Feelings we're afraid to admit...

"I tried to get through that moment, discovering, in the process, that there is nothing worse than the feeling that no one cares whether we exist or not, that no one is interested in what we have to say about life, and that the world can continue turning without our awkward presence.
I began to imagine how many millions of people were, at that moment, feeling utterly useless and wretched - however rich, charming, and delightful they might be - because they were alone that night, as they were yesterday, and as they might well be tomorrow. Students with no one to go out with, older people sitting in front of the TV as if it were their sole salvation, businessmen in their hotel rooms, wondering if what they were doing made any sense, women who spent the afternoon carefully applying their makeup and doing their hair in order to go to a bar only to pretend that they're not looking for company; all they want is confirmation that they're still attractive; the men ogle them and chat them up, but the women reject them all disdainfully, because they feel inferior and are afraid the men will find out that they're single mothers or lowly clerks with nothing to say about what's going on in the world because they work from dawn to dusk to scrape a living and have no time to read the newspapers. People who look at themselves in the mirror and think themselves ugly, believing that being beautiful is what really matters, and spend their time reading magazines in which everyone is pretty, rich, and famous. Husbands and wives who wish they could talk over supper as they used to, but there are always other things demanding their attention, more important things, and the conversation can always wait for a tomorrow that never comes.
That day, I had lunch with a friend who had just got divorced and she said to me: "Now I can enjoy the freedom I've always dreamed of having." But that's a lie. No one wants that kind of freedom: we all want commitment, we all want someone to be beside us to enjoy the beauties of Geneva, to discuss books, interviews, films, or even to share a sandwich with because there isn't enough money to buy one each. Better to eat half a sandwich than a whole one. Better to be interrupted by the man who wants to get straight back home becasue there's a big game on TV tonight or by the woman who stops outside a shop window and interrupts what we were saying about the cathedral tower, far better that than to have the whole of Geneva to yourself with all the time and quiet in the world to visit in.
Better to go hungry than to be alone. Because when you're alone - and I'm talking here about an enforced solitude not of our choosing - it's as if you were no longer part of the human race.
A lovely hotel awaited me on the other side of the river, with its luxurious rooms, its attentive employees, its five-star service. And that only made me feel worse, because I should have felt contented, satisfied with all I had achieved.
On the way back, I passed other people in the same situation and noticed that they fell into two categories: those who looked arrogant, because they wanted to pretend they had chosen to be alone on that lovely night, and those who looked sad and ashamed of their solitary state."

~from Paul Coehlo's "The Zahir"

Do you ever feel this way. Or is it just me?

Blaaaaaaaaaaah

Well, I was gone the past three days and now I feel like I should write something cuz it's been a while. THE PRESSURE!!!!

But there's just not much to tell. There actually isn't anything about the field trip in Schneeberg with the grade 6's that is worth writing about. They are annoying, loud, snotty (in the proverbial sense, not literal...at least usually not literal :P), ridiculously immature, and yet on some level slightly loveable. They boys made nasty pervy comments THE WHOLE TIME. Like, I mean, not ONE WORD out of their mouths was about something other than sex or girls and the like. And when they started talking about masturbation at the breakfast table, that's when I put my foot down. I just looked at Dominic with my best teacher's-no-nonsense-skin-melting glare and said "I'm eating." Oddly enough they got the point. Haha. And then I made the mistake of wearing a t-shirt with comics all over it today, which gave the boys license to stare at my chest and read the speech bubbles. Note to self: pubescent boys are nasty nasty nasty creatures. (No offense to any of my male family members that happen to be around that age...love you guys).

Anyways, I honestly think that's it. Us teachers unwound with champagne in the evenings. lol. Lifesaver, I'm telling ya! But it's fun to just chat, swap stories, and hear all about their past experiences. Good times. And there are officially only 16 more days left til I'm done here! sniff sniff.

Ya, that's all I've got. You are dismissed. See? Won't I make an EXCELLENT teacher???

STALEMATE

So I just finished reading the short story "Breakfast at Tiffany's". Now most of you know (or should know :P) that I LOVE that movie. I have for years. But I didn't know until recently that it was originally a story by THE Truman Capote. So when my landlord offered his copy to me I couldn't say no, even though I always prefer to read things in their original language. What can I say, I couldn't wait another 50 odd days to reach Canadian soil and acquire the book myself. I actually got shivers up my spine when I started reading. I KNOW, I'M A DORK, A NERD, A KEENER. You don't have to tell me; I've been aware for years...AND DANG PROUD OF IT.



It started off almost just like the movie ... detail for detail. Even the exact words and expressions. I was impressed! I'm famous for hating movies that stray too far from the book. But first impressions are frequently deceptive and this case was no exception. The more I read the more discrepancies I found between this brilliant piece of writing and my deceased role model's most iconic film. And the worst thing a filmmaker can do, in my humble opinion, is completely change the ending to a story. In my point of view, he (or she) should then be forced to give the movie a completely new title and at the very most be able to claim their story is LOOSELY based on so-and-so's novel/play/whatever. Well, do I need to say it? Ok, fine: The ending of Breakfast-at-Tiffany's-the-movie is exactly the opposite of Truman Capote's original version. AND FOR THE FIRST (AND MOST LIKELY LAST) TIME IN THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE IT DIDN'T ANGER ME. All the differences between the two versions didn't bother me. It's an earth-shattering moment! Normally I get very upset and decide to boycott either the film or the book forever and ever and ever....and beyond. (Usually the film, because books are better 99.9% of the time.) But I simply finished the story ... smoked a cigarello outside in the beautiful evening sun (to feel oh-so-Audrey-Hepburn-like minus the long cigarette holder thingy) and then went inside to make my supper. This may not seem unusual to any normal human being but let's get real ... we're talking about ME here. Normal is hardly a word most people would use to describe me. Including myself. My theory is that I am simply incapable of disliking anything Audrey Hepburn has ever been a part of. And since Truman Capote's writing is so incredible I couldn't dislike the short story either. Stalemate. I simply have to like both, even though they really are anything BUT the same story. (Personally I like Audrey Hepburn's portrayal of Holly Golightly better than Capote's .... she's a much more sympathetic character in the film...might be cuz they left out the whole skanky aspect...then again I don't think Audrey Hepburn would make a good skank) So ya. That's the end. I have nothing more to say.



Except that I won't be around for the next 3 days. Class trip with the grade sixes. Have a good Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday!!!


And Happy Mother's Day, mom. Did you get any mail??? ;)

xoxo Julia

England in Detail

Did you already check out the post before this one? If not, DO. It's short but funny.


Ok, so, what has been going on? Let me think. I went grocery shopping on Wednesday.


Um, then came Thursday. What I affectionately refer to as the expect-anything day. You know, my day at the Zschettgauer kindergarten. Oh man, and yesterday was no exception. I was outside with the kids, walking near the sandbox and Seline was coming up behind me. All of a sudden she says to me "Your butt is smaller than it used to be". WHAT THE? WHERE DO THEY COME UP WITH THIS STUFF? I'm beginning to wonder if the kids all get together before I arrive to think up new ways to insult me. Or is that supposed to be a compliment? Was my butt in need of shrinkage? I guess that's what two weeks of eating English food does to ya. :P But Seline and Elisabeth more than made up for it later when they told me that I'm so beautiful, that my face is so beautiful, that I always look so beautiful. Haha. Now can I just dismiss the insults by rationalizing that they're 6 years old and have no idea what they're talking about while at the same time accepting their compliments as the truth? LOL. Or is that a little bit relativistic??? Um, hmmmm.


So I got an email from my dad the other day asking if "that was all I was going to blog about England". Which I assume means he would like a more thorough account. So I shall oblige while still attempting to keep it relatively short. :) Key word here being ATTEMPTING. So settle in for the long haul...

We got to St. Bede's prep school in Eastbourne (East Sussex) around midnight of Sunday, the 19th of April where the director of the program, John Endean, met us and showed us our little "boarding house", also called Down's House.

The next morning we met Lisa and James, the two afforementioned English teachers. For the first two "class periods" we got a bit of a tour around the absolutely gorgeous and so totally English Mede's Village (which is, like, the ritzy part of Eastbourne and just happens to be where St. Bede's is located). In the afternoon we were taken into the "downtown" area of Eastbourne (population approximately 80 000) where the kids could look around and shop for a bit. I could not BELIEVE how much allowance some of them had along from their parents. As in some actually had more money along than me! That's depressing. Haha. Anyways, they basically spent most of their money on candy, chips, ice cream, and coca cola. No joke. They were in England for two weeks and spent their money on crap they can get at home. Oh well, their loss.

On Tuesday the kids had class in the morning and us teachers went to "the library" (<- again, insert definition of what you think the "library" is here...). In the afternoon James taught the kids how to play "baby rugby", which basically means non-bone-breaking/concussion-causing rugby. I actually just realized that I took a video of this attempt, so here it is. Also another chance for you ladies to drool over Sir Hamblyn. :)

After that he taught us rounders, which is basically a variation of baseball. The bats are much shorter and you're only supposed to use one hand, but I couldn't get used to it and couldn't hit properly like that, so I just basically used it like a baseball bat. Oh ya, and there are 4 bases, which I could not get used to the entire 2 weeks we were there. So annoying. A few other rules that differed from baseball, but I won't bore you with the details. :P It was super fun and I went absolutely crazy-like (hence earning the title of Crazy Canadian Julia) when we played it, which apparently amused the kids and the teachers greatly. And made James try to get me out the whole time. I came close to using brutal physical force several times. He was lucky that I was usually across the field from him. Jerk.

On Wednesday I tanned and read my book right next to the ocean. I could live there, I'm tellin ya. Maybe I need to move to a coastal area at some point in my life... In the afternoon James took us on the Falling Sands Walk (Lisa's afternoon off). That was to the beach where Robin Hood Prince of Thieves was filmed (well, the scene where Kevin Costner washes up on English land...). It was such an incredible walk. First up over green English meadows and then down to the crazy and slightly treacherous beach where you have to make your way across this giant stretch of massive rocks that are all slippery with moss and algae (cuz they're normally covered in water during high tide...). Needless to say, me, James, and some of the more ambitious kids got there approximately 20 minutes before the teachers and dawdlers. :) But it was so beautiful. I could have sat there for days.

Then on Thursday Lisa took all of us to London. We visited the Tower of London, the London Bridge, Westminster Abbey, the Parliament buildings, Big Ben, and St. James Park. It was obviously quite rushed because we only had a certain amount of time and EVERYTHING takes a little longer when you've got 30 brats in tow. :) But it was just beautiful. I have to say, London is different than I thought it would be. I don't really know how, but it was just such an incredible mixture of new and old and everything was just so British. And it was actually LESS touristy than I thought. I mean, I probably heard more American-English and German than British-English that day, but the actual city didn't feel so awfully "on display". It felt comfortable and not nearly as crowded as some tourist-traps that I've been to. But like I said, I was only in London twice, so what do I know? But you wanna know something crazy? Approximately 8-10 million people live in London! Do you realize that that is approximately 1/4 to 1/3 of the ENTIRE population of CANADA??? A little mind-boggling, isn't it? I still can't get over that fact. Everytime I think about it I go on the Internet and check the numbers again. Haha.

Friday was nothing special....Then Lisa was off for the weekend and James took us to Brighton on Saturday where we visited the Sea Life Centre and spent the afternoon in the city centre. According to James it is THE gay city in southern England. And after sitting in the market place with him for 2 hours of people-watching, one of my fave pasttimes, I'm inclined to agree. Especially after I saw this one muscle-bound fake-baked too-much-hair-gel-wearing dude strut his stuff, wearing a baby pink t-shirt ... with diamonds in the ...ahem.... nipple regions. Plus all the posters announcing the upcoming LadyBoys of Bangkok drag show were kind of a dead give-away. Was an interesting afternoon. And I was slightly ravenous. You see, one of the packed lunches we got from the school cafeteria in the morning didn't have a sub sandwich in it. And since I wasn't very hungry during the two weeks we were in England (don't ask me why, very uncharacteristic, I know) I told one of the teachers to give it to James when he got there and I would sacrifice myself for the sandwich-less lunch. But then James left his lunch at the train station so he was lunchless and I was sandwich-less. And of course, Murphy's law kicked in that day and I got really hungry in the afternoon. Well, at least I had a water bottle along. Filled stomach with tasteless calorie-less liquid. That's what I get for being nice.

On Sunday we were in Portsmouth where we took the kids to see the HMS Victory (Admiral Nelson...British victory, etc...). Then the kids got some free time in the afternoon to shop the outlets in Portsmouth, right next to the ocean. Everything from Burberry and Ralph Lauren to Next, Nike, and the Gap. I just went straight to Starbucks, where I ordered a venti Tchai Tea Latte (well, actually I ordered a venti Tai Chi Latte, but I think the girl knew what I meant...) ...after which I received a tall Tchai Tea Latte...after which I demanded a venti because I paid 3 fricking pounds 40 and didn't want that dinky little drink. So she poured something from a container on the counter into a venti cup. And it was the worst Tchai Tea Latte I have ever ingested. Ever. But I drank the whole dang thing because I paid good money (**read: lots of money) for that mofo. Blech.

Monday was the only rainy day during our stay. Walked from Eastbourne's city centre back to Mede's Village in the pouring pelting rain and hurricane-like winds. Like, I'm from MANITOBA and I've never experienced a wind like that. Needless to say had to do hair twice that day.

Tuesday was London again with Lisa. On Cannon Street I saw more business men than I have in my entire life combined. It looked so cool. All these important Londoner people rushing here and there. I'm soooooo small-town. Then Lisa took us to St. Paul's cathedral. (By the way, love love love London's underground system. So practical and quick and urban feeling. lol) At St. Paul's Lisa told a big fat lie to the people working there. Told them we were a British class because that way you can climb to the top of St. Paul's and look out over London for 2 pounds as opposed to 10. The lady totally didn't buy Lisa's story (especially after one of the German teacher's joined in the discussion with her VERY OBVIOUS GERMAN ACCENT!!!) but Lisa is possibly the feistiest New Zealander I know (ok, so I only know 3, but trust me, she's basically the definition of FEISTY) and somehow managed to get us in for the cheap rate although the employees there basically didn't believe a word of it. We told the kids they were not allowed to speak a word of German so as not to give us away. ONLY ENGLISH. It was so cute. They actually listened to us, they were so scared. They even asked me if they were now criminals. I told them a little bit, yes. Haha. Needless to say Lisa asked me to act as the group leader with the kids going up (Lisa's not a fan of heights) because my Canadian accent was definitely a better alternative to the German accents of the teachers. :P After St. Paul's we went to Madame Tussaud's where I met the 3 most important dead people in my life (somehow that sentence doesn't seem quite right :P): Audrey Hepburn, William Shakespeare, and Charles Dickens. While all the Germans wanted their photos taken with Barack Obama. (They LOVE him out here...)

On Wednesday we went on the Beachy Head Walk with Lisa. Very pretty.

And then Thursday the kids had to do presentations (whatever they wanted, basically, as long as it was in English.) I made a video of the cross-dressing fashion show (for which I was employed as make-up artist/hair stylist) but it's too long to upload here. If you ever wanna see it (cuz it's actually pretty funny) ask me when I get home.

Ya, then in the evening we played one final game of rounders, where James and I actually ended up on the same team, so we kicked some major bum as opposed to the usual him trying to get me out followed by my snarky threats. Then it was time for goodbyes, which was sad. One of the girls actually cried her eyes out and said she never wanted to leave England. (NO IT WASN'T ME).

Oh, I nearly forgot Wilson! He is my ultimate England souvenir. See, this weird rubber volleyball appeared in the staff room one day (no one seems to know where it came from) and it basically never left my hands after that. I so rarely get the chance to play volleyball that I go a little overboard when I do. So anywho, volleyball and Julia, the whacko canuk, became inseparable. John tried to steal it a few times but he wasn't very successful. So on Thursday James decided that I should take my Wilson (you know, "Cast Away") home with me as a souvenir. John, Lisa, and James even signed it (some veiled insults and inside jokes...I love British humour...wait, no, English...they hate being called British as much as we hate being called American. And dad, I apologized to James for you! Haha. He forgives you.)! That was really cool. And SOMEHOW I managed to stuff it into my carry-on bag. Still not sure how it fit but I was determined. That sucker is coming to Canada! lol.

P.S. If you're interested in pics and haven't clicked on the links yet, go back 4 posts and you'll find three.

Oh America...

A friend of mine (whom none of you know....hence not bothering to name him, cuz I can just hear my parents asking "who?") sent me this and I found it HILARIOUS. And scarily ... true!



(click on the map to see a bigger version...)

Will write an actual blog entry tomorrow, but am too tired tonight. :) Have a good Thursday!

i. am. squirrel.

Oh man i nearly forgot my second favourite Brit word! "Knob". It's just an insult. Not quite sure exactly what it means, but I have a feeling it's not very nice - I'm a little afraid to ask; it's probably pervy. Oh, and "dodgey" is my third favourite word. Brilliant. Plus I love how British people constantly use insults as forms of endearment. They have such an incredibly morbid sense of humour. Maybe that's why I love their movies and comedy so much. I was born on the wrong frigging continent. LOL. Anyways, they always call one another "fatty" or "knob" ... or worse; whereas we North Americans refer to one another as "love" or "beautiful" or "darling" or "gorgeous" and the list goes on. Strange. **Note: this is NOT an invitation for you to all start your emails to me with insults. I'm still a Canadian... :P


Um, what else? Today was my first day back at school in 3.5 weeks. Actually I shouldn't have even bothered getting out of bed. I didn't have to attend 3 of my 4 scheduled classes. Fruitful day, don't ya think??? Grrrr. I hate days like that. Especially when you bike ALL THE WAY OUT TO THE SECOND SCHOOL BUILDING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY ONLY TO REALIZE THAT MOST OF THE STUDENTS FROM YOUR AFTER-SCHOOL ENGLISH CLASS ALL WENT HOME 2 HOURS EARLIER - i dunno, why they didn't have regular classes - don't really care. Meaning class is cancelled (cuz there's no point in teaching 2 people and then repeating it all again next week for the other 5) so you may as well just swing that tired a** back onto your rickety, rusty mass of spokes and rubber (I want my car back!) and pedal back home before you've even caught your breath from the ride THERE. Grr. Grr. Grr. Stupid voluntary classes that students aren't obligated to attend...It's ok, Julia, you're not around next week and then it's just two more lessons... THIS IS WHY I DON'T WANNA TEACH HIGH SCHOOL. I DESPISE SNOTTY 17 YEAR OLDS. Apparently I only like little snotty kids. Actually I shouldn't give you the wrong impression. The older kids are really nice. I just don't really enjoy teaching those classes as much as the younger ones.


Anyways, point of the story: frustrating day in terms of school. Or I guess LACK OF IT.


You're probably wondering why I won't be in school next week. Well, I get to go on another school trip! YAY! But it's just a short one. 3 days with the grade sixes. Sweet. I LOVE those kids. So cute. Plus they worship me, which always helps. ;P


My iTunes is playing Taylor Dayne again!! Think it's trying to tell me something? Or does it just KNOW that I LOVE THIS FRIGGING SONG!!! "Take me I'm yours...into your arms...never let me go....tonight I really need to know..." TELL IT TO MY HEART baby. frick ya. Sorry, need to stop for a little 80s dancing session (ah, the joys of living alone...)


Ok, I'm back. That was fun. And yes, I used a hairbrush as a microphone. And no, I feel no shame. What you see is what you get...


Can you tell I have too much energy? I've got the attention span of a squirrel. Did you know that my right calf is more defined than my right? I noticed during my workout today...


Ok, by the way, I find it hilarious how many emails and messages I've gotten about getting James to come to Canada. LOL! Geez, most of you ladies are married/engaged/dating! Oh, did I mention that he's a professional personal trainer? Trained the likes of Emma Thompson, Lily Allen, and Ioan Gruffudd (from Fantastic Four). Haha. I did tell him today tho that apparently he (and his impressive rugby skills) are always welcome in Canada. :P


Ok, I can't keep any thoughts straight anymore. In fact none of the "thoughts" above seem to be very organized either. So I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead. Happy day-after-Audrey-Hepburn's-birthday. ... I'm ridiculous.

Because it makes me happy...

Audrey.

In honour of a great woman's birthday.