Unruly, to say the least

I saw a French film today, The Man on the Train, and it was great. The story, acting, and cinematography were quite enjoyable, and it was also a chance to test my ear for spoken French. (I'm learning how to read, but not speak or write it.) Here is a list of words I could pick up:


J'ai = I have

presque = almost

jamais = never

chose = thing

quelque = some

oublier = to forget

banc = bank

peut = you can

mieux = better

baguette = baguette

Considering that the French language has more than 9 words, I still have some work to do before I can move to France and eavesdrop on the conversations of French people. Unless they are extremely concerned with being able to have or forget some better baguettes and banks.

Today was kind of a nice day, because, having been nearly drowned in our hatred (yes, sadly, hatred) of American culture (read: advertising, sitcoms, summer blockbusters and advertising), bad things were going to happen if we didn't get out of the house. The film was so good - simple, beautiful, funny - and we found a coffee shop with some freakin personality, finally, where there was a little Pug puppy, who, oh my God, was sleepy and therefore extra adorable, and he wasn't trying to sell us anything. And and and, there was a cool thunderstorm.

The college town that I live in has 3 school bookstores and not one - not one - non-textbook one. 16,000 undergraduates, no independent bookstore. Not even a freakin scaled-down Barnes and Noble. How is that even possible? There are two coffee shops, practically right next door to each other (Oh, and a Starbucks... shudder) but both of those are so sterile as to be painful to hang out in. Yards and yards of white tile. A college town coffee shop needs several hundred used books, mismatched furniture (that looks like it could have been hand-made) weird, colorful posters/objects on the wall, several rugs, beaten-to-hell easy chairs, hardwood floors, mardi-gras beads everywhere, and hand-lettered signs. Among other things. Art by local art students for sale. Very old dishware. Cute music and literature majors (of both sexes) working behind the counter. Late hours. A resident cat (or Pug puppy). I had thought that this type of coffee shop was prerequisite for a school's accreditation (sp?), but I guess not. Mon Dieu.

Oh yeah, I can also pick up mon Dieu.