On resting bitch face and my first full week

I knew this would happen. You probably knew this would happen. But alas, I have failed to update my blog regularly. I can't say I didn't warn you, but after several messages from friends and family members alike, I have decided to lock myself dans ma chambre to write this post. I mean, you do have to understand that the minutes it takes me to write these damn things are valuable minutes that I am missing out on walking and exploring and drinking. Alors, quelques impressions:

The French are my kinda people for the following reasons:

1. They are fashionable af. 

2. POLITICS POLITICS POLITICS!

3. RBF (Commonly known as resting bitch face).

French fashion is amazing, and I just happen to live two blocks off of one of the chicest streets in all of Paris known as Saint-Germain des Près. It is home to the cafes that Hemingway wrote in, Ladurée, Cartier, etc. etc. Every morning in my metro ride to school I am so inspired by what people are wearing, be it the cocoon coats that every femme in Paris seems to be sporting these days, or the Gregory-Peck type specs that so many men wear here. I haven't done much shopping yet, but I am making the trek to the 18th to shop at the APC store (and also check out a knitting store that a friend's host family recommended to me bc ya gurl is in desperate need of yarn). Fashion is effortless here, but not sloppy. As it should be.

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"The French go bon-kehrs for politiques" - my host dad, Jean-Claude (He has the cutest habit of trying to slip in "common English expression" to seem widdit and hip when speaking to me). 

The French rarely talk about themselves in conversation, which is why so many people think that the French are guarded and unfriendly. Maybe to an American perspective this might seem to be, but just try to talk about politics with them and they will welcome you with arms wide open. I love the way the French approach politics as well. People get into heated discussion all the time, but never offended. Political debates in French are all about progressing in a conversation and learning from one another, not being petty and attacking one another. (AMERICAN FRIENDS, LEARN FROM THIS). They aren't afraid to be opinionated, and they care about global issues, not just national issues. Even though my host family and I don't always have dinner together, we to watch the news together almost every night pour être courrant.

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Finalement, le resting bitch face. RBF is about as plentiful as baguettes and red wine at dinner, so much so that the French even have their own expression for RBF, known as faire la guele. I was once probably like you are now, asking what stick the French had up their asses because they always looked so pissed and never smiled, especially when on the metro. And then it hit me. They, too, have resting bitch face. I am no stranger to this terrible affliction. Many a times has someone asked me if "I was mad" or "having a bad day" because my face (not my personality?) just exuded bitchiness. But c'est pas ma faute! RBF is real, and I am just a mere victim. Not gonna lie, the fact that I pretty much only wear black, navy, and olive doesn't really help combat the assumption that I am in fact a sour bitch, but like the French, I apologize for nothing.

Is she a bitch? No, she's French. 

On arriving and Charlie Hebdo

My first day in Paris was overwhelming to say the least. I could be selfish and complain about the three hour flight delay, the crying baby that I wanted to murder on my flight, or the serious jetlag I faced during my first 24 hours of being abroad. To be honest, the most overwhelming thing of being here though is feeling the tension and anxiety in Paris. If you have been living under a rock, let me break it down for you: 12 writers of Charlie Hebdo, a French satirical newspaper, were brutally murdered on Wednesday morning by two Islamist gunmen due to a cartoon they published depicting the prophet Muhammad. Since then, there have been two hostage situations, one of which included the two gunmen. At around 5pm local time, the police offers found the gunmen and killed them. The past 48 hours have been intense and it's been hard to get the most up-to-date coverage of it all when you have (if you're lucky) 30 minutes of wifi a day.

I've been told that these events are to the French what the terrorist attacks of 9/11 were to Americans. Luckily, what I can say about all of this is that the French are very unified on this issue. The solidarity is palpable; you can't walk more than two blocks without seeing graffiti reading "Je Suis Charlie" and French businesses all have the slogan written on chalkboards or pieces of paper on their store fronts. There have been several peaceful demonstrations against these attacks and there are more planned for this weekend. As a foreigner in Paris, I'm not sure how to react to everything; the line between being respectful of a culture that isn't my own while being vocal is very fine. I will never quite understand the magnitude of what these attacks mean because I am not French. I didn't grow up seeing these cartoons and I still don't even understand what Franco-Islamic relations are like. While it might be easy for me to be dubious of the comparison of Charlie Hebdo to 9/11, bottom line is that I just won't understand the magnitude of these events. All I can do at this point is be respectful of the feelings of many French people and remain observant.

On a separate note, I'm moving leaving my hostel in the 14th arrondissement tomorrow morning for my host family's apartment in the super swanky 6th arrondissement right off the Seine. Im super stoked because I got the family I requested and I am only about a ten minute walk from Paris 4 (Paris-Sorbonne) where I will be studying Art History. I'll try to update you all tomorrow and make sure to attach a picture of the view from my window (which is sure to make you all super pissed that you're stuck on the east coast in a snow storm lol sorrynotsorry).

~o0o first post~

Welcome to La Vie en Prose. Yes, it's corny as hell. Do I care? Only in a mildly self-conscious way; like not in a big enough way that I would forego naming my blog such, but in the kinda way where I might look back at this in like three months and hate myself for it. So here's the deal: I like to write but have convinced myself for the past few years that my writing should be kept clandestine in nondescript but ~super artsy~ black moleskine notebooks. This. Ends. Now.

The new year means new beginnings and my new beginnings include the following: a new city, new language, new university and new friends(?) So while this introductory look into my study abroad blog couldn't get anymore cliché and before I go vom at my own sad attempts to be witty, let me welcome you to my very own web address in which I will avoid doing my french homework by documenting my wanderings and new surroundings in France, as well as present some prose writings that I hope to work on while abroad. Read on, comment if the spirit moves you, and peep my instagram. (I will obnoxiously geotag everything and take way too many pictures of food like the bougie bitch I am, and no, I'm not sorry bout it because #YOLO is still v. relevant in 2015.) I once had a short stint with tumblr when I was like fourteen and had side bangs, which by the way is too damn old for side bangs, but hopefully this study abrog will prosper and someone other than my mom will read this. In the mean time, enjoy this picture of my sister wearing a burberry bucket hat and me in some really cool matrix-esque sunglasses from 2001 below:

Note: I am six years old here and clutching onto a can of diet coke while giving some SERIOUS bitch face. 
Not much has changed. 

P.S. - my link is lavienproses.blogspot.com because some asshole from Portugal took lavieenprose.blogspot.com in 2006 and hasn't updated since. Blogspot is majorly lame and wouldn't let me add hyphens or periods, hence the slightly modified web address.