vie de merde, pt. deux

I'm going to write a book called "Everything I Know About Being Inconsiderate, I Learnt from My French Neighbors."

Here's a sneak-peek.

Chapter one: How not to own a dog.

First and foremost, remember that a dog is still an animal, despite how domesticated he may be. That is to say, even though he follows orders and understands words like, "walk" and "no" and "out", he still has no inherent concept of logic. For example, leave an excitable dog outside and it will bark. And bark. And bark. And bark and bark and bark and bark. You see, it doesn't need a reason to bark. It doesn't even need a reason to stop barking. It will continue to make noise until fatigue has set in and he becomes distracted by the idea of scratching himself. This rules applies regardless of the sleeping patterns of you or your foreign neighbor upstairs who thinks that 4:30 am is actually a really good time to be asleep.

Chapter two: Seeking medical help.

A cough can be pretty annoying, especially if you have to share a room with someone else -- you feel bad every time a coughing spurt creeps up and try to make as little noise as possible, even sometimes leaving the room so you can hack up the full extent of your throat's tickle. But hey, if you live alone, don't even worry about it. Seriously. Even though your nearest neighbor is just below you, they probably can't hear you. And since they probably don't even hear it, you don't need to worry if your cough persists for weeks. Months, even. Heck, you might as well just integrate it into your personality so you can be known around town as "that fun guy who's had the same persistent, hacking and upchuck-inducing cough for the last eleven months." Actually, on second thought, you should probably see a doctor. Please, for the love of god, see a doctor.

Chapter three: Being [legitimately] Crazy

Let's say you really, really want to piss people off. And not just get them angry, but you want an instant livid and irate rise out of them. Well, let me tell you -- nothing enrages people quite like being woken up at ungodly hour... on the weekend! So here's what you do: around 2:00 am on a Friday night/Saturday morning, stand outside an apartment building and buzz every single resident until someone lets you in (note: the older the building, the better. This is because the noise they hear when a person buzzes to come in will sound like someone gave a mosquito a megaphone and turned the volume up to "bleeding ears"). Next, take a heavy metal object (it doesn't really matter what sort), and choose an empty apartment. Now, start banging said object on the door, really have at it and chip away at the wood as best you can. Once people are awake, they'll leave their apartment in their pajamas and start shouting at you, shouting at each other, then dogs will bark and children will cry; these are all signs that your plan is working! At some point, they'll call the cops and have you removed but remember: be persistent! It helps if you come back and restart the whole process around 4:00-ish, because it'll really drive those suckers batshit crazy. Careful though, at this point you risk arrest and possible jail time. But it's totally worth it, cause nothing infuriates people as effectively as psychotic and illogical displays of violence and noise when they should be sound asleep in their beds. 

Actually, I don't think I could make this stuff up. 

this is not a two-way road.

Recently, one of my students sent me an email, something that I originally thought was a cute joke but ended up causing more grief than I'd like to admit.

He wrote to me "il faut que tu travailles un peu ton français, moi aussi je te donne des textes à lire" (you should work on your French a little so I'm giving you some reading materials too). He included a short article from a French newspaper and I laughed to myself because I sometimes send him articles in English that we discuss later. I shot him back a response, a short one-sentence email where I said (or thought I had said) "wow, how considerate! Should I summarize the text and send you my reaction? :P" to show him I thought his joke was funny. It was a joke, right?

In his response back, he corrected what I had written in red font and added "regarding your sentence, I hope you didn't learn me english with as many mistakes!" 

My jaw dropped. What the fuck! I thought it was really cheeky of him not only to correct what I had written but acknowledge my mistakes again in reference to my ability to teach him English. I was genuinely offended so I wrote him back "no, I don't teach you incorrect English but I also don't correct every small mistake because if I did, you wouldn't be very motivated to speak it with me." I continued to be more than a little peeved with him over the next few hours but in the back of my mind, I really hoped that I didn't come to regret my response to him later on.

I got another response: "1- 1 ok I'm going to work on Rrrrr... [he has problems with the "r" sound in English] I joke, nevertheless, I believe you have the opportunity to be in France, so, it's gonna be a real pity if you won't speak french fluently."

At this point, I was thinking, Ok. Here's a student of mine, someone who hired me to teach him English. We don't speak French together because he's an English student and that's, after all, what I'm getting paid to do -- and I don't remember asking for help with my French. Why is he even bothered? 

Over the last year, one of the biggest things I've learnt about teaching is the importance of positive reinforcement. A lot of people (myself included) don't generally like having their faults acknowledged without some kind of encouragement as well -- if you don't have a balance of both, you'll have a skewed view of where you really are. While this guy's level in English really shouldn't affect my reaction to his emails, he often makes mistakes speaking English and that's natural for any non-native speaker. As I said to him, if I were to point them all out, he would quickly lose confidence and feel inadequate and that's simply useless to everyone.

I began to feel so stupid. It's taken a seriously unfortunate amount of time for me to get over my irrational fear of making mistakes publicly and I suddenly felt like I had been pushed back a few steps. I considered writing him back: "well ASSHOLE, I didn't ask for your goddamn help, you fat turd!" but that had a pretty much instant guarantee of regret, so I didn't. I didn't actually write anything back, deciding instead to ignore it. I have no obligations to this guy, he's not my friend and he's not someone I will continue to talk to when I leave France. 

Was I wrong to react the way I did? It's pretty stupid really, if I were to try to put myself outside of the situation. But I maintain that it was still cheeky of him. And frankly, I'm a little tired of excusing behavior that I can't rationalize as simply "french" and therefore, beyond my understanding. Because there are shitty ways of behaving, no matter what your language or age or culture or gender.

C'est tout. bisou.

my general attitude towards jerks.

franglicismes

Ok, here's an update on things. 

1. I'm working at two schools now -- the new school is located in the city center in a rather swanky sort of area (there's a Louis Vuitton literally downstairs) and is much, much more legit than the other place. Because it's mostly for working professionals or people preparing for the TOEIC/TOEFL, it's more credible, the students have a better level and so, what I'm really trying to say is, I get paid better. Also, the view is pretty BAMF*
2. I'm still working at the other school doing more or less the same amount of hours I had last year. The only difference is that I have my own class of children who are aged 3-4 and there are eight of them. It's been rather... Hmm...  I'm looking for a good euphemism for fucking terrible. Between the crying and getting spit on and the yelling and hitting, I guess it's bearable. But I'm not really that great with children and I'm in it more for the experience (read: higher pay).
3. Since I've been working more and have been able to put aside some money after Barcelona left me rather broke, I've been a little bit more adventurous in terms of cooking. I can afford better food, and more of it, so it's not such a disaster when I screw things up, which is actually most of the time. I made meatballs over tomatoes the other night. Woof, they were pretty gnarly. In my defense, the recipe came from a cookbook for English people in the 70's. So there's that. Maybe I'll try them again -- I'm optimistic. 
4. I recently enjoyed the perks of having my parents visit which was wonderful. They brought pumpkin spice candles and other autumn goodies which I nearly wept for joy at, I miss fall so much. Not to mention, they were here during the mid-season sales so I got to splurge on some fancy French clothes which I sorta feel like a bad ass wearing. From time to time, I realize that everything I'm wearing has been bought in France and then I don't feel like such a schmuck who can't dress herself.
5. I've been putting in a genuine effort into my French. Often I'll have a string of really busy days of teaching and afterward I'll realize the only French I've actually spoken is something artificial like "une baguette, s'il vous plaît." So I'm really trying, forcing myself to listen to at least one podcast everyday, even trying to sit through some bad French TV (what a brat I am -- ugh, I have to sit and watch TV!?!).
6. I'm starting to think I'm fundamentally incompatible with French men. I'm so Anglo, it's stupid. 
7. It's cold now. Being in denial about wearing a coat is no longer an option. And my sandals no longer sit next to the corner of my bed -- they've been sent back to the dark corner next to my very dusty boots. I fear the tights will soon have to make a debut. Sigh, another cold season... Here we come.
8. Lastly, today marks one year ago that I moved into my little studio and I'm actually not really sure how I feel about that.

*

laisse-toi aller et n'aie pas peur

As I sat in the lavarie, watching my purple sheets toss and swirl in the machine while filling in a sudoku puzzle from the morning's newspaper, I got a text message. "Foot ce soir à 18h si ça te chauffe !" It was from a friend who I sometimes play soccer with when he's in town.

Zut! I thought to myself. I would so love to play soccer tonight but I had classes in the afternoon and evening. I wrote back that I had to work and added "peut-être la prochaine fois!" Shortly after, I started thinking about my first year in France and how passive I was about making plans with people -- if someone didn't invite me to do something with them, I hardly ever was the one to suggest something. And to be honest, this is something I'm known for doing back home too. I'm just lazy, I guess.

So, a few days later as I was killing time between lessons with a chocolatine, I decided to write him back suggesting that we hang out before he goes back to Paris. I initially met him through a friend of a friend, and we'd hung out several times before over the summer (amongst other people, mind you) so I thought, it'd be nice! Right?

I got a text back -- "Tommorrow night afterwork from 19pm... I pick u up ;)" And I thought, hey great!

...Oh, that smiley is winking at me... Why is that smiley winking at me...

I ignored it and answered back if we could meet a bit later as I had things going on before. He replied with two more winking smilies. And then a worry-knot began to cluster in my stomach. Is this a date??? Oh god, Lindsay, you idiot.

So I panicked for a while and I talked to a friend who told me that maybe I might be over-thinking this. I have a habit of doing that, but when a guys sends you multiple winking smilies and is very direct with you, not even asking if you're free... Well, I mean... I'm not a totally self-absorbed person, ok guys!?

I go downstairs on time to wait for my ride and stood there nervously for a few minutes, picking at my nails and swaying back and forth. I was now dreading this situation that I had knowingly and willingly put myself in, cursing the fact that I decided to be so forward and direct. Have I learnt nothing about French men?!

Suddenly, a car full of people screech to a stop in front of my building and my friend pops out, shouting "Hé! Leen-say!" Relieved, I run up to the car and see there are three other people inside: my friend's brother, his old roommate (both of whom I've played soccer with before) and this girl I've never met, who turned out to be the most bubbly and outgoing Spanish person I've ever met. I faire la bise with everyone before climbing inside and he explains to me that we're going to this place where girls get in for free and there are free food and drinks until 10 pm. And I thought, Fantastic, I love champagne. Let's do this, nerds.

And a few hours later, as me and this girl, who I've just lent my sandals to in exchange for her tall, black, and uncomfortable pumps, are dancing to Alors On Danse with everyone around us, I felt stupid and completely unreasonable for having been so afraid of what might happen if I put myself out there. I began to laugh at myself, realizing the extent to which I let a little fear control me. 

I can say without fear or hesitation that a life of adventure and total accidental awesomeness far beats the boring life I left behind a year ago.

bises