Well, I've finally made it to Lubbock! And I couldn't be happier.

I was supposed to move into my new apartment, but that fell through. Blah, blah, blah. So now I'm here with nothing to do but party. Maybe I should find a job to keep me out of trouble...

Nah.

Estelline had a great show last night at Blue Light. It felt so good to be back with my friends. I was reunited with many good people, good drink specials ($1 wells, woot woot), and great music.

Hey, hey. Look what I got.

And it hurt. However, I did not cry, yack or pass out. It was a successful experience. I think it's beautiful and received some good feedback on it last night.

I find it strange that in this flat Texas town, I am happier than any other place in the world. Is it the freedom I have? Is it the fact that I'm more responsible for myself? Or is it the loving people I am surrounded by here?

Picking around on a piece of ground in your hometown.

I suppose I never closed out the trip in my blogs: Finished my French class with an A. Shabooyuh. Paris was overcrowded and had an abundance of souvenir shops. I wish it wasn't so touristy. I did love the Eiffel Tower though. So romantic. Slept for about seven hours of the 11 hour flight home, which was awesome.

I made it home broke, tanned and slightly more European than I started.

I've been in Tyler for roughly a week. Needless to say, I'm ready to get to Lubbock tomorrow! I enjoy the relaxation that Tyler provides, but I'm ready for freedom. This place is oppressive to me. I can't be bothered in Lubbock like I am here. I believe my flaws are more prominent while I'm in Tyler, like being put under a microscope and examined. In Lubbock, I don't feel like that; I'm far more independent and liberated from any blind criticism.

I was able to pack the Mini with everything I intended on bringing: my giant acoustic bass, my record player, the greater half of my record collection (roughly 80 of 145), and some clothes.

I'm hoping to get a job when I get to Lubbock. I'd love to work at the local record store (Ralph's Records), but I'm trying to feel if they'd hire someone that would need to take off almost all of August (family vacation, sorority rush, etc.). If the record store doesn't want me, maybe a local coffee shop.

Well other than reading Jack Keroac's On the Road and getting ready for the big move in Lubbock, nothing terribly interesting is going on in the life of Kat.

France, I love you, but you're making me fat.

From the French baguettes to the delicious countryside cheeses, I must've gained a million pounds in the past month. We leave Montpellier on Friday for Paris, where we will be wined and dined at the expense of Texas Tech. I'm excited for gourmet food, but all I need right now is a long margarita fast.

It has been a wonderful experience, though. I've met good friends, learned more French than I could hope for, and gained patience through the language barrier. I've written some poems, sketched a few buildings, and drank some delicious coffee.

Yesterday, Sherel, Nicole, Steven and I went to the beach. It was a bit overcast and cold but a relaxing day, nonetheless. Here's an excerpt from the poem I wrote at the beach:

Our Mother's most powerful and prominent feature draws me to you through Her power, Her beauty and Her love-- all of which have helped create and destroy the likes of man.

I don't know. I fancy the poem, I suppose. I don't write mushy stuff well (yeah it's one of THOSE kind of poems...), and I'm not sure how I feel about sharing the whole thing. Maybe one day.

My sandy feet at Palavas.

We've seen so much and done so many things; it's hard for me to keep up with this blog! I'm very sorry for neglecting.

Last night, my host mom and I had a bonding experience over sunburns and watermelon (or "pastèque" in French). I taught her to sift a bit of salt over the watermelon, and I think she liked it. I told her it was a Texas tradition. I showed her my sunburn, and she helped me apply vinegar to it; supposedly, that helps it not peel. I'm not a fan of the remedy because I smelled like I had been bathing in vinegar. If it works, I'm a convert for sure.

Kind of ready to get back to the States. I love it here, and I'm valuing my experience. I do miss everyone though. And my own habits of sleeping, eating, etc.
I've been seriously considering going back vegetarian. I did it for six months a couple of years ago. I can't do it in France because my host mom cooks for me, and I don't know how to tell her that I won't eat meat. Luckily, it's in moderation. There are many valid reasons for doing it: health, animal decency, clean mind and body. There are so many steroids and growth hormones in meat today that it's incredible. I'm sensitive to the process, too. I find it very disheartening to see and read about the cruelty inflicted on these animals.
Check out Paul McCartney's video about animal cruelty: (WARNING: Very graphic.)

Find out more at Meat.org.

How could you not be inspired while in a city as beautiful as this? This was taken in La Place de la Comedie. There is a fountain of the Three Graces in front, but it is under construction. In the center of the picture stands the Opera, complete with the hobos on the steps. To the lower left, there is a beautiful carousel. We haven't tried it out yet, but it looks so fun! To the right, there is a cafe that I enjoy sitting and drinking espresso at almost every morning. I wrote a poem about the building across the Place. It is beautifully designed with residential areas at the top. How would life be if you were to wake up in the morning and live in such a beautiful ville as this?

1 Juin 2010

Furiously writing, pen in hand, to transcribe the beauty I see into mere words:

Buildings, stories high, grazing the clouds as they pass by. Wrought iron balconies where inhabitants must spew their smoke, as to not taint their silk curtains and white washed linens. That dome, royalty held captive by their own accord, houses relics of good times ago.

Look down! Look around at the beauty that surrounds tout le monde. Peasants at cafes and Opera steps begging for cents as to maintain their bohemian lives. What strangers snap memories of monuments below! Are the not accustom to such wonders as this? Trash trucks and motor bikes pollute my expensive heir as pigeon desecrate on the perfect beauty. Greasy men and women dressed as whores meander through my Place, for I am the King of the Square, I say, as I spew smoke from my prison dome.

Allo!

Bonjour from France!

I've been here for almost a week, and I'm so in love with it! Montpellier is so clean and beautiful, although a little confusing. I've definitely gotten lost a few times. The woman I'm living with, Claudine, is very sweet. She has the tendency to get fed up with my poor French, but we get along fine. She is an interesting cook to say the least! Not only have I eaten liver and burnt toast, I think I have qualified for Fear Factor: she served me fried cow brains.

I knew what they were the second she put them down. I was praying to God that it was chicken. I cut into the gray mush and tasted it. Definitely brains. She asked, after I took the bite, if I knew what part of the cow it was. I pointed to my head and said, "brain?" "Oui, oui!" she shouted. I must've turned as white as the table cloth. I ate it all so as to not be thought rude, but I piled on the salt and potatoes. Probably the most adventurous eating experience I've had. I just hope she doesn't think I liked them! Who serves an American student brains? Seriously.

Reason #46 I shouldn't drink: I make a fool of myself on a public French beach.

We went to the beach yesterday. So, so beautiful. The water was very cold but nice. I had a little too much fun... three glasses of wine and a little Malibu goes a long way when it's hot outside and you haven't eaten lunch. Luckily, I survived. I hope I didn't make any enemies in the process because I had to be watched. Apparently, I was screaming "Je suis Americainne!" and "C'est bon!" ("I am American" and "It's good"). I'm interested to see everyone's perception of me today. Almost all of us were tanning topless, too. So free, so French.

I've been working on my single French-inspired dread. I think it looks cool. Mother-bear will probably kill me but my hair, my choice.

Here it is:

I think it's pretty groovy.

We are visiting St Guilleme today. Should be interesting!

Au revoir, mes amis <3

Leavin' on a jet plane

Here I am in the George Bush International Airport getting ready to board a plane to a country where I do not speak the language very well, and I couldn't be more excited. Loving this airport (I'm one of the few people who loves airports. People, food, magazines, heaven.)!

I should be arriving in Paris around 8:15 a.m., or 1:15 a.m. Texas time. Awesome.

I have had my iPod ringing in my ears since I started my journey. Tallest Man on Earth, the Black Keys, the Raconteurs, Damien Rice, and Oasis have all accompanied me through this journey. What great company!

Q Magazine's "Man on the Run" article about Paul McCartney was phenomenal. It's interviews and writing like that article that makes me want to become a writer. The journalist, Paul Rees, followed McCartney around for a month to get a complete story. How much of a dream would it be to follow Sir Paul around for four weeks! I think I would die of a heart attack.

The next blog you read from me will be posted from France! Au revoir!