 School in Paris is certainly not the way I had imagined it. I mean, of course I knew it would be different from my school in America, but really…I never thought I’d miss my American college…kind of scary to say, but I DO!! I don’t want to go home and cry to mommy or anything, but I guess this will get some taking used to.
 So for starters, it’s fucking small and spread out. It’s in a really nice part of town, almost too nice. Like I said, it’s comparable to New York’s Upper East Side…So, the real estate is entirely too valuable to just buy 20 city blocks to bulldoze and put in a campus like UNM, or even CNM. So, you have about 5-8 random buildings that have been annexed for the school over a 3 mile radius, and you’ve got to navigate the neighborhood to find your building, which can be an immense pain in the ass. The way I’ve figured it out is via landmarking with high end boutiques. To get to the main building, you pass the Dior store, keep going past BCBG and if you hit Ralph Lauren you’ve gone too far. For the secondary building, take a left at Burberry, if you see Chanel you’ve gone too far…so on and so forth.
 The schedules. BAH, the French must not enjoy the convenience of stability, a daily routine, or continuity…maybe it’s that their way of life is so spontaneous…probably not. I think the teachers must have had a protest and shut down the schools for 3 months until they were given the right to choose their own hours. The classes are hardly ever on the same days or same times, or the same rooms. So you constantly have to check your schedule wondering where you’ll be or what you have to do tomorrow, as opposed to having the American system of a pattern…psh posh. Let the confused expats miss some classes!
 I’m the fucking cultural ambassador. Since I’m in a business school, and America is one of the leaders in big business, we’re constantly talking about American companies and culture in my classes as examples. Most of my teachers are British or American so this gives me a one up against the other kids who come to class late, so I can kiss their collective ass in the native tongue…but this ultimately leads them to falsely thinking I give a really want to be there and talk about Americanisms (since I use it as an in). So, now that the teachers and I have a sort of cultural alliance (unlike most students) whenever an American company or facet of life is mentioned and the teacher asks the class [everyone else from Asia or Europe twiddles their thumbs unbeknownst to what the terms ‘green washing’ or ‘collusion’ mean, so I answer these questions happily at first.] Time goes on, I’m expected to answer every question since I speak perfect English and everyone else is afraid to speak up. It starts to get old. In addition to that, all the teachers who are not American are fascinated with our way of life and try to put gross generalizations on everything. “You all love MacDonalds”, “All of your families were poor Irish and Italians a hundred years ago”, “you all live like they do in T.V.!!” No, that’s bullshit. I then have to give the “America is a melting pot” schpiel they didn’t get in 2nd grade and further explain that we have 50 states that are all quite diverse, “they’re like similar but different little countries all in one”. So, I’m actually kind of proud that I can be the representative of my country, as opposed to 80 percent of UNM because I feel as if I have better cultural insight since I’m triple minority and thus a little more open minded. When I’m in America I’ll probably be the first to talk shit about it, from its lack of public transportation to its awful social policies and equal rights practices? At any rate, when I’m here…I feel some sort of duty, a sense of nationality and pride overwhelms me so I must defend our fat ass capitalism culture! Or is it that I don’t want to be grouped in with a mass of idiots? Or is it that our country really is beautiful and diverse in its own way in each of the 50 states? Mostly I don’t want to be grouped in with idiots, and nor do I want other Americans who are not idiots to suffer the stereotypes the rest of the world has about us… but all of my reasons combine my motivation for defending my country, so there you go. I will defend the good ol’ US of A pride. But yes, it is tiring to fight off all the stereotypes.
But another thing at the same rate, as much as people want to criticize the United States, they eat the shit out of all of our lame ass pop culture for some reason. Ask anyone, from Denmark, Germany, Spain, Franc e, and they can probably tell you the full plot line and cast of Desperate Housewives and can’t count on their fingers and toes how many American celebrities and politicians they know about, yet most Americans can’t name a single television show or celebrity that’s based out of a foreign country…except maybe the Beetles…they’re like umm….from like…England or something. Angelina Jolie’s babies are from like, Africa…. RIGHT. At any rate I’ve realized that we as Americans really do have a huge influence on global pop culture, so I feel as if it comes with an individual responsibility to not fuck up our image. The only stereotype I do try to perpetuate is our kindness, even if it is perceived as dishonest. If I see a stranger in the grocery store drop something, I’m going to pick it up. If I see an old lady on the metro, I’ll get my American ass up and let her sit (sorry Rosa Parks), I give lost people directions to the best of my ability (not very well), and just generally give an air of kindness, goddamnit.
So. If it’s not evident in my literary voice right now I’m kind of in a bad place in terms of my social life and economic resources. So, here are some thoughts:
 When broke as shit, one must survive on creativity, which some may refer to as a low standard of living. For example, you can’t imagine the weird shit I eat on toast…whatever’s in a jar in the fridge, I’ll eat it on toast. Fuck it, tomato sauce, pesto sauce, butter, rotten fruit, weird stinky French cheese, ground up babies, fuck it I’ll eat it I’m starving my balls off and the beautiful French bakery with all its beautiful pastries is too damn expensive! Literally, my indulgences when it comes to food these days are the cheapest Parisian street food available. This includes and is not limited to Nutella Crepes (my favorite, for about 2-4 euros for a child size portion), Grocery Cart Grilled Corn (it’s literally grilled on the street in a stolen shopping carton outfitted with a grill made out of a large tin can, operated by a real sketchy dude, but the sketchier the vendor, the better the quality…maybe). Hot dogs are way better in Paris, the way they melt all the cheese onto the hotdog makes all of my entirely legitimate fears about the origin of the hotdog juts melt away, and rather than a shitty bun they’re snuggled in a nice baguette. Paninis are another favorite, which is probably where I get most of my vitamins from, since often times they have tomatoes in them. I should buy a bottle of vitamins…oh wait those might cost me money. We’ll see how long it takes for me to develop scurvy; I’ll buy a lime then. MacDonalds in France does not carry the same stigma that it does in America, and it’s also not as cheap. The MacDonalds at Hotel de Ville is nicer than a lot of high end restaurants in Nob Hill in terms of decoration and atmosphere. Fucking weird huh? When I try to explain to people from other countries that in America, our McDonalds were built in the 80s and still have the same plastic chairs and shitty ‘art’ on the walls (with a few exceptions) they don’t believe me. But hey, after my diet was restricted in the last month and a half by my infected wisdom teeth(I literally ate nothing because it hurt so bad), my wisdom teeth extraction, and my health freak grandmother who would only feed me vegetables, this is just another phase in my dietary history to be forgotten about soon (hopefully). At least my pansa is at an all time record small size.