26 February, 2008 | 17 Comments

I had a magical time in Paris - simply magical! The trip far exceeded all expectations. I’m working on my novel again (thank GOD!!!). There was actual sunshine and warmth all weekend, which was intoxicating (see photo above — with more to come!). But I will wait to write about all of this because I have some GOOD NEWS to share. Yesterday while I was in Paris my lawyer called to tell me that…

I WON MY COURT CASE!!! And I won it big, baby!

This was the perfect ending to my lovely weekend. The judge ordered the evil landlady to return the deposit and guarantie she has illegally withheld for more than a year. And there’s more! I was awarded 1200€ for my legal fees. And the icing on the cake…1000€ in damages for abusive treatment! I was stunned. My lawyer was stunned too, actually. She said that in France, it is not common to receive damages in a civil case. Even though lawyers ask for them, they are rarely awarded as they are in the U.S. courts. She also said that if there is an awarding of legal fees, it will usually cover barely half the legal expenses, whereas in my case, I have been awarded more than I’ve actually spent (at least so far). I never expected such a big victory and my lawyer was just so pleased with herself and kept saying, “You really deserve this ruling!”

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22 February, 2008 | 2 Comments

I’m off to Paris in the morning, armed with a chapter-in-progress from my novel, a blank notebook, a fountain pen and a paperback copy of The Bell Jar (which I have not read in a long time but need to re-read for my thesis). Oh — and I’m taking a camera, of course. I really hope this trip gives me the boost I need. I have no real plans besides wandering around and sitting in cafés drinking tea.

BTW, the judge in Paris made a ruling in my court case against the landlady. My lawyer has been trying to get a copy of the judgment from the court clerk for the past week. *Sigh* I can’t even begin to understand what the hold-up is. [Resisting the urge to insert snotty comment here.] Anyway, I should know next week. Then again, maybe not…

So have a good weekend. I’ll report back next week!

20 February, 2008 | 4 Comments

Tonight on the bus ride home from work I cried a little bit. I think it was from exhaustion, mostly. I’m still not entirely well but I’ve had to teach a lot of hours this week. I’m tired. I’m not sure where I’ll find the energy to do it all again tomorrow. In general I’m not entirely happy right now anyway. That’s just the way it is, like it or not. So all of this added up to a teary moment on a packed bus. While looking out the window at the whirl of pedestrians and red traffic lights of Holborn, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to feel entirely alone in the world. That’s how I felt, then, at least for that moment.

This weekend I am going to Paris. Saturday, Sunday, Monday. Even if I don’t feel well enough to go, I’m going. I splurged on the ticket. I need to feel inspired, I need to feel pleasure — the kind of sensual pleasure that only Paris can provide. Last year at this time I was living there, trying to sort myself out, trying to pull myself up from the lowest of the low. I’m craving a visit to Paris right now. Or perhaps, maybe, what I’m really craving is for something to

wake me up.

19 February, 2008 | 5 Comments

After reading my previous post, my sister sent Hillary’s campaign $100!  I only sent $20.  Now my donation seems rather loser-ish.  Oh well.

17 February, 2008 | 4 Comments

I’ve never donated to a political campaign before. I’ve always been hesitant to do it because I feel the amount of money spent on political campaigns in America is obscene. But it’s clear that money is important in this election and that Obama’s financial advantage is helping him tremendously. I only gave $20, which isn’t much, but these little donations add up and the next few weeks are absolutely crucial.

I want Hillary to win this nomination because I think she would make a great president. Also, I felt compelled to donate to Hillary’s campaign for two other reasons:

1) The vile misogyny directed at Hillary Clinton by the news media, the internets, the political establishment (including so-called “liberals”) and members of the public has made me very sad and very very angry.

2) The free ride Barack Obama has been given by the press is, quite frankly, sickening. It is not up to the media to select the Democrat’s nominee — it’s up to the voters and the delegates. The slanted coverage I’ve seen throughout this campaign so far is a disgrace to journalism.

Click here to contribute to Hillary [U.S. citizens and permanent residents only].

15 February, 2008 | 2 Comments

I returned home from work last night to discover this huge bouquet of pink ranunculuses waiting for me! I was stunned! I’ve never seen such beautiful flowers. The bouquet is so huge (more than 50 blooms) that I had to split it into two vases.

You know, I really needed a pick-me-up this week and these flowers are very much appreciated. I’m so touched. Thanks M - ! xoxo

[Click below for more flower porn imagery...]

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14 February, 2008 | 4 Comments

I took this photo last Valentine’s Day in Montmartre Cemetery. Nothing says “I love you” like a creepy photo taken in a graveyard. And you know, I really do love you. Yes, you.

Last night in my sick bed I went through the Paris photo archives looking for my Valentine’s photos from last year, since I knew there was no chance of me taking any new ones today. I was in quite a weird mood last V-day. Click below for two more photos I took in Paris — one of a bondage shop (my third most-viewed photo on Flickr, entitled “love = pain”) and a more traditionally pretty one. No matter how you’re feeling on this clichéd day of love, I think there’s a photo here to suit your mood. That’s my gift to you. It’s not much, but then what did you get me? Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.

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13 February, 2008 | 3 Comments

…because she is sick. Anglofille lost her temper this morning when she discovered her students did not have their assignments printed out. She implied they were useless morons and her face turned all red and she became super-bitch. The students were stunned. Anglofille would have enjoyed watching them squirm, but she doesn’t like losing her cool and so she felt ashamed. After this, Anglofille realized she is indeed quite sick and needs to be in bed.

Anglofille then went to Boots and the pharmacist listened to her symptoms and gave her some magic potion to make it all better. Anglofille also bought lemon and honey to put in hot water, as directed by the pharmacist, who also suggested she gargle with aspirin mixed in water. Ugh. Anglofille is not doing that. Anglofille doesn’t gargle.

If not better soon, the doctor on Friday…

12 February, 2008 | 4 Comments

I know I haven’t been blogging much lately and when I do blog, the content has been a tad on the melancholy side. This post isn’t necessarily much different. My apologies in advance.

–Jamaican taxi driver to me, after I handed him his fare: “Cheers, baby.” I’ve never heard that before, but I like it.

–I finally made it to the Ladurée in Harrods. Unlike in Paris, there was no queue out the door, no pushing and shoving, no macaron-starved mob behaving like the cast of Les Miserables. Unfortunately, the London branch is more expensive. [London more expensive? Mais non! C'est impossible!] I heard the macarons are flown in from Monaco each day. Screw the environment. I bought a box of macarons that I had to ship across the Atlantic. Yes, I’m serious. I’m such a sucker. But I’m pleased to report the macarons here taste the same as the ones in Paris. If they didn’t taste the same, that would be a crisis on par with Afghanistan or some such.

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8 February, 2008 | 8 Comments

Thanks for all the comments you left on my previous post (and for the e-mails and IMs and phone calls). You are all so kind to me and honestly, I was really touched and moved to tears. Thank you. I’m also pleased that people liked the Meredith poem, which is one of my favorites.

As you might imagine, the morning after my post I regretted it. That post may have seemed like a shameless plea for sympathy, but that wasn’t the impetus behind it. I was experiencing some intense emotions and I just wanted to write them down and send them out into the universe. I didn’t know how else to deal with what I was experiencing at that moment. Sometimes I feel the need to put my deepest darkest vulnerabilities into words — it’s not pleasant, but it helps me.

Anyway, it’s difficult for me to write more about this here. I just had a difficult January too, with not being able to focus on my work and feeling at loose ends. January is always tough for me, so I’m not surprised I struggled so much but still, I didn’t expect to plunge into such a bleak mood this past weekend. I am feeling a lot better now though. I need to force myself back into my PhD work, which is what I’m doing today. I am trying to be sociable too. Yesterday I went out to lunch with a friend, then was invited to a friend’s flat for tea after dinner, then I went to a pub where a certain wicked boy made me drink strawberry-flavored beer from Belgium. Normally I can’t even stomach the smell of beer, but this strawberry stuff tasted like fruit punch. Yum. With everything else that’s been happening, I thought I might as well take up drinking.

4 February, 2008 | 11 Comments

Tonight I feel like an unlovable hideous freak. I am starting to believe that I am actually unlovable, that I have some sort of defect, that I should return myself to the shop and exchange myself for a newer, better version. The universe keeps sending me this message. I think I’ve gotten it by now. Loud and clear. Thanksverymuch.

I don’t know why I bother.

Tonight I read some poetry. This is one of my favorite poems. It takes my breath away, always.

“Accidents of Birth”

–William Meredith

Spared by a car — or airplane-crash or
cured of malignancy, people look
around with new eyes at a newly
praiseworthy world, blinking eyes like these.
For I’ve been brought back again from the
fine silt, the mud where our atoms lie
down for long naps. And I’ve also been
pardoned miraculously for years
by the lava of chance which runs down
the world’s gullies, silting us back.
Here I am, brought back, set up, not yet
happened away.
But it’s not this random
life only, throwing its sensual
astonishments upside down on
the bloody membranes behind my eyeballs,
not just me being here again, old
needer, looking for someone to need,
but you, up from the clay yourself,
as luck would have it, and inching
over the same little segment of earth-
ball, in the same little eon, to
meet in a room, alive in our skins,
and the whole galaxy gaping there
and the centuries whining like gnats —
you, to teach me to see it, to see
it with you, and to offer somebody
uncomprehending, impudent thanks.

2 February, 2008 | 5 Comments

Today I went with a friend to a literary seminar. We listened to two professors each give a paper. Sometimes at these events, I often wonder if the whole pursuit of academic literary study at this level is pointless. What are we really contributing to society? Nothing. People are writing dissertations on the role of postage stamps in the work of Anne Bronte or how often the color yellow appears in the poetry of Ezra Pound. Okay, these examples are absurd but not necessarily too far off the mark in some cases. We’re just speaking to other academics and students in our little bubble of minutiae and accomplishing nothing except churning out more academics who will write more crap.

During the discussion that followed the lectures, a student raised the issue of how a capitalist society creates work for the “surplus educated.” Are all of us doing PhDs in the humanities the “surplus educated”? I wonder. I know this is a horrible attitude for someone doing a PhD in English to have, but this is part of the reason I switched to doing creative writing. I’d rather attempt to create art than just dissect the art that others have created. It gives me more of a sense of purpose.

To illustrate my point, during the seminar there was a man outside who began screaming. For about ten to fifteen minutes he was yelling something over and over again. To me it sounded like he was screaming “Help!” Everyone in the seminar just ignored the sound of this man from outside, though a few of us were laughing at him. I really did wonder if he’d been stabbed or something, though I didn’t get up to look out the window. Afterwards my friend said this just underscores how detached literary studies can be from the “real world.” We’re discussing ethics in literature and we want to shut the window so we can’t hear the man outside screaming for help.