Bonjour, y'all!
I'm not sure if anybody's even still reading this (but I guess you are, if you're reading this ...kind of like the virtual tree falling in the SimsCity forest ...). Sorry I've been AWOL for a while - I've been insanely busy at work for reasons that are FAR to dull to go into.
That said, I'll go right into it. Part of the busy season included going to Atlanta to talk about fundraising (which is what I do at Institution Which Shall Remain Anonymous) at a meeting of French school heads (technically, they also had bodies). It was kind of weird to go to my "homeland" to go to a conference in French. Although I'm not from Atlanta per se, it is at the crossroads of where all the various branches of my family are and have been from for as long as anyone can remember: South Carolina (on Mom's side), Alabama (Dad's) and Jacksonville, where I grew up (for the most part).
Sadly, I did not get any grits, collard greens, BBQ or fried okra, which was my secret motive for agreeing to go to Atlanta. At first, I was hesitant about attending the conference, because it required me to face my greatest fear: snakes on a plane. Well, that and public speaking. I HATE public speaking. Being in public is hard enough. As is speaking. But both of them together? Horrifying. Strangely, it's easier to speak to a large group in French, I guess because it's not my first language --which, ironically enough, is Southern. And which I revert to as soon as I am physically even a foot below the Mason-Dixon line. This also happens after 1 a.m. or after two drinks, whichever comes first.
"Bonjour, y'all!" I wanted to say, to make it more democratic; so that nobody - French, Southern or otherwise - would have the foggiest ah-deea what I's tawkin' bout.
I did get bizarre job offers from other French schools. At least, I think they were job offers. Somehow, everything seems a bit seedier coming from a middle-aged French dude. Je vous propose 20 % plus de ce que vous touchez acutellement ...
In French, even a boring job offer sounds a bit like they're proposing something that might be illegal in Georgia.
BUT, on the upside, I have the week off this week! It's Spring Break #1 at the school where I work. Since it's a French school, they have two spring breaks (kind of like how the Hobbits have first breakfast and second breakfast ....). We also have a fall break, and a winter break, not to mention most of the Christian/Jewish/Muslim/Zoroastrian high holidays... The French really do know how to live. Go on vacation and eat some meat fried in butter and duck fat with a big slice of cheese and wash it down with red wine and espresso and a Gitanes - all while having sex. It's enough to let you overlook the whole Jerry Lewis thing. And all those films with "bourgeois" in the title, where everyone sits around and smokes and cries and takes off their shirts/pants for no apparent reason, and then it's over before you can even figure out what kind of existential tightrope they were tenuously balanced over.
There is nothing quite as nice, or as decadent, as the "at-home vacation." I think Travel and Leisure should do a segment on it - "Great Undiscovered Corners of Your Living Room," or "Bargain Adventures in the Backyard."
Today, I've done nothing. Well, next to nothing. I put a bunch of books on Amazon and Half.com. I woke up and realized that all of our bookshelves are overflowing, and part of it is my unfortunate addiction to books with some combination of "Light," "Quantum" and/or "Healing" in the title. I've decided to go on a Self-Help fast. If anyone's been helped after all these years, it's Random House. Following various mental health lapses, I've probably been single-handedly responsible for the quarterly surge in sales in the Personal Development division.
I was having quite a bit of angst lately, because I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. And then I realized - oh, fcuk, I AM grown up!!! Too late to be a wunderkind, except possibly at the 2039 Senior Olympics. This used to inspire me to head straight for the Self-Help aisle, but no more. I've finally just achieved a level of Zen through transcendental meditation (i.e., lowered my expectations).
There was a time when I would sit around and worry about my lack of "achievements" or "professional accomplishments" or "personal hygiene." But more recently it's occured to me that the many people I know who are hugely successful aren't that much happier than I am. In fact, most of them are downright miserable.
But they do have much better footwear, which is why I still envy them.
That said, I'll go right into it. Part of the busy season included going to Atlanta to talk about fundraising (which is what I do at Institution Which Shall Remain Anonymous) at a meeting of French school heads (technically, they also had bodies). It was kind of weird to go to my "homeland" to go to a conference in French. Although I'm not from Atlanta per se, it is at the crossroads of where all the various branches of my family are and have been from for as long as anyone can remember: South Carolina (on Mom's side), Alabama (Dad's) and Jacksonville, where I grew up (for the most part).
Sadly, I did not get any grits, collard greens, BBQ or fried okra, which was my secret motive for agreeing to go to Atlanta. At first, I was hesitant about attending the conference, because it required me to face my greatest fear: snakes on a plane. Well, that and public speaking. I HATE public speaking. Being in public is hard enough. As is speaking. But both of them together? Horrifying. Strangely, it's easier to speak to a large group in French, I guess because it's not my first language --which, ironically enough, is Southern. And which I revert to as soon as I am physically even a foot below the Mason-Dixon line. This also happens after 1 a.m. or after two drinks, whichever comes first.
"Bonjour, y'all!" I wanted to say, to make it more democratic; so that nobody - French, Southern or otherwise - would have the foggiest ah-deea what I's tawkin' bout.
I did get bizarre job offers from other French schools. At least, I think they were job offers. Somehow, everything seems a bit seedier coming from a middle-aged French dude. Je vous propose 20 % plus de ce que vous touchez acutellement ...
In French, even a boring job offer sounds a bit like they're proposing something that might be illegal in Georgia.
BUT, on the upside, I have the week off this week! It's Spring Break #1 at the school where I work. Since it's a French school, they have two spring breaks (kind of like how the Hobbits have first breakfast and second breakfast ....). We also have a fall break, and a winter break, not to mention most of the Christian/Jewish/Muslim/Zoroastrian high holidays... The French really do know how to live. Go on vacation and eat some meat fried in butter and duck fat with a big slice of cheese and wash it down with red wine and espresso and a Gitanes - all while having sex. It's enough to let you overlook the whole Jerry Lewis thing. And all those films with "bourgeois" in the title, where everyone sits around and smokes and cries and takes off their shirts/pants for no apparent reason, and then it's over before you can even figure out what kind of existential tightrope they were tenuously balanced over.
There is nothing quite as nice, or as decadent, as the "at-home vacation." I think Travel and Leisure should do a segment on it - "Great Undiscovered Corners of Your Living Room," or "Bargain Adventures in the Backyard."
Today, I've done nothing. Well, next to nothing. I put a bunch of books on Amazon and Half.com. I woke up and realized that all of our bookshelves are overflowing, and part of it is my unfortunate addiction to books with some combination of "Light," "Quantum" and/or "Healing" in the title. I've decided to go on a Self-Help fast. If anyone's been helped after all these years, it's Random House. Following various mental health lapses, I've probably been single-handedly responsible for the quarterly surge in sales in the Personal Development division.
I was having quite a bit of angst lately, because I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. And then I realized - oh, fcuk, I AM grown up!!! Too late to be a wunderkind, except possibly at the 2039 Senior Olympics. This used to inspire me to head straight for the Self-Help aisle, but no more. I've finally just achieved a level of Zen through transcendental meditation (i.e., lowered my expectations).
There was a time when I would sit around and worry about my lack of "achievements" or "professional accomplishments" or "personal hygiene." But more recently it's occured to me that the many people I know who are hugely successful aren't that much happier than I am. In fact, most of them are downright miserable.
But they do have much better footwear, which is why I still envy them.
posted by Marguerite at 5:14 PM
2 Comments:
Yes, the better footwear is definitely something to envy.
I hope that self-help fast is contagious!
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