L'arte. Les histoires. La vie.

Have you ever noticed that life, is art?
Paintings, are art; poetry, is art; architecture, is art; furniture, is art; fashion, is art; talking, is art.
People are art!
What is art, other than a story, after all, that is how art began. Not all stories are intentional, and often the most intimate histories are those told after the individual’s time. That seems to be the case because then their stories are not designed for an audience, but are instead told without their consent. Honesty is scary, so listen to what people do not realize that they are saying, if you are interested.

Learn stories, by opening your grandmother’s closet, visiting vintage stores, going to the Louvre to look at ancient Greek coins, or a Egyptian woman's mirror, that looks now like a reflective surface! A saved lock of hair, worn in a locket next to a picture, can more intimately connect you to an individual that you will never meet, than any artist’s calculated composition.

Some, typically less popular, art museums exhibit Chinese common bowls from the Ming Dynasty. Domestic objects, like these were habitually used, not unlike the ones that Americans regularly fill with Coco Pebbles!
Let that marinate, and get back to me.

People tell stories during and after their lives, and their histories take on countless forms. Art is traditionally studied through paintings and sculptures, but why stop there, because those can be just as deceptive as textbooks. “History is written by the winners,” ring any bells?

Art communicates, although its meanings vary, and are never definite. Even if an artist had a particular story in mind, it is not always true. Then again, what is truth, and who ever conceived of such a ridiculous concept? Can we ever “truly,” “know” a “fact”, because I believe that there is no such thing as certainty. Life is ambiguous, despite profound revelations and scientific discoveries, which are constantly “corrected,” by the way.

Art does not have to tell truths, however, if you start to examine art as histories, which we use for truths about the past, then art’s definition, and “purpose” get more complicated. Life is complicated, so art should be, as well, which leaves us at a good place, I suppose.

Art isn’t just about past stories, but it lives within the clothes, tv shows, cell phones, and even water bottles that surround us today.

When it comes to individuals, every one’s story is worth telling, regardless of its length. People are remarkable, and accomplish remarkable things. Diverse individuals make history rich, and worth learning, in the first place. It is all about the human connection, because we all want to feel linked in our humanity.

Families are universal because they contribute to our histories. Families’ differ, even within cultures, and individuals differ, within families. No two people ever have the same experience, in my sense of the word. An “experience” is in internalization of exterior variables, or basically, how individuals react to his or her surroundings. These reactions are another form of story-telling, or art, if you are patient enough to observe.

People tell stories in the most subtle, and unintentional ways. The outfit on the person, standing across from you in the metro is communicating. The way a person looks, or avoids looking; touches, or resists touching; speaks, or remains quiet, is insightful. You can really get to know a person, before they even utter a syllable, and in fact, the language barrier in Paris taught me to notice people. I cannot always understand what a stranger says, so I use alternative sources, like his or her body language. If you really think about it, half of the time that people talk, they are mostly filling up conversations with words. They might not be meaningless, however, they are arranged for your interpretation. When people do not know that you are looking, or learning, about them, that is when you begin to see who they really are, and not who they want to be. I am convinced that no individual is entirely content with himself or herself, and they are constantly “correcting” themselves for others. Conscious self-improvement can be wonderful, however, much it complicates how we understand people, and their stories; and therefore, how we understand art.

Life, or art, thrives on ambiguities, and being examined beyond generic definitions.

(My apologies, if you endured my entire philosophical enemy) = )

Vas-y! Go ahead!

I might have already touched on this subject, but it is so important that I will risk redundancy. The trend, so far, is that every new lesson that I learn in Paris surpasses all of those previous, which makes the latest no exception. For the past two months, I have progressively changed my habits to accommodate a Parisian lifestyle. The slightest alteration to my former routines seemed like radical gestures then, however now I realize how small my steps have been. “Small,” “incrementally,” or “gradually” are actually a wonderful adjectives that enabled me to come as far as I feel today. Ironically, I will look back at this moment in perhaps a week, or two, and similarly feel as if I had not even begun to loosen up yet! Regardless of what I may or may not believe in the future, right now, I am convinced that I am more flexible than I can ever recall being in the past. Then again, I imagine that I was a relatively laid-back infant, as long as I was fed, rested and loved. What an amazing lifestyle that must have been, by the way, although I tragically cannot recall a single detail! Let me re-orient myself, because I seem to have veered off course, so please excuse my nostalgic indulgence.
Sticking to the theme of indulgence, I have envied my friends and family members for the longest time, who are capable of literally taking-care of themselves! What does that mean, exactly, and how have I lived nearly 22 years without this basic survival instinct, well, believe me, it is possible! I am still alive, hence, I have sufficiently survived, and however, I would argue that I wasn’t always exactly living the entire time. Allow me to explain what I mean by “living,” because I now define the term slightly different. Life is not all about pleasure, of course, and yet, it is fundamentally tied to humanity! Put rather bluntly, why habitually deprive yourself of butter and refined sugar, when an occasional croissant aux chocolat will not harm you, and will only make you smile!?
“Selfishness”, despite its egotistical connotations, is fundamentally human, not to mention that it is not actually as evil as it sounds! You do not need a reason to stumble into a boulangerie with a friend because you are craving something sweet, nonetheless, you innately do, because you are a human, or are you not? I would argue that if you do not occasionally permit yourself minor “infractions” to your dietary regime, than you are skipping the “living” bit, typically associated with being a human being!
Food’s universality makes it an easy example to explain the mentality, which is incrementally replacing my formerly rigid one. Yes, there will be times for abstinence and deprivation, but the next occasion when you eye a dessert in a store window, think twice about exactly why you aren’t slowing down. It is possible that your rational stems from similarly self-denial tendencies that could use correction, as well. Besides, if you don’t start to appreciate yourself, then why with others ever follow suit?!

Mes experiences a Paris. My Experiences in Paris.

02/03/11

I am determined to take a positive lesson away from all of my experiences, from now on. There will be no regrets, after all, what is past, is past, so there is no point to dwell over what could or should have been done. Instead, I will learn about myself, and about other people through my mistakes, which will profit me in the future.

Since I arrived in Paris, I have encountered all sorts of interesting situations and people, from which I have only acquired a small pool of knowledge. Together, Paris and I have been a dangerous combination of a busy city, and one of those foreigners who is often in the middle of its mayhem. I have quite the collection of stories after only two months, most of which were not pleasant at the time, however amusing they seem in retrospect. I remember the time, for instance, when the lining of my nice leather boots tore, as I was trying on a dress in a Zara. It would have been unfortunately enough if I had only ruined my boot, but the fact that my heel was trapped inside the hole, which was strategically arranged so that I was unable to either remove or slip it, only added to the adventure. Who else can claim that they had the extraordinary opportunity to hop around a Zara in Paris during the soldes, trying to discreetly remove a boot, other than myself, I would like to know?

After much determination involving a pen and my finger, I dislodged my foot from my boot, only to discover that was only half of the night’s battle. Buying a pair of shoes in Zara seems simple enough, and yet, I have learned never to assume, particularly when I am alone in Paris. The painstaking process involved multiple trips, hobbling up and down the stairs with only one boot, realizing at one point that I had purchased two different size shoes, so it was actually a good thing that I had to wear them out of the store! My struggle to find a pair of shoes was only a slight set-back of the evening, and the final scene consisted of Hayley searching for the belt to her coat that had magically vanished during the shoe-related insanity. Needless to say, the Zara’s staff is most likely still entertaining its co-workers with stories about the silly American, who spent an hour wondering around the store with only one shoe! Just in case that was not enough entertainment for my fellow Parisians, I noticed a guy smirking at my feet on my walk home, which is when I realized the white Zara tag prominently hanging from my new black shoes. I still had at least ten blocks to go before I could crawl into my bed, but at least that terminated the day’s excitement, as far as I am concerned.

This particularly humiliating moment taught me a few things about myself, as well as shaped my new mindset not to expend so much negative energy over petty dilemmas. There was a friendly French couple and a pleasant dinner conversation to greet me when I returned home, so it felt silly to dwell further on my embarrassment. After all, it could have been much worse, and my shoe could have torn late at night on the metro, instead of in a store that sells shoes! I handled the situation relatively well, all things considered, and I eventually left the store unscathed, except for the few marks on my dignity, but nothing irreversible. Plus, now I have a comical story to tell at the next awkward mingling party that I find myself dragged to by family or friends!

Hold tight for more of Hayley’s Parisian adventures because the list goes on..

L'etrangere. The foreigner.

Another important aspect of living in a foreign country is fully immersing oneself in the culture. Your own cultural habits will only slow you down, if you stubbornly cling to them as a foreigner. The funny thing is that cultural habits are often so subtle that it can take awhile to realize that they are the reason why living continues to be frustrating, in addition to why you continually feel so foreign. When you really think about it, you feel like you fit into a place when your habits generally resemble those of the people around you, and when they easily fit into your daily routine. For instance, in Paris it is not common to bring your own lunch, even to your university, while Americans pack their lunches all the time! Yes, it is possible to make a sandwich at home and bring it with you in a container, but it is not the French thing to do, and therefore, it is a pain in the ass to do here!
To an American, it seems like a perfectly healthy and economically sound alternative to the crap that is available at most cafes, but things in France are different! It is possible to go to McDonalds, and yet, a Big Mac is not exactly on the typical Parisian’s menu. In fact, the popular “fast food” in Paris consists of a fresh baguette and a few slices of ham, and cheese, or eggs, lettuce and tomatoes for a couple euro! Basically, it only makes sense to abandon your American compulsion to pack a lunch, and to embrace the delicious sandwiches that are prepared for you by your local boulangerie! Your uniquely Parisian lunch will bring a smile to your face after only one bite, and you will realize why the French choose this option, instead! Now, you don’t have to fuss in the kitchen, or bring a bigger bag to carry your lunch, and you spend more time walking around the city to find the perfect sandwich! Plus, you don’t feel so strange, as if you are doing something wrong by not acting French in France.
You will never be French, regardless, but if you really want to learn more about another culture, then you must learn how they live by following suit. Eat what they eat, speak what they speak, and do what they do, to better understand why they think and act so differently. That does not mean that you should completely abandon your own traditions, but there is something to be said for actually getting the full experience in another country. You can always go back to your country and easily return to your former habits, but will you want to after a few months, that is the question. If you never try to adapt to another way of life, then how will you ever know which lifestyle works best for you? Culture is important to its members in order to feel a sense of belonging and comfort, and is that not what most individuals inevitably seek, after all? Maybe you have “belonged” to the wrong culture for your entire life, and you are about to discover one that feels more homey than you could ever imagine! Maybe you will eventually return to your origins, but not until after you better understand a different culture, and you learn exactly why you appreciate your own!
That also does not mean that as an individual, you should not be bizarre, weird, or different, but merely that you should consider the things that distinguish you from others. Don’t be weird by obstinately packing your own lunch just because it is what you are used, especially if it only results in unnecessary frustrations! Choose to be weird because of your passions, and or, because your quirks truly set you apart from the ordinary person! =)

Les mots. Words.

One of my most important lessons that I have learned since being a foreigner has been the importance of feeling appreciated. When you arrive in a new country, without any previous ties or relations, it is essential that you make every effort to find some good friends. For some people, it is difficult to admit that they need other people, but that is what makes us human beings. The reason why even the earliest homo sapiens formed civilizations is the same motivation for why we continue to do so today, and the same goes for close relationships. Perhaps the specific incentives vary, and yet, the fundamental concept is that humans thrive on contact with one another. What is the point of knowledge, material goods, or even life, if there is no one to share it with, or whose envy contributes to its value? It is a basic concept that similarly explains why individuals feel lonely, and or seek the companionship of others, because otherwise life has no value. Humans require acceptance from others in the shape of families, friends, lovers, neighbors and co-workers, whether they acknowledge this dependence, or not.
The challenge that I struggled to understand for years is why should one consider it a weakness to need other people, especially since it is part of our nature!? It is not strange or embarrassing to show others that you love or appreciate them, and to desire similar actions in return. You only harm yourself more in the end, by continually isolating yourself out of comfort and fear of being hurt. I have noticed an annoying pattern that the most challenging obstacles in life are the ones that are the most worth pursuing, because they render the most rewarding outcomes.
Another key, is that you can still be independent, while enjoying companionship from others. When it comes to personal relationships, for example, there is a difference between being an independent person, who occasionally enjoys solitude and piece of mind, as opposed to completely distancing others. I have yet to meet such an individual, who is truly content in his or her social seclusion, despite his or her insistence. Besides, the act of bragging about one’s independence is ironic, is it not, after all? If a person were truly un-reliant on the esteem of others, then they would have no need to convince others of their own stability.
The third and often most challenging aspect of relationships is learning how to show others that you care about them, which is a gradual and intimidating process. In my opinion, the first, and probably the most terrifying step, is to be open about your feelings, as well as to be willing to listen to those of others. This is particularly frightening because in the beginning, you have no idea whether the person will accept or reject your feelings, however, you will never learn which individuals are worth sharing your thoughts with, unless you make the effort. Once you have exchanged your sentiments, there is the equally important matter of supporting your words with actions. Even I will admit that words alone do not sufficiently convey certain sentiments, and that there is nothing more powerful than a good hug! Simple gestures like affectionately touching the shoulder of a friend, or even acts as daring as holding hands, say more than any well-intentioned phrase or a well-written letter.
Lately, I found that the more information that my friends have about me, and that I learn about them, then the stronger our relationship becomes. I also realized how amazing and insightful hugs or body language are, and how you will only profit by requesting hugs from friends. In fact, you will instinctively recognize subtle signs of reciprocal affection, or the lack there of, which only physical contact conveys. If you want my advice, then say more when it comes to reservations about yourself, and say less and hug more, when it comes to showing others how you feel about them.

Paris, je t'aime!

Paris has stolen my heart and sole, and that is the only explanation for my recent failure to blog! It is disappointing to myself, as well, but Paris is like a drug and I am officially addicted. I won’t be able to enjoy it for long, which is why I am already reluctantly watching the days float away on the Seine. I feel as If I cannot breathe in enough of the delicious aroma emanating from the boulangeries on each and every street corner, or appreciate the taste of French cheese and baguette enough to fully pay homage its well-earned recognition, and yet, I am suddenly obsessed with Paris and its amazing treasures, as I fall victim to its irresistible seduction!

I am beginning to realize, however, that as much as Paris is a uniquely remarkable city, I cannot attribute all of my recent happiness to the specific location itself. It is true that my taste buds are constantly tingling for more of the most basic Parisian meal of a baguette with a few slices of tomato, lettuce and cheese, and my heart constantly leaps each time that I have a successful conversation in French, while it is equally true, that I am increasingly discovering the warmth behind the typical Parisian’s initial scowl or judgmental look, which is more of a cultural effect than the result of bad temperaments. Then again, I am convinced that the fundamental reason why I am constantly high on life here is Paris revolves around the sole factor that I am no longer in America! Like I alluded to above, the particular Parisian culture is enticing, however it is not actually croissants and stylish pedestrians that are keeping me awake with excitement at night. In fact, at least two-thirds of my enlightenment, if I dare to even compare my sentiments to such a spiritual revelation, is due to my utter dislocation from my previous culture and lifestyle for nearly 22 years! The simple reality that my American routines have been replaced by not necessarily better, but different habits sufficiently liberates me from my former self-destructive tendencies.

At home, it is easy to obsess over silly concerns, and attempt to over-control familiar situations that do not constantly bombard me from unsuspecting faces and languages. Here, it is different because I am living as an exchange student in France for the first time, and therefore, I never really know how to manage, and or even approach situations. I immediately learned that any effort to control a strange circumstance, which I do not even fully understand, is an amusing idea, instead of a possibility. While I am most likely not smiling while I misuse the word for “condoms” in French, it almost always makes a wonderful story after it has been sorted out and or, it is in the past. In the very least, after every time that I have felt lost, frustrated, or generally confused in Paris, I learn something valuable about either myself, or about another perspective on life. Paris has taught me to relax and to enjoy my confusion, so far, because after all, why are the adjectives “chaotic” and or “messy” readily associated with negative thoughts? Uncertainly, fear, loneliness, vulnerability - are all essential to life, and make truth, rapture, love, and strength so uniquely rewarding, and worth stumbling around in the dark to find. Every other day I smile, frown, laugh, cry, fall, or soar and as a result, I am doing what humans were meant to do – I am living – but not just anywhere, because I am living in Paris!

Brain Fart. Pet de l'esprit.

Why are human emotions so irritating and so uncontrollable sometimes? Since I arrived in Paris I have focused almost all of my energy on maintaining positive and not letting myself giving up. If I am lost and don’t know which direction that I should be heading towards, then I am the only person at that moment, who can figure it out! I suppose that I could give up, but then what would I do, freeze to death? I suppose that I could decorate an alley for the rest of my stay here in Paris, but I imagine that alternative would quickly loose its appeal, as it gets progressively darker outside, not to even mention hunger and or fatigue. I’m sure that I would never cease to be entertained, however, because there is always an interesting person, place, and or scene unfolding in the streets here. Plus, I can rely on the constant inner-workings of my brain to amuse me, and which have become more and more problematic with the language barrier.

When it comes to my English to French translation difficulties, I suffer from an unusual urge to fill every space with my own thoughts, and I have little, if any control over subject matter and frequency. I consequently begin a new thought before I can fully translate my last, and it drives me insane, as I spastically utter clauses, without the correct and corresponding phrases. It can apparently be amusing to watch, and yet it continues to frustrate me, as I genuinely desire, but fail to communicate to my unsuspecting audience with this unusual spectacle! Lets add it to the list of oddities and reasons why it tends to be so difficult for me to socialize with other humans, who aren’t used to my insanity. Family is more inclined to accept and or tolerate one another’s lets say, more “quirky” habits such as this, while friends have the liberty to choose whom they deem friends, and whom they simply ignore. That alone has been another valuable lesson, which has taught me the true value of friends and what qualities to look for in an individual, before I add his or her number to my French cell phone.

This tangent, by the way, is the perfect example of my inability to complete one thought before another, and equally important one comes screaming from behind, and demanding my immediate attention. So you see, that I am constantly fighting multiple battles when I try to speak French, and often times I am exhausted before I have even uttered a phrase in “Franglish”, really, because its not quite French, at the moment! My comprehension has drastically improved, though, which is useful and boosts my comfort level enough to continue my pathetic efforts to actually speak French!

Back to what I was writing before, finally, about remaining positive in my everyday mentally, as well as physically strenuous struggles to adjust to life in Paris. The positive attitude comes with the territory, I believe, because if I have to do something, anyway then I might as well pretend that it is fun, or at least that it will be okay. So far, it has always been okay, and I am usually surprised by how much more than okay it turns out to be! This being the case, then I have continued with my positive attitude because I believe that it yields marvelous results, as opposed to being negative all the time. If I choose to be negative, then I am wasting my time here in Paris, because then none of my efforts, thus far, would have been worth it! Trust me, there have been overwhelming efforts on my part, and many more where that came from, which is all the more reason to stick to my mentality. After all, being happy is more fun than being sad, wouldn’t you agree? But I must say, enthusiasm uses more mental energy than just being sad and pathetic, which takes little to no effort, at all! All you have to do is go outside and encounter a disgruntled pedestrian cut you off in the street, or get in traffic on your way home from work, and in minutes, you too can be angry, and or frustrated! I try to examine exactly why I feel so enraged, though, when a shopkeeper is unpleasant, or when I generally observe people being unkind to one another in public. Usually, I concentrate on the reality that it is pointless to get upset, after all, the situation is over, while my remaining anger only punishes myself, and not the person who I feel like deserves repercussions! The same goes for being lost and or unable to communicate, so I take a breath and relax, go for a walk, if necessary, and suddenly the haze begins to clear, and I am left feeling refreshed and ready with my flashlight.

All of the work is worth the effort, in the end, and I would rather be exhausted, but happy, then perhaps a little more energetic, and grumpy!