I refuse to be a waitress forever

I interviewed for a job for after graduation and surprise, surprise, I didn't get it.  I know that it's because I'm terrible at interviews.  When I'm nervous and on the spot, I sort of black out and ramble.  I was ill-prepared to answer their questions and that's my fault, but I know I would have been a great fit for the position.

When I read my rejection email, I immediately thought, "I will never interview again."  Of course, that's impossible, and when I realized that one day I would have to do it again I thought, "I guess I'll apply for grad school?"  I suppose I wouldn't mind continuing my education, but I hate the thought of still having to wait tables as a part-time job.

I do and say a lot of embarrassing things as a waitress, so I thought to lighten the mood (and to promise myself that I will not be a waitress forever) I'd tell the world some stories of how totally awkward I am at work.

1) Balancing heavy food and drinks is just asking for trouble, really. 

-One time, I spilled an entire bowl of tomato soup on a rich old woman's white shirt. 

-Another time I dropped a full glass of Doctor Pepper on a man's lap.  

-I also poured water in a woman's purse once, but she didn't see it so I just pretended it didn't happen.

2) I'm an absolute mess at work.

-Once I leaned up against barbecue sauce somehow and was walking around with this big glob of bbq on my back for who knows how long...oh and it was in my hair too.

-I picked up a bottle of A1 by the lid when I was cleaning a table and go figure, it spilled all over me.  So I smelled like steak for about 6 hours and needless to say, I hate A1 now.

-If I had a dollar for every time I spilled salsa on me, I wouldn't even need a job.

  

3) I get tongue-tied far too often.

-I used to watch a lot of Spongebob Squarepants, and in the episode where Mr. Krabs' daughter takes over the Krusty Krab and sells salad instead of burgers, Spongebob doesn't know what a salad is and he pronounces them funny.  It's like sal-ad...hard to explain unless you've heard it, but anyway,  I frequently say salad wrong to customers on accident.  "Here's your caesar sal-ad!" *Walks away awkwardly and hopes no one notices*

-One time I tried to say, "Have a good day, ladies!" and it came out as "Have a good lady!"

-I got "no problem" and "you're welcome"mixed up a couple times and said "Your problem!" Yikes.

-My personal favorite awkward tongue twister:  A table with a family of maybe 3 kids ordered spinach and artichoke dip.  When I delivered it to their table  I said, "Here is your spinach and artichoke dick!"  I still will not say that menu item out loud. 

So, I'm discouraged about not getting that job, but at least I know that I'm determined enough to keep trying so I don't have to embarrass myself daily waiting tables.

A Year of Lasts

I have been telling myself that I'm ready for graduation since this semester began.  I've felt more than ready, really.  I have been counting down the days until I can live homework-free.  However this week is my sorority's initiation week and I've been through it a couple times already, but it's now hitting me that this is my LAST initiation week.
This year, I'll participate in my LAST Greek week.
I'll go to my LAST formal.
I'll attend my LAST homecoming basketball game (at least one where I can be all decked out in spirit).
I'll eat my LAST Fiesta Fuego, Subco, and Cyclone Salad meals.
I'll work at the French table for my LAST international food expo.
I'll buy my LAST Starbucks drink from Donna.
I'll go to my LAST adviser meeting with my amazing, inspiring French prof.
I'll write my LAST 10 page paper in 5 hours in the Rice Library, hopped up on caffeine.
I'll wave my LAST time at the waving bus driver.
I'll work my LAST hour in the Miller Foreign Language Lab.
I'll buy my LAST books in the campus store.
I'll take my LAST elevator ride to the third floor of the LA (because let's face it, I'm not taking the stairs).
I'll complain one LAST time about homework, even though homework is probably the reason I retained any information for the past four years.
I've already registered for classes for my LAST semester.

I know that I can always come back after graduation and relive some of these memories, but it won't be the same.  I'm ready to graduate and be done with school, but I'm still coming to terms with the idea of leaving my life here at USI.
Wish me luck in my year of lasts.

5 Things Overdressed Women Hate to Hear

I, for one, have always been overdressed.  I'm overdressed for dates, classes, even road trips or plane rides.  Although you may think this is something I can control, I assure you that it is not.  Here are a few things an overdressed woman gets tired of hearing:

1) "Let's go to the gym!"
Wait.  People wear tennis shoes to gym, right?  Will these converse be good enough?  No, I don't have a pair of those weird shorts with the underwear attached to them...do I need those?  Can I wear the spandex I normally wear under short dresses instead?

2) "Wear your sorority t-shirt on Wednesday."
Awh, man...I had a really cute outfit picked out for Wednesday. Plus, this t-shirt is too baggy on me and I'd rather show that I have a shape.

3) "Here at (insert restaurant name) our employees wear button up shirts and dress pants"
But are accessories allowed?  I need a little flair.

4) "We're going to Show-Me's, not a charity gala."
I'm sorry that I just bought this dress and it only looks cute when my hair is curled.

5) "Aren't you uncomfortable in those shoes?"
Of course I am...but have you seen them?

Maybe it's a bad thing to have a fashion sense.  Maybe it's crazy to always want to be dressed well.  Even if being always overdressed is seen as a bad trait, I will forever take pride in it because no one  is more powerful than a well-dressed woman.

Rock Show Culture

I've been going to rock shows since I was 13.  I've learned over the past 8 years that there is a specific set of rules one must follow when planning on attending a show.  Frankly, I feel like there are lots of people who are either forgetting the rules or never learned them-- so these are for you.

Rule #1: Attire
It's the day of the concert and you're overwhelmingly excited.  You're going to see your favorite band play live!  I understand, it's a thrilling idea.  However, do NOT wear a t-shirt with the band's name on it.  We all know you're a fan because you spent 40 dollars on a ticket to watch them play.  Wearing their name on your clothes is just overkill.

Rule #2: Line Etiquette
This is something you learn in kindergarten.  There's even a charming rhyme about this one simple rule: "No cuts, no buts, no coconuts." Seriously, it's just common courtesy.  Don't save spots in the line for your 5 friends who won't be showing up until an hour before the show.  The group behind you has probably been in line for 12 hours, so by saving spots, there's a possibility that you're ruining someone else's chance of getting barricade, making their effort pointless.  

Rule #3: Line Waiting
If you are staying the night outside the venue, you must make fun of the people who brought a tent, because they are less hardcore than you.  Although you may secretly be jealous of the fact that they have something to hide under from the rain while you're sleeping on the sidewalk, soaking wet and freezing.

Rule #4: Before the Doors Open
Your heart is racing.  There is one hour until they let you in the venue.  One person from your group must run to the car and put away all of your blankets, snacks, pillows and jackets.  Now one by one, make sure to run to the nearest McDonald's for the restroom because once you're on barricade, there's no potty breaks until the show is over.  This is prime time for people to try and cut in front of you in line.  Stand your ground.  Don't be afraid to be an asshole.

Rule #5: Entering the Venue
You don't need that purse.  Bringing in a purse means the security has to look inside, therefore prolonging your entrance.  (Hint: Girls, hook your car key to your bra strap and keep your phone in your front pocket).  Once you're past security, RUN to the pit. despite all the guards yelling, "DON'T RUN."  Grab the barricade and breathe a sigh of relief because your efforts were worthwhile.

Rule #6: Concert Courtesy
If you didn't get barricade, you didn't get barricade.  Please, do not try to squeeze your way up there.  Don't be that guy.

If you got barricade, hold on tight and prepare to have bruised arms tomorrow.

If you got barricade and you're a 6 foot tall man, COME ON.  Let the short ones in front.  You can see over everyone anyway.  Rude.

If you have a crush on the lead singer, spare yourself some embarrassment and don't yell "OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" every 2 minutes.  Girl we get it, you're thirsty.

If you really love a song, don't scream the lyrics with your horrible singing voice into the person's ear in front of you.

If you really love the band you're seeing, put your phone down.  Take a couple nice photos, then enjoy the concert.  What's the point of being there if you just record the whole thing?  I doubt you'll even watch the videos later.

Rule #7: Post-Show
Your head is spinning; your ears are ringing; you have this undying thirst for a gallon of water.  You feel like total crap but it was worth it in the end.  You've seen your favorite band play.  You've danced to their songs while they sing the lyrics that have gotten through your toughest days.  You spent a day with your friends and strangers that you know nothing about.  However you do know that you all came together for your equal love of one band.  It is a night where you feel like you finally fit in--a night where everything makes sense.

Shows are more than just a past time for misfit teens.  They are happy memories for the ones who need them.  Follow the rules, enjoy the shows and be grateful for times like these.  This is OUR culture.

High school vs. College

High school was such a simple time.  You'd wake up at 7:00 am 5 days a week, maybe work a part-time job or go to an extracurricular activity after school, then have 2 days off to do whatever you wanted.  I was a very busy teenager with school, dance, work (sometimes I'd keep 2 jobs at once) and homework, but I still wish I could go back to high school because everything was so easy.
A few things change when one goes off to college.  Here are a few things that changed about me, thanks to the increase in responsibility that college gave me.

1) I never do laundry

I look back and think about when I lived at home and there was a laundry machine FOR FREE at my disposal everyday and how I took advantage of that.  I would throw my clothes that I wore once in the hamper or even shirts that I tried on but didn't want to wear or hang up again.  I ended up needing to do laundry every 3 days because my hamper got full so fast.  It's the same with towels.   I used a towel ONE TIME before washing it.  Today I use the same towel for 2 weeks before washing it.  I can't believe my 15-year-old self.  Now that I'm living on my own with no laundry machine, I just do laundry when I'm running low on clean underwear (which isn't very often because I have a panty addiction, brought on by those darn sales at Victoria's Secret).

2) Leftovers are my favorites

This is another example of my carelessness in high school.  I never ate leftovers.  I wish I could slap teenage me upside the head and say, "Oh, you're too GOOD for leftovers? You don't like free food?  You think it tastes BAD the next day? Looks like you forgot to put your crown on today, Princess Zoë." Seriously, today if I found an Olive Garden box in my fridge with leftover pasta in it I'd be thanking the refrigerator gods.

3) Manicures are for special occasions

Being the high maintenance brat that I was, I had acrylic nails in high school and would refill them every 2 weeks.  I would also get a new set every couple months.  That's 20 dollars every 2 weeks and 45 dollars every couple months just for my FINGERNAILS.  Don't get me wrong, I'd still love to be able to do that but I have more important things to pay for...like food and gas and electricity.  I miss when my mum would give me a blank check and leave me at Hollywood Nails when I spent all the money I made at my two jobs on clothing.  If I asked mum for that today she'd be like "LOL no."

4) Online shopping comes second to paying bills

Just kidding, I still online shop...all the time.  Oops.  Some things never change I guess.

xoxo,

Princess Zoë  

Why I would rather not "free" my nipples

We've all heard of the "Free the Nipple" campaign.  However if you haven't, this is a feminist movement to decriminalize the female body so that women can go topless just like men.  Women are wanting to stop the sexualization of their bodies.

Being a feminist, I find it very fair to allow women to be topless in public if a man can do the same.  Ladies--I know you're jealous of a man's ability to take his shirt off on a hot summer day.

Seeing as I lived in France for a year, I was able to actually experience the feeling of equality while being topless in pubic at a nude beach.  Honestly it felt rather freeing, but only because I was in France, where seeing a woman's breast is like seeing a woman's wrist. In the United States, however, I feel sort of afraid of the idea.

Being a woman, I find it difficult to imagine women walking around half-nude and not getting harassed for it.  When a woman walks down the street in shorts and a t-shirt there's already a big chance that she's going to get cat-called by some creepy guy.  Guys, newsflash: No female likes to be cat-called. Ever.  So how bad would it get for a woman walking topless?

If one day we can all take our shirts off in public, it would be a fantastic day for sex equality. Nevertheless I feel like I would still not feel comfortable joining in because I do not believe that ALL men will ever see a woman's breast desexualized..not any time soon at least.

        

Marriage might be worth it

I've always been known to sort of run from commitment.  My siblings refer to me as a "strong independent woman" which is just a nice way of saying "the sister who will never get married."
For the most part I've become rather comfortable with the idea of living on my own.  When you're alone there's no one you have to clean up after and you can take up the entire bed without issue.
However, when I was sick last week I got to thinking about the downsides of living alone and thought maybe marriage MIGHT be worth it for a few reasons:

1) Someone to take care of you when you're sick
This was obviously my first thought.  Let's face it- it sucks living alone when you're feeling sick.  It would be nice to have someone get me a cold wash cloth for my forehead and chicken noodle soup.  Nobody likes getting out of bed with a fever..so that's where a significant other comes in handy.  In sickness and in health, right?

2) Someone to cuddle
I don't care who you are, warm bodies are needed to cuddle in specific situations.
Example a: When you're sad
Example b: When you're cold
Simply put, we'd all be happier if we just had someone to cuddle every once in a while.  I guess a cat could probably fulfill this one but if you're allergic to furry friends, a husband is your answer.

3) Someone to cook for
Personally, I love to cook.  It's very difficult to cook an entire meal for just one person though.  It would be nice to have another person to cook dinners for so I'm not eating my leftovers for a week straight.

4) Someone to do the dishes
This sounds lazy of me but if I'm cooking, the other one should be cleaning the dishes right?  I actually just hate doing the dishes and I'm sure any of my past room mates would tell you that's the truth.  Maybe a husband would be a helping hand?

5)Someone else to shop for
I love clothes.  I love buying them and putting together outfits but a lot of people say I have too many clothes of my own.  So why not use my addiction for good and make a well-dressed man out of it?  Seems legitimate to me.

6) Someone to hang out with me (even when I'm hormonal)
Sometimes I want to watch a movie with someone other than myself.  Sometimes all my friends are busy.  Sometimes I'm too grumpy for people to want to be around me but a significant other is there for better or for worse!  Built-in BFF.

With all of this being said, I'm still anti-marriage...but I could be convinced.

Studying Abroad: Progressive or Regressive?

For those of you who haven't been following my blog, I got home on May fourth from studying in Aix-en-Provence, France for ten months.  It was the most wonderful experience of my life and I wouldn't trade it for the world.  However, being home has left me feeling slightly out of place socially.  Everyone talks about how studying abroad changes your life for the good and IT DOES. It also confuses the hell out of you when you return to your home country.

Exhibit A: The most obvious of changes for me was the language.  I spent 10 months hearing French, speaking French, reading French, writing French and thinking in French.  I did use English as well, but the mixing of the two languages seemed to turn my brain into mush for about a month and a half at home.  I started to forget English words and only know them in French.  Then I forgot words in English AND in French, leaving me as this stammering idiot who forgot simple words on a daily basis.  Thankfully my brain is adjusted back to English now although I hope that doesn't mean that I've lost all of my progress in French. *sigh*

Exhibit B: My biggest fear before I left for France was that everyone was going to forget about me.  Though this is not the case, I still feel behind in my own social life.  Life at home doesn't pause while you're away, unfortunately, and this has been made very clear to me!  I don't know half of my sorority now, my french professor had TWINS (I missed the entire pregnancy), my friends have new boyfriends, some friends had babies, and loads of people graduated.  I feel like I was in a coma for a year or something.

Exhibit C:  Last but not least, studying abroad is slightly regressive in the way that ALL I can think about is France.  I'm that annoying meme of the girl in the hipster glasses that starts every story with "When I lived in Europe."  I'm constantly comparing things to my year abroad like, "This is nothing like the goulash in Hungary!" or "Wine is so much better and cheaper in France, trust me."  I also find myself recommending my friends to restaurants they can't actually go to at the moment.  "If you like this, you need to try Pizza Capri." I feel like a whiner as well, because I miss cheap public transport and the café atmosphere.  I'm constantly thinking of where I can travel next weekend even though it is no longer plausible to take a flight to Italy for 40 euros.  I'm still flabbergasted by the amount of obese people in wheelchairs at Walmart.  Living in France for ten months progressed my cultural views and made me a more well-rounded person, but it also sort of ruined me in the USA.

 

Time flies: Farewell (for now) to my study abroad pals

I'm utterly flabbergasted that my year in Provence is ending.  My mother arrives in Aix on Friday.  I'll show her around my city and we'll visit Bordeaux..and then we'll fly home on May 4.
I can remember every little detail down to the very second of my first day in Aix-en-Provence.  I can still feel the emotions of fear, excitement, anxiety, sadness, and absolute and total bliss that I felt on September 8.  As cliché as this seems, it honestly feels like yesterday..but it wasn't yesterday.  It was 8 months ago.  I've been in France for 8 months and it feels like only a day has passed.

Just as I did last semester, I'm writing this in dedication to the friends I made that kept me grounded and sane, made me laugh, made me cry from laughing, and made my second semester (or year, for some of you that I've been with since September) a memorable experience.  I wouldn't trade a single one of our inside jokes for the world.  I know I'll see you again after we all leave France because I love you guys too much to fully say "goodbye" to you.  So here's just a bunch of photos of how cool my friends are.

 Sarah

 Alyssa

 Rachel

 Emily

 Ben



Time flies when you're having fun.

How French people know that I'm not French

Everywhere I go in France, it seems like the french people KNOW that I'm not french.  I've had waiters and store owners approach me and talk to me in English even before I've said a word.  This is both annoying (because all I want to do is speak French with them) and mind boggling (because HOW DO THEY KNOW?).  I've had my mind wrapped around this subject for quite some time but it was highlighted in my brain as very important subject matter today when I was walking into town.  I was just walking, minding my own business, when a guy approached me and said, "J'ai l'impression que tu n'habites pas la bas." Tranlsation: "I have the impression that you don't live here."  I hadn't said a single word out loud yet today and I was already spotted as a foreigner.  HOW DID HE KNOW?! Naturally, I responded as if I was an insulted French woman, "uhh, non. J'habite ici à Aix," and stormed off to a sunny terrace to drink a café au lait and read my notes with serious interest on my face as if to give off the impression of being French.
After this incident I took a step back and analyzed myself in comparison to a French woman and found three tell-tale signs that signal that I'm foreign.

1) My physical appearance:
This is the most obvious of signs.  Personally, I have a hard time telling the difference between a French woman and a woman from the states or any other European country from their faces alone.  However, something very different between myself and a French woman is our clothes.  Of course!  I dress very obnoxiously compared to the French.  Don't get me wrong, I love my closet and every piece of clothing inside it (perhaps a little too much) but my pieces of clothing would not be found in the closet of a French woman.  Heck, even when I'm wearing an outfit with all neutral colors, my outfits are still a bit too weird for the French.  Also, another obvious physical distinction is the beloved hair bow I continue to sport in my hair everyday...despite the fact that I'm 21 years old.  The only French females wearing hair bows are ages 2-6.  After that it's just too childish.  But hey, I think they're charming. :)

2)My mannerisms:
You don't realize how differently you act until you think about it.  For example, it is customary for an American to smile at any human you pass and make eye contact with.  It's a reflex by now, honestly.  If I make eye contact with you, you're getting a smile whether you want it or not.  And trust me, I don't think the French people want you to smile at them.  I get plenty of weird looks from doing that but it's habitual so I always do.
Another thing I do that the French do not, is pardon myself while walking through a crowd of people or if my shoulder brushes against another persons shoulder when I pass them.  Honestly, I have never heard a French person apologize for running into me, while I'm over here screaming, "DÉSOLÉE, PARDONNEZ-MOI" because I feel seriously bad for running into them.  Apologizing seems like a wasted effort to the French, I guess, which doesn't make them rude necessarily, but makes me kind of annoying.

3)My response time:
If, by some act of God, a French person doesn't assume I'm foreign already for the above reasons and speaks to me in French, he/she will know when I open my mouth.
I'm confident in my French for the most part and I've made so much progress with it this year, but I still doubt myself before I speak.  I understand what the French person is asking me, but I have to re-translate it again in my head to make sure and think about an appropriate response before saying it..therefore making my response time slower.  That extra 2 seconds it takes to reassure myself, tells the French person *SHE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND* so he/she switches to English.  This is a nasty habit that I hope to kick soon.  98% of the time, I know exactly what to say but I don't say it fast enough.  That's just the learning process I suppose.

Even when they speak to me in English, I still force my non-fluent French onto them by responding in French until they follow along.  I get my way eventually.  Hopefully in a year or two when I'm living in France again, I'll be able to tell you all that these coincidences have stopped occurring, but I'm sure they'll never fully stop unless I put more effort into morphing myself into a French woman.  Even though I'd love to be French, I'm just not, and I love myself too much to change SO GET USED TO IT FRANCE.

Modesty in the United States

I wanted to approach a topic that's been in the back of my mind for most of the time I've been in Europe: Modesty.

The majority of Americans know that nudity is not an issue in Europe (e.g., topless beaches, naked art) but there are other immodest qualities that give Europe its charm that also seems to make Americans uncomfortable.

Other than nudity, one example is the use of cuss words.  This seems like it's not a big deal, especially for the younger generations in the states.  Most people cuss after every other word (guilty!) and that's becoming normal vocabulary.  However, how many cuss words are allowed on television?
Don't strain yourself, I've comprised a list.
It is acceptable to say:
1)A** but NOT a**hole. Not sure why.
2)Damn
3)Hell
4)Bastard

It is not acceptable to say:
1)Sh**
2)F***
3)C***
4)P***y

If you're wondering why some of these are deemed acceptable, ask the FCC, because I have no idea.
Not only are the words on television censored, but also every song on the radio!  Is there a single radio station that doesn't change or bleep out words? That song by Cee-lo Green about his gold-digging ex-girlfriend was definitely NOT titled "Forget You."  Seriously, think about it!
However, the point of this exercise was to direct attention to the fact that songs on the radio are NOT censored in Europe.  I don't watch t.v. here but I'm willing to bet that it isn't.  There are also no mom's causing ruckus over it either.  Kids will hear bad words.  It's inevitable.

My second example of the prudence in the United States is strangely enough the lack of use of the word "toilet."
This sounds hilarious but it's SO true.  If I was to ask someone at a restaurant where the toilet was, it would make me, and the person I'm asking, feel very uncomfortable.  I feel like the only time you should use the word "toilet" is to tell a plumber that your toilet needs fixing.
Actually one time at a restaurant in France, my friend asked for the "salle de bain" or "bathroom" and the waiter laughed at her and was like "Why?  Do you need to take a shower?"  Why do we try to avoid saying the word "toilet?"
The room with all of the toilets is called a restroom...why?  You're not taking a nap in there.  Everyone knows what we're doing, yet we feel weird saying it.  Heck, my french professor last semester would just be like "Je dois faire pee-pee."  What professor at home would blatantly tell you that she has to pee?

These are only two examples but I think they make my point.  Why is it that Americans are so uptight?  Or are Europeans just very easy-going?  I guess you can form your own opinion.

Don't forget to do what you love

Recently I decided to start going to Catholic mass every week again.  Something made me miss the community of it.  It's comforting seeing the same happy faces every week, doing the same things as you.   I also always liked going and hearing the homily...basically getting advice on how to be  a good person is needed in my life I think.
This blog is definitely NOT about me becoming some born-again christian who was "saved" or to tell you all to go to church because "ya'll need JESUS."
I started going back because I wondered why I ever stopped going in the first place.  I liked going. Why would I have stopped?
While in Mass last night, listening to the choir sing every hymn in perfect harmony, I was reminded of the large portion of my life I spent singing in my own church choir.  We had a nun who ran it at Sacred Heart named Sister Gloria-- sweetest woman EVER-- and she would give me solos to sing during communion and praised me as if I had the voice of an angel.  Trust me, I wasn't that good, but I had so much fun with it!  After graduating high school and moving out of my parents' home, I rarely found time to sing.  I didn't want to in my dorm because my whole floor would hear me.  Sometimes I'd belt out my favorite song in the car, but really I just stopped singing altogether.  It took me until sitting in mass last night to realize how much I missed it.  So do you know what I did?  I sang in the shower.  LOUDLY.  I was a little nervous that I'd irritate my neighbors...but if they are allowed to scream and run down the hallways at 3am on a Tuesday, I think I should be allowed about 20 minutes of bad singing every night, don't you?
And there are other things that I stopped doing that were once things I loved.  Like writing poetry for example.
Why do we stop doing the things we enjoy when we get older?  Is it because we don't have the time?  Everyone is so worried about wasting time but I think if you're filling your days with satisfying activity, your day is not wasted!  Therefore I'm going to take more time out my day to sing horribly, do the time step, write a poem, cook something interesting, and love each day a little bit more.

6 months down, 2 months to go.

Clearly I haven't kept up with my blogging every week thing.  I apologize to all two of you whom actually care about and read my blog...seriously how do you go on without reading my witty takes on life in France every week?!  Bless your hearts.
But seriously,  it's been a while since I've written about Aix-en-Provence so I thought I'd summarize a bit now.  Today marks the 2-month countdown to my return to the states.  Nuts, right?  It's going to be so hard to leave this beautiful town but alas, I cannot live in my fantasy world forever.
Over the past 6 months I've spent here, I've grown to love many-a-thing as well as create a deep boiling hatred for another.

Something I love:  Eating lunch outside on a breezy spring day in a park or on a majestic fountain.
Something I hate:  The swarm of exactly one million pigeons that surrounds you whilst you eat your lunch.

Something I love:  The smell when you walk past one of the many Savon de Marseille shops or Lavande boutiques that makes your nose ever so happy.
Something I hate:  The cigarette smell that automatically re-enters your nostrils after you've passed said shops, which is created by the crowds of oh-so posh young Aixois who look so damn cool but smell so damn strongly of Marlboro.

Something I love:  The "Joie de vivre" attitude of the French.  Who doesn't love wasting time drinking a shot of black coffee talking over deep tormenting issues?...or just starting class late everyday?
Something I hate:  The "Joie de vivre" attitude when trying to get something done.  Oh..the poste has a 2 hour lunch break today...how sweet..I guess I'll just sit here and get swarmed by flocks of pigeons for the next 120 minutes because waking all the way home is NOT happening.

Something I love:  The fact that the university trusts that I'll retain my knowledge without giving me 3 hours of homework everyday..instead they give me zero.
Something I hate:  Oh wait..I actually hate that because guess what, Sciences-Po? NOT RETAINING ANYTHING.

Something I love:  The temperate weather here in the south of France.  While everybody is freezing back at home, it's a nice 60 degrees in Aix.
Something I hate:  The fact that now if it's 50 degrees or less I feel obligated to wear a heavy coat and scarf because otherwise I'll just freeze to death.

Something I love:  HAVING AN H&M RIGHT HERE AT MY DISPOSAL.
Something I hate:  Spending all of my money at H&M...

Something I love: Baguettes.  Seriously what is life without baguettes? I don't think I can go back to that squishy stuff we call bread at home.
Something I hate:  The fact that baguettes are stale after a day...so when I buy it, I have to eat the whole thing that day.  Either that, or suck it up and get lock-jaw tomorrow.

Damn, I love France.
And I hate that I have to leave in two months.

How I Recovered from Homesickness Abroad

Over the holidays I felt a SERIOUS type of homesickness.  I honestly wanted to drop everything and go home. I'm assuming I felt this way because most of the friends I had made for the semester went home AND it was Christmas...the happiest holiday filled with family and laughter and tradition and food..and I spent it sick in a hotel room in London.  If that doesn't make someone homesick I'd wonder whether or not that person even has a home.
However after about 3 weeks of legitimately HATING France and everything about it, I started school again, made new friends, and remembered why I loved Aix-en-Provence and on a larger scale, Europe.
When I was freaking out about my desperate need to return home, my friends and family got the worst of it.  I'm apologizing here for my constant complaining and not believing you when you'd say, "once you start school again, I know you'll be happy again."  You know who you are. Thank you for dealing with my melodramatic ass.
Also, I received gifts from my best friend Alyssa for my birthday/Christmas that were basically the epitome of Zoë in a box and those presents meant so much to me!!  Knowing that I still have friends back home who love me and think of me (even if we talk much less than usual) gives me the strength to see the world in a positive light and make the most of my time abroad!
I just got another package from home today that was my mother's Valentine's gift complete with gummy Krabby Patties and a Nerds Rope (my favorites).  Also inside the box was a LOT of gifts from my sister Haviland for my birthday/Christmas that were highly reminiscent of my childhood.  There was a DVD of The Pagemaster-one of our favorites growing up- a black tattoo choker with a mood stone, and some vanilla hand cream and soap.  However the best gift of all, and I'm not sure how she pulled it off, was an EXACT replica of the white blanket I slept with every night as a kid.  I stole my original white blanket from my mom when I was like, 3, and slept with it up until it was a bunch of tatters with patches and a backing so it wouldn't fall apart...I think I was maybe 7 or 8.  That thing was my lifeline.  To make this gift even more perfect, she had my Mamanana wash it and keep it at her house until it was shipped to me so it would smell like her house.  If you know me at all, you know that my grandparents' house is my absolute favorite place to be.  The 5-year-old Zoë inside me is crying with happiness (and the 21-year-old Zoë on the outside cried quite a bit too).  As juvenile and silly it seems to receive a "White Blankey" for my 21st birthday, it was exactly what I needed as a reminder that even though I'm over 4,000 miles away from home, I have an amazing family that loves me to return to and I couldn't be more blessed!

In addition, I'm completely over all the homesick feelings so thank you again to everyone who supported me. Actually I want to stay in Europe forever now.

"You're not having a heart attack."

Okay I want to address a very large personality flaw of mine, not for condolences or advice, but to mainly get it all out there and hopefully someone reading this will feel less crazy after doing so.
I am a hypochondriac. Probably the worst one I know.  For those of you who do not understand this term, it is easier explained as "health anxiety."
I know exactly when I became a hypochondriac actually.  I was a normal, careless, happy child until one day I passed out while serving in Catholic mass in the fifth grade.  I'm not sure what triggered the fear, because I had passed out before that incident and it didn't scare me.  However, after that happened I was basically unable to attend mass without feeling like I was going to pass out.  I danced all my life and performed in front of people every year but after my fifth grade year I developed this awful case of stage fright, making me think I was going to faint on stage.  It started out as a severe irrational fear of fainting, until a month or so later we read, The Hatchet in class.
If anyone has read The Hatchet, you know that in the beginning of the novel, an airline pilot has a heart attack and crashes his plane in some unknown territory, setting up the plot of the story.  When we read that chapter aloud in class, we also talked about the symptoms and signs of having a heart attack.  Literally every night of my fifth grade year after we read The Hatchet I gave myself heartburn from worrying that I was going to have a heart attack.  Then the heartburn made my fear so indescribably horrifying that I couldn't sleep!  I'm sure I about drove my mother nuts waking her up at night thinking I was dying.  She'd just give me Tums and tell me to relax and eventually the heartburn went away and I'd get over it..until the next night.
In my health class that year, we had to write 2 papers over diseases or disorders, but if I thought about a disease for over a minute, I automatically had it so I bent the rules and wrote my papers over dry skin and chapped lips.  I'm not sure how I got away with that.
Another thing I remember is watching something on television about a schizophrenic and then forever being afraid that I would go crazy.
In the sixth grade, we read a book about a blind person and then I was terrified that I was going to lose my sight.
In the seventh grade, a girl in my town became paralyzed from some sort of disorder and then I feared that I would one day wake up and not be able to move.
My sophomore year, a friend of mine told me her dad got in a wreck with another woman who had a seizure while driving on the highway. Aaaaaand guess who was afraid to drive on highways until last year?
The worst part is, I still fear that the same things are going to happen to me! I STILL have fits of fear when I get chest pains or something goes numb.  I also have a problem with searching illnesses on webMD, thinking it would make me feel better, but it always makes me feel MORE like I'm dying.
Another thing is that I always know I'm just being anxious, and even if I tell myself "Zoë, you're fine" a million times a minute, I still think I'm dying!
I have to message my sister or best friend usually every time I freak out just to have them tell me, "You're not having a heart attack/stroke" and distract me from my thoughts to get over it.
I'm going to be honest, even typing about these things is giving me anxiety.  I know that my sister has this problem and I think my uncle as well, though I'm not sure how severe.  I wonder if this is something hereditary and it was bound to happen, or if the whole thing was triggered by fainting one morning because I didn't eat breakfast.
If it's not hereditary, I REALLY regret not eating breakfast.
However, there's nothing I can do now except try to freak out less (which I really have improved a lot since the fifth grade).  I hope the other hypochondriacs out there got a laugh out of this because you know you're just as ridiculously obsessed with your health as me and you can't help it.

Here's a clip from the film The Switch with Jason Bateman and Jennifer Aniston that I found particularly humorous concerning hypochondria.

"Will you regret not buying this?"

During my two-and-a-half week long Christmas break, I traveled to Switzerland, London and Dublin with my boyfriend.  To my surprise, I ended up spending ALL of the money I had saved for living this semester in Aix.  I came home with 71 USD, having left with 850 USD.  That means I spent almost 800 bucks in 2 weeks.  I couldn't figure out what I spent all of my money on because most all of my food was paid for and all of our planned activities were bought ahead of time.  I was severely confused until I was talking to one of my friends here in Aix about it and she asked me, "Did you buy a lot of souvenirs?" No..I really didn't buy many souvenirs. Then it hit me. The reason why I returned to France with an overstuffed suitcase and an empty wallet - Shopping.

When we were in Dublin, both of us got pretty sick and couldn't do much and we wound up on the shopping strip two days in a row.   Naturally I went a little bezerk...I mean there was a two-story TopShop that was connected to a Mango, next door to a two-story H&M and River Island.  It's impossible for me to talk myself out that kind of situation.  

And that's what I'm focusing this blog entry around.  While I was knee deep in piles of unorganized, 50% off clothing in TopShop, I overheard a couple of girls trying to "talk themselves out" of their future purchases.  It made me crack a smile because of how truly often we say the same old phrases to each other (or to ourselves) while contemplating in a shopping center.  The conversation went as follows:

"Do you REALLY need another pair of shoes?"

"Well..no I don't NEED them, but I don't have any in this color."

"Do you have room for more shoes in your closet?"

"No..but I can make room."

"Will you regret not buying these shoes?"

"They're half off!"

"In that case you might as well buy them!"

"You're right these are a good deal...lets go look at the dresses."

And the same thing repeats itself ten minutes later when something else catches your eye.

The girls conversing were humorous to me because I had literally just asked myself the same questions about a long sleeve romper I'd found (which by the way, I bought).  I have come to the conclusion that this thought process of trying to talk yourself out of buying something is actually more like a ritual to make yourself feel better for spending money on something you don't need.  Why do we even kid ourselves?  I know I'm not only speaking for myself when I say that when I enter a store I'm absolutely there to buy something.  What's the point of shopping if you don't leave with new clothes? That would just be a torturous waste of time.  So quit fooling yourself.  Asking those same questions again will not change your mind.  

I know I'm obviously the pot calling the kettle black, but if you honestly don't want to spend money, don't go shopping where the mannequins and the advertisements tempt you to spend money.  It's that simple.  It's silly to think we have to reassure ourselves that buying something for ourselves is not a bad thing to do.  We deserve a little something every once in a while!

Personally, I probably don't deserve new clothes anymore but..what can ya do.  An addiction is an addiction. 

Another chance to get it right

As I believe I've mentioned in previous New Year's blog posts, resolutions are just cliché ideas that people get in their heads to make them feel better about themselves for the first 3 weeks of the new year.
However.
I have had the same resolution every year since the 8th grade and I think it's time to actually put it in motion.
What is this resolution in which I so badly have needed to achieve for 7 years?
TO GO TO THE GYM.


L O L NO. Never. Just kidding,

It's also not to eat healthy or to read more.  It's much more difficult.

You see, I have this problem of focusing on negative things.  My life can be seemingly perfect and yet I find reasons to be upset. I'm a pessimist, I said it.  "Being positive" is way harder than it sounds.  I can't just wake up and decide to ignore the negative stuff.  I'd need some of Lisa Simpson's smiley face pills to achieve that.
If anyone has any ideas or methods that work....please share. And help me look on the bright side of life.