Okay, first of all, I just have to say something about the Air France debacle: the plane disappeared?! Are you kidding me? And now they’ve reported to finding parts of the wreckage. What a shit time to hear about this. I mean, I like flying, and I love traveling, but this just gives me the creeps.

In other news; I need to find a job in Switzerland. Can’t go on leeching off of Mom’s money. And it’s not a matter of wanting to get one. I need to get one. I want to know I can support myself—or at least be able to cover my own pocket spendings—stand on my own two feet. I want to be financially independent. I know the prospects of landing a job in Lugano is not very good, but I’m determined. Have to start working!

Nous avons vu un film en français aujourd’hui qui m’a fait trist et un peu abattu. (Un sentiment trop courant dans ces derniers temps, mais t’inquiète po, chuis correct.) Ceci est ma critique:

It is the story about “an outsider coming into a close-knit community and the effects that [he] has on the people, and the prejudices that are stirred up.”

The writer’s portrayal of the small town is grim, yet relatable: a chilly, impenetrable circle of homogenous Bretons who are more or less unmalleable in regards to their ways and manners with outsiders.

The viewers are introduced to Antoine as a catalyst, but the characters are stagnant, and aside from the gradual warming up on Yvon, there is no real change, which is the most frustrating thing about this movie. It is essentially a movie about a man fail: unpleasant and hopeless, an ironic twist on the film’s title, L’Équipier.

As a foreigner, an expat, an intruder, this film hits a little too close for comfort, and its message is disappointing and harrowing. I was secretly hoping for a more reconciliatory ending.

Obviously, this isn’t the kind of movie that I would have liked to see, but I can’t help but ponder on its accuracy. Why is it so damn difficult to immerse yourself into a small community? People who have never lived outside of their homelands, hometowns, they will never come to know this feeling.

I like traveling and seeing the world, and wouldn’t give it up for the world. But really, where is a place that I can say I belong to? Is the right to a communal citizenship something every vagabond has to renounce? Or is it just me who is floating in between countries and continents?

I leave you with Elephant by Damien Rice, a former favorite that I rediscovered a few days ago. Used to be a huge Damien Rice fan in junior high; such powerful melodies and strong—albeit de temps en temps senseless—words. And you’ve gotta admit the man’s got balls.
‘Cause I am lately…Lonely.
‘Cause I am lately…Horny.