28 posts tagged “paris”

Last night was amazing... it was so wonderful to take the boat at night. We drank wine on the small island near the boats and I talked to a couple of French guys who were smoking hash on the banks of the island. They let me smoke with them after I told them it was my last night in Paris. We talked for a bit...

The boat ride was beautiful. We sat on the top of the boat and floated passed all of the important buildings and monuments in Paris, shooting the breeze. I really enjoyed it. It seemed like my classmates were glad to see me come along, asking me why I never hung out with them very much. One girl has a course with me next quarter and tells me she is excited to be able to get to know me in a different context. A few other girls were being really flattering and told me they'd like to know where I live and things so we can get together. Who would have thought?

Anyway, I better pack my laptop and go, so until we meet again, Paris.

-ukifune

Last night I packed up a bunch of my stuff because I was a little worried it wasn't all going to fit and I wanted to give it a try so I wouldn't be surprised right before departure. I felt very nostalgic refolding all my cheapo hostess dresses and sorting through a bunch of souvenirs from Tokyo. Sigh... I have so much clothes though... it's ridiculous. My room mate couldn't believe I was able to fit so much in my suitcase, hehe I have packing skills!

Today I took my Marcel Proust final exam. I only read about 20% of the required reading... but I wrote a pretty good essay I think! Professor is easy going and says that we're all going to get 4.0s... I hope so!

Tomorrow is the big linguistics/literary theory/philosophy cumulative exam... I really, really enjoyed that class, and did well on the mid-term exam, so I hope it's not all ruined by a terrible job on the test tomorrow, which is going to be notably more difficult than the one I took today.

After the class is over, a bunch of people in the program want to take a boat ride on the Seine together (I was invited via Facebook, but Lisa is going so... I've agreed). I took a boat down the Seine last summer in the day time on my last day. This time the plan is at night so it's worth a go for me! It's quite beautiful at night, Paris. We're going to meet up at Pont Neuf, probably drink a bunch of cheap wine, and hop on the boat. Sounds like fun to me!

I fly out of this place the next morning, to London, then it's straight to immigration in Seattle! woo

The water pours quickly into the drain; I let it run until it reaches its highest possible temperature. I undress completely, let my hair down and it falls to my waist. I examine every corner of my body, notice changes, pick at scars, distress over imperfections, and pose in the mirror. My skin feels firm; it has goose bumped due to the cold. I brush my teeth nude, passing time, waiting for the water to heat up.

For the first ten minutes of my bath, I like to sit under the steaming hot water to relax my muscles and become accustomed to the temperature. I like the water to be very hot, so hot as to turn my dull olive skin rosy pink upon contact.

This late night ritual is my passage to slumber, I do it every night. All the stresses of the day that have knotted my muscles, all the scents of the city that have stuck on my body, the perfume, cigarette smoke, wash down the drain as I scrub everything off, oils and odors, and are replaced with some gentle flowery fragrance. All the thoughts that have collected in my head can be washed out of my hair; it is long and tangled at first, but smoothed now with hot water’s help.

They’re quite lengthy showers and I stay under the water until my body is too tired and relaxed to continue washing. The last thing I do is wash my face, removing some of the makeup still on my eyes. I step out onto the cold dry ground, at the same time snatching my bath robe and tying it tight. I wrap my hair with a towel and insulate the warmth of my body.

I go back to my room, I like to put on solo piano music and let my hair drip a little bit, allow my body to dry off. Now I feel clean, soft, relaxed, at ease. My bed seems inviting and comfortable; my thoughts wander towards slipping between the sheets and drifting off to sleep.

But the same thought of the bed brings me ill news. No one is there to lay with me, no one to enjoy the delicate notes of the piano with me, no one there to run his fingers across my flower-scented skin. Some nights, I feel my body needs more than the satisfaction of being cleansed. I need something.

I reach for needles, for scissors, and tear at the tender skin. Bright red blood screams at me, oozing out, I taste it, it’s sweet, so sweet, warm, alive.

Today our class went to visit Centre George Pompidou and went to the modern art museum there. It was awesome!! Modern art is pretty cool, all sorts of exciting things, definitely cooler than the Louvre. I enjoyed it... we saw some stuff from the dada movement and also a bunch of Picasso. I enjoyed the Surrealist stuff too. My professor is super smart so he's a pretty good tour guide (although sometimes he is really slow).

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and our class is having a little Thanksgiving lunch party, except we won't be eating turkey or cranberry sauce; we are on assignment to make French dishes. Some people are bringing main dishes, others, side dishes, some will bring cheese and others baguettes. A few among us said we couldn't cook very well (including yours truly). They were designated to bring cutlery and paper products. My job, however, is to bring the wine. Easy enough!

I went and bought a couple bottles just now and it was really fun. I wasn't allowed to go to the Monoprix (chain super market) to buy the bottles, my French teacher told me I had to go to a wine shop. So I went around the neighborhood now and finally found one. It was awesome! I cheated a little bit and I am bringing a bottle of champagne too. I'm so excited!

J ai besoin de parler de quelque choses.. I need to write about a few things that I have yet to address in this blog.

It's been almost two years since my mom died.

My mom.

I never was super close to her in the same way many girls are close with their mothers. I never talked to her about personal problems, I always dealt with them myself. I always wrote about them I hoped the invisible people on this internet world or the black empty chambers of my dairies would accept them and sympathise.

I never really dealt with the pain of her death. I don't even know if I did feel pain at her death, I could barely cry. It feels like just yesterday she died. I feel like just yesterday her blank, white dead icy face was presented to me, about to be buried.

I feel like just yesterday I was thrown into this in empty independent life, this dream world where no one told me what to do and all of happiness was there for my enjoyment. I REJOICED in the idea. I saw that no one was there to judge me any longer and I could do whatever I wanted. I only wanted to please her, a little bit, not much. I didn't really listen to her or anything.

I am still in pain. I think so. I am not sure. I think that it's true I'm numb. I've been numb since the first day I stole her painkillers and lay in bed, unable to feel my body, unable to comprehend any of the signals my brain was sending to my heart. My heart has been sleeping with drugs and the eyes of others.

I haven't felt anything since she became sick. That day she stepped into my room and told me she had lung cancer. I was sitting at my computer and didn't say anything to her. She walked away. I didn't even think about it, I didn't have anything to say about it. She was going to die. It was the beginning of it all.

I am always talking about myself, my life, my life, when really I just don't want to think about that life that has been taken away from me, the life I could have had with my mom, the life of my mother, the woman who took care of me and brought me to this world and taught me beautiful things like Arabic and the religion of Islam. The woman who told me to take care of myself, to educate myself, to never rely on men to help me in my life. I have done the complete opposite of all her wishes. She told me, don't become a writer, it's a lonely difficult life (she was a writer herself) and I should do better for myself, marry a doctor so that my life would be safe and taken care of. She really cared about me, really. I think so.

Even though I became "too American" and did all the terrible things that good Arab girls shouldn't do, spending the night at other people's houses, never calling home. I don't know if I am just holding onto the tragedy of my mother's death because it somehow justifies my terrible behavior and harmful activities I partake in, the terrible destruction of my body and the erasure of my name.

I don't know what it is. Something heavy is still weighing at my heart and no matter where I go, no matter how many cigarettes I smoke or pills I take, it doesn't disappear. This weight. No matter how many meals I skip or glasses of water I force down my throat, no matter how many pounds I lose or things I buy, it doesn't detract from that weight. No matter how many points I get in my classes, no matter how many men are interested in me, no matter how many countries I go to, languages I learn, I am still this disgusting body with terrible thoughts.

I don't know how it will go away. I have tried everything I can think of. What do I do? I dwell on the past. I never know what to do.

Au cours de ce jour de pluie, je crois que j'ai pu entrevoir dans une petite fenêtre qui m'a permis de voir une nouvelle couche de Paris, une plus profond, plus âgés couche.

Je suis allée au bureau de poste pour poster une lettre. Après cela, j'ai décidé de revoir un magasin que j'ai visité il ya quelques jours, près de Saint-Lazare. Je approchait de la station, puis j'ai noté qu'il serait impossible de trouver cette boutique parce que ce jour-là, j'avais pris des drogues, et maintenant je ne pouvais pas se rappeler les routes. Merde!!

Mais il n'etait pas une probleme parce que j'ai trouvé un autre petit magasin. Dans cette boutique, il y avait quelques femmes et beaucoup de très beaux vêtements et sacs. Immédiatement, je suis tombée amoureuse avec un sac que j'ai vu plus haut sur une étagère. Je cherche le sac parfait pour moi, au Japon et à Paris, et j'ai enfin trouvé!

MAIS ATTEND!

もうにどと放さないから。。。
So I have been enjoying Paris as I soon have to say goodbye to and depart the city.

I did a lot of walking the past couple days, I went outside yesterday intent on posting a postcard to my friend's mom, but then I smoked what was left of my last joint from Amsterdam, and I got sidetracked in the cold, biting weather, walking around aimlessly for a few hours. I ended up walking through a lovely park, Park Monceau, which is different than most French gardens, and boasted many beautiful architectural features (a rotunda, pillars, etc) and lovely walking paths. Despite the cold, it was sunny, so I enjoyed seeing the light shine on things. I ended up walking all the way to Gare Saint Lazare and then took the metro from there home.

I realised recently that not only had I been denied the delights of sunlight in Tokyo, but also when I was living in Seattle; it was so overcast the majority of the time that I rarely saw shadows nor glow.

I've been also listening to various music, some of the top hip hop songs on the charts in the US right now (note: I love hip hop and rap, it was what I listened to in high school, along with Electronica, Arabic Pop, and Experimental Rock, quite a mix, these days I almost strictly listen to Japanese music). Whatever You Like is my favorite song right now (I know I am probably really late in listening to it, but I love it, and the video is cute too, because I used to work fast food).

To my room mate's disdain, Lisa and I have been hanging out pretty much non-stop for the past two days... fun adventures. After our field trip to the Picasso museum on Wednesday, we bought a bottle of cheap champagne and went to my house and drank it all. She said that she likes champagne, I'm glad! We drank it like soda and then went with my house mate Patricia to the Champs-Elysees. They were supposed to turn on all the Christmas lights that night, so we went and stood in the middle of the busy avenue, and waited.... suddenly, the streets were lined with blue (for the European Union) from the ferris wheel at the end to the Arc de Triomphe.

We went and bought another bottle of champagne and went home and drank more. I think Jessica thinks I am a "bad influence" for Lisa just because she's younger than me. It's not like I am pouring champagne down Lisa's throat. I dunno. Jessica is a bitch and I think she is actually the social retard, not me. She is so loud when she gets excited.

Yesterday was beaujolais day... you are supposed to drink the beaujolais wine that is sold that day. Lisa and I had plans to go see Sven Väth, this German DJ, with Patricia. Lisa came over to my house after school (school was so slow yesterday) and we smoked a little weed, waiting for the late night to hit. We started drinking the wine, then we took some vodka shots with Patricia (nasty Absolut Pear, not recommended). And then we went out to the club which was not very far from Opera.

It was crazzzyyyy good. I danced all night. So I have been having a lot of fun lately...

I did do a little cocaine though...

Literary quote of the day:

Poetry is, in short, the universal art of the mind, which has become essentially free, and which is not fettered in its realization to an externally sensuous material, but which is creatively active in the space and time belonging to the inner worlds of ideas and emotion.
From The Philosophy of Fine Art by Friedrich Hegel, German Philosopher

School was good today. My French teacher didn't ask too much out of me (I hate speaking French). After French class I have a long break, so I caught the metro to l'Institut du Monde Arab (Institute of the Arab World) to take a look at the Napoleon in Egypt exposition (which was awesome!) and the permanent collection in the museum. It was so cool... the intricacy of some of the art was amazing, some of the old clothes and trinkets, every day household objects... so old, so beautiful! I have to do a small French presentation on Thursday so I will talk about IMA.

The institute was not so far from where I take classes, so I decided to walk back instead of taking the metro. I passed by a few Arabic restaurants and decided to sit down and have some lunch. It wasn't my mom's cooking, but it was still nice to have some basics. I chatted a bit with the restaurant dude, listened to some Elissa music... and walked through the Latin quarter back to my class.

My literary criticism class is getting better and better by the day. Today we were introduced to Hegel and his view of aesthetics and fine arts. After a long explanation of his system, he talked about different art styles and forms. He mentioned three types: Symbolic (Oriental art, religious architecture, Pyramids), Classical (Greek art, human body sculpture), and Romantic arts. He broke down Romantic arts into Painting, Music, and Poetry. Those three were in ascending order of spirituality. Painting is a very sensual art form, it's all about images and vision and color and light. Music also uses the external senses, it needs the medium of sound. Poetry (writing, prose, novels) on the other hand, is closer to the spiritual realms of religion and philosophy because it expresses pure ideas in the mind, doesn't rely on images or sound (or any senses) to create ideas (see the literary quote of the day, above). I really felt and understood this... I've always appreciated language arts more than painting and music, and I finally figured out why. Thank you dear Professor and Mr. Hegel! note: In the end, Hegel dismisses art in general, claiming art is dead, and that we shouldn't bother creating art, but rather focus on the science of art (art/literary theory and criticism), i.e. read his books instead.

P.S. I got my mid-term exam back too, 3.9 baby! My first exam in ages... I guess my brain isn't completely mush after drinking all summer.