Paris...I kinda love you but I'm not sure...

I have a thing for French films. I don’t claim to be a French film aficionado, nor do I speak French other than saying the odd “Merci bloody becoup”. Liking French movies doesn’t make me think I’m pretentious or arty any more than the next person. They just make me smile.

I recently watched Priceless and have just watched Paris Je T’iame. The latter of which is really 18 short films put together. I really liked the vampire tale starring Elijah Wood and Gepard…the dictatorish baby…

It was the last film that perhaps was the most poignant though. An American lady in Paris, a simple woman who works as a mail deliverer and has two dogs and decides to learn French and visit Paris on her own. She’s independent and alone, but rather than feeling sorry that she has no one to share Paris with, she reaches a point of epiphany. Her eyes well up with tears, she feels joy and sadness. She realises that far from home, she has fallen in love with Paris and Paris has fallen in love with her.

I didn’t spend enough time in Paris to ‘fall in love’ with it, but I think strange things happen in Paris…

You find out that French waitresses give you attitude when you don’t speak French and “parlay vou anglais” them until you give them a healthy tip.
You learn that to ask for the bill, it’s “le account”. Say money and you get weird looks.
You discover that Chinese food, dim sum etc, is presented in cafes in a similar fashion as how meat is displayed at the butcher…
You accept that it’s perfectly natural to go shopping with your French bulldog in Zara and how to avoid the dog poop on the sidewalks (that was in Nice, but you get that).
You really want to dress like the French women who look impeccable at all hours of the day and don’t wear puffy white H&M coats in winter.
You know that French people think it’s weird when they ask you for a light and you don’t have one.
You were secretly creeped out in the Lourve especially when you visited the bathroom and saw a massive hole in the wall and thought a skeletal hand was going to come out of it.
You were also freaked out by the French military marching around the Eiffel Tower.
You will now eat a baguette or croissant and realise they’re poor imitations.

Oh Paris, I miss you and the metro and wish we could’ve become better acquainted. Maybe next time.

Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman Review

I've just finished reading Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Haruki Murakami my favourite literary author. It's a collection of short stories, some of them are heartachingly bittersweet. I find it easy to relate to Murakami's characters, they all seem like lost souls, none of them are perfect. Instead they're usually lonely, confused, bored, sad and all of them have extraordinary tales to tell.

Three stories stuck out for me out of the 24, note that these contain spoilers!

A folklore for my generation: a history of late stage capitalism
Young love is broken by youth itself. Girl and boy are together but never consummate their relationship as girl wants to stay a virgin until she is married. Boy remains in love with her, girl remains indifferent. She loves him but views their relationship as if she outside of it and refuses to marry him. Instead she promises to sleep with him when she is married...to someone else.

Firefly
A college student befriends the former girlfriend of a high school friend who committed suicide. Their relationship is never "official" but their loneliness and lack of other friends appears to drive them together. They have conversations but not about their dead friend, in the end she commits herself to a sanatorium.

Hanalei Bay
A mother loses her son in a shark attack in Hawaii. Every year she returns to the town "Hanalei Bay" around the anniversary of his death. She was never maternal and let her son do whatever he pleased. She ends up befriending two young Japanese surfers and looking after them in Hawaii...the ghost of her son appears to the surfers but not to her...

Murakami's writing feels so flawless sometimes, he claims that he's been able to write one a week (!) and is naturally compelled to write them. After reading his work I always feel...speculative as if all the odd things that have happened in my life have unique consequences. They also make me really want to visit Japan.

Belief

This year thus far has been rather tumultuous. I started off the year overseas with the vague plan of coming home, finding a job and figuring out my next "move". In betweeen I somehow found myself making a last minute decision to enrol in a postgrad marketing course (which has actually been rather enlightening) and in an uncertain long distance relationship. I found out the hard way that long distance things are inevitably difficult and, in 90 per cent of circumstances and in my own personal situation, are not meant to work out. Hence, I'll be staying home for Easter.

In good news and signs that perhaps things are finally going my way, I've got a job lined up and am feeling relatively calm. Of course there is still anxiety/fear/apprehension about being in a full-time job that does in no way guarantee five years of stability. But I don't really want that. I still want to travel, to move out of here, to work overseas, to give back to society...

When I talk to people who have finished uni and then gone on to work, there is still that lingering sense of "Did I choose correctly?" or "Is this really what I want to do?". I haven't even begun my job yet, and I still wonder about both of those questions. When I first started uni, I would've been shocked if I thought I would still have doubts when I graduated. The reality is that you can never be sure about anything, you just have to take things as they come.

I went to the West Coast Blues and Roots Festival on the weekend and saw my favourite musician John Mayer in concert for the second time. Although he played a rather short set and I spent a lot of the time angling my head so that I could see in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, it was amazing. The vibe was great, Mayer seemed relaxed and happy to be performing in Australia, I didn't see Jessica Simpson but that's no loss. I guess it can all be summed up in the last line of Gravity:

"Just keep me where the light is."