but overall it was all right.

It was awkward though when Tito Jondi (who spoke the wonderful eulogy; sad but uplifting at once) mentioned Dad among the rest of the family in thanks–for his understanding and for letting Mom spend so much time on weekends with my uncle. And afterwards everyone was asking where Dad was (they all like him so much and hanging out with him). That was awkward because what were we supposed to say? I stuck with saying, “I’m not sure.”

The short proceeding at the cemetery was nice too–it was a gorgeous sunny day (though it rained in the morning while we were at the mass), and after the priest was done with his part, the Ataneans (a high school and college that a lot of my mom’s family went to; all her siblings and herself, and a lot of the family friends) sang the Ataneo fight song. That was just a great way to end the goodbye–with a cheer. They all sang and it was just uplifting, especially on such a pretty day.

It has been almost four days since my dad left the house.

I visited him on Sunday at my grandma’s where he was staying, and he was so overwrought with guilt and sadness and a horrible desperation that was just too hard to handle, really. He is a very focused person; his mind wanders a lot and he has a short attention span, but when he thinks of things, he thinks and think and thinks. He cried at certain points when we were talking and it was just so hard to see. I’ve only ever seen him cry twice, at least that I can remember: when his dad passed away and when I went off to college. I text him a lot too just to check up on him, and what he says in conversation and what he said in his texts were much the same: that he can’t think about anything else, he couldn’t stand staying at my Lola’s, missed home so much, is so sad he hurt everyone, he can’t sleep, he can’t eat–he’s losing weight and gets dizzy sometimes.

Mom hates the night time and we talked for a while last night–she has trouble sleeping too, she’s very hurt, she misses him and just loves him so much, and seeing her cry or try to hold it back with a choked voice is just so hard. She says she’s afraid of being alone, and that just makes me so sad. And she’s the kindest and most empathetic person I know. She worries about my dad even though he’s the one that hurt her, but it just makes her sadder. And she’s also so fair. She lets him come hang out in the house when she’s at work or when she’s sleeping–I hang out with him, and she supports that 100%. She said it best: we’re here living as we always do, but he’s wandering around stuck in limbo. He’s not staying at the house, but at my grandmas, and he hates staying at other people’s places–he has a stigma about his own home and his own things. So it’s especially hard for him, even though he is at fault.

Part of me thinks they should separate, but seeing them both like this just makes me want them both to get back together because it seems like it’ll make things better. Maybe they’ll change and be better after this; maybe this has taught them something. I don’t know what’s best–my brain thinks it knows, but I don’t think you can only trust one thing.

I cried a lot these past few days, but really I think I’m ok. I just feel so bad for Dad, for my brother who has cut himself off from my dad (he’s just so filled with anger and hate that it hurts to see and hear him speak about it; though they’ve always had a rather rough/not good relationship), and for Mom of course.

It’s hard because things have changed and will be different and may always be changed and never the same. It was so hard these past few days because I was the only one speaking to my Dad. He’s at fault, but I love him and won’t ever not be there. But it was just so hard because I was the only one speaking to him; he told/tells me things, and I just feel like there’s no one else I can tell them to–Mom is hurt, Frank is angry, and who else is there to talk to about these things? I’m not saying others should care, just that I feel sort of at a dead end about this stuff.

My mom did speak with him on the phone today, which has lightened the load though. And Dad didn’t call me until around 4pm (he went to work, but I expected him to call earlier because he said he wanted to come by the house while Mom was still at work and just hang out), and the first thing he said was, “I’m happy; your Mom talked to me today.” And that was nice.

It sucks though because I’m leaving for school next weekend, and I want to be here for both of them.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Tomorrow my parents are going to church together. Dad has so much hope that Mom will let him come home tomorrow; he’s hoping to take her to the Kenny Rankin lounge concert on Thursday night, but I don’t know about Mom. Her view the entire time has been that she’s keeping to a decision, and she seems to think this is the best way to go, for both of them. I wanted to tell Dad to not keep his hopes up, but he said that he felt better and might be able to sleep tonight.

I have hopes about things, but I don’t know what’s best.

I never really thought about the emotional part of a divorce (from what I’ve seen on TV or from my friends’ parents’ divorces/separations). I never thought about how much everyone in the family is hurt by it. I just thought, that sucks for the kids because they’ll have to split time, the parents will have to split everything…but I didn’t think about how it really is just a complete separation of something that was once whole.

I think it’ll end up ok though, no matter what happens. It has to get better just because there is just really nowhere else for everything to go but up, which is cheesy maybe, but there’s no other way around that I think. It’s hard to see the good stuff though, when it’s been so hard, but it’s the only thing I can keep my eye on right now because the rest of it isn’t so nice to look at.

…

Anyway, the reason I say this is a joint matter in the whole faith subject above is because my grandma now no longer has Tito Chad to sit with all day, and Mom now has some free time to hang out with her–Mom likes to. They can keep each other company.

I don’t know. This is all very confusing.

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Venting is good.

 

jetlag: hospitals, thieves, and near-arrests

It is almost 5am and Mom, Dad and I just ate a midnight breakfast with decaf coffee.

Jetlag and impromptu hospital visits

I woke up at about 3am, unable to go back to sleep, and then I heard the honk of our Honda Pilot locking up and my parents come in. My Tito Chad, who has been bedridden since he was a teenager from Wilson’s Disease, was taken to the hospital for fear of his having a UTI, but it turns out that he had pneumonia and both his lungs were filled with fluid but for a tiny portion of one lung. So my parents went to the hospital, and I heard them come back.

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Theives, ghosts, and memory-loss

I didn’t know this at the time and tried to go back to sleep, but then I heard a series of alarms going off periodically and decided to give up trying to sleep. I came downstairs, they told me about Tito Chad, and then showed me the footprints on the sill of the stairs that lead from the basement to outside that we can see from the kitchen.

While we’d been gone, my cousin Camille had been getting our mail and taking care of Comet, my golden retriever brother who unfortunately couldn’t accompany us on our family vacation. One day she called us while we were in Kauai and reported that somehow, the lights, different ones from the ones she left on, had been turned on. She usually leaves a couple of lights on for the appearance of the house being inhabited, but when she came back to the house the next day, it was a different set of lights that were on. The laundry door was open too.

Mom joked that it was a ghost, and that Dad shot her a look because he didn’t want Camille to get scared. She’s about 4′11 and 18 years old. Shorter than me!

Here’s an interjecting anecdote that I found hilarious that is her worst short-story (forgive the pun!):

She and her friends went to a restaurant and the waitress gave everyone regular menus, but served her a kids’ menu! She said they probably thought that she was the younger sister of one of her friends! Oh man. And she says that while she’s in line, people cut her sometimes because they apparently think she’s with someone else, as a child or younger sibling! Jeez. Poor kid!

Anyway, my parents were setting up alarms on the doors, just cheap ones that if the door is opened when it’s on, then they’ll go off. We though briefly that someone had stolen Dad’s work laptop, but left all our cars and tvs and the precious Wii, but Dad just found the laptop. So now it’s either just a ghost or Camille forgot which lights she left on and which doors she left open.

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Near-arrests

So we ate a midnight breakfast. Hunger was the main reason I pushed myself out of bed in the first place. However, we had no eggs so Dad, as energetic and ADD as ever, decided he’d go to the 7-11 in Sully Plaza to fetch some.

Eggs in hand, he walked out of the store and was stopped by two humongous, white policemen.

They said that there had been some activity in the area and the suspect was an Asian male. They asked for his ID, and he was so worried that he double-backed and told us later that he thought that that may have made him look guilty or something, which made him even more worried. He was also worried because he’d heard of people being mistakenly arrested, and he also worried that he had ::ahem:: a certain substance in the car.

Anyway, they ran his ID through a database, saw his age and said, “Oh, you’re 48? The guy we’re looking for is a lot younger.” At this, Mother and I both laughed because he’d been getting a lot of words about how young he looks, and this was the first time that it was in a rather negative situation! They asked where he worked, to which he replied, “I’ve worked in the World Bank for about 23 years.” The cops raised their brows at that, apparently, and said, “Oh, so you really are pretty old!”

Then they returned his ID and let him go saying, “Thanks for your time!” And off he went.

Poor thing came back a bit frightened and edgy.

Anyway, going to try to get a bit of shut-eye and then wake up tomorrow. Mom and I are going to make apple pie (my FAVORITE; we have a family recipe and it’s a little bit DELICIOUS), and since I know I’m going to be exhausted, I’m going to help her make dinners for the week (chop and stuff), and sleep early. No naps!

Aloha.

 

recap: Paris 2

Written March 31, 2008 (pictures added): in a paris internet cafe kicking time in the NECK.

We have been in Paris since about 9pm, and if it weren’t for the fact that we’ve been on the move for two weeks+ (and I’m exhausted, and my feet feel like i’ve been walking on cobblestones…oh wait, I really have been walking on cobblestone streets this entire time), I really wouldn’t be complaining about being stuck here.

But it’s been two weeks since I’ve been able to sleep for a decent amount of time, comfortably and in a quiet room. I’m cranky and at the point past ’sleepy,’ the one that, as a group, we’ve defined as ‘loopy.’ It’s fitting. Getting up to buy another hour on the computer, I stumbled and fell over, not realizing that there was a mini-ramp to the side until I actually was on my butt and touching it (the ramp).

That was fun.

To give myself a little credit though, it’s a bit dim on this side of the internet cafe as it’s sort of the ‘gamer’-side; the computer screens are even larger. Earlier today there were a bunch of people playing WoW and that made me chuckle on the inside a bit.

Anyway, onto how our little predicament began.

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Spring forward stabbed us in the back

Heather, Craig, Catlett and I woke up this morning after a late, fun night out in Cologne, Germany, in high spirits, sort of sleepy, but pretty much happy with life. And then we get a text from Frannie saying, “Did you guys remember to turn your clocks forward?” or something along those lines and all our good feelings pretty much dissipated. That moment was sort of a stand-still, and then I announced her message to the others and the whole world seemed to be at a stand-still…well, if only.

We booked it out of there, caught a cab and made it to the train at 12:13pm, just in time to see the doors shut. We got to touch those doors, marvel at the fact that they didn’t open, cried a little on the inside as we watched people on the platform wave to people inside the train that slowly pulled out and away from us, and got pissed.

FanTAStic.

We then went to make new reservations, and of course that meant spending more money. Our train was originally for 12:14pm, and the next one that had available seats left at 5:17pm or some crazy time like that. Our train for Marseille is at 6:16am this morning…only about 3 hours until it’s time to leave! How exciting. So we also lost time in Marseille. Poor Frannie is all alone in Marseille, had to check into the apartment-hotel we rented for two nights. At least we’ll be able to spend time there tomorrow relaxing–we’re going to be dead tired.

Well, I suppose that isn’t too much of a change from the rest of the trip thus far. I feel as if I’m in a perpetual state of exhaustion-but it’s happy exhaustion! Which is ok, except I’m the kind of person that needs 10+ hours of sleep, five pillows, a comfy mattress, a sheet, and a down blanket to really get a good night’s rest. That’s not including the lack of stress, lack of caffeine in the system and other weird things that disrupt sleep–there are many. I’m rather picky that way. But when all those conditions are met, man, I’m in heaven.

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Homeless in Paris

     

So Paris is gorgeous at night. At the turn of the hour at one o’clock in thh morning, we walked around and saw the Eiffel Tower explode in white lights from the tons of white light bulbs they fastened to it, took night pictures of the Louvre, saw the Arch de Triumph (sp?), and some other stuff too. Wondrous. Just as important were how sore my feet were, how cramped my left calf was, and how my body would feel come tomorrow. Oh well.

Anyway, I was rather excited to be a wanderer tonight. It’s not often that you’re in Europe with nothing to do but meander down cobblestone streets surrounded by history! And, not that this is a bad thing, we’ve had our entire trip planned pretty much to the tee up to this point. I was anticipating going around Paris without a plan and a place to stay, like a hobo! Except not really. But it was an adventure! Is…but it got old rather quickly haha–-getting sleepy and cold and tired will do that to you, I guess. Though I suppose we are in Paris, and that is something to be envied. I guess.

Heather and Craig are on the computer as well, and Catlett’s passed out on the table next to me.

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Goals for tomorrow: cleansing

Heather and I dream of clean clothes and hope to find a laundromat tomorrow near our apartment. We want to shower upon arriving there, want to relax all day. We may wander around and admire how pretty Marseille is, and I definitely want to see the Chataue d’If-like from Alexandre Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo!-but I’d also really just like to be a vegetable.

Catlett said the day after we arrive back at Sheffield he plans to not move from his bed. When he first said it, I admit to laughing a bit in incredulity, but soon after, and especially now, I’m thinking I could do that for a week after arriving and not be discomfitted in the least.

Ok, Heather’s now out like a light. Her time ran out on the internet, and she set her head down, and I think she’s gone. That’s nice.

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Pluses

- Have now been to Paris twice.

- Ate a ham and tomato panini and a nutella and banana crepe.

- Got to see Paris at night and not crawling with ant-people (people who are pushy, annoying, all over).

- Got some exercise? (Perhaps I’m pushing it with this one.)

- Got to talk to the parents and brother on Skype-chat. Miss them terribly. May come back to Europe next summer with them and start the fun all over again!

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P.S. I want more space cakes from Barney’s coffeeshop in Amsterdam.

 

recap: Cologne

We were only in Cologne for two half days: Sat. 3/29-Sun. 3/30

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Sunlight, FINALLY

 

We arrived mid-day in Cologne, Germany, amid great weather and high spirits because of that. Weather in Paris was rather unfriendly, as was the weather in Paris, so stepping out of the train station in Cologne to be blinded by sunlight was a very happy surprise for us (me, Catlett, Craig and Heather).

The cathedral we’d heard about from Catlett and Craig’s friends from the Hofbrauhaus was right beside the station, so we headed in there for our first stop. It was gorgeous and old. I’m afraid I’m rather desensitized to cathedrals now after this trip–they were all so gorgeous and old. It’s not that they’re no longer awe-inspiring, but I’m not really incredibly excited to see them anymore. Merely…very excited I guess.

Anyway.

After looking around in there for a bit, we eventually headed off in search of our hostel.

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Hostel am Rheinauhafen

On the way we passed by a big pedestrian street filled with people–it was lined with tons of shops and is apparently famous for being a shopping district. Lovely to see all those stores, especially for Heather and I as we were both going into the end of our second week with the same few clothes we’d worn over and over. Felt like burning clothes at this point, which you must know is the edge if girls feel this way.

Anyway, we soon found our hostel and, as the name of the hostel should have clued us in on, was right by the Rhein! The hostel was very nice–had a 6 bed mixed dorm all to ourselves. Very comfy beds and extra blankets and pillows, which was wonderful!

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Dinosaurs in the chocolate museum and craziness on the roof

       

So we were all super exuberant about the great weather that we were rather loopy when we went to the chocolate museum. It was so incredibly sunny and warm outside that we were beside ourselves with happiness that it was almost insanity.

The chocolate factory was fun, saw some rather humongous cocoa beans and seeds, laughed at the chocolate beer and liquor (both of which the boys bought at the end), saw some of those hollow chocolate figures (you know the ones they sell on easter, mostly bunnies) being made, saw truffles being made, saw a huge chocolate fountain (and got a free sample! well…two.) and then went into the heated cocoa plant room.

Heather and I acted like dinosaurs in the wild among the tropical plants as Catlett recorded a Jurassic Park-like documentary in his superb Aussie accent. Silly stuff, but so fun!

   

We then went onto the roof of the museum, which is sort of like an extended balcony, over which you can see the Rhein (the museum is right on the river). Across the river was a carnival, which was just nice to see because it added to how great the day was. The boys tried the chocolate liquor. We acted like silly Americans and probably frightened all the others on the roof with our enthusiasm about silly photography.

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Shopping and karaoke with Germans

Heat and I then went shopping a bit at H&M, and the boys went through torture. Then we went to a supermarket and they got a couple of mini-kegs to pregame with before we went out.

It turns out that Cologne is a big party place! Lots of clubs and pubs to go into, lots of people our age, and very lively and vibrant at night! It almost seemed to have a bigger night life than Sheffield because all of their going out places were concentrated in one area.

We found a club called Hurricane or Tornado or something and went inside to find that it was karaoke night! We met a few German guys who were so friendly and fun and who bought us some drinks (Kolsh or something like that–Cologne beer–because they wanted us to experience Germany at its finest haha!). We also drank a couple of shots–yum, tequila! They sang, “It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi and pulled Catlett and I up on stage with them, and then we (the four Americans) sang, “Bye Bye Bye” by N’Sync! It was so much fun and some of the Germans joined us on stage as well. Then they sang, “Sweet Home Alabama,” and it was so much fun!

Then we went back to the hostel and passed out.

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So the next part of what happened has already been written about, so I’m reposting it and deleting the old post. Coming up!

 

 

recap: Amsterdam

Thurs. 3/27 – Sat. 3/29

Was very neausous until we got off the Tram to the stop we thought was closest to our hotel, the Golden Tulip Apollo.

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The Venice of the North

 

Got super excited that night when we went to wander around because Amsterdam looked like the Venice of the north! Lots of beautiful canals lined with lights, clean, classic looking townhomes, cobblestone streets…it just seemed so northern to me, but with canals! Absolutely loved it–may be one of my favorite places!

Walked around a lot that night, saw ladies in the window (not very good-looking, really, and so I initially thought they were tanning…in the windows–what was I supposed to think?), smelled some weed from coffee shops and on some people! Lots of Heineken signs. Must be their Super Bock (Porto).

Ate at an Italian restaurant that night and splurged on pasta.

Dutch is such a funny language–it sounds funny to me. I don’t know why. Was also like Greek to me. I knew ZERO words.

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Another New Europe free tour :)

 

These tours are awesome. Period. (In case you didn’t catch the emphasis on the period after that first sentence, right?)

We missed the first tour that began at 11am because I assumed it was in one place when it ended up being in another. We caught the 1pm one, and our guide was utterly hilarious. He was just silly! He also looked EXACTLY like Casey (the name is courtesy of Catlett, who know who I meant right away) from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie–I don’t remember which! The same guy who’s now in Law and Order.

Anyway, our guide began with us following him as he walked hsi bike to Dam’s Square with the monument and palace in the plaza, and to get through the crowd in front of our meeting point, he honked the little bell on his bike haha! He was just so crazy–apparently from the farmlands of Holland, working at a coffeeshop now, yeah. We got to the monument and there’s a man standing there.

Our guide says, “Everyone, so, I want you to meet my father. Say hello to my father everyone!”

Some people said, “Hello!”

And then our guide says with a hand cupping the side of his mouth, “No, he’s not really my father, haha! I don’t know who he is. He’s a drunk I think…” and some other silly stuff while the guy is standing right there! He continues his introduction then, and when he looks over next, his ‘father’ is gone, and he says, “Where’d my father go?” hahaha! So silly!

 

Anyway, we learned some interesting stuff about drugs. And also about Amsterdam’s history of course. Went by the Red Light district, saw ladies in windows again, saw the question-mark-shaped men’s public bathrooms (plain view), and what used to be ladies bathrooms–weird orange, rocket-shaped contraptions that turned into heroin addict shelters and were therefore shut down.

Also saw Anne Frank’s house, which was very sad. Um…in the picture above, it’s the one where the Fed Ex truck is somewhat blocking it…I’m a superb photographer.

Also saw and later went into De Dampkring coffeeshop, which was featured in Ocean’s 12. It’s where Matt Damon, Brad Pitt, and George Clooney talk to Massusee or whatever his name is–that character is played by the guy who plays Hagrid in Harry Potter. Anyway, it’s so funny because they play the clip over and over again, and also clips about the history of weed and hemp. The inside has cool colors and a very cool atmosphere–sort of trippy-looking.

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Barney’s Coffeeshop, then Van Gogh museum…good combo, I must say

That night, after going to De Dampkring, we went to Barney’s coffeeshop. It was so cool in there–very modern-looking with lots of Jimi Hendrix music playing. I ate salsa and chips, shared 3 muffins/space cakes with Heat and Craig, and also had a coffee milkshake.

We first shared one space cake because Heather and Craig said you don’t know how hard it’ll hit you. When we didn’t feel anything, we shared two more. We had two strawberry ones and one chocolate–the strawberry ones were DELICIOUS.

I really had no idea what I was supposed to feel, and didn’t really realize I was feeling it until we went to the Van Gogh museum and had to be pulled away by Heather when I got left behind lots. Eating those things was also a spur of the moment decision–I’d been debating, but then they ordered, and I was mentally like, what the hell? Yum.

Wanted to buy a shirt and one for Frankie, but they didn’t have the sizes and flipped out at Craig when he wanted to buy one.

So we went to the Van Gogh museum afterwards and that was SO cool. I was really relaxed and focused and in a sort of zone really, very chill. I think it made the museum so much cooler and more wondrous and I loved it so much. I read every single plaque next to each and every scribble and painting. Saw Mallais’ Lady Ophelia and watched part of a documentary on it–had to focus really hard for some reason because first it would be an English person speaking with Dutch subtitles, and then it would be a Dutch person speaking with English subtitles, and I would focus on the word when the English person was on, and sometimes forget to start reading the subtitles when the Dutch person came on. That was very interesting stuff though, and then Heather got me because I was being left behind.

Saw Touluz Loutrec (sp?!), the one with the lady, saw Van Gogh scribbles on the backs of restaurant menus. Saw his major works–place is so cool!

Anyway, the walk back was cold, but it was nice. Catlett laughed at me and said I was high, and I guess I was? I suppose I got giggly on the way back, and especially in the room–could not stop laughing and tears literally started pouring out of my eyeballs. Well, from the ducts. Eh, semantics, yeah?

Um…there were reasons behind the laughing though, but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to explain because it was so funny, and by the time I finished laughing, we’d moved on to a different topic or they’d stop caring because everything was so crazy.

Yeah so…I suppose the word of the day is ‘alamond.’ I’m too embarrassed to explain.

Got a sandwich, candy and juice at the Shell gas station.

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Onto Cologne!

 

recap: Paris

 

So we were in Paris Tuesday night (3/25) to Thursday morning ( 3/27).

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My first impression of Paris was that of a very bustling city–a European New York with seemingly the exact same sort of drivers. Our taxi driver drove like we were in the Philippines, where the street lanes are merely suggestions and other cars are obstactles that you must sometimes bump to move out of the way.

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A nice waiter at a cafe on the Rue Ramey

Because we had to be sneaky here in Paris, I was the sneak king this time around.

I waited down the street from our hostel while the boys checked in, and found a little cafe on the street corner, which beat staring at fruit outside a shop in the cold with the store-owner staring at me staring. That was awkward for the ten seconds I attempted that particular stalling technique.

Was rather flustered just upon entering the cafe soon after because when I pushed open the door, I hit somebody. He was dressed in a red shirt with the air of a waiter. I took in the fact that I hit him with a door, and the fact that the cafe looked much like a bar, and then turned to him asking, “Cafe?” as in, “is there coffee here or just alcohol, because if it’s the latter, I’ll go back and stand and stare at fruit while the store-owner stares at me, probably thinking that, with this backpacking pack still on my back, I’m about to commit some sort of theivery.”

Mr. Kind Waiter replied, “Coffee? a;sldgasldjg…to the bar,” and led me there. I didn’t speak too much because I hear that they like it if you try to speak some French, and I knew not one whit of French besides ‘merci,’ and I also didn’t want people to be unfriendly to me just because I am American, but I think it just seemed like I was either mute or extra foreign.

Anyway, I waited at the bar for a bit because I didn’t know what I was supposed to do–the one guy at the bar seemed very occupied, and I figured, I had time to kill. Mr. Kind Waiter came back around to stand beside me, then he yelled, “Cafe creme!” at another guy at the counter, and soon I had it. It came with a little biscuit too! Yum.  Delicious–the coffee too, though it was 3.90 euros. Perhaps my mind is compromising for paying that much!

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Tower at night

   

The boys soon found me and we headed to the Louvre. Took some pictures outside and nearby though.

     

It turned out to be closed as it was a Tuesday, so we headed to the Eiffel Tower–gorgeous at night! I liked it better then than when we saw it during the day. Granted, it was rather gloomy outside, but I still think it was beautiful at night, what with the lights lighting up its bones like a fluorescent skeleton.

Took quite a few pictures, took one looking up under the tower and sort of felt like I was invading someone’s privacy. Odd, that feeling.

Got to see the reaction when the turn of the clock catalyzed the Tower in a brilliant array of hundreds of flashing white lights.

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Very nice French receptionist at Le Montclaire Hostel

So I snuck up to the room that night, and when the boys came to meet me, they said that everything was all right. They’d spoken to the receptionist, asking if it was all right to have a third person in our room because they (I) ended up coming to Paris too. The guy said technically it’s not allowed, but if he didn’t know about it (wink wink), then it’d be okay. Boys bought him wine. How friendly!

It was a bunk bed with tiny beds, and Craig went to sleep early and slept on the bottom bunk. Seriously. Catlett and I tried to share the top one, but it was awfully hard, and he ended up sleeping on the floor–poor guy! He seems to have slept on the floor more than on a bed throughout the trip!

Ate free breakfast of baguettes, coffee, hot chocolate…

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New Europe free tours are awesome

         

Then went on another of those New Europe free tours! It was four hours long, but it was wonderful, funny, interesting–the tour guides work off of tips so they do their best to make the tours great. We learned a LOT about French history, saw and learned a lot about many sites we otherwise would probably never have seen or would have passed by obliviously.

There was a funny story–I think it was about the bridge on the Pont Neuf–about how a king (King Henry IV?) with a wonderful sense of humor was having a fabulous party with all his top guys. They ran out of champagne so he used his king card and got out tons of red wine to keep the party going. All his top officials were his good buddies, so he went to the sculptors of the castle and said, make sketches of all my boys–and because champagne and red wine apparently don’t mix very well, the sketches and the sculptures that were consequently created from said sketches were not very appealing. The faces on this bridge are absolutely hilarious–one looks like he’s about to throw up!

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She smiled at me, but children got in the way and made me frustrated

       

After the tour we went to the Louvre for 9 euros. It really is as huge as everyone says and warns. Apparently, if you go through the entire thing and see all 30,000+ pieces for 30 seconds apiece, it’ll take approximately four YEARS to get through it!

We were so tired and exhausted after the tour though, and from lack of sleep, that we didn’t stay too long. We did get to see the Mona Lisa though! Also the Napoleon III apartments and also quite a few other pieces, but we were too tired to really enjoy or relish them. It was nice to go in and experience it though. I feel like the Louvre is more of an experience, really, than anything else. Another thing that may have made me feel even more exhausted, however, may have been the hundreds of children crawling all over the place. Seriously. After this trip I feel as if I have lost my patience with children as a group.

We also ended up seeing Alli randomly! We walked by her, and Catlett and I look at each other wondering, “Is that her?” And so I turn back around and say, “Alli! Alli! ALLI!” But she didn’t turn around, but we were pretty sure that it was her. So then we walked back over and then she SCREAMED and hugged us and it was good fun.

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France vs. England: don’t worry, it was a football match

That night we watched the England vs. Franch football match with another one of the French receptionists–he was very friendly and I liked how, when one of the players lifted up his shirt so the crowd could see a commemoration in French to a man who’d passed away, I was able to turn to this French receptionist and ask, “What does that say?” And he told me, though I can’t remember what the message was anymore.

Hung out with Heather and Jay a bit. Craig and Catlett drank some wine–Craig had 2.25 bottles or so and left 15 minutes before the game ended and about 10 minutes before Heat and Jay showed up. Catlett helped him up the 5 flights of winding steps to our room.

Catlett and I later went up, and it’s a bit of a story, that night, but it’s a Craig-secret that has brought us all closer together.

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The next day we saw Notre Dame :o)

Then we were off to Amsterdam!

 

girls gone wild…well, kind of.

Girls’ Night Out

Do you want the reality or the lie? Both are good fun :o)

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The poor boys felt left out, retaliated with a Boys’ Night and some masculine raaaaaring

Last night was the Annexe’s self-proclaimed Girls’ Night Out. We all got dressed and agreed to convene down in the common room before heading off to Vodka Revolution.

Heat, Frannie and I get down there and are greeted with boys who feel they’ve been scorned. Though they don’t have what hell hath no fury like, and just seemed silly and sad when they yelled and said mean things about us intruding on Boys’ Night in the common. “What happened to Girls’ Night? Aren’t you going to Vodka Rev? Why haven’t you left yet? You can’t be here! It’s Boys’ Night down here!”

Stephan shouted a bit, and, because he’s German and large, was rather frightening. Catlett was apparently not very friendly. Troy and Brandon threw cans at walls.

Overall, not very impressive. More like gorillas.

Also took their pants off to commemorate their boys’ night. Asked Garrett why he didn’t join in the taking off of the pants, and he replied, “I don’t know, but this isn’t what we do when it’s guys’ night back home,” hahahaha! And then later, as we wished them farewell and a have a good boys’ night, he said, “I don’t know about boys’ night,” and we asked, “Why not?” and he told us, “It’ll be more of a ‘Man Night.’” Hahah, what a silly Aussie!

Anyway, the girls and I went over to the other side of the common room. The boys were playing circle of death/kings on the pong table, so we left them on that side, but after their game, they, for some reason, meandered over to our side of the room to harass us again. This later was fuel for laughter at them, but more on that later.

“Bad Touch” by the Bloodhound Gang played and Rob did the German Club line dance, which reminded me of Joe! Haha–good times being Cho Chang and Harry Potter!

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Nine hookers on a corner

So there were nine girls total when we left and stood at the corner of Shore Lane and Fulwood. We initally planned on taking the bus, but after a few minutes of dawdling and chatting, as girls are wont to do, we realized that the buses stopped running right when we arrived. We then ordered two cabs to take us to Vodka Rev.

While we waited, we laughed at how the boys were acting like jilted lovers and how it seemed like they felt left out! It was hilarious. It made us determined to have the best night ever, which we did. Though we planned to lie and tell stories if we, for some reason, didn’t have a great night or somehow didn’t end up anywhere–we would’ve stayed on that street corner until the wee hours of the morning if we’d had to. Haha!

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We closed down Vodka Rev

VR is a very posh, chic bar/club with expensive drinks, notorious for their rails and extensive flavored vodka selection. We all got VK mixed drinks (Blue and Apple). So perfect for our girls’ night because the boys are very cheap/careful with their money, and so are we!–but we had to do it RIGHT.

We danced and drank until the bar closed–we were the last ones there and kept on until the music stopped (“please don’t stop the music…”), and the bar tenders began to sweep the floors. We danced with one of the bouncers because he was silly, and then outside with the DJ as we left.  

Then we headed to Bar One, which was closed, and then on to The Harley where we continued our dancing spree to disco and funk music. They played “All Right Now” by Free, which made my NIGHT.

Then we walked home, which was a seriously difficult trek as I was, unwisely, wearing my heels. We got Padrino’s pizza and fries, ate and chatted there, vented and gossiped (wasn’t it a girls’ night? haha), then headed home.

Catlett was still up with Aussie Tom, so we talked to them a bit and related tales of our night (free drinks from British boys and talked about lingerie night and the cool girls we met!), then went upstairs.

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Great night overall. We all plan to have a weekly Girls’ Night, if only to spite the boys further, but also because it’s nice to get away from them, and last night was so much fun :o)

 

character chronicalling: the only time you will ever read me philosophizing, hopefully

Ok, this is not so much my procrastination acting up so much as a reflection on what I’ve read and thus realized about narratives after reading Salman Rushie’s Shame.

Hopefully this will be the only time you will ever read me philosophizing, because I hate philosophy.

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Anyway, I’ve thought about this somewhat before too, but here’s the initial question:

What if there was a way to document why we do everything we do? What if, somehow, there was a way to pinpoint how something (something you’ve seen, felt, done, experienced, etc.) directly affects how you see, feel, do, experience, etc., everything else in your life in the future? How one particular point in your life (see the list mentioned twice now) affects everything else you do and think, and is continuously added upon by each new little thing?

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For example:

When I was little I used to always have dry lips and licked them a lot, so Dad would continuously hand me chap-stick. Now, I always have to have chap-stick on me–there’s one in my jacket pocket, one in my bag, and one in my make-up kit. I’ve actually just now realized I do carry it around everywhere. Interesting, that.

Anyway, you see?

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But what of the little things? What of the things we consciously don’t realize but subconsciously take in that affect us on such a deep level that we can’t even comprehend it?

This philosophical turn of mind arose because I’m reading this rather fabulous novel for my Introduction to Post-Colonial Literature class (we read texts from the points of view of those who are of cultures that have been colonized). The way Rushdie narrates, and most authors who focus on characterization rather than popular plotlines do as well, creates a pattern of one thing leading to another because of the way that first thing has affected the character.

That is to say, readers are shown what has happened to a character. Then, later on, we are shown how a character reacts to something else, and can then connect why, understand why and almost feel as if we could have predicted why that character has reacted a certain way.

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For example:

Arjumand was nicknamed “Ironpants” for turning away all her suitors because she is a very strong person, independent, and very mean. She loves only her father, even though he was not so admirable before he had a change of heart, until she meets a young man who is reminiscient of her father before that change of heart. She believes that this man, Haroun, is pretty much her father reincarnated (if she believed in such idolatry, which was blasphemous), and with her help, could suffer a change of heart and become a great man like her father. She fell in love with him.

He, like all the men of the world, wants to be with her, and because she’s done it to everyone else and can’t seem to turn it off, she drives him away with “that terrible and uninterruptedly disgusted gaze.” She regrets it immediately and, when he is bethrothed to another woman, she goes into a rage and later says to her mirror, “God damn. Life is shit.” (This cracked me up like no other; I don’t know why.)

Yeah, so then she pretty much lives her life in worship to her father.

And this made me think, it’s easy in a novel–a fictional narrative–to say, because she accidentally pushed away the only man she ever loved, other than her father, she decides to love no one else BUT her father.

Point A leads to Point B.

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Fiction vs. Real Life: besides the fact that one is fake and one is real

There’s also, of course, the huge difference between fiction and real life, though Coetzee would say that fiction is like real life, it just hasn’t happened yet (something like that). I feel like there’s a vast separation between the two not just because one is real and one isn’t, but because in fiction, we seem to get all the facts–we get as much as is necessary to understand what is happening and why. Life isn’t like that, and I don’t want to get too philosophical about it because I’ll hate myself, but we will never have all the facts. 

I don’t know, it just seemed interesting to me that in novels, people are so easy to understand–we are shown why they act the way they do and we come to believe that we know them, know their motives and aspirations. Authors seem to feel a sense of accomplishment when their readers say, “I feel like I KNOW your character!” And perhaps this is because they’ve accomplished what is essentially un-accomplishable.

In real life, I guess it’s not so easy. We can think, oh, well, this girl acts like this because her dad is a drunk. But we don’t know that for sure. We think so, but we don’t know. What is it about his being drunk drove her to do this and that–the smell of alcohol? the way he passed out on the floor every night in the fetal position? how he always ate only the puffy, most orange cheetoes when he got the munchies? what nerve did that small pinpointed thing hit within that girl that made her finger twitch? that made her brain think she was being tickled? that reminded her of something else, which made her then react by stealing the neighbor’s toothbrush?

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Not quite a conclusion, but a wrapping up of thoughts of sorts

I just thought it was interesting–thinking about what it would be like to know yourself so well that you could pinpoint why you got scared of a shadow that looked like a lollipop as you were walking home. Lollipops have never scared you, you like lollipops, but for some reason you were terrified of the shadow of one last night (this is not a real life example; I made this up because it is absurd).

I thought it was interesting to think about what it would be like to understand why people act the way they do, trace their lives and everything that happened in them, and add up how each little thing culminated together to the point where they said that in such a way at such a time with such a tone of voice, etc.

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Philosophizing at an end.

Yeah, so I promise to be quiet about my own thoughts like that for a while. I apologize for the rambles, but as the subtitle of the blog warns, this blog is for rambles and rants. 

On the plus side, these are cheaper than thoughts, which cost a penny. And they’re doubly cheap because here in England we only have one pence coins, and those are worth two pennies in the US.

 

i am a squash–both physically and mentally, it seems like

It’s nice being back at Sheffield, the quasi-home and familiar place that I’ve lived in for only approximately five weeks.

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Squash, the laziest veggie of them all, at least in my mind

I missed being a vegetable. I was thinking about it earlier, and I’m going to liken myself to a squash. I couldn’t really think of too many vegetables at the time–carrot? green bean? broccoli?–and finally settled on squash because I’ve been putting on weight, and also because they seem like the laziest of all vegetables to me.

Have been trying to catch up on sleep and relaxation because I’ve been feeling sick and also because I like sleep and relaxation. If you know me, you’ll know that hours of relaxation and 10+ hours of sleep a night are necessary to my survival. I have not gotten the 10+ hours of sleep since arriving on this continent, and the hours of vegetation have been in minutes it seems like. Classes and such getting in the way.

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Parents think they’ve paid for me to travel around Europe and read books, not go to school

I’m not going to lie, it seems like this title is the truth. Though that’s merely how they do things here! The travelling is not included, but the book-reading is. They read lots and go to lectures every so often, and then they take one exam or write solely two essays to demonstrate their retention of the bequeathed knowledge. I have two books + poems + secondary essays + textbook readings to muddle through each week.

This is difficult because, as I’ve mentioned before, I need to somehow fit in those hours of vegetation that are so essential for me. And there’s also that disease called procrastination that I fight so hard every single day of my life. Such a difficult life I lead, I know.

So it seems like I have much to do now, and I do. I was in a new country meeting new people so those first five weeks here in Sheffield were exploratory weeks, and now I find myself having to crack down on my haphazard ways and hit the books. Sometimes I do, quite literally, against walls. But that’s not the point.

The point is, the main reason that my parents believe that I have conned them into paying for a four-month vacation for me is that I’ve finally found out what my exam schedule is like. My last class of the semester is on May 16th. My first exam is on June 3rd. My other two fall on June 6th and June 12th respectively.

Surely you understand how they might think I was lying about going to an actual school here when I’ve just told them that I have two weeks of no classes or exams to kill (perhaps to travel during). This would be an impossibility at home as usually we have ONE reading day at Tech. Here they have a WEEK.

However, the reason is because there is a lot of independent study and revising that must go on (revising=reviewing or studying here, which took a while for me to figure out; I wondered if perhaps I wasn’t doing assignments and then was missing revising them or something). Anyway, they also only have one exam a semester.

So, I told the family to visit, namely Dad who has tons of days off and who would love to drink lots of European beer. I know he is tempted, and I hope to coerce him into coming every single night we skype :o)

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Catlett’s 21st Birthday

Dear Catlett took his birthday off of facebook because he thinks of it as just another day, would like to avoid birthday message spamming on facebook and in his email, doesn’t want to be older than 19 ever, and didn’t want to get falling down drunk and be a fool on his birthday.

A few of us here greatly protested each point he made for why he did not like birthdays.

1) It was the day he was born, for which we are all very happy about sometimes = thank you Mr. and Mrs. Catlett :o)

2) We all actually love birthday spammage! It’s nice to hear from people you haven’t spoken to in years, nice knowing they remember who you are and are still nice enough people that they wish you a great birthday

3) Being legal in the US is always a plus–it is the culmination of your long, long life thus far in one single day when you must drink until you almost die, as is the tradition of people all over the world (I’ve learned it’s not just in the US!), but more on drinking until death next

4) It’s the day when you can be as awfully drunk and crazy as possible and have people love you for it, it’s the day when you can be a fool, and not remember and listen to the stories the next night when you finally get over your hangover, and it’s the day when people will buy you as many drinks as they can stuff down your throat.

I bought him a tub of ice cream the day before his birthday in place of the cookies I had planned to make (because they don’t sell cookie mix and I was not about to begin his birthday with the disaster of Mika trying to make cookies from scratch) and came back to the Annexe to find that there is no freezer here, so I had to give it to him a day early because it was melting in the refridgerator. Is that not the back jacket summary to the paper-back novel of my life?

Anyway, went to Bar One the night before the clock turned a hand to Catlett’s Big Day, and people were stuffing shots and drinks down his throat. Apparently he did not like that and left and isolated himself in his room later that night to escape, and he continued to hide away the entire next day (his birthday, man!). He was rather drunk though, to give him credit, and amazingly stable enough that he made it to his room without maiming himself.

Was hiding in his room the next day, finally caught him later to give him his presents, which I’d gotten on Sunday: a big bottle of ketchup (because he loves tons of ketchup on everything) and chips and salsa (because he never splurges on himself; that is, he never spends money to get himself yummy things).

I also made two gorgeous signs, if I do say so myself. One was from me saying, “Happy Birthday, Catlett!” with lots of his famous quotes from our trip, Wheezy lyrics, a picture of a hoodie because I am an artist, also a picture of a doxen and chips and salsa and some other awesome stuff. I never knew I was so good of a drawer. This is me being sarcastic. I find myself having to actually say, “I’m being sarcastic, now,” because apparently people can’t tell, and then they seem to think I’m being sarcastic when I’m not. I tell them if I am now to avoid confusion. Anyway, I also made one from Catlett’s mom because she said to say happy birthday to him, so I made an extra sign and it was so pretty with a picture of “boy in flowers”–I actually really liked this picture–and a bigger doxen picture, which wasn’t fat enough or long enough body-wise, and some other fun stuff like that. I do hope he enjoyed them.

Then that night we went to the York to watch the Liverpool-Arsenal match and it was SO EXCITING and wonderful to watch! Then they went to Bar One again, and Catlett held strong against too many drinks because he said he didn’t want to be a fool on his birthday, which made me kind of sad, but bravo to him for that iron will of his, because really, it’s strong–it might even be made of adamantium.

That’s Catlett in a nutshell for you–adamantium will, amazing memory (though he still has to convince me that this is still true because it’s been lacking recently), goal-oriented (job with the government; also ties in with that impossible will power of his), and practical. I think I’ve written the perfect summary for his resume here.

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Anyway, I’ve procrastinated for 5.5 hours today blogging, eating dinner, and writing a novel to Cow. I suppose it’s time to do as I mentioned earlier in this post and crack down on some books. Wish me luck, for I fear that the procastination disease is especially violent today.