Shitting hell. How is it the 7th February already? Time is going fast, too fast.
I know I say this all the time, but this week has gone so ridiculously fast; I feel sick from the motion of the days spinning away from me. The last thing I remember is waking up on Monday morning and now it's Thursday afternoon, apparently.
February? It's February already? Spring is definitely in the air. This week I've been hankering after flowering trees and warm winds, late sunsets and that early evening excitement, when finishing work feels like the start of something lovely, rather than the end of a cold, dark day.
But stop, wait a minute. March is the month when I have to start thinking about Future Plans, the month when I always panic and decide to stay in Paris for another year, just because I don't know what else to do. With Spring comes decision making.
Oh my God, my hands are actually shaking (because I'm terrified of the future, not because I haven't had a drink for twelve hours).
Sometimes, when I'm sat on the metro or walking down a quiet street, I'll suddenly feel really excited and my stomach will flip like I'm going up in a lift and I feel so giddy about what could happen in the future that I want to be sick. Other times, it feels as if my mood is collapsing in on itself. I have this sobering realisation that everything is going to be shit and all of a sudden I can see my future clearly, like condensation disappearing on a shard of mirror.
People keep asking me what I want to do next and the truth is, I don't want to do anything.
Oh I know I'm being so disgustingly selfish and ungrateful, I could be living in a slum somewhere and then I'd really have no hope for the future. Don't worry, I know, I KNOW.
This is a bit dark, isn't it? Maybe it's the alcohol. Me, B and Kayt went to the 'free cocktail bar' last night near Opera, only they've now stopped doing the free cocktails! Now it's two euros, which is still good I suppose. We didn't have to pay in the end, I don't really know why. Maybe it was because the guy remembered that last time we only had two cocktails and didn't fall off our bar stools like some of the girls in there... Maybe it was because they forgot to charge us. I guess we'll never know. We were celebrating the fact that Kayt got a First in her first essay for her masters. Good for you, Glen Coco!
Oh yes... there was something I wanted to tell you: the grandma of the au pair family is an absolute pyscopath, I can't believe I didn't notice last year...
Last week the nine year old had to draw a picture to go with a poem about a volcano that she had to learn off by heart. She was freaking out about it like always (I really think she has some sort of OCD when it comes to schoolwork and Kayt says her au pair kids do too) so I helped her draw a basic outline of a volcano with lava coming out it. When I say 'helped' I mean I drew it for her.
The grandma was watching the nine year old colour it in and she started scolding her, saying that lava wasn't just red, it had to have black bits in it... I went into the kitchen to get away from the situation because I didn't want the grandma to see on my face that I think she's a crazy bitch. Then I heard the nine year old screaming hysterically, crying and begging her grandma to help her. The grandma was shouting and she sounded really angry. I went to see what was going on and the grandma stormed out of the house. The nine year old was in a complete state. Her grandma had RIPPED OUT the drawing and the little girl was freaking out because now she had bits of paper sticking out of the staples in the middle of her book.
So that was last week.
Yesterday, the nine year old got her book out and the grandma saw the volcano that I'd redrawn for her. She went on and on and on about how volcanoes need to have a hollow basin at the top (we'd drawn it from a side angle so, no, you mad bitch) and how the lava didn't look like that. She rubbed out what we'd drawn and made the nine year old draw it again.
In case you're wondering, she's not very old and she doesn't have Alzheimer's. She's just a horrible, weird psychopath.
I know I'm ranting, but another thing that has been irritating me A LOT about the grandma, is that she thinks I'm stupid, but I know she's an absolute idiot. One day I was telling the nine year old how, if you grow your nails really, really long, they can curl under at the ends and even grow in spirals. The nine year old asked the grandma if this was true and the grandma just frowned and said "Non."
What do you mean, non? I hate it when people dismiss things because they have no imagination and no knowledge of the world.
Another time, she yelled at me to stop when I was just about to put a tray of cakes in the oven, because it was one of those rubber molds and she said it would melt.
At the time I turned the oven off and wondered if I'd fucked up, but that's what being an au pair does to you- it makes you question your own common sense and feel like an idiot when actually... it's the grandma who was being thick. OF COURSE it wouldn't have melted. IT'S SUPPOSED to go into a preheated oven.
Just for my own piece of mind, can I write what I would like to say to the grandma?
You don't know anything. You were born rich and you'll always be rich, therefore your opinion is invalid. You don't know anything about the world, you're an idiot.
Ah, that feels better.
This post has made me seem really bitter and mental. Kayt's friend from Newcastle has just moved to Paris, let's call him G.Shore because he's a Geordie and he likes to go to the gym and tan and 'stuff'. We told him about my blog and he has since told Kayt that I sound like a man hater.
I'm not a hater, am I?
I am a little bit. But I don't just hate men. I hate rich people (I mean people who have always been rich and who don't do anything fun with their money like build gold tree houses in their gardens or take baths in champagne), slow people on the metro and in the street, people who correct my French, people who don't correct my French... dogs...
Breathe, breath. I'm going to see 2ManyDJs tomorrow at Social Club. Then in ten days it's SBTRKT, at the same place. YEY. I hope it's not full of nobheads, I've not been to Social Club for agesssss.
I have to go and print off some pictures of ducks now for the nursery tomorrow.