nuances

My bedroom in my parents’ house is set up like Carrie’s apartment in Sex and the City, except smaller. And without the living area and the kitchen. When I was a kid, sometimes I’d imagine that along the walk from my bed to the bathroom some scary monsters or ghosts would stop me in the hallway, pushing and taunting me. I guess I have a bizarre imagination, but when I was kid it would definitely get the best of me. And it would take me forever to get out of bed some mornings.

That’s how I’ve been feeling this week. The path between my bed and the rest of the world seems a bit sketchy. I feel as if I can’t be bothered with the back-and-forth of everything. Whatever, it’s funky. That’s it.

So I’m at the shop on a regular basis now. In the company of men, apparently. It’s relatable to the movie Anchorman, just change the scenery from being a newsroom to a skate shop. A French skate shop. In Nice. Anyway, in all the years I’ve worked with all-male staffs, I could capitalize on my experiences and write a book on the subject. Don’t worry, I won’t. At least, not yet.

In the meantime, Mack and I are taking advantage of the desk on the second floor of 4 Wheels. It's a very nice location, actually. I'm surrounded by cool clothing and get to watch people shop all day. It's vicarious: my shopping tendacies are relieved through strangers' spending. Very cool.

4 Wheels: another one of my makeshift offices (mack's my stand-in), originally uploaded by mjane.

my view of the floor, originally uploaded by mjane.

. . .
The apartment is coming along. We’re so close to being wired it’s painful. As I’ve mentioned many times since I’ve moved here, France loves paper –including the waste and shuffle of it – with the intention of calling it “work*.” In this case, Mackenzie has spent 3 weeks so far in helping us get a dial tone from France Telecom. And we’re crossing our fingers that one of their technicians will come as scheduled next Monday between 11 and 1 to help us achieve this.

In the meantime, I notice that I’m making a true effort of letting things go as soon as they happen. It beats being upset. And I’m enjoying myself a lot more. During the summer I seemed to have misplaced the pleasure, the humor of what it is I’m doing out here, making it hard to maintain my livelihood in this still very foreign place I’m living in. But coming out of that now, and knowing what I want, things are mostly funny again.

Don’t get me wrong though, it’s a full-time job (that requires 100% attention) keeping myself positive, motivated and inspired, even when my next-door neighbor complained to Mackenzie this morning that I make too much noise when I wear heels. I’m reminded that it is one of the rules authorized by property management (which was last updated at least 15 years ago): women aren’t to wear high heels while walking in the building. That includes while I’m in my apartment. Damn, it’s like the Pharisees hating on Mary Magdalene. Oh well, no more walking around my apartment in just a bath towel and heels while getting ready…or cooking…which is very therapeutic, by the way. I’ll make the peace, although I observe the rule to be a symbol of repression (for lack of a better word).

*The French work 35-hours/week (and most offices close for lunch… usually 2 hours)