This blog is not to chronical my time in France piece by piece. It is much moreso to note whatever (n'importe quoi), whenever, and however. I have a lot of time on my hands, and Besançon is all about time. They have a clock here that apparently tells the time in 82098203957 diffrenet parts of the world, in many different ways (i.e. by the tides and by the moon!), and with many intricate/complicated dials, switches, and twitches. It does all of this astronomically! It'd probably give Dali a heartattack upside down on pogo stick, but he'd survive (naturally). And then he'd contort and melt this masterpiece into oblivion in a glorious painting that they would sell in Besancon on screen-printed t-shirts. Tourists would buy them. I'd probably buy one. (Would that make me a tourist? Am I a tourist?). I doubt Dali ever made it to Besancon, which is an unfortunate thing.
Anyway, I haven't seen the Besançon clock yet. I'll be here for 9 months (although now it's more like 8; the weeks seem to be moving with the minute hand), so I'm not worried about not getting to see it. I'll certainly the find the time. Unless it finds me. What if it does find me? What will it catch me doing? Typing on a blog (so painfully modern-day, eyes dry, legs crossed, and a pretty pixel-perfect screen waiting for me. letter by letter. at 2h25 here, 7:25pm home, and awake everywhere else). Otherwise, time might catch me watching it, frustratingly, waiting for the next browser to load or the next French person to answer my next question. There's a lot of waiting that goes on in this country. Waiting for buses. In banks. At consulates. In grocery lines. In kitchens. In pages. I've been getting stuck in pages a lot. Somehow I still have to look up a lot of words in French...but that's not really a matter of waiting as much as it is progressing. I've been frustrated lately at this minor little conundrum: I still cannot understand French. Mostly it's when French people blabber together quickly. If you know me, you know that I have a hard enough time keeping up with conversations in English, so you can imagine the difficulty that arises in French. I realize, though, that this is not something I can wait out (just like life in general, of course). It is something I have to wait on, while working on it. It'll come in time, maybe. Maybe not. (Because, I mean, what else would it come in? installments?) I realized after enough boringly amplified sighs and imaginary pouts in my little tête, that I've gotta bite the bullet, ride the horse, and take life by the reins. With effort. (Yes, those were three cliche phrases put together in a corny way to get across an obvious point concerning the way we live). Speaking of the way we live, I read a lot today about how the world we live in influences the way we see the world, the way we think, the way we act: the way we live, essentially. How our society shapes who we are, whether or not we like it. I've been reading on how inarguably ignorant it is to not face the things you hate, fear, or loathe. It's way to late in the night for me to get into this now. But briefly, all I want to say is that it's important to know the importance of understanding ourselves in terms of our surroundings, because as Jiddu said, "nous sommes le monde" ("we are the world"). Who is Jiddu? Here is a story of how I found out about him:
The kindest Frenchman began a conversation with me this morning (while I was waiting on getting some questions answered, of course) about how the journals and newspapers cannot, are not capable of, telling the truth. He pointed out how one article in Liberation factually contradicted an article on the page right next to it, and how La Monde said something completely different. For some reason, he went on to talk about Linux and free business enterprising and all sorts of things you wouldn't expect an elderly Frenchman to be passionate about. But he was. I barely said anything because (as I described earlier), I'd been feeling down on my French. He didn't care. In fact, he wanted to share his passion with me so badly and he actually went home and returned 15 minutes later with a packetfull of essays discussing Linux for me to read. As an added bonus he gave me Jiddu Krishnamurti's Vivre dans un monde en crise ("Facing a World in Crisis," in English). He kindly gave me these two reading materials and his address and told me to return them whenever I wanted! He said he lived just down the street so it was no problem. And also, if I ever want to just talk or practice French to contact him and he'd be obliged. What trust, to give me these things! What freedom! What...what...thankfulness I had for his peaceful and welcoming manner. And I don't even know his name! (That's a French thing, they don't give out names very often. I still don't get it, but whatevs). He is a reminder of why I like Besançon so much. The best part about this place is the people. Hands down.
I'll end with a link to this cool little music video, complements of Lauren introducing me to "pomplamoosemusic"
http://www.youtube.com/user/pomplamoosemusic?blend=1&ob=4#p/u/0/xycnv87N_BU
[compliments to two people for inspiring me to start a blog, even though they don't know it yet: Geena and Jordan. Merci.]
