The Girl Who Ate Everything

Blogging about food and whatever since 2004.


in the snack machine
Don't worry; they also have Skittles

I should work on homework for my computer class or French class, but instead I felt like writing. Despite the craploads of writing you see here, the urge doesn't come that often. I have to take it when it comes. Programming squares and circles will have to come later. (Once I figure out how to do it.)

Speaking of school, I have a stupid question. Should I take 17 credits (5 classes) or 14 (4 classes)? Cost per credit wise, I should take 17 and get my 20 bagillion dollar education's worth.'s so tempting to drop a class and get that much more time to see Paris.

But...I'm here to study, I suppose. And to see Paris. And other things. Dropping one class won't do much in that respect, as I'll still have class every day. I could live with 15 credits, but 14 credits doesn't seem like enough.

If anyone's wondering what classes I'm taking [tumbleweed rolls by], my schedule includes French 1 (bonjour!), intro to computer programming, intro to computational environments, psychology and gender, and comparative civilizations (mediterranean and Asian). The last class scares me the most out of all of them, but I may be overreacting after only having one session this morning. Our next class on Friday is at the Louvre and there's a study trip to Rome in October. In that sense it's actually very awesome (just bought my carte jeune, which gives those under 26 unlimited access to the museum for a year, and for 15 euros is worth buying even if you only go twice in one trip), but...I'm extremely non-passionate about history, which may not go over well with my intensely exuburant teacher.

Eh, I got this far in school. It'd be weird to screw up now.

Am I a fuck up? This isn't a question anyone can actually answer besides me. I'm know...wondering.

I like Paris. Or perhaps I should say that it doesn't make me uncomfortable. The only problem I'm having right now (aside from the language barrier, but hey, it's my fault for not knowing French!) is that I'm reminded of how much I suck in real life. You can only walk into your school's building so many times while brushing past groups of chatting students before realizing that you're probably supposed to be socializing too. But you're not. Because you're Robyn and you're not normal. Why aren't you normal? God knows. Maybe you have a hormonal imbalance. (Maybe you're wearing a shirt that is ordering the world to "gimme pancakes!") You've never been able to make friends easily, yet you've been lucky in the past by somehow making at least one really good friend, which is all you need. But you don't feel the right vibes here, so you're just...screwed. And you don't have anyone to accompany you to the sketchy part of Paris to see an awesome Swedish band, so you'll probably stay home on Friday night.

Funnily though, the only time I ever made friends effortlessly was in Taiwan at another international school, although with a much larger Chinese student body than AUP (which, like Taipei American School, is labeled an American school, but is more like an international school that uses the American education system). My history class of around 10 students may be composed of 50% American students (or less). Anyway, I thought I had a point, which is now long gone.

I've only been here for one and a half weeks—it's not as though I'm throwing in the towel. But. I know myself fairly well and have the feeling that my doomy fate is inescapable. Luckily there are unlimited easily accessible things to do in Paris or elsewhere in France/Europe. If I were stuck at a place like Vassar, I'd be ready to jump out of my window.

I want to change. And I don't want to change. Argh. [stares at the wall]

Yesterday night was my last dinner (a truly awesome one at that, which I'll talk about later) with Morten and Giso before they went back to Norway. As the line 6 train rolled into view, we pulled together in a quick group hug and said our goodbyes. They were the only really good friends of mine that visited me or would be able to. Of course, I'm lucky that they happen to live an inexpensive plane ride away (and that I live in a city worth visiting). I don't have any other visitors to look forward to. It's over. Nada. Beedoop. The next thing I have to be excited about is possibly visiting some Internet friends who live in the London area. It's so close! I could go multiple times if my heart desires and my wallet doesn't implode.


I'd probably go insane without the Internet.

Oh wait, I'd probably be more productive without the Internet. Gotta do homework. Now. Sorry for wasting your time with this non-food entry. Next one will be full of mouthwatering photos and the like. I promise!


I hobbled off to my bed that is a whole 36 inches away from my desk and thought of some addendums. First off, this was a shitty entry for anyone thinking, "Wow, I'm gonna read about the girl who eats everything!...wait, what is this crap?" Also, I do enjoy being here despite the few mental road blocks. If I feel kinda down around my "campus" (aka, general splodging of buildings around a bunch of other buildings), all I have to do is walk to a boulangerie/patissier (POUJAURAN!) and be reminded of how awesome the French addiction to freshly baked goods is. I'm easily contentifiable. And I like making up my own words.

It's good to move to a new place where you don't know anyone. You can't rely on anyone else to make you happy, to do things with you, to entertain you, blahdeebloopblah. Of course, I'm overly comfortable here, living with a great American family in a beautiful apartment,, I lost my point.


Oh my god, I won't leave you alone. Check this out:


I really want that shirt.


It's 2 AM (I didn't update this blog's time zone, so just believe me, okay?). I don't know why writing about my lack of self-improvement makes me feel better. "Hey, I'm super flawed, YEEHAW."

I was working on my computational environments homework (uh, the name is something like that), I think I'm doomed! Let's make the program draw a circle, yeah? And draw a square, yeah? And...[scratches head]...donkey kitten...

Brain cells quietly exited my skull as I stared at the Imagine Logo screen. What the hell am I doing?

For some reason, when I lose brain cells I think more about my flaws. It is super. One major flaw I have is that I kill flowers...not on purpose, but from neglect. Did you know that plants need water to grow? Hot shit! I walked over to my windows to close them due to the dry scent of cigarette smoke ('tis the smell of Paris) wafting into my room from someone on the floor below, at which point I noticed that my once beautifully erect and glowing pink flowers had all fallen over as though they had been stepped on repeatedly...after getting hammered at the local pub. Repeatedly.

Flowers only make you happy when they're alive.



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