An Honest Woman

Dan proposed to me last night and I accepted! I am now officially engaged. This also means that I don't have to worry about turning into Dorothy Zbornak (now, granted, I know that she married Stan, but they divorced...and for you Golden Girls fanatics...yes, I know she got married in the season finale, but you know what I mean). How did it happen? Dan already told me that he had gotten his mother's engagement ring ready for me and that a proposal was due within the next 90 days. Last Friday, he called me from Phoenix telling me that he had made lunch reservations in Nashville on New Year's Eve. Of course, I inferred that he was going to propose then. So yesterday I drive to the Nashville airport (traffic was HORRIBLE) and pick up my DK. He had brought tamales from Arizona with him and he had planned a whole meal around them. So my mom, my dad, Dan and I worked on the meal in the kitchen. Mel and Ryland played Scrabble upstairs, but were going to join us for dinner. We decided to eat in our dining room; mom put out her nicest china and set the table so beautifully. It never crossed my mind that this was odd. After dinner, Dan, Mom and Dad were getting dessert ready while I joked around with Ryland and Mel. I wanted to see if Dad had brewed any coffee when my mom whisked me away to the front entrance to dance (if you know me, this is not as odd as it sounds...I always break into spontaneous dance...and song). We then sat down, except for Mom, and Dan, who was walking into the dining room with a paper bag in his hand. Mom brought out champagne flutes and set one by each of our plates. Dan took a bottle of champagne out of his bag and said, "We have some champagne, but before we open it, there should be a reason for us to celebrate." And then it hit me. He got on one knee and said, "I wanted to ask you this in front of the people you love the most. Will you marry me?" Now, granted the entire time I was BAWLING. Good thing this wasn't in a public establishment or else I would have felt embarrassed afterwards. Of course I said yes and Dan put the most beautiful ring on my finger. It was his mother's engagement ring. I would describe it to you but I really don't know how. I'll post a picture later. So now I'm just staring at my finger while I type and I'm feeling very, very happy.

Let Bygones Be Bygones

I am so screwed. The past week I've been blissfully unaware of how close the Southern Political Science Association annual meeting is and how terribly left-field my proposal is. On a whim I decided to read the bloody thing again and I realized that I framed the entire thing as an American puzzle. It is a good thing that I took the time to read it before embarking on my outline/data analysis. Essentially what this means is that all I've been working on gives me little leverage on writing this paper that is due on JANUARY 5!!! I'm also in Bowling Green, meaning using Stat transfer etc. is effectively out of the question. Breathe, Jen, breathe. Oh, good. David wrote me back. He said to expand the analysis into a comparative study. Yay, I say. Yay. By the way, I think I should be known as the Cat Whisperer. Nora, my sister's cat, and Raffi, the pride of my parents, love me. I get them. They get me. We just get it. All right, back to work for me. I really need a drink.

"Your dad wants grandchildren. No, really."

By the way, I heard that exact phrase at least five times from at least two different family members. All right, quick update because I have a deadline looming. First things first, Dan and I have escaped the snow storm by driving south. First we visited my Grandma. We took her out to dinner at Bob Evans (her choice). This was followed by dessert at my Aunt Brenda and Uncle Bruce's. I have not seen these relatives in at least, AT LEAST, five years. It was wonderful to be reunited, but a little overwhelming as well. Why you ask? Consider the first thing that my uncle said to me and Dan, "You two should make beautiful children." This was followed by an assesment that Dan will most likely make boys. He also chided us for getting a hotel room. As he put it, we can stay with them, and, after all, his grandson was conceived in the room above. At this point Dan actually said that this was too much information. I was inclined to agree. In other news, we then went and visited my cousin Tera, her husband, and their three children. It was a lovely time. My whole extended family loves Dan. How could they not? We then drove to Parkersburg, WV, where Dan and I stayed in our favorite hotel, the Blennerhassett. This hotel is quite the gem. It is a historic hotel and features a cozy library, spacious rooms, and a four-star retaurant, complete with a pianist. Dan surprised me by getting us the William Morris suite, which I confused with Philip Morris. Oops. The shower boasted more than five showerheads so that water was coming at you from all directions. I'm not going to lie, I was made for these kinds of hotels. While I was there I kept on thinking of my bedbug infested room in London and thinking how lucky I am. One does not fully appreciate what one has until she is almost eaten alive by bed bugs. And now I'm in Bowling Green, where I'm researching members of parliament. I will update more later. Until then, enjoy this picture of the William Morris suite. Shoot, it won't load. Just paint a picture in your head.

Movies to Watch

I am so excited for Atonement. There is nothing I like better than romance and war. The film looks absolutely beautiful and I've already fallen - hard - for the score. I feel incredibly guilty for saying this, but I love Keira Knightley. I just think she is lovely. I wish I was as waifish as she. Unfortunately, my love of food, my lack of discipline and my glacially slow metabolism will simply not allow it. I can actually feel my arm fat jiggling as I type, no joke. Shameful. I think my steady diet of celebrity gossip has made me ultra-aware of my weight. I am constantly confronted with pictures of who's up and who's down, and I think to myself, "How the hell did she get down?" I can't seem to lose a pound! Of course, I imbibe way too much alcohol and live off of cookies. I wasn't going to do this on this blog. You know, talk about weight. But it is something I cannot stop thinking about. It is difficult because Dan sees me struggle and sees me cry about it, and he tries to help me the best he can, but his help isn't what I want to hear. He asks me what I had for dinner and encourages me to eat less. I want him to tell me that I don't need to lose weight, not stop eating all of those cookies. I want Dan to tell me that I look lovely, not that my stomach looks bigger. I walk this tightrope of not wanting to starve myself again, of wanting to be normal, and longing for my old, taut self. I was once the girl who couldn't fit into adult clothes. A size zero would fall off of me. I was the girl who weighed less than 90 pounds. And then I think about the collateral damage...and I reach for my Oreos and get fatter. I want to disentangle goodness, discipline and integrity from a number on a scale. But I don't want to be fat. And that leads to this vicious cycle. As I said before, I didn't want to bring this up again. Not writing about it was stupid as it is all I think about. I don't know how I'm going to handle tomorrow night. Allison and I are hosting a holiday party. I know what I normally do: I eat too much, I drink too much, and then I feel like an utter piece of crap the next day. I always tell myself before I go out that I will feel horrible if I pig out. And yet my resolve crumbles the minute I enter the party. If only I could tap into that discipline I had long ago. I will seriously try. I will write on Sunday to let you all know how I did.

The Economist or Vogue?

Oh Jezebel, how I love thee. Here, in a nutshell, is why I almost always choose Vogue (in all seriousness, I am contemplating giving up meat):

Will The "End Of Cheap Food" Make Us Thin Again?

Dollarmenunaires take note, it's the END OF CHEAP FOOD, says the latest Economist! (Summary: corn prices are way up bc there's way more demand for corn from two constituents -- cars and cows. The cars are being driven by Americans, who decided to subsidize the use of corn-based "pollution solution" biofuels, and the cows are being eaten by the Chinese, who have more money now that Communism is over.) Okay, so here's where my interest comes in: does this mean Americans are finally going to get thinner; as a result of getting "greener"! I read the whole freaking story to find out...

And ugh, you know what? When filling up an SUV with pollution-free fuel wastes enough corn to feed a poor person for a year, it looks like a kinda silly policy:

The expansion of ethanol and other biofuels could reduce calorie intake by another 4-8% in Africa and 2-5% in Asia by 2020. For some countries, such as Afghanistan and Nigeria, which are only just above subsistence levels, such a fall in living standards could be catastrophic.

Anyway, the whole story is really depressing, with tales of tortilla riots in Mexico and price controls being used to mind-control in Venezuela, which is why I stopped reading and picked up Vogue. And there was a pic of Agyness Deyn. Bicycles are so hot right now! Much better solution.

Nach Deutschland

I am attempting to write a letter of recommendation while staring longingly at Vanessa Bruno's collection on net-a-porter.com. I love this line so much. If I had the semblance of a decent income, I would buy myself at least, AT LEAST, three pieces. Unfortunately, I would look ridiculously out of place wearing these beautiful pieces. Michigan is utterly uninspiring when it comes to fashion, especially while we suffer through the winter. If I see another unfortunate soul traipsing around with sweats tucked into Uggs, topped oh-so-creatively with a North Face fleece, I will puke. Oh sigh. Luckily, it looks like next year I will be in Europe and that means I will enjoy a sweatpants free year.

Hump Day

Today is just one of those days I wish I could fast forward. I have so much to do that is simply mind-numbing or unpleasant. Plus, it is cold and snowy outside, which is unfortunate given that my boots are not holding up well. So this morning is filled with GSRA work, whcih is followed by Isabel's visit to the vet that determines whether she has to have another surgery. Afterward, I have my French meet-up group. For some reason, I have no desire to go. At least Project Runway is on tonight, otherwise I would have nothing to keep me going.

Sore

I ran 12 miles today. I am exhausted.

It's A Wonderful World

I am back at Sweetwater's in downtown Ann Arbor and it feels fantastic! I am transported to the end of fall semester first year. On a crazy whim, I decided to leave the main campus area and work in this little place I always saw but never entered. I quickly made it my own, working here every day. This place was a welcome reprieve from college life. Professionals come here. Graduate students of all stripes come here. The interior is tasteful. It doesn't smell. Now that I live in the burbs I never make it here. Yet today, after a morning of working out and Christmas shopping, I desired to continue feeling like a grown-up. And so I'm here. Isabel and Dan are on great terms. She is always sitting on his lap and she looks so content. I am so happy to see that they are friends. Last night was great. A group of us went to Cafe Habana for happy hour. I love this new place. The place replicates a swank club in Havana circa 1930. We ended up staying there and having a lovely time. Overall, I'm just happy. That is why I decided to post. Now this post feels pointless. All apologies. Now back to work!

What Gives? What Helps?

When I don't post for a while I feel like I have to do one of those catch-up blogs. No way. I will mention that Thanksgiving was lovely, although Grandma did condemn us all to hell again in her Thanksgiving prayer ("...but we don't deserve your love Lord, we deserve to go to Hell"....that Grandma: not one to mince words). I worked at home the first two days back and I'm so excited to be with the magical delights that are Bisous Cat and Isabel. I think they are happy that Dan and I are back too. Working alone all day makes one a little crazy. My god, I felt so lonely. I am so paranoid too. Perhaps rightly so, but my friends are too nice to confirm my suspicions. Maybe one of the downsides to having a boyfriend is being lonely. I mean, I don't really hang out with anyone besides Dan and David and two really great friends. Well, I do have my girls. And my running. I had a presentation today at the International Center for the Center for European Studies. I was very happy with it. The next presentation, by an undergraduate, was completely wretched and shocking. When the student described watching oral sex in a bar, my jaw dropped. Ken saw this and gave me a wink. And people fund this? I'm so judgemental. But at least I had a cute outfit, which everyone knows absolves one's sins completely. I'm so utterly Catholic, no matter how may times I go to my mega-Church. Seriously. Put me in a habit. I'm drinking wine right now, which is very Catholic (big C). And now back to work.

If That's All There Is

So I'm really frustrated right now. My French is terrible and I have no idea how I can improve it. I basically burned any bridges with the French department here by dropping out of FR235. I am regretting not sticking with the class, although it met three times a week and in the morning. Anyway, I don't know how to remedy this. Should I go back to Eurocentres? I am hardly attending to my prospectus, which makes me wary to promise to review my French on my own. Any advice would be very much appreciated! So here is some good news: the cell and biology people were able to retrieve all of my information off my hard drive and for a relatively low price. Since my computer is still on warranty, I am going to get a new hard drive and all will be well in the world. By the way, I have a massive inferiority complex when I go into a biomedical research building (this was my first time, by the way, but I believe this to be generalizable). Here are real doctors doing very important research. I feel this reality check is a good thing.

Bad News Bears

Sunday, according to some random magazine article I read, is the most depressing day of the week. I agree. I am in the fishbowl, doing my RA work. And here is where I drop the bombshell...my hard drive died. Yes, on the computer that I've had since April. I know. I know! It's devastating. Luckily, it is still on warranty. The bad part is that our IT guy was unable to retrieve any of the information off of it. Instead, I have to PAY for the cell and developmental biology people to see what they can recover. All of my work from this summer...gone. Back-up your stuff. If you already have, then very good. In other news, my presentation on Friday went very well...better than expected, in fact. Now back to work.

Don't get any big ideas...

All I have to say is that I absolutely love this new Radiohead CD. I can't stop listening to it. Oh and bloody hell, I've GAINED weight, despite running every day and eating nutrition bars instead of bagels. Boo.

But Where Were the Paps?

I felt like old school Lindsay Lohan, minus the coke and the arrests. Oh, and the purported flings with Jude Law. But other than that, I felt just like her. David's birthday was Friday. It started off innocently enough. We went to Shalimar, ate some delicious Indian food and delectable cake from Zingerman's. Immediately afterward, we headed to Bar Louie, the type of place I imagine would have a strictly enforced popped-collar policy. After wrangling a table, we were met with a steady stream of people. Everyone was there: professors, old cohort members, random cohort members. Then the craziness began. It suddenly became a competition to see who could drink more. Round of shot followed round of shot. We were singing at the tops of our lungs, wishing the place had karaoke. Or maybe it was just me. If so, boy is my face red. Anyway, we all stumbled out of there when the bar owners flipped on the lights. Perhaps this seems normal. If you are undergrad, then I wouldn't dare argue with you. But for us to act like this was completely out-of-control. When I woke up the next morning, I thought how the hell do Hollywood starlets do this? I'm exhausted. And then I understood why some people cannot possibly fulfill their professional duties due to exhaustion. Heaven knows I couldn't.

Bitter Sweet

Goodness, I have the sweetest boyfriend (and cats...a shout out to Bisous Cat and Isabel!). Came home yesterday, expecting to see the messy family room I had left this morning. Opened the door and to my surprise, no lights were on, but a single candle on the kitchen table and a small Christmas tree in the corner of our family room. The entire place was picked up. Dan came out of the extra room, smiling. He had purchased the tree that afternoon especially for me. All together now: awwww. I am still smitten after a year. Sad news: there has been massive flooding in the Mexican state of Tabasco, and especially its capital, Villahermosa. My favorite aunt and my cousins are all in that same exact city. I've spent two full summers in Villahermosa as a child and I'm quite fond of the place. My aunt and my cousin, Coco, are separated due to the floods. Please keep them, and all of the inhabitants of Villahermosa, in your thoughts (if you are secular) and prayers (if you are not).

Consensus Agreement

I mentioned my anticipation for the Spice Girl reunion to Dan, Charles, and David while we were watching the Colts-Patriots game. Apparently it is wrong.

Zigazigah

Is it so wrong that I'm excited about the new Spice Girls?

Happy Halloween Allison Parker

Bloody hell, I have hit a plateau. I cannot, for the life of me, get working. I was hitting a nice pace earlier in the afternoon and now I'm just flat-lining. Bloody hell. I'm stuck in a dilemma. Hardly anyone asks me to get a beer with her anymore and that hurts my feelings. Truth be told, if she did, I'd be hesitant because (a) I have to run this afternoon, you understand, and (b) I'm trying to avoid gaining any more weight. I know, I know, I shouldn't worry so much, but I can feel it on my bum when I run. Not good, not good. One too many pumpkin bagels, if you must know.

Why Does It Always Rain on Me?

So today started off miserably, but it has gotten slightly better. Today I was greeted by the nice, warm feeling of feline feces between my toes as I stepped into the kitchen to make my coffee. Nice. I sprayed Lysol all over the place after picking up Isabel's "gift" and began the rest of my day, confident that the worst had passed. About an hour later, I put in my right contact and was instantly hit by this searing pain. My eye felt like it was on fire and I couldn't open it, which is, quite frankly, terrifying. This feeling plus the pain caused me to let out a blood-curdling scream (Dan's description). By the way, that was the first time I've ever done that out of pain. Dan heard me, obviously, and ran into the bathroom. He helped pull apart my eyelids so I could remove my contact. Afterwards, I went to the eye doctor and it appears that everything is okay. My eye is just irritated by the Lysol. I feel rather dumb. In other news, I finally saw Jyl's place. On our way back from Bloomington, Dan and I stopped in Indy to say "hullo" to Jyl. Let me just say that I love her place! Dan and I had a lot of fun grabbing brunch with her, visiting the IMA, and downing espressos in her lovely pad. It was a nice way to end a successful trip. Now I'm about to run. I'm wearing glasses and I feel rather idiotic. At least I won't be running with those goggle-things on. And with that, I bid you adieu.

Time and Truth Tell All

I'm in Bloomington and it feels strange. Dan and Derek are presenting their paper at the law school and I decided to tag along. By the way, they are impressed by the campus. I took them to the Irish Lion last night and Derek declared it Staffordshire, he loved it so much. I'm thrilled that they are so enamored with the school and town! So one of the reasons for coming was to get as much work done as possible. I thought that here in Bloomington I wouldn't be bombarded with the constant distractions like I am in Ann Arbor. I'll get to that later. Another reason for coming was to grab a pumpkin bagel. Why? Because they are AWESOME and they don't sell them in Ann Arbor. After my run (I'm still on track with my marathon training--yay!), I beelined it to Bloomington Bagel and now I know why I was compelled to write a poem about a bagel my sophomore year in college. They just taste really, really great here. They do. Much better than in Ann Arbor. Grabbing that little slice of heaven was the closest I got to being productive all day. I did get a little bit of reading done, but the rest of the day I was running around meeting people...which is exactly what I DIDN'T want to do. I'm also feeling strange. First, I have so many mixed feelings about this place. I've experienced some pretty wonderful things here, and some pretty crappy things too. I think about how excited I was my freshman year finally to leave Newburgh. And then I think about my obsession with being perfect and getting out of Indiana, and all the pain it brought, internally and externally. I've decided that I'm a different person now and enough time has passed that I can just accept this place; it is not responsible for what I endured. On a completely different note, does anyone have a place they would recommend for a nice dinner tomorrow night? Anyway, I'm going to get back to my reading. Seriously, if anyone has any suggestions, leave them in the little comments section. That's what it's for!

Homo Economicus

I paid a big fat zero, ZERO, pounds for the new Radiohead CD.* Why? Because I'm a rational actor. *For those of you who do not know, Radiohead is making their new CD available on-line to download. One can pay as much or as little, including nothing, for it.

Immune System of Steel

I think I finally broke. My throat is sore, my nose is stuffed and I am tired. Yes, for the first time in years, I am sick. Yuck.

Call Me Irresponsible

What a very strange, strange day: I've been running into old students, feeling under the weather, feeling sparks, feeling dizzy and feeling extremely irresponsible. First things first. Like most days this week, I got up much later than I had intended to and I still managed to feel exhausted. I then went and ran my three miles, except that these three miles could have been the hardest three miles I've ever ran. I have no idea why I felt like I couln't finish. I did finish though, and felt proud of myself for doing so. Later, on my walk to the office, I ran into an old student. After our conversation (stilted as all conversations with former students tend to be), I was overcome by my desire to smoke a cigarette. This need to smoke has been a constant for about two weeks now. Each time, I supress it, but today was different. But I already told you that. So I bought a pack of cigarettes and lit up. I won't lie: I felt cool. And incredibly dizzy. My God was I dizzy. And THEN I ran into another old student who was talking to someone who looked very familiar. Now, granted, I could only see his back. It turned out to be my crush from the French class I took second year. He looked very happy to see me. He looks the same, and trust me, that is a good thing. There were sparks, which worries me. I am very devoted to Dan and I am unaccustomed to having chemistry with other individuals. And then I noticed I had this bloody cigarette dangling from one of my hands. Oh crap! Smoking is very stigmatized here and I felt like a dizzy fool. We had a rushed conversation and I don't know whether or not to write on his facebook wall. This is the kind of chemistry that isn't just felt by one person. Such are the travails I face. I then had to go to an eye exam. I love my eye doctor! Our personality types are so compatible. Unfortunately, he had to dilate my eyes and now everything is blurry. I smoked another cigarette and it felt horrible. I thought I was going to puke. I then bought a pack of animal crackers to counteract the effect. Note that I was tempted to smoke in order to lose some of this ghastly weight I have packed on my abdomen and what do I do? I run to the vending machine and buy a pack of processed junk. See!? Smoking normally makes people not want to eat; however, it has the opposite effect on me. So now I'm typing this entry after a 30 minute nap on my floor. It is gray and rainy. I have a lot of work to do and I've been entirely unproductive. Dan and I head to Kentucky tomorrow. I'm excited to see my parents and perhaps some sunshine.

If Only...

Dan and I have a penchant for posing like we are in a romantic comedy. I suppose if we were to make a film it would be a 1930's type screw-ball comedy. Since we are lacking time, motivation, and resources to make such a film, we choose to strike these ridiculous poses instead. Enjoy. Oh, and I ran five miles today. I didn't drink any wine. I read new entertainment blogs. Two out of three isn't too bad. Tomorrow I have 3 miles on my plate, as well as 0 glasses of wines, 1 quick glance at perezhilton.com, and 1 chapter of a non-work related book to read. I will update accordingly.

Cha-Cha-Changes

Two entries in a row, I know. This morning I woke up and I thought I really have to make some changes. Normally, I write the changes I'd like to initiate and then promptly ignore them. Not this time, my friends, not this time. I'm serious about making changes for the better and I thought, why not write my goals on this blog where I may be held accountable? So I mentioned that I felt lethargic the other day? It's true. And I just feel gross over-all. Here are my goals: 1) Train for a marathon. I downloaded the schedule and I've been running for so long that I think I can follow it. 2) Track my finances. I'm 25 years old and it really is about time. 3) Don't drink during the week and drink a maximum of two glasses of wine at a sitting. I've been feeling like a lush and it's not good. 4) Read more books. Goodness knows I have enough of them. 5) Read fewer blogs and more serious news. My celebrity addiction is out of control. I promise to read Perezhilton.com only once a day.

Ketchup

It is bloody hot for October. Fall is my favorite season and I rather feel like I'm getting gypped. Anyway, here are some updates after my long absence. 1) Dan and I went to Albany, New York, for a wedding. Jessica and Shanna also went, and we saw Heather (who I met in Boston). I also met the famous Monica and generally all of Dan's oft-mentioned friends from the Ford School. It was rather a difficult situation for me just because I felt like I was clinging to Dan and Jess. When you don't know many people, it is terrifying to be left on your own. The wedding itself was beautiful. It was held on the bride's family estate overlooking the Hudson. That is me and Dan before the ceremony. I did have a really good time on the dance floor and I really liked Dan's friends. It was great to see him in his element; he is such a funny guy! 2) Bisous Cat and I are best friends. Somehow, we've just bonded. When I take naps, she sleeps by me. When I do my pilates, she interrupts me by rubbing her adorable little head against my not-so-adorable one. Unfortunately, Isabel is still in her little room and now she has to wear an e-collar (one of those things that look like a lamp shade). Oh the indignity! Here is a picture of my girls; the first one is from Isabel's more halcyon days. 3) On the work front, Ken really liked my Jean Monnet paper. This surprised me. He thinks it is publishable. I'm not so sure. I am back to my original dissertation project, which has become more interesting of late, thanks to Paper Stones. Other good news on the work front is that I am 100% committed to political science ::golf claps::. 4) Health wise, I have been sleeping A LOT. Like an unhealthy amount. I get at least 8 hours of sleep a night and then take an hour nap in the afternoon. The rest of the day I feel lethargic and sleepy. Either I am turning into a cat or something is wrong. It is kind of freaking me out. So that is my latest update. Now back to work for me and a good day to you!

A Complete 180?

I may be ready to do a complete 180 on my dissertation topic. This frightens me.I mean, think of all the time I spent abroad! All the contacts I made! It's times like these when I think about one of my favorite lessons from undergraduate: the idea of "sunk-costs." This elegant theory dictated my decisions on more mundane topics, such as whether to finish a boring book that I was close to completing (I'd put it down), but I had never applied it to larger questions in life. And now here I am, after 3 months in Europe and countless hours in the archives. The truth is, I had a meeting with a professor today regarding a paper we wanted to write, which was on a topic that I was going to make my dissertation. I was loathe to begin working on it; the idea left me cold. Conversely, last night I had typed furiously an idea I had about a topic. I was so excited! I went around book store to book store, scouring the shelves for books on my new topic, filled with a kind of fervor and excitement that I hadn't experienced in ages. The truth is that if I were to change my topic, it may be a substantial investment to return to where I am now. We're talking about possibly acquiring new language skills (or jettissoning any idea of having language skills at all). I am very scared. Liz, did you go through multiple research topics? Does anyone have any advice?

While I was staring at you with calm affection, you were searching out my imperfections.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people point out a stain on your shirt. Yes, I know it's there. What do you want me to do about it? I'm no Girl Scout! I don't have a backpack full of extra shirts that I could don. Plus, I JUST got this stain today. I was drinking coffee in my noble attempt not to fall asleep right on top of this keyboard. I don't think people SHOULDN'T point things out. For instance, let me know if I have spinach between my teeth. I'd thank you and discretely fish it out. There are two differences between these two scenarios. The first is in the ease of remedy: how quickly can I fix the situation? Chances are it is a lot easier to get rid of the spinach than it is to get rid of the stain. A fly is easier to zip than a tear is easier to sew. Second, how likely is it that the person is aware of the "problem"? I may not know that I have food in my teeth, but I probably realized that I got coffee on my shirt when I, uh, spilled the coffee. So, I would peg comments about a not-easily remedied and obvious snafus as rude and unneccessary. That is all.

What Ever Happened

I'm sitting in my office when I should really be in the chemistry building, enduring my last five minutes of French. Sigh. I am definitely changing that class to an audit. The amount of homework in it is insane; I cannot keep up with that as well as my RA work and work for my prospectus. This weekend I met D's parents and it went very, very well. Yay! I was so nervous! They were both very nice and we got along nicely. Is it so wrong that I think that Dan's mom and I are a lot alike? It makes me wonder if men look for women who are like their mother. Supposedly women look for people like their fathers, but I've never heard anything implying that the relationship is symmetrical. Anyway, a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Isabel My Belle

Not much to write today; it has been a fairly crappy day. Isabel broke her arm (paw?) and she is having surgery right now. I was with her at the vet's and then at the animal hospital. Frankly, I was a mess. I cried more than she did, the poor dear! I stayed up until 3:30 am working on the Jean Monnet paper. I am still not finished. I hate federalism. Please keep Izzy in your thoughts. She is a real trooper, but some moral support couldn't hurt. The picture above was taken last night. She stayed up with me to offer me encouragement. She's just like that.

While the boy plays the guitar, the girls will sing.

I'm working in my delicious new office, which I've been told smells. My office has a window and dammit if I don't love it. I don't smell the presumed odor, which makes me wonder: maybe it's me? Gulp. It's Saturday and today Michigan could possibly redeem itself by defeating Oregon. We are going to the game. Erin is in from DC and I will meet up with her prior to kick-off. Then I will join the rest of the poli-sci crew to watch the game. I hope to God that there aren't any annoying undergrads next to me (I'm looking at you transfers from NY). Last year I was thisclose to throwing one down the stands and onto the field. I hate to say it but it's true: Michigan undergrads are the country's worst. It's a veritable douchebag convention. In other news, Dan is very excited about the game, given that he used to play football for the Ducks. I asked him if Joey Harrington knew his name and he gave me a very annoyed look and said, "Yes, Bisous. He held the ball for me." Those football teams are awfully big. That's all I was thinking. Last night Dan and I went to Derek's for a welcome back party. It was pretty fun, minus Dan pleading for a dog after we saw Ronin. No! No dogs! On Friday I should have this bloody Jean Monnet paper finished. I'm trying to update Lijphart's consensual versus majoritarian scores. Why the hell hasn't anyone done this FOR ME? Geez. Okay, back to work. Have a lovely Saturday.

Victory!

Yesterday I passed my American prelim and I am thisclose to being a candidate! I only need to have a few key players sign my plan of course work sheet and then I can join the legions of others sweating over their dissertations. I can't hardly wait. In light of yesterday's events, I am having difficulty concentrating on my work. Over the past few days Dan has been treating me like a princess and to thank him, I promised to make him a scrumptious meal (Dan normally is in charge of meals, while I am the humble yet very helpful sous chef. Actually, I usually imbibe a glass of wine while half-heartedly chopping vegetables. Now that I think about it, I really shouldn't mix knives and alcohol.). So after my workout, I headed to the farmer's market in Kerrytown to buy a few choice ingredients. It was a perfect day to be there: the weather was absolutely lovely, the market was teeming with people, and the produce was so colorful that I wanted to buy everything in sight. What's on tonight's menu, you ask? I am planning on making grilled striped bass with summer vegetables and couscous vinaigrette. David will be coming over to help me prepare the meal, and he and I will be watching Top Chef after we treat Dan to our wonderful meal. It sounds so nice and relaxing. I can't wait! Needless to say, I haven't been able to work. Is this okay? I know I have to finish this Jean Monnet paper. Lucky for me, the deadline has been extended, and I will have more time to make this piece something I wouldn't be embarassed circulating. So now I am going to get back to work, really, and then I will finally get to put all of my wonderful purchases to use. Life is very nice.

Backhanded Compliment OR In Desperate Need of Social Skills

It's a rainy Sunday and I'm in the fishbowl surfing the internet. I spent the entire day cleaning the house and I was determined to hit the gym around 4:30. I had already admitted to myself that I wasn't going to get any work done today. I'm just not in the mood, which is a terrible excuse, I know. I did have a lot to do this week, including submit a draft and prepare my presentation for the "Getting to Know EU" (I know) program. Anyway, I was folding clothes and I flipped the TV on to Vh1. "Rock of Love" was on and I don't know why, but I couldn't stop watching it. People are so strange! The house was half-filled with strippers, which was perfect really, since there were poles in every room. An interesting decorating choice to be sure. All of these contestants are fighting over a slightly overweight (pudgy? husky?) Brett Michaels. Why do I love bad reality TV so much? WHY? Oh the shame. On a different note, perhaps my viewing habits aren’t so harmful. For one, my love of low culture allows me to interact with people normally (humor me here). Yesterday a friend of mine (or at least I thought was my friend) gave me the most backhanded compliment. I think he needs to watch more reality television. "Jen," he began, "You have this way with people. They just really like you" At this point, I was beginning to turn pink. Oh, how nice of him! "I mean, you do this dumb blonde thing and underneath it you have this sharp mind. But you don't intimidate anyone. I can't imagine you intimidating anyone!” The smile fell from my face and I was overcome with this desire to know his glasses off his face. Instead, I summoned my inner Jackie O (who was smoking a cigarette, reading The New Yorker and was not at all pleased about the interruption). "Well," I started slowly, weighing each word carefully, "I don't think I come off as a dumb blonde and I certainly do not intend to, but I appreciate you saying that people like me." In the span of the next five minutes, he also managed to say that my boyfriend and I are made for each other because "we talk incessantly." Jackie! You’re needed!

Hiatus

After a long hiatus, I'm back. I apologize to all three of my devoted readers. So there are a lot of new developments (well, two new developments) that are worth noting. Dan and I adopted two beautiful cats. The decision to get two, rather than one, was Dan's, by the way. The shelter was having a two-for-one special, and how could we resist? Say hello to Bisous Cat (with Dan), and Isobel! Here is a favorite picture of Isobel, taken by my mac: She is helping me with my homework. In other news, today has been a perfect waste of a day. I got up late and after my workout I realized I had forgotten to pack a pair of jeans. Now I'm wearing my work-out bottoms and feeling horribly uncomfortable with myself. I am very particular about what I wear and an outfit can make-or-break my day. Ugh, you can say that these otherwise lovely WORK OUT pants have achieved the latter. In general I'm pretty disappointed with myself. If this was a movie, I would be in the midst of the exposition when the main character, dissatisfied with her life and feeling generally worthless, would jump into her jalopy and drive to her (insert female relative here) home, which is filled with women. Over the course of 90 minutes, said character would learn the meaning of her life through crocheting/cooking/pickling. Unfortunately, this is not an option for me. I hope I just have a case of the Wednesdays.

Jean Monnet

I'm working on my paper.

My Eyes are Sporting Some Major Bags

God, I'm exhausted. I'm struggling to translate these trial transcripts while the prelim and my Jean Monnet paper hangs over my head like those (momentarily) suspended anvils in Warner Bros. cartoons. It feels strange to be thinking about a different dissertation topic. If I'm gong to do this political science thing I have to be honest with myself about what I could and could not do. Could I really handle all that field work? I also hate how my puzzle is infuriatingly messy before I even begin complicating it myself. There are just too many things that I cannot control. Polisci is not for control freaks...or maybe it is? Beyond that, I've been sticking to my cleansing diet. I gained three pounds in that one week in Bowling Green. Good God! I guess eating directly from the pint of frozen custard was not exactly a wise plan? I suppose two laps in my standard suburban pool does not count as exercise? A marathon it is not. My office has no windows to the outside world. I noticed that before, but it never bothered me. It now does.

Cats are Kings, Pt. 2

My sister raises an excellent point: I go to the pantry to get a snack, hoping that maybe since they knew I was coming Mom and Dad may have stocked the pantry. I was choosing between stale Ritz crackers or slim fast bars when I find Fancy Feast "Elegant Medleys: White Meat Chicken and Egg Souffle with Garden Greens." Are things getting a little out of hand, or is it just me?

Tout Doucement

I haven't written in a while because there isn't anything to report. I've been relaxing. I did finish reading Marie Antoinette: The Journey. I was in Barnes & Nobles, but the air conditioner was on so high that it felt like a meat locker. And no, I'm not exaggerating. So I headed to Bowling Green's town square, sat on a bench, and finished the final chapters. I knew how it was going to end. SPOILER ALERT! They cut off her head. I cried. Yes, I shed tears. You know how long it has been since a book made me cry? No, of course not. Well, it was a long time. We're talking at least a half a decade. Although I essentially took a class on the French Revolution, I found the book radically altered my opinion of the entire mess. I remember my French teacher in Paris last year (ironically, her name was Dauphine) saying how Marie Antoinette wasn't well-loved in France. This biography was very sympathetic to her and I wonder if people's opinions would change if they read this book. Dan is flying into Nashville tomorrow! I'm so excited! We are going to make my parents dinner and then on Saturday, my dad will be making his famous, and utterly delicious, paella. The culinary delight which has been my trip to Bowling Green continues. And on that note, I am going to bed...on a full stomach.

Where Cats are Kings

Bowling Green, Ky. Saturday morning. Yes, after 24 hours worth of travel, I thought, what the heck, and drove eight hours south-east to Bowling Green, KY. It was worth every minute that some redneck in a Ford truck tried to drive me off the road. Talk about culture shock! Gone was my gay Paris and its delicate manners. In its place was conspicuous consumption, couples on motorcycles, their arm fat flapping in the wind, and men barrelling down the highway in monster-sized red trucks. But now I am in Bowling Green, KY, where cats are kings. I was thrilled to see my parents! We went out to eat at Garcia's, where my mom and dad know everyone who works there, and then headed home, where we doted on Raffi and Frida, our cats. These cats are incredibly spoiled. It even makes me sick. Now I am going to be leisurely and read by the pool. The first things my parents said was that I was so pale. Given that Paris was rainy and cold, I didn't find this observation the least bit surprising. But now I'm going to make a come-back. No way am I going to let my red-headed (RED-HEADED!) sister be darker than me. No way.

I'm Back, Bitches

Holla! After a hellish travelling experience (boo British Air, boo), I am stateside. Above is a picture to prove it. By the way, it is 3:44 am Paris time and I am exhausted. A longer entry will follow when I am coherent.

MacDo

As someone who does not have wireless in my dorm, I find myself going to McDonald's frequently to take advantage of their free and unlimited wireless. I go to the crowded register, buy a medium coke zero (zeROH), and try to find a place to sit. You see, the McDonald's here are not only very nice and chic, but are also incredibly crowded. And in my normal haunt, by the Dernfert Roucherereau metro stop, there is nary another American in sight. This article describes exactly what I see every day. This may surprise some of you. In fact, crazily enough, I ran into Jenna and Scott on Satuday (they are two professors for whom I've done RA work consistently). This was Scott's first time in Paris, and when I suggested they go to McDonald's to use wifi, he remarked, "Well, that's one way to get the French in a McDonald's." I didn't want to say anything, but most of the McDonald's I pass are packed, and not all of them have wifi. This article confirms, however, what I have inferred: McDonald's are popular with the French (and other Europeans for that matter).

Rambling, Where to Begin?

What a wonderful day! I just had a very successful interview with the councilor of the 19th Arrondissement who created a movement for equality within the Socialist Party. I also got to see a more normal side of Paris. Everyone was incredibly kind and I think I got some really good stuff in this interview. My subject definitely delivered less of the party line and was candid about how things really work. ALSO...I decided to explore the Oberkampf area, which is supposedly very hot right now. I stopped by a North African patisserie mentioned here in the NY Times and had two delicious pastries. If there is one thing I hate doing while on vacation it is seeing all the tourist sites and being engulfed in a sea of tacky knick-knacks, petulant children, and a feeling of disappointment. Another problem is the expectation of some sort of feeling.* In one scene in Lost in Translation, Scarlett Johanson's character is on the phone with her mother and she is commenting on how she went to a Japanese temple but she didn't feel anything. I know exactly what she is talking about. I often visit these sites but I feel nothing. Nothing at all. On the other hand, when I go into neighborhoods that are alive and not open-air museums, I feel the energy of the city and tempo of its citizens' lives. Today was one of those days. *Not all tourist sites merit these criticisms, but I generally do feel this way.

Comme des professionels

Ah, I did it. I did my first interview with a French party member ::golf claps:: It went off without a hitch. Got you! In typical Jen-style, the interview did not come off smoothly. First, we met at different places. I was at Gare de Lyon and he was at Porte Vanves. I didn't quite understand the word though since his stop is not well-known. Here is a morcel of our conversation: Me: I'm at Gare de Lyon. Him: Oh! Zoot! I'm at Porte de qskdfjmqskdjfmklqsd (unintelligble French name, complete with a lot of nasal sounsd). Could you meet me here as soon as possible? Me: Sure. So you are at Porte d'Orleans? Him: No, Porte d'adfjsldkjfl. Me: I'm sorry, I didn't understand you. Him: It's not Porte d'Orleans, although it is near it. It's Porte de rehaoero. Me: Porte de Rhone? Him: No, it is on line 13. Me: Okay... (looking desperately at my metro map...nothing that looks at all like azlkejr) Him: Porte de qlskfj... v-a-n-v-e-s. Me, silently panicking: Got it! Unfortunately, the two are impossibly far apart in terms of metro lines. I devised what appeared to be the most direct route to get there (and here "direct" translates to "circuitous"). Seriously, I've been riding the Paris metro in preparation for this. To my utter dimay, my connecting station was closed! Oh, the horror. I dashed outside and hailed a cab. For what it's worth, the interview itself went very well. I was just horrified by my tardiness and my inability to understand French prononciation. I must have looked like such a light weight! In other news, I went chez Odette this weekend in Amboise. As always, it was wonderful! Odette now has a flat-screen tv, wireles, and is my friend on Skype. I swear, she must be the most technologically advanced 70-something in the world! And with that, I have to get back to work. À bientôt!

You've Got to Love Them

This week in Le Point, France's version of Newsweek, there was a catty little piece on Victoria Beckham. Just read this and tell me how I cannot love the French:

Halting

So I took a big step and I called the Socialist Party member in charge of "equality of chances." My French is horrible and it was embarassing. If it was in English, it would go a little like this: "Hello, here Jennifer Miller who is student doctoral." Pretty bad, eh? Non! It was not as bad as my call to SOS Racisme, when I had the guy at reception spelling out an email 5 times (and I still don't think I have it written down correctly). I deserve it for being so smug.

Greece

It's Sunday and I am feeling wonderful. This is my vacation for the year and I am spending it in Greece. I love being here! After being in a unseasonably cold London, I am actually enjoying the 90 degree weather. What makes the heat enjoyable is the lack of humidity. I arrived in Athens on Thursday evening. I was thrilled to see Dan again! We took the extremely nice metro to our hotel, which is right in front of the parliament. He was going to surprise me with a nice dinner to celebrate our one year anniversary. I was expecting a little restaurant in a crowded square. Yet to reach our restaurant, we had to board a cable car, which takes you up the side of the mountain. At the very top was this very elegant, swank even, restaurant, Orizontes, that overlooked all of Athens. What was even better is that you had a perfect view of the Acropolis. The food was delicious and the view was spectacular! The company wasn't too bad either. The next day we went to the final panel of Dan's conference, which boasted the chief justice of the European Court of Justice, and the chief justices of the supreme courts of Colombia, South Africa, and South Korea. Parellels to supreme court justices from Germany and the UK also presented. Honestly, I was bored. Dan was in his element though and we enjoyed coffee with various legal big-wigs in the courtyard of the Zapeion, the location of the conference. I now know what proper networking looks like. When I'm at a conference, I do my thing and then I head to the bar or a coffee shop. To network you ask? No, to caffeinate or to "relax." Anyway... The rest of the afternoon was spent at the Acropolis and eating Greek pastries. Saturday we took a three island cruise. I was initially unsure of the trip given that the minute we stepped onto the ship, two people dressed up in traditional Greek garb grabbed us and we had our photo taken. Think Disneyworld. Oh dear. Next, there were the Japanese travellers who were singing kareoke in the main lounge at 9 in the morning. They were on our bus to the ship and were very sedate the entire time. For this reason, I was even more shocked by the singing and dancing. Luckily, the rest of the trip wasn't so campy. We saw three islands: Poros, Hydra, and Aegina. I felt like a jet-setter (well, except when I rode a donkey at Hydra). Really though, the trip was lovely. Dan and I want to return to Greece to see Santorini. Today is our last full day here. I want a real gyro and that is my goal. As I say, aim high, aim high.

Bright Young Things

Bored, bored bored. It's my last day in London and I'm reading over trial transcripts. I wish I had something exciting and wonderful to add, but alas, I do not. I spoke to a total of three people today. Scratch that, four. All of them stood behind a cash register. I think I scared the poor lady at Marks and Spencers with my idle chatter.

Free to Be You, Free to Be Me

I have just finished my final interview in Britain and I'm feeling odd. The interview went extremely well; I couldn't have paid the man to give me better answers. As I sat across from him, drinking my coffee and listening to his responses, I felt very passionate about my work, which is a far cry from my attitude of late. Anway...so then why am I feeling odd? I don't have a bloody clue. I suppose it is because I'm leaving on Thursday to go to Greece. Dan is there for a conference and he invited me to visit him. I am very much looking forward to it. If the place looks anything like those calendars at Barnes and Nobles, then I'm going to be blown away. Sunday I went to Brick Lane. I met up with a hung-over Saladin and we proceded to eat our way through East London. Brick Lane is how I imagined the city to be. No posh white buildings with blue doors here. The place was alive, teeming with people and goods. I was in the Land of the Hipster. Ironically, I was also passing mosques left and right and the signs were in English and Urdu. Of everything I ate (and trust me, I ate a lot) it was the Bengali sweets that made the biggest impression. They were incredible! One was saffron flavored and very doughy; the other was made of fried dry milk. To balance this sweetness, I saw many "Trustfundarians."* They had to be because the prices on a lot of the goods were ridiculously high. Nevertheless, the market was such a sharp departure from the one on Portabello road. No longer were people haggling over vintage Chanel bags (::clears throat::); rather, it was whimsical dresses and fair trade leather messanger bags that were the objects of barter. I don't fit exactly in either world. I feel like I'm pretending in both. One good thing about this is that I manage to be inconspicuous in a lot of situations. I simply act like everyone around me. The drawback is that I STILL don't know who I am (and I'm 25!). Monday was spent in the Conservative Archives at Oxford, where I rummaged through old public opinion reports. One boasted of a regression analysis! Impressive if you think about it; it was 1965! Furthermore, the party research department cited Stokes. For all you political scientists out there, someone at some party HQ may be reading your stuff. As in right now. Yes, right now! Now I am off. I have to make it home in time to do RA work and watch Big Brother. Finally the claws have come out and there is no way I'm going to miss the action. *Saladin introduced me to this word. I love it because I once shared a house with a privileged bohemian (is there any other kind?!), though I don't think he listened to reggae (THANK GOD). In turn, I introduced Saladin to "douchebag." We went on a douchebag hunt at an outdoor festival. Here they are commonly known as "fops."

No Pain, No Gain

What a past two days! I have dubbed Wednesday my ultra-British day and Thursday was completely jam-packed. Before I begin, I have to report on a piece of disconcerting news: According to a recent study of distraction performed on 1,100 office workers in the UK, people who frequently juggle email or SMS with work suffer a 10-point IQ drop -- the equivalent of missing a whole night's sleep -- and more than 2X the IQ drop caused by marijuana. Oh crap. I am a compulsive email checker. I'm of the school who will refresh my page after just refreshing it because in that split-second someone could have hit send and an unread email may be waiting in my box. I feel completely lost when I don't check it. According to this study, I am making myself stupider. I might as well buy a lava-lamp, put on Dark Side of the Moon and become a stoner. So back to my life. Wednesday I was haunted by the knowledge that I had an interview the next day with the leader of the Respect party as well as with Ann Phillips at LSE. I worked furiously to catch up and I quit working at 7 pm to meet Dan to watch England's qualifying game against Estonia. We normally go to this Italian deli, but unfortunately for us, Italy was playing. We found a nearby pub that was appropriately working class. We had a blast! I ate fish and chips; Dan had a lamb burger. We sat enthralled as England delivered a beating to Estonia (for this game I dropped my normal rule of thumb: root for the country with the lower GDP unless Brazil or France is playing). The pub was completely full and there was a feeling of camaraderie. Afterwards, Dan and I caught Big Brother on Channel 4. We were curious given the fervor surrounding each episode. I was quickly hooked, but that is no surprise as I am scarily modal in my television preferences. I was afraid, however, that Dan was terribly bored. No! When I asked him if he wanted me to change the channel, he said, "No! I want to see what happens with Emily and Ziggy." He is a keeper. Yesterday was the interview. I was so nervous about it that I awoke at 5:15 am. I managed to make myself fall back asleep and got up at 7. I picked up my dry-cleaning, re-read my questions, and printed out directions to the office. Dan stopped by with my tape-recorder and we headed to the office. The office was in East London and after taking the tube we were to catch a bus. East London is not the best part of London, but I was surprised by how NOT poor it looked. Of course, this is from someone who flies out of Detroit. We ended up walking to the office, which is right by Brick Lane. The interview was all right, but I am painfully aware that my original hypothesis, developed from the American case, may not apply here. Now an important disclaimer is that I was wearing my brand new Ferragamo flats. They were very cute but were already beginning to pinch my feet. Dan and I then walked back to the station. We got in a quarrel over where to get lunch and I was alone for the meal. I then prepared for the interview with Ann Phillips. By this time, my left foot was killing me. I was limping back to my office and once inside the building I took off my shoe. Oh sweet relief! When it was time to head to LSE, I could not get my foot back in the shoe! I somehow managed to get there, but my foot was bleeding and I could barely walk. The meeting went well, but I talked too much. Typical. She did give me good contacts and was very lovely. Dan and I made up, bought a Glamour magazine with a free pair of flip-flops to calm my ailing feet. We then bought proper shoes at the nearest store, visited the British museum, and had wine and olives at the museum until 8:30. Lovely. We then ate at a famous South Indian restaurant. Toby Maguire has even eaten there! It definitely lived up to the hype. We then made it home in time to catch, wait for it, Big Brother! Ah, perfect. What a crazy and hectic day. Today will be much more low-key.

Taking Control of the Means of Production

Dateline, London. I'm in my office, sipping down the last drops of my tepid Starbucks coffee and getting ready to head to the gym. My office is deserted. In fact, no one is really here until noon and most leave by 7:00 pm. The office isn't open on weekends either. According to Dan, these kind of hours spell disaster for productivity. He went through the math one night in the tube and triumphantly told me how many hours England lost in a year. "Don't even get me started on France," he added. I thought of my work schedule, which includes all seven days and is stretched from morning to night, and then I thought of the time I was actually working, and I bit my tongue. Might as well let him think that I'm grinding away all the time instead of incessantly checking perezhilton.com. I have nailed down an interview for Thursday. It's with an ex-Trotskiest (sp?) who is also one of three paid members of the party. Wonderful. This will be a good experience, but I'm always amazed by people who still cling to Marxist ideals. I feel woefully conservative. I have not had one celebrity sighting yet, which is sad. The holy grail is Gwyneth with Moses and/or Apple in tow (I'm not picky, really). Next would be Kate Middleton. I read that Sienna and Kyra were boozing it up all weekend, but I haven't seen them either. Truth be told, unless any of them are walking around University College, I won't be seeing any celebrities.

The More You Change

I'm in heaven. I really am. I was walking to the office today and it hit me. Here I was, in London. Seriously, the city has grown on me and its charms are even more hypnotic now that Dan is here. He arrived on Saturday and we've been having a jolly good time. On that note, it has been raining and the temperature has been as low as 50. Yet Dan and I soldier on. On Monday we went to the National Portrait Museum to check out "The Face of Fashion" exhibition. Yesterday, after putting in a solid day at the office, we saw This is England, a story of a 12-year old boy in 1980's England who becomes a skinhead. The movie was really quite good. As I got up this morning I found myself thinking about the character. It also was an excellent way to familiarize myself to my topic. I saw the gloomy desperation of these working-class people and the gross hate that they dealt to immigrants. I also felt like I was less-sympathetic to the conservative outreach agenda than I had once been. This came at the point when the leader of the gang, Combo, poses a question to a friend of some of the members, Milky, who is Jamaican. He asks him, "Are you English or are you Jamaican?" At that point, Milky stared at the ground for what seemed like an intolerably long time. After the tension had built to an excruciating level, he replied, "English." Combo replied, "Good. We need more like you." Essentially, this is what a lot of the conservative outreach entails. There is slightly less of an exclusive relationship between the two identities, but the cruel choice lurks in the background. In other news, I am thisclose to buying the Blake Lewis EP on Itunes. Is this horrible? I feel like it is. I find him delightful and I love his song choices (we'll ignore that Maroon 5 selection). Now it is back to work for me.

London: Week One

This past week was very nice, if you conveniently forget the whole bed bug fiasco. The first good thing is that I have an office in the political science department at University College London. All of a sudden I have a desk and office mates. This translates into human interactions! Woot woot! I also feel like I have a set place where I can get MSD (major shit done). On my first day at the office I met these other human beings. The first was Canadaian and instantly charming. Yet as we talked I noticed that he was the prototype of a "frenemy." He just slides in these digs in everything he says, mostly about Americans. Because of his false amability he reminds me of one of Bridget Jones's friends. She had this way of saying things that made pathetic Bridget feel even more pathetic. Now Bridget knows that it is on purpose, but it is so subtle that she can't really call the person out. Luckily, my other officemate Jeremy is super cool and I can see us being friends for a long time. There is also Julio, the Argentinean political theorist. HIs English is very charming in that he speaks in a literal translation of Spanish phrases, which are very poetic but completely foreign to any saying that a native English speaker would oncoct. The four of us, as well as other graduate students in the department, went out for drinks. A professor even joined us! He is young and reminds me of the Lebanese-Chilean-English version of Mika (LCEVM for short). He and I really hit it off! We discussed everything, from Derrida's bullshit and how to tell the social class of an Englishman based on how he pronounces "house." Next week he is taking me to Brick Road. Today I went to Oxford to meet Maria, with whom I've been in contact for quite a while. As I approached Nuffield, I was instantly amazed by how much I loved the university and how excited I was to enter the department. Fiver years ago I had visited Oxford and now I was there for a professional meeting! The scene was perfect. It was raining lightly, which made the bucolic scenery just glisten. The lush green complemented the butter yellow of the stone buildings. I was in heaven. We went for lunch in this really nice cafeteria. It was gorgeous and so academic looking, complete with high vaulted ceilings, stone walls, and lamps for lighting. I found out that the school pays for staff members' dinner and lunches. We had an extremely productive conversation over Jamaican chicken and fresh fruit. Afterwards, we went back to the canteen, grabbed some coffee, and made ourselves at home at the, you guessed it, incredibly academic looking staff and student lounge. We have nothing like this at Michigan. There was a large flat-screen TV playing a cricket match, and white-haired professors chatted over (free) coffee to students Maria's fiance joined us. He was still dressed in his cricket clothes as he had practice earlier. He sat down with us and we had a really fun conversation. I learned so much in those two-hours, from British culture and the ins and outs of British party politics in, oh, the last 30 years. I was in heaven. Honestly, I could have died right then and there. I will say it: my dream is to work at Oxford, whether it be for a year (post-doc) or for a very, very long time. So now I'm in my new hotel. Why? Look at this picture: 'Nuff said. DK is coming tomorrow! I am so excited! And on that note, I'm going to bed.

Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

Cheerio! I am in London and, more specifically, my little office at University College London. This is my first time back since I spent Christmas here in 2002. So far the stay has been a mixed bag. First, the hotel I booked for this week is disgusting. My room is tiny, dark and smelly. The hotel itself has a shower that is missing two doors (they are propped on the wall next to it), won't let you change the temperature of the water, and boasts enough mildew to warrant an army of Mr. Cleans. I am also covered in bites, which I suspect are the fine work of some bored bed bugs. I don't know what to do! Part of me wants to tell the staff and ask for a new bed. I will only be at the place until Saturday morning. Dan is flying in and we are staying at a guest house for the remainder of the time. Second, the people are actually a lot nicer in Paris. Surprise! Yes, they really are. I miss my Parisians. One thing I love is taking the bus to University (in the spirit of the Brits, I am freeing my speech of that pesky article "the"). Another thing is the University itself. I love the first because I sit on the higher level of the double-decker and I eavesdrop. I really feel I learn so much from listening to natives' conversations. I love the latter because it is gorgeous. The school resembles an American university (there is a student's union, a gym, etc.), but on a smaller scale. Moreover, it is unmistakably British. The library is very academic, filled with staircases and frescoes. This contrasts with the library at Sciences Po, which looks like it was designed by the fine people at IKEA. On that note, I joined the gym because (a) I desperately need to work-out and am terrified of being hit while running (luckily for me, at every intersection the words "look right" or "look left" are painted on the pavement) and (b) the showers are far and away much nicer than the ones in my shit-hole, er, I mean hotel. Today I had a marvelous work-out and I am very happy that I found a way to avoid ever stepping into the showers at the Queen's Hotel again. And now, without further ado, I will tackle my work.

Clandestine Blog Entry

All right, so I'm writing this from a secret hallway in the Hilton. It is filled with useless junk, like a white wicker seat wrapped in tulle (hello 70's!) and a silver pelican. Why am I hiding out here? Because the Hilton loves air-conditioning. I, on the other hand, do not. I can see the time and place for air conditioning: summer and south of the Mason-Dixon line. Unfortunately, none of these two conditions hold in MONTREAL, CANADA. Good God. I found this hallway and it has no air-conditioning. Some would call it stuffy, I would call it just right. So anyway, I was a nitwit and changed my hotel for my last night in Montreal. I am staying by the airport, which is a little ways out from the city. This was a mistake. Not putting the hotel here, no, but changing from the charming Champs-des-Mars to the Hilton Montreal Airport. I should have known not to trust anything connected to Paris Hilton. Sigh. They charge you for everything, including the wireless that is allowing me to complain to all of you right now. That said, I had a delicious run this morning and got to watch The Queen last night. So the conference was a moderate success. I did an okay job at presenting my own work. Directly after my panel was the Euroskepticism panel for which I was the discussant. After being scrutinized for an hour or so, I felt remarkably at ease. Yes, no one was going to fire any tough questions to the discussant. Plus, I love an audience, so it was all gravy. And I did just say that. So Ryan Seacrest watch out. I think being an MC really is where my future is. Afterwards, I met up with Jae-Jae and headed to the reception at McGill University. It was very swank. There was free wine and caviar, as well as an impressive cheese tray. And that my friends is why studying European politics is a smart thing. The hall also looked like it was straight out of Harry Potter, which added to the mystique. Loved it! Jae-Jae and I then went out to dinner and it was lovely. She gave me a lot of great tips for conducting field work in France and pointed me to some great literature on party strategy. After our dinner, I wanted to dash back to Paris and get back to work! Jae-Jae is my new girl crush. On Friday I did absolutely nothing. I felt so drained from my running around and presenting that I felt justified in downloading the final episode of America's Next Top Model. I then went out to dinner with Sarah, Jae-Jae, Jae-Jae's co-worker at Iowa, and a bunch of UCLA people. We ate Ethiopian food and had copious amounts of wine. Life is grand. Saturday I explored Montreal. The city is nice, but I wasn't overly-impressed. Perhaps I didn't see the right things? I feel badly for not making the most of this conference. I didn't know whether or not I should go to panels on Saturday given that I didn't have the right clothes (aka, jeans and a polo shirt). I felt if I went to the panels than I would have regretted not exploring the city. And I explored the city and now I regret not attending the panels! Does anyone have any thoughts on this? I should have at least attended one! Oh Jen! Today I've been doing work for Atran and getting excited about London. My flight leaves at 7:45 and I am hoping for some good food (I seriously love airline food) and a nice movie. Then it is back to work for me. Now I must go back to reading trials...must stay awake...zzzzzzzzzzz

Exhausted in Montreal

Well, I am exhausted and I am in Montreal. You want proof? Too bad! I took down the picture of me because it was so horrible. So why did I leave gay Paris ? Well, I'm here for the EUSA (European Union Studies Association) Biennial International Conference. Tomorrow, I'll be pulling triple duty: I'll be presenting the perennial favorite, "Consonant Federalism," chairing the Euroskepticism panel, and acting as the panel's discussant. When I first decided to apply for this conference, I thought, Montreal, how beautiful! Actually, it is FREEZING, windy, and rainy. The good part is that my hotel is a real find; it is very charming. I cannot really enjoy it though because I am EXHAUSTED. It is 11:40 pm Paris time. Sigh. Montreal is the strangest place I've ever visited, I can say that without a doubt. It is as if Ypsilanti and France crashed into one another. I have never seen people that look like they are from Ypsilanti speak French. It's like a twilight zone. The cars look like they are American, but they stop to fill up with "essence." My head is spinning. I don't know what to think! Tomorrow I will get a better look at the city and I can make a better inferences. Also, I have to type out my notes for the discussant gig, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. Finally, I cried on the plane. Why? Because the movie I was watching touched me so, that's why. What movie did I see you query. Well, I don't know if I can tell you. You see, I don't know if we are that close. All right, all right! If you insist. I was watching Freedom Writers. You know, the movie with Hillary Swank that made $2 at the box-office? In my defense, I wasn't the only one touched. My whole section of the plane was RIVETED. Moreover, as I watched it, my own life didn't seem so bad. I also had this feeling that I wasn't doing anything really important. Usually, I'm at peace with this. Yet at this moment, I didn't want to read another paper about navel-gazing Swedes or decentralization and its (putative) effects on identity. And on that high note, I will type these notes. A bientôt!

MacDo

Oooh la la la la! Violent wind and torrential rain just hit the Parisian street, which was met by a chorus with, wait for it, wait for it, "ooh la la la la's!"' I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. Soooo funny! Anyway, today has been an interesting day to say the least. I am in MacDo's in order to take advantage of the free internet. First, I had a deaf girl con me into giving five Euros to a charity for deaf street urchins. Next, an older French man kept on asking me questions about my computer. He just sat right down next to me and started quizzing me about how much memory Xenu (my computer) has, as well as how much I payed for this baby (a lot!). He looks like Gerard Depardieu, I'm not kidding. Finally, I had a nice conversation with a French girl about how gross these bathrooms are. I have never thought of the French as an especially chatty bunch, but I've spoken more French people here than I have anywhere else. The guy next to me just commented to me that "it rains." I swear, it has to be something in the fries. I sent out "Somos"! Five years in the making, baby, and it just might happen. I doubt it, but I 'm glad to finally get that paper out. This means that Dan and I can buy a kitty. We are going to name it Zisou. Last night I had dinner with Thomas, Maria, and Tirone. We went to the Latin Quarter and feasted on paella. It's amazing how much better I am at Spanish than French. Anyway, it was a LOVELY evening. The conversation was excellent and the dessert, creme de Cataluna, was exceptional. Je pars. A bientot!

"C'est un beau jour de printemps parisien."

Last night I fell in love with Paris. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine I drank (they're tiny--I couldn't have just one!). Maybe it was my conversation with Sebastian and Maria after being apart for two years. Maybe it's reading this book that I love: "Un mouton dans la baignoire." Seriously, I cannot put it down. All that said, I have a cold and it is *still* chilly here. It rained last night, which was rather romantic, but did nothing help with the stuffy-nose situation. Sigh. I've chilled out about field work (thanks Jane!) and life has been better since. I've realized this is just an exploratory trip and I don't need to find everything just yet. Today I'm going to the library at Sciences Po and then the Centre Pompidou to check out newspaper articles. It looks like I'm *finally* getting paid for my Atran work. Woot woot! Here is a picture of the view from my apartment: I can't believe that I will be leaving on Wednesday! I head to Montreal for a conference. I am not looking forward to it. After that, I'll be starting my research in London. My month will be followed by a return to Paris. Do not ask how I ended up with this convulted trajectory. On that note, here is a picture I took with my mac of me in the Socialist party archives: And now to work I go. A bientot!

Nervous Wreck

Since I've started this research, I've had this feeling in my stomach, a knot if you will. I can also feel my heart beat faster. If I remember seventh grade health class (shout out to Mr. Harmon!), then I know that this is not good, especially since it has become a constant in my life. This whole thing is so expensive and I feel incredibly unprepared and maladroit. What should I be doing here? Am I finding out anything new? If I were a smoker, I would yank a cigarette out of my pack, light it, hands shaking, and take a long, desperate drag. Wow, that fake smoke kind of calmed me down. Seriously though, if anyone has done this before, this field-work thing, please let me know your secrets.

The French Have Spoken

Here is a photo of the polling station by my place. There was this very cute family heading to the polls, but this guy with the orange backpack stepped right in the way! Foiled! Yesterday 85% of eligible French voters went to the polls and 54% of them voted for Nicolas Sarkozy. I am very relieved. Public opinion polls have consistently shown that the French overwhelmingly consider Segolene as more likeable than Sarko, but on the day of the election, most voters cast their ballot for the tough-talking French minister of the interior, regardless of his personality. While these public opinion polls do not pose that tough question about which candidate you would most like to have a beer with, I'm sure most people would have chosen Sego to throw down a few pints. In the United States, we did have such a question and we (or a majority of the scant percentage of people who actually voted) chose that more likeable person. I'm glad that in France personality is not the salient dimension on which people choose their officials. Why am I anti-Sego? Well, because I don't think her economic programs were good at all. She is a Socialist from the 1970s who proposes policies that she cannot possibly finance. I saw, under her, France regressing in economic power and esteem. Luckily after her defeat she has called for a rethinking of the left and a possible alliance with the centrist party and very economically liberal UDF. Perhaps this will allow the party to keep up with the times.

I'm Awkward

What a weird, yet lovely day! I woke up feeling oddly chilly. It appears that our run of 75 degree weather has ended. Today it was definitely cooler and I, in my noble attempt to pack light, had packed little, nay, nothing suitable for cooler weather. Given that I had worked at the Centre Pompidou until 9:30 the night before, I felt justified in taking the day off and doing some shopping. I started early, around 10:30, and hit Rue de Rivioli, with a plan of buying a sweater and a jacket. Well, unfortunately, the summer clothes were out in full force and there was hardly anything with long-sleeves to be found. After a lot of running around, I bought a blazer at Zara. With the exchange rate being what it is (damn you Bush), I was very loathe to hand over my credit card. Yes, I had sticker shock (gasp!). So I wasn't excited about my purchase. I usually trust my gut right before I buy something. If I'm not jumping up and down in the dressing room (I'm serious) then I don't buy it. So here is the strange thing: shortly after making my uneasy purchase, I found a second-hand store (Paulina and Jessica, you both would have been in heaven! So many of the dresses I saw were perfect for you guys). The place was packed and everything cost about 5 or 10 Euro. Phoenix, the Strokes, and German dopplegangers of the previous played in the background while hipsters dug through the racks of clothes. I felt so out of place. I had to keep on telling myself in my head that hey, I'm cool, or if not cool, a worth-while person. See, this is what being around a bunch of malnourished people in skinny jeans does to you: it makes you feel like a loser*. Well, I bought a jacket (5 Euro), a dress (10 Euro), and two great purses. All of this cost less than the blazer at Zara, which I promptly returned. Woot-woot! Afterward, I went to a cafe by my place and read. It turns out there is free wi-fi there and I will definitely be returning. I called Mel to wish her a happy graduation. Can you believe it? Our little Melba is graduating from college (wild applause, shrieks and whistles)! Congrats! By the way, if you are reading this Mel, did Mom and Dad ever find Grandma? No one knew where she was, and according to Mel, Mom and Dad weren't that concerned. The woman is BLIND! Well, now I have to do my Madrid trial work. A bientot! *Actually, I'm horribly awkward and feel like a loser about most everyone. Sigh.

To Lure the French, Don't Be Too Sweet

Right now I am in my room while tango music plays softly in the main room and snippets of conversation in French floats from the kitchen. I think E's ex-husband is here and they are having a civilized dinner (and conversation, may I add). Today was the 1st of May, which is a holiday in France. Thus, my grand plans of hitting the Socialist archives (one of many--in typical leftist fashion, the party is completely disorganized) were shot, as well as any attempts to read in the Sciences Po library. Dommage. No, seriously. I had a lot planned for the day. Instead, I braved the crowds and hit my old haunt, Les Editeurs, where I downed a coffee elongee and read until it got too noisy. Many people in the cafe were discussing politics. This is unsurprising given that in four days the French will have their second tour of the presidential election. Being the poli-sci nerd that I am, I am thrilled to be here right now. One night, as I headed home from the metro, I saw Sarkozy's camp plastering his posters on top of Ms. Royal's. The very next day, Ms. Royal had been slapped on top of Nicolas. That same day, I saw a well-dressed lady try to tear down a Royal poster, and when that didn't work, she whipped out a permanent marker from her Louis Vuitton bag and tried to draw a mustache on Segolene's perfectly symmetrical face. Love it. In my (futile) attempts to improve my French, I have been downloading podcasts from the French ITunes. I got a really interesting one about the presidential election. In this particular episode the commentators waxed on about France's need for a Social Democratic party, one to bridge the left and right. The commentators were right in principle. The PS is a throw-back from the 1970's and the UMP reflects the French attraction to authority (DeGaulle anyone? How about a little Napoleon? Did someone in the back just throw a shout-out to Petain?). E remarked this morning that any Sarkozy economic reform would be met by mass protest and nothing would change under Sego. I wonder if a party that was ni-gauche and ni-droite would be able to push through the reforms France needs without causing mass unrest? So now I must go back to work. Tomorrow is a big day. I have a lot of things to do and red tape to cut. And on that note, I bid you adieu.

A give me eight...

It's funny how the most mundane things become utter travails when you are abroad. Case in point: buying half-of-a-baguette. This weekend I've been sentenced to do mind-numbing RA work and I only leave my apartment in order to buy my bread for the day. Since it is Sunday and this is Europe, only one bakery was open. The line was out the door! As I stood in line, I recited what I was going to say in my head: "Je voudrais une demi baguette, merci." Not tough, right? Well, little beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on my palms and I had this anxious feeling in my stomach. You know, the feeling you get right before you have to take a prelim. Yes, it was that bad. The worst part was I couldn't see if they had any demi-baguettes left. No, the little old ladies ahead of me were strategically placed so I couldn't see the selection. Shoot, I needed a plan B. I looked around desperately, but couldn't see anything. Now the line was moving and my feet began to feel moist. When I got up there, I asked for a demi-baguette, and the plain lady behind the counter whipped one out. You know me...I changed my mind...and then I changed it again. I went with the original demi, but at least I did it without stumbling over my French too badly. Still, I could hardly believe that such a little thing could cause me so much anxiety. Mon dieu!

Mmm...chocolate

That's right: Special K with dark chocolate shavings. By the way, this is supposed to be HEALTHY! And people wonder why I love this country... P.S. All photos have been courtesy of photo booth. I lost my cable that transfers my photos to the computer. I'm going to look for one tomorrow.

Jet Lag

So I just woke up from a three hour nap! It is 5:55 in the evening; I was out at 2:50. Did I mention that I woke up at 5:30 am? Does anyone have any advice on how to stop this insanity, this viciuos circle of sorts? Yesterday I hoofed it to Sciences Po where I was outfitted with my library card and credentials for my stay in France. Woot-woot! In the metro on the way over, I was stuck in a middle of a throng of loud, madly gesticulating Italians. Yes, that stereotype was not disconfirmed yesterday. Why is it when Italians yell it's considered charming, yet when Americans bellow it's annoying? The nice thing about being in Paris in April as opposed to June and July is that they were the only tourists I really saw. I'm sure there were others, but please don't tell me. And no, I don't count! No, I'm studying. I'm researching. I'm sleeping through the afternoon. I even missed tango class last night because I was out... Anyway... The library was pretty nice, although it had a fairly limited selection. I checked out 5 books (the maximum) that I would never have read (or found) in AA. As I was flipping through one last night, I couldn't help but think wow, I'm lucky. I'm getting paid to do what I love most, read, and be in the city that I adore, Paris.

And so my journey into pre-dissertation work begins...

Bonjour! And so my journey into pre-dissertation work begins... I'm in Paris and it feels great to be back. It was quite an ordeal to find my apartment. It turns out that in order to hail a taxi one must wave her arms frantically, as if she was a windmill or certifiably insane. After fourty-five (!!) minutes of politely extending my arm, a taxi stopped and I arrived to my place for the next month. This place is a real treasure. Unlike last year, I am greeted by a certain peace when I enter the apartment and not the smell of piss and must. The lady I'm living with is Australian and she teaches movement. We speak in French (she's lived here for 14 years) and will speak in Spanish tomorrow (she says she needs to practice). The place is very airy and light, with minimalist decoration that is just right. I'm including some pictures: The neighborhood is also very cool. I'm in the 14th Arrondissement. As I went on a stroll last night, I saw an artist's studio complete with a class full of painters, natch, a man in African attire talking on his cell-phone, children with headscarves speaking perfect French, and two older women discussing Sarkozy over a glass of wine. Now I'm going to Sciences Po to get my affiliation. More to come!

Annoyed

Grrr...blogger just got rid of my old-new blog with blogger. I am so annoyed right now that I don't even want to write a proper entry. Why did it take away my old-new blog!?