Posted by: katelyninfrance | September 15, 2009

Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

The title of my post this time are the well-known lyrics to that Lady Marmalade song. The reason I used this as a title is because just like us Americans think it’s funny to try singing/talking in a foreign language, the French do the same. I mean they like to act silly when words sound funny to them even though they have no idea what it means, is this making sense? It’s probably not. But anyways, this reminded me of how many times I’ve heard said phrase above while in the US just because it was song lyrics and loleventhoughwespeakenglishwecantotallyjustsaythistooitsoundskindafunnyandisinthesongaren’twecoolyeahithinkso. (Good luck reading that. If you can I’ll give you a French e-cookie. But sadly French (store bought) cookies aren’t so good, so I apologize that you went to so much trouble for a sub-par e-cookie. Ahem.) And today for some odd reason I got really tempted to just say it to someone. But yeah not a good idea. For those of you not in the know, (I seem to be using this phrase quite a bit, huh?) said sentence above translated into English roughly means, “Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” so despite how totally hilarious it would be to try that baby out on someone, it would seem I have to pass. Yeah.

Ok Katelyn weirdest opening paragraph ever good job. Moving right along… saturday Carla and I ate at McDonalds like we were promised. However, I was not informed that we were eating there for lunch on saturday until after I had woken up on the late side and discovered the table laden with croissants and pain au chocolat and unthinkingly sucked them into my mouth like a vacuum cleaner. God they were SO GOOD. I wish I could have one EVERY MORNING. In fact, there is a bakery right across the street from the bus stop so I COULD. Maybe I WILL. And that’s enough with the caps lock on the last TWO WORDS. EXCEPT THAT. AND THAT. Right, so I was sadly on the full side and ended up just getting a kid’s meal. I had been planning on seriously getting like a super sized big tasty/big mac/double cheeseburger extravaganza and waddling around the rest of a day like an obese duck, but my plan was foiled. Ah rats. None the less it was delicious, and oh god the pickles how I’ve miiiisseeeedddd yyyoooouuuuu!!! Do you think like I could Amazon to ship me pickles? The problem with shipping packages to the house I’m currently at is since it’s so far off in the middle of grape and tree forest land the mailboxes are literally a 10 minute (okay maybe more like 5) walk away from the house so if there is a big package a lot of the time they’ll leave a little note saying to go pick it up at the post office. And French post offices are annoying as hell because you have to wait in a really long line and since it’s run by the state the employees are reaaalllyyy lazy. So I feel like it would be kinda mean if my host mom is like- oh hey, I got a package. I bet it’s totally worth this obnoxious trip to the post office and not some random condiment type dish my crazy American host daughter ordered off Ebay. But man I’d still do it. Yes I would.

So from Friday to Saturday one of my host mom’s friends from Paris stayed over. She was really nice although she smoked, surprise surprise. (EVERYONE smokes here, man. It’s annoying as hell.) Buuuttt it made me think about how badly I want to spend a weekend in Paris. And buy a lot of expensive clothing. And other expensive things. And maybe some not-as-expensive things too, it depends. I’m sure I’ll make it to Paris eventually, I mean my host fam has family there and they’ve pretty much hinted at a WE’RE GOING TO PARIS WTH YOU YAY trip. Perhaps at the first break? Breaks here are SO AWESOME. Like you know how in the US we have two breaks, one for christmas that’s like two weeks maybe and then the one for easter that is only one? WELL IN FRANCE we have four breaks and they are ALL TWO WEEKS. OMG. YAY. Also wednesdays are half days. And yet you hear all this stuff like- OMG THE FRENCH ARE IN SCHOOL ALL DAY FOR SO LONG HOW MUCH WORK THEY MUST DO. Lies I tell you, all lies. Well not quite, they do have work and all, but my homework load has been pretty nonexistent thus far. Also since I’m an American they don’t really grade me/expect me to do much at all. Not doing anything ftw! 

Er, this morning I had a free hour in between when the bus arrived at school and my first class. It was actually pretty awful; I started writing to waste the time and suddenly a rock broke loose or something and a waterfall of homesickness came a’rushing down from the mountain that is Katelyn. Did I mention that I feel like a mountain here? My height is multiplied ten-fold here. As well as my paleness. And shoe size. But anyway, yeah it was not fun at all. I felt like I wanted to jump on a plane right then and there. I really do love and miss all you guys quite a bit, I often wonder why it is I would ever want to leave such wonderful people. I am trying my best to adapt to life here but it isn’t always as fun and jokey as I make it sound here. I think I like making it sound more jokey and playing it down though, because I can really put things in perspective and learn to laugh at the ridiculousness that is currently my life. So I’ll probably continue to write in the style of weirdo me, but I really do miss you all. Like, a lot. D:

I think my comprehension might be improving a bit, which is reeaalllyy nice. I can understand a lot of what is going on, at least when spoken directly to. I’ve also been trying to speak quite a bit of French myself, and even though it’s probs completely incorrect I’m starting to get over the embarrassment of it, at least with the people that I am used to being with every day. So that’s a start. Sometimes I forget that I’ve only been here three weeks and am not some super human that can learn a language/get over all human fears and emotions in the blink of an eye. I will try to be kinder to myself.

Okay this is the last sappy/probs too personal lol why are you telling us this Katelyn paragraph (at least for this time) I promise. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I feel like a prepubescent girl here, at least with how my emotions are a’swinging all over the place and rebounding as quick as a rubber band. Like this morning I felt super terrible and low, right? Then at the end of the day I was practically bouncing out of my chair with happiness/contentment. Uh, what? Apparently I’m constantly the stereotypical PMS sufferer or something, or else I’m def pulling a middle school move because my emotions do a complete 360 in the quickest times and at the smallest thoughts. It’s really annoying. I’m not 12, dammit! I’m hoping this will lessen with time. I’m not liking this whole emotional regression deal. Not at all.

So sunday I got on a random creative spree and wrote a bit of a story type deal, as well as part of a song, so I thought I’d be cool and post it here because well this is my blog and I can so I’m gonna. I hope you guys like it/even read it lol. Weeell, here it is!

I wake up naturally after a full night’s sleep. Just enough, not too much to cause any grogginess, and not too little that my eyes would be pleading for more. I had pleasant dreams; rafting lazily down a calm river, I lay down on soft clouds and let the sun beat comfortably down on me. I didn’t worry about sun burn, skin cancer, or any of that; there was no need. Refreshed and bright-eyed, I look down at my lap and see a grand display of all of my favorite breakfast foods on a plush tray. There are two slices of French toast, gently charred, two eggs sunny side up with the yolks perfectly intact and creamy yellow, three slices of crisp bacon, and a mammoth chocolate chip muffin, which I always save for last. I sigh and push myself upright, the waterbed churns a bit in response, but it doesn’t cause me any discomfort. Tasseled pillows are pushed aside and I gently lift the tray as so not to disturb the contents. It is a silly action; nothing would fall even if I tossed it aside. I am not uncomfortably hungry- I never am- but still I eat because the food is delicious and I don’t have to worry about health or obesity anymore, after all. I polish off the muffin and push the empty tray aside; it will be dealt with later. Then I stand slowly, stretch, and walk out of my grand room, ready to start the day.

All of my friends are smiling as always. We do not speak; there is nothing to say and no need to say it. We are comfortable in the silence. I find the fact that I can still recall words rather incredible. I think it would be nice to paint this morning, and suddenly I see a door. I walk through it unsurprised and enter a studio that would be the envy of every artist. There are oil paints in every color, pastels, watercolors, colored pencils, markers of the highest quality, and miles and miles of fresh canvas. If I wished it, there would be chunks of fresh river clay, or if I fancied making something different, perhaps sheets of metal or baskets of faux fur. But I am not a 3-d artist, although I could be if I wished it. 

I pick up a brush from the wall of them and sit down to paint. The paint slides smoothly on the canvas; I feel the picture take shape under my deftly positioned hands. I am content as the time passes by. I no longer notice time; there is nothing to distract me, like feelings of hunger or exhaustion or the need to relieve myself. If I want to paint, I paint. Days may have passed, weeks even, it is no matter. With a flourish I sign my initials, RSK, and the piece is finished. It is the best yet, worthy of inclusion in the museum, and I push it aside and leave the studio. 

My friends wave in my direction and continue on with their activities. Jessica plays the most beautiful grand piano I have ever seen. The notes flow gently into my ears; it is a soothing, pleasant melody, one that I have never heard before. I close my eyes and try to absorb the music, try to let it overflow my senses and take me over, but it is no use and I walk away, skipping over clouds and passing by other people who let off a faint glow just as myself. I remember when I first got here I found it kind of funny how everyone shines faintly, just like in the stories. We do not have halos though, well, unless of course you want to, nor are we forced into white robes and golden sandals like I once imagined. Heaven is not nearly so contrived as one was made to think while on earth. Unless you want it to be. It is always what you want it to be.

I decide to get a meal; as I eat I find I can devote myself to the task entirely. In fact, I’ve spent days eating dish after dish, endlessly given more food as it was more food that I wanted. But I soon learned that no matter how much time you spend doing one activity, the time left doesn’t get any smaller. Closing my eyes I sprout wings- not the white feathered kinds seen in paintings of angels as I’ve always found those rather silly looking- but the brown and black speckled wings of a hawk, a bird that I admired when I was alive. The wings grow out to a suitable length and I kick off from the ground, feeling the wind whistle through my hair before letting the wind needed for flying take me wherever it may. Of course it took me to a restaurant, since that is where I wanted to go, after all. At first, flying was an unimaginable pleasure. I spent tons of time as a New One in the air, perfecting my speed and turning angles. If I had wanted it, I could have been a veteran flier as soon as I first spread my wings, but I instead wanted to learn like a living being, slowly and steadily getting better. Even as I saw younger New Ones flying circles around me, I still chose to stick it out and learn at my own human speed. Others looked at me strangely, but I tried not to mind. Whenever I tired of their stares they would disappear from my view, since that is what I wanted at the time. 

As a castle-like restaurant comes into view I tip my left wing downward and swerve in a semi-circle towards the entrance. Upon arrival I find it is empty; I prefer it that way. I enter and find a long wooden table with one place setting in which a large roasted chicken is placed, surrounded by fluffy stuffing and boiled vegetables. There is also a large goblet of wine; it is not there to intoxicate, but because I’ve always found drinking wine with meals awfully classy. I sit down and begin eating. My goblet refills itself; I could call for a waiter but I don’t like dealing with people while eating, it has always been a solitary activity for me. 

One chicken, two apple pies, and four ice cream sundaes later I exit the building, feeling exactly as I did before- not hungry but not quite full either. It is a tiring feeling. At this thought I suddenly feel bloated, and decide it is not such a tiring feeling after all. 

I unfurl my wings and leap into the air, not quite knowing what it is I want to do. I could go windsurfing, rock climbing, horseback riding… but I’ve done all that before. I can hardly remember what it is like to feel excited at doing something new, something unexpected. Dejected I return to my room, which conveniently appears in front of me, and collapse on the velvet sheets, falling instantly asleep, just as I wanted.


I also wrote some poems during a free hour at school, so I’ll share those too while I’m at it. But these actually have to do with France/my experience here and I think help give a fuller picture of it all so it is a bit more useful and sensible than what I just posted, eheh. They’re untitled as of now.

It’s hot.
The sun is beating down
On my pearly snow-flesh
I must be an egg that is
Bubbling, sizzling on a
Searing griddle or perhaps
White bread turning
Crisp and charcoal in
The toaster that is France.

I don’t quite understand
The mystery that is language
The Tower of Babel
The Tour D’Eiffel
But it is a river
A torrential downfall
Of words skipping like
Stones across
The water and I am
One salmon who swims
Furiously against the
Current, trying to return
To the place where I was born.

Well I hope those gave a bit more of an insight into what’s going down here. I dunno, I feel like having poetry about stuff here is a nice variety to the normal LOL I DID THIS AND THEN LIKE HE SAID OUI LOL that normally goes on here. But I hope you like that too. I sure like writing it, lol. 😀

Holy freakin’ crap this is a long ass post even by my standards. 2800 words. Dear Katelyn, get a life. Nah. NEVEEERRRR!!!! Oh gee I’m becoming nonsensical again this has been happening more often than naught. …I’m not sure how to end this, I mean it’s so long and (maybe?) epic that I feel like it needs to end with more than an lolbai. But you know what, screw that I’mma end it that way anyway. Lolbai. 😉


  1. We will eat a pickle in your honor. AND if I can figure out a way to send some to you without them being squishy, icky blobs; I will.

  2. Dear Katelyn,
    i’m eternally sorry i haven’t been on here since you left. but know that i think about you ALL the time. and things are crazy without you…the other day (and today) i passed wobama in the hallway and said it outloud (today i had people with me that wouldn’t jugde me as i said it hahah) and wow….i just…miss you..doing that with me….oh god.

    anyways, i miss you terribly, and i shall be reading more of your posts as you… i’m absorbing it like no other. lol. ❤ caroline

  3. Hello my dear!

    I just read your latest blog, and I must say your story was simply beautiful. You should post more of your writings here (Lol. it will help you remember English when you become fluent in French) Speaking of which, I’m so sorry you’re having troubles, but you’re one of the strongest, most charismatic people I know, you’ll pull through! Just know that even though you’re far away, we’re all here for you. *virtual hugs*.


    p.s. Totally random, but I was reading about this gorgeous castle which is the setting of one of my geeky British shows “Merlin”. Anyway I heard it was in France, and I was like “ZOMG Katelyn should go see the amazingly gorgeous Castle!”…Lol, then I looked it up on Google Earth, and it’s 15 hours away….sadness!!!! Although it’s not far from Paris. So if you go to Paris, you should see if you can check it out.


    Here is a picture of the pretty Castle….

    and here is a picture of the two wonderful British actors you might see walking around….
    (ignore the bears, they’re for some random charity)


  4. p.s. VOULEZ VOUS
    oh yes
    soooo good
    i’m thinking of new york.
    please keep writing your beautiful poetry. and everything like a teenage girl. i can hear you when you write, it’s pretty awesome!!! 😀
    i love you.

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