Sometimes I think I can't write a blog post unless it's a lovely, perfectly-shaped essay. But I miss writing and want to catch you up on what I've been doing so you won't think I fell off of that slow boat to Paris.
I was in the states for 6-ish weeks and was able to see some people, but not everyone I wanted to see. This was my own fault, since I had just left a pressure cooker in Paris with a deadline for my game writing job, a deadline for my university work, a breakup of my relationship and packing, moving & storing everything I own, twice. When I left for Arizona, my stuff was stashed at a couple friends' places and I had no home to come back to. I was pretty exhausted and brain dead. On top of all that, the left side of my body was numb because of the position I put myself in while writing on those two deadlines. I got some excellent chiropractic adjustments and massage as soon as I arrived in Arizona and am back to normal. But after all that... I just wanted to hang out in silence and drift while the French government reviewed my new visa application. Anyone I bumped into along the way was a delight, but because I didn't sit down and plan things down to a rat's ass, I didn't get to see everyone.
You'll all just have to come visit me in Paris.
I can't tell you how excited I am about my visa. I wanted a special visa, called Arts et Talents, which lasts for three luxurious years and is renewable. I was able to get it through a collaborative project with a private Paris university, where I will be helping them develop their online video education curriculum (undergraduate and MBA business courses), including course development, script writing and on-camera work. I'll also be teaching live classes. In addition, I'll be filming regular insider updates for the university's clients in the travel, hospitality and luxury products industries. I've already been building a new eCommerce course and I meet with the school this afternoon to start planning everything else. Yay!
You'll be happy to know that I quit smoking while I was in America, with the loving help of my therapist friend, Jeri. She's the one who cured me several years ago of my sudden fear of flying (me, who got a pilot's license at the age of 21). At that time, she cured me over the phone, using a reprogramming method that involved eye movement. This time however, to help me quit smoking, she used the TAT method. One day I was a very addicted smoker and the very next day I had absolutely no physical, mental or emotional desire to smoke. Gone! I even left Jeri's cosy place in Laguna to spend more than a week with my friend Rebecca in Los Angeles, who smokes all the time. No problemo. If you want to learn more about TAT and use the same methodology for free, go to TATLife.com and download their How To Do TAT booklet. TAT therapy centers around healing negative events in your life, without having to drag yourself through the memories or pain of the event. So, I didn't focus on quitting smoking during the TAT session. I focused on the event, or series of events, which led to my smoking. I believe that this method can be used to heal many of my past traumas and I plan to use it often.
When I returned to Paris, I was originally going to stay with my friend Lisa in her summer rental in the Marais until I found an apartment to rent of my own. It would have been tight, as she would have had to step over my bed to get to the bathroom or kitchen. But then a friend called and said she had an overlap between her former apartment and her new one, and would I be interested in renting the former apartment so she wasn't stuck paying double rent. The idea of being alone after staying for six weeks in other people's homes was appealing, but I made sure that there would be internet at that place, as I had a lot of work to do on my university programs. So, I arrived at CDG and took a cab to my other friend's apartment. I ran into Fiachna on the street and he told me to meet him and his girls at one of our favorite restaurants, L'Homme Tranquil. There, I was lovingly greeted by Antoine, the proprietor with a huge personality and an even bigger heart. It was a wonderful return home.
The next day I schlepped my stuff to the empty apartment and was thrilled to be there. I shopped for groceries and settled down to my work. Two days later, the internet died, and couldn't be fixed. I had to move again. By this time, Lisa had another friend coming into town, so I couldn't go there. I called G, whose apartment I stayed in prior to my trip to the states. She said, "I was expecting you!" I was so grateful. So, I schlepped my stuff to her place. A few days later, G got a call from a friend from LA who was coming into town and needed to stay with her, so I had to go somewhere else. G's friend S rented me her lovely flat in the 9th for two glorious weeks. But, the internet was as slow as molasses. Sigh. Can't win for losing.
Through all of this, I was:
- Trying to find a permanent apartment to rent
- Trying to open a bank account (I'm grateful to my friend M for taking me into her bank and gittin 'er done)
- Trying to gather the documents I need to go stand in line for 3 hours (3 times) at the local police station to get my Carte de Sejours, which includes getting an official French translation of my birth certificate
- Trying to build my university courses
When S came back, I was going to move into Fiachna's apartment while he's on tour in America. But then G called and said she was going out of town and asked if I could stay back at her place and watch her cat and...my bird. Yes, my bird (who G finally named Charlie) has been at G's place since last February or so.
Meanwhile, I looked at a bunch of apartments and was disheartened at all the documents and proof of whatevers that the landlords demand here. The fact that I'm an independent business person without a regular paycheck deposited into the bank (that bank that I didn't have yet), is a big problem. It doesn't matter that I have a solid savings account in America to point to, they just want to see regular money deposited into a French bank account, along with a mound of other documents that basically lets them know every detail of my past and current life.
In the end, I rented a tiny studio on the other side of G's living room wall. I'll be in the same building with her. We can borrow sugar and stuff, and I can keep my bird on her lovely courtyard patio and let it toss its seed all over the place while she and I drink wine and eat cheese. Best of all, I'll share her WiFi internet. Woohoo! The apartment is DIRT cheap, but it's also the size of your dining room table. At least I don't have to go down the hall to pee in a communal toilet room. Life does have its blessings. But it's all ok. I really like my landlords, a Tunisian couple. And they have gutted the apartment and are putting in an ALL NEW bathroom and tiny kitchen and new tile and painting everything. So, as I sit on G's couch, I can hear the guys on the other side of the wall working. Never has pounding and construction sounded so good. When I go to the grocery store and pass by my soon-to-be window, I lean in and watch the guys work and they are so friendly...all or most of them are relatives or friends of my landlord. They show me everything and I ooh and ahh and compliment them on the speed and accuracy of their work. You know how important that is to men.
So, if all goes well, I'll be in there on the 1st of September. I just have to order some furniture and perform some origami to fit it all in there. As soon as I unpack and find my freaking camera charger, I'll take some pics.
So, that's that.
Source: omywordblog.blogspot.com
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