I just realized that I haven't given an "I'm doing well!" post in a while. I knew you were worried about me. Thank you for your concern.
Things are going reasonably well here in Paris. I mean, I am busy as hell. As the City Manager (in capitals), it is my duty to make sure that the entire company is running smoothly, from tours to pub crawls to deliveries to pick-ups (don't ask) to staff morale. It's on my mind 24 hours a day. What's the pay-off? Well, I live in an apartment in Montmartre, which is one of the artistic centers of the city. Pretty cool. I also have a bit of cash to blow at reasonably priced restaurants. That's nice. Otherwise, I guess that having this experience is good for any sort of job in the future. I mean, management of an entire branch of a multi-national company. Not too shabby.
In case you can't tell from my tone (which is rather dry), I am not overjoyed with this position. I don't like being the bad guy. I don't like working at all hours of the night. I am not paid enough to make it all feel better.
Solution: I need to find a way of seperating work from life. Unfortunately, my apartment is also the office, so I am always surrounded by work related things. Plus, my cell phone is always at my side, meaning my boss can (and does) contact me at any hour. That sucks. But, if I can successfully switch from work mode to leisure mode more effectively, that would make life much more enjoyable. We'll see how that goes.
Perhaps subconsciously I betrayed my true emotions today when I spent two hours looking for jobs in Mongolia. No joke.
My dream advertisement:
"Mongolia- A family of fifteen is looking for an energetic, somewhat mentally inconsistant, young man to help around the house and farm. Room and three daily meals included. Tasks include: milking the dogs, planting jelly beans, chopping wood, chanting, folk dancing, and marrying the eldest daughter. Pay is minimal."
Mmmm... I can already smell the freshly fermented horse milk.
I think that a criteria for my next destination is that I have to have a remote possiblity of being killed. I'm not talking about mercenary soldier work in Kenya. But there should at least be a slight chance that I will catch an infectious disease somewhere.
Just kidding. Somebody revive my mother.
But you get my point. I am growing bored of Western European culture. Not that there is anything wrong with it, it's just not a heckova whole lot different than American culture. I was looking for a knock-me-on-my-ass cultural experience in Europe... and it's not really here. We are all very similar. That's one thing I've learned. It's ridiculous to hate the French or hate the Germans or hate Americans. We're basically the same. We have a shared history. Houli and I had a discussion related to this: How our generation is really the first one to be able to break down long established stereotypes via the backpacking phenomena. Young people travelling after college, meeting others doing the same thing. This is what it takes to realize that "others" are not so different. Instead of being a slave to how media usually portrays the "other", we can make judgements for ourselves. "Hey, that American isn't an arrogant asshole! Hey, that Iranian is a nice guy! Hey, that Australian isn't a drunk! Wait.. no.. he's drunk." That's why I want to go somewhere that isn't white, Christian, technologically up-to-date. Something that is truly different and unseen. I imagine I would discover that "they" are not so different from "us" either... but I want to actually see that. In due time, young Matthew. First, I have a job in France to attend to, then Spain.
After that... the world is my oyster.
-Matt
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Jamie's Crying
Oh man. I am sitting it my room right now. It's Monday night at 11:45pm. A baby or young child of some sort is crying in the apartment below me. I gotta tell you: it's breaking my heart. The sound of a child in distress can transcend cultural/linguistic/national borders. It's pure. It's terrible.
Christ. I can't stand it. It sounds like this kid is crying his eyes out. I know, sometimes a child can be stubborn and outright wrong. I was that way until the age of 21. But dammit, cut 'em some slack. This kid is wailing. Oh man. This is really effecting me. I kind of want it to stop, but at the same time I am thinking "Keep going kid!"
Oh hell. I don't know what I am saying. I just want him/her/it to stop...
Wait. It stopped. Ok. I am going to sleep. Hang in there kid.
-Matt
Christ. I can't stand it. It sounds like this kid is crying his eyes out. I know, sometimes a child can be stubborn and outright wrong. I was that way until the age of 21. But dammit, cut 'em some slack. This kid is wailing. Oh man. This is really effecting me. I kind of want it to stop, but at the same time I am thinking "Keep going kid!"
Oh hell. I don't know what I am saying. I just want him/her/it to stop...
Wait. It stopped. Ok. I am going to sleep. Hang in there kid.
-Matt
Sunday, January 27, 2008
They're Grrrreat!
I awoke this morning for one reason:
Breakfast cereal.
I just got a new cereal, and let me tell you, the sun is shining bright in central France. In all honesty, I haven't eaten cereal in many years. Throughout college I got into the habit of a solid nutritious breakfast of eggs, toast, yogourt, etc. Cereal was a part of my past. It was childish. I would be ashamed. Not to mention, the selection was abysmal: either bible-thin flakes dunked in crack or goat-poop chocolate balls that left minute lacerations on my tongue. Um, no. I'll pass thankyouverymuch.
Until now! I found a cereal here that is manly. Thick flakes... no, "flakes" will not do. Women eat flakes... ah yes, CHIPS. Much more manly. Thick chips covered in oats, grains, and corn. The things that men eat. The staples in the hearty diet of every lumberjack. Chips so thick that it sounds like I am eating shards of broken glass. In fact, I put shards of glass in the bowl because I am so manly. I can take it. Look at me. One hundred and sixty pounds of man, wood, grain, and sex.
What is the name of this Valhalla of Vitality, this Elysium of Extacy, this Heaven of Heterosexuality?
Nestle's Fitness: For the Line, For the Form.
On the front of the box is a the outline of a woman and an unnecessarily magnified picture of the cereal on a silver spoon. There are many varieties, including chocolate, cappoccino, and normal, but I chose multi-grain.
Fitness is one of those cereals that is marketed towards women, kind of like Special K (though Special K is also available). What I love is that there is absolutely nothing in this cereal that is especially women-friendly. It's cereal for Darwin's sake! Damn those marketeers and their good ideas. Now men across the planet who are looking for a cereal that is high in fiber, low in sugar, and not Wheaties (I hate Wheaties for the above mentioned reason that they are so thin that the cereal transforms into a brown paste in five minutes, not to mention the agony of trying to fish for the last few flakes in the bowl. At that point, my only motivation is clearing the bowl of debris, as the pay-off is certainly not the flavor) must go for the cereals marketed towards women. What does this mean? Do the marketeers think that women are smarter and healthier than men?
Eh, they're probably right.
-Matt
Breakfast cereal.
I just got a new cereal, and let me tell you, the sun is shining bright in central France. In all honesty, I haven't eaten cereal in many years. Throughout college I got into the habit of a solid nutritious breakfast of eggs, toast, yogourt, etc. Cereal was a part of my past. It was childish. I would be ashamed. Not to mention, the selection was abysmal: either bible-thin flakes dunked in crack or goat-poop chocolate balls that left minute lacerations on my tongue. Um, no. I'll pass thankyouverymuch.
Until now! I found a cereal here that is manly. Thick flakes... no, "flakes" will not do. Women eat flakes... ah yes, CHIPS. Much more manly. Thick chips covered in oats, grains, and corn. The things that men eat. The staples in the hearty diet of every lumberjack. Chips so thick that it sounds like I am eating shards of broken glass. In fact, I put shards of glass in the bowl because I am so manly. I can take it. Look at me. One hundred and sixty pounds of man, wood, grain, and sex.
What is the name of this Valhalla of Vitality, this Elysium of Extacy, this Heaven of Heterosexuality?
Nestle's Fitness: For the Line, For the Form.
On the front of the box is a the outline of a woman and an unnecessarily magnified picture of the cereal on a silver spoon. There are many varieties, including chocolate, cappoccino, and normal, but I chose multi-grain.
Fitness is one of those cereals that is marketed towards women, kind of like Special K (though Special K is also available). What I love is that there is absolutely nothing in this cereal that is especially women-friendly. It's cereal for Darwin's sake! Damn those marketeers and their good ideas. Now men across the planet who are looking for a cereal that is high in fiber, low in sugar, and not Wheaties (I hate Wheaties for the above mentioned reason that they are so thin that the cereal transforms into a brown paste in five minutes, not to mention the agony of trying to fish for the last few flakes in the bowl. At that point, my only motivation is clearing the bowl of debris, as the pay-off is certainly not the flavor) must go for the cereals marketed towards women. What does this mean? Do the marketeers think that women are smarter and healthier than men?
Eh, they're probably right.
-Matt
Friday, January 25, 2008
Fatigue
Dude. I am tired. Work has kept me quite busy recently. Deliveries, interviews, tours, problems, pub crawls. I need a vacation. But by tomorrow, most of it will be done. So, no post today, but tomorrow you can learn about how I overheard a drug deal at a cafe and the other random goings-on.
Until then,
Matt
Until then,
Matt
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
To Pee or Not To Pee
So I was peeing just a few seconds ago and I realized something: I am very self-conscious of the audible volume of my pee. Allow me to explain: When a dude is peeing, he has to aim his pee-stream. It's only natural and completely understandable. But where to direct the stream?
Option number 1: You can aim for the porcelain interior of the bowl (not in the water), thereby dulling the pee-sounds. But then people will be like "Dude, what's with that guy? I can't even hear him! He went inside to pee and I can't hear him. Is he even peeing? He must have a serious problem. Either he must have big prostate or a small wee wee. Let's not socially interact with him."
Option number 2: You can pee at the edge of the water. This produces a higher pitched pee-sound, but this can again be misinterpreted. Let's be honest, everybody can hear me pee. If I choose option 2, they will think I am a sissy with my falsetto pee-sound.
No, I choose option 3: Pee in the middle of the bowl, right into the water where it is deepest (meaning it is right into the pipe that takes the pee to the cesspool). In order to pull off an option 3, a dude needs balls. He needs moxy. He needs gusto. It takes a great deal of confidence to pee here, as everybody can hear you. You must be proud to say "Yes, listen to me pee. It is a solid stream and I am proud of it. I have a deep sexy baritone pee-voice." And who even knew that pee-voice's existed! You do, most righteous reader. You do.
-Matt
Option number 1: You can aim for the porcelain interior of the bowl (not in the water), thereby dulling the pee-sounds. But then people will be like "Dude, what's with that guy? I can't even hear him! He went inside to pee and I can't hear him. Is he even peeing? He must have a serious problem. Either he must have big prostate or a small wee wee. Let's not socially interact with him."
Option number 2: You can pee at the edge of the water. This produces a higher pitched pee-sound, but this can again be misinterpreted. Let's be honest, everybody can hear me pee. If I choose option 2, they will think I am a sissy with my falsetto pee-sound.
No, I choose option 3: Pee in the middle of the bowl, right into the water where it is deepest (meaning it is right into the pipe that takes the pee to the cesspool). In order to pull off an option 3, a dude needs balls. He needs moxy. He needs gusto. It takes a great deal of confidence to pee here, as everybody can hear you. You must be proud to say "Yes, listen to me pee. It is a solid stream and I am proud of it. I have a deep sexy baritone pee-voice." And who even knew that pee-voice's existed! You do, most righteous reader. You do.
-Matt
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