Oh darling.

If I could, I would eat cheese-less pizza every day, for every meal.

I like it that much.
Looking forward to Italy.

Thing I love vs. Thing I hate

Thing I love: Grocery Stores.
I love going to the store in France. The grocery stores are so well equipped. They don't just have a 'bread aisle' they have huge amazing bakeries in the back. And they don't just have a seafood section they have an entire fucking fish market. One of my favorite features of the French grocery store is the pudding section. Just a large portion of a grocery store devoted to pudding and mousse. I don't eat pudding, or fish, or cheese but I can still appreciate their presence. I must also clarify that I'm talking about the big grocery stores here, not just the little markets. But, I love the little markets too.

Thing I hate: Restaurants.
I hate them. I have such anxiety about eating at restaurants. I always feel like they're going to goop some mayonnaise on something, or crack an egg on something. I avoid restaurants at all costs. I must say though, this hate is probably very specific to me and my vegetarianism. I just do not get the joy from dining out like I do at home. I don't feel safe, and I rarely walk away satisfied.



I finally went yesterday and it blew my mind away for several reasons.

1. It is nearly impossible to find. Anna and I took a tram, and then a bus. After we got off the bus we walked for about twenty minutes on the side of a highway. Then we cut through a wooded field before we found it. It doesn't have an address. You just have to know where it is and, spot it when you get close.

2. This place is comprised of two metal shacks. One has clothes,books, records, collectibles, and vintage bookcases. The other shack has only furniture...couches and love seats. Then there is a huge outdoor section with just glass. I don't know how I can explain it. There are about 20 tables sitting in the middle of a parking lot covered in plates, cups, wine glasses, pitchers, ash trays etc...

3. The quality of stuff I found was amazing and everything was cheap as hell.

-Recording of 'les enfants terribles' on vinyl.
-The french equivalent to 'the boxcar children' book series. But better...?
-Vintage manual on making your own television.
-Black riding boots.
-Vintage maps.
-Collection of pale blue aperitif glasses in perfect condition.
-Jar of vintage buttons.

The list goes on. But I didn't get anything. I wasn't in the mood to carry all of the stuff two hours home. Now that I know what I'm in for, I'll go back wearing more comfortable shoes next week.

It was the stuff dreams are made of. Truly.



Danielle is packing her bags.
We are going to tear shit up.

That's it.

That is it.
I need a goddamn bicycle.

I'm just wondering. Why is 18 such a popular age for teens to have children? You always year about the 18 year old girl who had a baby You know "my mom had me when she was 18..." But what about the 17 or 16 year old girl. It is always 18 year olds. You never hear "my mom had me when she was 16..." This isn't meant to be an insensitive question. Just wondering.

The reason I was wondering is because sometimes I read personal ads when I'm feeling a little homesick. Well, I read personal ads when I'm at home too. But I like reading the ads women place for men, not men for women. I don't know why. I just like it. I enjoy how people try to describe themselves. Just trying to fit it all in.

But I also should say that I have never wanted to post an ad for myself. I think I am opposed to the idea. I say "I think" because, after all, I do read them. So, I guess it would be hypocritical for me question their legitimacy or emotional value. One time Ryann and I stayed up all night reading personal ads.

Anyway, back to the point. I just read an ad posted by a girl that was so bizarre. It was hilarious in theory. If this ad were in a film, it would get a good laugh. But it wasn' a film, this is real fucking life. So, here is how the girls ad went. It opened with "I'm tired of getting hurt." Wow. Second sentence "This picture of me is two years old, that is my son." Alright. I'm all for honesty, you know with the kid and everything. But I think that was just going a little far. And her headline was "I'm tired of getting hurt." Really?!?!?! I just don't get it. I can't be certain, but I don't think her profile is getting much action.

Well, that is what got me on the whole teen pregnancy thing. She was 21 with a 3 year old. I don't know.

I am 98% sure I have adult onset ADHD. I need to channel this behavior in to studying.

I was just thinking, after years of reading personal ads, I wonder if I could be a consultant.

My room smells like garbage, but my garbage can is empty.

This guy down the hall thinks we're friends, but we're not. I keep having dreams that people are coming in to my room at night. But I wonder if maybe it is just him, picking the lock. This guy is pretty strange.


I didn't go to Emmaus today.

But I did go to the post and pick up my package.
It was the best package I have ever received.
I am now sick from eating peanut butter sandwiches I made using power bars instead of bread.

When I was in Prague.

"Becherovka is a herbal bitters made in Karlovy Vary (formerly Karlsbad) in the Czech Republic, flavored with aniseed, cinnamon, and approximately 32 other herbs. Its first commercial production was in 1807..."

It is the most amazing thing I have ever tasted.



Tomorrow I will go to Emmaus. The store that is quite possibly a million miles away, and continues to haunt my dreams.

I also get to pick up my package at the post tomorrow, 9am sharp. They give you appointments to pick up your packages here. I thought it was bullshit, and tried to go today but the woman said nope. My mom sent a package to me for my birthday/valentines day. She told me to throw away the peanut butter she included because of all of the salmonella outbreaks. Yeah right. As if I'm going to throw away an entire jar of peanut butter.

That makes me think about dumpster diving. Like, If I saw an unopened jar of peanut butter sticking out of a dumpster, I would be all over it. When I was in Paris over new years I walked past a dumpster literally overflowing with soy yogur...cartons of it, not like glooping all over the place. But I couldn't take any because it was the middle of the day! And, all of the yogurt I saw was prune flavored. I bet if I had a chance to roll my sleeves up and dig, I'd be able to find some blueberry. But that kind of activity is reserved for when it gets dark, I'm not a very gutsy scavenger.

I've attempted dumpster diving a couple of times in Nantes, but a lot of the garbage cans are kept inside, or locked behind gates. I also have a hard time convincing people to do it with me. They don't get it, you know, everyone thinks it's gross. I also know from experience that it isn't smart to go dumpster diving by yourself. So, I haven't done it. Maybe I will start soon. Who knows. I want some garbage treasure.


Guess what?

I found my passport.
It was in my backpack the entire time.
y y y yeah.


Thing I love vs. Thing I hate

Thing I love: The Kinder Bueno.

There are no words.

Thing I hate: .......
I can't write about anything I hate right now because I'm still thinking about Buenos. Seriously. Damn. They are so good.

Don't mind me.

The other night I was watching the news when a segment about David LaChapelle came on. They were doing a profile on his new show in Paris, and interviewing him. Everything was in English, and dubbed over in French. Just before the dubbing started I heard LaChapelle say:

"I'm just like Michelangelo..."



I've been having honey with my coffee.


Thing I love vs. Thing I hate

Thing I love: Protests.
So, most people hate them. I love them. There is nothing better than when people here get all hot and bothered and picket. It happens quite often. In fact, we are just entering "protest season" here in Nantes. I'm not sure if it is all over France, but I have been informed that March is a heavy protest time. Last month I went to a protest downtown (by accident actually) that involved 20,000 people. It was like a fucking parade. And, it wasn't violent at all.

Thing I hate: Protests.
Yes, it's contradictory. Let me be specific. I hate it when the train workers protest. They always do it on a Friday so your weekend travel plans are screwed. I'm sorry, but it's not my fault. It's just not my fault.


I suspected it for a long time but was only recently informed that the phrase is more widely known as "une petite mort" or "la petite mort". Yes, my heart sunk a little. I take comfort in two things:

1. It is just a gender preposition, the idea is the same.
2. Doesn't mean I'm wrong.

But shit. I knew I should have gone with the feminine preposition.

And just for the sake it it. I love this photo.

'Before the Fall' by Alejandra Laviada.


I recently cut a lot of my hair off. I did it because my hair was seriously damaged and looked terrible. The thing is, I did it myself with a bottle of wine and a mirror (my friend Anna did little pieces in the back). I am scared of two places in France. Restaurants and Hair salons. Two places where a slight miss communication can lead to some serious trouble.

I go in and out of hating it. I decided right after I was done that I looked like Faye Dunaway when she was in 'Bonnie and Clyde'. But I realized today that it is actually a little more Curt Cobain.


This is where I live.

Thing I love vs. Thing I hate

Thing I love: Gainsbourg and Birkin.

I was talking to a guy about two weeks ago. We were having one of those first conversations everyone has. He asked me what kind of music I listen to.I think this question is fucked, and here's why:

1. It is a bullshit way to get a first impression of someone (i.e. I have met plenty of nice people who like Michael Buble, Red Hot Chili Peppers or reggaeton)
2. I don't know what kind of music I listen to.

I do however appreciate the fact that this question is universal. No matter what city or country you're in, at any given moment you might have to pull some indie band that no one knows, or some folk artist from the 60s out of you ass to seem cool (how about the time I was at a bar in Prague and they had Ys by Joanna Newsome on repeat. I was like "whaaaaa?").

Anyway, I told him that I don't have a favorite type of music. Just favorite artists. I said that I prefer Serge Gainsbourg especially his work with Jane Birkin (Antoine Dvorak is my real answer, but this guy wouldn't have known...). And I apologized for the cliche nature of my response. He assured me that my answer was not cliche, because Gainsbourg and Birkin are timeless classics. He said that everyone he has met, no matter age or generation, loves them.

To that I say: Good job France.

(p.s. Have you seen those pictures of Lou Doillon on french Playboy? I don't know what to say. They are so cool. She is so cool.)

Thing I hate: Jambon.

This hate is very specific because I do not eat meat. But even if I did, I would stay the fuck away from ham. Look at that. It is disgusting. And it is in everything. I almost ate ham bread by accident once. Nothing is off limits. I bet just by breathing the air in France I have inadvertently eaten like 10 hams. They put eggs in everything too. The most bizarre is when they crack an egg on top of a pizza. Ryann was actually the first person to call my attention to this. It looks gross. There are also hard boiled eggs everywhere. But I don't hate eggs like I hate ham.

Vegetarianism is a joke to this country. If I weren't 16 years deep might ditch it.

Thing I love vs. Thing I hate

Thing I love: Silence.
I speak french. With every day I feel like I get better and better. But I'm still not quite there, you know? I feel like there is still that delay sometimes where I translate, and respond. This makes me self conscious about speaking, and it makes me choose my words very carefully. Sometimes I can go an entire day without saying anything.

Thing I hate: French comedy.
I'm sorry, I just don't think it's funny. I've tried, but it seems too vintage, too slapstick. Over acted.


It is Sunday. In France nothing is open. Nothing. My second day in this country was a Sunday. I was in Paris and it scared the shit out of me. I was walking through Point Neuf and it was dead. I thought it was a holiday, truly, I did.

A friend of mine explained to me the concept of Sundays in France. These are his exact words, as close as I can remember:

"Sunday is the day after Saturday night. After all of the partying. Basically on Sunday all the boys go and get pastries, and bring them
to their girlfriends in bed. That is just what Sundays are all about..."

And no one goes to church? Hmm.

After he bestowed that bit of wisdom on me, he proceeded to call some sort of liquor delivery service. We attempted to have whiskey and peanuts delivered to my friend Anna's dorm room at 3 in the morning. Too bad we were 15 minutes late and the place was closed. We settled for drinking alcohol mixer straight out of the bottle. It was like concentrated tropical juice with monarch vodka mixed in. Are you getting the right mental picture? You're supposed to mix it with water and juice. That shit was like 25% alcohol and thick as syrup.

The next day was Sunday.

This is bullshit.

I have been living in France since September, and I realized last night that I have very little to show for my time here. I have accumulated some maps, a better understanding of of the french "R" (let me tell you, she's real bitch to pronounce) and I bought one of those cardigans everyone is wearing. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel like I have very little permanent evidence of my time here. So, I'm going to write more down. I already have this blog, so it should be easy. The hard part will be making up for lost time.

One of my favorite games to play with myself is "what I love vs. what I hate"
It is easy, I just pick things I love about living in France, and I pick things I hate (this game does not need to be restricted to living in France, it works for things like going to college, taking the bus, getting drunk etc...)

Thing I love: Getting Cat Called.
Say what you want. Yes, it's rude, slightly invasive, and sexist. But, if man thinks your attractive enough to pry that cigarette he loves so much away from his lips for ten seconds I consider that important. When they stop, that is when I'll start to worry.

Thing I hate: Lunch Time.
FYI, between 11:30 and 1:30 it is lunch time. This is serious. Don't you dare try and pay a bill, run an errand, or break your arm and have to go to the hospital. Because, seriously, it's lunch time. Lunch time don't stop for nobody.