This is a bunch of stuff

So I was walking through the Place de la Republic the other night realizing that the perfect time to be out and about in Paris is that sweet spot  between 21h and 23:30 on a quite soggy night because  the sidewalks aren't smoky and over crowded and the drunks aren't yet too curious. 

Naturally, I was singing. I have discovered a lot of great bands over the last year and even though my breaths support isn't what it once was, I still like to belt me out a good tune. All this would be fine if I hadn't been listening to debate highlights songified--the whole time wondering how freakish and patriotic I must look to anyone in earshot and bilingue.

As you may know, we've been in a holding pattern here in Paris for quite some time. It's been my plan since before high school to do the Peace Corps and maybe I meant to do it sooner but it really seems like it's going to happen now. Can't say for sure when, as yet, but before the end of this year I expect to be in another country. 

In a letter we received last night from our recruiter, I was assured there are no posts open in French-speaking countries. Which is a bummer because they currently have open programs in Senegal, Guinea, Burkina Faso, Togo, Benin and Cameroon. They also have feet on the ground in Morocco and Madagascar, but their flash map says they don't train their volunteers in French in these countries. 

Check it out for yourself, it's a pretty solid history of where the Peace Corps has been in the world.

I'll be the first to admit that my thirst for adventure was what interested Erin the child in the Corps but Erin the taller really does like to help people. I say this to explain that my concept--or if I'm being honest--fantasy of how service in the Peace Corps would go has evolved just as I have... 

If this is you:

We should be friends. 

/digression

I've kind of always had my heart set on Africa. The best short fiction in the New Yorker always came out of Africa, said Erin the Child. People are starving in Africa, said Erin's mom, Eat your dinner. Let's deny them access to contraception and education, said the Bush administration. I take a shower after having sex with someone I suspect of having HIV,  remarked the current President of South Africa.   Erin the taller said, I can teach and now I know a nominal amount of French, let me serve. But the letter said we are being considered for all the open programs in the world. So we could be in Columbia or Turkmenistan, as it suits them.
As much as I'm quietly worried about the atrophying of my French, I'm also feeling liberated from my expectations. I can learn almost any language they need me to in two years time. I've proved that to myself here. Moreover, I'm traveling with a rational, map and money-savvy man who will stick by my side and help me sail to our next port. Most of all, I shouldn't worry too much about a future I can't predict or change--I know these things, but I  don't live this truth. 

It snowed last weekend; almost all day, on Sunday. What a wonderful gift to the children of Paris, on an afternoon like Sunday. No school. More than half the shops in town closed your parents have to spend time with you. Many of the streets closed to cars, couldn't have hoped for a better excuse to make wintertime memories.  You should have seen them in Le Parc des Buttes Chaumont.

We slid on our heels a while others used cardboard, truckless skateboards, or sleds, or skis. We walked all the way home and had hot chocolate en route. Had an even better cup of it last night, as a matter of fact. You could say that things have been pretty cozy, lately. We've been reusing tea bags and burning candles. Sweaters, slippers and wool socks whenever we're up. Lots of reading in bed. I love it. There is even a machine raclette sitting on our kitchen table. We'll see what comes of it.
My only sure thing is Sunday's March for Equality. That's right, I'm determined not to be too hungover to stand up for my French LGBT brothers and sisters and their right as tax paying citizens to marry and raise children legally. There was a protest against it two weeks ago but as Biden would say, "Their ideas are old, and their ideas are bad." And I would quote him, because debates are better as musicals.
See you on the other-side of eventually. 

You have read this article French / Le Parc des Buttes Chaumont / LGBT / Manifestation pour l'égalité / Norman fait des vidéos / Paris / Peace Corps / Pokemon / Science Major Mouse Meme / Songifide / The Post Modern Talk-o with the title Pokemon. You can bookmark this page URL http://trendcelebrity2014.blogspot.com/2013/01/this-is-bunch-of-stuff.html. Thanks!

The boy is mine.

It's been almost a month since I received one of the most disturbing emails of my adult life. I don't call myself an adult lightly, mind. But I think this situation has helped me see just how adult I've become. Ok, fair, I  read those lines back and I know it sounds dramatic and I'm sorry because normally I try to keep the stuff that really bothers me out of my blog--but the truth is, I don't have a lot of experience with man-related drama, and I thought that I could help myself work through it by sharing it with you.
I'd like to think that I've cultivated the kind of friendships that don't result in backstabbing. The few women I've called close friends are confident, independent ladies who are too concerned with what makes them happy to bother trampling on what I've built, just for sport.

And these patterns didn't happen by accident. Growing up, I was never the kind of girl who dated my best friend's castaways. Even just telling me you had a crush on him was enough for me to avert my gaze. I was a loyal, devoted best friend and, I can honestly say, the only one in my group who never had a crush on Matt. (It helped that he smoked cigarettes and had the same name as one of my big brothers, but still--gaze averted!)

I remember it was a Thursday--ok, I didn't actually remember, I figured it was a Tuesday but I just checked the date on the email and a Thursday it was-- or as I'll be choosing to remember it hence forth: August 30th 2012,  a turd day.

Never could get the hang of turd days. 

Never saw it coming, either.
Of all the Brutis' that had ever Judased the accent grave kid, I really thought Rhi was on my team straight on into the apocalypse. She read a poem at my wedding. Introduced me to Harry Potter. Watched all three Lord of the Rings movies with me and laughed at almost all my insinuations to the homoeroticism. She sang a Tool song for me the first time we hung out. Spent a whole summer living at my house on Cape Cod. We catered together. No, run that tape back, we literally danced until September. She would add salt to the ketchup for our fries----fuckin jeen-yus, ked. 
Every time I get back to where she's living, it's like no time has passed at all.
This is the most broken hearted I've ever been.

I mean, she has been my best friend since I was 14 years old. I met her my first day of high school out by a bunch of bushes where she was smoking a cigarette. She was a sophomore with  long auburn hair and horn-rimmed glasses, plus the camouflage tights she was wearing clashed perfectly with our catholic school girl uniform.  Granted, I made fun of her to try and impress a fellow freshmen...um,  yeah...it went exactly like this:

Anyway, we joined Art club that year and Drama club too, and as a joke, we even joined the Spirit club. Mad at her as I am, I gotta admit that Rhi was the coooooolest. She introduced me to so many great local bands and had more Nirvana shirts than even Paul. Before I knew it, I was going over her house every night after school so I could stare sidelong at her brother as he played video games next to me.

And then I played this song and felt better about myself

Sometimes she would have me dress up as Farrah Fawcett and pretend to get caught sneaking into the Grammies, but that hardly matters anymore because on turd day of this year I received this email:

You see now why our friendship is over? I have been in love with Fox Mulder since this haircut:

When he said, "I think these children have been abducted by aliens," I was ready to hear what he thought.
Scully wasn't and Rhi wasn't either. When Fox eye-banged his partner in the same episode I didn't even get jealous. I knew his intentions were pure.

For science!

I was even able to be happy for him when he almost kissed Dana that one time just before she went into anaphylactic shock. Or the other time when he kissed her, but it was in the Bermuda Triangle so it didn't count and and besides, there were nazis. Or that other, other time when he kissed her but it just so happened that he had switched quantum states with another dude and eventually they switched back....

Basically, I only stopped watching the X-files because I realized I wanted two fictional characters to kiss and love each other and make babies and also meet aliens. Which is fine thing to think quietly to yourself but not terribly wise to spew in teenage tones at your parents during commercial breaks.

She's never moving out, is she. 

I wanted Fox to be happy, and if I thought Rhi was the girl for him, I would step out of the way. I did it for Scully and I could do it again. But Rhi isn't the right girl for him. Where was Rhi when Mulder was in a room full of Canadians all pretending to be Americans?
She was making out with Paul. Yes. She has been with Paul since the year I met her  and now they're getting married.

Back in the day, I would call her all the time to see if she wanted to hangout but no, she was busy making out with Paul. Who was I making out with? None of your business. Not Paul though. And not Fox Mulder either. So it hardly seems fair that she should get both. (Also, for the record I was likely watching Pokemon.)

She should stay away from Mulder and be happy that Paul makes great sauce, drums like a beast and puts up with the fact that she's trying to gank my main jump off. Look, I get it--Paul's not perfect--he doesn't want to read Harry Potter, he won't even let you name your dogs after Lily and James (for this I am not sorry) but neither would Mulder. You're living in a fantasy world Rhi, Fox is totally not even a dog person. Face it--the boy is mine.

You have read this article Cloud Atlas / Dana Scully / Earth wind and Fire / Fox Mulder / Marriage is gay / Overly attached girlfriend / Pokemon / Rage Comics / Rainbow Dash / Sassy gay friend / the Force / X files with the title Pokemon. You can bookmark this page URL http://trendcelebrity2014.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-boy-is-mine.html. Thanks!