Paris is my Mecca

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...