Wednesday, 9 November 2005

Lesson Learned

Two experiences today: one brief, the other extended.

One: Walking to the post office, I overtook a woman, her daughter, and the woman's dog. The dog was a cute little Jack Russell, who despite his diminutive size was keeping pace with the woman. The latter, dressed in furs and high heels, was nonetheless walking at quite a clip. Even I, a fast walker, didn't pass by nearly as fast as I normally would.

In fact, my opportunity only came when the woman stopped. The dog's lead wrapped around the woman's daughter, she scolded her child. This little girl, probably no older than seven (though I'm a bad judge of age) had been struggling for some distance to keep up with her mother. The task was made no easier by her school backpack.

Please, let that never be me, I thought as I passed by. Obviously, this woman has some screwed up priorities. Maybe they were late, I don't know. But somehow I came away with the impression that her daughter was a burden, and why couldn't she be more like my obedient dog, anyway?

Who's in so much of a rush that they they don't keep a child's pace, and yet can stop to scold her? It's so easy to think of the woman as having a typically French attitude, the way they value their dogs. But just as I'm sure not all French people are like her, I'm pretty certain that there are many more like her around the world.

Flash to this evening, our latest pre-Cana course. Tonight's topic was children, and raising them with Catholic beliefs (hardly a surprise, considering this is an official church course). I'm not very religious, but I have really enjoyed this course - tonight's class the most of all.

It's great to have a chance to gather with other to-be-married couples, to get a chance to listen and learn from a pair of experienced couples (21 and 24 years of marriage, or thereabouts). I also really like Father Ephrim, who has some excellent anecdotes.

The short experience is the long explanation, and vice-versa. And I'm pretty confident that I won't be like that woman with her dog and child. As long as I can enjoy a class like tonight's, there's always hope. Maybe I'll even do as well as my parents did with me.

Thursday, 3 November 2005

Oh Bathroom, You Ought to Be in Pictures

My apartment's bathroom is rather, er, unique. Cramped to the extreme, the shower is immediately in front of the toilet, which crouches next to the sink. There's only just enough room to sidle between standing in front of the sink to standing in front of the toilet, and then spin around in that place.

Did I mention the deep-brown sink bowl, or the Margaritaville motif on the tiling? No? Well, then you must have heard about the Astroturf on the bathroom floor. Really. I have witnesses.

This room hardly sounds like a candidate for movie stardom, and yet there it is.

Tuesday, 1 November 2005

Boo!

Yesterday was Halloween - which in France (lacking the history that led to the holiday in the U.S.) is a commercially driven holiday, much like Valentine's Day. But the bonus here is, November first is a holiday (All Saints). Great if you go to a Halloween party, since the next day is guaranteed to be a (recovery) day off.

I ended up not going to any parties this year, but I did see kids of all ages dressed in costumes on my way to see Corpse Bride. There was a small group of very cute kids, the oldest being no more than five or six, going door-to-door on Montorgueil, a market street near my apartment. (Heather is right, French spoken by little kids can be adorable.) As young as they were, they obviously had the same priorities of any American kid, noisily planning how to maximize their butin.

Halloween is my favorite celebration (my favorite holiday being Thanksgiving). Children get to rule the world, if only for a day. And adults get to become someone (or something) else, playing what-if and briefly escaping their normal lives.

America can certainly be considered immature but to me, Halloween represents the best of what Americans can offer the world: youthful playfulness, and the hope (and desire) to be anything you wish. I'm looking forward to being able to share the day with kids of my own.

Snygging

My friend Jenny came down from Stockholm with her friend Therese for a weekend getaway, sort of an extended girl's night out. It was great to see her and catch up; it's been three years since we last saw each other in person. Also, I found out that both of them are regular readers of my blog - which almost doubles my last readership count. Heh.

Jenny and I worked together at Icon Medialab; Therese is a friend of hers who I met when I went to Stockholm for Midsommar in 2002. Midsommar, being the longest day of the year, is especially interesting when the darkest hour is around three in the morning but doesn't get much darker than twilight.

Wow, three years ago. You can imagine we had a lot to talk about. Jenny and her boyfriend Jon have an extremely cute little boy, Nils, now a year old. No photos of Nils, but I have one of us three at Fajitas, a Tex-Mex place, and another one of Therese and Jenny finishing their Tequila Slammers.

Good times, even before the tequila.

(Snygging - besides being one of the three words I know in Swedish - means "cute." In light of the photo of the three of us and mention of Nils, it's about the closest to a theme as this entry has.)

Thursday, 27 October 2005

I Heart My Hearth

It seems like a lot of landmarks and major events this year have taken place on the 14th of a month. I proposed to Heather on 14 August. That marked the anniversary of when we met (and almost exactly six months after our Valentine's Day weekend in Florence). There was 14 October, when I applied for French citizenship.

So you can imagine that it came as sort of a surprise that yesterday should be such a pivotal day.

Wednesday, 19 October 2005

One Giant Leap

This morning, I received a return receipt for an envelope full of papers that I sent last Friday. This little, pink slip of paper is a sort of recognition that I finally took the big step.

Last Friday, 14 October 2005, I applied for French nationality.

More Phone Fun

Note to self: Don't buy from The Phone House again (previously: Phone Fun and Phone Fun, Part II). Two weeks waiting for my phone that I ordered online, one week of which was because they misplaced my faxed copy of my ID card and I had to fax it again. Which they required in order to ship my order, despite having happily taken my money the same day that I ordered the phone.

So, let's get that straight: You already took someone's money (mine), but it's ostensibly for their protection (mine) that you require my ID card after the fact? Um, good logic.

Oh, and another note to self: Don't order things on the Internet in France until they join the rest of us in the 21st century. Otherwise, you'll end up spending more time on the phone than if you'd just ordered by phone originally.

Only in France would it be harder to use the Internet than to phone in my order. Oh, that's right: it costs 15 (euro) cents a minute to make phone calls. Gotta milk that for what you can.

At least I finally got my phone last Thursday. It's really, really nice. More on that in some other entry, some other time.

Ommm

I've long been a fan of Friskis & Svettis, a Swedish aerobics class, since my friend Jenny introduced me to it. Say what you will, but it's fun and gets me off my ass from in front of my computer. My other experiences with gyms in Paris weren't great, with classes and the machines being full of preening men and women who were mostly there to check out and be checked out.

After four years, I've started volunteering; it's a not-for-profit organization, and so all its operations are run by volunteers. The group rents from a private gym, so they need people to run the program itself. I take care of membership fees and checking people's passes on Tuesday nights.

All this to say, it feels comfortably familiar. Years ago, I worked for a chain of software and game stores. It's pretty much the same now: I give people information, sell them something if they want, and chat. It's easy, though sometimes hectic.

Which is why I was very pleasantly surprised when the gym employee who runs the front desk complimented me the other week. "You know," she said. "You are really quite Zen." Wow, that's nice. I certainly don't feel Zen most of the time - she's obviously never seen me at my real job. But it's still nice to hear, since it goes to show the good state of mind that Friskis puts me in.

On the other hand, she also thinks that I look much younger than my real, 35-almost-36 age. So maybe I should take her comments with a grain of salt...

Monday, 17 October 2005

Tea Time

Ever since lugging back a giant container of pre-sweetened iced tea mix, I've rediscovered the joys of iced tea. Now the weather turns colder, and I'm fixing myself hot tea using an electric kettle I brought to the office.

Hot tea is good. Drink lots of hot tea.

This message brought to you by fluctuating temperatures and an oncoming head cold. Additional funding provided by the icky, phlegmy feeling in the back of my throat.

Thursday, 6 October 2005

Inching Closer to the Aisle

A couple of interesting tidbits in Heather's and my progress towards our wedding.

First, last night: Heather and I went to the first of several weekly pre-marriage sessions at her church. It's an opportunity to learn from the experiences of two experienced couples and the advice of the priest (who, don't forget, has surely counseled plenty of married couples).

It was a nice experience, and it'll be interesting to see what the next weeks' sessions will bring. I'm far from being Catholic, but it's important to Heather to go - and it's important to me that we go together. I think we'll get some useful insights out of this; hopefully they'll be helpful down the line as a couple.

Second, today: I went to the doctor for what turned out to be a very fast checkup. He was happy with my lab results from my last visit (doctors have their own private offices here, so anything more involved than blood pressure is done in a lab and sent back to them). That was two years ago, but the results were borderline "great" (especially my cholesterol levels), so he didn't see a need this time. I'm not sure if that's the best response, but I would've requested tests if I'd really felt the need myself.

Anyway, what prompted me to go was that I needed a doctor for my prenuptial medical exam - and the resulting certificate - in order to start the ball rolling at the mayor's office. Everything official in France requires paperwork, so it was great to get my mine signed so easily.

Heather had a bit more to do, since recent bloodwork is considered more important for women (all the fun things that might interfere with a pregnancy). Since my doctor felt my previous tests were enough, I only need to find out my blood type. Which I knew back in junior high biology by an in-class self-test, but have lost in the mists of time. So, it's off to the lab tomorrow and then to the mairie next week.

Tuesday, 4 October 2005

Gathering Moss

In this morning's mail I received my latest quittance de loyer, for the month of October. It looked just like all the others before it, except this one was special. This one is number sixty-one.

I've now lived in this apartment for five years. I arrived in Paris in July 2000, but I didn't find a place to live until September. I've been living here ever since.

This marks the longest that I've lived in one place in my life, save for the twelve-plus years with my parents in Rochester. It's a weird feeling, especially since I never planned on staying in this place for so long - certainly not longer than my favorite apartment that I've ever had, which I lived in for three years.

I guess it's fitting that my next place will be with Heather. That, on the other hand, is a situation that I look forward to making permanent.

Friday, 30 September 2005

London Town

I apparently have bloggerrhea, so I'll share with you Heather's and my weekend from a couple of weeks ago. (Strike that - I guess it was the weekend of the tenth. Man, time flies.) Heather's friend Billie from Chicago was in London on the first leg of a European trip. So we decided to take a mini break (look at me, speaking perfect English) and visit her and a few friends who live in the city.

This is one of the coolest things about having a high-speed train link: Hop the train in one city center, arrive in the other. No muss, no taxis, no airport shuffle. You do have to arrive at least a half an hour before departure, but since the Paris station is three metro stops from my apartment, this isn't a real hassle.

We had a great time visiting my friends Simon and Kristen for an extended lunch. I know them from my brief time at an apartment complex, during the eight months or so before I moved to Paris. He's English, she's Minnesotan, and they were my downstairs neighbors. They moved to London some three years ago, so we're neighbors of sorts once again.

They've apparently been on a museum kick, visiting several on different weekends. We were having such a good time that Heather and I joined them to see the Wallace Collection. Free admission! The English definitely get it.

Wednesday, 28 September 2005

Une vie à deux

Heather and I spent this last weekend looking forward - "forward" as in anticipation, ahead, towards what the future holds for us. We've decided that we'll get married in Paris, since France has been such a large part of our lives - not the least in that we met here. We're also working to make it a bit more of a permanent part of our lives, too.

So on Saturday, we crashed a wedding. Well, "crashed" is maybe not the right word for it because it turns out that all French civil ceremonies are open to the public. But we didn't know this when we woke up early and got dressed in our spiffies. We also didn't know that when the security guard asked us if we were there for the 11:30 or 12:00 wedding and we replied, "umm, 11:30?"

After killing a bit of time in the neighborhood, we returned. I approached the nice assistant (to the officiating vice mayor), who personally showed us the salle de mariage before the next ceremony started.

It was a beautiful room, restored to its 18th century state and full of dark wood, velvet, and ornate decorations. The three large hanging paintings made it seem more like a museum room than a public office. After a few minutes, the assistant escorted us to the registration clerk for our paperwork. The clerk was helpful and had a slightly wacky sense of humor, which made the process seem that much less dry and... officious.

Monday, 26 September 2005

Once Upon a Time

Great news from my side of the pond: I'm engaged.

I proposed to Heather exactly six weeks ago yesterday, and she accepted. Also six weeks ago.

Now for those of you who complain about how long I take to tell a story, that's the short version. For the rest of you, the full story follows the jump.

Sunday, 31 July 2005

Nose to the Grindstone

This weekend saw me at the office, working on a client site. I spent most of yesterday removing large swaths of code to change the way it worked. The client's request for changes makes the site much simpler to code, but not necessarily more elegant. Still, it's a production job (not conceptual work), so they're the ones in the driver's seat.

Pulling out method after object after Flash element made me almost wistful. Maybe that's not so odd, since what I removed represents a lot of time invested in answering their original requests last winter, and further refinements this spring. It was crafted well enough that I could quickly code around the old behavior, confirm it worked, and remove the vestiges.

In other Matchbox news, we're busy in August. Not really a big deal, but it's normally a vacation month in France. The trick is, our client (a different one than above) is in Switzerland and the project's due at the start of September.

So we hired a freelancer, who starts tomorrow. This is pretty cool for me. She's not our first freelance hire, but she's long-term (the whole month) and she'll be more or less dedicated to this one project. And should all work out as I hope, she'll save my sanity.

We need - I need - all the help I can get with the creative side of Flash. The small amount of creativity that climbs out of my brain gets hit several times with the ugly stick on its way to the screen. In almost precisely one month, we'll hopefully have the results of merging my programming mojo with her animation skillz.

Stay on the lookout for green-skinned monsters with bolts on their necks...

Wednesday, 8 June 2005

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Tomorrow morning (early - I really should be in bed right now) I leave for a weekend trip to the U.S. for my friend Anton's wedding. I'm feeling more than a little nonplussed about the travel portion, but I'm really looking forward to the time - short as it will be - to spend with friends.

The last time I flew back, for the holidays, I had a great experience on my return flight. At check-in, I was happy to find that I could get seats behind the frontmost bulkhead in cattle class. Then, I got business class on my Minneapolis to Detroit flight. Score!

While waiting for my connection to Paris, I heard my name among a few called to the counter. Oh no, I thought. There had been a line of people even before I'd arrived - two hours earlier. Surely this was an overbooked flight.

Fortunately, it was. "Fortunately" for me, that is: upon arriving at the desk, I was handed a paper ticket. I thought it was just a reassignment, or something more "official" than my e-ticket. But no; apparently because I had the silver frequent flyer class (the lowest possible), I was bumped up to business class for the Paris flight.

Mmm. Motorized reclining chairs. Half-decent food. Leg room. More leg room. That was the first time I'd ever flown anything but economy class on a transatlantic flight.

All this to say, I really hope that I get bumped up to business class this weekend.

Monday, 30 May 2005

Small Satisfactions

This weekend went fast - too fast, but I at least got plenty of things done.

My friend Celia is moving out of town, but she's still waiting for things to be finalized. Unfortunately, she gave notice on her apartment three months ago when things seemed to be almost final. So, I'm loaning her my place until she can get that squared away.

Saturday was spent getting my place ready for Celia. It was a good reason to go through some things and get rid of them. It also reminded me of how much more thorough I am when I clean for guests, and not just for myself.

Heather - a recent beneficiary of several pieces of Celia's furniture - and I worked on her place for most of Sunday. We found good spots for everything, and moved around a lot of books, music, movies, and clothes. "It's like I'm finally moved in," she said. "Four years after I got the place!"

Not really a remarkable weekend, but rewarding. Sort of like another one about a month ago.

Wednesday, 18 May 2005

Prude? Or Just Prudent?

This bright and sunny morning, as I do each week, I stopped by my corner Monoprix to pick up a small supply of apples and water for the office. The cashier rang me up and moved on to the next client.

"The next client" was a young guy, dressed for the office but not too much so. He'd seemed in a hurry, and a little annoyed when there was a delay for my receipt. Normal enough, I figured - either he's in a rush, or he's just acting like the usual Parisian in line who doesn't get things his way, right away.

So, I bag my pair of groceries while he gets rung up. Until that point, his hands had been gently covering his one, solitary item. So I looked down at it.

A box of condoms.

Not annoyed - nervous. Or in a rush. At 10:00 in the morning. On a weekday.

Busy guy.

Tuesday, 17 May 2005

Getting Away From It All

This past weekend, Heather and I joined our friends Oren and Maria at their vacation home in Normandy. It wasn't for any particular reason, just to get away from the routine.

I seem to remember hearing the English use the term "mini break" for the weekend. I like that. It's exactly what we had: a mini break from the routine, from Paris. Which - for all its amazing qualities - does tend to wear you down when you live and work in it daily.

We didn't even have a full weekend away, Heather and I, arriving on Saturday evening and returning to Paris some 24 hours later.

The weather certainly wasn't remarkable: mostly cloudy and scattered rain. "Rain is part of the charm of Normandy," as one person told me. Well, the charm was fortunately broken by beautiful, sunny weather for a good part of Sunday. But you know what? I'd have been fine even if it hadn't been.

There's something about "not particularly special" that made the weekend all the more special. Thanks, Oren and Maria.

Wednesday, 11 May 2005

For the Want of a Nail...

For lack of the right marks on certain things, my best-laid plans will be delayed by what I figure to be another month. It wouldn't have been more than a hiccup had I found this out in October, when I first had the things.

Note to self: When something's important to you, don't let seven months pass before you get off your ass to do it.

Friday, 6 May 2005

Old-Man Story Tellin' Time

So about two weeks ago, I read the news that GameStop and Electronics Boutique were merging. Specifically, that GameStop was buying EB. There can be only one, and all that.

Now, for a lot of people, this is meaningless or trivial. For others (specifically, hardcore video game buyers), it's a matter of religion.

For me, it's a rite of passage. See, I opened the very first GameStop, back in the day.

Thursday, 5 May 2005

The Land of Milk and Honey, Here for a Two-Day Engagement

This past weekend (it's still not too late to talk about last weekend, it's not the new one yet) was a good one for restaurant finds: not one, but two new great places to eat. I'll almost certainly write about them some other time, but it was worth mentioning now.

Plus, jazz on Friday after dinner. I'm not a particularly big fan of jazz, but the band playing that night was good. Well, good at playing something that I liked, at least. My friend Cai, my partner-in-crime for this boys night out - and who is a big jazz fan - really liked them, too. Score one for the China Club.

The days were sunny and carefree, like summer days should be. It's not quite summer yet, but springtime should offer good practice for it. Sunday, in particular, obliged: bright, clear skies and warm weather. Celia, my friend who had brunch with me that day, and I ate gelato and people-watched in the park at Les Halles.

So, no big news - as it should be in an idyllic life. Which I don't normally lead, but this weekend was a nice exception. Just so you know.

Tuesday, 3 May 2005

Culturata

For Heather's birthday, I took her to the ballet last night. We did the same in March (her Christmas present - did I mention that she loves the ballet?), but that was at the modern Opéra Bastille. This time, we saw Rudolf Nureyev's adaptation of Cinderella at the classic - and much more ornate - Palais Garnier.

I guess I'd be hard-pressed to say which I liked better, Cinderella or Sylvia (which we saw in March). Sylvia was a very minimalist show, in costume, decor and the number of the cast. Nureyev's Cinderella was over the top, with a huge cast and a very ambitious set.

Hah - there I go, talking as if I knew anything about ballet, or even enough to critique either show. I bow to Heather's expertise; I can only say that I enjoyed both shows. The motion of the dancers, combined with some superb orchestral music, made me happy to see both shows.

It's times like last night that Heather and I get to realize the full benefit of living in Paris. There are few places where I'd be able to see a top-ranked ballet company in action, simply by hopping on a five-minute train ride from my place.

After the jump are a few snaps that I took with my phone camera. You have the benefit of not seeing the seven-foot tall 13-year-old in a tuxedo, seated directly in front of us.

Sunday, 1 May 2005

Mayday, May Day

Phew. More than two months without an update.

I've been swamped, to the point of being overwhelmed - you know what I mean? You don't? Well, then you're lucky and I'm not going to try to explain it to you.

While you're waiting for updates from me, you can read these stories about - and tips for - dealing with email overload:

• The New York Times covered the detrimental effects email has on focusing on important things. (Naturally enough, the article appeared a the start of February - two full weeks before my last entry.)
• The Harvard Business School gives some tips to master (sic) email overload.
• A COO takes stock of eight years of email.
• Despite his position, Donald Knuth, Computer Science Professor Emeritus at Stanford University, long ago decided to drop email completely. (Maybe I should consider the same.)

Wednesday, 23 February 2005

Snow!

This morning, cold as ever, I woke up to the sight of snow! Big whoop, you might say - especially if you hail from Minnesota, where I spent many a year before moving to Paris.

But the fluffy (or sticky) white stuff is a rare sight here. Rare enough to confound and confuse, annoy and amuse, the few times that it does come around. My inner Minnesotan found it pretty funny to see everyone slipping and sliding, in cars or on foot.

You betcha. Oui.

Tuesday, 15 February 2005

People Suck

Well, considering how long I've lived in major metropolitan areas, I suppose it had to happen sooner or later: Tonight, I got pick-pocketed. Or rather, I almost got pick-pocketed.

It started on my way home from exercise this evening, one of a pair of guys just about jumped on my back, wrapping his arm around me. After I pushed off the drunk, the pair hung around for many meters, hassling me.

I'd had enough of it, and and told them both to shove off. The second guy came much closer like he was going to pick a fight, continually trying to trip me and demanding what his friend ever did to me. (Like any good Parisian, I had insulted the back-jumper.)

Seconds after they'd fallen back, I felt my wallet missing. So with a yell and a sprint, I was back to them. I don't know which one took my wallet, but it fell to the ground just as I got close. I gave the second guy a good smack upside the head (you don't punch unless you really want to fight) and swore a good streak.

Checked the contents, seemed to all be there (but I'm not sure about the cash), then off I was again. Both of them just stood there.

As did several bystanders, none of whom had done a thing.

Fuckers. Every one.

Monday, 14 February 2005

The Century Mark

My one hundredth entry in my blog, later than I'd have thought. There have been plenty of holidays in the past couple of months that could've served as an anchor point, but maybe none more appropriate than today. Valentine's Day isn't exactly my favorite holiday - and I'm sure that thousands of others could agree with me.

But 2004 was the year that... I met Heather

Fitting, isn't it, that Entry Number 100 centers on her, seeing as how she made her first official appearance in my fiftieth entry. In truth, she made a passing appearance much sooner than that.

We met one year ago this month, at a masked ball thrown by a club for expats in Paris. It was a few weeks before we were actually dating, but the time since then has been full. I spent many of my high points in 2004 with Heather: two trips to the U.S., hosting Thanksgiving together for friends, silly moments, and more.

With our schedules, we ended up spending today apart - no different than any other Valentine's Day for me, in that way. But that's just today. This past weekend, my gift to her was a surprise trip to Florence, Italy.

What could've seemed frivolous, was in fact spontaneous. Exorbitant became worthwhile. Fleetingly short, the days stretched out before us.

Heather brings out the contradictions in me, and I love her for it. I spent this day without her, but I hope to spend every other one with her.

Happy Valentine's Day, my love.

Thursday, 20 January 2005

"New" Just Isn't What It Used to Be

Happy New Year!

As odd as that may sound now, three full weeks into January, it's actually a French custom to wish people a happy new year after the start of the year. They actually consider it odd when people (Americans, usually) wish each other a happy new year early - even if "early" means saying it to your coworkers as you leave the office on 31 December. It's a very Cartesian thing: either it's the new year, or it isn't.

Following that logic, you have until the end of the month to give people your new-year greetings. Admittedly, though, even by French custom I'm pushing things a bit.

On the other hand, today marks the exact point halfway between the Gregorian new year (1 January) and the Chinese new year (which is 9 February this year, the Year of the Rooster). So we could consider this a whole "new year season," if we were so inclined.

In any case, a new year has started, and I hope it's a good one for you.

It's been some time since I last wrote anything here, for various reasons justifiable and not. But just because I've been silent, doesn't mean that nothing has happened in my life.

Tuesday, 23 November 2004

Two Cities, 36 Hours, 8,000 Miles

I'm about to head to bed after a long day that straddled two time zones, wrapping up a whirlwind weekend.

Heather and I traveled to Boston for a wedding and to upstate New York to celebrate an early Thanksgiving with her family. Mixed in there were meetings with a bunch of her friends and family members. It was a fun weekend, and I'm glad to have gotten to meet so many people close to her.

As the tour guide, Heather did all the driving, so I got to sit back for long stretches. (I did the same for her on a similar trip we took to Minnesota back in September.) As a good boyfriend, though, I stayed awake the whole time that she drove.

This trip was different than any other that I've done in that we only spent a little over 36 hours in the U.S. We arrived in Boston early Friday evening and left early evening on Monday.

That means "today" has straddled two days across two timezones - usual for transatlantic trips, but further complicated by the fact that my body never really figured out which time zone to live in. Sort of a cool feeling, like the buzz I get from serial all-nighters. Only there were other people involved and I wasn't stuck in front of a computer screen.

Oh, and the weekend was much more dynamic than the writing in this entry has been.

Wednesday, 17 November 2004

Babe, I Dream in Better-Than-Color

I have a pretty weird/amazing mind. Things have gotten to the point where not only do I dream in cinema - replete with pans, zooms, cutaways and more - but now my dreams result in pretty decent script treatments.

I wrote down everything below not long after I woke up this morning (or rather yesterday morning, technically speaking), so it should be fairly complete. I've now edited it, so it should also be clear.

Take a gander. Mind, if you pitch it or turn it into a film, I want my pound of flesh.

Wednesday, 3 November 2004

Four More Years, putain

It's official, as of a bit over an hour and a half ago: Bush won the 2004 elections.

I can't say that I'm surprised, since I was sure of his victory as long ago as January (I have witnesses). While I was hopeful that Kerry might win against the odds (that is, the ones I gave him), I never wavered in my pessimistic - or perhaps, pragmatic - prediction.

The Democrats have for too long defined themselves in relation to the Republicans - what they do better or nicer or whatever. This ultimately gives the game to the Republicans.

One American official (I forget who) being interviewed on Arte (an excellent arts and news TV channel) last night said that Bush wanted to be President incredibly strongly (obviously, my paraphrase). Neither Kerry nor any of the other potential opposing candidates seemed to have that hunger, that drive.

Until the Democrats are willing to risk making strong positions on their own and backing them up, they will always be on the defensive. Clinton's and Carter's wins are flukes in this context. The U.S. is and will continue to be a Republican nation precisely because they are able set the rules of the game. Not that I hate the Republicans, but rather the religious extremism and self-righteousness that they now represent.

Like Christmas With Two Scary Santas, That Is

This U.S. Presidential election is a bit like Christmas for me. Not so much for its possible presents, but for the timing. Because it's in-progress over (my) night, I wake up to the results.

At least, I did four years ago. This time I'm sitting here watching the election coverage on CNBC (the only U.S. channel I get). Well, also flipping around. Fashion TV is much nicer to look at.

There are so many things I could say about this U.S. Presidential election. And just about everyone of them would've already been said by someone else. So, I'll say a bit and leave it at that.

It's been interesting to follow the goings-on from abroad this time around, even more so than in 2000. Back then, I'd watched a bit of French coverage, shrugged, and gone to bed. I woke up to, and lived with, the Florida debacle.

Sunday, 10 October 2004

Things That Some People Take for Granted

My sole source of hot water in my apartment is an electric heater, so supplies are limited. When I had long hair, I often ran out of hot water just doing the necessary cleaning 'n' hair washing.

Now that I have short hair, I can relish the times when - after the half-hour walk home through damp and chilly air from a two-hour exercise session - I can take a long, lingering hot shower. Like, for half an hour. Like, say, tonight.

Saturday, 9 October 2004

Armed and Dangerous

I don't know how this slipped my mind, but I got a very important envelope in the mail on Thursday: my absentee ballot. Because I'm officially a French resident, I only have the right to vote for Federal offices, but you can bet that's plenty enough for me.

On a related note, my deep-seated desires must've must have been influencing me when I typed rm -f * in my home directory rather than within the data directory that I'd intended to clear out. This effectively and irrecoverably erased the various files I had sitting around. Though for the life of me, I don't even know for sure what I lost (must not have been too important).

At least I'd (on purpose) not used the -r option. Bush and Cheney should be so lucky.

Tuesday, 5 October 2004

I Hate Doing Laundry

Truly, I do.

Life Right Now

A week after returning from the U.S. (more about that, some other time), I'm finally getting back to my normal sleep schedule. I'm still not sleeping well, though. Probably has something to do with worries about work, not enough exercise and my getting older. I just don't bounce back like I used to.

This last weekend was fun, involving a Saturday night out (snapshots to follow) and bagels (brought back from the U.S.) for breakfast on Sunday. When I say "breakfast," I mean "first thing we ate that day." A small group of friends and a couple of childlings over at Heather's, the last ones leaving around (after?) 3:00 PM.

It's definitely autumn. I've seen that written countless times by other bloggers in Europe, and I feel it too. Nice, crisp air. Much shorter days. More rain (unfortunately). The funny thing is, I didn't really notice the big picture those things formed until I'd left for a week and come back. Funny how a small change in latitude (and differences to Minnesota's continental climate) will do that.

Wednesday, 15 September 2004

Hidden Talents

Tonight I pulled out a carton of cranberry juice, the last remaining drinkable fluid in my apartment. Well, I suppose that the city's tap water is technically drinkable.

Being as it is rare, expensive, and a childhood favorite (two out of three in Paris), I'd drunk half the carton some time ago and left the rest for a special occasion. "No other drinkable fluids" seemed to qualify as pretty special, this evening.

But upon lifting up the flip lock-top, I discovered that in the intervening time a colony of mold had formed around the spout. Down the drain with the rest of my cranberry juice.

Some people have a green thumb. I guess I do, too - in my own, special way. Bye, bye, seven-euro-a-box juice...

Tuesday, 14 September 2004

Phone Fun, Part II

As you could probably guess, the "fun" in the title (as in my last entry with the same name) is purely facetious. Conscious as I am of how many of my recent entries have been negative, I decided to hold off writing anything more about this little escapade until I was well and truly done. Well, done I am (I hope).

I got a call this morning from some guy at the Phone House, letting me know that they'd received my repaired phone. So, 'round about lunchtime I wandered on over. Sure enough, it was repaired - I tested it before paying. Before anything else happened, I left.

Monday, 6 September 2004

Self-Discovery

It's amazing how fast you can shower, dress, pack, and make your way through the Paris Métro system when you wake up just half an hour before your train to Geneva leaves.

Friday, 27 August 2004

Mood-Altering Substances (Comma, Legal)

It's been years since I last bought breakfast cereal of my own volition, despite its stranglehold on my breakfast habits all the way through high school.

Tonight when I picked up some milk and a box, the crowned cereal was Chocapic. It doesn't exist in the U.S. and I couldn't find any French links. (Here's one from Nestlé Argentina that'll have to do. Bless those wonderful multinationals in their benevolent bounty.) In any case, filled with sugar an chocolate as it is, it probably would have been a childhood favorite had I gotten the chance.

Of course, being as long as it has been since my last cereal meal, I ate the Chocapics for dinner. Two bowls' full.

Calvin, getting on his buzz with Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs, would have been proud.

Thursday, 26 August 2004

I Can Hardly Contain Myself

Last night, on a whim, I decided to defrost my freezer. What's that? Feh, keep your snide comments about what normal people would do on a whim, clever person.

I've been meaning to do it for some time, but my usual stock of frozen meals makes it hard to clear the whole thing out. Even being a small appliance, my freezer holds a lot of meals. At 105 liters net capacity, I'd guess it's half again the size of the freezer compartment in a full-sized American refrigerator. Which are built for families of four, so you do the math.

Anyway, it was actually pretty impressive. I did a bit of judicious and gentle coaxing for the better part of the ice. The last piece, however, unceremoniously fell of its own volition about a half an hour after I'd pulled the shelves out.

Warming up fast may not be the best attribute for a freezer in the event, say, of a power failure. But considering that I'd pulled out all the drawers, and the shelves are very thin metal sheets, I'd say it's deigned to do just that in the event of defrosting jobs like this one. Besides, normally it doesn't have any problem at all keeping things rock-solid frozen without much humming.

Well, that was exciting. I'll be sure to keep you in the loop when I scrub clean my bathroom grout.

Cagey Entry

This morning, around 9:15, I took the tiniest of first steps in a new journey. It could potentially be very rewarding, but the only sure thing is that it'll be long.

Wednesday, 25 August 2004

Phone Fun

It's raining again; this August has been more like April, as far as "A" months go. In that spirit:

My phone has been in for repairs for over a month. The resident idiots at my local Phone House (a retail chain) sent it to Bouygues Telecom. This despite the fact that I'm an Orange customer, and my phone isn't tied to any particular company; it should have gone to the Phone House service center. Obviously the quintessential "Friday job": the guy who took my phone was leaving for vacation.

Tuesday, 24 August 2004

There's No Such Thing as a French Baker's Dozen

I recently had the opportunity to get a roll of film developed. Normally, I haven't done that in France because I'd heard how expensive it was. Time was pressing, as I meant the photos to be a gift, so I dropped the roll off. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the price wasn't too much more expensive that what I'd expect to pay in the U.S., &euro 11.36 for 24 double prints.

But therein lay the problem: I only paid for 24 photos. My camera, old though it may be, regularly gets 25 images from a roll of 24. Following typical French Cartesian behavior, the last, perfectly good negative - snip! - was cut right in two.

What, you want to pay us for an extra photo? Silly American! You only get the options that we decide you get!

Looks like I'm back to hording my rolls for developing during my visits to the U.S.

Thursday, 19 August 2004

On the Couch

I woke up this morning to David Bowie's voice echoing in my mind: "My mother said, to get things done, / 'You'd better not mess with Major Tom'." Already repeated several times in a row in the song, my brain kept replaying that block, mirrors upon mirrors.

I have been pretty lax lately. Maybe that's what I need: a bugaboo breathing down my neck (the lines refer to the titular Major Tom of another Bowie great). Something wicked this way comes, and all that. Unfortunately, the lyrics may prove all too prescient.

On the up side, my mind threw into the mix: "I'm happy, hope you're happy too." And I am happy. Unfortunately, the words in their original context aren't as simply innocent as that. Hmmm.

Thursday, 5 August 2004

Blech, Part II

I woke up this morning feeling sluggish, a general malaise. It's been dogging me for a while now, though I never was able to put my finger on it.

Sure, it's been hot lately, and I don't sleep soundly when it's like that. But last night was cool, so that wasn't it.

Work's been tough, but not drive-me-out of my mind insane. So, that's not it either.

Everything else is pretty much in place, so... But wait - there is something. I haven't exercised regularly for something going on two months now. Hmm, that makes sense.

I came across this particular entry when it first came out, and it definitely sounded logical to me (as did its follow-up. Nodding my mind's eye's head (does that make sense?) in agreement, I never expected that I'd actually feel it myself.

Wednesday, 4 August 2004

I Used to Have Hair

This has been a long time coming, so I'll make it short: I used to have hair. Long hair, to be precise. "Long" like "down to my ass" kind of long. Long.

I had it a long time. Thirteen years, if you count from when I started growing it out. More than eleven years, if you count from the time that I had something that could reasonably be called "long."

Then, in January, I finally got it cut.

Now, it's short. "Acceptable for business" short. "Won't scare away clients" short. And, so I've heard, "sexy" short. Sometimes it's even Heather who says that. (The last comment; I don't think she'd really care about the others.)

Anyway, you want pictures. Well, I've got pictures. From the first to the last, almost every minute of that landmark winter evening was captured in photos.

Preemptive replies:

• Yes, I was smiling like an idiot for the whole time. I really don't know why.
• No, I wasn't drunk.
• No, no one made me do it. I finally just got tired of having long hair.
• No, it doesn't "feel weird." Neither the haircut (process) nor the length.

I might eventually get around to adding comments below the photos. For now, the sequence can speak for itself.

(updated Wednesday, 25 August 2004)

I've added comments to several of the photos, as well as a contact sheet that shows all the pictures. Also, each image is now available in a larger format, besides the medium and thumbnail sizes.

Nothing special, but I thought I'd mention it.

Tuesday, 3 August 2004

Blech, On So Many Levels

So, as promised: the skinny on the rain.

It did.

Unfortunately, as is common with summer storms, this one took all night to build up and lasted all of five minutes. So much for the scheduled cooling rain. I guess it decided that it had unfinished work, because it slowly swung around and took a second go at it around lunchtime.

Which, of course, would have been perfect had it not been that Véronique, Heather and I were having our lunch outdoors precisely under the gap between the restaurant's two awnings. No worries, thanks for the wash down, then.

Véronique, by the way, is leaving tomorrow to live in Barcelona. This was a going-away lunch of sorts, and a catch-up of other sorts (as it'd been about a year since I last saw her). I'm sure the rain will make for fond memories.

Despite even now being in the normally comfortable low-20s (mid-to-low 70s in Fair-en-hite), the dewpoint is just a bit lower. So then, clammy skin and clinging sheets tonight, it is - and not for any particularly good reasons either.

A real page-turning, seat-gripper today, eh? It'll be better soon, promise.

In the meantime, it's up to Mr. Nice to keep you entertained.

Monday, 2 August 2004

Bother

It's been hot and sticky today - 32 degrees at the moment, certainly having peaked at a higher temperature. While it doesn't begin to approach last year's canicule, I still had to leave the office early. ("Early" here defined as "6:30 PM.") I just couldn't focus enough to warrant sticking around any longer.

"Bother," as a favorite prognosticator would have said.

"Ils ont annoncé de la pluie," my neighbors told me as we crossed in our apartment building's stairwell. You've got to love that Cartesian certainty: "They've announced rain." As if such a thing could be programmed, like a football match or a day off.

But little matter: I'll just use this time to catch up a bit in my blog, after having been absent from it for some time. Various reasons and all that, none of which really matter.

I'll let you know how that rain thing worked out.

Thursday, 15 July 2004

The Rockets Glared Red... and Blue, and White, and Green

So, it's been pretty much a lifetime tradition for me to see fireworks every year. I suppose that would hardly be surprising for most people I know. Not because I know them, but because they're American or French or British or Chinese, and the U.S. and France and the U.K. and China (and thereabouts) celebrate big events with fireworks.

Today just happens to mark the storming of the Bastille, and start of the French revolution - ushering in a reign of terror that eventually led, logically, to the installation of an emperor. Um, wait - that doesn't seem right. Oh, there was a bit of representative democracy in there and a king and stuff. Anyhoo, it was a pretty big deal at the time - at least for those who hadn't had their heads chopped off. Now we're all civilized and everything, and it's the Fifth Republic.

Friday, 9 July 2004

Fait divers

Super Size Me just came out in French theatres this Wednesday. As if by magic (and certainly, pure coincidence), McDonald's is offering "for a limited time" the Big Mac Plus: three patties instead of two for no additional cost.

Of course, this resulted in my getting it for dinner. For two nights. In a row.

Wednesday, 30 June 2004

Number 50

I was talking with Heather this evening, when stress came up (that is, the subject of...). If I learned one thing from my hell weeks, it's that at a certain point I just top out on stress. I never had that happen before (I've got a lot of stress to share, I guess).

Successive 18-hour days and massive worry actually ended up putting me into a Zen-like state. "Zen-like," in that I still could get upset - but not more stressed. In fact, I think I was calmer during the worst of my work periods (like the 37-hour day) than at the project's start (when all I could see was the hugeness of what lay before me) or its end (when I was having to play firefighter instead of savoring a job well done).

Other things, potentially picked at random but probably not:

• After avoiding it for the last two years (thanks to massive overplaying in every media outlet), I finally picked up Gotan Project's "La Revancha del Tango." Most excellent. Buy it. Play it. Love it.
• Last weekend, I finished off the World's Most Expensive Q-Tips. Well, they weren't, really. But how else can you describe what amounts to a package of fluff that I hauled over the Atlantic? Using nice words, smartass.
• Heather is amazing, and I'm lucky beyond words to have her in my life.

That is all.

Wednesday, 23 June 2004

Too. Tired. To. Care.

So, it's been about a week since my project from hell finished. I'm verbose, but I don't like to beat a dead horse. Still, I'm going to revisit this one last time.

I don't often talk about work details. For one thing, I think that it's important for a client relationship. For another, when I'm not working, I usually want to talk about other things. This project is different, in that it was a nightmare and I need to get things off my chest.

I'm not looking to drag our client through the mud; I still respect the business aspect of our relationship, even if the client really pissed me off. Don't bother going on if you're looking for a tawdry tell-all or a naming of names. The same goes if you don't feel like wading through my ranting.

I should say frame what comes next with the fact that it was, in the end, a learning experience. I recognize that there are several things that we could have done better on our end. Still, I place much of the blame at the feet of a client who was unwilling to make any compromises, even when he himself made the task impossible.

For us, the project seemed a pretty cool opportunity at the start: we were hired to create the dynamic screensaver and desktop wallpaper for a major football championship. Then came the scope slippage: six languages, sixteen teams (plus a general version), working on Windows and the Macintosh. Phew.

Thursday, 17 June 2004

A Midsummer Morning's Dream

I had a waking dream this morning (right around the time that I woke up, meaning that I could remember enough to savor the dream), involving time travel, some very familiar setting (a school? a former workplace?), a favorite band and a foreign language.

The favorite band was Bel Canto, who I haven't listened to for a while - but I assure you that I am at this very moment. Beautiful, sweeping vocals befitting the name. Odd-yet-familiar melodies. Great stuff.

The time travel element was standard sort-of-odd dream fare, the familiar setting a banal detail. The foreign language, though, was what seemed to be some Scandinavian tongue.

A Recipe for Disaster

1 Difficult client
1 Mind, never made up
1 Fixed deadline, fast approaching
Handful of contractors, going insane

Mix input and deadline. Underscore early in the process that it is expected that the contractors be flexible. Next, change definition often and refuse to adhere to any sort of agreement, written or not.

Question ability of contractors to do anything if they don't precisely follow client's "suggestions." Do not recognize requirements defined earlier, except when advantageous to your position or unrealistic - preferably both.

Indicate unhappiness with rate of advancement; bring contractors to a slow boil. Whenever a goal is almost reached, change your definition of fulfillment. Let contractors stew in juices.

As deadline approaches, add ill-defined discontent at will but do not give any required information for advancement. Increase pressure until almost explosive.

When done, ignore results.

Tuesday, 25 May 2004

So It Ends With a Whimper, Not a Bang

So anticlimactic it was, I never even thought to mention how my experience with the worker-thieves came to a close.

One week ago yesterday, after several weeks of halfhearted phone-tag, I ran into the owner of the apartment above mine. Daniel (his name, and much easier to write than repeating some descriptive sentence) had hired a contractor to fix damage in my apartment. Said contractor, in turn, was apparently very let down by what can only be termed a professional betrayal on the part of his workmen (man?).

Anyway, despite the fact that the only real proof that I could present was a list of long-distance phone calls, Daniel got € 50 from the contractor, which he passed on to me. That's almost twice the cost of the calls, but doesn't really cover my frustration or what I had lost (a favorite sweater, a bit over € 15 worth of shiny, never-circulated, first-year-they-existed coins).

Sunday, 23 May 2004

Well, Someone Will Always Have Paris, I Guess

My good friend Valerie is going to move back to the U.S. Half-French and half-American, she had a long-term goal to live in France. Once here, she planned to stay for the rest of her life. So her news - while positive for her career - took me aback.

Well, maybe that's too strong of an expression. See, I need to express surprise without actually feeling surprise.

Wednesday, 19 May 2004

Puff, Puff, Puff

I'm writing this one the return train from Geneva to Paris (no, not with an Internet connection - but being the obsessive-compulsive accurate person I am, I'll have dated this entry to reflect the actual time).

We had to run to the train and quickly negotiate our way through customs in order to make it - and we did, with less than 30 seconds to spare. The taxi that was supposed to have come, didn't. Our client's office is on a private driveway that looks like something leading to an abandoned house (in fact, the office itself looks like an abandoned house - perfect camouflage). The driver had come and left; when we called to check on his status, the central controller told us that he'd simply called in to say that the address didn't exist. Grrr - this in the age of GPS-linked computer maps.

Wednesday, 12 May 2004

Nothing Much: An Exercise in Task Avoidance

Tonight's palette-tickler was lasagnes chèvre-épinards and another serving of those feathered vegetables. After making sure the greens were clear of any errant plumes, I settled in for a cheesy gooey goodness while reading articles on the Web.

Monday, 19 April 2004

I Really Don't Want to Know What Kind of Vegetable It Came From

I sometimes wax poetic about the frozen dinners that I eat (or don't). Far from the stereotypical TV dinner that comes to mind, or the pizza 'n' fried chicken selection available in the U.S., these are pretty tasty and made from fresh, decent ingredients. Mmm-mmm goodness in single-serving portions? Sign me up.

Tonight, for example, was papillote d'aiguillettes de poulet à la forestière. En anglais, this is thin strips of chicken in a "woodsy style" (take that as you will). "Papillote" roughly translates to the rather unrefined word "package," with an undertone of "easy to make."

Easily prepared, tender grilled chicken, a bunch of different types of mushroom (tender and varied, none of which I - as a non-mushroom hunter - could translate with any justice). Add a nice garlicky sauce, and deenair ees serve-ed.

Thursday, 15 April 2004

Free at Last, Free at Last, Thank the IRS Almighty!

Today, true to form, I finished my U.S. Federal tax declaration at almost the last minute possible. Despite being a bona-fide foreign resident (yes, yes, I am - even the IRS admits it), I still have to file with the U.S. government. Truly, this is a sign that I am loved if even potential crumbs from my income interest them.

Anyway, it's a relief to be done with it. Even though foreign residents get an automatic two-month extension to 15 June, I've owed money in the past - which means I have to pay no later than 15 April (ah ha, gotcha - those crumbs again). It turns out that I didn't owe money this year - in fact, I'm getting a couple of crumbs back. But by the point I knew for sure, I had already completed my paperwork and who really wants to hold onto that kind of stuff any longer than they have to? (That's a rhetorical question; I don't want to hear from those of you who do. In fact, just back away from me as slowly as possible, thanks.)

Wednesday, 14 April 2004

Happiness Is a Warm Keyboard

I'm typing this on my brand new keyboard, courtesy of yesterday's fun-filled romp with Dell support.

The keys work much better than those on my old keyboard. No excessive rattling, a much more sturdy feel, the edges of my space bar are responsive. The best is that pressing any key in the vicinity of Backspace doesn't flex that entire region of my keyboard. That last one was a killer.

So, zero credit for Dell's support process; kudos to the fact that the fix exists. But then again, why shouldn't I expect a decent keyboard on a € 3,200 portable computer?

It's almost as good as the keyboard on my ThinkPad 390X (bought used, € 420).

(updated Friday, 16 April 2004)

As a special bonus, let me add one more thing that - in the way of all blindingly obvious things - totally slipped my mind.

Tuesday, 13 April 2004

Maybe I Was Talking to the Farmer

I just got off the phone with Dell's support merdique. Almost fifty minutes, at 15 (euro) cents a minute [1] spent justifying why they needed to fix a problem with my putain de keyboard - a problem, I might add, that existed since soon after I bought my portable a year ago.

My troubles stem from poor design, and the company recognized the problem and fixed it a little over two months after I took delivery of my Inspiron. Not that they retroactively fixed computers unless you complained, of course. Bah, "Inspiron" - at times, the only thing it "inspirons" me to do is cram it down Dell's collective throat.

Thursday, 25 March 2004

Explain to Me How That Works Again?

So today our office got a new unbundled ADSL connection. It's almost twice as fast (downstream) as our old one, and we'll get a whole year's access for less than what we were paying for two months at our old provider. The only difference is that there's no uptime guarantee - but considering our old provider had more than one outage that lasted an entire business day, somehow the word "guarantee" doesn't mean a lot to me.

The point is, the new provider sent the modem over by courier once the connection was confirmed (nifty just-in-time service). I had it connected ten minutes later (even a geek has to eat first), took 20 to figure out the Web configuration (static IP via PPPoA, yuck; made a "temporary" setup so that our crufty 192.168/24 internal network can talk to the modem's 10/8 address space; turned off the modem's superfluous default services; blah, blah, blah). A bit under 45 minutes after we'd signed for delivery, our network was using the 1216 Kb/s connection as if nothing on the other side of the firewall had changed. For my final trick, I pointed our extranet's domain record to the new static address.

Tonight, washing it for dinner, I broke my third and last remaining drinking glass.

Wow, Normally I Wouldn't Have Taken That "11" Thing Literally

Just a short while ago, I was witness to a power struggle between my neighbors. By "power struggle," I mean "shouting match." By "witness," I mean "couldn't avoid hearing shouting match through my door."

Your typical everyday passive-aggressive Parisian has nothing on this bunch.

My next-door neighbors, far from being the most quiet lot, were justifiably pissed off at my upstairs-and-across-the-hall neighbors. Loud music, enough to vibrate the walls, had been blasting out of Team B's stereo for a half an hour or so. This isn't the first time, true 'nuff. In the angry-red corner, Team A was righteously indignant because they apparently had their own evening cut short by their cross-floor rivals last Friday. At a relatively reasonable 1:00 AM, no less.

Monday, 22 March 2004

Nothin' Doin'

Am I the only one who gets like this? Energetic, but more of a nervous energy than anything actually useful? I spent the whole day wanting to get things done, and just about as much time not getting them done.

So, the day pretty much devolved into plowing through my 1000's of mailing list messages and doing some administrative stuff for work. And instead of actually going home at a decent time this evening, I stayed on at the office. Why? My not-so-secret addiction: Freeciv.

I'm not really a game player, definitely not like my brother and absolutely not enough to keep myself from getting laughed at by the average 10-year old with a Playstation. But back in the day I loved Populous, in all its low-res, single-diskette glory. So I guess I'm predisposed to liking a game that gives me godlike powers.

Freeciv is basically the open source version of Civilization. The details aren't important if you don't already know what it is. Suffice to say, it's the kind of game that the geeks played in the dorm study room all night long. I never did understand it, and I definitely thought they were weird.

Well now it's just one more notch in my "ultimate geek" belt, I guess. If you ever see me bleary eyed in the morning, check the day. If it's not the weekend, I don't have a hangover.

Wednesday, 17 March 2004

Springtime in Paris

The last couple of days have been beautiful, sunny days. Unusual for Paris at this time of year, the sky is clear and the thermometer hit 20 yesterday and 22 today (68 and 72 in Fahrenheit). Normally it's a choice: you get cloudy skies and warmth, or clear skies and chill.

Needless to say, it's been a treat. The city even smells good, like it was getting ready for some event. (You can hold your snarky comments about stereotypical French bathing habits.)

The air smells warm.

Wednesday, 10 March 2004

*Plop* Goes the ... Oh, Never Mind

I was going to entitle this entry "Saved from Myself." It was going to be self-congratulatory: having had an extremely draining two days, I'd decided to go to McDonald's (hiss) for a no-brainer, zero-nutritional-value meal.

The lines were waaay too long. (See, "saved from myself": I'm so clever.)

Instead I decided to make a nice little treat-myself-to-comfort-food meal and popped a pizza in the oven. (Is there anything sadder than a single-serving pizza?) After the prerequisite time spent baking, with extra credit given for my blabbing on the phone, I took out the piping-hot circle of ham 'n' cheese goodness.

And it. Fell. Right. On. The. Floor.

Today's lesson in applied aerodynamics and quantum physics is that the tastiest side of any food will land face-down on the floor and create a mess exponentially proportional to your eagerness to enjoy the Judas meal, possibly burning you while you try and wipe it up.

Sunday, 7 March 2004

Reversal of Fortune

Proving that it is possible to have all the little things fall into place, this weekend was almost a complete recovery from last weekend:

• I ran into the guy who paid for the repairs in my apartment (the setup is too complicated to detail here). He was genuinely upset that the repair guys took so many liberties with my things, and told me to drop off a note listing everything so he could work it out with their company.
• I got my replacement SIM card for my new phone, a Sony Ericsson T610 (my impressions at a later date). My cut-off-from-the-world feeling is now over. Jonesing for a mobile connection is just so stupid, it's embarrassing.
• I had two totally bad-event-free evenings out on Friday and Saturday. Last Saturday was fun but ended on a too-sour note.

Also, a total of three hours of the weekend were spent working out. Any random stress floating around didn't even have a chance to take hold.

Sunday, 29 February 2004

Running Up That Hill

Stressed from wondering if our month-delayed project will actually start tomorrow. Sheepish from losing my phone. Sense of humor lost or abducted, and I don't feel like looking for it.

Time to let go and climb back on the horse.

Brunch with my friend Julie and her boyfriend, in town from Stockholm. Nicer to end their visit on a relaxed meal and a short walk than my guiltily ditching them at the club last night.

Otherwise it was a stay-at-home day, trying to get some things accomplished. Finally cleaned the paint and plaster dust off the bookshelf/CD rack built into one of my apartment's walls. Now that much less crap now sitting on the floor and actually accessible.

Spent the afternoon reading a funny online comic to lift my spirits, and am going to watch another episode or two of "Futurama" before bed. No phoning, no email. In short, much-needed downtime.

Appropriately for this weekend, dinner consisted of my remaining portion of exploding fish.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

My worst string of luck since, like, forever:

• I get my phone bill today. Bunch of calls to Turkey. Funny, exactly when I was on vacation - and the repair guys were here. Bastards.
• Out with friends tonight. Take an unlicensed cab (better than waiting forever in freezing cold during peak demand). My phone falls out of my pocket in the car; don't notice until at club. Try calling him on my number so I can get it back (I never believed, always hoped). Most expensive cab ride ever. Fucker.
• Too down to have fun. Cut out early. Freezing cold. Walking back home, my jacket zipper breaks off. Bugger.

The first are expensive. The last is just life telling me that it likes kicking me when I'm down. Well, screw you too.

Thursday, 26 February 2004

Laughter Takes the Edge Off the Pain

Today was a pretty shitty day. Those who know me will understand that the simple fact that I used the word "shitty" makes it so, but for the rest let me count the ways:

It was third in as many days that a perpetually delayed project stressed me out to no end. I felt mentally and physically wiped out by the time I crawled back to my apartment. Acting even more asocial than usual, I turned down not one but two different friends' evenings out. Finally - in a fit of pique (or of spite) - my dinner exploded in the microwave.

Fortunately, there were two things that cheered me up. One was an email. The second was a couple of episodes of "Futurama," whose first season my brother had the kindness and foresight to give me as a gift.

Sweet, sweet geek escapism...

Monday, 23 February 2004

Ruminating

It's been a while - maybe years - since I've had scallops, at one time my favorite seafood. But for some random reason I've preyed on these unsuspecting mussels not once, but twice in the last week.

Tonight was printanière de noix de Saint-Jacques crémée aux artichauts (a mouthful, but easier when translated: "scallops in creamed artichoke sauce"; "printanière" refers to a sort of "springtime" style, but I'm no gourmet expert so I can't be more specific). Last Wednesday was also scallops - market-fresh that very morning, served broiled in a butter sauce.

The difference was that tonight had me eating a Picard frozen meal at home and last week I was one of six at a friend's dinner party. Both these meals were good. Still, convenience has a nice bonus: any time the urge strikes, I can whip out a frozen package and ten minutes later be eating steaming scallops.

What I enjoy the most is the latest conventional wisdom about eating well: look at the week as a whole, not each individual day. Which seems about right, considering that besides dining on scallops last Wednesday, we lucky few had pâté de foie gras and finished with a dark chocolate mousse cake from Stohrer (a pâtisserie founded by King Louis XV's pastry chef).

Is it rubbing it in to ask you to guess who brought the cake?

Thursday, 19 February 2004

Not Every Picture Needs a Thousand Words

Considering my rather vitriolic entry that kicked off this very blog, I'm sure that some of you are wondering why I even bother. Maybe justifiably so.

Right before I went back to the States for the holidays, I was talking to a friend about how much I was looking forward to my trip. "Take a lot of pictures," she said, "and show them to me when you get back." I nodded, and didn't really give it much thought. Of course I'd take lots of pictures, and happily share them with her (in part because I was really interested in her; things didn't work out, but that's neither here nor there).

But you see, the funny thing is that I'm not the kind of person to "take a lot of pictures." I struggle to get through a single roll in a whole year, much less "a lot" during a short period. Besides, the people and places (save for a couple) were ones I had seen a thousand times before.

Sunday, 15 February 2004

Another One Bites the Dust