And so what happened then, the can of worms opened, squirming, daring to be cast to the water, bait to dreg up who knows what? Where were the answers to those life-long questions; and what, by God, was the real problem if not a question of happiness?

Happiness, like love, like truth, is a big word. And just like saying "I love you," or, "trust me," is easy and ultimately meaningless as mere words, stating, "I'm not happy," just isn't good enough....

This post has been sitting in my "drafts" folder since July 23, waiting to be written. Today, the Warrior of the Light newsletter showed up in my inbox. This month's topic : When angels talk.

"Nobody is courageous all the time. The unknown is a constant challenge, and being afraid is part of the journey.

What to do? Talk to yourself. Talk alone. Talk to yourself even if others think you have gone crazy. As we talk, an inner force gives us the security to overcome the obstacles that need to be surmounted. We learn lessons from the defeats that we are bound to suffer. And we prepare ourselves for the many victories that will be part of our life."

I would take this thought one step further to stress how important it is to talk, period. Maybe because unlike a lot of people I know, I am not someone who talks easily. Here, Coelho says, when there is no one or when some one won't do; talk to yourself, talk to your angel (talk to God). But what happened to me last November, despite my deception of the answers I received ("who's happy?"), was that I started talking, and to anyone who'd listen. This magnificent dialog was born, and maybe I might as well have been talking to myself, because it's true too that, whereas I am of course influenced by people's input and reactions to this ongoing subject, "I'm not happy," finding words to put to these feelings and ideas, reformulating them, perfecting them, playing with their meaning, is, well, huge. And it's new to me.

Why open this can of worms, here, in public view? I think on the one hand I really felt a need to fill the gap in the timeline during all these months of writer's block and copying/pasting horoscopes (only the pertinent ones of course). Sort of a, bringing-things-to-date before moving on. But the real reason is because it is such an important part of this dialog that I am having - with "you" as well as with myself.

Talking out loud is liberating because it is spontaneous and raw: ideas often come out "uncut" and sometimes I find myself amazed by what comes out of my mouth. Thoughts I had never verbalized before are suddenly taking shape and becoming real before I have a chance to think otherwise. It just happens, for better or for worse.

Writing, just as liberating, is neither spontaneous nor raw. It is measured, calculated, edited, analyzed and rewritten.

I have never had a pseudonym. I have never written anonymously. I have never had a protective identity from behind which to explore the intimate details of life in written or any other form, either in my personal or my professional life. This fact is both my choice and my burden. A lot has happened since declaring "I'm not happy" in November of last year and the moment I published it here on my blog just a couple of weeks ago. My breakthrough is realizing how much the question I have been asking is linked to my difficulty in answering it.

As those who know me are aware, I didn't end up firing myself. Quite the contrary, work seemed to come at me from every direction just at that moment that I was dreaming of hitting the road with no more than a backpack and a credit card. Instead of getting fired, I ended up getting a promotion.

Here I am coming up quickly on the one-year anniversary of "I'm not happy" Day, coming full circle, and welling up with all these unanswered questions and vague feelings that were pushed aside these last 6 months...and an answer is born: I'm not happy because I don't know why I do what I do. I'm not happy because, pseudonym or no, I have nonetheless been hiding behind something, not facing the true questions and all the while running from the answers.

"Your thinking is slowing down a bit -- but getting quite a bit more intense! You may need to spend some time alone with your mind, just trying to get to the bottom of whatever problems has been bugging you lately. "

Sometime back in November of 2007 I decided that I wasn't happy. This wasn't the first time that I'd thought it. It was not the first time I'd felt it. But, it was the first time I'd said it out loud.

"I'm not happy."

"So why don't you quit?"

"You're right. I'm gonna do it. I quit."

And that was a good start. I felt immediately relieved, even if I had no idea what it all meant nor what I was to do next. Because it's easy to talk about change. It's tough to do anything about it.

When I decided to quit smoking back in 2002, I didn't tell anyone. That, and an Irish coffee everyday at 2pm for a week, was the key to my success. I knew what I wanted to do (quit smoking), and I knew that nobody could help me. If I failed I would have no one to answer to, and while I was suffering through it I certainly didn't need anyone's sympathy.

But deciding to fire myself wasn't as clear cut a choice. I knew I wasn't happy, but I didn't know what I wanted to do, what I could do about it. So this time, I decided to talk about it. This time, I needed help.

Why wasn't I happy? What wasn't I happy about? If I was going to create change, these were the questions I needed to answer.

"I'm not happy."

"Who is?"

"Are you shitting me?"

I was surprisingly getting no sympathy. And worse, no encouragement. People seemed to think it was normal. Everyone around seemed to be miserable in their work to some extent and to have accepted that as their fate. I was intrigued and ever the more determined not to be like them. I conceded that of course there are elements to anything we do, even for our greatest passions, that are tedious, boring, exasperating, annoying, or all of the above. That wasn't what I was complaining about. That's when I realized that I didn't mean to be talking about "happiness" at all. You can't actually talk about happiness as an objective because it is fleeting. And because people just won't let you get away with it. Denis Leary said it best when he said,

"Happiness comes in small doses folks. It's a cigarette butt, or a chocolate chip cookie or a five second orgasm. You come, you smoke the butt you eat the cookie you go to sleep wake up and go back to fucking work the next morning, THAT'S IT! End of fucking list!"

So, if I wasn't ultimately talking about happiness, what was the real problem?

"You must break old habits and be able to take a fresh approach to the challenges that face you. You must have the courage to make a change, and the changes needed have more to do with HOW you do things than WHAT you do. This is a time to find greater sincerity and meaningfulness in your life and work."

If you haven't read it already, run out right away and find yourself a copy of Petite Anglaise - a wonderful and romantic read, just in time for summer. I knew vaguely what I was getting into even though I'm not a regular follower of Petite Anglaise the blog, having heard about her story and her reputation as a riveting author. Not only is this true story of a young English woman and her romance with Paris completely captivating, but the style is seductive and makes every page a delightful discovery of life, love and, of course, Paris.

Where it may not have cured my writing rut, it has got me reading again. Another big thank you to Kelsey at Spiegel & Grau for the gift.

The mid-April snow had turned into a chilling, intermittent rain. I made my way toward the quay from the rue Agar, my face bent out of shape against the cold.

"Take your winter coat," he had said that morning, "it's going to be freezing out today."
"No way," I grumbled back, "I'm sick of wearing that damned thing!"

I sat down on the bench under the cover of the #70 bus stop on the Pont de Grenelle, wondering why I hadn't taken his advice. Next time I'll listen to him, I thought, no matter how much he sounds like a nagging grandmother.

There were four of us huddled under the shelter, silently cursing the wait. Up in the distance, just off to the left of the Eiffel Tower, the faint shadow of a rainbow managed to pierce its way out of a dense, dark cloud, and brought a warming smile to my face. I sat there grinning and wishing it could be contagious. I had the urge to say to the others, "Look, did you see the rainbow?" with my big dorky, naive smile. But I didn't, either by my own self-consciousness or the disbelief that they would have appreciated it as anything other than mundane.

So I sat there ginning and feeling a little warmer. The bus still didn't come. A few more people gathered around. Then, instead of the bus that we were all expecting and hoping for, from around the corner came a woman, on foot, wearing a rain slicker with a bright yellow hood, leading three saddled ponies. The rain continued to fall. My grin widened. She stopped in front of us for a minute to adjust the bridals in preparation of crossing the bridge. I turned to the woman next to me and said, "Now there's something you don't see everyday!" She smiled, but didn't say anything. We all watched with curiosity, my smile now a permanent fixture, the woman's next to me had faded like the rainbow.

Finally, the bus arrived. I was the only one smiling.

ÉCU 2008 is rapidly approaching! The program of film screenings and the calendar of events has been posted, so quick, go check it out and make your RSVPs asap. Film trailers can also be viewed on ÉCU Interactive to help you choose among the more than 100 independent films from all over the world that will be shown over the weekend of March 14-16 at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

For programs and events : www.ecufilmfestival.com/program.php
To view film trailers : www.ecufilmfestival.com/interactive/

Entry is free, but you have to reserve seats in advance. See you there!

"Yes, all this waiting is probably making you absolutely crazy, and yes, you're due for the universe to toss you just one tiny bone. Now, stop whining. Nothing happens until it's supposed to happen, and no matter how hard you try, you can't change that. Deal with it."

You are a slacker. You call yourself a blogger, poised in secretary-style tortoise-shell glasses behind your MacBook, but in reality the bubble remains blank. You blame the holidays, followed by tendacies toward poor time management for your lack of productivity. You have fallen off the wagon once again; is it possible that you have given up?

Me? Give up? Never! Where's that damn wagon!? Blast that bubble! I'll show them...I mean, me...

You are fair, honest, and logical. You are a natural leader, and people respect you.
You never give up, and you will succeed... even if it takes you a hundred tries.
You are rational enough to see every part of a problem. You are great at giving other people advice.

You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone.
You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together.
At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.
You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.
You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.

You are a free spirit, and you resent anyone who tries to fence you in.
You are unpredictable, adventurous, and always a little surprising.
You may miss out by not settling down, but you're too busy having fun to care.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

"J'ai pas un kopeck," is a French expression for, "I haven't got a dime."
"J'ai même pas un roupie (rupee)," would be even worse, as in, "I haven't got a penny," or, "I'm really bloody broke." That is until today, now that even India is rejecting the dollar and demanding that all tourists pay entry to sites such as the Taj Mahal in rupees because they were losing money in the exchange. How embarrassing. Olivier is laughing, teasing me saying he's gonna hang a sign around my neck, "For Sale. Cheap." And the French will soon be saying, "J'ai pas un dollar."
Sniff. Oh where oh where can it be?

No. No deep thoughts about the start of a new year. I don't feel like I've arrived at any kind of end so that I might find myself at some kind of beginning. Today, Tuesday January 1, 2008, feels simply like the day after Monday, except that I am still "playing hooky" after coming back from our holiday early. A calendar year has ended, but I'm not in step with the calendar year, not yet ready to celebrate. No, nothing is wrong per se. For me it's just not time yet.

The above items are:
a) Pottery tools
b) Meat tenderizers
c) Hot irons
d) Instruments of torture
e) None of the above

If you chose "b", you are correct!

Following Bob's wise advice, I got organized and got myself over to the gigantic BHV at Hôtel de Ville, despite the post-Christmas crowds. I wasn't quite sure what to ask for, so when I flagged down a salesperson I started out, "I'm looking for one of those things, you know, for flattening meat..?" Fearing that she was going to frown and send me down to the hardware section, I was pleasantly surprised when, after a brief moment's reflection, she brought me straight to the item I was looking for. It was a classic square metal mallet with big pyramid shaped teeth on one of the flat sides, and smaller ones on the other. Joy! But it was bigger than what I wanted, and the sales lady picked up on my hesitation and said that I could probably find a more "designer" collection with the German brand WMF in another section of the store.

I had never seen anything like them, not even at my grandmother's house, she who had at least one of every cooking utensil ever invented for every possible purpose.

A dainty, designer version of the classic mallet. Whereas the first mallet I had seen was too big, this one was a tad too small, and at 35 Euros, simply couldn't be justified.

This one felt like a big, awkward spatula in my hand. The salesperson said it could also be used to whack your mother-in-law on the head.

Here is the beauty I finally settled on, my new kitchen toy. Fitting snuggly into my hand it immediately gave me the urge to pound meat. The box indicates that it should also be used for smashing peppercorns (but of course). Or, again following the salesperson's suggestion, could be used as a CD holder. Why not.

If you'll excuse me now, I have some meat to beat.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, "meat tenderizer" in French is, "attendrisseur à viande".

*****
The crappy nature of these photos is due to them being taken with my outdated and slowly dying Nokia cell phone. Scuses.

"You're all sneers, bad attitude and streetwise skills. You're in no mood to take any attitude from anyone, let alone some punks who think they know it all. In this mood, it might be best to avoid company."

Go down the street and hang a right this time...rue Vaugirard. On the corner, at the foot of this gorgeous building, our favorite local restaurant, Au Tour De...Run by a Frenchman and his South African partner, we can never resist their oven-baked escargot with blue cheese and herbs. Served with a glass of Viognier, mmmmm.

Quick stop at the pharmacy. Soon, we may be able to buy non-prescription drugs off the shelf, but for now even aspirin is kept behind the counter.

Cross the street, heading down rue de la Croix-Nivert. New construction going up, that terrace apartment has got to have a gorgeous view. I have no idea what they're going for, but most are sold before construction is completed.

Ho ho ho.

Christmas is afoot.

Paris architecture can be as hideous as it is beautiful. In real life this building on the left is just aweful, but in the photo doesn't look half bad.

There are a surprising number of closed storefronts and abandoned buildings in Paris.

Then you've got all these odd shops that make you wonder how they stay afloat (no pun intended).

Finally arrived at Bernard's shop, running a little late since I stopped every couple of minutes to take pictures. Usually it's a fifteen minute walk from where I live. After my hour and a half session, Bernard treats me to a coffee at the café down the street.

Sunday we take off to Rochefort for the holidays...I've decided to leave the computer at home. When I get back I'll continue this photo journal with a trip to the grocery store, and the joys of cooking in a kitchen that is only 4 m2 and where the top of the mini-fridge doubles as a counter top.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!