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.

• #Vortongbash was a massive success.
• Still got some talent for air hockey. But Dana won. YOU GO GIRL.
• Drinking on the beach at night, like the teenagers we once were. For the record, we’re pretty much all married, living with someone or with regular grown-up jobs now, but it’s all about the attitude, man.
• Breakfasts at Kensingtons are the best breakfasts
• I met Roliver.
• I have some awesome friends who let me steal their dvds. Teen-movies marathons for life.
• Speaking of, Whip It is great.
• I have so much comics recos now, thanks to Ryan, and to some supernice guy I met not long ago.
• See how subtle I am about me meeting new people.
• Back to comics, I’m still not happy about the whole Superboy/WonderGirl/Red Robin thing.
• I’ve been to the Marina FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.
• Just realised I didn’t talk about my job. Key words : anxious, self-deprecation, things got better, fun, cakes.
• Watching Bandslam tonight. Forever a 16 year-old.

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

• set up a contract
• buy a key
• top-up the  key
• ask my (lovely) neighbours how they dealt with that stuff (yes, I am THAT slow.)

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.

The End.

(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.

• Wrote some music related stuff, it was nice. You’ll read it soon, maybe.
• Got my National Insurance Number appointment, AT LAST. 
• Finished Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Boy last night. So good. So good.
• North Laine action tomorrow
• Maybe the sea. it helps me thinking. (True story).

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 :

• In case you’re not familiar with my twitter, I HAVE A FLAT. Slowly decorating it before moving in on Saturday. It’s big, bright and cute. And quiet. And cheap. (I HAVE A REAL KITCHEN NOW. AND A BEDROOM.)
• Friends coming over next month. Better hurry up and find furniture.
• Work is killing me. Still on training, but financial vocabulary/numbers and I aren’t on good terms. I love customer service (ie, talking with and helping people), but this “maths”side of the job takes all my energy away. Already wondering if it’s wise to carry on. Hello old habits.
• Did I tell you that I was working with French people? Well, I am. They’re pretty nice (I know, that’s surprising), so that’s fun to work and learn with them.
• Pub action with said work staff tomorrow night!
• The sun makes everything better
• Dying to write again

• The sun is here, finally! Reading on the beach was amazing
• My right side is sunburnt
• Mockingjay is one of the most depressing books ever. (spoiler alert for the few ones who haven’t read it yet) I loved how smart it was, though. At first I wasn’t convinced by some facts (mainly Snow/Coin related), but I see now that is was better to go against expectations.Also really loved Katniss’s portrayal in the end, it makes her even more real to see that she haven’t overcame her trauma/issues. Love the ending, not the “happy ever after” kind. I wish more Young Adult books were like this. I like the fact that Suzanne Collins takes her readers seriously. No “cheesyness”. Real feelings, real ending. And now, I’m a total wreck. Maybe not the best time to read Portia de Rossi’s memoir.
• Little decision made, but not really a surprise : giving up on the stories I’ve been writing since last year. I don’t feel excited about it anymore, and since a French TV show ( to be broadcast this fall) is really similar to my little short stories collection, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to continue. You may have noticed that I write quite regularly here though, meaning the fun is still here. I am inspired, too, inspired by the town, by my own feelings and thoughts…I need to put it in order now, for a real and solid story to emerge. (I can also apply to rewrite steamy romance books at H********. The future is unwritten).
• Starbucks Macchiatos at £1. Thank you Morrisons.
• My hosts (and friends) are pretty fun when they watch a movie together. Maybe I should write about them!

(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.

• New job at “the big company” started yesterday. It’s just training at the moment. I can’t say much, but the meals at the restaurant are delicious.
• Three more months till smartphone and Instagram life. Don’t ask.
• Wild Beasts were fun.
• “les chaussures, c’est trop mainstream”
• Onto “Mockinjay”. I definitely have a thing for YA books.
• BATMAN ON FRIDAY
• The phone guys are definitely fun and sweet to talk to.

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.

• I had the biggest crush ever for a flat. So I gave the deposit. So, I guess I have a flat now. But I am paranoid and superstitious, so no word till things are fixed
• Jobs itws here are weird. And temp people call you after 5pm to arrange phone itws with their clients. Said clients call you en français.
• It rains everytime I go for a walk on the beach
• Sainsburys meals = best thing on earth
• Same goes for their lemon & ginger herbal tea
• Argos is the new Asos.

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.

• The rain. Yes, I was well aware of the British Summer, but yesterday I actually experienced not one, but two apocalypses in three hours (with some torrential rain in between). Not good when you wear a skirt + flat shoes and you’re busy viewing flats and visiting temp agencies. It caught me near North Street. Carrie Bradshaw would have found shelter in Waterstones, glamorously surrounded by books and cute guys. I never made it to Waterstones. I spent 30mn in an off-licence instead, soaked up and miserable, chatting with the owner. Brighton 1, NYC 0.
• Can flat hunting be counted as a proper job? The assistant in me did some magic on the phone yesterday. It’s like bikes, you think you lose the ability to cycle when you haven’t done it in ages, but truth is, it’s in your blood. Or something. 
• Speaking of flats, most of the viewings are just me and the letting agent. No queue!! No people all ready with mountains of paper desperate for a flat! You hear that, Paris?
•  ”You seem surprised! I just want to talk to you, after work maybe?” Oh, random guy on the streets, thanks for the kind words, but my mum once said “never talk to strangers”. Also, six years in Paris taught me that you’re either a pervert or you’re trying to sell me something. See, I trust people.
• I really like Kemp Town.
• I don’t understand the bus system.
• I have a phone. “I thought you were British” said phone guy. Some people know how to talk to me.
• I love Primark
• More viewings today..stay tuned for the next tales!