little to no respect

that's what i have for a blog called one day, paris. a blog written by someone whose ultimate life dream is go travel to paris.

what's wrong with having a dream, you ask? nothing wrong with having a dream, i suppose, but i do know how much time blogging requires. instead of spending that time blogging, how about getting a(nother) job, saving up, and actually making the dream a reality?

also, there are the pitfalls of getting one's hopes up. and paris -- really? i've been there, honey, and let me tell you: it's kinda harsh. and not kinda harsh.

it's like a hand grenade fight

hey -- you're just in time to check out the monster dramz between my landlord and me. take a look:

Oh dear *****,

As you clearly do not recall, when my first contract expired in April 2008, I asked you for a contact to cover the summer months. As a foreigner in this country, I think it's in my best interest to have as much legal documentation as possible -- including where I've resided while I've been here. But you said it was no big deal. So my last contractually binding day as your tenant was April 30, 2009. This is something I have not forgot for a single day since I asked you for a summer contact last year, and it's why I am willing to pay for my incremental time remaining here, but I'm not under contract to give you an official notice and pay for all of August. Sorry, but that's the facts.

This is why I had been telling you about my intentions to move since I returned to Vancouver around June 24th. I said end of July, August for certain. I kept you updated of my progress and intentions -- this is not out of the blue. Then after our encounter this week you made it clear you wanted me to leave -- and I understood that as "asap" because I was otherwise constantly telling you I was moving out. I'm doing you a favor by leaving and offering you an honest rent when I am not actually under contract to pay you anything.

Furthermore, this hurts my feelings because I know you're not asking for the August rent out of a real need to supplement your income -- fdfdsdsfs if you really were on a tight budget, you would have had that 3rd room rented out for May 1st (and it would have been completely possible if you tried). Last summer when Peter left and you and I worked together to fill the vacany, I assume it was urgent, a vital part of your living budget. But when I asked as such, you said that no, you weren't as concerned about the money as finding the right tenant for a happy home.

On the other hand I can completely understand that two vacant rooms is a much more significant issue than one, financially -- I don't blame you. I had asked for an extended contract because agreements are worked out for both parties' best interests. I feel that I've been doing as much as I can to be completely transparent with you. Additionally, I really liked living in your home because you were really committed to building a happy home; since this is no longer a happy home (as you said, you feel "indifferent" about me these days), I feel that I'm making the best choice for all of us in me leaving quickly -- sure you may want the rent money, but nothing will be resolved while I'm still living here.

I'm finding this kind of funny in that I think we are each convinced of our own logic, and we think each other is a little bonkers -- sometimes that happens! I still think you're a cool guy ****-- it's too bad things had to turn out like this.

- Me

representing all white men

so i just finished reading a book called gringo by chesa boudin (he dated nat portman, oh my), and i can't help but think of what a ridiculously anglo-franco mash-up name chesa boudin is. chesa sounding like some cockney knock off of chaz, meaning charles to the rest of us. the any name with the _ou_i_ structure looks french to me (and then i start humming faux du fa fa, because fotc really knows how us anglophones think of the french language). it's as though boudin's parents tried to think up the whitest name possible -- and succeeded.

even though he does try to highlight the plight of mothers and children living in poverty, his exploration of the topic is understandably y-chromosomed. i know it was meant to be in a memoir format, but his brief tales of girlfriends and relationships sounds kind of cringey when he recounts how sexy one was the first time he met her (on an amazonian ferry boat). his whole stance on 'i care about the plight of mothers, children and families -- but i have no problem biting off a sexy bit for myself' gives me a case of the eye-rolls. i guess i doubt his altruism when he apparently feels entitled to personally gain from his devotion to the cause. i mean, if that's how he feels -- fine, whatever -- but your attempt to weave ideological and emotional threads came out more tacky than humble. 

i think this book is a modest start, and there's more to be expected of him. i think he can do better, get into it deeper, or at least express that personal aspect of his experiences. the politics are so tactical, onerous roll-calls of attendance, accounting for time... even though he does his best to leave an update of all in his narrative subjects at the end, his conclusion comes to the non-conclusive statement that this is just the beginning of what's happening politically in south america -- how this will develop will be seen only with time. he doesn't lead us, he doesn't give us a final thought.

there's something a bit douchey about the whole 'i'm a white guy but look, i can travel just like the locals! blah blah blah!' yea, we bet it sucks, but stop acting like such a war hero about it. yes, i've used rather dangerous public transit in my travels, but i do tend to take costlier options if they're genuinely safer. some ways of getting around are pretty damn dangerous and it's a bit foolish to play martyr about transit if you don't have to. you're supposed to use whatever you can to self-preserve, that's one of those key instincts, you know?

for instance, when i was traveling in peru, we were in a combi (van) driving rather fast (50 mph) down a valley road, lit only by mediocre headlights. we nearly t-boned a hugh truck hauling large boulders that seemed to be just sitting in the middle of the road. luckily i was in a situation where my transportation was on the safer end of the spectrum and we didn't crash. but i was in a bench seat with no seat belt, and i slammed into the seat in front of me. had i been in a less secure transport vehicle, i could have been in a multi-fatality crash. 

and how are you going to help people if you're dead? yes, be with the people, know what they experience, but remember what you're there to do as well. 

getting back to the point of boudin lacking a conclusion, we want to be lead -- bait us! people love a little gossip, your speculation is welcome.

it's not that i'm really a hater, because boudin's book is quite herculean task he's already pulled off. you can tell he's a rather bright guy, but his narratives are saturated with his issues (like the rest of us). then again, that's interesting because it's not every day i get to look at the world through the eyes of someone who repeatedly refers to himself as politically radical. sometimes it's those at the extreme ends that you find the saddest ideologies, these passionate idealists. is it just me, or do those types seem to always have one eye looking in the mirror? or maybe i'm just that bitter. well, the guy is doing what he believes, and that's better than a lot of us as is. 

maybe it's more that i envy him having a book actually written. god knows i have the material, and enough people have made that suggestion, and yet i tell myself that i don't know where to begin, so i don't. sigh.