Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Dear Fiona Apple,

Thanks for being awesome.

Love, Danica

Monday, May 12, 2008

Je te plumerai la tête

More than a week later and I still have a job.

Yesterday seriously grossed me out. While sitting on a bench waiting for the metro to arrive a man was standing in front of me, clearing his throat, blowing his nose, and spitting down onto the tracks over and over and over again. I got on the train and had to step over vomit to get to a seat. When I got out of the Vendôme metro station to go wait for the 105 bus to arrive a dog came up and shat a big stinky pile a few feet away from me. When I got to my place of work I went into the kitchen where on the counter a dish with leftover dinner from the night before was crawling with ants. Hundreds of them. When I went to the bathroom a box of suppositories sitting on top of a jar of petroleum jelly stared at me while I pissed. Later, the dog hacked up something nondescript. Also, J. has taken to not wearing pants around me. While waiting at the Lionel-Groulx metro station a man urinated into a garbage bin. On the train a woman sat with her feet on the seat next to mine. Her toenails were dried-out, yellowish-green, and about a quarter of an inch thick. All day long I felt like I was under attack. I doubted the existence of God. I badly needed a drink.

Dog by Suzie Templeton

Thursday, May 01, 2008

I hate the dog.

Today just may be the last day of my short stint as an in-home caregiver for an elderly woman. She's very dehydrated and I can't seem to get her to drink enough, so hopefully she will go to the hospital today to get an IV put in to re-hydrate her so that she can recover quicker. I'm not sure if she'd need me again after she left the hospital. The job hasn't been bad, except for the fact that I work every day, and the pay is much better than I've ever received before. I make her food, remind her to take sips of various drinks, do laundry, wash dishes, feed her pets, water her plants, talk about books, listen to stories about Montreal's sordid past, walk the dog, do some shopping, do some light cleaning. There are only a few unpleasant duties. All in all, it's been a good job, but I'm really looking forward to a day off. I think I need a day or two of sitting on the balcony drinking beers and reading Machiavelli. If only it would warm up outside.

The summer semester started yesterday, so last night I went to the first meeting of my French writing class. The class is very small, only about ten people. The professor is a teeny tiny woman with an even teeny tinier voice. I'll have to sit closer to the front next time so that I can hear her better. As in every French class I've been in, we started the course off with introductions ("Je m'appelle Matthew. Je fais mes études en géographie humaine et langue et littérature de la langue française. Je m'inscris dans ce cours seulement pour m'amuser, bien sûr." Etc., etc.). I think I say the same thing every time. I know two other people in the class from other classes. The teacher assigned a novel (La tournée d'automne by Jacques Poulin) to be read over the course of the month-and-a-half long semester, but I'm a dork and had the thing read through before the class even started. I haven't gotten much practice writing in French in the program so far, so this class should be good for me. I'm also taking another, more intensive, writing class next semester, so I figured this semester's class would be a good warmup for next semester, where I'll be in classes with native French speakers. That intimidates the hell out of me.