Music & Lyrics

I just typed a whole entry about my music and how I have no idea what it is I am listening to. But I did not like it so I deleted it. This information is, of course, crucial to your very being.

Watch some Smosh instead; it's a much better use of your time than reading the entry I deleted, trust me!

Packing

I hate it.

So far I have my suitcase 3/4 of the way full, and I think I'm spent. Part of my mental packing block comes from the fact that I know I need to lug whatever I pack onto the train, to Montpellier, up a hill and 3 flights of stairs, down the stairs, onto a tram, on a bus, to the ticket counter, through the airport, on another train, on the subway, and down a few blocks to my friend's 1st floor (thank GOD) apartment. Not to mention leaving New York City!

Thinking in terms of poundage and hauling distance has made me evaluate the value of many of my belongings: I don't ever really read that cultural literacy dictionary. I never used that $40 converter, not once, all year long - and the ONE TIME I did, it fried the hairdryer. I don't think I ever truly liked those heels, anyway. And that huge beach blanket fabric? I mean, it served its purpose as a toga, so do I really need to hang on to it?

Plus my sister wants me to bring a few of her things home for her. While I really don't mind, I actually do. I mean, I really wouldn't mind at all except for the fact that my suitcase is already quite cumbersome; I really want it to be as light as possible.

But because I am an amazing sister, I'll probably let Sarah stuff my case chock-a-block full. Ugh. If you're reading this, Sarah, please consider only giving me things you really can't fit into your own luggage at the end of the year. Please. My back is begging you.

PS - Spell check works in Mozilla (along with a whole bunch of other nifty features I never realized were here). I think I've got to abandon Safari.

Spell Checking

One other thing... I have a little icon for spell checking on my blog, but when I click it it never works! It really irks me because, well, I realize this is not the most eloquent, intersting blog ever, but I'd sure like to know it's not littered with typos and spelling errors.

I might need to try it in Mozilla, the browser which I am slowly finding more and more enjoyable (while slower than Safari, it's definitely more functional).

Chicago: Will NOT Consider

I hate driving around NH in the summer time. I am not sure if it is a universal trait of NH drivers or what, but they always drive with their windows down and I can't stand it!

Sure, maybe it's fine for boys with short hair, or girls with no bangs, or those who choose to slick back their hair, or those who actually enjoy eating their hair. But somehow, no matter how I tie my hair back, slick it, pin it, stick it, or twist it, my hair always flies around and lands in my eyes, up my nose, in my mouth. I don't enjoy hair as a dietary supplement, and therefore let me state for the record that I HATE THE WIND!

Therefore, living in Perpignan has been somewhat of a challenge for me this year. For those of you who did not know, Perpignan must be the Chicago of France; it's got "windy city" practically engraved on the road signs... ok, well maybe it's "windy crap town" depending on where you are. The point is, it's super windy here and apparently the worst is in April (which is why I am thankful that I will be out of the country for half of the month).

Hannah and Amanda and I were discussing how we can tolerate any other element: rain, snow, sun, hail, sleet, cats and dogs, you name it, but wind is now our prime enemy. Is there a place in the US known as "the windless city," and where can I get me some prime real estate?

I was filling an online application out the other day with a placement agency. They tell you to be flexible and consider many possible jobs in a variety of positions and locations. I was doing very well on being flexible: I'd consider teaching almost any age group, I'd be involved in an extra curriculars, and I would travel almost anywhere in the world for the right job.

Except Chicago. After Perpignan, Chicago just might kill me (or, you know, blow me away).

Good Neighbor / Bad Neighbor

Tonight after dinner Hannah, Amanda and I made a list of the reasons why we are good neighbors and why our neighbors are mostly bad neighbors. On a scale from negative infinity to positive ad infinitum, we scored 97, while our neighbors scored -73. Here's an itemized list of our scores:

US:
+54: Taking out the trash (2x a week, 4.5 weeks every month, 6 months we've been here)
+3: We went to their party and were super-awesome guests
+5: We invited them to dinner
+7: We invited them to Thanksgiving
+1: We did not beat their door down when they cancelled on us the day of Thanksgiving
+10: We made them an awesome Christmas cookie platter
+2: The cookie platter came complete with homemade Christmas card
+5: We invited them to our parties...
+5: ... twice
+5: They're in general cold and we put up with it
-0: Sorry, we're obviously the perfect neighbors

THEM:
-54: They leave their trash for us to take out (2x a week, 4.5 weeks a month, for all 6 months we've been here)
-3: One time they left 5 or 6 trash bags out even though they knew we were gone for vacation and birds got into it and strew the trash EVERYWHERE in our driveway and they did not pick it up. They are lucky we only took off 3 for this, because we are still stewing about it.
+5: They invited us to their first party
-5: They did not come to our parties...
-5: ... twice
-7: They cancelled on us at Thanksgiving by shoving a note under our door the day of
+1: They said thank you for the Christmas cookies
-3: They cleaned their house/made out with their boyfriend/ignored us after they invited us in to chat and try our cookies
-2: Hannah really wanted to withhold their cookies entirely but we didn't, and she still harbors some additional ill-will as a result
+5: They set up the outside grill
-1: They play really loud music sometimes late at night
-2: They host open laundry season in our garage and let their entire university use the facilities Friday straight through to Sunday
-2: They bang on Hannah's wall when she talks to us from her bedroom past 10 pm

There you have it.

Thank God For Facebook!

These days I've realized that, among other things, I've been having trouble remembering my age.

This forgetfulness is fleeting, but still disturbing. I find myself walking down the street and wondering, "How old am I again?" Inevitably I remember within a few seconds... well, in less than a minute... but the fact that I forgot my age makes me wonder if I'm really 90 and I just can't remember? (This might not be the worst scenario... for a 22 year-old my body is fine, but for a 90 year old it would be kick ass!!)

Well, I then realized that Facebook tells you how old your friends will be on their birthdays. (This will probably be a major point of concern when we enter the era of mid-life crises: "Why does Facebook have to share with the WORLD that I'm really 52?") As it turns out, Facebook also tells you your own age as well. It would appear that I will be turning 23 this year, in case there was any doubt in my head.

Now if only when I turn 87 I can remember my login for Facebook (let alone type with my arthritic hands and see with my bad eyesight and the aid of my super styling monocle), everything will be just fine.

Hauling My Junk Home

Well, this time next week I will be in the US! That's a hard thing to wrap my head around since I have not been there for over 6 months. I'm looking forward to going home, but I am not looking forward to packing my ginormous suitcase and bringing all my stuff back over the ocean. Boo.

Anyhow, the story is I have a job interview in NYC and so I needed to go to the US. I thought, rather than waste the air ticket on just an interview, I might as well stay for a while. So I am going to be staying for 2 and a half weeks... and I'm skipping 3 days of school. Does that make me a bad assistant? I don't really think so. I have not missed a single day until now, and in those three days I'll only miss 3 classes. Plus I can't get a job for next year if I don't ever go on interviews, now, can I?

While I'm in New York for this interview I think I am going to follow up on a few other things I applied for as well... I think Apple thinks I am a foreigner and am not eligible to work in the US. That's the only explanation I can think of as to why the position is still open on their website and they have not even contacted me to say they recieved my application. I applied for a SALES position in their store... you know, people who ring you up and ask you if you need help finding something? Call me crazy but I am 99.7% sure that I would ROCK at that job.

Pictures (Toga Party)

Toga Party

Hannah and I had a toga party yesterday. It was a lot of fun which is a pretty high assessment on my part considering neither Hannah nor myself were feeling up to having a party, but it turned out to be fun, not too long, and not too messy. Everyone who came wore a toga, and (surprisingly) we met no resistance when we told those people who were not wearing togas that they had to make some out of trash bags!

My favorite thing that happened was we had left our kazoos lying around the house and people picked them up and started playing them. Let me tell you, I am never going to throw a party without kazoos again... they are the best! Here's a video of one of our friends (Darlene) getting her kazoo on:


Introducing Darlene, Kazooing Genius on Vimeo

iRack

The Future of Vending Machines (etc.)

So today I was aimlessly wandering the hallways at my school when I came across the back staircase. I decided, "Hey, why not go down the back staircase for a change?" So I did, and at the bottom I saw an amazing piece of technology: a vending machine.

That's right, a vending machine. But it wasn't just any old vending machine. Instead of having junk food and soda inside, it had highlighters, pencils, erasers, index cards, and extra ink for your fountain pen in an array of colors.

I stopped dead in my tracks and thought, "Holy cow! I'm in a school. And they are vending school supplies. In a vending machine. Holy cow!" It truly boggled my mind.

Second, the weather today has been magnificent. It was tanktop and shorts weather, and the breeze was glorious; not so little that you couldn't feel a thing and fried in the sun as a consequence, but not too much that you were caught swearing under your breath and cursing the tramontagne.

Third, I spent about an hour and a half today outside in the lovely weather at a phone booth calling my credit card company. It appears that pay.com somehow got a hold of my number and has been making fraudulent charges left and right. Normally, I would say, "What's $150 in additional charges?" But as 1) I am not made of money and 2) as far as I know the stuff doesn't grow on trees, I found these charges to be bothersome. My account is now cancelled, I get to sign an affidavit upon my return to the US of A and the company is going to be nice enough to send my new card right here to Perpignan. The only question that's left to be begged (is that the right expression?) is how did pay.com (slash whoever) get my account information? I've only used the card 4 times in the past 5 months, and only once online with BMI... sketch.

Last, I've spent a really pleasant afternoon watching videos by some punk kids who call themselves SMOSH. They are really funny, and I think you should watch some of their stuff, too. Here's something to get you started:

"Try A Yelling, It's Worth Being A Little Tiger"

I gave my kids a dictée as punishment a few weeks back and in grading them I have unearthed the most creative phonetic sentences ever known to man. Here are a few choice examples:

1. I role a round on thumble daggers (I rode around on Double Deckers).
2. What can I save ta ta ta (What can I say...).
3. I'm pretty and hausted come on but try a yelling it's worth be in a little tiger (I'm pretty exhausted, but traveling is worth being a little tired).
4. At list I fast it was cup (At least I thought it was her).
5. The neighbor's cars were parking (The neighbor's dogs were barking).
6. In Paris, I rule on the metro (In Paris I rode on the metro).

I'm actually really pleased. Sure, some of the sentences are very wrong, but at least they tried to write down what they were hearing, and that makes me very happy. Sometimes it really is all about the effort.

Random Photos

Busted

Do you ever see someone doing something sort of fun and you can't decide if you want to take that picture and risk being found out or not take the picture and be safe from fleeting embarassment? Yes. Well. I decided I was going to be as sly and discreet as possible and take this picture of the kite flyer on the beach at Canet Sud. I thought I was doing really well about keeping my operations covert. The sun was really bright in my eyes when I took the picture and I was not sure I got the kite in the photo, so when I got home I looked at the photo to see if I had indeed captured the kite or not. Well, not only did I get the kite, but I also got the guy, staring straight at me taking the picture. I'm soooo cool.

Dear Amanda (My Apology)

I'm sorry I told you that you need not wear a coat on your excursion to town. I'm sorry that I convinced you that it was indeed a sunny, practically windless, beautiful day in Perpignan.

How was I to know that not a half hour after your departure the sky would go completely black, the wind would turn vicious and it would threaten rain?

How could I have known that the wind would be so strong that the refrigerator box would be blown 4 feet up the telephone pole, crushed and held there for the next 20 minutes because of the wind? How was I to know that it would be so windy that Hannah would briefly second guess her decision to actually attend class this afternoon?

I'm really sorry. I hope you have not blown to Andorra by now. I hope you'll be able to make it home in time for dinner, despite the small rocks, sand and grit that are no doubt pelting you right this very instant. I hope you don't suffer from hypothermia and an extreme case of windswept hair.

Good luck on your journey home via the bike path, and again please accept my sincerest apologies.

Meghan

I'm From America, Eh?

My walk back from school today provided me with nothing terribly interesting to contemplate. Therefore I was particularly (overly) entertained when I saw a metal folding chair on a billboard advertisement labeled as "la chaise 'America'" (which is, I know, improper French... I think 'America' is supposed to be the style).

Because that style of chair is so what we Americans have in our houses.

Anyhow, it led me to think about a conversation I had with my roommates a while back about exactly who should be considered an American.

Apparently some people believe that anyone from any part of the Americas is an American. Brazilians, Mexicans, Canadians, USAmericans. That's right, all these people have the privilege of calling themselves Americans. I can't really say I whole heartedly disagree... I mean, all these places are in the Americas, so who are we to say that they can't identify themselves as being American, or from the Americas?

One of my roommates has a friend who hates it when people automatically assume that Americans are from the US. She happens to be Canadian, and takes offense when people use the word "American" to mean from the US exclusively.

I'm sorry, but I have never, EVER, said that I was an American only to have been asked, "Oh, really? What part? British Columbia? Argentina? Texas?" Hello, that doesn't happen.

The whole "Anti-American" sentiment is not targeted at Canadians as well people from the US. I'm pretty sure that people who are "Anti-American" pretty much just hate Bush and some of the ideals in the United States. What has Canada ever done to piss off anybody?

Plus, if being American did not refer to living in the US only, then why does the word "Canadian" exist? Wouldn't Canadians just be Americans, too? The same goes for Mexicans, Brazilians, etc. etc. What's the "Canadian" equivalent for someone who lives in the US? A "United Statian?" A "US citizen?" Ding ding ding! That's right, it's an "American."

Just to drive my point home, here in school I was asked if I was English or American, meaning from Britain or the US. Teachers would introduce me as the American from New Hampshire, not the American from the US, for it goes without saying that if you are an American you are assumed to be from the US. So there.

Let's review: if you are from one of the Americas, feel free to call yourself American, but don't be enraged when people equate the title of "American" with being from the US.

Johnny the Bus Driver

Yesterday when I was riding the bus home from school I was the only soul on the bus. From LeClerc (the grocery store I got on at) people NEVER get on the bus when going towards Pascot (my house), they only ever get off. So when all five other people got off one stop from where I got on, I knew it was going to be a peaceful journey to my stop.

That was, of course, until the bus driver started yelling something to me. It turns out he wanted to know where I was getting off. Hannah sometimes tells me horror stories of how buses run late and they make her ride all the way to Pascot, then back to Fauvelle because they can't be bothered to stop at Fauvelle the first time they pass. This bus, however, was early so I had no idea why he was asking me where I got off.

Next he asked if the traffic was always this busy at 4 in the afternoon, and I said I supposed it was, but I wasn't sure. I couldn't really understand what he was saying (which was the fault of one part bus/traffic noise, one part my inability to understand french, and four parts his DEEP SOUTHERN ACCENT), so he waved for me to walk to the front of the bus and he chatted to me all the way back to my bus stop.

I now know that he had to learn some English for when he spent his summer in China but has since forgotten all of it and now only speaks French and not a word of anything else. This he found to be particularly ironic, since he has an English name ("Johnny"). He then proceeded to ask me what my name was, and then told me all about the "Mégane" cars here (of which I'd already been informed about by the Spanish teacher at my lycée).

It's so strange, the bus drivers here are chatty chatty.

Album Artwork

Dear Musical Recording Artists,

If you are talented and create music that I like, congratulations! I will buy your music.

If you are talentless, tone deaf and lack rythm, I might still buy (probably/most definitely will still buy) one or two of your songs if you have amazing album artwork.

Sincerely,
Meghan

I've recently realized that I have been persuaded to buy songs I did not really like based on the album artwork. When listening to one of my most recent purchases, I heard the song and thought, "What was I thinking?" A few seconds later I expanded iTunes and was in love again... oooh, pretty album cover.

I think this method for music purchase is really pathetic, and I'm currently purchasing music blindfolded and seeing a therapist to work on these issues (not to mention the injections). In case you are suffering from the same "oooh pretty" syndrome, I'm going to put a safe list of artists who not only have nice artwork but also have honed a decent-to-great sound.

• Grace Kelly - Mika
• You Owe Me An IOU - Hot Hot Heat
• Knew It All - Needtobreathe
• No Tomorrow - Orson
• The Season - Quietdrive

Freaks of Nature

So it would appear that caterpillars all over my yard have congregated and come together to do the conga?


Caterpillar Conga on Vimeo

From what I can surmise, this is either some migratory pattern something or other, or they are doing their ritual death lineup. We find whole lines of them in the yard, exploded/oozing, but certainly not squished (as if run over by a car or something). I can only conclude that those who don't survive the line migration... spontaneously ooze? Very interesting.

The lineup in the video was the longest we've seen yet at 42 caterpillars.

Let's Beat The Dead Horse, Shall We?

Sorry, I'm bent on this subject, so just to give an example of one of the better songs Hanson has written and not released, here is a little MP3 player doodad. This song ("Every Word I Say") is a top-notch Hanson song, and yet it is impossible to find (well, clearly not impossible, but relatively speaking). Why don't they put the good ones on their records? Enjoy.

**I used to have the MP3 doodad right here, but I thought it would be fun to put music here all the time, so I put it under the bio section and above the links section of this blog. Currently (early March) I only have the one song I wrote about in this entry, but I will maybe add some others soon. Or I might move the MP3 doodad or get rid of it. We will see.

Get Off Your Knees

"Bow down to Hanson. They'll be here a lot longer than most."

-- Rob Thomas

I am not sure if that is an actual quote, but I suppose it doesn't really matter.

So for those of you who don't track the lives of the Hanson brothers with baited breath, let me inform you that they have a new CD coming out in May (I believe). When I first heard about this (via my sister, who has taken over my family role of slightly-obsessed Hanson stalker) I admit I was pretty excited. Hanson is to me like my favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry's; I might not eat it for a very long time, but every once in a while I just have to have my flavor. And I eat the whole pint. And then I have to go buy more. And then I gain ten pounds. And I have to completely ban it from my life for a while until sanity returns. No matter how much I try to cut the ice cream out of my diet once and for all, I need to have it; it just tastes so damn good sometimes. Moving on.

I have heard two of the songs on the new record and read one review of the album (which is already out in Japan). One of the songs is decent, the other just plain dull and... well, shitty. The review was not bad, but it did say that most of the tracks lacked energy and were boring (wait, maybe it was a bad review).

This does not give me, even the most loyal of fans, much hope.

The thing I've come to realize is that when Hanson was working on their album Underneath they wrote literally hundreds of songs that never made the record. And while shamefully watching a documentary on the making of their record, I've come to realize that their most amazing songs were left off the record. A lot of their song decisions had to do with their record company veto-ing just about everything they wrote, so I had high hopes that they would come out with an amazing record this time around, especially since they are no longer sharing/losing creative control of their record.

Unfortunately it seems the opposite has happened and their music has gone from inspired to... well, uninspired. Without the push to please their label, they've lost all incentive to write good music. Or at least that is what I can tell from what I've heard from the two songs on their new record and that one review.

Going back to the quote at the beginning, I agree and disagree... Hanson will be around for a long time. They have drive, that's undeniable. However, I'm not sure their staying power will be a good thing. If this next record doesn't shine, I certainly won't be bowing down to anyone.

Now, this new brand of Hanson music might be like a new ice cream flavor that actually is my favorite only I had never tried it because it wasn't available... until now. Hmm. Right now I feel more like eating cake than ice cream. Sorry, guys.

(PS - I've also heard that Zac has taken over most of the lead vocals. This is, in my opinion, a very bad move for as we all know there's only one singer in the world worse at singing than Isaac, and that would have to be Zac. Might I point out the train wreck that was his last attempt at leads? Yikes. His voice just wasn't the same after puberty.)

You know you don't have a lot of money when...

... after three entire months your bank account has only accumulated 18 cents in interest.

I suppose the bright side to this is that it's 18 euro cents so that's like, what, a whopping 26 US cents? Yee. Haw.

I Dub Thee Pecker

How is a penis related to a pigeon? Let me share with you my revelation I had on the bus today.

I was looking out the window and I saw a pigeon wandering around, jabbing its head here and there. I thought to myself, by golly, that pigeon has a longer neck than I realized! It almost leads with its head as it walks, too... it bobs the head back and forth as it waddles along.

Then I got to thinking about what parts of their bodies different people lead with. Pigeons lead with their head, Patrick Swayze leads with his pelvis. Watch Dirty Dancing if you don't believe me - it's basically a proven fact.

Anywho, then I got to thinking about why penises ("penii"?) were sometimes called peckers and then I thought about how pigeons lead with their head, which has a beak, which they peck with. Pigeons lead with their peckers, Swayze (and men in general) lead with their pecker equivalent, the penis. Hence the penis is dubbed "the pecker."

Pure genius.

Cooking Tip 002: Couscous

What's the best way to stretch a meal? Couscous.

Only a half-bowl of soup left? Fill in the space with couscous.

Need to flesh out your stir-fry? Put it on top of couscous.

Only have half a can of fruit left? Mix it up with milk and couscous.

Couscous is a mysterious and often underestimated grain. Fear it. Embrace it. Don't forget to eat it.

Cute Bunny Wabbits

Today I saw the cutest bunny rabbit in our driveway. Apparently Amanda has been telling us about this rabbit for a while now, but we either a) forgot or b) blatantly ignored her. Either way, today Rachel and I saw this bunny in person and as I said, twice, it was really cute. It was sort of hopping/moping around, nibbling on things, it's eyes closed... actually, it might have been blind... and it let us get really close (rabies, maybe?) which was awesome for pictures. Anyhow.

Beaujolais wine is really good, FYI.