Sparks, "Perfume". A song for non-girls like me.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Pas une vraie fille
My roommates keep telling me "tu n'est pas une vraie fille." It's actually usually more of a reflection/question, "tu n'est vraiment pas une vraie fille, Kamilla..." (Kamilla, you're not a real girl, are you?).
I get this kind of comment whenever I admit that I haven't washed my hair in a few days, or that I don't like Sex and the City. I think its pretty funny, because I think I'm very girly. I won't make any generalizations about French girls, I have no idea if my roommates are typical or not. They're pretty, kind of fashion-y girls, and to them, being a real girl involves spending SO MUCH time. Our bathroom is filled with devices, creams and goops whose purposes I have yet to figure out. Mysterious hours are passed with doors locked and machines running. And the outcome is obvious, they have gorgeous, perfect eyebrows and professional-looking manicured toes. Thinking about it is boring, all that stuff is so boring. Maybe because I already keep myself well occupied with boring pursuits: work, internet, I just can't imagine being bothered to care to that degree. I miss my grimy, sweaty dirty americans, I think I prefer slightly smelly people.
*don't really get how blogs are supposed to work, but I edited this post so that I would like it more*
I get this kind of comment whenever I admit that I haven't washed my hair in a few days, or that I don't like Sex and the City. I think its pretty funny, because I think I'm very girly. I won't make any generalizations about French girls, I have no idea if my roommates are typical or not. They're pretty, kind of fashion-y girls, and to them, being a real girl involves spending SO MUCH time. Our bathroom is filled with devices, creams and goops whose purposes I have yet to figure out. Mysterious hours are passed with doors locked and machines running. And the outcome is obvious, they have gorgeous, perfect eyebrows and professional-looking manicured toes. Thinking about it is boring, all that stuff is so boring. Maybe because I already keep myself well occupied with boring pursuits: work, internet, I just can't imagine being bothered to care to that degree. I miss my grimy, sweaty dirty americans, I think I prefer slightly smelly people.
*don't really get how blogs are supposed to work, but I edited this post so that I would like it more*
Some facts of life
I have been in France for one year, and still, every time I try to bake anything, it comes out pie-shaped. Which is not surprising because, for lack of baking sheets, I make cookies in pie tins.
In one year, I haven't managed/ bothered to go to my bank and change my address. The place I sub-letted last summer probably still gets my bank statements.
My french has gotten to the point that people don't always laugh when I use slang. "Je me casse" (I'm headed out) is most often not met with giggles, still don't dare say "c'est un truc de ouf!" (it's crazy/nuts/ outta control) Too French. But I do think that sometimes I sort of blow air out of my mouth in that huffy, scowly, bothered way that French people do.
That's all I can think of for now. I've been here for one year, and I'm starting to think of this as my life, not just a little aside that doesn't really count. Turned 24 and all of a sudden realized that I can do what I want, if ever I figure out what that might be. It may just end up that I bake more pie-shaped cookies, but if it is more interesting than that, maybe I'll write about it. For posterity and because I could always use a little more time to self-indulgently reflect on my incredibly fascinating life. Lord knows I don't spend enough time over-thinking everything.
In one year, I haven't managed/ bothered to go to my bank and change my address. The place I sub-letted last summer probably still gets my bank statements.
My french has gotten to the point that people don't always laugh when I use slang. "Je me casse" (I'm headed out) is most often not met with giggles, still don't dare say "c'est un truc de ouf!" (it's crazy/nuts/ outta control) Too French. But I do think that sometimes I sort of blow air out of my mouth in that huffy, scowly, bothered way that French people do.
That's all I can think of for now. I've been here for one year, and I'm starting to think of this as my life, not just a little aside that doesn't really count. Turned 24 and all of a sudden realized that I can do what I want, if ever I figure out what that might be. It may just end up that I bake more pie-shaped cookies, but if it is more interesting than that, maybe I'll write about it. For posterity and because I could always use a little more time to self-indulgently reflect on my incredibly fascinating life. Lord knows I don't spend enough time over-thinking everything.
Monday, June 14, 2010
well,
I might have a bit more to say, maybe I've gotten over thinking writing a blog is useless for the time being. It's summer in Paris, its chilly though. I'm trying to eat more vegetables and less pain au chocolat. I've been riding a few more vélib, getting a lot more bruises, shaving my armpits more frequently. This sort of deliciousness is a regular occurrence when it gets nice out in Paris, how could I not be cheery?
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