No, I haven't seen The Dark Knight yet. It's cray cray out in the fields and people are cutting each other for a ticket out here. I don't understand why we can't all love one another and winged-fellows in harmony. My dorkier friends who went to a midnight screening (I didn't go because I had something important--sleeping--to do) told me that twenty minutes before it ended, the projector backfired and the theatre decided that they weren't gonna resume it and the audience would have to wait for the 3 AM screening (free, though). Yes, they had to watch it all over again just to see the last twenty minutes they missed. But three out of four of them said it was worth it.
The Dark Knight takes up where it left off, but if it’s a follow-up that introduces a comprehensive sociopath called the Joker, then how do you explain the fact that the Joker made his debut years ago as Jack Nicholson? It’s just one of the things that makes no sense, but hey-ho, since when did Batman and logic morph?
Doing something productive is so hard when all you want to do is cry. And you feel so guilty, because you know time is only counting down and you struggle to stay afloat but you just keep sinking. It's just so easy to blame yourself. It doesn't help that the pressures of others push you down even further. Nobody sees.
I just feel like I'm hurting so much right now. It all feels so generalized, too. What's wrong? Everything is wrong. I know what is bothering me right now, but everything else doesn't make it any better.
Just another BLAH kind of day, I guess.
My faithful readers might remember that over a year ago I claimed to have learned to ride a bike. This was lies.
After the previously noted two lessons, I didn't get back on the saddle until yesterday. Well over a year has passed, and I still have not truly learned how to ride a bike. I explained how I managed to reach a ripe old age and still be completely reliant on others for my transportational needs in this post, back in May 2007. Not much has changed since then.
But since I'm living on Ile de Ré for over six weeks, not riding a bike is really just not an option. Checking out the island's website shows that one of the ONLY things to do here is tour the villages by bike. To quote the site: the bicycle is Ré's favourite mode of transport . . ." (bolding is original to the site.) And when clicking on the information for the particular village I'm living in, Loix, they have this to say: We advise you to explore Loix de préférence by bike!
So I was very intimidated coming here. Sarah and Omar both knew that I don't know how to ride, but indicated that my time off would be much more enjoyable if I learned how. Our house is literally a five-minute walk to the center of town, but the center of town has a church, a café, a market, and that's about it. There is always the merry-go-round, but I think the seats max out at like 50 pounds, so that's not a real option.
So, I needed, really this time, to learn to ride. Yesterday, given a few hours to myself, I decided to bite the bullet and rent a bike. At the rental place in town I was greeted by a 20 year-old with a poorly rolled cigarette dangling from his mouth and a rhinestone in one ear. His sidekick had freckles and a mouth that never quite seemed to close. I told the boys that I wanted to rent a bike, mais je suis vraiment débutante/I'm a real beginner.
Boy number one pulled out a maroon bike and said it should fit me, and to take it for a spin to see if it's good. I looked at him and said, mais je ne peux pas! Honnêtement, je suis débutante!/But I can't! Honestly, I'm a beginner!
Understanding finally dawning in his eyes, he told me not to worry, that he has a friend who's 82 and doesn't know how to read or write. Um, thanks? Is this supposed to make me depressed or motivated?
Still refusing to completely believe that I, an adult woman, cannot ride a bike, he told me to just get on and try it out. When I stalled, claiming fear and inability, he just wouldn't take no for an answer. He told me, Si on ose pas, on arrivera jamais/If we never dare to try, we'll never achieve anything. Big words from a small-town boy.
Promising to hold the back of my bike, he handed his damp cigarette to the gaped-mouth boy, and convinced me to climb aboard. After pedaling for a few seconds, I guess he let go, cause suddenly I was turning circles around the parking lot. Alone. On a bike!
I signed a rental contract and rode home. RODE HOME! ON A BIKE! I only ran into one small post, and had to restart twice. When I got back here, I instantly called my mom, who was shocked and told me to go for a ride. So I did.
I found myself on one of the island's many bike paths, although it turns out I probably picked the wrong one for my first day. After sliding down the bank of a small creek, landing in reeds, I turned around and headed for home. Where I ran into one more post and one woman. Both of them were very understanding.
Today, after an evening trip to the beach en famille, I figured I better ride a bit or I would lose my momentum. So I took off, salty and damp, for an evening ride. I passed chickens cooped up behind chain link fence, grandfathers tending gardens with their grandsons, salt marshes, farmland, and beautiful countryside. When my thighs started burning, I turned around and made my way home.
I noticed several improvements today. I'm now able to shift gears without stopping the bike and turning the pedals by hand. When a bike is coming towards me, instead of stopping and waiting by the side of the road, I just keep my eye on where I'm going and everything is okay. I'm able to relax my hands a bit, so they don't cramp quite so much. And I'm actually enjoying it. The feeling of pumping your legs and really letting go on a nice stretch of bike path is fantastic.
I still have a lot to learn, such as the intricacies of gears, and how to slow down without either stopping completely or riding straight into the vegetation, but I'm learning. And I'm sore. Is it normal to have crotchal bruises?
dear self, perhaps pulling weeds would be helpful.
And my vacation high is draining from my body as I realize life is still the same here. Haha.
I wish I could just drift form place to place all my life. I would be happy.
My sister and I drove for about 5 hours to get to OC and we did not kill one another. In fact, we laughed... a lot. And took some really dumb pictures.
Also, at one point she took a picture of my cleavage, right? So she sent it to Justin.
The next day he texted me any asked if he could get one without the shirt. So, I laughed and told him that I save that for in-person sort of moments.
Then I went in the bathroom and let Allison man my phone.
He texted me back and told me I sucked.
So I had her text him the obvious, "I am offering to show you my boobs and you are saying I suck?"
He said, "Do I get boobs and a suck."
This, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never let someone else manage your phone, ok?
She, without waiting for my actual reply, sent him a "Yes." And told me she thinks I need some action. (Which I do.)
However, I explained to her that "a suck" was his referral to a blow job. She thought he wanted to play with my nipples.
Um, yeah. So...
Lesson to all you out there: Do not allow others to operate your cell phone.
Pictures will follow in a following posting.
I'm going to sell all of my stuff.
plane tickets to hawaii in september are fucking RIDICULOUS!!! $750+?!?!?? when i flew into paris/spain it cost under $500!!!!!!
damn inflated fuel prices.
Drew and I finished our shopping tonight and decided to stop at the McDonalds in Walmart to have a coffee before heading home. The only table available was a long bench connected by individual tables. We got our coffee and sat down. Drew across from me - me on the bench. Sitting on the bench next to me (at the next table) was an older woman...probably in her 70's. A well-groomed- looking good for her age -70's...but 70's non-the-less. She is sitting there all alone..when suddenly..this older (70ish) man approached her. He asked if he could sit with her. She politely replied that she was waiting for someone and was obviously not interested in making conversation with him. He smiled and took a seat (on the same bench) at the table next to her. It was quite obvious he was trying to score, and even more obvious as he tried to make conversation with her. But she continued to play hard to get. The conversation went on for a few minutes as he asked if she was from town and blah blah blah. Still this woman seemed disinterested in his advances and spoke very little back to him. Until finally he made a comment about her scarf... Him :"that's a pretty scarf you have on there. It brings out the color in your eyes" Her: a smile. "Thank-you that's nice of you to say" Him: pardon? Her: "I said, thank-you that's nice of you to say" Him:"Your Welcome"..(as he slides over on the bench and is now sitting next to her at the same table) Him: "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, I forgot my hearing aid, so I'll have to sit next to you" Her: "OH...ok" (extends hand)" Hi..my name is Mary" Drew: (whispers)..."Damn...70 years old and still got it."
