Chapter 8: Sad Dad Wants Points

Warcraft, Starcraft, Artsncraft post #9

The title of this chapter is taken from the subject line of the latest e-mail from my mother. It is in reference to the following convo:
*ring ring*
EH: Hello?
CH: Did I win the points?!
EH: No... Someone already called me.
CH: Who?
EH: My mane man.
CH: Your mane man in Kingston?
EH: Yes, my mane man in Kingston.

Sad dad wants points.. And so, I would like to announce the following:
1. Mane Man collects 90 points for being the first caller.
2. Raffi receives 45 points for being the second caller.
3. Bronco receives 73 points for being the first to t-bomb.
4. Everyone who wrote down the number wins 5 points.
5. Lia M wins 15 points for being very beautiful, and 15 to Rob M for being handsome.
6. AWray and Whitelow, who are collecting as a pair, both get 70 for Wray's answer as to why the French are so skinny but don't walk anywhere..
7. DP 100 for trying both activities 1 and 3.

That's it for now. The rest of you can tally your own.

Ahem. Now for the post.

There is a wonderful French word that describes well the genre of people living in the slum motel. Les gens perdus. It translates to lost, but we don't really have a word like it to describe people. Lost soul, maybe.. But that's a little too yoga-granola-airy-fairy for me. No offense, Queen's U.

So last night the women who work at the s-motel (who are basically social workers) orgnized a party for all of the residents. I didn't really want to go, but I thought I probably should, so I did. They were cute - blew up balloons and had a ton of delicious food. They had juice and wine and music. There are 53 people who live in the building, and there were probably 35 or so who came. I met most of them and had some convos. It was great for my French. Until that point, my French had been mostly one-on-one, and there's something entirely different when talking in a party atmosphere. More distractions, more people, less formal talking.. It was good. I stayed the full two hours and it left me really exhausted. That's how I know it was good praccy!

Anyways, les perdus. So these are some of the genres of people I met:
1. Just out of rehab/jail, trying to find steady work in a city that doens't really want to hire them.
2. Very young single parent, the kid at the mother's, needing to pay childcare and debts.
3. Uneducated, inarticulate, heavily pierced and tattooed. Not very hireable.
4. Second generation French, family from West Africa. Not feeling quite French or African. Having a hard time finding their feet. Maybe some thuggery. This group is the biggest of the lot, and often includes 1-3 as well..

That's what I mean by "lost" - finding it hard to get their bearings and living here as a sort of ... half-way house. They were all very nice. They wanted to talk about the following things:
1. The one person they know that lives in Quebec, but they don't know where.
2. How cold it is in Canada and the snow.
3. My accent.
4. Rinse and repeat.

There were two serious babes that I talked to. One is in category 2, but was quick to tell me he's separated. I really want to get into a complicated relationship my first week here, full of baby mama drama.

The other is the only one who doesn't fit into any of the categories. A degree in biology, he just got back from working at a zoo in Quebec, and wants to work with animals. He's from a small town, and is living there for the month, looking for stable work. Really nice, seemingly normal.

Sometimes getting a bf in a strange land is dangerous because you don't meet your own friends. So I don't want a bf. But I'd like it if we could be friends.

That was my first party, and I'm glad I went.

Yesterday I met with the co-directors of the department at the university. They were really pumped to meet me, and told me that as well as interviewing for the Teacher's College position, they hired me based on the 4th year English Lit class because they're doing Hamlet and Streetcar, and they want me to teach that course. They also asked if I'd consider directing Streetcar next semester. I said yes. This will be the most hilariously bad production in France. My directoral debut with a bunch of French English majors? Hilar. Can't wait. I live for awkwardness like that.

I also went to the library and took out three German books and one French novel. The German books are so I can teach myself some and then do a second year course next semester, instead of starting from scratch again. One is a grammar book, and the other two are activity books.

I also opened a bank account and somehow wrangled the manager so I'd only pay 0.98Euros per month and have limitless cash take-outs and a Mastercard. Pretty sweet.

I also got my cellie. See previous post.

You know, people often start conversations like this:
"Lying awake in bed last night, I...."
To which I would nod sympathetically as if I know what it's like to lie awake in bed at night. Truth is, it had never happened before. I would run around like a chicken with its head cut off all day, working 14 jobs until 11 at night, and then drinking 14 OJs until 4am, and then sleeping like a log so I could get up at 630am and do it all again. But since getting here, I've been in bed by 930 or 10, and now I, too, can start conversations by saying, "Lying awake ...."

The problem is that I can't remember how the rest of the sentence goes, so I don't know what one is supposed to lie awake thinking about! I don't really know how it's supposed to be different from walking around, riding the rocket, or showering. Am I supposed to think about different things while lying awake in bed at night? I don't know..

Some people know the weird eulogy thing I do, and I'm trying not to do that at night, too, because it happens in the day. So this is the new one that I like to do, which is a eulogy variation:

Pick someone you don't see good qualities in. This could be a fictional character, like Cruella DeVil, a person you don't know, like Hitler, or a real live person in your life that you despise. Then you have to make a speech about this person, but only saying good qualities about them, and they have to be real. An example might be that Cruella is not a glutton, because she's thin. So that's good.

The opposite is to pick someone good and then do the opposite and make a speech about their bad qualities. Reasons they should not be elected.

And so on.

OH! And another good thing happened while lying awake in bed at night.. I have still been thinking entirely in English, which is normal for the first weeks. But last night, I thought, "Tomorrow I will cherche out a place to print photos." A French word embedded in my thoughts. That means it's starting. When I think in French, my English gets worse. It's pretty funny. When my parents picked me up from Quebec three years ago, it took a couple of days before my English sounded normal again, because I was translating in my head and making all sorts of weird mistakes. So watch out now! From now on, my English will be on the decline.

Okay. So here's a joke:
Why do French peeps only eat one egg?
Because one egg is un oeuf.

Rennes has been raining for days... No sun, just rain. It started before I went to sleep and hasn't stopped yet. It's depressing. I'm ready for some sun so I can get my tan on. Pascal made me a delicious orange/pamplemousse bevvie this morning - freshly squeezed. Delish.

I clearly have nothing else to say, even though I don't really want to leave this land and wish I could write about some exciting adventures. But there aren't really any today.

And so, until tomorrow,
Hincks.