powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Les sabots d'HťlŤne

The public radio station here, KCRW, is holding its pledge drive right now. That means that out of every hour, 10 minutes are spent on national news, 50 minutes on begging for money. Itís so annoying. One pledge wrangler said, ďCan you believe in England, people have to pay a tax the equivalent of $150 a year to support public radio? And here, we just ask you to donate what you can!Ē like that was a good thing. I felt like calling her up and saying, ďCharge me the fucking tax so I donít have to listen to your sorry ass!Ē but that would have been insensitive. The new Me thinks a little longer before she acts (well, at least, the new Me is trying. Remember, this is the same Me who insulted her friend on her friendís birthday... Smooth move.)

That pledge drive and the fucking SuperBowl have made me feel even more like I donít belong here. The underdog team, the Patriots, won. Who paid off the NFL for that? In addition, the other night at The Dresden I had a strange exchange with someone that made me realize to what degree I am not 100% American. Leigh asked me, ďWhat did you do today?Ē and I listed all of the activities, including making lunch. She thought this was hilarious, ďMaking lunch? Thatís an item on your list? Thatís just something that you do, automatically, you know, not anything that takes that much effort.Ē I donít know why this bothered me so much, but it did. Itís not like I spend a ton of time making lunch, but for me, itís a ritual that requires some thought and preparation. You make the food, you set the table, you eat and talk, you put stuff away, you do the dishes, you have a coffee afterwards with maybe a little piece of chocolate, then you get back to work. I donít often have experiences that throw my bi-culturalism into such sharp relief, I guess.

People think itís so amazing that I speak fluent French, but I really had no choice in the matter. It was a priority for my parents, and so voila, I speak and write French. Itís not a novelty, itís just a fact. I set the table with the fork on the left, the knife on the right, blade in, and the spoon on the top, curved side down. I donít always put my napkin on my lap, but my hands are always on the table. When I eat salad, I use a knife and fork to fold up the larger leaves into portions that will fit into my mouth. I never cut lettuce with a knife. This is normal to me.

Man, I never thought a white cake with chocolate frosting would have this kind of effect on me.

9:25 a.m. - 2002-02-06

|

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

DiaryLand

contact

roll the dice

other diaries: