So tonight I tried taking my guests to a Parisian club. It was quite short lived. We arrived, me dressed quite apropos...them...well, quite "not enough"...especially since Parisian bouncers are a lot harder on guys. Yeah, so we got turned away.

But that didn't stop us. No siree...we went to another club, which only played house and techno. It was horrible. I hate techno...house isn't much better. Or at least not their house.

I was gonna do a long post about my night...but now I'm just too tired. I'm already tired of not just being me...and doing my own thing again. Playing hostess...because I have to play it...if I could just be me, well...that'd all be nice and dandy.

Suffice it to say that we soon ditched said depressing "club" and moved on to a seemingly promising karaoke bar. During one of my few songs there, some random dude comes into the bar and starts riling the place up and yelling and just acting like a drunk f*ck. Which would be fine...if I wasn't already making an arse out of myself. I just frankly didn't feel like being extra humiliated. But those of you who know me...know my luck. Or lack thereof. Yes, humiliation. Yes, trauma. Trauma

Toujours la poisse pour moi.

No more karaoke there for a while. And definitely not at that place (Bastille karaoke). After that life-altering experience I just wanted to leave, but made sure to, as roughly as I could manage, bump into the guy upon exiting the bar. Take that fothamucker!

I suppose this little event made me steaming mad because I hate looking stupid because of things other people do. I do enough on my own...why do other people have to add their two-cents into the mix?

Coming back from CDG airport the other day with my friend, the machines weren't working properly, and a bunch of Parisians were just jumping the barriers. This once I decided, ey what the hell...and we did the same.

Of course, this once we were "controlled" in the RER, and charged a total sum of 60E, Sixty euros...(there go my new shoes)...I tried explaining the situation and wheedling out of it, but in the end the guy was a complete ass. I had stabbing fantasies for the rest of the day...and didn't full recover from the whole incident until five drinks and two Irish car bombs later that night.

Sometimes life just gets you down. And it had been going so well before that. Perhaps I'm not meant for the pressures of being a hostess because I always feel like such a failure...I think, man, they're having the worst time, this is their first impression of Paris, damn I don't know crap...It's a lose, lose...lose situation for me.

Now, totally broke, and still unable to fully confide in anyone...I blog the superficialities of my thoughts, at least to get them out of my system. I am fed up with clubs, bars, random strangers and idiots. Fed up. I just want some good friends, good food and drink...good times. Perhaps that's too much to ask for. The sadest thing is that who knows if I would really truly be happy even back at Berkeley. I don't know...but I don't even think I really would. It's quite easy to become nostalgic and romantic about former memories...but next year will actually be quite hellish academically, and socially (most likely) trying, per usual.

I feel quite out of it currently, like the universe is spinning around me, perhaps it's the post-alcohol, post-trauma/excessive walking coma that I am currently in. It sucks to come back home to this:

Mom: Hi LYLT
*** Auto-response sent to Mom: toujours la poisse...
Mom: Just want to let you know I took care of your collection agency stuff... hopefully they will follow up the medical ins. and not bother us again.
Mom: Hope you are doing well.. I have not spoken with you for some time..
Mom: I really miss you. take care.. if you don't want to talk to me. That's ok.
Mom: I am always ready whenever you are.. I love you.
Mom: Bye

...and to not respond because one doesn't know what to say, how to say it, how to feel, not a damn thing. I don't even know if I can feel anymore.

I was speaking with my friend today, and I was telling him that I have totally given up in finding a guy...yeah, I have jokingly superifical very short-term hopes. But, in reality, I know there's no one out there for me...at least out here. I've give up the search. In a way this is good. In another way depressing. I've also given up the hope for you know what, with you know who...or anyone for that matter.

And dammit, I don't know what to do. I've been able to cut it off entirely, voluntarily this time, much more easily this time...with SRB (self righteous bastard) aka JACK aka Bastard. But it's his birthday today (in like 4.5 hours in the States)...and I don't know what to do...Be true to myself? Be true to the kind of person I should be, want to be? What's classy? What's right? Where's the line between emotional abuse and letting yourself be emotionally abused?

Aw, f*ck it. I have no clue, not about anything.

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