hello, world: January 2010

I don't understand miracles and happy things that happen to good people and all of that. i understand irony.

so when i announce to the world that i never get sick, and therefore am not getting a flu shot, and then get sick the day after everyone gets their flu shots, im an ass. but when i announce to the world that im going to go move to a foreign country and get away from the mundane the palid the baren and go live LIFE, and then I get sick when I get there*... That's when I think; yeah, there must be a god actively doing this to me right now. I just hope there's a god so he can really be enjoying a good laugh right now. Cuz if I can make god laugh well shyet gawd damn! I'm generally much better at making people angry, but maybe it would open my eyes to a new calling... in french the word smile and laugh are almost the same - sourire and rire, respectively. thought id throw that out there. anyway whatever i am going to do its probably not going to involve being a corporeal mechanic, just hoping for pts NOT to die rather than working to have someone LIVE happier or smile or whatever...

pictures will come when i actually found a place to live and my mother can mail me my entire sack of electronics shit i left at home for connecting and charging and converting every heavy piece of electronic I brought. for now, im just ill, homeless, and wasting your time with my delusional sick hobo musings.

*Other possible source of irony here***: I stopped smoking after leaving the clinic, where its not allowed, and before going to France, where its basically required. So God makes me sick after I stop smoking. He probably thought 'why would she do that before going to France?? the idea that i created such an idiot makes me sick' so instead he made me sick. well for your information god i really only stopped because cigarettes in boston are rapeass expensive.

my host's reaction to the situation: 'Cee you drop zis bad zsing you gain enozeur'** and he did one of those french pout-n-pouf things with his mouth, while a hand previously near the head flimsily dropped apathetically at the wrist (with a cigarette between the fingers) accompanied by a head tilt and eyebrow lift; vatevehr.

LOVE love LOVE the French.

**Dramaticization. This conversation happened in French. Or half french (him) and half charades (me. involved fake smoking, pointing at throat, pointing at sky...).

***OR MAYBE.... Did I at some point sign over all rights to my thoughts, mind, and body for the rest of my life when I agreed to work at the Cleveland Clinic and they're totally wreaking the most hardcore intensely subtle revenge known to man of all time???? IS CLEVELAND CLINIC.... GOD???? til next time...

First morning..waking up looking out the WWOOF house's window...

Tiny village... built around the 1300s... maybe 9 people live there year round, 20 in the summer.

You know it's technically a village because there's a church!

Can you see the ocean? This is from the top of the mountain that is corsica.

Hanging out, having lunch...

Playing the game where you have to guess what famous person is written on your forehead based on answers to yes/no questions... I was andy warhol. Got it at "social, but awkward"

Le petit boxer!

The WWOOF house's common room...

Heading to work...

Work break hangin with our buddy, l'ane.

Picking figs on the way home from the fields....

2 different kinds, both totally delicious in completely different ways....

mmmmm. Imogen (the blond curly one) is an art major at u.edinburgh - she spent an entire year painting nothing but figs. She was in HEAVEN!

Hanging out around the house...