The First of a hopefully long line of Monday Posts

Hey peeps, sorry for the delay! The movies post is still in progress. I want to incorporate a joke drawing I did, so I spent the last few days hassling with a picture editing software . He’s quite unreasonable, won’t let me do what I want! I’ll get back to it tomorrow, when it’s not giving me homicidal thoughts a headache.

So for now, let me introduce you to a regular feature, the Artsy Post of the Week!

Monday is officially declared artsy review time! Stuff I admire or stuff I made, pictures, paintings, poems, anything even remotely connected to the Arts.

Week One: Spring Is In The Air.

Finally! The weather got to me, I swear, and my artistic likes of the week are definitely cheer-inducing and full of sunlight.

My first find of the week is a photographer, Laurie Victor Kay. She takes picture since age 14 and has studied not only photography but also painting and art history, and it shows. Her website here, and a few pictures to motivate you to go look:

And a last one that particularly struck me, taken in my hometown:

I really like the colors and composition of her pictures. I might try toying with the kaleidoscope concept as well. I’ll make sure to post the results (yes, even if it sucks :p). {A reminder that these pictures are all Copyright of Laurie Victor Kay.}

Second item on this week’s list, a poem. I’ve known it ever since I started taking English litterature classes and fell in love with the romantics, and I love re-reading it.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

 William Wordsworth

Lastly for this week’s post, I present to you a tattoo artist, Benjo San. You can find him in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France. A few of his works I find amazing and would very much like to have:

I have a black star inside a red cloud inked on my wrist, this one would go soooo well with it… *looks hopefully at wallet then cries*

I don’t usually like lettering tats, but this guy is so good he can make me love anything…

A fun, graphic tattoo. WANT.

That’s it for now folks! Hope you liked what I showed you today :)

Sweat and tears.

I just left my first step lesson crying. That’s a new low indeed, even for me. I’ve started going to the gym in november, and i’ve been relatively serious about going twice a week. I don’t go to the classes much, usually I just do cardio and weights. Recently I’ve hit a block: what I do isn’t taxing enough anymore for me to loose weight, but I don’t really feel up to doing more… That’s why I thought a class would be a good idea: it’s bound to be more intense than me doing stuff all by me onesies.

Apparently my self-confidence isn’t boosted enough yet! It was way too fast a class for a beginner like me. The instructor only showed us the steps once before we were supposed to do them in synch with the music, and after about 25 minutes of fumbling around, with no help at all from him, I started thinking about how ridiculous I looked, and how stupid I was for not getting it right, and then I felt lousy for thinking that I had to do it perfectly right off the bat, and then I started crying, and then I left. I think the ten beefy guys watching us from the window (opening into the weights room) didn’t help.

So now I feel bad about not being able to follow, and guilty I gave up. But once I started crying, there was no turning the faucet off! I was still eye-leaking on the subway home.

I’m just going to focus on the cardio for a while, try to build a bit more muscle and stamina, and try again in the summer, when the class really is a beginner’s class.

Hopefully a happier post tomorrow, about movies and TV shows!

EDIT: That cheered me up:

WTF Alert

En visitant le blog A Confederacy of Spinsters, je suis tombée sur ce post : http://confederacyofspinsters.com/2012/01/06/please-do-not-meow-at-me-so-sir/
Première réaction: Hein ? The guy meowed at her? Ensuite, j’ai lu. (D’ailleurs, si vous speakez anglais, allez lire tout de suite, they’re great!) Mais WTF, les amis, WTF. C’est devenu une tendance quand j’avais le dos tourné, ce truc ? Miauler sur les gens les femmes pour les faire taire ? Ces gars-là n’ont pas encore traversé l’Atlantique. (Je crois moyen qu’on soit “a land of common courtesy”. Ça nous rattrapera, c’est sur. Gentlemen french guys are not.)

Grace, l’auteur du post, s’offusque. Et si c’est utilisé “sérieusement”, dans le but réel de faire taire et d’insulter une femme, je suis d’accord : c’est abuse.

C’est quand même un peu humiliant, les sous-entendus “dès qu’une femme a des arguments autres que ses seins = chat vénère”… mais honestly? Pour ce qui est de la tactique en elle-même, du bruit produit… Je trouve ça hilarant. Je m’imagine déjà un vendredi soir prochain, au milieu de la joyeuse bande de rigolos alcoolisés que nous sommes, miauler comme une motherfucker dès qu’un pote dira une connerie. Retournons la situation ! Miaulons sur tout le monde ! Puéril ? Grave. Façon géniale de passer à autre chose ? Fuck yeah! En plus, à force de l’utiliser de façon triviale, entre potes comme synonyme de “roh-la-discussion-devient-trop-longue-vas-y-on-arrête”, ça va devenir un cliché. Et puis on passera à autre chose, quand ce truc-là sera devenu vide de sens. 

Je sais pas si on peut appeler ça du langage, vu que c’est seulement un bruit, mais c’est drôle de voir les modes et les tendances dans la façon dont les gens communiquent…. Si ça se trouve, dans 15 ans, on se frottera les oreilles pour se faire la bise !

About moving, watching stuff, and looking for a job.

Hey ya peeps! As I told you, I’m a translator. A video games translator, even. Or rather, I’m supposed to be: there is NO vacant job in France, it seems. I’ve been unemployed for a year, not counting my six-month stint as a lingerie saleswoman. So after loooong debates with myself, conversations with the bf, and convincing family and friends, it’s decided: I’m moving abroad next year. But where to? Big issue here. Obviously, it should be an english-speaking country, otherwise I’m no use there (except maybe in Germany, they translate loooads of games.)

Overview of my options

United Kindgom: Salt & Vinegar Pringles. Need I say more? Pims. Cadburry. And, yes, okay, amazing cities, vibrant people & looks. I’ve only been to London these past few years, but as a teenager I visited various cities around the country that I absolutely adored, like Oxford and Cambridge.

The United States: After Eight M&Ms, anyone?! And they cook pumpkin like there is no tomorrow. I like pumpkin, therefore this makes me happy. Big Cons: it’s very, very far away from France. Makes weekend trips to see the bf sliiightly difficult. My family is scared of planes as well. And i feel life is… too big and full for me there.

Germany: Amazing country. Berlin really blew my mind, and I can’t wait to go back. But I don’t speak a word of german, except the lyrics to Rammstein songs. Educational to be sure, but do I really need the added pressure of having to learn another langage right as I’m already making a life-altering decision? Not so sure.

Spain: Okay, obviously not an English-speaking country. But I could brush up on my very flawed spanish, and I’ve always wanted to live there. The flamenco dresses got to me as a kid, I admit. Barcelona, Salamanca…

In all cases, my life would change radically. Change is as good as a rest? Not for me. Usually, change scares me and forces me into immobilism. I don’t have a choice now though, if I keep on like this I feel like my brain is gonna rot. Staying at home all day while bf and friends are at work… not to so good for my well-being. I’m a lazy bitch, but apparently I’m also an active person.  Which is why I know I’ll feel good after moving, I’m just scared shitless of actually taking the plunge!

I know my life wouldn’t be that different. I’ll find a few friends to play board games and drink with, I’ll follow the same tv shows, read the same kind of books… But I’ll also discover new food, go to new places, do all sorts of new, stimulating stuff which could perfectly be the electroshock my brain needs at the moment.

Conclusion? Bye bye, France. I’ll be sad to go just when a left-wing party finally leads the country and sad to leave the cozy nest of my family and friends, but I think I need this. I swear I’ll (probably) come back. Stay tuned for more about my crazy search for an internship abroad!! And in the meantime, fire away with the comments! What did going abroad bring for you?

Where I say the truth about why I want to blog

I want to express myself, that much I’ve said already. Truth is, these past few years I’ve had a case of the worst internet-shyness ever…  Which kind of spilled over actual social interactions as well. To fight this, I want to blog! Realize it’s okay to say what I want when I want, and that I don’t have to be judged for it/by it. I was letting what I thought people were thinking of me limit my wishes. No more, I say, No More! In addition, I really love to talk, and I really like language, so it seems like a sweet deal. Probably a longer post tomorrow, if I’m not sleeping hangover really really busy!

Le Pourquoi du Comment

Aujourd’hui, ça y est, j’arrête de procrastiner : je commence mon blog. Ça fait un petit moment que j’y pense, histoire de m’exprimer un chouïa, de retrouver une activité un tant soit peu littéraire… et puis faut bien s’occuper pendant ces longues journées de chômage ! Alors, without further ado:

Qui suis-je ?

Gathou, traductrice anglais-français de 24 ans. J’ai pas vraiment de boulot pour l’instant, je vis depuis un an à Paris avec mon copain, après 3 années coolissimes d’études à Lille. J’aime la culture et la langue anglaise, donc vous étonnez pas si je switch en cours de phrase, si je francise de l’anglais ou anglicise du français, je suis un peu timbrée là-dessus… Je fais un peu de sport, j’aime les jeux vidéos et les jeux de société, faire des photos et me croire artiste, inventer des mots, les soirées entre potes, les séries télé, chipoter quinze ans sur le terme parfait pour traduire tel mot, et lire. Beaucoup beaucoup, et surtout des trucs légers (j’assume. À peu près).
De toutes façons, la meilleure façon de me connaître, c’est encore de me lire. N’ayez pas peur, je vous promets je mords pas… unless it’s asked nicely.

Qu’est ce que je vais bien pouvoir raconter ?

Tout et n’importe quoi. Des villes que j’aime aux films que j’ai vus, en passant par comment j’ai du mal à me motiver le matin et “nan-mais-vous-avez-vu-le-cliffhanger-de-ouf-du-dernier-épisode-de”. Un peu de trad, un peu de télé, un peu de musique, un peu de blabla… la vie, quoi. Mais vue depuis chez moi !  Je ferai d’autres posts d’introductions, histoire de présenter un peu les gens dans ma vie, détailler tout ça… pour l’instant je vais aller voir si je peux comprendre comment marche wordpress! See you soon guys.