Semi-drunken men of the world: Why do you all find it acceptable to ask out your bartender? Using the "semi-drunk" part of your label as an excuse does not work. It is more than that. Are women your own age really that terrible? Are you really that lonely? Do you really think that your completely sober bartender will take the time to give you her number while she's working? Has the line "This martini tastes as good as you look" ever worked on any female bartender (if so, please give me this woman's number as she needs to have some sense knocked into her)? Do you honestly believe that ANY woman wants to date a man who orders a pomegranate martini/cosmopolitan/wine spritzer/margarita?
And now to all men of the world, why do you think it is okay to continually ask a girl out? I feel there are a few things that should automatically end your quest for a date with a girl. Number one, if the girl in question tells you she has a boyfriend, you should give up immediately. I do not understand why you think that a girl who has a boyfriend will STILL go out with you, or at least randomly hook up with you. Do you think we are all cheating sluts? Honestly. Number two, if you know for certain that a girl is 10+ years younger than you, you should immediately move on and start working on someone your own age. Pedophilia never has been and never will be attractive. Number three, if a girl has turned you down once already. You may be desperate and unable to control your libido, but a girl is not going to turn you down one week and change her mind the next. Unlike you, a girl can wait longer than a week for sex and does not need the constant self-esteem boost of a relationship. Therefore, she will not simply surprise you by suddenly saying yes the second, third, or even fourth time you ask her out.
But then again, if you happen to be one of the rare attractive/talented/intelligent men that walk into my bar, then most of the above questioning does not apply to you and so yes, you can buy me a drink. Thanks.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Agape, Falling Short of.
If two years in that insulated snow globe taught me anything, it is appreciation. I cannot explain how much more deeply I savor life after that place. I enjoy the simple pleasure of being able to get any kind of food I want in minutes. I live for the times when I'm alone in my car listening to whatever music I feel like with the windows down. I love having a coffee alone just for the chance to sit down on the sidewalk with the sun in my face and people streaming by. I feel accomplished in a way I never did before when I now truly work at something and succeed at it (I've learned to be a kickass bartender this summer). I relish every moment I get to sit in my beautiful garden and write a few pages of whatever I feel like writing. I listen closely to the stories of others and fall in love with the connections we all share. I covet a stolen minute to read another page of a book I am reading for its intrinsic value rather than the grade I'll get on the essay about it. Life is magnified, detailed, enormous, and most importantly, just so alive.
I wonder if it is sad that I needed Norway to tell me all of these things. Or maybe it is not sad, only natural. Or maybe it is not natural but amazing and wonderful. I am not sure. I do know that I wholeheartedly believe that there was no where else I could have learned more about humanity than at that school. And universally loving humanity, agape, is the highest love of all, according to the most passionate romantics in history, the ancient Greeks. I do not know if anyone can truly universally love all of humanity, but beginning to understand a bit about all of it and what the word "humanity" even means must be a good start to loving all of it. To love, to appreciate, one must understand. I have begun to understand and for the first time, I can finally begin to truly, deeply appreciate.
On a side note, if you have not already, go read "Socrates in Love: Philosophy for a Passionate Heart", "Zorba the Greek", and "La Sombra del Viento". In any language, in any way, it doesn't matter. Just read them. Now.
"I endeavored to lead a different type of life, to interest myself in practical work, to know and love the human material which had fallen into my hands, to feel the long-wished-for joy of no longer having to deal with words but with living men."-Zorba
I wonder if it is sad that I needed Norway to tell me all of these things. Or maybe it is not sad, only natural. Or maybe it is not natural but amazing and wonderful. I am not sure. I do know that I wholeheartedly believe that there was no where else I could have learned more about humanity than at that school. And universally loving humanity, agape, is the highest love of all, according to the most passionate romantics in history, the ancient Greeks. I do not know if anyone can truly universally love all of humanity, but beginning to understand a bit about all of it and what the word "humanity" even means must be a good start to loving all of it. To love, to appreciate, one must understand. I have begun to understand and for the first time, I can finally begin to truly, deeply appreciate.
On a side note, if you have not already, go read "Socrates in Love: Philosophy for a Passionate Heart", "Zorba the Greek", and "La Sombra del Viento". In any language, in any way, it doesn't matter. Just read them. Now.
"I endeavored to lead a different type of life, to interest myself in practical work, to know and love the human material which had fallen into my hands, to feel the long-wished-for joy of no longer having to deal with words but with living men."-Zorba
Friday, July 18, 2008
A Breath
They always say that life doesn't stop for anyone, a fact that is certainly making itself apparent at the moment. But that's alright. I've found it's often good that most of us never get the chance to just curl up in a dark room somewhere and pretend like the world will be a better place when you finally leave again. If life stopped for anyone, ever, then how could you have a reason to get out of bed in the morning?
Life is a lot better when I stop defining happiness by numbers. If this summer has taught me anything, it is that shit happens. And that a whole lot of shit is likely to happen all at once. That is just the way it is. So whether it is money or time or family or a lack of a Parisian place to live or an intense and growing hatred of the French or interpersonal relationships, it doesn't matter. Because it is all shit that has to be sorted out and will be sorted out and there's no way around it. You pay what you have to, you do what you have to, you say what you have to because that is what life asks of you. And life doesn't ask these things of you politely, life demands these things. In return, you get to breathe for a couple more moments. And that's fine by me.
Life is a lot better when I stop defining happiness by numbers. If this summer has taught me anything, it is that shit happens. And that a whole lot of shit is likely to happen all at once. That is just the way it is. So whether it is money or time or family or a lack of a Parisian place to live or an intense and growing hatred of the French or interpersonal relationships, it doesn't matter. Because it is all shit that has to be sorted out and will be sorted out and there's no way around it. You pay what you have to, you do what you have to, you say what you have to because that is what life asks of you. And life doesn't ask these things of you politely, life demands these things. In return, you get to breathe for a couple more moments. And that's fine by me.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
The Restaurant
So what's it really like? Well, generally most of my co-workers are, shall we say, not in their natural state of mind due to any number of substances. Yes, that's right, the people that cook your food at your favorite restaurant are likely blazed while preparing your meal. Amazing, yes? Customers are generally alright and find my accent quite endearing. I had no idea I had anything other than an American accent, but apparently time overseas has given me a quote, "European flavor". Yes, that is what I was told today. Oh, thank you. Also, I was told that I was "quite delightful". That phrase made me want to put on an Irish accent and say "Well, thank you, lass! Here's a Keebler cookie!". For real. Delightful? Whatever. As long as you leave me a 20% tip or better, I'll say as many things that you think are "European" as you like. Restaurants are deceiving because as we learned today, even an upscale wine bar can absolutely, miserably fail their health inspection. And in case you had any doubts, everyone in the restaurant industry smokes. Everyone. That is all there is to it. And the cooks don't have a problem grabbing food with their fingers and the servers generally gossip behind everyone and anyone's back. Yes, we laugh at you when you order a well-done steak or a crappy wine. And yes, we do plenty of imitations of you back in the kitchen. So that is what working in my restaurant is like.
The lovely thing about working in a restaurant is that you can be whoever you want. You can tell customers about selective parts of your life, your co-workers only know the person that you are on the job...it is a great job for privacy, as strange as that sounds. You only have to let on what you want to. And you get plenty of time for private smoke breaks in back alleys and dark hours closing down the restaurant to do lots of thinking. Which is good, because things tend to seem simpler when I'm putting chairs on top of tables or leaned up against a brick wall behind the restaurant.
It gives me time to miss things, which I do. It gives me time to realize that not only do I miss the good things but that I miss the bad things as well. I miss that which was messed up, I miss those things that were difficult, I miss having to figure it all out. In many ways, I've moved on well, without the heartbreak that hits most people. But in some ways, I've realized I'm always going to be a bit stuck. I've realized that I left pieces of myself along the way, I've given pieces of myself to people and places and things and I can't go and get those pieces back now. I just have to learn how to live without them and learn how to live with the fact that generally what I've given doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. It was all familiar, the good and the bad. I knew the rules to those games. And now? Now I'm not so sure what the rules are.
But hey, I'm sure I'll figure it out over free Spanish tapas and wine at the restaurant. Eventually.
The lovely thing about working in a restaurant is that you can be whoever you want. You can tell customers about selective parts of your life, your co-workers only know the person that you are on the job...it is a great job for privacy, as strange as that sounds. You only have to let on what you want to. And you get plenty of time for private smoke breaks in back alleys and dark hours closing down the restaurant to do lots of thinking. Which is good, because things tend to seem simpler when I'm putting chairs on top of tables or leaned up against a brick wall behind the restaurant.
It gives me time to miss things, which I do. It gives me time to realize that not only do I miss the good things but that I miss the bad things as well. I miss that which was messed up, I miss those things that were difficult, I miss having to figure it all out. In many ways, I've moved on well, without the heartbreak that hits most people. But in some ways, I've realized I'm always going to be a bit stuck. I've realized that I left pieces of myself along the way, I've given pieces of myself to people and places and things and I can't go and get those pieces back now. I just have to learn how to live without them and learn how to live with the fact that generally what I've given doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. It was all familiar, the good and the bad. I knew the rules to those games. And now? Now I'm not so sure what the rules are.
But hey, I'm sure I'll figure it out over free Spanish tapas and wine at the restaurant. Eventually.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Reality?
I hate when things happen that make me feel much older than I wish to feel. Like paying bills. I do not want to have to pay bills. I am 19 years old. I should be worrying about where I'm going to pass out after some frat party like every other American 19 year old, not how I'm going to afford cell phone bills and rent and groceries. Are you serious?
It is hard. And frustrating. Hard because I'm forced to realize that I am growing up, and quite fast at that. Frustrating because I cannot possibly make thousands of dollars off of one summer working in the U.S.. I applied for a second job today at this crazy, over-priced baby's clothing store. Then I'll be working two jobs for the rest of the summer and I will still probably barely scrape by in Paris.
How does everyone else do it? There must be some way to make the amount of money that I need without losing my mind. I just haven't found it yet.
It is hard. And frustrating. Hard because I'm forced to realize that I am growing up, and quite fast at that. Frustrating because I cannot possibly make thousands of dollars off of one summer working in the U.S.. I applied for a second job today at this crazy, over-priced baby's clothing store. Then I'll be working two jobs for the rest of the summer and I will still probably barely scrape by in Paris.
How does everyone else do it? There must be some way to make the amount of money that I need without losing my mind. I just haven't found it yet.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Why I Love Home
1. Because alcohol is cheap and easy to get.
2. Because I have people that knew me before, knew me during, and know me after UWC.
3. Because my sister is out of control and more fun than ever.
4. Because illegal underage drinking is exciting.
5. Because everything is cheap.
6. Because I can hold my own and be respected in the Latino parts of town.
7. Because passing out on the floor with random people is entirely acceptable.
8. Because I get to sleep in all the time.
9. Because I don't have to see certain people on a daily basis.
10. Because it's hot and sunny.
11. Because I have beautiful summer clothes.
12. Because my parents treat me like a best friend and a daughter.
13. Because everyone is different but the same.
14. Because we have real Mexican food.
15. Because things make sense.
2. Because I have people that knew me before, knew me during, and know me after UWC.
3. Because my sister is out of control and more fun than ever.
4. Because illegal underage drinking is exciting.
5. Because everything is cheap.
6. Because I can hold my own and be respected in the Latino parts of town.
7. Because passing out on the floor with random people is entirely acceptable.
8. Because I get to sleep in all the time.
9. Because I don't have to see certain people on a daily basis.
10. Because it's hot and sunny.
11. Because I have beautiful summer clothes.
12. Because my parents treat me like a best friend and a daughter.
13. Because everyone is different but the same.
14. Because we have real Mexican food.
15. Because things make sense.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Secrets.
It's hard to believe it's only been two weeks since I graduated and left. So much has happened in two weeks. The entire world shook, crumbled, fell apart, and put itself back together in a whole new way in that two week time period. A little more than two weeks ago, I was drinking champagne and toasting to the year with Maria, Katherine, and Raine at the bench. Two weeks ago, I was sitting in Oslo, smoking a cigarette in the sun with Elisabeth and Raine. A week ago, I was being an embarrassing tourist with Marc in Copenhagen, laughing and happily stumbling back to a hotel. Hell, even six days ago I was riding on the back of a bike on small-town Dutch streets with Marc and his best friend.
Somehow, no matter how hard we try, we never really do manage to say everything to everyone that we hope we will. So here, in random order, are some of the secret things I've wanted to say to different people.
1. I am afraid that you will cut me off because you think you can self-preserve by not thinking of me because I can't be there. If you're not thinking of me, you can't miss me. Don't do that.
2. You hate wine. And emotions. Stop pretending. Be yourself more often, not just what you think you should be for other people or what you think looks good.
3. You inspire me. I wish you would have let me in more when we had the chance. I hope we make up for lost time at some point next year.
4. You scare the shit out of me. Which is maybe why you're the person I use most often as a motif for characters when I write.
5. You are arrogant and empty.
6. Learn to be self-sustaining, it's more dignified.
7. Don't be so hard on yourself, you'll die young of a brain aneurysm if you keep on like this. Relax and enjoy yourself, you're a good person to be just the way you are.
8. I never felt the way you did. I hated you for condemning me for it. I got over it.
9. I cannot decide if you are my opposite or if you are really just everything I wish I could be. Either way, you make me better.
10. You taught me so much about myself. You made me laugh, you made me cry. But I was always, always there, even when I tried not to be. I could never leave you.
Can you figure it out? Or at least, most importantly, do you know which one is yours?
Somehow, no matter how hard we try, we never really do manage to say everything to everyone that we hope we will. So here, in random order, are some of the secret things I've wanted to say to different people.
1. I am afraid that you will cut me off because you think you can self-preserve by not thinking of me because I can't be there. If you're not thinking of me, you can't miss me. Don't do that.
2. You hate wine. And emotions. Stop pretending. Be yourself more often, not just what you think you should be for other people or what you think looks good.
3. You inspire me. I wish you would have let me in more when we had the chance. I hope we make up for lost time at some point next year.
4. You scare the shit out of me. Which is maybe why you're the person I use most often as a motif for characters when I write.
5. You are arrogant and empty.
6. Learn to be self-sustaining, it's more dignified.
7. Don't be so hard on yourself, you'll die young of a brain aneurysm if you keep on like this. Relax and enjoy yourself, you're a good person to be just the way you are.
8. I never felt the way you did. I hated you for condemning me for it. I got over it.
9. I cannot decide if you are my opposite or if you are really just everything I wish I could be. Either way, you make me better.
10. You taught me so much about myself. You made me laugh, you made me cry. But I was always, always there, even when I tried not to be. I could never leave you.
Can you figure it out? Or at least, most importantly, do you know which one is yours?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)