Posts tagged life
Posts tagged life
(Breaking news, I have the wifi in my lounge tonight- yay for being sat in a sofa instead of being in the kitchen. 21st century-style.)
Just caught-up with the Awkward episodes I’ve been missing. Stop messing with my heart Jake Rosatti, you can do better than that. Also, #teamSadie.
Ok,another amazing weekend in Brighton I need to bulletproof for your eyes only.
Life in the UK is full of surprises. Like, a neighbour who talks to you and asks you out and all, leaving you scared and confused (“What does he WANT?” asks my French brain). Or bosses at work who bake cakes for their team. Or Breakfasts with the team. Or random secret gifts to send to the overseas team. Oh well, that happens in the real world, apparently.
The other funny thing here is how electricity works. And kids, let me tell you a story. The story of a bloody key meter.
It started on Tuesday. Like every morning, I was sleeping under the shower, when the worst thing on Earth happened : water got cold while I was washing my hair. Nightmare? It’s only the beginning, folks.
I think it’s the right time to confess that I’m a mess with practical things. Ask me to book a trip abroad for four crazy art directors, that’s done in a minute. But don’t ask me to set up anything for myself. It’s been three weeks, I’m still borrowing wifi because I can’t be bothered to call BT.
Anyway, back to business.
Tried to call my agency. “Sorry darling, I can’t tell where the meter is, try to call your supplier”.
Tried to call EDF (yes, these guys are everywhere). They didn’t understand that I *didn’t* understand a thing about their meters. You buy a key to put power for a month in your flat?! What?!Nevermind, WHERE IS THAT BLOODY METER.
Took me £15 to finally understand the (really patient) customer service guys. Andrew, Marie, if you read these lines, you are amazing.
The answer was : In the hallway, of course! Vs Logics.
So, after a day and a half (with candles, cold showers and awkward phone convos during my breaks), I’ve finally been able to
Results : Hot showers are the best, baking a cake in a real oven is amazing, thank you God of Electricity, but next time, please set up this country with a proper meter and Direct Debit stuff and real bills and all. Thank you kindly.
(Next time, I’ll tell you how I find water in the nearest well)
Went back home in the most horrible mood tonight, and cancelled my plans with the work team. To be honest, there wasn’t much of a plan, just people drinking and dancing. Not in the mood, I said.
I’m better now, drinking hot chocolate and listening to Pedro The lion. Planning my home decor. Wondering if I should write my stories in French or in English (What do you think?). Wondering if I’m good enough for that job. Worrying again and again about stuff. How silly it was to think I’d be different in another country. We’re still the same, wrapped in the same shadows. Whatever we do, Wherever we go.
I should learn to get along with my own self. I really should.
Just read that my fellow friends and amazing band King Of Conspiracy split up, after six years of noise, punk, DIY and a shitload of amazing gigs around the world. I don’t know if it’s because of the lack of sleep/work stuff/ or just me being sentimental, but I’m on the verge of crying now. Truly heartbroken. I am lucky enough to have followed them since (almost) the beginning, from crappy basements to great support slots, on tour (with Blood Red Shoes), on cd (the EP “We”ll see if the arrogant last” is one of my favourite records ever), … Someone said on their facebook page that they changed the French punk landscape. It’s probably true.
DIY never dies, so check out their http://www.awhitemonkeynetwork.com/ project, listen to No Flag Project, their another band, and support your local scene.
Ok, Brighton :
(But that’s the most important thing).
For a really long time, I claimed it wasn’t necessary. I claimed it wouldn’t worth it, that I wouldn’t need it. I guess it was the fear. The fear of being judged, of being too soppy, too emotional, too needy. I don’t need pity. And of course, there was this question (quite influenced by Morrissey, I admit) : “What difference does it make?”.
While I was quite open about it, I didn’t see the point in sharing my survivor’s story.
Two days ago, I came across a survivor’s story. Her words were harsh, her experience really different from mine, her way to cope was the total opposite of mine, but the pain was the same.
On the same day, I read about a manifesto a French politician is about to launch, helped by a French Magazine (Le Nouvel Obs). The idea is simple: get our voices heard, tell the French politics scene and justice to change the way rape and sexual assault survivors are treated during and after the report. Get the population to know we exist, that we shouldn’t be ashamed. We’re not ashamed. Whether it happened when we were teens, when we were 45. No matter what we wore that day. Every single story we’ll share is the only thing that matters.
So, I started to wonder if could, one day, be able to write it down. Then I realised that some of the characters I created shared that “survivor feelings” (my feelings, to be more precise. We all feel things differently). My characters know the loss, the emptiness. They’re sometimes way too self-guarded, they sometimes walk with a big hole in them.
Maybe one day, I’ll write. Maybe I’ll turn my story into another story.
Maybe I’ll help breaking the silence. Help getting free.
That’s the point.
(for further reading, in French : http://tempsreel.nouvelobs.com/societe/20120711.OBS6807/viol-l-appel-de-clementine-autain.html)
Seems like I can’t sleep during weekends (seriously, body, 7.30? On a Saturday? *sighs*), so that’s a good excuse to write here.
Hello, lovely readers!
Two weeks in Brighton already! Time flies, literally. Things get quite funny (All I’ve been talking about this week was how annoyingly secure my bank was. Long story). The job is okay (In Dana’s words, I “survived the first week”) , not what I expected when moving here, but it’s okay. I still have to learn to be patient, it seems. Forever a work in progress.
The town is lovely. It’s kinda new to me, or should I say, I rediscover the benefits of a non-capital city : No metros, no rush, less crowded buses..Walking to work in less than 20mn. Going to the sea when I want to. Breathing.
Everything is taking place. And then, in a few weeks, when I am sorted, I’ll start to write again.
Meanwhile, I’ll just babble about how amazing/breath-taking/beautiful The Dark Night Rises was last night. I mean, really.
Enjoy the sun, and be excellent to each other x
Four days without posting, I feel bad.
So yeah, not much to write about, maybe more action this week, who knows.
Be excellent to each other x
Another rainy day, another surprises.
Hey, I’m seeing Wild Beasts on Saturday!First Brighton gig for me! The Haunt! Come along!
July 12th 2012, I think I have a bronchitis. Or the flu. Or that I’m just dying.
Anyway, my life in bullet points, here, now, for your eyes only.