Voilà.

I’ve always thought that writing my heart out would help me figuring out how I feel. There’s this feeling of accomplishment I can’t quite bring myself to forget for sure, there’s also probably some slight fear lying under the surface and a little excitement buried in the ground. I’ve spent the flight reading Elle like it didn’t matter and as I told Mr. Genius a few hours ago, I guess this whole moving thing just doesn’t seem real yet. The boxes are coming in tomorrow, my suitcase is there trashed over my bed and so are the famous parisian clouds that never seem to reach the South but all I can think of is what I’m going to eat for diner.

It’s not cold yet but it will be, sometime between now and december. I saw Dad, he came to pick me up at the airport, said how glad he was, told me I could call him if I get bored. I won’t. There’s something inside me that will always prevent me from doing it, the same chains that make it sound awkward when I tell Mom I love her. I guess that’s how I relate to Dexter Morgan, you know? I do not want to kill people, thank God, but I do feel cold sometimes.

Me and my 47 friends.

I’m moving on and said goodbye to my previous life today. I said goodbye and narrowed my Facebook list to forty seven people I really care about.

This simple action of deleting so-called friends probably has a whole symbolism behind it but I really do not seem to give a shit. This is me walking out.

The Aussie.

Home. I’m packing the last random books I find in my bottom left-hand drawers about the media’s power over society in an umpteenth moving box when my phone rings loud in my ears, Shakira shrieking about secret affairs and objections. I sigh heavily between my lips as I recognize the parisian prefix, wondering why Dad finally dares calling me from his home phone. My teeth have already been hurting for the last couple of days (or at least I think so, it’s a really light pain and I’ve been teeth paranoid for the last six months so I prey I won’t have to take it to the dentist) and I have no intention to let him annoy the crap out of me. I take the call nonetheless just because any reason to procrastinate is very welcome at the moment.

“Hullo?” I say as I attempt to close my overloaded box with a large piece of brown-ish tape.

“Hi Mrs. Arnoux? I’m calling you from Assas University in Paris – ”

“Oh hello,” I drop the tape, the scissors and the box for that matter. I just cross my fingers and hope they’re not calling to tell me they’ve changed their mind and don’t want me as a student anymore. Or that they want me to move earlier. There is no way in hell the boxes will be ready in time.

“Yeah I’m the professor in charge of the Common Law class you applied to,” and there I go, I recognize her Caribbean accent. This is the woman who is supposed to decide whether I’m just going to be a lost hope   unknown French lawyer struggling to pay her debts at the end of the month or someone who is going to spend her five years of studies exploring the whole world to finally become an incredibly awesome judge at The Hague. I drop my head, my heart and everything in between while I even forget how to breathe. “And I just wanted to let you know I’ve decided you are going to be one of my students for the next three years. That is if you don’t take the opportunity to leave France in your third year of course.”

There is a split second during which I think about reacting the appropriate way and try not to be rude. Unfortunately, that thought reaches my brain right after I almost shout “Holy crap, you’re serious?!” and scare both my dog and my neighbor’s. Yeah, I do also have my Debra Morgan moments sometimes if you were wondering.

She laughs, confirms what she’s just said again and again until I hear her start talking about a two hundred Euros check Mom will have to write while I write everything she’s telling about the details of the class on autopilot. I hang up the phone, breathe in, breathe out. And burst out laughing as I shout my lungs out, Mano still glaring at me with his cute little puppy eyes. The next thirty minutes pass in a haze, I call Mom, Bones, Mr. Genius, A. and WRITE ALL OVER FACEBOOK that I’m finally getting what I want and need. This means more than the incredible opportunity of having an international career to me, more than the possibility of studying abroad and going to the US, England or Australia; this is somebody I don’t know finally acknowledging the insane amount of hours I spent working on my English and telling me that I deserve to be happy. And I don’t care about what Mom says, I don’t care about her stupid brain telling me that I should turn this down because it’s going to be too much work. Me going to Assas was her moment. She pulled some strings and I thank her for that; but this, this success is mine. I take the box in my arms and put it over another one in the corner of my room. Who knows? In two years I’ll probably be packing to go to Amsterdam, London, Los Angeles, New York or even Sydney.

Selfish – [House review - 7x02]

The first word that comes to my mind when I think about last night’s episode is “disturbing”. Not necessarily disturbing in the way Now What? or Broken were but still awkward in the way that it leaves me with that really, really weird gut feeling at the end when I end up teared up between laughters, cries and worries. This episode did answer the “Now What?” question without raising new ones but didn’t give me the feeling of achievement I was waiting for either. I think the Huddy relationship took a new optimistic turn in Selfish but I’m truly still looking forward to what the writers plan to do with the both of them. On a French forum, I decided to give this episode a 5/5 even though I still think it has its flaws and here are the reasons why.

First of all, I’d like to say how miss Taub and Chase having their own real story lines instead of just randomly talking about other people’s relationships. The writers are apparently planning on making a womanizer out of Chase and I’m not sure I’m satisfied with the way they do it. It’s something I would agree with if we actually saw him with these four women he’s supposed to be dating. Taub is still, according to House, unhappily married and it’s also something I’d like to see. I miss his wife, I miss the problems they had and I miss the kid he needed and wanted to have. The first fifteen minutes were fine and funny but completely uninteresting if you had already seen all the sneak peaks. I also wonder why Wilson doesn’t have a sex life anymore and why everything he seems to think about is how House is going to screw up his relationship with the Dean. The clinic grandpas were pretty funny but not to the point when I would just burst out laughing. They don’t even compare with the sex obsessed grandma we had a few years ago.

Now, I think I’d be a huge hypocrite if I said I found this week’s medical case interesting since I’ve never ever actually cared about the medical mysteries. I’m nowhere near being a doctor, nowhere near even being interested in science and biology but I think that as long as a case manages to last forty-five minutes, it ends up being okay. Which it did. However, as I said before, I am interested in people, the way the act and the reasons they have for doing what they do and this family dilemma was incredibly interesting in that matter.
I think the kids had their own issues do deal with together but eventually who I got passionate about during this episode were the parents, their fights and their cries. I don’t think they were just there to empathize the antagonisms between House and Cuddy, they also showed in their incredible fight scene the wrong but nevertheless human reactions we can have when we are facing the need to make such an impossible choice.

But of course, they also were a mirror of House and Cuddy and their sudden lack of fights, their inability to make the right decisions and the new dynamic they are desperately searching for. I now understand what Hugh Laurie was talking about when he said they had both lost track of North and South for a while. However, I believe the writers’ view on the future of this relationship in Selfish is much more optimistic than it was in Now What. No fading smiles this time, just two hands clasped tight together hoping for the better. And as House and Cuddy are trying to find their new balance the show also is. I think the lack of news about Taub, Chase and Wilson is a symptom of House not wanting or not finding enough time to care about other people. The show is about House and when House is not concentrating on people’s issues then we’re not either. I don’t know if this is a conscious choice of the writers’ or if it’s an unconscious struggle but if they purposefully pushed the symbolic of the show that far, then they are the geniuses, not House.

In the end, I think the parallelism between House and Cuddy and the girl’s parents was really the one thing that made me give a 5 to this episode instead of a 4. Despite its evident flaws, the recurrent piano theme and the fight scenes (and the symbols I see in them) made this episode better than it should have been. And for that I’m grateful. I’m not so grateful for the HR meeting however which still looks pretty pointless to me. She’s not getting fired and he’s not getting a new supervisor so what the hell? I just suppose it was something that had to be done and even though I did not really enjoy that story line, I have no idea how I would have dealt with it so I guess I have nothing to criticize about the writers’ decisions.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m still anxious towards the outcome of that relationship, the show’s ability to give great story lines to the other characters but as this episode apparently wants me to hope for better, it’s exactly what I‘m going to do.

Let’s just keep our eyes open for next week’s “Unwritten”.

Diamond rings.

If I had to write one understatement a day, today I would probably tell you that I’m exhausted. I’ve spent the last five hours of my life packing things into twelve tiny boxes, throwing away objects I didn’t even know I had and trying to be ready in time for the movers to take my stuff to Paris. And of course, even though I’ve decided to call it a day (at 4 pm.!?), I’m not anywhere near done right now.

Anyway, thanks to my Mom who hasn’t asked for enough boxes, I still have my radio with me and therefore Adam Levine shouting to the whole neighborhood that I make him stutter. Gosh I really can’t get enough of that new Maroon 5 CD. It’s weird, amazing and addicting. Yesterday I begged A. to forget the grudge she helds against She Will Be Loved (somehing to do with an ex-boyfriend I guess) but she still says she hates Misery and I don’t actually think I can do anything to help her.

I’m also currently getting annoyed with my computer who doesn’t seem to understand that I have no intention whatsoever to start writing in French and that it should therefore stop underlining every single word I type in red. Plus I’ve just realized that I am going to have to buy OpenOffice for Mac because Pages is so bad at correcting my grammar. 139€. Thank God I love apples.

Bones is coming here at around 6 pm. to pick up the philosophy books I have to give her but apart from that, I don’t think I have anything else to do for the rest of the afternoon. I may go to the beach, swim for a little while, breathe in, breathe out, these kind of things. I am so going to miss the Mediterraean sea in Paris. I’m thinking about spending the four or five days I’ll have left in Paris before college officially starts (October 11th) searching for some place where I can find the same peaceful atmosphere I had at the beach in here. I’ll miss being alone.

A. said I should give Dad the benefit of the doubt so I don’t have regrets when he’s dead. I think she knows how to make me happy. I also learned yesterday that she has the same types of relationships with her Mom that I do which conforted me in the idea that I’m not just a weird little black sheep. She also doesn’t think it’ll ever get any better.

Sent a text to Mr. Genius this morning telling him I was bored and was really looking forward to finally move. He told me I should leave Nice earlier and I wonder if he misses me more than he’s willing to admit. This guy is such a pro when it comes to sending mixed signals. I also asked him if he wanted me to give him the books he lent me in June and he didn’t answer. Told you, fucking mixed signals.

When I list all the people I need to write an email to (Sunny, S., C. and Jazz) it makes me feel even more exhausted than I already am. I’m thinking about lying in bed all day tomorrow. But I’ll still have to pack my damn winter clothes. Oh God.

I just have no clue.

I think that today at the age of seventeen, there actually are some things that I do understand about the world we live in. I, first of all, am able to: have a real conversation in both French and English, comprehend and analyze quite accurately whatever I watch on television, and understand the reason why, depending on what area of the world you are in, you can’t always spot shiny white dots in the sky at night.

However, there are also things that I don’t understand, such as mathematics, the reason why butterflies only have a one-day life expectancy and my Philosophy teacher’s incoherent book excerpts that I had to work on last year. While thinking about it, Livejournal.com could also be a great example of my complete lack of clue, considering how confusing the communities and complicated “friends” relationships are to me (even though, I believe my genuine incomprehension can also be the result of me not being able to understand computer-English properly). I actually think the most shameful «I don’t understand» I’ve ever had to say in my life regarded the true meaning of one of my favorite songs (Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen).

But I’m not here to talk about that today. I’ve had two days to think about what I was going to write, my brain almost going into overheat after having explored over half of its memory drawers, even thinking about not updating the blog anymore (not that anybody’s reading it yet anyways); but that’s about the time when something hit me, hard and strong, just like Satisfaction : I have no clue of what you guys find interesting.

I remember a conversation I had with S. the other day, about whether or not I like people. I can recall her not having such a pessimistic point of vue on humanity, thinking that there was hope in everybody and that maybe, somehow, we were all going to stop being so god damn annoying and finally mind our own businesses.

How she deals with this powerful vision of hers is a complete mystery for me but as it turns out this conversation helped figuring out something about myself: I don’t really like people, I just find the way they act interesting.

I feel like a mad scientist while saying that but it happens to be true. And as I previously admitted I have no idea about why people do the things they do and say the things they say and it’s something I’ve always intended to get a grip on. I see a guy sitting on an airplane reading a book called «divorce for dummies» and I automatically wonder what lead him to that situation. Not what he thinks about it (as I once said to C., my own musings are enough for me, thank God) but I always wonder how did one get into that specific situation.

So where the hell do I go with this? Well honestly I have no idea either. Just the usual life questions: are people always self interested? Do you always get hurt when you get attached to someone? Do you have to care to be happy? Does happiness even exists? Can you tell everything to everyone?

How come nobody ever found the Lost island?

No seriously, if there is one single thing I understood last week, it’s the reason I don’t feel bad about moving to Paris and leaving all my friends here.

There will always be people to write about.

Conversations with my Dad.

Expensive restaurant. Versailles. Chic and sophisticated. My white shorts and brown sneakers seem out of place somehow. Early September. Is he trying to pay me back?

“You have a boyfriend?”

I sit there, motionless, glue sticking my butt to my snobbish wooden chair. So here we are I think, the one question he’s been dying to ask me for days. Problem is, there is a reason why he doesn’t know; I don’t talk about those things. Never. The restaurant is still and almost empty, probably because Parisians actually do enjoy the rare minutes of sun they’re occasionally given over summer. “No.”

“But you do watch boys when they pass by, don’t you?“

Loaded question. What does he want me to say? That I am a lesbian or a stalker? “Yes” I guess.

“Good,” he sets the sides of his hands on the table and faux-smiles to the point where even his lips and teeth look fake. He’s not my Dad, he’s a politician who just can’t really use a cell phone. “Great.”

Yeah. Right. I could tell him about Mr. Genius but I don’t think it would be relevant to my point. It is none of his business. Plus we’re not dating, I’m just staring.

“Look honey I just,“ my eyes drift to his chest and tie (does he think he has to look good to please me?) and I notice he looks fat, like he’s put on far too much weight over the last few years. He’s turned seventy recently. God, he could be my grand-father for Heaven’s sake. “Like I said a few years ago, if you ever want to know about my family, you can ask.”

“Okay” I feel awkward, just like I did when I talked to that French guy in Oxford. You’re French? Yes. You’re from Nice? Yes. Cool, me too. Oh great, where do you live? Well – He trailed off. Right now I live in Dubaï. Okay. I glared at him suspiciously; what was the point of that conversation?

“Well?“ Dad says as I realize I am not the one conducting the interrogation here. He wants me to question him, tells me what to ask and when to ask it. Again, as I said, he could have been a great Prime Minister. And maybe if I just stay here and keep my lips sealed, he’s just going to start talking about Roger Federrer again.

A moment passes by, I see him shift uncomfortably on his side of the table, take his glass, fill it with some more wine, bring it to his mouth and put it back on the table, still full. ”Your Mom was the one” he declares solemnly and reaches for my hand. It’s warm, wet from the ice cubes settled in my glass and I catch myself wishing I could be angry. Or sad. Or at least feel something. “I had mistresses you know,” he pauses, obviously struggling to find the appropriate words. Yes, I knew he had had a mistress… I didn’t know he had cheated on my Mom too. “But your Mom, she was – I thought I was going to move in with you guys.” But you didn’t. His gaze meets mine; I know he’s searching for some kind of comfort, forgiveness maybe, definitely not the dark, cold and inherited-from-her look I give him. Honestly, I’m just having a hard time picturing all that sympathy and compassion right now. “The woman I’m married to, you know, I’m faithful to her, in more ways that you can imagine. I cheated with your Mom, it’s true, but I’ve always given my wife everything she deserved, because she worked for me, she worked hard so that I could study and become what I am now. This is how I was raised, sweetheart,” an education you weren’t there to give me obviously. He bits down his lower lip, takes a sip and swallows hard. “Please just – Just don’t tell your Mom”

“Dad I -”
“I mean it honey, don’t -”

“Okay” I almost shout. The guy behind the counter is staring at me from the other side of the room with his deep blue eyes, as dark as the Atlantic ocean. He’s creepy, I think before I notice the golden ring shining around his fourth finger. “Why the hell would I tell Mom anyway?” Perhaps I could pretend being stunned by his sudden lack of self-confidence. He glares at me, surprised.

“Well, you do talk to your Mom, don’t you?”

It feels so natural on his lips, just like the completely genuine look of astonishment I see in his eyes.  It reminds me of A. when he discovered that uncle Fred was being Santa Claus all along. There is so much he doesn’t know about me, so much he thinks he knows about Mom. I guess she wasn’t even really the woman he fell in love with. I close my eyes. I’m not sure he deserves to know the truth actually. So I lie, again. “Sure” I smile and swallow my cranberry juice. My teeth look fake, I know it.

But I’m a liar, so you can shoot me.

Now What? [House review - 7x01]

Posted from: Home (Nice).

The needed episode.

After months of waiting and dreaming and thinking and worrying, I finally got to watch the 7×01 of House M.D. Like I had said before on a French forum when they changed the title of this premiere (from «Thunder Roadtrip» to «What Now?») I felt like this episode was what we «needed».

What I mean by that is that over summer, we’ve all spent hours and hours reading hundreds of fanfictions that ultimately ended up being a combination of all the conversations and sweet moments that this episode finally gave us for real. The «I love you» fight, the cute and funny bath scene (even if I didn’t think that was funny but anyway…), Cuddy turning her phone off and «enjoying» the intimacy and the sex.

THE huddy sex every teenage girl watching House has been waiting for, for seven seasons. I believe that was one of the most beautiful love scenes the series has ever seen (and by that I mean that I still think Lydia’s was the best). I’ve recently read an article on House and kisses, trying to show how much of a big deal were kisses for him. He’s probably one of those people who think even kissing is cheating. I don’t think so, but the incredible two minutes the show spends on showing House and Cuddy finally making love (and I use this expression purposefully, they’re not having sex there) feel strangely true. Just like I said for the last minutes of season six, this is one of the sexy moments I wouldn’t feel awkward about while watching it with my mom. It’s cute, hot, but definitely natural.

However, I don’t think the episode was as perfect as every huddy fans seem to think. I regret the fact that writers weren’t able to believe in their story enough to make the whole episode happen in House’s apartment. If we’re going to follow them for at least a season, I would expect the two of them to be able to have a entire episode rely on them and only them. I was disappointed by the hospital storyline. I do care about Thirteen, but I just think they should have dealt with it in the next episode. I feel like this episode was «mini-Broken» in the way that it was done to show House dealing with the aftermath of last season and I don’t believe that showing Foreman, Thirteen, Taub and Chase was necessary.

So he said «I love you» and what now? The «I’m seeing Cuddy, generally without any clothes on» scene probably. I admit even after everything we’ve learnt this summer I was still scared when Cuddy disappeared when Wilson was there. I think this episode was really there for them to have the conversations we needed them to have, the kiss on his thigh I’ve read in a thousand fics this summer and I’m not sure how you guys feel about it but it seems like a little gift for us. For the people who’ve watched the show from the beginning and expected this love scene to be wonderful. And I’d just like to tell Cuddy that if she ever expects to see the Mont Saint-Michel without the tourists, I wish her good luck. Really.

So again, this was a House episode that left me wondering about what’s left of the next season. I don’t think the writers have answered the «What Now?» question after all.

Hands All Over.

Posted from: Home (Nice).

Honestly? I’ve been obssessed with that album ever since Misery came out. It’s pathetic, I know, but I can’t blame myself for being so excited when my favorite band finally releases a new record. It had been three years since ‘It won’t be soon before long’ and I don’t believe the fact that September 20th was also the House M.D night made it better. It’s also one my best friend’s Birthday. Told you, so much things going on today.

Anyway, I have no words to say how much I love this album. Like always I had read about a thousand of critics, both good and bad and I have to say I was nervous. My favorite album of theirs is still Songs About Jane but when  Levine said on TV that this album was kind of a mix between SAJ and their other one and I was wondering what would that sound like. In my head I had quite a hard time picturing a song that would be some sort of a middle ground between She Will Be Loved (which is, to me, one of most beautiful love songs that these last ten years have seen – or heard -) and If I Never See Your Face Again.

I know I could have listenned to it this morning on Deezer but I didn’t want to spoil the pleasure I would get from unwrapping it and listenning to it for the first time on my radio so I waited until I had time to take a trip downtown to Virgin Megastore at noon and buy the CD. (Yes, there still are people who actually BUY music). And the least I can say is that I think I truly had no reason to be nervous. I even got the Deluxe Edition with all the acoustics covers and bonuses. And God I love it.

There’s actually two parts in this album. The first half is fun, funky, sounds like It Won’t Be Soon Before Long. The second one is more … ‘in love’ like Songs About Jane. And the combination of both is like Heaven. Oh my God, he’s HOT, he sings so high he touches the sky without sounding gay… What the hell am I supposed to say except ‘go buy Hands All Over!’? The music are incredible, the lyrics are incredible and all the songs sound really great together. So okay, I may, as a fan, not be so objective about their music but I do believe that these 18 songs are worth the 17, 99€ this album costs. Plus the cover picture is awesome. (And so is the duet with Lady Antebellum).

Favorite songs: Stutter, Last Chance and the If I Ain’t Got You cover. (Yeah, I know, Adam Levine singing If I ain’t got you is… WOW!)

Dislikes: In It Won’t Be Soon Before Long I didn’t like Kiwi. In this album I honestly have no songs I don’t appreciate. Of course the album is not perfect and has its flaws but globally, it’s almost as good as Songs About Jane.

They’re having a concert in Paris on March 2nd and I’m honestly gonna try to do everything I can to go.

Tout est sous contrôle.

Posted from: Airplane from Paris to Nice.

Everything Is Under Control. Or The Gun Seller. Or whatever you want to call the damn book Hugh Laurie wrote over a decade ago. I’ve read critics about it, both good and bad but I don’t think it actually matters anyway. People buy because it was written by Doctor House. It’s even the first thing you see on the cover. The huge bright red letters are quite hard to miss. If I were him, I don’t know if I’d enjoy it fully.

One of my friends gave it to me on my birthday and I smiled, thanked her and forgot to say I had already read it. And liked it. Kiss and fly.

French cover picture of the novel. Something is wrong with that gun. Tell me what and you’ll win all my respect.

«La douleur est une réalité. Quand elle vous tombe dessus, vous vous débrouillez au mieux.» -Hugh Laurie.

«Pain is an event. It happens to you, and you deal with it in whatever way you can.» -Hugh Laurie.