Hey family,
That's essentially, you Mel, Mom, and Stace.
I'm going to warn you, I'm going to take this blog in a slightly new direction soon, and you might want to stop reading. Or maybe I want you to stop reading. But in any case, what I am going to put is going to be embarrassing for me to have you reading. So either you can stop reading, or you can stop talking to me about the things you read. Ok?
xoxxo
Ness
Friday, August 10, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Mal du pays/ Heimweh
zik: Bonnie and Clyde, de Gainsbourg
Sometimes I get homesick.
Sometimes I'm aware it's happening.
For example, I expect homesickness on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and special events. For example, my sister just graduated (doctorate!) and she had a baby. I miss her and her family terribly, and really wish I could be there for those milestone moments. Also, another niece turned 11, and my dear dear cousin just graduated uni.
Sometimes, I am not expecting to be homesick: I am clued in by sudden very random urges I get.
For example, the more starting a Bob Seger cover band sounds appealing, or-
The more I want to watch baseball, or-
When I find myself craving fried mac and cheese balls, dunkin donuts, or the Garment District. . .
Well, actually no. I miss the garment district all year round.
But you get the point.
Anyways, I watched a documentary, "Water" yesterday and it said that supposedly, the water in your body is identical to the water in your hometown.
Go figure!
But now when they say, you can take the girl out of Massachusetts, but you can't take the Massachusetts out of the girl, well it really holds water doesn't it? (SWIDT?)
And it's not as easy as just going home.
Because after about 15 days of being home (but it really is dependent on how much fascism and idiocy I see there. . . )
I start getting France sick. And I start missing croissants, the sound of French, and rude, cold, snobby people. ; ) Teasing, but American friendliness is a bit disconcerting at first. . . I do miss walking French tho, when I am in the US.
So essentially I would like to tell anyone thinking about embarking on a polylingual, multinational path:
Unless you're super rich and can go anywhere anytime, be prepared to miss out on milestones, and miss people. All the time.
Sometimes I get homesick.
Sometimes I'm aware it's happening.
For example, I expect homesickness on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and special events. For example, my sister just graduated (doctorate!) and she had a baby. I miss her and her family terribly, and really wish I could be there for those milestone moments. Also, another niece turned 11, and my dear dear cousin just graduated uni.
Sometimes, I am not expecting to be homesick: I am clued in by sudden very random urges I get.
For example, the more starting a Bob Seger cover band sounds appealing, or-
The more I want to watch baseball, or-
When I find myself craving fried mac and cheese balls, dunkin donuts, or the Garment District. . .
Well, actually no. I miss the garment district all year round.
But you get the point.
Anyways, I watched a documentary, "Water" yesterday and it said that supposedly, the water in your body is identical to the water in your hometown.
Go figure!
But now when they say, you can take the girl out of Massachusetts, but you can't take the Massachusetts out of the girl, well it really holds water doesn't it? (SWIDT?)
And it's not as easy as just going home.
Because after about 15 days of being home (but it really is dependent on how much fascism and idiocy I see there. . . )
I start getting France sick. And I start missing croissants, the sound of French, and rude, cold, snobby people. ; ) Teasing, but American friendliness is a bit disconcerting at first. . . I do miss walking French tho, when I am in the US.
So essentially I would like to tell anyone thinking about embarking on a polylingual, multinational path:
Unless you're super rich and can go anywhere anytime, be prepared to miss out on milestones, and miss people. All the time.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
get up stand up
Les sons du moment:
Francky Vincent: fruit de la passion
Cheb Khaled: Aïcha
Beegees: Staying alive
Oh bon Dieu comment personne n'arrive à garder quoi que ce soit secret dans ma famille, autant que j'en parle. Merde!
Since no one in my family seems to be able to keep a secret, I might as well talk about it! Dangit!
Anyways, I was trying to protect certain people (y compris moi même) with children (and or no sense of humor - my humor at least) from this very uncertain and not at all hopeful reality:
I'm doing some stand up.
I've just had my 7th performance. It went very well thank you.
Sadly, the owner is shutting down the Pranzo (my favourite parisian comedy haunt) so the organizer has to find a new space. So I might be doing a lot less in the upcoming weeks. :(
And if I'm not showing you, it's probably because I esteem that my subject matter is too racy for you, and or that it's not polished enough. My OCD lies in perfectionism. I don't want to show you a draft. I want you to see polish. Or see, what I see as polished.
But yeah it's quite racy.
Very family inappropriate.
So I would like to try to list my comedy icons, from early days to now. Peewee Herman, Gonzo the Great, Fozzy T Bear, Statler and Waldorf, Animaniacs, Adventures of Pete and Pete, old SNL, KITH, Janeane Garafalo, Jim Bruer, Jeremy Hotz, George Carlin, Jon Stewart, SOAP, then I moved and had other things on my mind like learning French.
Then I got into it again, Mitch Hedburg, BILL HICKS (n°1 ever IMHO) then I got seriously into it (twhs) and Dice, Pryor, Rickles phase I went. Also, a roast phase. I love Lisa Lampanelli and Greg Giraldo (MHRIP). I really love roasts. I love watching a bunch of comics tear the shit out of each other. Chelsea Handler (pre nose job of course, although which one?), and very recently, my new acquaintances at the Pranzo.
Please no one ever talk to me about Woody Allen again though. I honestly do not give a shit about that boundary abusing fuck.
But I really love what artists like Hicks and Pryor have done have done for our collective unconscious. Hicks: see marketers, Christians (particularly about the cross) and Kennedy. Pryor: see the N word.
in the forest voice: "that's all she had to say about that"
Francky Vincent: fruit de la passion
Cheb Khaled: Aïcha
Beegees: Staying alive
Oh bon Dieu comment personne n'arrive à garder quoi que ce soit secret dans ma famille, autant que j'en parle. Merde!
Since no one in my family seems to be able to keep a secret, I might as well talk about it! Dangit!
Anyways, I was trying to protect certain people (y compris moi même) with children (and or no sense of humor - my humor at least) from this very uncertain and not at all hopeful reality:
I'm doing some stand up.
I've just had my 7th performance. It went very well thank you.
Sadly, the owner is shutting down the Pranzo (my favourite parisian comedy haunt) so the organizer has to find a new space. So I might be doing a lot less in the upcoming weeks. :(
And if I'm not showing you, it's probably because I esteem that my subject matter is too racy for you, and or that it's not polished enough. My OCD lies in perfectionism. I don't want to show you a draft. I want you to see polish. Or see, what I see as polished.
But yeah it's quite racy.
Very family inappropriate.
So I would like to try to list my comedy icons, from early days to now. Peewee Herman, Gonzo the Great, Fozzy T Bear, Statler and Waldorf, Animaniacs, Adventures of Pete and Pete, old SNL, KITH, Janeane Garafalo, Jim Bruer, Jeremy Hotz, George Carlin, Jon Stewart, SOAP, then I moved and had other things on my mind like learning French.
Then I got into it again, Mitch Hedburg, BILL HICKS (n°1 ever IMHO) then I got seriously into it (twhs) and Dice, Pryor, Rickles phase I went. Also, a roast phase. I love Lisa Lampanelli and Greg Giraldo (MHRIP). I really love roasts. I love watching a bunch of comics tear the shit out of each other. Chelsea Handler (pre nose job of course, although which one?), and very recently, my new acquaintances at the Pranzo.
Please no one ever talk to me about Woody Allen again though. I honestly do not give a shit about that boundary abusing fuck.
But I really love what artists like Hicks and Pryor have done have done for our collective unconscious. Hicks: see marketers, Christians (particularly about the cross) and Kennedy. Pryor: see the N word.
in the forest voice: "that's all she had to say about that"
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Wild wild life
Ohh life it's bigger, it's bigger than you, and you are not me. The things that I would go through . . .
Renewness, stop stealing Michael Stipe lyrics. It doesn't matter if REM is dead.
Oh are they still dead?
Yes, but not like MCA. Too soon?
Yeah kind of, I'll miss the Beastie Boys.
Why was I writing again?
Oh yes, I, renewness, would hereby like to declare that I am funny in the walls.
Here is a picture of Hungary's parliament, lit up at night.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Special day
Why hello, Reader.
"well, looks like we've got ourselves a reader"
Today is a very special day.
First and foremost:
Big up to my sister, who is defending her thesis today! Sis, so proud of you. You have achieved so great, and accomplished so much. Words really cannot express the singularity and specialness of your triumph.
And in the proverbial "Old World" my awesome aunt (pronounced aw as in law;)has arrived and is visiting me for a whole week!
Fabulous.
So thank you, reader, for partaking in my joyous news!
Peace
"well, looks like we've got ourselves a reader"
Today is a very special day.
First and foremost:
Big up to my sister, who is defending her thesis today! Sis, so proud of you. You have achieved so great, and accomplished so much. Words really cannot express the singularity and specialness of your triumph.
And in the proverbial "Old World" my awesome aunt (pronounced aw as in law;)has arrived and is visiting me for a whole week!
Fabulous.
So thank you, reader, for partaking in my joyous news!
Peace
Monday, February 13, 2012
Free at Last
Where to begin?
Often I like to rub it in my American family's face that I get unlimited ADSL, unlimited international calling from the landline to landlines and cells, and tv with digital recording option (think Tivo)all for the low low price of €30 a month.
This magical company is called Free, and the package is called Freebox. (Use of English is very creative for French marketers, in a country where creativity languishes like lily pads in the desert)
I love my freebox because I can call my American family for no fees.
However Free has outdone themselves.
Back in the day France Telecom was a government owned monopoly. They had control over the entire market and in 2000 the government sold FT and it had its IPO.
Since then two other companies were started and the three of them, Bouygues, France Telecom (rebranded Orange after one too many employee suicides, due to on purpose horrible management)and SFR had an amicale arrangement between them to keep the market profitable for them.
So arriving in 2003, I was not prepared to pay €60 for 5H of monthly talk time with a 2 year contract (indeed, who knew how long I'd actually stay here?)
I took my pay as you go (that I never had money to charge) and accepted the consequences on my social life. Imagine, not being able to call people back or write back (or even first). Or insisting that the RDV be at a fixed point and time to avoid having to find a payphone to call them to ask that typical phone question "T'es où?" (Where are you?)
So it was sure that my economy did not facilitate the making of friends here.
Back to Free, bless them. On January 12th, after months of speculation, they finally opened their offers for cell phones.
For €20 I get unlimited data, texts, and calling to all numbers in France, landlines in Europe and cells and landlines in many other countries in the world including US and Canada. No contract, cancel anytime.
It did of course take a week for my sim card to arrive in the mail.
And of course iphone did not like having the sim card changed, and caused problems.
And of course Jerome manipulated it in a way that made all my non-apple apps cease working, eventually leading to a complete restore and the loss of my entire music library.
I find it difficult to get into the phoning mode, having been without for so long.
And now that free has broken the market, the others dare sink lower. They couldn't have had the conscious to offer cheaper products as theirs were the most expensive in Europe almost, and many people could not afford it until they were made to by competition. I think that is shameful, and very typical of France.
I will never ever leave Free. I feel so justified in my sacrifice and saved that they are here.
As they say, you vote with your dollars, and I feel happy because I never gave those other companies, who could have lowered their prices at any time, my hard earned money.
Often I like to rub it in my American family's face that I get unlimited ADSL, unlimited international calling from the landline to landlines and cells, and tv with digital recording option (think Tivo)all for the low low price of €30 a month.
This magical company is called Free, and the package is called Freebox. (Use of English is very creative for French marketers, in a country where creativity languishes like lily pads in the desert)
I love my freebox because I can call my American family for no fees.
However Free has outdone themselves.
Back in the day France Telecom was a government owned monopoly. They had control over the entire market and in 2000 the government sold FT and it had its IPO.
Since then two other companies were started and the three of them, Bouygues, France Telecom (rebranded Orange after one too many employee suicides, due to on purpose horrible management)and SFR had an amicale arrangement between them to keep the market profitable for them.
So arriving in 2003, I was not prepared to pay €60 for 5H of monthly talk time with a 2 year contract (indeed, who knew how long I'd actually stay here?)
I took my pay as you go (that I never had money to charge) and accepted the consequences on my social life. Imagine, not being able to call people back or write back (or even first). Or insisting that the RDV be at a fixed point and time to avoid having to find a payphone to call them to ask that typical phone question "T'es où?" (Where are you?)
So it was sure that my economy did not facilitate the making of friends here.
Back to Free, bless them. On January 12th, after months of speculation, they finally opened their offers for cell phones.
For €20 I get unlimited data, texts, and calling to all numbers in France, landlines in Europe and cells and landlines in many other countries in the world including US and Canada. No contract, cancel anytime.
It did of course take a week for my sim card to arrive in the mail.
And of course iphone did not like having the sim card changed, and caused problems.
And of course Jerome manipulated it in a way that made all my non-apple apps cease working, eventually leading to a complete restore and the loss of my entire music library.
I find it difficult to get into the phoning mode, having been without for so long.
And now that free has broken the market, the others dare sink lower. They couldn't have had the conscious to offer cheaper products as theirs were the most expensive in Europe almost, and many people could not afford it until they were made to by competition. I think that is shameful, and very typical of France.
I will never ever leave Free. I feel so justified in my sacrifice and saved that they are here.
As they say, you vote with your dollars, and I feel happy because I never gave those other companies, who could have lowered their prices at any time, my hard earned money.
Monday, February 6, 2012
My Name is Amadou
I have met my muse. He is a six(?) year old first grader in one of my classes. So he is definitely not my muse in the creepy sense, but rather his story inspires me so much.
I met Amadou in Emmanuelle's class. He sits right up front, to the right of where I stand. He is very enthusiastic, sometimes to the point of losing control and disrupting (like yelling or whatnot or being spastic.) When I need him to stop, I always tell him I am happy he is so enthusiastic about English, but that I need him to control himself so we can keep learning.
Last week I learned that Amadou came from Africa in the middle of last year. In fact, his aunt, who lives in France, came to Africa to get him. Then later his mom joined them in France. They left behind his big sister.
Furthermore his mom is an illegal, and could be deported any day.
Imagine your mom telling you: so this lady is going to come and take you far away. You have never met her, but she is my sister.
So you go with her, far far away. And wait for your mom.
Then can you imagine: living in third world Africa and then going to Europe? It's a big change, electricity, water, lights, cars, different clothes, different language and customs? Not to mention how goshdarn cold it is here this week (below freezing).
I can't imagine what this little boy went through/ goes through.
I also worry about the sister left behind.
I would love to write down his story from his point of view and include his original artwork and convince one of my illustrator friends to do artwork of his mom and him, and then try to publish it.
However I imagine these are painful things to talk about for Amadou, and I imagine even less that his mom would let him for fear of repercussions in the form of the French gov deporting her.
If I could get them to agree and find a publisher, I would take 30% (my cut for the work of publishing/writing/paying my friends' for their artwork). Of the 70% of profits left I would give half to Amadou's mom and put the other half in a trust for Amadou for when he is an adult.
In this Presidential election year, often the debate moves to illegals and their "drain" on the system. What kind of spoiled, ungrateful people are we then? Unaware of how good we have it, and unwilling to share?
Amadou did not ask for any of this. His mom just wants a better life.
So what do you think? Should I pursue writing "My Name is Amadou"?
I met Amadou in Emmanuelle's class. He sits right up front, to the right of where I stand. He is very enthusiastic, sometimes to the point of losing control and disrupting (like yelling or whatnot or being spastic.) When I need him to stop, I always tell him I am happy he is so enthusiastic about English, but that I need him to control himself so we can keep learning.
Last week I learned that Amadou came from Africa in the middle of last year. In fact, his aunt, who lives in France, came to Africa to get him. Then later his mom joined them in France. They left behind his big sister.
Furthermore his mom is an illegal, and could be deported any day.
Imagine your mom telling you: so this lady is going to come and take you far away. You have never met her, but she is my sister.
So you go with her, far far away. And wait for your mom.
Then can you imagine: living in third world Africa and then going to Europe? It's a big change, electricity, water, lights, cars, different clothes, different language and customs? Not to mention how goshdarn cold it is here this week (below freezing).
I can't imagine what this little boy went through/ goes through.
I also worry about the sister left behind.
I would love to write down his story from his point of view and include his original artwork and convince one of my illustrator friends to do artwork of his mom and him, and then try to publish it.
However I imagine these are painful things to talk about for Amadou, and I imagine even less that his mom would let him for fear of repercussions in the form of the French gov deporting her.
If I could get them to agree and find a publisher, I would take 30% (my cut for the work of publishing/writing/paying my friends' for their artwork). Of the 70% of profits left I would give half to Amadou's mom and put the other half in a trust for Amadou for when he is an adult.
In this Presidential election year, often the debate moves to illegals and their "drain" on the system. What kind of spoiled, ungrateful people are we then? Unaware of how good we have it, and unwilling to share?
Amadou did not ask for any of this. His mom just wants a better life.
So what do you think? Should I pursue writing "My Name is Amadou"?
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Welcome
Hello and welcome to my blog. It's mainly for my family and friends. Hopefully I will not bore you too much! I decided to create this blog as as result of my facebook defection. Perhaps that doesn't make any sense to you, why create a blog where I cannot control who sees what I write? Actually I can.
Anyways this is why facebook was ruined for me:
others' status updates like:
-What an awesome sandwich that was
-Oh man I am so wasted now (etc)
-I hate this person or that person.
my status updates going unanswered/uncommented
In fact I find facebook to be worse than highschool. I really did not like the petty aspect of highschool and facebook seems to encourage competition amongst the people.
Furthermore, if I follow ever little update of someone's life in real time, what happens to catching up? I find that facebook has ruined small talk.
Anyways, enough of me griping about facebook like an older person.
I will now proceed to treat the blog as one long facebook status update. ;)
Today I had my final exam for social movements. I think I did alright, but 2 hours was a bit short for an exam. I had an average of 14 going in to it, so hopefully I'll be able to pull another 14 on the test.
Afterwards I collected a book, The Ethical Slut back from my c-r-a-z-y ex gf. No, not the hot half Italian one, the one after. I was surprised when she returned it in tact with none of the pages missing. I should really give her some credit for that. Anyways, I like to keep my expectations low so people don't disappoint me.
Then I went shopping. I bought a very cool pocket watch on a necklace chain, so I will no longer set a bad example for my students by looking at my cellphone in class to see how much time is left.
Then I bought some eyeshadow.
I'm so excited for Soldes! I'm planning on buying a pair of tall boots- I've wanted a pair for so long. I further intend to buy a pair of skinny jeans to go with them. So that's a big deal. For those who don't know I lost at least 10 kilos or so in the last two years, and I haven't updated my wardrobe yet. This means I have a total of two pairs of pants, both donated (thanks Stacy!), that fit correctly. I have been too afraid that I will just get fat again to buy new clothes. Now I can no longer stand looking like a ragamuffin in the city of beautiful women. That and I finally have a little bit of money I can part with. Such beautiful women, I have no idea how they do it.
However I feel terrible that I am about to contribute my hard earned Euros to sweatshop produced goods. My mother always told me I vote with my dollars. So I would like to contribute positively to the global justice problem by spending my money appropriately. Now I do not know how concerned you feel with sweatshops, fair trade, or worker's rights, but I feel very concerned, and the social movement class has heightened my desire to contribute positively in the small ways any consumer can. If you have ever tried to look for made in 1st world country clothes, you're options are rather limited:
1. Earthy hippy style, actually made in Nepal. Tcha tcha on rue martin, I'm looking at you.
2. Haute couture, I will refrain from posting a pic due to fear of copyleft infringement.
3. Combing every boutique and looking at every tag ever for an indication of provenance.
4. Find actual made in France goods and pay 3 times what one normally would, at least, and be limited in choice. For example, denim is very hard to come by.
I usually do the third option and avoid Chinese produced goods. I am however truly sick of falling in love with certain pieces and then not being able to buy them because of where they were made. I'm not kvetching about having ideals, I'm kvetching about how hard it is to have ideals and follow them through.
So we will see how this goes. Soldes start next Wednesday so hopefully my folly won't be too bad.
PS - I was listening to awesome Miami Sound Machine music followed by Shakira music. Gotta love working on one's Spanish. And lord I love watching Shakira shake it.
New Ness
Anyways this is why facebook was ruined for me:
others' status updates like:
-What an awesome sandwich that was
-Oh man I am so wasted now (etc)
-I hate this person or that person.
my status updates going unanswered/uncommented
In fact I find facebook to be worse than highschool. I really did not like the petty aspect of highschool and facebook seems to encourage competition amongst the people.
Furthermore, if I follow ever little update of someone's life in real time, what happens to catching up? I find that facebook has ruined small talk.
Anyways, enough of me griping about facebook like an older person.
I will now proceed to treat the blog as one long facebook status update. ;)
Today I had my final exam for social movements. I think I did alright, but 2 hours was a bit short for an exam. I had an average of 14 going in to it, so hopefully I'll be able to pull another 14 on the test.
Afterwards I collected a book, The Ethical Slut back from my c-r-a-z-y ex gf. No, not the hot half Italian one, the one after. I was surprised when she returned it in tact with none of the pages missing. I should really give her some credit for that. Anyways, I like to keep my expectations low so people don't disappoint me.
Then I went shopping. I bought a very cool pocket watch on a necklace chain, so I will no longer set a bad example for my students by looking at my cellphone in class to see how much time is left.
Then I bought some eyeshadow.
I'm so excited for Soldes! I'm planning on buying a pair of tall boots- I've wanted a pair for so long. I further intend to buy a pair of skinny jeans to go with them. So that's a big deal. For those who don't know I lost at least 10 kilos or so in the last two years, and I haven't updated my wardrobe yet. This means I have a total of two pairs of pants, both donated (thanks Stacy!), that fit correctly. I have been too afraid that I will just get fat again to buy new clothes. Now I can no longer stand looking like a ragamuffin in the city of beautiful women. That and I finally have a little bit of money I can part with. Such beautiful women, I have no idea how they do it.
However I feel terrible that I am about to contribute my hard earned Euros to sweatshop produced goods. My mother always told me I vote with my dollars. So I would like to contribute positively to the global justice problem by spending my money appropriately. Now I do not know how concerned you feel with sweatshops, fair trade, or worker's rights, but I feel very concerned, and the social movement class has heightened my desire to contribute positively in the small ways any consumer can. If you have ever tried to look for made in 1st world country clothes, you're options are rather limited:
1. Earthy hippy style, actually made in Nepal. Tcha tcha on rue martin, I'm looking at you.
2. Haute couture, I will refrain from posting a pic due to fear of copyleft infringement.
3. Combing every boutique and looking at every tag ever for an indication of provenance.
4. Find actual made in France goods and pay 3 times what one normally would, at least, and be limited in choice. For example, denim is very hard to come by.
I usually do the third option and avoid Chinese produced goods. I am however truly sick of falling in love with certain pieces and then not being able to buy them because of where they were made. I'm not kvetching about having ideals, I'm kvetching about how hard it is to have ideals and follow them through.
So we will see how this goes. Soldes start next Wednesday so hopefully my folly won't be too bad.
PS - I was listening to awesome Miami Sound Machine music followed by Shakira music. Gotta love working on one's Spanish. And lord I love watching Shakira shake it.
New Ness
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