Tuesday, December 18, 2012

So This is Christmas, And What the Hell Have You Done?

That is always what I think when I hear this song. I feel like it comes on just so Lennon or Sarah McLachlan can personally ask me to reflect on my life choices.


"Ahhhhhhhh!? What the hell have I done!?"

And I am pretty sure I miss the point of Christmas every year when I am manically making a Christmas List to email my mother. And I am worrying about which sizes of things to ask for, and whether the list will be too absurdly expensive, and what else I am forgetting to ask for, and how I will end up getting everything back to New York.

Basically, Christmas makes me selfish. And now I am an adult, apparently, so it is time to do whatever it is adults do at Christmastime.

Unfortunately, I still feel like I am exempt from having to buy people gifts. My dad still says I can draw him a picture. My mom's biggest wish was for me to make a dentist appointment before my insurance ran out- which I never did. I normally buy my sister some nail polish and my brother a weird book from Urban Outfitters about poop or something.

I also still delusionally feel like I am allowed to be a christmas-kid because I am the oldest of my siblings and all my 750 first cousins, so I am still lumped with the kids/teenagers' Pollyana. My mom buys the gift for me to give to my 14-year-old cousin.

But last year, thanks to reading The Grinch Who Stole Christmas 40 times while babysitting, and crying at the end each time when he is standing on that cold mountain at dawn with his reindeer-dog and hears the Whos singing below even without their presents... "Carrie why do you cry when we read this?" "It's just a beautiful Christmas story, ok!?". Well, I started sensing that I had better become an amazing person, fast.


...so I Googled "Christmas Charities" in early December, and donated like... 20 dollars each to two Christmas Charities. One was for children whose parents are in prison.... (?) and the other one... I can't remember. That was actually a lot of money for me because my bank account is always at war with that $100 checking account minimum. But... let's be real, poor people should not be giving back with their money, they should be giving back with their time and love (or something amazing like this).

... though you bet I still made a manic list (on Amazon Wish List- with links to everything, and notes detailing sizes/colors, and also notes explaining WHY I wanted certain things like some sort of campaign. What am I? 16!?)

***

So, John and Sarah.... 

This is Christmas, and if you insist that I reflect, What Have I Done?


Let's lead with some positives:

-I... did a show where I got to do a scottish accent, which semi-fulfilled one of my life goals. So that is good, I guess.

-I moved to a new apartment with my best friend in Washington Heights- in order to be able to fully support myself and stop being a little baby. So that is also pretty good.

-However, for the move I used absolutely all of my savings. Actually I still had $400 until last week, now I have $300. The minimum is $250. Living on the edge.

-Relatedly, I started taking the subway no-matter-what.

-I..... once and for all, stopped thinking that a stupid alternative diet was going to cure all my earthly woes. Started eating a lot of ice cream. That was good.

-I got an office job, for many reasons, and also to show myself that I am dumb to take my super-exciting life-as-an-actress for granted.

-I cried every morning on the subway for a whole week when my favorite character from Downton Abbey died, while listening to a playlist I made called "Mourn". That was concerning, actually.

-That same week made me think that I had to become a funeral singer. To help other people mourn.

(Interestingly, earlier in the year I actually sang at two real funerals. One for my Grandfather, and one for my Aunt's mother. Neither of those experiences made me decide to be a professional funeral singer. But the death of a fictional character? Yep.)

-I realized that I have no shoes that are comfortable except for clogs. This continues to be a huge problem.

(Fun fact: one of the reported reasons the Grinch may be so mean is that this shoes are too tight.)

-Started doing some weird bunion preventative exercises. Stopped doing them.

-I read a book on creativity and started writing like maniac in the subway every morning to unlock my creativity. Whether it worked or not is debatable and hopefully To Be Determined.

-I gave up coffee for a few months- which was the worst thing I ever could have done.

-I considered moving to Philly, but didn't. I considered doing volunteer work, but didn't. I considered doing match.com, but definitely didn't.

-I quit my water addiction. I am not kidding. I had a water addiction for probably about 10 years, but didn't know of course because what the hell? Something to do with electrolytes.

-While leaving a restaurant, talking to a friend on my phone, and mindlessly searching in my bag for my phone- I freaked out and told her I lost my phone. Went back into the restaurant, on my phone, and said to the host: "I think I left my phone at the table!!!" They went to check and as they came back I realized I had instead lost my mind. Why my friend didn't just tell me right away: "Caroline you are on your phone, with me", I do not know.

-I got an American Express card in order to earn points on groceries that turn into cash rewards, but haven't used it yet. Partly because I accidentally signed the magnetic strip instead of the signature line.

-Went on some unexciting dates. That is always something I tell myself when I am like, "Caroline, you are a hermit!" "No I'm not! I went on some dates!".

-I decapitated a huge 3-inch cockroach at my old apartment- where I lived alone and so I had no choice. I used my "Simple Diary" and threw it at the thing while it was running psychotically at me. Instead of cleaning it, I just threw out the diary and the smashed bug body, and found the head/antennas all the way on the other side of the room the next day. That was... one of ... the lower points of my year.

- For the first and hopefully last time, I fell asleep with all the lights on, still in my sparkly skirt, curled up in a ball on my bed because I had had so much to drink and too little to eat at my Thanksgiving Eve Reunion-thing. According to my brother, he noticed the light on and came in to put me to bed: "How was your night, Caroline?"- "Stupid", I apparently replied. Couldn't I have done this in college? Or during my summer in Dublin? No, this was when I was home for Thanksgiving, as an adult.

***

So, Sarah and John, as you can see, though I am another year older, things are still looking pretty questionable. Assuming we don't all die tomorrow when the Mayan Calendar ends- I am going to try to be way more amazing in 2013.

And what will I do about it now? I told my mom after I wrote this post that I didn't want any gifts this year - and really meant it. I was going to focus on giving instead- because I have decided to become amazing.

But she ignored my declaration, and last week she sent me a few emails asking me if I was going ever to send her a list. But I didn't make a list! So, I stuck to my selfless guns.

But then she started texting me for my list. Why wasn't she letting me be selfless?

Then I caved- and yesterday I went on Zappos and sent her links to like 10 different shoes just hoping one of them will be comfortable enough for my Grinch feet.

So, oh well, we will see.

I guess all I have left, as my last chance to be amazing and giving this year, is to remember to tip the mailman.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Sleeping Pill Dragons

Over the past few years, my sleep quality has gotten worse and worse.

But I shouldn't be so surprised- because at this point my father sleeps about 3 hours a night- and he and I are very similar. We bond over: coffee, wine, and how little sleep we get. (he gets way less than me still, thank god)

A few summers ago during college, I was with my family at the shore. Earlier in the summer my dad had given me one of his prescription sleeping pills "just in case", but I put it in my makeup bag and didn't use it for the whole summer. Because, you know, I like to consider myself very responsible and functional and holistic. Think yourself happy! Think yourself calm. Breathe and alllll willlll beeeeee wellllllllllllll.

But one hot night near the end of August, I had come home from a party, lay in my bed with the fan blowing on my face because my mom doesn't believe in air-conditioning, and had to take off my pajama pants because it was so hot. As I lay there, my mind was stuck on a dumb boy situation. I was replaying some lame conversation in my head over and over... (It was probably something like, "Caroline, pick a card" "ok!" )... 12:45 am.... ("was your card the Ace of clubs?" "wow! how do you do that!?") ....1am.... 1:30 am... ("You are amazing at card tricks!" "thanks").... 1:45 am. That was enough. It was time for the sleeping pill.

I hopped quietly out of bed so I didn't wake up my sister who was sleeping in the same room, found the pill, and took it.

Yesssssssss. Now I will sleeeeppp.

I lay down, and immediately started to feel my mind go black and blurry. But consciously I thought, "WAIT! I just want to think about this conversation for ONE more minute!" And I forced myself to stay awake in order to recall the same dumb conversation.

I purposely resisted the sleeping pill.

And then cartoon origami dragons started swooping in towards me with my eyes closed. Wow! What is this!? I opened my eyes and they were still swooping in at me! This is amazing! They were cartoon- but they were chinese-origami-type cartoons. I have to tell Margaret!



So I got out of bed in just my underwear and started shaking my little 12-year-old sister.

"Margaret! There are dragons EVERYWHERE!"
"What?"
"There are dragons EVERYWHERE! It is amazing!"
"...Caroline?"
"I need to go tell Shane!"

So I left my room in my underwear, and went downstairs to my brother's room to tell him about the dragons.


When I got to his door, I was searching for the doorknob on the wrong side of the door.

"Shane!!!!! You don't have a doorknob! YOUR DOORKNOB IS MISSING! ARE YOU IN THERE? Why don't you have a DOORKNOB???? This is SO WEIRD!"

He opened his door groggily. "Caroline?"

"Woaa...", the sleeping pill turned on me, "There are like- dragons and demons all around you!"
"What?"
"There are dragons and demons right here, you don't see them?"
"What?!"
"Oh, weird Shane. Goodnight."

And I went back upstairs, and my mom was waiting for me in my room because my scared little sister went to get her to tell her I was drunk.

"Caroline ARE YOU DRUNK!?" she whisper-yelled.
"No, no I just took a sleeping pill and there are dragons everywhere"

Then she made me chug 3 glasses of water because I put my life in danger by taking a drug after I drank- and also I am a "horrible example for your sister!"

"No mom, I just resisted the pill because I wanted to think about the magic trick and then there were dragons. I didn't really drink".

I explained it better in the morning- and everything was fine- except for Shane- who is convinced to this day that I saw real demons around him.

Also, my friend Annie and I will now dramatically whisper-yell to each other, "ARE YOU DRUNK?!?!?!", which can be funny in any and all situations. Try it.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Don't Talk, Don't Eat, Suffocate

I have recently been going back and editing and deleting dumb posts with pictures of blurry sandwiches where all I say is: I ate this sandwich! Yum!

But this post I just found was called "Missing Missing - Lost on a Cliff" (and I actually have no idea why- oh its because I started the post by saying "Sorry I have been MIA").

It was about a yoga retreat that I went on over Halloween 2009. This is all I wrote:

I just got back from a 2 day yoga retreat over Halloween in the Catskills. It was amazing and beautiful and ... scary (not halloween-scary, but more like I-am-going-to-slip-off these-rocks-and-fall-into-this-waterfall kind of scary).

And also, I am-going-to-starve scary. We had a day and a half of "the master cleanse" fasting on this retreat. Except I cheated and ate my trail mix at night alone in my room like a criminal. 

I was worried to do the fast because... of the obvious. But in the end it wasn't too bad for me because it was only really one day. And also because I cheated. 

Some crazies are apparently still doing it in the comfort of their own food-free apartments. But not me.

So, now let me take the opportunity to reveal some things I, weirdly, forget to mention:

This retreat was cool, and the area really was beautiful... however, not only did we not eat, but we did not speak. It was a silent retreat. Which actually was fantastic because I didn't know anyone and didn't need to spend any energy to get to know anyone. 

But actually, it wasn't silent on the bus ride up, and I sat next to this girl Holly who had just been dumped by her boyfriend of ten years, moved from California to NY on a whim, and was trying to start a cheesecake business. Basically she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But it was a blessing that I didn't have to talk to her after that because, nice as she was...

I also didn't tell anyone that I was going on this retreat. I vaguely mentioned to some friends that I would not be around for Halloween because of a yoga retreat. But I pretty much just left on a whim and went alone. But then realized I should maybe text my mom on the way up in case I died.

Me: FYI on bus going to yoga retreat for 2 days
Mom: What?

It was also the yoga studio's teacher training retreat that just happened to have some extra spots -and I randomly signed up two days before (because I was in yoga, and very stressed, and they announced the open slots and I had found the answer: THE MOUNTAINS!). So all the trainees knew each other, and even though we were ALL silent, the randos like me and Holly were truly the outcasts, and if people could have talked that would have been even more apparent. But I had no idea what was going on, and would often forget the schedule, and then couldn't ask anyone, and found myself walking around lost on a path in the woods at night by myself because I forgot the way from the lodge and didn't remember which building I slept in. Oh well.

We just starved in silence. And then almost died on a hike where we climbed up and behind a waterfall. These stupid yoga instructors were acting like they were trained hike-guides and I can't believe no one died. We walked across a nearly vertical, wet mud drop by holding onto a rope they threw across to some psycho who Tarzaned his way over ahead of us. And I had to sacrifice my water bottle because I had to start using two hands if I actually cared about staying alive.

But the crazier part by far, was the Native American Sweat Lodge ritual thing, that you were very heavily pressured to participate in because it was a "transformative experience". You are basically sitting on top of people you don't know, so close that your face is in their hair, in a small dark tent, too small to stand up in. The tent has molten rocks in the middle and they pour water over it to create steam. So basically you are boiling in the dark- and the air is so thick with steam you feel like you are suffocating. And you are crammed into this hut in the middle of their religious celebreation/ritual and you can't move because it is rude, and you are sardined in there, and also there is that molten pit in the middle. And it is pitch black and you still have 2 hours to go. And then they chant and you are supposed to chant along with the firekeeper master of ceremonies. And I actually did chant along because it took my mind off of the fact that I was dying. 

thank you, Google Images

This was the only part of the trip where we were allowed to talk. (Because they knew there was a chance of mortality) It was actually in the news the month before that someone had died in a Sweat Lodge Ritual. The firekeeper assured us that whoever was running that ritual that killed people didn't know what they were doing. Though still, the actual point of it is to induce suffering, and then to spiritually transcend the suffering. Ugh. 

I found myself digging my hands into the mud like they suggested, because it was relatively cool compared to the burning air. I also had to close my eyes, because it was less scary than having them open but seeing nothing. There were a few people who had to escape and never came back in during one of the few 5 minute breaks where they open the tent flap. And I wanted to so badly, and I had to pee, but I was on the far end. Actually I recall strongly considering peeing right in there, next to people into the mud we were sitting on. We were all so drenched, no one would have noticed. And plus it sort of felt like the end of days, so who cared. But I didn't. We were also strongly urged to stick it out, in order to experience the amazing and transformative experience.

I also now remember, that during the ceremony, Holly, who I hadn't been around since the bus (she wasn't in my group) started bawling- loudly. And all we could do was sit there in the dark, suffocating, and chanting, while she just cried for like a half an hour. 

And when I finally came out I was impressed that I wasn't dead- only lightheaded. If their purpose was to give my life fleeting perspective by inducing a near-death experience, I guess then it kind of succeeded. Except I knew I had done it to myself/they had done it to me, so... I was just mad. And soaked.

I actually can't believe I did that.

I also cannot believe I wrote a post about that retreat and didn't mention the near death experiences (starvation, cliff falling, and suffocation.)

the actual place. Menla.
I would definitely go back- if I could eat, and drink, and sleep- and talk- and do whatever the hell I wanted- and where suffering isn't the "goal".

...and actually, I don't even remember doing any yoga.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Avengers, a love story

I can usually only handle watching Romantic Comedies and Children's Movies because I feel like movies are actually happening to me. If I stray from those genres, I suffer. I watched the horror movie Seven in college, and by the time the movie was over I had a fever that lasted a few days.

Is that not normal?

Though recently I have been thinking I should maybe expand my movie tastes to include Action Movies (since I saw the James Bond movie Skyfall and loved it.)

So after the kids I babysat last night went to sleep, I watched The Avengers.

So, basically by the same rule above, Super Hero/Action films make me feel like I can actually do anything. Want to mug me in a dark alleyway, scary man? Bring it on. Want to fight me on the top of a moving train? It would be my pleasure. I am trying to think of more scenarios but I haven't watched enough action films. Give me time.

(Let me be clear: NOT war movies. Those are the worst. Terrible things happen in those. I am talking about pure fluff. I need a fantasy where my upper body strength is unbelievable, the villain is very evil, and there is zero chance of dying.)

***

I had very high hopes for the film, based on what I had heard, but here were my problems:

I hadn't seen any of the other Marvel Comic films that lead UP to this movie- and I had no idea what was going on - or who anyone was.

Not to mention, action films also have horribly inconsistent volume levels. And I had to keep the volumes low because the battle scenes sounded like they were actually bombing the living room and kept waking up the 9 year old. So, I couldn't hear what was being said in the conversation/information scenes.

"me"

Also, action films make me sure that I will work out really hard from now on, so I can beat up any and all evil people. During the course of the movie I did about 22 pushups, which is a lot.

I tried to keep adjusting the volume to understand the plot, and not bomb the living room, but it was interrupting my pushups, so I had to make a choice.

Not being able to fully understand the dialogue, this is what I picked up on:

Iron Man is a douche. And Gwenyth Paltrow was in his apartment. Love story? Heard no dialogue.

Captain America was frozen, has 1950s' hair and pants, and doesn't know about modern things like Pilates. He is old fashioned and seems kind.

Iron Man is a douche to him.

Thor/Chris Hemsworth was weird God, had a hammer, and his brother was the movie villain: Loki. In real life his brother is marrying Miley Cyrus. So... both villains of sorts.

The bad guy's name was Loki- which was very hard to take seriously.

Robin from How I Met Your Mother was an Agent Maria something. I saw her looking longingly at Captain America.

No clue who Jeremy Renner and Alexander Skarsgard's dad were supposed to be, but their minds were taken over by the evil Loki at the beginning of the movie.

Can the Hulk control his actions when he is the Hulk? Very unclear.

Somebody named Agent Phil died halfway through the movie, and it was supposed to be very sad.

Samuel L. Jackson played some boring boss agent with an eyepatch.

No idea what Scarlet Johansson's character's deal is- the Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff- but she was definitely my favorite part. Because of her, my arms are very sore today, and I kept on looking into the mirror during the movie with a dramatic expression and pretending I was a badass Spy-turned-Avenger.

***

It wasn't as good as James Bond. But I won't rule out the genre just yet. It could be really good for my upper body strength.

***

The End of this post.

***


Oh are you disappointed that I didn't give a synopsis?

Well. Basically, (Spoiler Alert!) Loki is really jealous of his brother Thor because he was adopted and not blonde like him, so he turned to the Aliens. He comes to earth and takes over Jeremy and the Swede's minds with his scepter. 

While Jeremy and Eric's dad do his dirty work for him, Loki is just kind of shitting around and lets the Avengers lock him in a clear cage that is able to be ejected from the space station. He taunts them from his cage and watches them not be able to get it together or get along (mostly thanks to Iron Man, the douche). He eventually escapes somehow, kills Phil, and sends Thor tumbling to the earth to die in the clear cage. (He doesn't die)

Meanwhile, the Hulk is attacking my alter-ego, the Black Widow, then jumps on a helicopter and also crashes to the earth, only to later wake up naked in front of a confused old man. 

Jeremy and Scarlett are battling, and it is very intense because I have gathered that they are supposed to be in love, and then she knocks him out- which returns him to his own mind. Lovers reunited! (I think, I couldn't hear any words/plot).

Loki has some blue light energy thing that makes a portal in the sky and lets Aliens and huge boney Sea Turtles fly down and attack New York City.

The government sends a nuke flying to NYC, but Iron Man surprises me and bravely carries it all the way through the portal, blows up the Alien's station (which somehow kills all the Aliens on earth too), and falls back through the portal just as Johansson closes it with Skarsgard's help.

The Avengers win and Iron Man irreverently wants to eat some Shawarma.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Trees, Sounds, Squirrels, Selfish Philosophers

If a tree falls in the Forest, and no on is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

The obvious answer to that is YES.

Of course it makes a sound. What a stupid question.

Does the sound matter? That should be the question.

So, let's see:

If a tree falls in the Forest, does the sound it makes matter?

I guess No, but only if you don't care about the squirrel family that was rudely awakened in the next-door-tree.



Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Do You Think I Am a Bratty Lesbian?

My Mother is convinced that my "questionable and confusing internet presence" is going to be the cause of unwanted spinsterhood and lead to my dying alone, probably while writing one last, weird, not-funny blog post.

Apparently I am repelling men, not like the original Man Repeller with fashionably androgynous clothing choices, but with my Facebook, Blog, and .... one Youtube song.

Because apparently, the horrors that all these (phantom) men find on the internet when searching my name (like this blog) are just too bizarre to look past.

Because this blog makes me look like an insane brat. (I just always assume people will know that I am kidding, but according to her, they will absolutely not.)

Because, "Caroline, hun, this day and age when the best way to learn about someone is the to Google them, think about what are they going to find on you! And then your only song performance on YouTube is about an angry woman being "Over You"- it is going to make people think you are a scary witch!". And when she says witch, she means bitch. (Not fair, because there is also a shoddy and whited-out recording of me singing "Songbird" at Joe's Pub, which is quite the love song.)

Because when I was in college, and she thought that my Facebook wall made me seem like a lesbian. I commented "I love Ellen!" on a video that someone posted on my wall of Ellen Degeneres. And another post of my freshman year roommate making a joke about "when am I going to see you again and make sweet love?".... To her, it was obvious that this was the reason that some boy -who I forget about now- wasn't texting me. I got a concerned Facebook message from my mom: "Caroline, Are you trying to repel every boy in New York!?!?!?!?". Let this teach us all why we should not be friends with our parents on Facebook.

Also, because: "You never even talk about boys on your blog! That will confuse people!" (yes, I guess I do like to keep a mysterious a-sexuality to my blog).

And no, no one reads my blog.

Basically my mother missed her calling as a "Romance P.R. Consultant & Internet Presence Critic" and so she is giving her services to me for free, whether I ask for them or not.

*

I have heard her go on about this internet-presence-thing for nearly a decade now. And- I even see her point at times. There may be small grains of truth in her absurd worries (I do sort of make myself look like a horrible and crazy person) and I am fully aware of all the things that she considers to be very undesirable. But even with that knowledge and awareness, I still choose to write those undesirable things anyway. So it is apparently a chance I am willing to take.

My mother is trying to protect me from myself and my reckless self-portrayal. In her eyes, I still haven't learned some essential lessons: you shouldn't write your 'diary' on the internet for everyone to see, you shouldn't assume everyone understands the unfunny and subtle jokes you are making at your own expense, and you also shouldn't assume that men aren't obsessed with Googling you to decide whether you are worthy and normal enough to pursue.

But portraying myself as a slightly worse-version-of-myself makes me laugh, and so for better or for worse I am going to keep doing it. And whether I have 4 friend-readers or 100,000 male-Googlers, I will keep on keeping on, making 5 cents a year from Google Adsense.

And luckily for her, she will probably be the only one to read this post.



Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Self-Help Books I Have Known

Whenever I am reading a self help book, I wonder why I ever waste my time reading chic-lit or mediocre comedic memoirs.

Self-Help books are the best, because for about 1 month I am self-helped! I am nicer and happier and more optimistic! It really works! For like a month! Then I return to fearing the world and being miserly with my money and being jealous of people I barely know.

And I figure....a month here and there of being a good person is better than nothing.

Here are a few that have been so amazing until I forgot all about them:

The Secret
I was a freshman in college (and a crazy 'raw vegan'- ugh) when I read The Secret (and watched that dramatic little movie) and realized: Yes, I WAS going to be rich and famous like I had always hoped, as long as I obsessively cut out pictures of things I wanted and put them in a little tin box. Actually I printed them off Google Images, THEN cut them out: Pretty houses. Pretty clothes. Theaters. Skinny people. Strawberries (?). Dramatic Parisian looking balcony tablescapes. Cobblestoney places. Anthopologie looking displays. Gardens. Old Bikes. I believe there was a picture of a rustic, english country mudroom strewn with tartan Wellingtons. I got stressed because if I ignored one part of my life, then it wouldn't HAPPEN, because I wasn't actively manifesting it. Right? So I cut out sillhouettes of happy people in relationships where you couldn't see the faces because it could be ME. Even though the concept was so weird and I was too chill for that desperate ridiculousness. Right? Anyway, in the end, many many happy models were living inside my tin box, manifesting amazing things.

I couldn't make a vision board and put it up like they suggested because that was SO embarassing. It would even be embarrassing if anyone ever opened my box and was like What the Hell is This, Caroline?

Then through The Secret I convinced myself that I should stop being a raw vegan (good) and instead think myself to health and beauty (sort of good). So I started eating cupcakes all-day-every-day, sprained my ankle when my brother tried to double bounce me at my cousin's First Communion, and lay in bed all summer eating chips and trying to think myself healthy- and instead gained like a million pounds.

Well, anyway, this was the beginning of my foray into Self Help Books.

You Can Heal Your Life
This is written by a woman (Louise Hay) who cured herself from cancer by thinking happy thoughts. The main lessons of this book are: to forgive everyone, be positive, and ...other stuff like that. She has a whole list of mental/emotional causes for physical ailments- which is what I primarily focused on- because I hated the idea of her waking up and drinking green juice and lying on her stretching board and THEN thinking happy thoughts. I just wanted to wake up and eat a chocolate breakfast and think happy thoughts. Here are some examples I just googled:

Sore throat – feeling unable to express some message in words, holding in unpleasant words
Leg problems – being uncertain about the future
Pain in the lower back – concerned about money, being uncertain of future money inflow
High blood pressure – being too emotional, unable to find emotional release
Flu – letting others control your life, not thinking for yourself
Hip problems – fear to make important decisions
Indigestion – dreading future events

Just recently I had debilitating upper back pain for about three days. Apparently I am holding in my love. Isn't that nice to know? Sort of?

The Power of Now/ A New Earth
These are both written by Eckhart Tolle and they both essentially say the exact thing. In fact... I have never actually read The Power of Now (but I did actually steal it from the book shelf of my alternative doctor in college -and never returned it becaues I never went back -because she never healed me -and I got tired of taking homeopathy). And in truth, I only read the first 3/4 of A New Earth. But I really was the happiest, kindest, most trusting person you have EVER met for over a month, until I went to Dublin on a College Summer program, and was having a hard time bonding with my roommate because I was so kind and boring and accepting of everyone. (I mean really. That is boring to be around.) When I finally caved and started doing my usual impressions of everyone and making fun of people behind their back, she loved me all the more, and then God smited me by giving me vocal nodes. I'm not kidding.

Working on Yourself Doesn't Work
This is a nice little paradox of a Self-Help Book. This is written by a husband and wife who searched the world for inner peace. Yoga, India trips, meditation, self-help books, affirmations, and realized that none of that shit helps.

The only way to not be a miserable drama-queen is to live in the moment and - that is it. It is a really short book.

However, their "live in the moment" prescription isn't just like, "YOLO!!!!!!!"- its more like "no like, actually live in the moment, like don't think about the future or the past or the not real" (yea RIGHT). My #1 favorite activity is walking around with my iPod (now I guess its my Phone with Spotify) and living in stories that aren't real. People on the street probably think I am crazy or very sad. Or very happy. Normally it is some drama, and the music is my soundtrack. Or in the (distant...) past, it was that I was introducing the Weasleys to muggle music ( and they LOVED IT). Or often I am pretending I am singing the songs that are playing at some logistically impossible to put together Cabaret-of-sorts, performing for anyone and everyone I want to impress. And all the songs were assigned to me by some benevolent song master, so I don't get embarrassed by the love songs.

So, really, it is impossible for me to live in the moment because then I would start live my own life and what would I fantasize about when I walked around?

What I am really trying to say is, if I was forced to live in the moment I would never exercise.

****
I have read (many) more. But I think I will save them for a rainy day post.

I will leave you with this: One thing I will never forget - is this book cover. I never actually bought or read the book because I chose another Self-Help book that day at Barnes and Noble, but I still think about it all the time, and fantasize about the day when I finally do read it- and then can rule the world from my couch.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Holy Caroline

Me

i had this whole story in my head about what if I had immaculately concepted a child
and had to convince the world that I had
and nobody would believe me
"it is ok caroline, you don't have to pretend its an immaculate conception"
BUT IT REALLY IS!

Annie
hahhaha thats why everyone thought mary was lyyying

Me
i know i understand her so well now
or actually
the other half of my story is what IIIII would do if I immaculately concepted
I would be so upset
like does one abort a miracle baby?
jesus #2?
hahahahahahahahahaha
i can't believe i am saying this

Annie
sorry i am looking at COURSES
schedules. online research
jesus

Me

Jesus? you mean my baby?

 little prince of peace

Saturday, November 3, 2012

I Hate Google

You know how Google is using our searches and preferences to bombard us with ads specifically tailored to us?

Well, weather.com made that VERY CLEAR TO ME when it presented me with THIS:


The Big Girls' Bra Sale- the day after I ordered a very specially size bra online. Thank you Google, for helping me remember one of my least favorite things.

Then I started paying attention to Facebook ads, which do the same thing, further proved to me by the following ad for the exact shoes I had just been looking at a few hours before. Followed by: SINGLE & CHRISTIAN? 

The day I join a website called "Christian Mingle" is the day you should shoot me in the hands and take away my ability to browse the internet. Also, YES I have been on a lot of dumb diets, Internet, but unfortunately for Medifast, I have put that all behind me and "embraced" my natural form. Hence my needing to order a new, absurd bra-size (above). 

The internet must think I am really into dating and dieting/exercising. And eating. Probably dating because of that short time on okcupid. Ugh why does that judgement call continue to HAUNT me?! But no, I don't want to join an "internet dating/exercise" website.



And finally:
Ouch. After all that, you think I am a man?

Prostitute Dreams

I know how much everyone loves hearing about other people's dreams, so I am going to explain a dream/nightmare that I had the other night for your reading pleasure.

In the dream, I learned that I was now a prostitute (of sorts). And I was waiting on a large bed with another prostitute for our "clients" to arrive. We were wearing baggy, early 2000s looking t-shirts and jeans. We were very apathetic and low-energy.

I am surprised how resigned I became to my new job right after I learned about it in my dream. There was a sense that I had no choice, so maybe I was a sex slave and I was too afraid to fight my new life-position. Who knows. But I felt quite apathetic waiting on that bed with the other apathetic, early 2000s-clad prostitute.

Then my client entered the room -and it was a chihuahua. I was half relieved and half annoyed. I asked my prostitute colleague if this was for real. She shrugged.

Then all of a sudden the Chihuahua turned into a small dog-sized Tarantula and jumped on the bed beside me.

Oversized Tarantulas are apparently where Dream-Prostitute-Caroline draws the line with her clientele, so I screamed and hit the spider off the bed.

And then I woke up.

Phew.

Friday, September 14, 2012

The Posts I Never Wrote- Part 3

Third part of my featured aborted posts:

Title: Now I Realize Why People Went To Church
Intended Contents: I was so excited about this one, I remember. I felt like I had a revelation about people going to church more fervently in the olden days because it was way less boring than their stitching and farming, etc. etc. But it turns out when I started to write it, it became obvious and not interesting.

Title: Haircut: What I Learned. UGH
Intended Contents: No idea what I learned then, but I should write a new post inspired by last Saturday called- "Self Haircut: What I Learned. UGH." Where what I learned is: "Don't cut your own hair, especially if it is already short."

Title: Things You May Forget to Clean
Intended Contents: All I wrote was: coasters.

Title: My Hair Is Too Healthy
Intended Contents: But that doesn't mean it looks good.

Title: Miserable Ramblings of a Teenager with Serious Disordered Eating
Intended Contents: These were actual journal clippings from my 17 year old self writing to myself in all sincerity in my "food journal". I guess I thought it was funny because it was so absurd that I truly felt that way and wrote those things.... but upon further reflection it was maybe a little too.... dark. Here is an example-


Title: Skinnygirl Margarita- More Bethenny Lovin'
Intended Contents: I think I was right to abort this.

Title: Mole: Good Spot NYC
Intended Contents: Woa! We are all the way back to when I thought I was a food blogger!

Title: I'm Changing the Purpose of This Blog
Intended Contents: Never wrote anything. But the purposed changed from pretending I had any sort of order in my life- to focusing on the lack of order in my life.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Posts I Never Wrote: Part 2

(Continued from Part 1)

Title: Tina Fey- Knobby Knees
Intended Contents: I showed my dad a scene from 30 Rock that I thought he would like. And all he said was: "Wow, she has knobby knock-knees. What a shame."            !?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Title: Oh My Aching Feet!
Intended Contents: Aching Feet.

Title: Politically Responsible
Intended Contents: No Clue.

Title: Zen Love Guru
Intended Contents: Probs about how I give amazing and insightful love advice to my friends, yet I have no business doing so because my greatest love affair has been with a block of cheese.

Title: I Mis-Counted the Men
Intended Contents: A quote from 30 Rock, here referring to how " I have had a serious drop in readership in the past day since changing my blog name. I guess there were some strangers who used to read my NonQuickOatmeal blog....". Awwwwww. Then I wrote "Non-quick Oatmeal" about 200 times in an attempt to trick Google search.

Title: Goodbye NYC, Until the Dark Months
Intended Contents: Was going to PA to do a show for the Holidays. Decided it was too boring to write.

Title: Normal Gas
Intended Contents: In NJ where you can't pump your own gas, I asked for "Normal Gas" instead of "Regular"- and I felt dumb.

Title: Don't Be A Hero
Intended Contents: No idea. Be a villain? Oh, I just read it. It was about how I called 911 for the first time in my life when I heard a horrible, menacing, blood-curdling screaming fight between a man and a woman on my street. I was a hero that day. I actually thought I published it.... don't know why its a draft? Oh... because I had a facebook chat copied and pasted into it, but the pictures are all little Question Marks now and it looks junky and unprofessional. I guess I decided it doesn't fit the high standards of this blog....

Title: The Droid and I Don't Type Well Together
Intended Contents: It gave personal examples like: "he just happens to be representing my favorite thong EVER" and "You ate a god". Funny stuff. Should have followed through with that one.


To Be Continued.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Posts I Never Wrote- Part 1

Yesterday as I looked through my Post Drafts I saw a lot of terminated creative endeavors.

I will honor them by wondering what the hell I thought I would write about:

***

Title: Match.com
Intended Contents: No idea. Probably that "my friend is doing match.com and is making it sound fun but how could it be".

**

Title: Kitchen Trauma
Intended Contents: This was going to be about the cockroaches that began invading my kitchen in my crumbly studio. And wearing shoes to bed, etc.

**

Title: Mania
Intended Contents: Different kinds of mania- my top examples were going to be Cab Mania: holding the money in my hand the whole time, watching the meter the whole time and jumping out of the cab so quickly so they don't get mad at me for wasting their time. Cash Register/Wallet Mania: Why don't they give you the necessary time to put your money back in a civilized fashion? I stuff my money in there and scram like the store is burning. Why? And Ice Cream Mania: eating ice cream really fast because its melting.

**

Title: No Sandals or Pedicures
Intended Contents: Probably about how I shouldn't wear sandals because I don't get pedicures.

**

Title: Free My Legs
Intended Contents: A case against making beds - because having tight, tucked in sheets is very constraining for peoples' (my) feet. And one has to mess it all up and free their (my) legs anyway for quality sleep.

**

Title: I don't know anyone's name
Intended Contents: True.

**

Title: How to Clear the Street
Intended Contents: Talk Outloud to Yourself

**

Title: Why Can't Everything Be in the Same Place?
Intended Contents: I was talking about social media. Not interesting.

**

Title: Posture: Gargoyle.
Intended Contents: I sit like a gargoyle at the computer.

**

Title: French Women Don't Eat in Bed
Intended Contents: I thought I wrote a post about this? Oh I did. I had a draft too.

**

Title: Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
Intended Contents: No clue. Maybe talk about how much I love Lisa and how much I hate all the other women.

**

Title: Ponytail Chic Bar Times
Intended Contents: I wrote this at 2 am. after a bar and published it, but then the next day I got an email from my only reader: Mom, who told me it was potentially offensive. Rather than edit it- I reverted it to draft and haven't thought about it til now.

**

Title: Practical Purchases
Intended Contents: Eh? I have buyers remorse but end up buying weird things? Probably.

**

Title: Meditation and Hunting
Intended Contents: I want to be a compassionate zen meditator and a ruthless animal slayer.

**

To be continued.

There are too many to put it all in one post.

Friday, July 20, 2012

IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE RAINING?

When it is raining, I immediately check the internet weather forecast to see if it is actually raining.

My first response to rain isn't a simple: "It is raining."

Instead it's: "Is it supposed to be raining? Does the internet agree that it is raining? If so, how long is it supposed to last? And will the internet change it's mind? How should I plan my walks with or without that heavy and unruly umbrella? How long should I be ok that I am not doing anything today? Should I feel guilty for sitting inside? Internet: speak to me".

That way I know whether to be mad or accepting.

For instance:

"UGH, it was NOT supposed to be raining. How dare it."

Or

"Oh man, it seems to be raining? Ah yes, and the internet confirms that it is raining, and also that it was supposed to rain, and is supposed to continue all day. Ah, well. Best watch some more HBOgo"

Sometimes I check every half hour to see what the updated supposed forecast is. And let me tell you. It changes all the time! That Hour-By-Hour forecast does not make up it's mind.

If you want to be on top of the weather, I suggest you stop trusting what is happening, and start wondering if the internet agrees with what is happening, and what it says is supposed to happen. And check often.

The benefit to this, is that when you are with someone and the conversation falls flat, and someone inevitably says: "Oh this weather....". You will be able to say... "Oh the internet said it was supposed to...... but instead it........ when it began the internet said that it was supposed to be......... how weird and frustrating!"

Basically, you will have a lot to say. And people will be floored by your attention to details and how much you know about the weather/internet.






This also works for extreme heat, or any other weather condition that you would like to complain about and/or attempt to micromanage.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Full Length Mirror Fail

Yesterday I had my first real-job interview that wasn't for an ice cream shop, a restaurant, a babysitting job ... and wasn't an acting audition.

I have this mildy appropriate dress from Anthropologie that my mom told me looked like a "Mom's Easter Dress" as she tried to talk me out of buying it.

Mom's Easter dress? Perfect. Perfect for the office!

Geometric Daisy Dress
this is not me.


But here is the real problem: I don't have a full length mirror in my apartment. I wish I could say its because I am like the Beast, who has no mirrors in my castle because I can't stand to look at my hideous form. Sometimes that is actually true. But that is not why I don't have a full length mirror.

There was a full length mirror on a closet door in the kitchen that I removed so I could fit a refrigerator inside. Because I need a lot of food stocked at all times. And the mini-fridge that everyone assumes is a dishwasher, was not cutting it.

And since I removed that closet door and put it in the overhead sideways storage closet, I have not had a full length mirror for 2 years.

1. Sometimes I use my photobooth video recorder as a full length mirror. That proves to be very strange and vain when I watch back a movie of myself. Well- only vain if I decide my outfit is acceptable. And just kind of sad if I decide I need to change it- because then I have to re-record a video -and it takes a LOT OF TIME.

2. The other thing I do, is stand on a flimsy wooden chair and look in my half mirror that sits on my dresser. This doesn't show my calves or feet, but it is better than nothing. I have known for a while that there might be some fatal ending to this practice, because the chair is very fragile, and I am very clumsy.

Well, yesterday, that day of days, it was 15 minutes before I was leaving for my office audition, and I was standing on that flimsy chair, and I fell. And in springing into action and landing on my feet instead of my neck, I ripped the bottom of that Maternal Easter Dress. I had no other dresses available in my closet because they are all specific to helping me look like Mary Poppins or Maria Von Trapp, etc.

So I wore it anyway - with a safety pin that hid very little of the rip.

Interview-wise, I think the photoshop test portion went alright, but the proofreading test was no bueno. I got a little comma happy, and started trying to wonder "how many typos would one logically put in each paragraph on a test proofread?". Also, if you can tell by this blog, my punctuation is questionable.

Moral: Get a full length mirror. Keep the babysitting job.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

I Only Sleep In...


I saw some girl on the street wearing a t shirt that said "I only sleep in Pink". It was so weird to me, that I am going to write a little post on it.

Tell me why Victoria's Secret has adopted "Pink" as a thing?

Why?

Anyway, I think its dumb, and I certainly don't understand why anyone would limit themselves to only sleeping in Pink when they could branch out to Monkey Boxers.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

French Women Don't Eat in Bed

At a certain point, no matter how many self help books about being chic you read, when you are at a dive bar trying to keep up with your high school friend who is 6'1", and you are being handed your third champagne-in-a-can with a chambord mixer shot on the side, after already having 2 strong gin and whiskey drinks (whyyy?) .... things get ugly.



This is what I am trying to say: At a certain point... you wake up at 6 am with your head in the salad bowl you brought into your bed for potential throwing up. And you wish you had because in that case you would feel much better.

And it is at this point that, for whatever reason, you realize again you are not the kind of girl who throws up the day-after-the-night she wanted to throw up. Oh no, you are hungry. 

And so after wondering what the best plan of action is, and tapping into your ever-wise savoir-faire, you decide to eat granola lying on your side with your eyes closed until your pillow is littered with oats. And once all the big chunks are gone you keep going even though you are essentially just playing with granola dust.

It is essential to eat, because you are starving, and it is the only way you will be able to fall asleep again. 

Also, the ibuprofen you just took mandates that you to eat.

And you have to wonder about those idyllic French Women and their savoir faire... if in the same situation, can you tell me that they wouldn't do the same?

Eh, they probably wouldn't.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

How to Become a Successful Blogger

Over the past year, this blog has made $0.23 on Google Adsense.

If I was worried about my financial security before, I can finally sigh a breath of relief.

I'm on my way to becoming a professional blogger, slower than the opposite of the speed of light.


(No, I won't give you all the secrets to my success.  But basically, just follow your own heart, passions and talents. The amount of money you make will be relative to your heart, passions and talents (mine are worth 23 cents). Also, ignore all the advice to connect with other bloggers and readers, because I had SEVEN whole page views yesterday, and I don't worry about that stuff at all).

(Also, you can do stuff like add lots of pictures, make your text big so old and stressed people can read it, have catchy and misleading titles, and also include inspiring content)

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Your Higher Self

On my quasi-quest for spiritual enlightenment, I have encountered many detours. And then I often forget I am even on this quest at all. But then something I read, or my own anxiety, or occasional misery will remind me- and I get back on.

The problem is I rarely stick with any practice long enough to see whatever positive benefits may be waiting at the end. But, I guess, there is no end. Except death. And that will apparently come with many benefits unless I am stuck here as ghost. And I hope not.

But back to my Quest

I read a blog last night about some woman doing a meditation and calling on the Higher Self. The all knowing, all-loving, and magical version of ME. And then, in the meditation, asking the Higher Self to take a form and then asking it for a message.

First of all, I assume this blog woman I was reading about is very good at meditating, which, I am not. I just basically lie there and take a nap, or lie there and have my eyes twitch while hoping that some inner peace is being born inside of me.

So, first of all, I probably don't have the ability to just order my Higher Self to appear to me, because I am not actually getting quiet and reaching my inner self ANYWAY.

But, I tried. I lay there and got quiet until my eyes weren't twitching anymore, and then I said in my mind: Higher Self, take a Form!.... And a few seconds later I had the vision of a starbucks barista. And I kept lying there waiting for my Higher Self to take a form. And then I realized: My Higher Self is like a Starbucks barista. It wants to get my order right. And if it doesn't it will make me another drink FREE OF CHARGE.

Then I thought: "But, I get so stressed when I am waiting for my drink if I have ordered a complicated one! I don't trust those baristas!"

And my Higher Self seemed to say...... "Exactly".

My Higher Self. Awwwww
Deep stuff.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Sleeping Genius

Why do ideas only come to me when I am seconds away from falling asleep?

Am I some sort of sleeping genius? Some mad, creative, inventive entrepreneur-type who needs to start keeping a pad of paper and pen next to their bed?

I will have insightful thoughts like "what if I moved to the Bronx to save on rent and start a chicken farm?" and "What if I made a dirty martini out of sauerkraut brine instead of olive brine?" and "I need to clean my bathtub tomorrow".

(The answer about the sauerkraut is: The alcohol will kill the good bacteria anyway. Poo)
yes, apparently this is The Bronx

I mean, the thoughts just keep coming. They KEEP COMING. And, believe it or not, when I wake up in the morning, I do not remember them at all. The ones above were not ideas I actually had while falling asleep, because I can't remember any of those. I just made those ones up now.

So, I am going to start keeping a pad by my bed. Sure to be a millionaire in no time.


this is an example of some brilliant night-thoughts- you can't read it? neither can I


i had the genius realization that I am a sleeping genius. And also, I will be writing a post on cab mania soon.


If you buy this Dream Silk Terry Sleep mask below from Kohls, you will not avoid disruptive Sleeping Genius, but you will sleep in better and I might make like $0.02!

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Fifty Shades of Bad Writing

I normally love entertainment that everyone and their mom love. (Things like Harry Potter, Titanic, Twilight (only movie #1 though...), Wicked, True Blood, The Hunger Games, Downton Abbey, The Office.... and on and on. )


I am lame. I like girly-teen things. I like things that only people who generally want to avoid their own boring existence like.

My "likes" are not unusual. They are not unique. And all very much to my dismay, because I would love to be unique and forge new paths and start trends and stuff. That would be great. 

But, I just love the Top 40. 

So, in conversation with my friend, who just discovered reading (Yes. She just finished the Hunger Games, her first novel ever), the book Fifty Shades of Grey came up. She told me it is supposed to be the new big thing. The next Hunger Games. The only difference is- it's erotic fiction. Or ,"Mommy porn". 

I thought, "Oh! Well, I like True Blood and Game of Thrones and .... the song "S&M" by Rihanna! I can handle this". 

Also, I had to live up to my 'Top-40s' literary interests. So I bought it on my Kindle.

Well... nobody every told me that it would be written worse than Twilight, which was already kind of difficult to bear. Horrible dialogue and even more horrible inner dialogue and the most bland and unsympathetic characters. It is really horrible.

Really, really horrible. The sex parts are probably the best parts of the book, and still doesn't make the book redeemable.

I am proud to say, that even though I thought I would be lame enough to enjoy this book, I am not going to finish it.

(That's what I said about Twilight, though, and then I still read all 4 of them.)

Thursday, April 19, 2012

What I Have Been Doing With My New-Found Creative Energy



Remember how I said I was reading a self help book to unlock all this creativity???

Well, sadly for the world, after one week of creativity-self-help, this is all that was born. It is based on a real text that my brother wrote to my sister.

My mother thinks that it seems like 'brother Peter' is a creep. Which, I guess it sort of could...

He is just supposed to be a bad poet on the other side of the world.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Time Well Spent?

In order to shake up my routine and breathe some life into my brain- I took my day off to go to the shore by myself.

I drove down right after rehearsal yesterday night and spent some quality time catching up on Mad Men- only to find that now Betty and I share two things in common: non-comic weight gain and a benign thyroid nodule. (Those two things may or may not be related. Neither Betty nor I are sure.)

Brilliant.


I already rode my bike on the boardwalk and collected shells on the beach.



Not realizing that food might be an issue on my mini trip, for breakfast I ate ice cream I found in the freezer with peanut butter. Do not regret this, though maybe I should considering my eery connection to Mad Men's fat Betty Draper.

I just cracked open a green kombucha that I found in the fridge and it tastes like algae. Because it has algae in it. 



Also, in other news, I forced the shells I found into a mini shell-family to keep me company:


They have a little baby!

Sunday, April 15, 2012

What Should I Be When I Grow Up

Sometimes, one may come to a life-crossroads, and one wonders... what the hell am I doing and where the hell am I going.

And: what should I be when I grow up?


What should I be when I am ... 30? (not 24)?

Thankfully I am reading another Self Help book that promises to help me with JUST THIS PROBLEM.

Weeelllllll, the book is about opening up blocked creativity. But I am hoping it will instead make me extremely free and clear about everything always ever.

You know, like all the other Self Help books I have read.

One of my weekly "tasks" is to make a fantasy list of "Imaginary Lives".

"If you could live many different lives and be different things in all of them, what would you be?"




The point is not to necessarily list realistic things... but instead to enjoy your imagination. Because God Knows I don't know how to make cheese, be a wizard, nor do I apparently even know what marketing even is.

So. There you go. 

But I think I really got some clarity with the last idea on the list: "professional tree climber".

I am going to be a 40 year old professional tree climber- forging my own career path. Looking down at all of you from my comfortable spot high up in an oak tree.

....Maybe the hunger games has infiltrated my brain more than I was aware of...

Friday, February 24, 2012

Stuff Parisians Like

Getting a Kindle for Christmas was a dangerous thing. I drop money on Kindle books like woa.

One book I bought on a whim is "Stuff Parisians Like: Discovering the Quoi in Je Ne Said Quoi". It showed up under "Customers who bought this item also bought:" while I was amazon-perusing some other fluffy French-themed self-help books about unlocking my inner French Amazing Person.

"How-to-be-like-French-people" self help books are one of my favorite kinds. Even though, at this point I realize that it is all just an alluring and marketable stereotype. But, I am still a sucker for books about how the French know how to cultivate their lives with quality and voila they are awesome and adorably rude like only a cat or french person can be!

However, this book, unlike the other "Be Like a French Person" books- is written by a true Parisian. A Sommelier who jovially mocks the Parisian in all of their hypocrisies.

 imagined potential if only to read and implement these books

According to this Book:

He says, each "thing" a Parisian likes originates with their core feeling of superiority to all else. Also, Parisians are little dark rainclouds who poo-poo on everyone's happiness in order to not look enthusiastic like dumb Americans. "Bad feels good for Parisians". 

Apparently nothing is inspiring to them, "except maybe the idea of sailing" and....

NEW YORK.

They allll loovveeee New York. "It is every Parisian's dream to live in New York". "Nothing is more chic than having New Yorker friends." "When talking about New York, the French language seems to boil down to...: énergie, opportunités, dynamisme... grand, super, genial"

Are these the same Parisians who dislike everything so they aren't seen as grinning idiotes?? 

Yes, Yes they are.

Even though they genuinely hate Americans- they make an exception for Les New Yorkais, because we are different and super genial. 

Well la-dee-da.

I had better start living up to how cool the Parisians thinks I am.