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Thursday, August 25, 2005

edith piaf, where are you now?

I woke up to a beautiful blue sky.

I felt good. Feeling playful, I headed to the hairdressers down the street, where a very chic French woman with pitch black hair cut my bangs for the price of nothing. This is unlike me. Haircuts make me sweat, and ‘shorter’ isn’t a part of my vocabulary. But I wanted my hair out of my eyes, and I was feeling whimsical. I even thought about getting it all cut short. Hell, why not? I'm young, single, and it's about time I started experimenting.

Happy with the results, I headed confidently down the street, where a man stopped me to ask if he could take me out for a drink. I refused with a smile and kept walking.

Unfortunately my lighthearted mood didn’t last long. I don’t know what it was, but as I set off discovering the “trendy shopping district” of Oberkampf, I got hit with the blues. The Parisian blues.

The blues follow me around all the time, and I never know when they’re going to creep up on me, suddenly making me wish I had a husky voice and a saxophone to make sense of them.

Soon everything felt wrong, my hair felt stupid, my heart heavy and my body tired. I kept walking.

And only when you have the blues, do you walk over an air vent wearing a flowing skirt, and watch in horror as you expose everything underneath it. Luckily I started laughing, and decided to take the event as humorous. I didn’t look back, but no one in front of me even seemed to notice, or look twice as I walked down the street laughing into my hand and clenching my skirt.

Soon I was so tired, and so filled with waves of anxiety, that I had to take off home. Sometimes the city is overpowering, and I get hot flashes, suddenly feeling anxious and insecure, as if all my senses being attacked.

I can’t believe how quickly my wallet empties, and how vulnerable I feel in the material world.

Back at home I turned on the TV. Normally not a TV fan, I’ve been using it to unwind, to distract me from loneliness, and to improve my French. You should hear the voice-overs on the Simpsons.

After dinner I decided to give the city another chance. I took off to Starbucks dreaming of a decaf coffee and Wireless Internet, only to have the cashier tell me they were closing as I approached the counter. After two long metro trips to get there, and a feel of unease all the way, I decided this was not my day.

It’s the kind of day where nothing fits right. Your hair doesn’t fall right. Nothing is comfortable, but even more so, nothing is comforting.

I called home to get the answering machine.

I picked up the computer because I had no one to talk to.

I turned on the TV because I didn’t want to hear myself think.

And I realized that even in Paris, you get the blues.

how blue

2 Comments:

Blogger AFGUY said...

Seems like your days werent too bad, althoguh they could have been better? You must be a picky lady to still be single. You appear to be heading in the right direction in life...hope you have a better day in paris tomorrow..

p.s. i responded to ur question on my blog :)

1:36 PM  
Blogger Haley said...

Gill,

The blues follow you wherever you go.. If you want to feel better..just look at that amazing picture you posted on your blog. You're living THERE. It's just gorgeous. And yes I understand that it's not "as great as it seems" At least we're not fighting in Afghanistan...like our new found friend here.

And I totally appreciate that my blog helps you out at times. Makes my heart smile knowing that my writing might actually have an affect on people.

Haley.

5:44 PM  

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