Nietzsche for the sake of Nietzsche

Every time I try just writing for the sake of having words, it doesn’t turn out very well. Or maybe it does… because eventually I do get there and something valuable comes from the exercise… but I also manage to bullshit like crazy and I don’t think anyone really benefits from that.
I also use way more ellipses when I’m freewriting. So that’s weird.

So foreals… I’ve been reading more Nietzsche lately, revisiting some of the tidbits I read when I was traveling in France. Brings back good memories. When you’re traveling I think you develop a tendency to want to generalize about people in the world. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism– like, you just want to find any similarities you can in the world so you feel more comfortable and at ease. But that can be really dangerous, in my opinion, because it can close you off to learning about differences in the world and they [beautiful, necessary] ways people vary. If you’re too busy looking for similarities, what is that going to do to your ability to appreciate differences?

When I was abroad I definitely tried to make some broad generalizations about people, for better or for worse. But even at the time, when I was writing those things, I would know on some level that they were hollow observations and one could easily refute anything I was saying. After all, I had only been to the United States and Western Europe, which is but a tiny fraction of the diversity out there. And I was 19. What the hell did I know?

So I compromised by reading people like Nietzsche, who seems to relish making generalizations and grand overtures about human nature. You could expect that from someone who wrote a book called “Human, All Too Human.” Nietzsche filled the void for generalizations about humans, but was also a little over-the-top, so I could read Nietzsche and still keep a conscience about me. That is, I could read what he was writing and think, “aw, well, that can’t be totally true. What about ______?” That seemed more healthy than just buying into all he said about the world and humanity, and more healthy than writing those things myself.

Senioritis

I guess I should mention that I’m keeping a blog this quarter of my progress on my final project for Evergreen: a senior thesis that encompasses my four years of academic learning and experience in the Cooper Point Journal student group. It’s off to a slow start, but the idea is that I’m writing on tons of different topics related to my learning inside and out of the CPJ, and at the end of the quarter I will compile it into a magazine format to share with future members of the CPJ and to include in my transcript.

The idea behind it is really to justify the amount of time I’ve spent at the CPJ– I have been involved with it for four years now, and I feel confident in saying that I have learned at least as much in the CPJ as I have over four years of academic work. And that’s not out-of-the-ordinary for anyone involved in the CPJ.

But it’s difficult to convey that on a transcript. Without explicitly conveying what I have learned at the CPJ, my transcript looks like a seemingly random collection of academic experiences: literature, writing, linguistics, France, France, France, musicology, psychology, journalism, web design… and really what ties all those things together is the CPJ, which isn’t mentioned at all.

By doing this contract and writing about what I’ve learned at the CPJ and how I’ve tied in academics, someone who looks at my transcript can (hopefully) plainly see an organized path of learning and how I’ve grown as a leader and communicator.

I’m pretty excited about this. It makes me feel a lot more confident about my transcript AND it fills the writing void I’ve had in my life for quite some time.

Here’s the blog!

Vous Partez à Paris?

Someone recently emailed me and asked for tips on visiting Paris: What to see, do, eat… etc.

Oh, what’s that you say? you want my expertise on traveling in France? Gee, I mean, I suppose I could…

HELL YES I WILL IMPART MY KNOWLEDGE.

What you see/do/eat in Paris depends largely on how long you will be there, and have you both been there before, and if so, what have you already seen?

Museums: The Louvre is alright, if you’re into that sort of thing… Personally I prefer the Orangerie (for Monet’s work) and the d’Orsay (but it depends on the exhibit). The Centre Pompidou is pretty cool, and they’ll be showing Edvard Munch soon, which I love…

You must go to Sacré Coeur and wander around the neighborhood (it’s known for being really artsy and fun– this is also where Edith Piaf grew up). I maintain that the best gelato in Paris is up there, too. And of course the basilica and the view are breathtaking. Definitely walk up there and back down; don’t take the funicular.

Go to the 5th and 6th arrondissements (the Latin Quarter and Saint Germaine. I lived in Saint Germaine for three weeks and when mom and I went we stayed in the Latin Quarter). Right in between these two districts is the Greek Quarter, which is never on a map and which I have only ever learned to find by accident. But it is totally spectacular, especially for the nightlife. It’s totally worth it, if you do find it: the food is amazing and there are some hookah bars, which can be fun.

Personally I think the view from Sacré Coeur totally trumps the view from the Eiffel Tower, so you could probably skip the tower. But you should endeavor to see it at night, when it’s all lit up and sparkling (I think it sparkles hourly for a few minutes?). Same goes for Notre Dame. It doesn’t sparkle, but it’s amazing at night. And when you’re at the Notre Dame at night, wander along the Seine right by is and see if there is live music down along the bank. Sometimes really good groups play down there and it’s quite the show.

Other music… when you’re wandering by churches (which will happen approximately every 3.2 minutes, if you’re walking at a consistent pace) look for fliers that advertise concerts there the day of. I found some amazing (cheap) classical music concerts on the spur of the moment. Tourists rarely pay attention to them, so they’re attended mostly by locals and the crowd will be small. Just bring a sweater because it gets damn cold in those churches at night when you’re just sitting listening to music.

A lot of people say that going to cemeteries is a good experience, but I never much enjoyed it. I went to Pére Lachaise (if you do go to a cemetery, go to this one) and saw Jim Morrison’s, Edith Piaf’s, and Oscar Wilde’s graves, but the most impactful part was the Holocaust section, because they adorn the graves with incredible, heart-wrenching sculptures.

I’ve always wanted to do the underground tour of the catacombs. If you have time, I’ve heard it’s very cool… if you don’t have time, go to the Panthéon. You can go underground to the crypts there, or go to the top for the view, and the Luxembourg gardens are nearby. Sometimes there are Shakespeare plays in the park.

Don’t miss the footbridge, or Pont des Arts. It’s also called lover’s bridge, because there’s a tradition of putting locks on the chain link that symbolize eternal love and luck in relationships. The view to the tip of the island is sweet, too.

Eat: Have you seen Amélie? If not, watch it and then go to the café where much of the movie takes place. It’s in Montmartre by the Moulin Rouge (12 Rue Coustou), and it’s absolutely delightful. They have a drink called a Black Shadow, I think, which I drank when I was there (because, duh).

Go out on Sundays and look for any street market. They’re fantastic. The locals go out with little carts on wheels and pick up veggies, sometimes there’s live music, and the sights and smells are amazing.

Bakery: I wouldn’t say it’s the best bakery in Paris, but it’s the one I visited almost daily. It’s on rue Dauphine, in the Saint Germaine quarter, about 2 blocks away from the Seine. I don’t know the name, but it’s a little hole-in-the-wall place with very friendly women working there and totally divine pastries. You will also be about 40 paces from the apartment we had while I was there :)

Plus de français

This video is genius. You won’t get it, but just trust me. It’s amazing, and would have helped SO MUCH before I went to France!

It’s telling foreigners how to “faire la bise”.

Les bises are the characteristic French cheek kisses, which can get very complicated. When do you use them? With whom? How many kisses? That all changes in different regions of France and with different levels of a relationship.

Dreaming.

I know at least six people in France right now. They’re probably just chillin’, speaking French and eating baguettes, drinking the best espresso ever. They’re wearing black and passing people on the street with barely a nod, using a Carte Orange to make phone calls, and smelling rainy French asphalt.

I just have to tell myself that I’ll be back sooner than I know. In the meantime, I try to pretend France doesn’t exist… but it’s more difficult to do that when I sometimes play Scrabble in French, I get asked to say things with a French accent, and I read great articles about Paris in the New York Times.

This year is delightful, and challenging in all the right ways. And I will so enjoy not feeling tied down to any particular place when it’s over. A lot can happen in a year, so I hope a great portion of my year is spent planning to return to France and parlez français again.

Too Much Memories

After I got done spending eleven weeks in France in the Spring of 2010, I went to Germany for a week to visit a friend. She’s French, and I met her in France, but she was living in Regensburg, Germany at the time, and had invited me to stay with her. Germany was incredible; Regensburg is in the south, near Bavaria, so many Germans who are from that area also speak Bavarian, which apparently is very different from German. It was beautiful the whole time I was there, and I was able to just sit back, relax, and spend the time like I would have if I was spending summer at home.

We piled many bodies into a tiny car, blasted Credence Clearwater Revival, and went to a lake. We went for bike rides and played volleyball. We drank beer so thick that a pint was worth a day’s meals. And, like ya do, we introduced one another to awesome YouTube videos.

This is one that Lise, my friend, showed me. Amazingly, she knew all the words and sang along impeccably.
Yeah, she’s pretty cool.

Anyway, this is Bonaparte, with “Too Much.”

(P.S. The incorrect grammar in the title bothers me too. But you get it, right? Right?!)

“Le coeur ouvert à l’inconnu”

To celebrate not only the fin de la Tour de France, but also having the most posts this month than I EVER have accomplished before (in three years!)….

I might argue that this is the best song about Paris, ever. I mean, I’m all for “Free Man in Paris,” and all, but… damn. You can’t NOT sing along to this song.

Okay, maybe you can’t sing along because you have no idea wtf it’s saying (ha, burn), but trust me.

Translation:

I have walked along the avenue
The heart opened for the unknown
I wished to say: good morning
No matter whom
No matter who you were
I told you no matter what
It was enough talking to you
For taming you.

At the Champs- Élysées
At the Champs- Élysées
In the sun, under the rain
At noon or at midnight
There is everything you want
At the Champs- Élysées

You told me: „I have a date
In abasement with the madmen
Who spend with the guitar in the hand
From evening to morning.”
So, i have accompanied you
We sang, we danced
And we weren’t even thinking
Of kissing.

At the Champs- Élysées
At the Champs- Élysées
In the sun, under the rain
At noon or at midnight
There is everything you want
At the Champs- Élysées

Yesterday evening, two strangers
And this morning, on the avenue
Two lovers, all dazed
From the long night
And from the Étoile to Concorde
An orchestra with thousand strings
All the birds of the point of the day
Sing the love.

At the Champs- Élysées
At the Champs- Élysées
In the sun, under the rain
At noon or at midnight
There is everything you want
At the Champs- Élysées

The devil. In a bar. In Quebec. With Jesus. Scandal.

It is nearly Bastille Day (France’s independence day)! So I’m honoring the French… kind of.

In my french class a couple years ago, this guy from Québec came in and talked to us about the differences between French Canada and France. Mostly, that means he philosophized about hockey for an hour. He also played us this song, by the group Mes Aieux (My Ancestors).

From what I remember, and from what I understood of his explanation of the song, the lyrics are extremely morally questionable. You see, Québecoise are, for the most part, very religious (Catholic). But when they swear, they use words that also are religious terms. For instance, one of their curse words actually translates to something like, “damned altar!”

This song, “le yâbe est dans la cabane,” is about a face-off between Jesus and the Devil in a bar. It’s très comédique, especially because it uses metaphors and symbolism in words that may correspond to either the religious term, or the swear word. That makes it both very morally questionable, and very difficult to translate. I haven’t found a good translation since the one our gust speaker brought, which I don’t seem to have anymore.

If I remember correctly, it was banned from a few radio stations (or maybe all of them). Cool, huh?

“Yâbe” is the Québecois word for “diable,” which is the French word for “devil.”
“Cabane” means some sort of hut in French, which means some sort of bar in Québecois.

The Devil is in the Bar.
Enjoy.

Untitled, for now.

Exactly one year ago today, I embarked on a nearly 4-month-long journey to France, Italy, and (though I didn’t know it at the time), Germany. I got my passport stamped 4 times. I had one of the most [prolonged] learning and growing experience of my life– a period during which I was enriched in new ways every second of every day.

Things haven’t come very far. If I was a junior again this year, I would certainly take the trip again in a heartbeat. I would do so with more insight to the process of traveling, more confidence with the French language, and more knowledge in general. However, I would do so with, hopefully, the same amount (or more) of open-mindedness and enthusiasm. How can we expect to learn anything if we aren’t willing to try new things?

I don’t think I was a different person while traveling than I am today. I don’t think I would be a different person in France if I were to be there again tomorrow (with possible exception to my host family– I regret not talking to them more and being so shy). But for some reason, I don’t think I have had the same open mindedness and enthusiasm since getting back from my trip that I had abroad. I guess, since I have command of the language, and I have a very reliable and independent mode of transportation, and I have an immediately accessible support network near me, I have not felt like taking risks… or I have not felt that every action is a risk.

To be clear, I don’t think that every action is a risk. That would be silly and paranoid. But I do think that a traveler needs to look at every experience as a learning opportunity, and approach decisions and situations with a certain degree of caution and wariness… mixed with a healthy amount of spontaneity and a carefree attitude.

I seriously believe that traveling well is an art form. I dare you to challenge me.

So, what I mean by treating every action like a “risk,” is that even in our home countries, where we feel very comfortable and grounded, we have not only the ability to, but also almost an obligation to, go about life with the awareness, caution, spontaneity, and carefree manner that we would if we were traveling. This should enable to learn as much as possible from everyday activities, as well as those activities that break us out of our comfort zones.

For the record, another belief of mine is that the fundamental purpose of individuals’ lives (as distinguished from the purpose of human life in general) is to learn. And yes, I also believe that the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. So shoot me.

Which brings me to my real point: I broke out of my comfort zone today. The thrill of it reminded me of traveling, which in turn made me realize that I was automatically treating my day of “first times” like I would have any activity in France: with awareness, caution, spontaneity, and that carefree attitude.

The activity: Shooting guns at a range with a couple guys I’ve known about two months.

I could write another whole blog post about how vehemently opposed I am to the use (misuse?) of weapons, especially for the purpose of harming or in any way endangering a human life. nuh-uh. Hell to the no. Until about a week ago, I’d scarcely picked up a gun, which meant that I had neither learned to shoot one nor learned how to behave around one safely. But… it also meant that I was pretty sure I was immune to that sort of thing. I think my thought process went something like this: “I hate guns and weapons of any kind. They are only used to do evil. If I learned anything about them I would be legitimizing (or at least recognizing) their power and influence in the world, and I just don’t think they should have any power or influence in the first place!”

Not much has changed. I do think weapons are used in entirely the wrong ways. I’m not even sure if there are “right” ways to use weapons, except perhaps for food gathering, with which I really don’t have a problem. Unless animals are endangered and unless they are domesticated, I believe the circle of life does need to continue. I respect vegans and vegetarians, but I am not one, and I don’t have a problem with killing game.

I’m still struggling with my own hypocrisy, but I think I have it somewhat figured out: Learning how to operate and be safe around guns is not wrong. In fact, in some cases I think it’s necessary, and I think that to not learn proper weapon procedures can be ignorant and foolish.

Long story short: because I have a couple friends who are equipped and well-learned in this area, I decided to spend a day under their tutelage. I fired more guns today than I thought was possible and learned more than I’d ever cared to know. But I cared to know it today.

It was odd, though. I’ve spent so long treating guns and people who shoot them as despicable, heartless bastards that it was incredibly difficult to amend that preconception. When I was watching my friends, and the moment I was attached to a gun, the entire process was fascinating to me. I asked questions and genuinely tried to get the hang of each model. I didn’t even mind when the recoil on one nearly put my eye out (alright, so I took secret pleasure in it). I was having so much fun. But as soon as I glanced over at the other people at the range, in their proper stances and with their hands wrapped around the cold metal I was coming to know so well, I could feel myself get angry. For what were they practicing? Were they also right-wing conservatives related to Sarah Palin? How many endangered animals had they killed?

Nevermind the fact that here it was, my first time at a range, on pretty much my first time even holding a gun– I was just entirely convinced that my friends and I were the only ones there with the right mindset about shooting. We were the only ones treating it as a sport, and nothing more.

And then I realized: I was everything that I detest about the “typical gun-owner.” He is male. He is a Republican. He is a military veteran or a military hopeful. He has killed not only game, but also his once-in-a-lifetime moose and bear. He has rugs in his house made out of their hides and several stuffed and mounted heads. He has probably even shot at a fellow human being. But most of all, the gun owner is suspicious and paranoid. He sleeps with a pistol under his pillow, just on the off chance that he needs to protect his wife (because of course, she will need to be defended by her husband). He trusts no one, and categorizes people in terms like “hippie,” “terrorist,” and “fellow Christian.”

Maybe it wasn’t the weapons I hated, but the stereotypical weapon users. Had I become one of them in such a short time? I assumed the worst of those other people at the range. I assumed the best of my friends. And I was the purest of them all.

You need to have a little bit of anger in you, I think, to be able to fire a gun. There is nothing wrong with a healthy amount of anger. And yet, your target can’t be a mental image of a human face.

You have to be extremely cautious when handling a weapon. And yet, at some point you have to actually point it at something and shoot.

You have to be a little carefree to be able to shoot. If you try to think of all the moral implications of what you’re doing at once, you’ll put much more than your eye out. You’ll go crazy. And yet, you have to be very conscious of what is going on with yourself psychologically.

Most of all, if you feel like you have to attack anything, attack your own beliefs, your own comfort zone, and your own insecurities. We’re not always forced to do so unless we’re put in a slightly compromising (or heart pumping) scenario like we encounter when traveling. Sometimes we have to make our own hurdles by confronting something we thought was pretty stagnant and challenging it.

Not that I’m in a position to give advice, but here is my last piece of it anyway: make new friends. I hadn’t done so in a l-o-n-g time, but this year it has exposed me to some incredible people and their amazing minds, talents, and humor.

When you’re home, friends can challenge you to be or do something you never thought possible. When you’re traveling, friends can make you feel like you’re home.

Thanks for reading.

An attempt to analyze French cinema

I was watching a French film tonight and enjoying it enough, until I got very confused. Then I was frustrated, because I couldn’t seem to connect dots that seemed obvious. Why aren’t they sleeping together? Why did she just freak out and start going into a trance? Why does the son keep pretend shooting at stuff? Aren’t they even going to kiss? Why did a tertiary character just attempt to rape another tertiary character?

To console myself, I had to realize several things about French cinema. Take these with a grain of salt, please; there are many French movies I haven’t seen.

To say that French movies are symbolic is a gross understatement. Everything (everything) is a symbol. The weight of metaphors and symbolism in French cinema is so heavy that when you’re watching a French movie, if you want to get anything out of it, you have to almost disregard that there is even a storyline. If you don’t want your head to be fucked with, or if you aren’t interested in getting anything out of the film, or if you don’t know what metaphors and symbols are, go ahead and watch the French movie like you would any other movie out of Hollywood (Scorcese, Tarantino, Ang Lee, and Julie Taymoor excluded). Actually, if you don’t know what metaphors and symbols are you should probably stop reading this and go to the middle school I attended. Please.

Alright, so you’re disregarding the storyline. There are characters, sure, and they’re doing stuff and saying stuff, okay. What now?

Well, now you have to realize that you aren’t going to comprehend quite a lot of what is “actually” going on because of the language barrier. Luckily, I have a leg up in that aspect and I know enough French to where I can tell whether the translators did a good job with certain lines. In the movie I just watched, there were a few points where I actually gasped a little because I heard something in the dialogue that was definitely not in the subtitles. …I promise.

And that leads me to my next point, which is that most everything that matters is in what is not being said, or seen, or acknowledged. That’s why it’s important to not pay a lot of attention to the storyline or the verbalized characteristics of people, because the nonverbal is more important and more telling. For instance: If it comes across that a character is very proud, very purposefully mysterious, very heterosexual, and very fit, the fact that he breaks his ankle is insignificant. What is important is that his homosexual friend carries him home on his back.

If this were Hollywood, you would know (especially by the music, or by an awkward joke made by the heterosexual man) that this was a “turning point” in their relationship, or something, and that they would eventually be sexually intimate because of the supposedly platonic intimacy (i.e. “bonding moment”) they shared going home.

No, this is a French movie. No awkward jokes were made, there was no music, and the moment was not a turning point in their relationship. It did not lead to sexual intimacy. However, it serves to illustrate a humility and weakness that the heterosexual man had previously not felt or demonstrated. Also, his wife sees the scene and that creates tension.

Blah, blah.

In many scenes, there is a pool, and at one end of the pool there is a white neon sign that says “Il est grand temps de rallumer les étoiles”–”It is high time to rekindle the stars.” In the first scene where that sign appears, it is daylight so the neon is not lit, but one can still make out the letters. The subtitles do not translate the sign. Later, in another scene, the pool is shown at night, and the sign is lit. At that point, the subtitles translate the sign. It’s a beautiful phrase, but bien sûr–of course the words are purely metaphorical and absolutely inarguably there for a purpose, not just to be beautiful. The catch is that the phrase probably was meant to fit best in one of the first scenes in which it appeared, but you wouldn’t know that because you don’t speak French and weren’t able to translate it when it actually was pertinent.

There’s another scene with the same problem– one of the characters has been working on making stenciled phrases all over the walls, ceiling, and floor of his studio. When all these are shown, maybe a quarter of them are translated with subtitles. But the ones that really count are the ones that aren’t.

How do I know? Well, for one thing, I’m in school and have been a student of literature for quite some time. I’ve been a French student for quite some time, and I have also studied the French theater of the absurd. I also watch a lot of movies, and I also think too much. Voilá.

I also know the French, which is kind of ironic. The French don’t want to be known. I think half the reason French cinema is so weird and difficult to anyone who isn’t a complete foreign movie buff, Francophone, or lunatic, is because that is simply the way the French want it. The French love being exclusive, and I really believe that by making their movies difficult or incomprehensible, it’s a way that they can laugh at people in that very French way. You know what I’m talking about– Monty Python and the Holy Grail, anyone?! Seriously, that’s what it’s all about. They will sit at the top of a tower and laugh at you for ages. They will be very private and withholding and not let you inside.

I’m not joking. But… I am exaggerating. A little. At the end of the day, the French will share their chocolate with you (after sitting you down to tell you the history of it), and teach you new slang phrases that go against everything you learned in school but make you feel cool anyway (after teasing you about your proper textbook French), and they will tell you some secrets… after you gain their trust. Maybe one day they will tell us what their movies really are about… or maybe they’ll say “ha! Je vous rigole!”– the French “JK! LOL!”

Adieu (should be French for “new beginning”)

I know this awesome girl who is going to France! She’s studying abroad for most of the trip, but for a couple weeks she’s just sort of hanging out.

For the first three weeks, she isn’t allowed to read, write, or speak any English, so she started a blog where she will only write in French, and the main purpose of it is solely to update the world about what exactly she is doing, not necessarily what she is thinking (because her rudimentary French just won’t allow for it!).

Anyway, the blog is called “Les Pièces Intimes” (sound familiar?). You can read her itinerary there and be in-the-know about what her plans are and whether or not they’re actually carried out.

If you can’t read French, just copy and paste the text into Google Translator. It has worked very well so far for me.

By the way… this girl is me :)

And I am SO excited to have this unique opportunity, and I am just astounded by how lucky I am that I get this great chance to learn so much new culture and language, and have so many meaningful experiences overseas!

I’m not sure what will become of this blog when I leave. I’m sure I will have tons to say, but I’m not taking my computer so it will be very difficult to type on my iTouch, even when I do have WiFi. Also, if I’m not allowed to write in English I don’t know how I’ll update in a way that is actually coherent in French.

But I will probably cheat and update as much as I possibly can, and when I can’t update on my actual blog I will [hopefully] save up handwritten tidbits and post them all later.

I leave my computer tomorrow night (Tuesday), so I think for now I must bid you all adieu, unless I find the time between stages of packing to type up more Flashes from this past quarter.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope to be able to tell you as much as possible as I learn and experience everything I can!

Namaste, peace, and harmony.