pays-bas

We arrived in Luyksgestel around 10 am Saturday.

Alex came in on Tuesday.

The days blur together and the clouds do weird things here.

sur le fil

It's been a crazy month + one week.

I'll be 26 in 3 days.

I miss my cat.

I need to meet more people out here somehow.

I'm not learning French fast enough.

I've been sick for a combination of 2 and a half weeks total here and counting.

I'll elaborate on all of this later.

mal a gorge

Well, it really was only a matter of time until I caught some sort of bug- in this case some weird strain of what the french call "la crève", which is just argot for any number of variations on the common cold. In any case I am exhausted all the time, sniffly, stuffy, and my throat hurts. Though, because this sort of malady is not only common, but expected at this time of year when the little ones return from their summer holidays into the petri dish of école to mix and mutate new strains of viral infections... I don't get time off to properly recover since, well... it's my job to watch these kids. So it goes.

Things with the littlest one are getting better... I think. Sometimes it can seem like a two steps forward one step back sort of situation, but there is subtle improvement from day to day. It's very hard at times to distinguish between what is normal three year old behavior, what is normal indulged three year old behavior, what is just her natural bold personality and what is just downright bad behavior that is largely tolerated for myriad reasons i'm not going to go into right now. She really is a tough cookie, and what makes it tougher is that I know she is not inherently bad. In fact, I think more than anything she craves discipline. She wants order... but her parents indulge her and don't want to discourage her precociousness. And in all honesty, neither do I. She is obviously smart as hell, and sometimes I have to remind myself that she is only three, because I promise you if you met her you'd swear she was 5. Also somehow I can't help feeling like this is some sort of sick payback for all the shit I pulled as a kid... Karma man. And life lessons. Life lessons all around.

Also, let me interject that I really shouldn't complain. I may be the only au pair ever to have a suite, private bathroom and kingsized bed. Oh yeah, and the whole living in a castle thing also doesn't suck. If it sounds like I'm complaining, it's only because of the concessions being made. As wonderful as my family is here (and believe me, they ARE wonderful) they are not immune to the certain level of being out of touch that naturally arrives with a high income household. And though not everything translates, in fact most things don't across the atlantic, some things absolutely do and exist everywhere. This is one of those things. But then again, lets be honest here. A certain amount of indulgence is to be expected with this job- If a family is wealthy enough to afford an au pair, you better believe they are wealthy enough to afford pretty much any other luxury they desire. Oh yes- quick note on that. I'm making peanuts over here, not that I'm all that concerned with that fact. I didn't come here to make money. I came here for the experience. (and the visa) The only reason I mention that is that I want to take this opportunity to shed some light on one of the darker aspects of socialism.

So here I am, working pretty hard with the laundry of 8 people, 2 very difficult toddlers and all sorts of other stuff I won't list because it's just not worth it right now... making in one week enough to pay my language course. So basically I net three weeks worth of pay, and believe me, it is no large sum. And then, you have the French Government netting twice what I make in a month just to have me here. So they do nothing while I toil and make a fraction of what they receive for my being here. If what I understand is correct, the majority of this money goes towards my social securty and healthcare since technically I am a temporary legal resident of France... but trust. A large portion of that also goes towards the French bureaucratic pyramid scheme. Also note that the sum they pay is as much as it is because they base it on a percentage of my host father's income. Man this sounds so much like that country I just left...

Anyway, long story short I shouldn't complain, but sometimes I still do.

I shouldn't complain because I have found a decency in people here that I thought was all but lost. I have found, essentially, the mother that I have always wanted but never had. I have found the acceptance and appreciation from people here I have always craved but never really received and thus believed I didn't deserve. This whole situation, on a day to day basis makes me question whether the beauty I see around me- the kind of beauty that is often attempted but never replicated despite the numerous attempts across the world (especially in America) is very real and very present. I guess I just was never prepared for the grass actually being greener. But it is.

Of course nothing is ever PERFECT, and I still have some personal things to work on while taking on the imposing task of being an au pair for this family. Well imposing for anyone else I guess... There are problems, sure... But overall, I am so much better off than I was.

But it is going to suck when I get to the age of 30 and realize that I've spent so much time raising other people's kids that I have absolutely no desire to do so for myself. On va voir.

Linda Blair

Today marks two weeks here in France with this, my new family, my new life...

Yesterday was the first day I have had off since I arrived.

Don't get me wrong! Things here are lovely about 80% of the time, which by my calculations is pretty damn good for this type of situation. Nothing is ever perfect, and when you essentially trust complete strangers with a year of your life to be welcomed as I have and treated as well as I have is truly a blessing.

My typical day begins at 7:30 when I wake up, do my morning push ups, take a shower, drink coffee and maybe do my makeup. I get the two youngest kids up no later thank 8:00, dress them, get them breakfast, make sure they have a snack for school etc... This usually involves a fair amount of screaming and or flailing from the three year old who really seems to have it out for me. I swear this girl sometimes... I have never met a child that was so adept at physically escaping any situation where even a little bit of force is required. She makes her body go limp and moves her limbs around in such a manner that makes her literally impossible to keep a grip on. It's really something else.

After the kids are ready and fed I walk them to the école which is about two blocks away and go on my merry way until they return around 5. Lundi, Mardi, Vendredi, Jeudi I have the hours between 9 and 5 pm more or less to myself, and in that time I will aid in the constant stream of laundry- putting loads in, taking loads out, folding folding folding, and the same goes for the dishes which never end either. So it goes in such a large family, and to be honest, at least they have a dishwasher!

During my free time I love to ride my bike. I bought a used Bianchi road/racing bike in really great order. It's a little weird getting used to the new geometry, and in all honesty it's a bit large for me, but not terrible to ride. It's FAST. I don't know whether it's the overwhelming beauty and solitude of the countryside, or the fact that my bike rides are more or less the only thing that is totally and completely MINE, but I can honestly say that I have never enjoyed riding a bike more in my life. Although French drivers do scare the shit out of me.

Mardi I also have my language class which I look forward to all week. Two hours of only French speaking!!! And my teacher is a doll. Yesterday she let me bitch for like 20 minutes about what was bothering me around here and gave me some very French advice. She's lovely. I do get the sense, however that this specific course is pretty much souly aimed towards English ex-pats who emigrate here after retirement and are required to learn the language. Consequently, my two classmates are in their 70's so, not exactly my cup of tea. Pun very, very intended.

I was informed at dinner tonight that the littlest one, the linda blair one has really upped the crazy since I've been here. Superb.

Around 16.45 or so I walk to the école to pick up the three youngest kids. When we get back to the house I fix them a drink, maybe a snack and play with them for about and hour or more until dinner.

Dinner is usually a mix of broken French on the side of the mother and I, lighting fast "courant" french from the kids, that I frankly can't understand for the life of me half the time, and of course, Dutch. Oddly enough, It has gotten to the point already where I can understand a fair amount of Dutch, but still not enough to be able to decipher what the hell anyone is really talking about.

Dinner is usually pretty tortuous as the littlest one screams and yells and gets out of her seat and generally makes it very unpleasant for everyone involved. I suggested two things to remedy this situation- Threaten the youngest with having to eat alone in the hall at her play table, and two giving every member of the family about 5 minutes or so to recount their day, so that everyone has a chance to be heard. So far, the adoption of these two tactics to control little Linda's behavior have been my biggest triumphs here.

After dinner, we all help clear the table and the next battle commences- Bath and bed for the little ones. So far it has varied from actually pretty pleasant to downright insupportable... But we're getting there. After that I am technically "off" so I generally retreat to my room and talk to friends on Skype or mess around on the interwebs.

So thats about it for the daily routine so far. Stay tuned for humorous anecdotes and potentially inspirational snippets of my life in the South of France.

le sentiment maladroit quand...

You realize that you have been walking on eggshells for 26 years.

I left Cleveland on time, Wednesday September 11 at 1:35. Around 16 hours later I was on my way to my home for the next year in the French countryside of Gers with a lovely Dutch lady and three children in tow. And here I am now, only four days into my adventure and I have never felt more at ease, more comfortable, more myself.

I knew upfront that this would not be your ordinary au pair arrangement for numerous reasons... A Dutch and not French family, the father's irregular schedule, the five children, the remote location etc... but what I didn't know was that somehow, one quarter of the way around the world I would find myself wo welcomed, accepted and appreciated. That the mother and father and I would talk for hours on end about topics any typical american, or even some Europeans would deem taboo. (The Dutch are known for their non-judgemental nature.)

I never thought that I could be as completely honest with people that I am still getting to know with absolutely no fear of being judged, dejected or risk losing my job. It's so refreshing. It's more than that though, but I just don't have the words to accurately describe how truly happy I am for the first time in my life.

It's a difficult realization, and I'm struggling a little bit to make sense of my familial relations back home from this new position. Of course I love my family dearly. But I guess I have just become so accustomed to negative comments and what I believe to be an extremely unhealthy grip on the past that pervades seemingly the most minute of situations that simple things like hearing that I am a fast learner, or that a dish that I made tasted good just mean the world to me. Above all this family seems to really appreciate me- and not the "me" that I think people in my family or the whole of America want to see, but the me that has for one reason or another repelled practically everyone I have ever met.

And here I thought I was going crazy all this time.

According to the mom and dad I am really more European than American, and aside from that being what I consider to be one of the highest compliments I have yet received... Things are finally beginning to make sense.

Anyway, here are my new digs. More pictures to come as they become available.

voyage dans le temps

Well it's been an interesting few weeks. I haven't really had anything of note to say. Feelings of general detachement have more or less subsided and gotten me to this point...

In less than 72 hours I will be aboard a plane to France.

I will finally be able to escape this city, these people, this past here that never seems to relent in rearing it's ugly head.

I've had ups and downs this month... but nothing really that profound. I guess if anything I am trying to take the positive with the negative and not reading to deeply into either.

When it comes right down to it, the only people left in this city that I care about are my direct family... the others have left Ohio entirely so the remaining population... well remains. Ha. That's all I really have to say about that.

There will be pictures and interesting stories and anecdotes to come. I am sure.

But for now, all I can say is Cleveland, I bid you adieu.

no title

21 days to go.

I'm actually really glad to have gone to see my therapist yesterday. So much inner rage/turmoil. Deduced that this status quo is a direct result of very limited exposure to other people, that is to say that my lack of any sort of semblance of a circle of friends has caused me to become hyper-vigilant of myself, since I lack an appropriate social mirror to serve that purpose for me. Constantly assessing and re-assessing my assessments. It's enough to drive one's self mad, if they aren't there already.

But I'm not sure. In fact, last night I had a revelatory thought-

What if I have been thinking about this all wrong? What is all of the events that transpired last year were for a purpose, perhaps even a very good reason? So far I've vacillated between self-pity and self importance because of the whole ordeal, but for some reason, last night something clicked.

I would not have been able to manage this France adventure had all of those things not happened.

I see only two plausible scenarios.

One, everything was completely normal, I stayed in school and finished earlier. I developed lasting relationships with people around here (at least slightly more profound than they were before I lost it), I retained these relationships upon graduation and because of my ties here, I decided to stay... content to accept a life in this rust belt town, living within my means and adopting the veritable uniform of the 20 something eccentric thats so popular with the kids around here. Eventually marry some blue collar type with a good heart and stubble and have a few kids and my own organic garden and people around here are apt to do. And although this seems lovely in theory... I would know for the rest of my life that I had squandered my remaining 20 something years to establish a mediocre existence devoid of all of the excitement I dreamed I would experience.

Two, following in a similar trajectory of how things transpired last year, I continued to make money being a nanny as I descended slowly but surely into abject manic insanity, alienated myself similarly, but somehow, whether legitimately or otherwise made use of my passport and found myself abroad, only to continue on my unbridled path of self destruction/deception finally landing in some sort of institution and becoming some sort of international incident. Like that one kid who got caned for graffiti in the 90's, only way way weirder.

Ok, sure... both of these divergent projections are clear exaggerations... but in reality I don't think that I am wrong. Had everything not fallen apart last year, had I not ended up in psychiatric care (again), had I not debased myself to the point of utter unrecognition... I would not have the drive that I have. I would not have the important, no... INVALUABLE knowledge of my diagnosis that I have now. I would not have quit smoking. I would not have limited, almost eradicated entirely my alcohol consumption. I would not have the cautious optimism or the inherent understanding that to succeed, I MUST take care of myself in a very real way.

Had my manic break not happened last year, I would have continued on in my life believing that the first one was a mere fluke. That it would not or could not happen again. I believe that no matter what, it would have caught up with me again... and in many respects I am SO LUCKY that it happened here, where I had a safety net. Where I had individuals who knew me at least well enough to try to keep me afloat until I stopped making sense completely. Where, in the grand scheme of things, Cleveland is such a globally insignificant city that to fuck up here registers on only one local radar and then slowly fades away.

No ties means a clean break.
Resentment means fuel for the rocket boosters.
Knowledge is power.

No other single event could have been more informative, and beneficial than my manic break last year. And though the shockwaves still echo somewhat throughout the vicinity, I have learned to comporte myself in a much better manner than before. I have seen a slice of true human nature. I have gained invaluable insight when it comes to myself, my diagnosis, and my future. Without last year, I would be doomed to repeat the horrors of St. Augustine in some capacity at some future date which surely would have been so much more damaging than the foolishness of last year.

I am lucky.

But I am still looking forward to getting the fuck out of here.

But for the first time in forever, I don't think that I'll be leaving with two extended middle fingers... Much more probable for departure will be a knowing smirk.

c'est officiel

Well, today I got my passpot back from the consulate with my valid visa inside.
It's official. I'm going to France.
It's strange because up until this point it hasn't really felt real. I mean, nothing really has... I've become very (intentionally) detached from my surroundings, and a certain surrealism has seemingly overtaken my day to day experience.

The thing is, at best I am so used to things not working out. At worst, things going horribly, horribly wrong. So of course when I found a slip of paper yesterday stating that the USPS had attempted to deliver an express envelope which I knew to be the one I filled out dutifully and gave to the consulate with my Passport and all of my hopes and dreams... I figured immediately that I had been denied. Everything I had read had said that these things take at minimum three weeks to process, so I dreaded opening the envelope and finding some sort of explanation as to why they had refused my visa request.

I waited until 12:30 to go to the post office to pick up the envelope... preparing myself for a huge letdown, only to open the package and see what I have waited years to see.

A beautifully official student visa placed into my passport, granting me the ability to stay at least a year in France. I have to admit, I teared up a bit. I have waited so long for this to happen. And now, the last step before I set out on this adventure is merely getting on the plane.

26 days and counting.

Here's to hoping they pass avec bien vitesse...

nouvelle date

Well, the date is set. Officially. I leave here September 11.

Great day for flying, I know... but at least the price is right?

Went to the consulate in Chicago with my mom Monday for my appointment on Tuesday, which went much more easily than I thought it would. I suppose I really don't know what I was expecting, but my double/triple/quadruple checking of all of my documents and surplus of copies helped. I basically just turned in the papers, had a picture taken and was on my merry way.

Chicago was cool too... never been there before. Similar in ways to New York, but much cleaner and a lot more open. Having the river through the city proper also makes a big difference, and kind of reminded me of Paris and the Senne. Although not quite as lovely.

So, here I sit a month away from departure. No job, about 100 dollars in the bank. (I drained my account and gave it to my mom for safe keeping) and still no improvement on the social homefront. In fact, if anything I seem to have distanced myself even further from my remaining friends, which I didn't think was possible. It's impossible to live in this town after being socially blacklisted. Everyone knows everyone, or at least someone that knows everyone else so it just ends up being a huge gossip fueled clusterfuck game of telephone while in circle jerk formation- egos stroked accordingly with the putting down of other people acting as the new social lubricant.

I don't like playing that role anymore. It's degrading. However, it has lent itself to some pretty serious introspection which has resulted in me coming to terms with the fact that in addition to my very public displays of insanity and or general imbalance, another factor in this whole outcast thing has everything to do with the friends I have chosen.

I mean, you want to give people the benefit of the doubt. And being the kind of person that I am, even if hordes of people shun a specific individual, that fact never really deterred me from giving them that benefit- choosing to see the good in them, however minimal it may have been when compared to their overwhelming flaws. Also, these people to whom I gave this consideration seemed to do the same for me and therefore provided me with some sort of validation, however base it may have been.

Well this just isn't good enough for me anymore. You are the company you keep, or so I have been told- And I have kept really, really questionable company.

It's not that these people are inherently BAD, just as I am not inherently BAD... they're just not upstanding citizens. I mean, I wasn't for a very long time... but more recently I have been actively trying to change this. Thus, settling for the company that only fortifies your bottom dweller status because they accept you just... won't do anymore. I'd rather have no friends than shitty friends, who in many respects weren't every really friends to begin with.

They say that the common element in every blunder or mistake or bad relationship is you. That's very true. But what happens if you change, and that person that was a participant in all of those past gaffs doesn't exist anymore? I suppose that's a rhetorical question since, I don't have the patience nor the desire to try to, in the last month I have here try to prove to anyone that I'm different, or that my highlight reel far outshines my list (albiet lengthy) of failures. It's just not worth it, and in any case, had any of those people that I associated with before I lost it had actually been real friends, they'd still be around.

So, this next month I am going to devote to the tying of loose ends. The building of a solid jump off point. The quest of self improvement. And perhaps most importantly, the shedding of the last of the unfortunate skin that remains, obscuring, as the French would call, la belle vérité.

T minus 34 days until I leave you Cleveland! I WILL NOT MISS YOU.

"you're very droll"

Oh man I need to re-design this blog... it's pretty terrible.

And yet another foray into the horrors of waitressing. Tuesday I was training on a double with the intention of being on the floor for real, that is, making actual money on Thursday (today) when...

A five top orders three martinis and two other cocktails, I try to carry the tray with like, everyone including the manager and the crazy Argentinian owner breathing down my neck. Shit starts spilling everywhere of course. I get cut five minutes later with tears welling up in my eyes.

Manager is actually a pretty cool guy and tried to soften the blow of the implied "you aren't cut out for dinner service". Fucking atrophied muscle in my left arm from being a stupid 20 year old ruining my life still.

I went home and cried about it for a good forty minutes with Alex via skpye. I mean, I was crying and he was listening.


On the drive home I see for the THIRD time in a week the only ex that I actually have any malicious feelings for as he is a complete sociopath asshole. Keep in mind I haven't had to see this guy at all except briefly riding his bike on one occasion like half a year ago or something... So yeah, seeing him gayly riding his bike alongside a cute girl running with her dog was a bit more than I could handle in my state, and it took everything that I had within me not to yell out factual statements in an attempt to deter that poor girl from falling into one of his snares. This is not jealousy btw... It's really like a good samaritain type thing. I mean, I don't want anyone else to get fucked over by this guy, and he deserves nothing but pain and suffering.

So that night I went out and did what I do best- drink when I feel sad or inferior.

Then who do I see but another ex, Chris. A cordial conversation followed and I think that my genuine disinterest came across pretty clearly, and maybe even made him a little interested? I don't know. Who cares anyway, I'm on my way out of here so soon that the fleeting unimportance of practically every encounter that I've had lately is astonishing. PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE. It is also a skill that I do not possess. 

mal a genou

Well my recent attempt at a complete self improvement overhaul has slowed to something a little to close to a halt for my taste. I'm exaggerating, of course but this is my third day of not being able to run because of the sharp shooting pain that has developed in both of my knees, most likely caused by the wrong shoes and a little too much too fast on the running front. or just a general lack of knowing what I'm doing... which is usually the culprit behind any ill informed venture. I thought this whole diet and exercise thing was supposed to be for my BENEFIT. WHAT GIVES?

 I am not pleased.
Also decent running shoes are astoundingly expensive.

But, of course if I can spend eighty bucks on make up, I can most certainly cough up a hundo for a decent pairs of kicks.

New job is decent, one more day of training and then I'll be on my way to attempting to make as much money as humanly possible in the one month that I have left here in good ol' Cleveland. I like the staff, definitely a higher caliber of individuals than at the other gig, that is with out question.

It's really strange though. This whole prospect of moving away to au pair in France seems to have brought out the best in me vis a vis work ethic, organization, drive, and general joie de vivre... yet it still doesn't feel real. I guess it won't until I'm on the plane repeating holyshitholyshitholyshit the whole way over the Atlantic... but still. Work kind of flies by, or at least it did today. Really gotta get that mis en place shit down though damn. But yeah... I have more or less stopped caring about other's opinions of me, which... I realize now played a huge part into my general malaise. I really just don't give a fuck. That is to say that, sans my notorious antics that have driven me to the status of veritable social pariah, I think I'm actually I pretty decent individual. I'm just not about to go and try to prove that to everyone that still maintains that I am "bat-shit insane" as someone so eloquently put it last summer.

The whole thing is kind of laughable, all in all. And they do say that people hate what they fear... or something like that. I don't know. I do know however that this quote really made my day.

"The unexamined life is not worth living for a human being" -Socrates

Ain't that the truth.

T-minus 40 some odd days until departure.

Paris is my Paris

Well thats a month of my life that I will never get back. I'm definitely not getting paid fairly for it, if I get paid at all. And I wish I could say that I learned a valuable lesson- some sort of revelatory new thought before I leave the country... but no. Just another case of putting a little to much faith in someone I considered a friend only to have it blow up in my face.

I'm not going to bitch and moan about it because in all honesty, the whole situation pales in comparison to some others in terms of being completely fucked. It's merely the most recent example of the continuous message that this town has been sending me seemingly since the time that I arrived.

GET.OUT.OF.HERE.NOW. 

And though my previous attempts at escape have been marred with mistakes and bad decisions... even a few trips to the psych ward for good measure. I think I finally have this more or less figured out.

For one, I am not an inherently bad person. I know this deep down. I have, however done some inherently bad things. And unfortunately some of these said things have happened in a very public arena. I have a bad reputation. This reputation is warranted. I can accept this. I can change the things that have gotten me here. I can move towards improvement. I can accept my character flaws as flaws and put in the hard work to try to eradicate them as best as I can. Though admittedly, even as recently as earlier this year I did not believe these statements to be true, I have come to the conclusion that all of them are. It is not to late for me to start over and be the person that I've always been deep down, just without all the problems.

I just cannot do it here.

There is only so much fuckery that a person/group of people/town/city can put up with and I'm convinced I'm way past my max. 

So I'm leaving.

Not just the city. Not just the state. But the country. (sticking around in the same hemisphere for now)

I'm leaving behind my family, which is sad... a handful of friends, really decent people, which is also sad. My cat... probably the saddest.

I'm also leaving behind droves of acquaintances that feel either pretty strongly or pretty neutral towards me. Hopefully more neutral than anything... but I suppose that if that were the case I wouldn't be so hellbent on my departure. Maybe I'm oversensitive or exaggerating, but I'd like to think that my perception is pretty accurate. 

So, Cleveland... you've won. I'm leaving. I hope that things are better here without me. I'm sure they will be, I'm just a little to square to fit into your nonsensically shaped holes.

Wait, who am I kidding. Cleveland, you're still going to have to stay here forever. I don't, I'm leaving.

I win.

OH MY GOD I DON'T CARE