“There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours.” – JeanPaul Sartre

Serendipity.   It could be the word that describes the theme of my life.

It’s Tuesday afternoon and I have a cup of tea at my right, the sound of the wind and a view of parisian rooftops out the window.  I’ve moved in with my friend Amel for the rest of my time here.  I honestly thought I would be going home about now, but I am grateful beyond words that my time here is yet over thanks to the kindness and hospitality of friends.

The last 5 days have been..  busy, emotional and rainy.

Thursday night was Paris lit up and one girl wrote a piece that moved me in a way I could not shake for days.  Friday was a meet up at a bar, which was entertaining, but over all not the sort of scene I prefer in attempts to meet good people. (I did get a date out of it for next Thursday though!)

Saturday was errand running, photo shoots with the guys for their CV’s and a lovely walk through the Marais with Amel that ended with an apero at Merci cafe.  The night wasn’t over yet though. Wine and cheese and Bretsy’s with a few familiar and new faces.  For some reason the topics were hot that evening and I think at one point or another someone was offended.  At the last moment I realized the time and booked it to the Metro.  Last minute decisions turned out to not be in my favor and my best intention of catching my connecting train was missed and so I walked home at 2:30am through Paris.  Luckily the weather was mild and there was no rain.  I needed the walk to help blow of the steam of my boiling emotions I felt and so it all worked out best in the end.

Sunday was a literary workshop on James Joyce which I surprisingly enjoyed.  Afterwards I walked the Marais with friends. Falafal, eclairs and cappuccinos.  Conversations, non conversations and just enjoying the company of someone without words.

A lot of conversation about what is is to be alone, lonely, single, independent, self reliant.  The satisfaction of those things and also the disappointment of expectations with ourselves and also others.

For sure I feel those things, sometimes stronger in one moment versus the next.  I know if I wanted a simple life, with a home and a man I could “settle” and have it right away.  But I know that I want more than that.  I desire to create, to explore the world and myself and really push myself until I maybe cannot take anymore.  So for now, I will keep going.  Embracing the alone, the single and the loneliness…  the adventure of those things.   Some of my favorite, funniest or most amazing stories have come from being in these moments…. So give me more, life. Give me more.

Tonight I listened to poets, writers and musicians wear their heart on their sleeve at a divey bar in Paris’s Chinatown.

A british girl told a story about the world ending.  I cried.

An american sang like Adel and my heart became enraptured.

Today an Australian made me a fucking amazing cappuccino while singing Sugar ray.

Last night a french man tried to get me to go to bed with him after I photographed him smoking a cigarette.

Next weekend I rendezvous with a spanish guy in Lisbon.

Today I photographed pink and gold on rain streaked cobblestone. A woman with an umbrella.  A man stopped and smiled waiting for me to take his portrait.

I finally found the metro station. Line 8. I was soaked.  It was rush hour. It was a can of sardines.

Juedi.

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.  It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” Mary Oliver

Today I am blue even though I wore red.

I decided to be proactive as guilt of non activity is seeping in.

Despite the dreary weather I bundled and set out.  Nothing struck me as overly inspirational today.  I did discover new areas and forced myself in direction that I have not hoofed before.

I happened upon a photography book store.  My dear heaven..  I stopped and turn towards the door once I saw Sarah Moons book in the window.  I know I could spend days upon days there.  And so I will return.  I looked over a few until one caught my eye.  Upon flipping through the pages  and reading the very last, it was then I knew I had to own it.  It wasn’t until I got it home that I really looked at it and realized it was my own story told through someone else eyes.   Seeing it I knew I too must create something of the same.  If not for myself maybe for a select few.  It must be done.  Photography like this always hits me so hard.  As If my life was somehow incomplete and in that moment I am now whole. Because I cannot hold onto the vision permanently I am instantly left hungry for more in a way that can never be fully satisfied. The feeling is so electric that the resonating shock that I am left with has now fueled me to create the same.  It gives me both hope and death in the same single blow.

I choose hope.

I can say quite assuredly that travel has saved my life.

Not that at any point I was suicidal. this was never the case.

But more so it affected the vision and attitude in which I move forward as well as defined the person I have chosen to be.

Porque te tengo y no
porque te pienso
porque la noche está de ojos abiertos
porque la noche pasa y digo amor
porque has venido a recoger tu imagen
y eres mejor que todas tus imágenes
porque eres linda desde el pie hasta el alma
porque eres buena desde el alma a mí
porque te escondes dulce en el orgullo
pequeña y dulce
corazón coraza

porque eres mía
porque no eres mía
porque te miro y muero
y peor que muero
si no te miro amor
si no te miro

porque tú siempre existes dondequiera
pero existes mejor donde te quiero
porque tu boca es sangre
y tienes frío
tengo que amarte amor
tengo que amarte
aunque esta herida duela como dos
aunque te busque y no te encuentre
y aunque
la noche pase y yo te tenga
y no.

It’s Tuesday afternoon and again I have slept too long. After finally peeling myself out of bed and showering I made my way to Tuck shop by way of Canal St. martin for a change of scenery and to pound out more work on my laptop.

As always I arrive to the door to see the windows fogged up promising the moist warmth within.
It was after the lunch rush so I knew the place would be calm and I chose a spot at the end of the long table shared by 4 other ladies – turns out they are speaking Spanish with each other. (I think they are from Portugal as I heart the names Lisboa and Porto referenced a few times. Maybe that is just wishful thinking since I just purchased my flight there for next weekend.)

I order my cappuccino and settle in. The name of the place alone lends to the atmosphere. Cozy, simple and understated.

As I start to sip my coffee I finish off my post cards and then pull out my notebook. The door opens, the bell rings and an older lady comes with a white poodle at her feet.

The couple in the corner to my right are arguing. I can tell now that they are not actually a couple. She is a model (Paris fashion week is currently here) and he is her manager. Something about miscommunication and a missed show. Yikes.

The lady in with the poodle goes outside for a call and the poodle stays by the owners chair watching intently.
It makes me miss my Judee and I find myself wanting to photograph this dog.

I resist and pull out my book aka phone. Upon reading the first paragraph I find I’m rapt with anxiety.
“Committed” – by Elizabeth Gilbert
It’s her follow up to Eat Pray Love which is on my top 5 favorite books. ( funny enough I read it way before the ending of my own marriage and following travels.)
It is her thoughts and research on marriage as well as the story of how she is marrying again almost against her will. Should prove to be interesting! That is, if I can get past the unexpected wave of emotion I feel as I read about her own divorce process.

Well, it looks like the power went out at the cafe and they are closing for the day.

More later!

This is my first friday night in a while where I didnt have anything scheduled for the evenings entertainment.  I had comfortable resigned to the idea of staying home for the evening.    That was until, both my flatmates made comments like.. “really? its friday night! you arent going out?” They say this as they are walking out to go on their dates leaving me alone. Ugh.

So I found a club that was just around the corner.  The event’s website promised a live band for the evening and so it was set.  I grabbed a few drinks before leaving to save on the pocket book and set out. To go dancing solo at a club on a friday night.

I ordered a coupe du champagne when I arrived and even though I waited until midnight to go out, it seems as though I was still too early as the dance floor was almost bare.  I was in on the side of the room enjoying my drink, listening to the music and waiting for the alcohal to kick in so I could blissfully dance alone.  At some point two guys in their early 20’s walk up and say something.. I of course respond with I’m sorry, do you speak english and one goes and grabs this girl who I guess does.  They ask me if I’m alone, do I want to dance with them and then laughingly try and guess my age.  One guessed 16 the other 24.  Glory.

After a few minutes of awkward dancing we part ways and I go find myself another drink.  The band is now playing and there are people arriving by the second.  I find myself a comfy little spot to groove and stay there for awhile…  maybe an hour later one of the guys pops up near me.  I acknowledge him with a nod and keep dancing.  Then out of nowhere my head is yanked back and someone is hitting me.  I spin around clutching my head and the girl from earlier is taking another swing.  She’s yelling in french and trying to push me and says something about her boyfriend.  The guy that was next to me grabs her and drags her away.  I’m so stunned as to what just happened I dont really know what to do.  Everyone around us that saw it is stunned to and looking at me like I’m the guilty one. I decide to blow it off and return to dancing and then I see her coming for me again.  She shoves me and is yelling and takes  a swing.  I grab her wrist and tell her she needs to calm down and go back to her boyfriend. she goes to hit me with her other arm and I swing her around and grab her other wrist.  She is pissed and so am I.  Stupid drunk wench.  I’m done with this.  I march her over to the security who finally decided to show up and push her towards him.  I know he can’t understand me so I just throw my hands up and point to her and point to the door.  He is well ahead of me in that he is already taking her towards the door.

ugh.

I know I didn’t do anything but I couldnt help but think I had done something wrong.  My scalp was still throbbing and I decided to sit down and breathe.  I combed my hands through my hair and took out chunks of hair. That is when I started to cry.

I texted the girls and they immediately made me feel like a bad ass and it helped me to see the humor in the moment.

After allowing myself to collect I started to look around the room and the club was now packed.    The people in the booth behind me catch my eye and wave over to me.  One comes over and asks me if im alone and if I want to join them.  I gratefully accept since I know I need to move on and attempt to make the most out of the evening.
We share our names and some shots and the next band is now playing.  We head to the dance floor and enjoy the rest of the set before I head home.

Oh Paris.

“What? You are staying here tonight?”

Well what am I supposed to do? All my friends are busy and or not living here anymore.
Ugh.

It’s Friday night. Of course I want to go out. But without a wing woman it just looks sad, desperate or both.
Ugh.

Fuck that.
I want to dance. I want to have a drink and enjoy my Friday night.

I asked my roomie if they know of a place nearby for dancing..
“You are going out by yourself?!”
Ugh.
I reply with a confident of course attitude.

“Well if you aren’t coming home tonight let me know.”

%€€£#$!!

This you can always count on: it will rain in Paris.

Time to ramble.

Angie left yesterday and for the first time in three weeks I do not have to move.  No complaints really. The last 3 weeks have been a whirlwind of adventure, crazy stories, cool people and a ridiculous amount of walking.  I managed to do 2 weeks with the same two outfits, one pair of shoes and camera and one lens. It felt GREAT to pack so light. By the end of two weeks though I loathed my clothing and shoes.  I also decided I owned too many beauty products. Noted.

I need to update here with my handwritten journal entries. Later this week.

This I love about Paris: the language, the way of life, the food, the wine, the sweet people I have met and made friends with.  Things I hate about Paris: the attitude of :some: of the people, their weird eating hours, how expensive everything is, and how everything seems have this “beaujious” “I am something” attitude.

I suppose that attitude is everywhere. Perhaps i feel threatened by that since everyone is overly educated here and that is sensitive area for me.

Maybe I should look into school programs here for my bachelors and just take out student loans.  Something to think about.

Today I have resolved to make things work.  I will work hard.  I will be a hustler and make my dream a reality.  I must push myself harder. HARDER.  I will try to live the rest of this week on 30 euros so that I can stay longer in this city and network the shit out of it.  Challenge excepted.

—–

Yesterday I pretty much slept all day.  After having walked 100+ miles in the last 3 weeks my body said “NOMORE”.  I gladly obliged.  I had moved into my new place for the next week.  Cozy and feels like home.  Always like home here.

Had appero with Bretsy and Fralix.  We shared a le gallete for January and of course wine and champagne.  I love these sweet people.

The evening ended with Rapha and Eloi with nothing less than beers and taking turns at playing dj.  They invited me to contribute to their photo wall.  Yes.  I have officially made it as one of the group.  I told them I should be on the waiting list if one of their rooms vacate.  They laughed and agreed.