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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Seoul searching

Terenceís Korean interview went pretty well. He asked a lot of questions about what they hoped to get out of visiting foreign designers, how long the tour of duty was, how international the offices are, what kinds of hours they work. If he makes it to the next round, the company will fly him to Seoul to check out headquarters, the city, the corporate housing, theyíll fit him for a special jumpsuit and have him participate in morning calisthenics with the rest of his comrades.

The corporate housing thing makes me uncomfortable. I canít decide if it will look more like The Village in ĎThe PrisonerĒ or like some crumbling Olympic village from way back. As many people have warned me about Korea as have been encouraging about the nuttiness of the idea. Iím torn.

Technically, I donít have to move there. Terence can go alone, and try it out. I can stay here, work and do whatever it is I usually do. Weíre not siamese twins after all. I could go visit and see if I like it. I like kimchee, but that doesnít mean Iíll like everything. And notice how I havenít even mentioned if Iíll miss him? I most definitely would. I mean, he was gone yesterday for 12 hours, and when he came home, I was like a puppy.

All of this has got us thinking that we should really just move back to France already. The visa issue for Terence could be swiftly removed with a stupid marriage certificate (Ďswiftlyí is used for flourish; everybody knows that the French Way of Doing Things takes a zillion times longer than Any Other Way of Doing Things. However, that said, I must acknowledge that things do go faster at the consular level sometimes.) Anyway. My friend Nadia is planning on moving in with her boyfriend, and I am going to email her and suggest that we take over her apartment. Itís in the 11th which Iím not that crazy about, but itís dirt cheap, centrally located, and steps away from my old yoga school. In fact, Iím going to get on that immediately. Thereís no time like the present. And sidebar: I am so annoyed that they are looking for a place in Colombes! Itís some backwater, retarded suburb! If I move back to Paris, she will rue the day she left the city for the Ďburbs! I donít care how in love she is! What about meeeeeeeeeee? And my neeeeeeeeeeds?

Once in France, I will be a more desirable candidate for jobs since Iíll be Ďsur place.í Which once again reminds me that my crazy old landlady once told me she knew Bernard Arnault. Jesus Christmas! I could be working somewhere in the LVMH Superdome! Why didnít I remember that? Well, the important thing is I remember it now. I wish my crazy old landlady had email. I could just shoot her a message right now, while sheís sleeping...

Oh my god. Why this sudden flurry of wordage? Caffeine! I canít believe I didnít make the connection until now. These synapses of mine are being very herky jerky and uncooperative.

5:52 p.m. - 2002-10-16

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