Hurtling Towards Christmas!

So as you can tell, ce con la, il a attrapé l'esprit de Noël.  It's been building slowly here an there.  After Halloween, as tradition demands, I had already started listening to Christmas music.  I'm a sucker for Mele Kalikimaka, but I prefer KT Tunstall's version, and I have never heard a Carpenters Christmas song I didn't like.  Back in the States, when husband and I would make the drive up 23 for Thanksgiving, we would follow the "all Christmas Music all the time" stations from Columbus, to Mansfield, and then over from Van Wert, Fort Wayne, or Toledo.  Luckily, I found someone who get's just as Christmas obsessed as I.

This weekend was perfect, as we went out with the Mother in Law and her cousins, who are genuinely great people, to see le Marché de Noël on Place de la Parliament.  Mother in Law was hot on the trail of unique presents for the nieces.  Of course, it's much easier for the youngest. Every year it's like she just has a theme for her presents.  Last year it was Pokémon, and this year it's Lalaloopsy.  I find them to be as ugly as sin, but if that's what makes her happy, tant mieux!  The other two are older, so they're more into jewelry and such.  Anyway, it was wonderful to see all the stands and everything they had.

I had to control myself because we weren't looking to spend a hundred euros on food, even though I totally could have.  They had tartiflette, and vin chaud, and yes the ultimate Christmas food, croustillions!  So we controlled ourselves as we had not eaten yet, and split 12 among the four of us.  It was really beautiful to see all of the lights up, and it was slightly cold, but oh, it was nice.

Less nice, was dealing with the crowds and the want of mother in law and her cousin to shop.  I hate going into stores and doing shopping, when it's not for me that is, and I do all my Christmas shopping online.  We already got the youngest niece taken care of like that, and I got husband's gift like that too.  Of course, now I'm not sure of my choice.   I hate being on a limited budget....  Most likely we'll do the majority of the purchases online, just for simplicity's  sake.

All and all, it has been pretty nice lately, and with how time has been moving forward, it's going to be Christmas before you know it.  I'm ok, with that because it means that the Marriage Equality debate will start at the end of January, and should be law by March.  After that, it's just making an appointment at the Mairie with all of our paperwork.  I'm just wanting to get this done and move along.

No News is Good News

So this is something that I was inspired to post by a good friend Writer over at Salmangundi.  As I said, write what you know.  This is a story based on most of Junior High, High School, and College for me.

He did not know if he had woken himself up, or if the ringing of the phone had done it. Either way though he was awake. He got out of bed, and picked the phone off the table, looking at the time before opening the cover. Whoever was calling hopefully had a good reason for calling at half past one.

“Hello,” he said quietly into the phone. Estelle, his girlfriend, was still asleep, and left the room as he was answering so that she would not wake up.

“Marc,” a small yet familiar voice said, “it’s Mom.”

“Mom, what’s wrong.”

“It’s your father. He’s not home yet.”

“When did he day he would be home?” Marc asked, walking over to the couch.

“He told me he would be right home tonight,” Mom said.

He sat down on the couch, “Well, maybe he just got held up. You know how sometimes there’s just a rush right before he leaves.”

“This isn’t Chicago, Marc. This is Bedford. There’s no road where there might be a twelve car pile up. Anyway, I’ve been listening to the radio. There were no reports of anything.”

“You know, he’s probably just out. He does this all the time.”

“I know, but he said that he would be straight home, he knows how I worry…”

“Did you call him?”

“Even if he takes the cell phone when he goes out, the fool just leaves it in his jacket, under a pile of 600 other jackets on vibrate. There’s no real point in having the thing in the first place.”

“Well, no news is good news,” he said, resisting the urge to lay back.

“No news just means that they haven’t put out the wreckage yet,” Mom said, audibly upset.

“Mom, you can’t do this to yourself. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Because I can’t sleep till he’s in bed next to me. Why does he do this to me? He knows how I worry.”

Marc assumed his usual position on the couch. He lay back against the pillows on the couch, and sighed. After the last few months this position was becoming familiar, especially at this time of night. His mother called, panicked about anything from why his sister had not called her in two days, to a dream she had about his grandmother who had been dead for 20 years. The calls tended to cycle though, and lately complaining about his father had become a favorite.

Maybe his father was driving home, and came upon an accident, and was being a Good Samaritan by helping out the people. It’s possible, but it was not likely. Perhaps he had a flat tire. She would just worry about him being along the side of the road alone. There was the possibility he was out drinking and lost track of time. Truthfully this was the most accurate, but that was not the response for which Mom was looking.

“Mom,” said Marc. “You have to try and relax. This isn’t doing anyone any good, least of all yourself.”

“I’m sorry to call you, but if I called your sister, I would have woken up Sam or if I called your brother, he would have just gotten annoyed.”

“No Mom, it’s ok. If you’re worried, I would prefer you called me instead of just sitting there alone.”

Marc rubbed his eyes. “The only other thing I can think to do is call the hospital.”

“Well, I think I will wait until 3 for that.”

“Mom, you have to relax. I know it’s not easy, but this isn’t helping anyone.”

“I know, but I don’t know what else to do. Why does he do this to me?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, I am just keeping you up. Thanks for talking to me. I am going to hang up, and I will call you back if he’s not home by 3.”

“Ok Mom, I love you. Try and relax.”

“I love you too, Marc. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Marc got up off the couch and walked back to the bedroom. He plugged the phone back into the charger, waited for the flash and the charging beep, and lay back down in bed.

“So who was on the phone, she asked already knowing the answer,” she said slightly muffled by the pillow.

“Sorry if I woke you up, but you know no one else is going to talk to her,” Marc said curling up against her and kissing her on the shoulder.

“Your sister uses those children like escape pods. I swear she had those kids as more of a bargaining chip than love.”

“Well, you tell me, who would you rather come home to; me or that Neanderthal Sam.”

“I don’t even want to think about him.”

“If that’s the case, then you could think about me.”

“And I’ll have pleasant dreams.”

“You know, the night is young.”

“And so are we, and there will be many other nights.”

“So then-.”

“So then I am going to go back to sleep, because I have to face 20 kids tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be up that long.”

“Yeah, that sweetens it. Sorry, but those kids are the best argument against. Goodnight.”

“Spoilsport.”

Marc kissed Estelle on the back of the neck and returned to his side of the bed. Images of what had happened began to flash through his head. His father had been injured, and was laying in the car, bleeding to death. He would have to take off work to go be with his mother. The rest of his family would never do it, so it was all up to him.

Marc’s sister always had the excuse of being a girl to get her out of most anything. Marc was always surprised that his father always believed her when she said that she just didn’t understand math after coming home with a new dress. This excuse came from the same girl who had aced honors calculus her senior year. His father would smile, say he understood, and nothing more was mentioned.

Looking back on his life, there were only a handful of events in his life where alcohol had not been present. Both he and his sister had pictures of a hand mysteriously similar to his father’s holding a beer to give the illusion that the child was drinking. Most events involved the same group of friends coming to the family parties for baptisms, communions or confirmations. The same group of friends he had from elementary school, high school, and attended college, and would inevitably be there to his dying day.

He imagined the funeral, most likely at a church. All sorts of people his mother never knew would be there, coming up to the casket, saying goodbye. She would be lost among the faces, even more so because she had always said that if anything happened to his father, she would have to be heavily medicated to make it through.

Mom would be speaking softly, sharing treasured memories about her husband’s life. She would tell anyone who would listen about how they met, and how they fell in love. She would smile and remember their first dates, and how he gave her a ring, and a house, and a family. Tonight would not be among the topics.

His sister would be there, with her husband Sam, and their beautiful screaming chain of children. Children were great, so long as he could just play with them, and then send them home to their parents after they were heavily dosed with sugar. His sister would cry the same tears she cried that got her that first car. Sam would put his arm around her, consoling her, telling her how he was a great man.

People would come up to his mother, and up to him (because to whom else would she cling) and tell them how sorry he or she was to hear of his father’s passing. This must be such a sad time for them, and how if there was anything they could do to help, just let them know. People that had long severed connections with the family for one reason or another would appear from places he had not been in years. Everyone would be putting up a saddened façade, but really the whole atmosphere would be a reunion of sorts.

After the ceremony, Sam would pass the children to his wife, and go out with his friends. Later, Marc would get a call from his mother, who was called by his sister after Sam had been arrested, and needed to be bailed out of jail. His sister could not go alone, so he would be called to drive his thoroughly drunk brother-in-law home. After Sam was asleep, his sister would call him, crying about how she finally understood what Mom meant about the sacrifices of marriage.

He moved closer to Estelle, and put his arm around her. She turned in towards him, and moved closer against him. She slowly put her arms around him and kissed him.

“What was that for?” he asked, kissing her on the forehead.

“Nothing,” she said, smiling and looking into his eyes. “I’m cold. Come closer.”

Marc moved so that her head was against his chest. Estelle exhaled heavily and pulled her legs against his.

“Do you love me?”

“Come on Stell, you know I do.”

“And will you make an honest woman of me someday?”

“ ’Course.”

“And we’ll have everything?”

“Mm, hm, with a ring, and a house, and a family.”

Estelle smiled and ran her hands through Marc’s hair. She looked up at him with her green eyes, and shook her head softly. Marc lay there, listening to the streetlight buzz outside, and eventually turn off. He thought about finishing college. They only had a few more years, but there was still graduate school. If he played his cards right, maybe he could be an eternal student. Estelle could teach, and he would work some desk job. They would be happy enough to get by. But he thought that there was no point in worrying about things. After all, everything happens eventually. Marc closed his eyes, put his head against Estelle’s and tried to go back to sleep.

You say goodbye, I say hello....

For the first few months I was here, I always said goodbye by saying bonjour, because I could not get it out of my head that "good day" didn't make sense as a greeting.  Even after I knew better, I still did it....  People would smile, and I'm sure have a laugh at my expense, but eventually, I got it through my head.  Also, I always used to say a direct translation of "have a good time" to my nieces when they would leave...until they informed me that usually it would be interpreted as something sexual, so that ended right there. What to say, to whom, and when is much more complicated than simply saying "aurevoir," which no one seems to say unless they're on the phone.  Even then, it might just be me!

When meeting someone in person, it's always polite to say bonjour.  It's usually what's said when you don't know someone, so it's more or less a default greeting.   Most time greetings work for any time of day.  So much like in the US, you change your greeting based on time.  Although in French, you can say "Bon Matin," but it doesn't really work as a greeting.  You can say, "Passez un bon matin," but then it's saying goodbye.  Conversely, there is not way to say "Good Afternoon" as a greeting in French.  When saying goodbye though, it's totally fine to say "Bon Après-mdi."  After that, it works like in most countries, you have "Bon Soir" for "Good Evening," but in French this works normally when parting ways, while like in English, "Bonne Nuit" is strictly for saying good night.  Additionally in French there's a special one used in polite conversation to tell someone "Bonne Soirée."  It's like saying Good Evening, but is just more polite.

Now the polite ways to say hello and goodbye are nice, but I never said anything like this to my friends back in the US.  Usually it was "Hey," "Oi," or "How you doin?" complemented with a nod of the head.  The first works with people who know Northern European languages, and the second for those who know Brazilian Portuguese, but I speak too fast for the third to be understood.  Most French people understand the different forms of "goodbye;" however; you can be much more casual in French, and there are so many fun ways to say goodbye based upon duration of separation.

The standard greeting of "aurevoir" is rarely used in France, and only in cases of long term separation.  It means "until the next time we see each other."  So basically if you're saying this, you've got at least a week of separation.  The next would be "abientôt."  Saying "abientôt" is like saying until next time, but that you're more excited about seeing them.  This can also be augmented with "a trés bientôt," loosely translated as "We'll see each other very soon, I hope."  Another fun one is "a plus tard" which simply means "see you later."  Usually, no one says the whole phrase and simply says "a plus," similar to the American "later."  The next would probably be "a toute a l'heure" which means "see you in a while," or more literally "see you at the appointed time."  Usually I hear French people use it to say that they'll see someone very soon.  Apparently it can also be used to say see you at the same time.  Also, this usually never comes out in full.  When spoken it comes out as something like "ahtaleure."  When you want to tell someone you'll see them in a second or in a little bit, you say, a toute suite."

Some other common ways of saying goodbye are the ever popular European standby of "ciao," which now I can't say or write without thinking of Eddie Izzard and also "bonne continuation" which is kind of like saying "keep on keeping on."  Seriously, I tried to find something more exact, but well, I got everything from "good luck in the future" to "keep up the good work."  So we'll just call this one a contextual chameleon and move on with our lives!

Also in French, it seems like you can only say it's nice to have met someone at the beginning of a conversation.  French people will sometimes say "enchanté" which literally means "enchanted" but functions more as Blanche Devereaux's "charmed."  It's also often said, "ravi" which means something like "delighted."  However; there's no really good way to say that it was nice to have met someone at the end of a conversation.  Believe me, I tried.  Doesn't work.....

So I'll be on my merry way and say a plus, because given how things have been lately, I dunno when my next post will be.  I have some ideas, but well, I promise nothing! :-)

Elevator Politics

Now, I'm sure I've complained before about the false politesse that exists in France.  I mean, it's impossible that I haven't.  When you enter into pretty much anywhere, you are partially obligated to greet everyone in the place.  You say a bonjour and wait your turn if you're at the Caisse Assurance Maladie, or when you enter a small bookstore, it's completely normal to have not only the staff say hello, even some of the patrons may say it, with larger or smaller degrees of enthusiasm.  This I've learned to deal with.

One thing I will never learn how to deal with is in my own building where I live, it is expected that when waiting for the elevator, or upon entering the elevator, if there are other people you are expected to say hello.  I mean, it's not like it's some sort of major production, but it's that I'm expected to say it, and will be considered rude if I don't.  I just really don't like having to say hello to people in my own home basically.  It's the silent judging that happens when you don't return a hello that was socially obligated in the first place.

Of course, if it's the super or his wife saying hello, I'll always say hello back.  Usually when I pass by the front office on my way out, I'll say a quick hello as well.  It's not only because the man decides how soon my toilet will get fixed or whether or not I will find a bag of garbage sitting on my paillasson because I didn't feel like sorting the plastique et briques alimentaires from the ordures ménagères.  (Seriously, this happened to our next door neighbor once.) but he's a nice guy.  One day when we switched cars with husband's aunt we left the key to the garage on the other ring.  It was him who let us in so we didn't have to drive the hour back to get the key so we could leave for a weekend three hours in the other direction.  Also, he's a riot when he's drunk.

When it annoys me is when I'm saying hello to the same punks who might have gotten rid of the laundromat that used to be downstairs because of the vandalism that happened there.  The same people who carved profanity into the reflective part of the elevator.  Or maybe it's the people who have parties until five in the morning on every break.  It makes me not look forward to Toussaints next week, believe me.  One time husband and I were coming home late, maybe around 2 am, and we were just going to put our key in and enter, when the lock was busted, meaning we may have been locked out until the next morning.  Luckily we were saved from that when someone exited, but still.  Another time, as we were leaving for the night, we saw a guy who couldn't get back in push the screen out of the window and come in that way since the door was locked.  My personal favorite though was the night when we were leaving and had to walk through people having a party in the entry because their apartment is too small given the number of people they had there.

The funniest though is when people just skip the politesse altogether.  One night, husband and I were just getting back and he was dying for a cigarette.  I don't like that he smokes, but it's something I've learned to deal with, so I stayed out with him.  While we're there, a car pulls up and a guy gets out.  We have no idea who he is, but we had seen him around the building.  Just as a programming note, this guy is a chav, and as he's walking in he says to us "Bonne nuit les gars."  So quickly putting my monacle back into place from where it had fallen into my champagne, I mumble out a Bon soir as he enters.

So I'll ask you, amis lecteurs, is it better to have someone choose to formally greet you, even if it's without meaning, or would you prefer they simply say nothing and pass by you, appearing incredibly rude, or should they greet you in a familiar way, risking scandalizing the more proper elements of society?

Compartmentalization

So, the mother in law has moved into her new place, and things should start slowing down again.  Theoretically that should mean that I can sit down and start writing real articles on here again.  I get excited thinking about writing, but I find it increasingly difficult to sit down and want to write something really long and involved that takes explanation and possibly a dictionary to explain exactly what I mean.

It's not that I don't want to.  I even thought up a lot of fun articles, but it was the getting around to writing them that's really the issue.  I wanted to write about Fort Boyard, which is sadly coming to an end next week, and just things that are exclusively French that really would be something that I could show people and get them interested in.  Or I wanted to talk about the car trouble we had, and the fun of trying to translate head gasket into French or figure out what on earth a "courroie de distribution" is in English.  Then, I sit down on the couch, and there's an old episode of Oliver's Twist on.  And then I fall asleep.

I think it's a two pronged problem.  First and foremost; the spirit is willing, but the flesh wants to be on Google +.  (I'm serious.  If you're not on, get on.  I'd love to have you all circled!)  I just really enjoy all the stuff that comes through.  It's not a million notices about what people ate or why their job sucks.  It's where I find the most interesting stories, and infographics.  Unlike facebook, these are all people that I don't know from Adam.  There just fascinating people that I've met who post about things that interest me.   I just get to a certain point of the day, and I just don't feel like typing much more than three sentences, or just want to make witty retorts.    

Secondly, I think I've been doing too much compartmentalization.  I have my facebook account that was for people I knew in real life, G+ for people that I met and found fascinating, livejournal for personal thoughts, and blogger I always tried to keep more about life in France.  I think that may be the problem though.  With all the division and gates that I've put up, I don't remember the last time I actually made a post on Livejournal at all.  I check the blog roll I put up forever ago, but I need to update that.  Facebook and G+ are about all I do anymore, because they're quick and I can get me some instant gratification.

So I'm going to try and use this site as a regular blog. We'll see how this goes and if I do post more ultimately.  Hope to see you all around soon. 

L'enjeu

So I had a great time visiting family this weekend, and it's official; my niece is now 9.  It's kind of scary to think in a way.  When we moved back, she was 6.  Should I start singing Sunrise/Sunset or The Circle of Life?  Eh, either way I still come off as an aging queen.  I am exhausted though.  Seriously, two days, and we're still not back to any sort of regular rhythm.  Not going to bed before 1 in the morning for almost a week straight, may have something to do with that.  Also, stuffing myself didn't hurt.

My niece is at that age before it's uncool to play games, and in particular, she's all about pokémon.  So she and the husband are deep in to Black and White right now.  They've even figured out now how to trade internationally.  I had enough time to update Ubuntu before the computer was needed for repeated trades and after, the fun of the Pokémon Dream World began.


Somehow, husband and niece had exhausted their options in game, and I finally had the chance to update Ubuntu, which meant that we were actually all free at the same time.  By convenience, so was my older niece who was also home at the time.  Since there were four of us, we thought it would be more fun to play something together.  We had talked about playing Monopoly before but we didn't have time the day before. We did watch X-Men: First Class though.  Did I mention I love Michael Fassbender?

Now I had played Monopoly before, well....never a whole game.  When I did play, it always ended up the same way:  my oldest sister never wanted to play, and it was with my older sister and brother.  My little brother would be enthusiastic about starting, but he always ended up getting upset about it.  After all, he was all of 5 or 6.  Usually the board ended up overturned, and my little brother running out of the room crying.  He'd run to Mom and she'd declare my little brother the winner.  It's why I stopped playing board games for a long time.  After that, I pretty much swore off board games.

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect in this game as I had never played with my oldest niece.  She's usually pretty level headed about things, but I didn't know what to expect.  I already knew that my little niece would be a horrible loser, but also a horrible winner.  I had seen controllers thrown when she was upset, but also I'd seen now she rejoices in her victory over others.  She's still young enough where it's cute sometimes, but I knew where she stood at least.  The husband, well....it's not that he's a horrible loser, but he gets upset when things don't go his way.  So this would be interesting.  (I'll admit that I myself, also have the same problem, although losing a video game pisses me off more than losing a board game.  They call it rage quit for a reason!)

Now this was not a newer version of the game, so it was in francs.For some reason I don't remember any of the money amounts being higher than 500 in the American version.  In francs, the highest denomination was 50, 000.  That seems like an insane amount to have normally.  Of course, considering that it takes about 7 francs to make a euro and 6 to make a dollar, you see why the prices are so much different. Buying the most expensive lots in the game are also rather ridiculous.  The most expensive property in the French version is Avenue Champs-Élysée at 32, 000 Francs!  I couldn't imagine spending that much for Boardwalk.  In the French game, you start out with 150, 000 francs, so it's deceptive how much you have.  I did buy 6 properties though: two reds, two yellows, a light blue and a dark blue.  

I have a real problem with money, in that when I have a lot of it, I don't think about how much of it I'm spending, until it's too late.  I think I spent about 120, 000 francs on property.  I was a bit worried about having enough money to make it through from one round to the next.  However; getting two thousand francs instead of  two hundred dollars helped.  I finally started getting some revenue back when people started landing on places that got me between a thousand to three thousand francs when someone landed on them.  I dunno if I just never played it correctly, but it was pretty good.

We ended up doing pretty well, until we started doing the auctioning off of the properties.  We only had one, and I had no idea what I was doing.  I kind of just got confused, and after it was explained, I ended up offering 50, 000 francs.  Funny enough, my little niece ended up taking it, at 100, 000 francs.  I was kind of glad that at that point we stopped.  Leave it to the husband to have a crisis at that point, so we were done.

Later that night, we had originally talked about watching a movie but we were all together, and we decided to play this game called "le jeu de bac."  So I'm thinking, wait, what, so this is going to be like a general knowledge questions type thing?  But no, it works slightly different.  You pick a certain number of categories, boy's names, girl's names, fruits or vegetables, things like that, and then you think of a word that starts with the letter that someone calls out.  So let's say you have the categories that I listed before, and someone says the letter R.  So then you would need to write down something for every category.  If you have the same response as someone else, you don't get a point, but if you are the only person with that response, then you get a point.  The object is to think about something that no one else would.

It's more fun just to watch what other people think of.  Like the joke is to have something like careers, and see what people put down.  We had C for example, and some people had couvrer, chanteur, chimiste, etc.  It's an interesting to hear the responses that people come up with, and even better when people mess up.  There was a section to name a city and after a country.  Some people would put one in the other or two cities or states.  A few people also had issues with not playing entirely within the rules, like when some people would cross the idea out and write something else in, but not be very subtle about it.  it was a good time, and definitely more convivial than a video game.

So just a couple of the games I never knew but I had a good time playing.

Je poussai un soupir....

I've been doing a lot more reading lately, in hopes of bringing up my speech and writing level in French, and I have to say French is amazingly poetic.  I actually posted a bit about this on Google + (If you don't have it, get it!) and I just have to say again how impressed I am with French newspapers.  We're not talking about just the major papers either.  I mean, yeah, read Le Monde or Libération, and you're doing to find beautifully written articles by some amazing writers, but just take this excerpt I read from Ouest-France:

". . . mettant ses pas dans ceux de celui qui voulait 'changer la vie.'" [emphasis mine]

That pass right there is so poetic in my opinion.  Even translating it into English it's poetic: to walk in the footsteps of those who wanted to "change lives."  I dunno if maybe I'm just biased, and it's not like Ouest-France is comparable to the local paper I grew up with that served a county and a half, but it's just beautiful to watch the way words and phrases go together.

Speaking of Le Monde as well, did you know that the proofreaders for the paper have their own blog?  I've been reading for a few years, and you can find it here.

I also borrowed my sister in law's copy of Kafka sur la Rivage by Haruki Murakami.  I loved Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, and I was really looking forward to reading IQ84, but I wanted to read it in English just to make sure that I got everything.  We got into a conversation about it back when we visited in May, and she said that she'd lend me IQ84, because they had the three books of it, but only after I read Kafka sur la rivage.  She said she felt it was essential that I read it to understand more about IQ84.  So, challenge accepted.

One of my big fears about reading in French is that I'm always sure I'm missing something.  Sometimes when I talk with people, I have these clips where I miss a word, and I can't fill in the blank.  I can make educated guesses, but by then, they're on to something else.   It's like when you're watching TV and it cuts out as someone says something important, like the verb in a sentence.  It takes you a minute to place the word back in the sense you need.  I guess the best way I've found to know if I'm getting what's being said is to imagine the scene.  If I can see the scene in my head, I usually have a pretty good idea of what's going on.  I guess it's just that.  often subtlety is lost on me.

It took me about a week straight of reading whenever I had free time, which I consider pretty good.  After all, Murakami isn't known as light reading, but the book is also 638 pages.  All in French, and I have to say I was a little wooly in the head when I finished it.  It's like that with any book though.  I don't know if it was the translation though or what but they used the same words and phrases over and over again.  I now have a deep and intimate relationship with the past tenses of "pencher, pousser, secouer, and hocher."  Fortunately, they're all first group verbs so figuring out their origins was easy.  My best guess as to what it was so repetitive was that it was translated from Japanese into French, and therefore there are only so many ways to express such things correctly.

So I'm very proud that I was able to finish it and like Hard Boiled Wonderland before it,  I loved it.  I'm looking forward to starting IQ84 soon, but we'll burn that bridge when it's time.

All of this, of course, to say that I love reading French, and I hope to do it more in the future!