August 7th, 2010

It’s become a tired refrain, and I honestly doubt it will change before I leave: The internet is broken again. It sometimes spasmodically returns for a few minutes, enough to entertain me for a bit, before retreating to whatever hole it hides in. I am quite convinced that our neighbors are being swindled, or something like that.

Of course, I’m sure that finding internet in Paris could be equally difficult, especially if my host-mom, Mme Colette, doesn’t have wifi in her apartment. I don’t know that yet. I suppose I should ask. Is WiFi the same word in France? (Doubtful, l’academie française would have a fit). In any case, I am back to composing posts in word and wondering when the connection will return. Probably, never. (I am exaggerating, I hope).

It hasn’t been a good couple of days; my energy is all out of whack. I keep dropping things and inadvertently throwing things (often at myself, like the pitcher of creamer this morning at the restaurant). Yesterday, I had one absolute terror of a day, beginning with being chained to the hostess stand at the restaurant for an impossibly slow morning, and then thrown into the fire at the theater, during which the phone constantly rang, tickets were misplaced, and questions were asked to which there are no real good answers without asking tetchily, “…and what exactly are you referring to, sir/ma’am?” Not to mention that during this time, I was trying desperately to figure out the bank information in order to wire my housing deposit, and by the time I finally got through to the page, I realized that the euro had unexpectedly gotten stronger and I no longer had enough money to cover the thing.

I called my mom. I really, really, really did not want to have to ask my parents for money, seeing as it’s just as tight for them as it is for me, but I had to make that call, “Hi Mom, I need money.” I asked for fifty; I got a hundred. It was enough to cover it – and then I noticed that by the time the wire went through, it would be actually transferred Monday morning, August 9th, a day after the due date.

At this point, I got to my feet, told my co-worker I was going across the street for a second, and bought a gigantic brownie. Hey, sometimes there is only one solution to life – chocolate. (At least it wasn’t alcohol, right?!) I sent several e-mails to the program, so hopefully they won’t smack me with late fees, because I can’t afford them. In fact, I can’t afford anything right now. I am so broke they need to invent a new word for it.

I hate being poor. I’m not being facetious at the moment, either, I’m being honest. I think I went on a rant earlier this summer about that, but I just can’t stand that everything I spend, everything I do has to be regulated with the knowledge that I can’t afford anything. It’s not enough to make me want to be a lawyer, just because that pays well, but still.

I actually don’t have much to say; time is clipping along quickly and my days are filled with work, and again I couldn’t really tell you what happened on Monday without a great deal of thought. The City of Light is waiting for me.

Until next time.