My how things never change

I was dumped recently. It took me by surprise, and I was crushed, to be honest.  I accepted that this relationship probably wasn't going to last, but man did I want it to last. I really liked him even as I felt insecure while simultaneously feeling out of his league. It was a bizarre mix of feelings.  Anyway, I'm a clinger and a wallower. I don't move on quickly or easily. I linger in the past and wail about what happened.  What was fascinating to me was the similarities of how I feel now and how I felt about Patrick.  I wrote a post recently about my inability to let go, which I will post below. I then saw the post from October 2014 and realized that I could've written that very post in November 2017.  Nothing has changed in my mental state except that name that I'm clinging to.  It was eye opening to see that.  I'm not sure how to fix it. I know that awareness helps.  I feel like I'm in the fight of my life right now. I somehow have to retrain 40 years of negative thinking on my part by using the very brain that is wallowing in the muddy thoughts. 

Letting go (11/23/2017):
I have a terrible pattern of clinging to the past. I linger and dwell on things that can't be changed.  I try to convince myself to move on, and yet I retell the story in my head. It's almost an obsession.  Logically, I know I can't change the past. I know the relationship is over, and yet I analyze and evaluate in hopes of finding a solution of sorts.  However, my analysis usually results in me suppressing some aspect of my personality in hopes of that fixing things. It's ridiculous.  In an attempt to keep my sanity this time, I'm trying different tactics.  First up, a cleansing ritual.  I don't know if I buy into the full idea of the ritual. However, the act of meditating and then writing about what I wish to release, I do believe to be powerful.  The action of writing down the things that are keeping me from moving forward in life make me more aware of what I need to let go.  I followed the steps outlined on the website below. I found the meditation to be truly beneficial as well as the ritual of writing down and releasing the old thoughts and patterns that are holding me in the past.  I have done it about 3 days now, and I'm a fan. I will likely continue doing this weekly until I start to feel lighter and more open to the reality of the present moment.
thegirlwhoknows.com/letting-go-ritual/

Stages of grief? A breakup story in gifs

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It Felt Love - Hafiz

It Felt Love

How

Did the rose

Ever open its heart

And give to this world

All its

Beauty?

It felt the encouragement of light

Against its

Being,

Otherwise,

We all remain

Too

Frightened.

When You Come - Maya Angelou

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.

Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,

I CRY.

I'm apparently a very dense person.  You should believe someone's words and actions, right? I seem to ignore what is being said and hold onto hope that Patrick will change his mind and come back to me.  I'm not sure why I linger.  Do I fear moving on? Do I fear letting go? There's no safety net and I'm fearful of the fall.  I've lingered for 4 years trying to "make it work", but it hasn't; it doesn't; it won't.

What I needed from Patrick, he wasn't capable of giving me until after we'd broken up.  By then, he'd moved on physically but was still holding on to me emotionally.  We held on to each other.  I needed to process his moving on though.  I didn't do this fast enough for him.

My error was being too patient through the years, I guess. I felt I had time.  I supported him while he was sick. I waited for him, and and during that time he decided to try looking for someone new behind my back.  Then he was very mean to me in January and dumped me.  Didn't tell me he was dating someone new.  I found out the worst way possible - suddenly I couldn't view his profile on fb.  He hid things from me and that's how I found out he took a trip to LA with another girl.  This was the first time I knew he was even seeing someone.

I deserve better than this. I deserve more effort than this.  9 months later, they are done.  So, what do I do but look at him with hope in my eyes and my heart on my sleeve.  Of course, it's too soon for him.  He's mourning a relationship.

But, what the hell am I doing anyway? He's rejected me again and again, and I keep standing here expecting something different to happen.

It's sad b/c I think he and I could've worked very well together.  We did work well together.

I struggle to accept that he doesn't want to be in a relationship with me, and yet that's the reality.

Why don't I want more for myself?  That's one thing I don't understand.  I know, logically, that I deserve much better treatment, and yet I'm not allowing myself to move on and look for something better, something loving, something nurturing. 

Your mother and my mother by Hafiz

fear is the cheapest room in the house.
i would like to see you living
in better conditions.

for your mother and my mother
were friends.

i know the innkeeper
in this part of the universe.
get some rest tonight,
come to my verse again tomorrow.
we'll go speak to the Friend together.

i should not make any promises right now,
but i know if you
pray
somewhere in this world -
something good will happen.

god wants to see
more love and playfulness in your eyes
for that is your greatest witness to him.

your soul and my soul
once sat together in the Beloved's womb
playing footsie.

your heart and my heart
are very, very old
Friends.

Thoughts on sadness

I don't know how to process sadness. There was a time I let it flow over and through me. I didn't fight it, and I experienced the rawness of it. Now, I feel so frightened and lost. I attempt to reject the sadness, which just deepens its depths. I'm not sure how to find my footing again.

Accents - "ya'll shure dew talk foeny"

Everyone has one and yet I see reactions to accents ranging from disgust/disdain to amusement and adoration. Do you have an accent? You must. Everyone has one. Even an "non-accent" is, in itself, a sort of accent by which others are measured. Coming from the South of the United States, I used to be hyper aware and self conscious of having a "southern twang". I lived in Alabama for many years and honed my twang quite well. I have a tendency to mimic those around me to blend in, so, I picked up the accent quickly. I then moved back to Louisiana and was embarrassed by said accent. I quickly suppressed it, as best I could. It still popped out if I was tired or had a few drinks.

I've been told that Baton Rouge doesn't have much of accent -- meaning it sounds someone void of a twang a la the midwest accent. New Orleans, of course, has that wonderful "y'at" accent which is reminiscent of the northern states such as New Jersey. Of course, one of the most famous US accents comes from Boston. I realized that my european friends don't really hear these accents in english, which just increased my curiosity about this whole topic.
Cajun Accent
Boston Accent
Various Accents in English

Once I was able to get over the stigma of "southern accent = ignorance", I began to embrace the idea of having an accent. By this time, I evened out the twang so well that my accent leads people to believe I'm from Ohio. So, I have to say I'm a bit sad that I've lost my "southern drawl".

Now I'm living in Paris and trying to learn a completely different language. I was taking a french course and the instructor played an audio tape of an interview with a Canadian. She warned us that the accent was very strong and to listen carefully. I listened and felt that I could understand the Quebecois much more easily than the Parisians. The cadence was similar to english and they pronounce french words how I would. I just didn't really hear the accent, at all.

This idea of an accent in another language fascinated me, and I've been thinking about it for 2 years now. I want to be able to hear accents in french. How a Brit, a German, an American, or a Russian would sound speaking french. But, that was beyond my abilities. My ear could not distinguish between the words "pen" and "pin" in english. So, I was sort of out of luck.

Well, after 2 years of listening to French being spoken by Parisians and native French speakers, I decided to listen again to the Quebecois accent. Holy Cow!! What an accent! lol. I definitely hear it now, and I LOVE it!! Check it out here:


The young woman is from Canada. The man is not a native french speaker. I can tell this from his accent, but I do not know where he is from or what his native language is. I'm slowly picking up accents in another language, but I'm not to that point.

The most interesting thing to me was hearing her pronounce words and I immediately thought of cajun french. I can hear the influence that cajun french has from Canadian french. This is just fascinating to me!

more Dickinson

He fumbles at your spirit
As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
He stuns you by degrees,

Prepares your brittle substance
For the ethereal blow,
By fainter hammers, further heard,
Then nearer, then so slow

Your breath has time to straighten,
Your brain to bubble cool, --
Deals one imperial thunderbolt
That scalps your naked soul.

--Emily Dickinson

also, here is a short video I made of Images that I really Love.

Note, that there is no intention for copyright infringement. I have borrowed these images from google image searches. Please contact me, if there is a problem, and I will immediately remove the image/video.

Springtime

It's all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
This, and my heart, and all the fields,
and all the meadows wide.

Be sure to count, should I forget, --
someone the sum could tell, --
This, and my heart, and all the bees
which in clover dwell

--Emily Dickinson (and not the Liz Lemon's cat)

==============================================
Springtime has arrived in Paris. The lunchroom at work is noisier than ever making it more difficult for me to hear people. The trees are blooming. The tourists are swarming Notre Dame. All I can do is put away my winter coat and smile. I love springtime.

Wretches and Jabberers

I'm interested in watching this documentary about Autism.
Wretches and Jabberers

And here is a song from the soundtrack
One Whole Hour

So right in so many ways

Don't question it. Just embrace it.

The Perfect High

There once was a boy named Gimme-Some-Roy...
He was nothin' like me or you,
'cause laying back and getting high
was all he cared to do.

As a kid, he sat in the cellar...
sniffing airplane glue.
And then he smoked banana peels,
when that was the thing to do.
He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola,
he breathed helium on the sly,
and his life became an endless search
to find the perfect high.

But grass just made him wanna lay back
and eat chocolate-chip pizza all night,
and the great things he wrote when he was stoned
looked like shit in the morning light.

Speed made him wanna rap all day,
reds laid him too far back,
Cocaine-Rose was sweet to his nose,
but the price nearly broke his back.

He tried PCP, he tried THC,
but they never quite did the trick.
Poppers nearly blew his heart,
mushrooms made him sick.
Acid made him see the light,
but he couldn't remember it long.
Hash was a little too weak,
and smack was a lot too strong.
Quaaludes made him stumble,
booze just made him cry,
Then he heard of a cat named Baba Fats
who knew of the perfect high.

Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat...
lived high up in Nepal,
High on a craggy mountain top,
up a sheer and icy wall.

"Well, hell!" says Roy,
"I'm a healthy boy,
and I'll crawl or climb or fly,
Till I find that guru
who'll give me the clue
as to what's the perfect high."

So out and off goes Gimme-Some-Roy,
to the land that knows no time,
Up a trail no man could conquer,
to a cliff no man could climb.
For fourteen years he climbed that cliff...
back down again he'd slide . . .
He'd sit and cry, then climb some more,
pursuing the perfect high.

Grinding his teeth,
coughing blood,
aching and shaking and weak,
Starving and sore,
bleeding and tore,
he reaches the mountain peak.
And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf,
and he snarls the snarl of a rat,
As there in repose,
and wearing no clothes,
sits the god-like Baba Fats.

"What's happenin', Fats?" says Roy with joy,
"I've come to state my biz . . .
I hear you're hip to the perfect trip...
Please tell me what it is.
"For you can see," says Roy to he,
"I'm about to die,
So for my last ride, tell me,
how can I achieve the perfect high?"

"Well, dog my cats!" says Baba Fats.
"Another burned out soul,
Who's lookin' for an alchemist
to turn his trip to gold.
It isn't in a dealer's stash,
or on a druggist's shelf...
Son, if you would find the perfect high,
find it in yourself."

"Why, you jive mother-fucker!" says Roy,
"I climbed through rain and sleet,
I froze three fingers off my hands,
and four toes off my feet!
I braved the lair of the polar bear,
I've tasted the maggot's kiss.
Now, you tell me the high is in myself?
What kinda shit is this?

My ears, before they froze off," says Roy,
"had heard all kindsa crap;
But I didn't climb for fourteen years
to hear your sophomore rap.
And I didn't climb up here to hear
that the high is on the natch,
So you tell me where the real stuff is,
or I'll kill your guru ass!"

"Okay...okay," says Baba Fats,
"You're forcin' it outta me...
There is a land beyond the sun
that's known as Zabolee.
A wretched land of stone and sand,
where snakes and buzzards scream,
And in this devil's garden blooms
the mystic Tzutzu tree.

Now, once every ten years it blooms one flower,
as white as the Key West sky,
And he who eats of the Tzutzu flower
shall know the perfect high.
For the rush comes on like a tidal wave...
hits like the blazin' sun.
And the high? It lasts forever,
and the down don't never come.

But, Zabolee Land is ruled by a giant,
who stands twelve cubits high,
And with eyes of red in his hundred heads,
he awaits the passer-by.
And you must slay the red-eyed giant,
and swim the river of slime,
Where the mucous beasts await to feast
on those who journey by.
And if you slay the giant and beasts,
and swim the slimy sea,
There's a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth
as she guards the Tzutzu tree."

"Well, to hell with your witches and giants," says Roy,
"To hell with the beasts of the sea--
Why, as long as the Tzutzu flower still blooms,
hope still blooms for me."
And with tears of joy in his sun-blind eyes,
he slips the guru a five,
And crawls back down the mountainside,
pursuing the perfect high.

"Well, that is that," says Baba Fats,
sitting back down on his stone,
Facing another thousand years of talking to God, alone.
"Yes, Lord, it's always the same...
old men or bright-eyed youth...
It's always easier to sell 'em some shit
than it is to tell them the truth."

Shel Silverstein

Back to Basics

I have signed up for a 4 week Yoga class at the Sivananda Center here in Paris. We have class twice a week and each class lasts 1.5 hours. I needed to get back into yoga, and doing it on my own wasn't working. I signed up for the "debutantes" class because I wanted to ease back into it, to learn all this group has to teach about the basic postures, and to be able to understand the French. I was most nervous about the French. My french is slowly improving, but that doesn't stop me from fretting. :D Well, the first class was wonderful. The teacher is a really gentle sweet man. He may be in his 30s, but he could be in his 50s for all I know. There are 8 students in the class, one of whom is disabled. The room is bright and airy. The class went like this: discussion of foundation of Sivananda center, the basic branches of Yoga, chanting, eye exercises, learning to breath, a few basic poses, relaxation, and more chanting.

absolutely wonderful. And I learned a new word: le ventre is the belly. :D

and today's class was even better. We did the eye exercises, the sun salutation, shoulder stand, fish pose, seated forward bend. chanting. relaxation.

I feel absolutely fantastic, very happy, and not afraid to try speaking french. That's the funniest part of this. Not only am I becoming more aware of the present moment again, but after yoga I feel more inclined to try communicating in French.

The teacher today was discussing the benefits of yoga (as far as I could tell, at least). And he was talking about the balance between flexibility and strength. And he said something about NOT getting "washboard abs"....but, he didn't use the analogy of a washboard. He said "a package of chocolate" instead.




Isn't that awesome? I love the visual of that, and the fact that this Frenchman sees those abs and is reminded of food. love it!

Moon River

Tonight I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's on a movie screen.

...Best...experience...EVER!

The theater was small and cozy and absolutely charming! Outside, the facade of the building was fitted with a red overhang, some subtle neon lights, display windows, and minor flood lights which allowed me to watch the slight drizzle as we stood in line. Inside, the screening room was small and the screen not much bigger than some large TVs. The seats were lush and red and very narrow. The walls were red and there was a small stage that made me think of the possibility of live plays. The movie itself was wonderful. I laughed, and I cried. The music moved me, and I was so content at the end. so wonderful. I sort of feel as if I'm only just now seeing Breakfast at Tiffany's, truly, for the first time.

I'm now obsessed with watching classic movies in these charming small theaters, which are sprinkled throughout Paris. absolutely obsessed!

The Floor Scrapers

There is something about this painting that I love. I'm not sure what it is. Maybe I enjoy the painting because this scene feels realistic to me. I like that they are working hard, are shirtless, and are talking to each other with a bottle of wine waiting on the side. And, in person, the detail of the wood floor is breath taking. I would even go as far to say the shine of the floor is reminiscent of a Vermeer. That's a high compliment from me. :D This painting was done by Gustave Caillebotte in 1875, and it is displayed in the Musee D'Orsay.

Walking to a friends house, I noticed this image on the side of a book store.



This hidden treasure is one of the many things I love about Paris.

Jawa attack caught on tape.

So, instead of spending all my time on facebook, I studied my french, did some yoga, listened to music, and made this very silly (and very blurry) video called Counter-Attack of the Jawa.

Tautology

A good friend of mine has been talking about the absurdity of facebook. I am one of those people who spends the working day in front of a computer, so I have a web browser tab constantly open to facebook. I check facebook (and my e-mail) obsessively. So, I regularly post photos and silly one liners. I post comics I find funny. I play scrabble with my mom(#). I farm a fairy tale land in which animals never get sick or die from lack of food, there is no mud or manure, and the crops are always healthy. I peep into my friends lives without them knowing about it. And I peep into lives of people I knew in high school. These people are very nice, but we are vastly different, and they probably don't enjoy my "I support same sex marriage" posts. On the other hand, I really do enjoy seeing what everyone is up to on a daily basis. It's such a strange and false world, but I'm completely wrapped up in it.

Tautology is a word I learned today thanks to the XKCD comic strip. I laughed really hard when I read this strip, and I immediately thought of facebook. Facebook is an exercise in tautology for me. Instead of experiencing and living life, I'm unnecessarily repeating it on facebook, rendering myself redundant. It's almost as if I'm attempting to reduce my life to my profile page on facebook. I have my interactions there rather than through e-mail or phone calls...or heaven forbid face-to-face.

So, I've decided to break free of my bad habits this lenten season. This is the first time I've decided to make multiple changes as I usually focus on a single habit. Each habit I've chosen to drop this year is something I classify as a distraction and/or something that inhibits me from experiencing people, books, foods, and events (i.e. life). So, it's a big challenge, but just like with any addiction, I will take it one day at a time.

And funny how I've been meaning to post on my blog for months, but the day I decide to take a break from facebook and farmville, I return to my blog.

So, raise your glass and let's toast to my debut into society and, hopefully, the return of tangible interactions with the people of the world(*)!




(#) I love playing scrabble online, and this is one habit I'm not giving up for now.
(*) Yes, I get the irony of declaring this on the blogosphere. :D

another strange dream

So, I dreamt about my cat last night. She's a mature cat, and maybe I'm worried she's going to pass away while I'm kicking up my heels in the City of Lights. In my dream, she was wearing a cat shaped hat. It covered her face and ears. It was all white so that it covered her black and white coloring. Her eyes were milky and didn't see much. She was super cuddly, but it was difficult to pet her through the knitted covering. That's all I remember.

so weird.

I also had a dream that I was trying to find my passport. I was about to leave for a trip, and I was running late. But, no matter how hard I searched, I couldn't find my passport. I'm sure this dream has something to do with the fact that I haven't received my permanent Visa yet. My temporary one expires on the 25th of November.

Photographic Evidence

Here is some proof that I'm actually in Paris: Ha! No, this is me in Finland. Of course. But, I did get the directions to Paris while I was there:



Here is my apartment:

This is the overall view of the place






This is the living room






And here are the essentials of Parisian life: wine, coffee, and bread! I just bought that silver espresso maker, and I love it. I have cheese and chocolate too, but I left them in the fridge. :D

Now, that I finally bought batteries for my camera, I hope to post more photos. Tomorrow, I am taking a brief tour of Paris. So, stay tuned...