By Request

France, as far as I’m concerned, was the best decision for me. I learned a lot about self-confidence, my culture as compared to several others and a love for teaching and learning languages. It would take probably another novel to describe my time in Clermont Ferrand, so we’ll just go through a typical day in the life.

In the morning, I wake up in my little “chambre huit” or “room 8” in the dorms. It is literally a room about the width of my arm span. I have a bed that is perfectly Stephanie-sized. Anyone bigger than me would tumble off. Partitioned behind the bed, I have a little “lavabo” where I wash my hands, my plates and the occasional piece of laundry. The closet is across from the lavabo and is about the same size. Luckily, I only packed for about two weeks. I wash these clothes once a week in a little laundry room down the hill and wear them again. I do have a wall-sized window and a large desk where I can sit and watch le tram go by. In the winter, I took le tram everywhere but once it warmed up, I just walked.

My favorite meal by far is breakfast because I buy a box of croissants or almond pastries or apricot pastries every week. I don’t have a refrigerator, but the super marché (ATAC) is across the bridge and milk here doesn’t go bad as fast as American milk so I can buy a smaller container to last me a few days.

Then I head down the hall and pray there aren’t any boys in the showers. Though there are four stalls, I’ve gotten stuck next to a guy enough times to know how disgusting they are in the shower. I also want to shower before the femmes du chambres arrive. They will stand outside the shower muttering and tapping their feet impatiently until you leave. The same goes for the toilets, which are right next door and set up just like the showers. You have to supply your own toilet paper.

After all that, I gather all my papers, etc and start my walk to school. I’m not sure exactly how far Blaise Pascal is from the dorms but it took me about 15-20 minutes every morning to get there on foot. I like walking in the morning because there is a great view of the mist rising off the mountains from the bridge. I’m in level 3 of 6 in terms of speaking French. That means I can carry a basic conversation and read Glamour in French but I’d have a hard time talking about technical subjects. My classmates are all foreign. Most of them are Chinese and, though friendly, prefer to talk among themselves. I hang out with the four who aren’t. First there’s Marta, a 30-something Mexican doctor who fell in love with a man from Clermont and moved to marry him. Next is Khai, a Vietnamese programming guy who is also in his 30s but looks like he’s around 14. Khai is nicknamed “Khai-sourire” or “Smiley Khai” because he giggles at everything. I think he looks a little like Yoda. He giggled about that too. Then there is Huan Chen. She’s from Tawain and wants to study fashion in Paris. She is always dressed to kill but maintains a heart of gold. She also lives at the dorms so we walk home together most days. Diego is from Brazil and it is from him that I learn everything you’ve heard about Brazilians is true. He’s equally gorgeous and pompous and has made it his mission to see that everyone falls madly in love with him. Unfortunately, he also sleeps through most of class, which hinders his mission considerably. When he isn’t snoring, he writes “Steph hearts Diego” all over our group assignments, much to the enjoyment of Khai. Marta puts him in his place for me. Huan Chen rolls her eyes and whispers that he’s probably drunk to make me laugh. Here we all have a section (mine is 3C) so we all take the same classes together and by the end of the semester, I’m more than sorry I can’t take them with me.

Class here is two hours long with a 15 minute break in between. I have about one a day, though each deals with a different aspect of the French language. I have Grammar, Speech, Listening, Writing and Regional Culture. Naturally, culture was one of my favorites.

The rest of my day is spent hanging out with the other American exchange students, my 3C classmates, skyping, reading and eating. I skype the family every Sunday at 4 pm Paris time, which is 9 am their time. On Wednesday, I skype my boyfriend at around the same time. We don’t have internet in the dorms, so we have to go down to batiment A (building A) to connect. That’s the building with the laundry room, the cafeteria, and the main office. The internet in Batiment A connects for about five minutes at a time, if you are lucky. Most of us ended up trekking across the bridge to the only American restaurant in town for free wifi: Subway. So I grab a late lunch at Subway every Wednesday and Sunday to talk to America.

So that’s about it. On breaks I did a little traveling with friends and my family came to pick me up after finals. Waiting at Charles De Galle, sitting on my luggage watching the terminal for my family to come through was really one of my favorite parts. I got to share Paris and Clermont with them and then travel on to Switzerland and Italy.

I hope this makes up for lost time at least a little bit. I have infinitely more stories of France but if you’ve been sitting in one place while you were reading this, it is definitely time for a stretch.

R & C

What makes the writer’s mind so fascinating is that you can’t turn it off. When you’re writing, the outline, plot twists and characters are all you can think of. When you aren’t writing… the outline, plot twists and characters are all you can think of. You’re supposed to write what you know. To know things you have to do things or talk to people who have done things or read about how to do things. Everything is a potential story. Living for a story is invigorating…and exhausting. It is important, then, to have other hobbies; the more concentration necessary—the better. Then, when you come back, the chaos (I liken my creative brain to a news room, each reporter cell is in charge of a facet of my novel. P.S. The editor is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met) has quieted. A few employees are on vacation and/or napping at their desks and I have a brief period of time when I can write with abandon.
That’s my excuse and I’m stickin’ to it.
My escape from my escape is crafting. Everything from home décor to desserts excites me. I think it’s because there is a smaller time commitment involved and I have a tangible finished product I can show off immediately. Plus, these projects require more handiwork than brain power. Aaaah, serenity.
Last weekend, I made a wall clock from an old vinyl and scrapbook supplies (the males in my family haven’t stopped twitching in pain. It was a Disney record, ok?!) It came out so well, I had to fight off a few attempts to abscond with my new project.
Today, inspired by the genius mind behind Bake at 350 ,  I made White Chocolate Peanut Butter Truffles. I adapted her recipe, which you can search for under “Chocolate Raspberry Truffles,” and basically created super classy inside-out Reeses. Still, they were delicious. I’m going to use them tomorrow to bribe myself to finish another short story. I’d like to promise pictures...but I don’t know if they’ll last long enough.  After that, I’ll move on to card-making.
     What do you do to relax?

Blue Bloods by Melissa De La Cruz Book Review

Goodbye Edward, hellooo Gabriel. According to Anne Rice, angels will soon replace vampires as the sex icon of the literary world. If Rice is ready to give up her creatures of the night it must be true. What to read before the great switch from fanged bad boys to gorgeous guys with wings? Try a compromise: The Blue Blood Series by Melissa De La Cruz.
In this novel, the vampires are fallen angels bound to Earth as a punishment for siding with The Morningstar (Satan) in the battle of Heaven and Hell. They are cursed to remain until they have advanced the human race to God’s satisfaction, when they believe they will be taken back into Heaven. The problem is that they’ve become indulgent and neglectful of their mission. Reincarnating after every human life cycle with access to eternally expanding wealth could do that to anyone. Among the society papers, designer wardrobes and penthouses, however, evil is approaching. It will be up to the new generation of Blue Bloods (good vamps have blue blood running through their veins) to convince their elders of the danger. Ultimately they must choose between their charmed lives and the fate of their race.
Most famous for her Au Pair series, De La Cruz delves deep into theology and mythology for her Blue Bloods novels. She delivers the world-building depth of urban fantasy that Twilight lacked while her fashion roots peek through the story to give the books a kick of Gossip Girl double-edged fame and fortune.
Blue Bloods is a fun book to curl up with on a blah day. It's a quick read with a fast-paced plot and a cast of memorable characters torn between adolescence and a powerful responsibility.

Spring Cleaning

In the world of full plates, I might as well be trying to haul the buffet back to the table. I'm taking 19 hours of school (x2 for homework), attempting a new novel, working with another author on her children's story (internship), supposed to be looking for a "real" job for May and cleaning up after a Border Collie who sheds cotton balls on an hourly basis. Not three weeks into the semester, my boyfriend found me curled up on the kitchen floor with my hands over my face.

Stress and college students are practically synonyms. Experts tell us that a little stress is good. Stress is the sharp prod we often need to get things done. Generational and culture developments, however, have upped the importance of perfection. Coffee, energy drinks, prescriptions and even hard drugs are used to keep people conscious long after they should be. Therefore, there is no excuse for less than Superwoman. At one point or another, however, everyone cracks.

We know life is more than work, work and more work. We know sleep is important, as is healthy eating and exercise. So why haven't we done anything about it? Part of me believes we crave stress like an addiction. If we aren't going like the Energizer Bunny, we're slouching on the couch. Stress is also kind of a rush. We feel like Batman in a corporate race against time. I can't stop everyone. As for me, I quit.

Resolutions don't work for me, so let’s call this "Stephanie's Spring Cleaning."As I clean the apartment, the dog, the blog, I will clean my life of stress. I cannot get rid of all my obligations, of course. Instead, I will manage them in the same way I rationed my Halloween candy as a kid. Stuff it where I can't see it and take out one a day. Two, if I really deserve it.

I'll break down everything in my aesthetically-pleasing agenda because I know that I am drawn to color and organizational tools. For me, highlighters are better in green. Sticky notes are more effective if they are in the shape of a speech bubble. If expensive fountain pens turn you on, use them to fill out a boring report. At least you will feel stylish while you complete it.

Then, on my honor, I will look at the "Today" page and only the "Today" page. Each time I finish something I will slash through it with Zorro-like gusto. If I only finish one thing that day, I will be proud and reward myself.

I also promise to recognize that an uninspired person is an unmotivated person. Before I start on said work, I may start my work day with the following:

1. Going for a long walk.
2. Going to Zumba or simply putting on my workout clothes and cranking up Lady GaGa. I will dance like a fool until there is simply no energy left for stress regardless of the strange looks I get from the dog.
3. Reading Deadline Dames or any other subject -related blog/magazine/book I find.
4. Talking to my Very Important People so my "I am loved" tank is full.
5. Meditating (napping) for 30 minutes. I will set the timer so I won't need a clock in the room.
6. Writing something I want to write instead of starting with something I have to write.

One thing I won't do is stress about trying to be stress-free. I promise to forgive myself if I slip up. It's easy to start in when someone asks about your day or talks about their own problems. It will take a while. I don't expect to be cured before the semester is over. I hope, however, that if taking the time to relax, it will get easier.

Have a reduced-stress weekend, everybody! Tell me what you do to unwind in the comments.

Consider The Writer

This week has been all about preparing for the Greater Grad Career Fair Downtown. Appropriate yet stylish new suit? Check. Ironed button-down shirt in the loudest color I could get away with? Bright pink, yeah! Panty hose and heels? …unfortunately, yes. Twelve resumes on cardstock paper? Got it. 60-second promotional speech on what a professional writer could do for them? Yes…wait, what?

I came to the career fair intending to sell my business minor and my previous work experiences. (I’m interning at a publishing company! I used to teach French college students to speak and write English!) Oklahoma is known for their oil and gas industries and not their writers. I was amazed when I realized they were actually interested in my Blog Critics articles, my blog and that I worked on the paper in high school.

One statement I’m not sure I responded to well enough was “You seem to be into the creative side of writing.” They were looking for a technical writer. The real question was, “Could you handle the business side of writing?” My answer to that is, Absolutely.

But how could someone who aspires to be a fantasy novelist possibly possess the skills to write about management or IT?

The proof is in the practice not the content.

Here are three things writers are universally that make them universally valuable:

First, writers are researchers. It doesn’t matter if I’m writing a news story or a character sketch or an instruction manual. Before anything goes down on the page, I have to believe without a shadow of a doubt that I know what I’m talking about. The agreement when a reader chooses to spend their time on our writing is that we won’t waste their time by being uninformed. That’s trust. That goal is also applicable in any respectable job field. A person unafraid to spend the time getting her work right is invaluable.

Second, writers are teachers. A writer bangs furiously on the keyboard for three main reasons: to inform, to persuade, or to entertain. Informing is arguably the most important. We love to share our knowledge and experiences. If you don’t believe me, think briefly of the massive self-help section in Barnes & Noble. We love teaching! In our (sometimes unsolicited) wisdom, we strive to connect you to the reverence we have for human rights, politics, conservation and, yes, shoes. We translate political-speak into something that makes sense for you. We take apart difficult concepts (what exactly happened to the economy, anyway?) discard the finger-pointing and give you what is important. Successful companies are founded on excellent communication (as are all relationships.) Successful communication is what writers do.

Third, writers are self-motivated. Writing is not a profession people go into for profit. There isn’t a niche for writers who hate writing but want someone to pay them. Writers without passion don’t fare well. They never make it that far. Part of this is because our passion is directly proportional to the amount of money we make. Yeah, we could just write that one piece for the paper or magazine per month, but we’d like to use the air conditioner this summer so we’ll pick up other opportunities to make that happen. If we’re very lucky, we’ll spend months and months and months locked up in the home office trying to create the next bestseller while our friends have forgotten what we look like and our family is afraid to knock on the door because of what happened "last time." Giving unlimited time to a profession that may never give back the amount of time we spent on self-educating and creating isn’t for the weak of heart. That’s passion, dear readers. There are plenty of employees out there, but tell me: how many are passionate about what they do?

The job hunt is getting worse every day, and the girl with the ‘Professional Writing’ sticker isn’t always taken seriously. She knows, however, that she’s every bit as capable of doing a great job as the business majors. So please, esteemed readers, consider the writer.

An experience abroad

I really wish I’d realized how much going abroad would be like re-entering high school. The most tempting faux pas is everyone’s biggest mistake: trying to fit in.
Because, as a foreigner, all you want is to blend into the background to better observe the culture. I’m going to assume this is you, not the pompous ethnocentric whose goal abroad is to “educate” everyone else. Yes? Good. Moving on…
In your country of choice, the “seniors” are the local co-eds. They’ve stepped out every foreign fantasy you’ve had to stare coolly at your carefully selected a la mode outfit and mumble too fast for you to understand. You want so badly to be one of them, but no matter how hard you try they either roll their eyes or suppress giggles when you test your French. Of course, as in high school, these cool kids are just like everyone else-preoccupied with their own worries and problems. The only thing that separates you from the pack is your cute new-kid-on-the-block innocence. They’ve been here much longer, so don’t stress when you don’t instantly “get it.”
In France, they know immediately that you aren’t French. If you try too hard to dress or act French, you will offend them. The French have a deep pride in their nationality that doesn’t reach those without a lengthy French ancestry. No matter how long you live there, you won’t be French. For now, be yourself. I know, it was an impossible concept to grasp at age 16 and, unfortunately, it hasn’t gotten any easier. As long as you remember you are a guest in their country, you will notice more genuine interest.
Yes, you are the freshman here. This doesn’t mean, however, that you should limit yourself to the other freshman, specifically those of the same nationality. One would think that being an American abroad would mean I would, by default, have something in common with the other Americans abroad.
One would be wrong.
I met a guy from Denver who refused to speak to me in English or about American-related things. I understand absorbing the culture but I sensed he didn’t want to be identified as “foreign.” I believe he is a prime candidate for trying too hard to fit in (see paragraph above.)
There were eight Americans in my “Ville Française” from my school. None of us knew each other and while we did learn to live and travel together, an insane amount of back-biting broke out before the semester was over. You don’t have to ostracize yourself from your fellow countrymen and women, but make sure to venture outside your circle every once in a while.
I had the most fun hanging out with my classmates. In the French school I attended, we were broken up into levels and classes. In 3C, I had a group of close friends that had a Vietnamese barbeque, did projects together, and went out for drinks after finals. We were Mexican, Brazilian, Chinese, Taiwanese, American and Vietnamese. None of us spoke the same language so we had to use French to communicate. I was having too much fun to recognize I was learning until my grades skyrocketed.
Abroad, especially in France, it is impossible to be too polite. In the United States, being too formal or overly polite would arouse the suspicion that you were not sincere. The more you say “S’il vous plait, Merci, Madame and Monsieur” over there, the faster doors open. You may learn doors do not open quickly in France. Therefore, any advantage is worth exploiting.
By the end of the freshman year things have changed drastically. You have a new group of friends, a new independence and a new perspective on life. Just like in high school, your experience abroad will change you. I hope it does. Bon chance!

The OU Alpha Chi Video- from an OU student's perspective

I found out about this yesterday just before my Management *shudders* final. At that time, the YouTube video featuring an Alpha Chi Omega at the University of Oklahoma crying because she had drunkenly taken the fire extinguisher to her sorority house to "make it snow," already had over 5,000 hits. This morning, as I was cruising the blog circuit, it was EVERYWHERE. It has been removed from YouTube since, but not fast enough.
Admittedly, the video is hilarious (in a mean way.) The girl is sobbing drunkenly and trying to apologize for ruining the house. When her "friend" taping the entire thing tries to calm her down, she stutters that she "only thought it would be a little *poof*" and not an explosion of foam. Classic. I can't tell you what I would've given to be there for the foam party. My problem with it is that the director of this film decided it was necessary to humiliate this, hopefully, otherwise sane girl by posting it on YouTube.
It kills me that every time Oklahoma gets press, it always seems to reinforce the "backwards dumbass" image I'm afraid is becoming popular. I also had the history teacher that was taken into custody in 2004 for staging a fake robbery while his wife was home so he could play the hero. He is the reason I aced the AP Euro exam. Unfortunately, the world will remember him for his poorly-thought out plan to score points with his wife.
The point is I feel really sorry for this girl. There are countless college students that drink and do ridiculous things -even destructive things. Pulling the fire extinguisher out because she "wanted to make it snow" is largely harmless. The only reason she's being targeted is because she had the kind of friend we all hope to avoid. The kind that sits back and watches you be an idiot. The kind that goes the extra mile to post it on YouTube so everyone else can laugh at you too!

What do you think?