p a p e r d o l l

Ok so if you know me at all, you will know that I LOATHE being made to feel like I have to be a certain way or do a certain thing. LOATHE. However, that’s what apparently comes with living in a house filled with people who are unbelievably convinced they know you well. It’s not everybody, fine. It’s a few people. Still. You act friendly with them and they think you like them a lot and want to spend all your free time with them.

One person is more often than not in the house watching movies in the den. And he knocks on my door from time to time to ask what I’m doing and whether I’d like to watch something or other. I feel bad saying no, because I did watch a couple of movies with him, but no, I don’t feel like it. And then he looks like a sad puppy and what am I supposed to do? Feel bad? Please. Why do I not want to watch a movie with him anymore? Because he says I have a Chinese accent (what is that?!) and he doesn’t understand me sometimes. Well, I don’t understand him sometimes either because he doesn’t speak clearly. And one day I was going out and he asked me where I was going and so I said I was going to wander around as usual. And he looked like he wanted to join me, so in the spirit of being nice, even though I really wanted personal time, since living with housemates AND a room-mate can get claustrophobic, I asked if he wanted to join me. When we were out, he said he liked to have a destination in mind and hated getting lost and I said I liked it, and that was probably the only things we said to each other in exchange because he does not understand the meaning of a conversation. DIALOGUE, BOY! Not monologue. Not uncomfortable silence. Both are bloody tiring. And I really didn’t want you to come along in the first place anyway.

And then there’s this other guy who keeps saying he hasn’t seen me around the house, like I’m what? Under house arrest? And then I don’t really want to talk to him because I don’t like talking to him that much. So I am curt and he asks in this very concerned voice whether I’m okay. And I say yea and then he overhears me asking this girl whether she still wants a single room that is up for grabs because she did tell the management before me that she would like it. And this guy who somehow thinks I’m not okay follows me to the kitchen and asks why I want to move and again, WHETHER I’M OKAY. Yes I’m okay! (Damn it, I think to myself, leave me alone already.) And then he’s NOT CONVINCED and he asks one more damn time and so of course I’m understandably irritated (a little) and so I avoid eye contact, and what does he say? He says, (brace yourself) “Are you sure? Because some girls are, you know, PSYCHOLOGICALLY CHALLENGED”. What the hell! What makes him think he has me pegged? We didn’t even know each other existed two weeks ago.

Yes I hear you my friends, I need to simmer down. It’s difficult to be nice all the time and not be able to bitch to anyone. I would bitch to my mama, whom I talk to often, but I don’t want her to worry. I’m fine, really. I just needed to let out the frustration. And yes I’m thinking of moving to a single room, because sharing a room is difficult. I don’t like it and I don’t want to learn to like it, because I’m pretty sure I won’t.

Frustrations like that aside, I had a nice day out yesterday with a friend. It’s good that he’s here and that we get along well. What a relief to have a bitching/shopping/admin shit/tourist friend. Visited Palais de Luxembourg which houses the Senate, since all governmental buildings in Paris were opened over the weekend to the public. It’s a gorgeous building and the interior took my breath away. Then lunch and major bitching session and shopping and a delicious and mercifully reasonably priced Japanese dinner.

I had another picnic at the Tour Eiffel on Wednesday and there were new people met from different countries. Had a good time which included harmless flirtation with this fun guy. Smokes like a chimney, plays the drums, has dreadlocks… that sort of person, you know? I realise I haven’t put up any photos at all. Shall do it soon.

Meantime, I’m getting into the hang of things, and sometimes I’m mistaken for someone who knows her way and get asked for directions, which is nice. I love when I speak to someone in French and am understood and we get a conversation going on, even if it’s only me enquiring about a bag that a friend wanted me to get for her.

French men are not all hot. It’s a big myth that they are all hot. I mean, how is that possible, really? Plus a lot of them have a balding spot at the back of their head. Combination of too much wine and too much cheese? Though they do dress better. On the whole, that is. They are certainly more forward. You get men saying suggestive bonjours or professing their love. It’s pretty fun in the daytime, scary at night, and sometimes simply annoying.

The Louvre calms me down, and so does Sephora, and it is in these two places that I’ve been spending the most time in the last week.

I’m going to be in London from Tuesday till Sunday! Old friends and new adventures await! Excited(: More admin stuff (which I don’t like) to do tomorrow but then I’m gone gone gone for a blissful week in a land where the English language rules.