When I Think of Home

...I think of a place where there's love overflowing...

 

 

I wish I was home I wish I was back there with the things I've been knowing...

 

 

 

 

SO I'M HOME LOL

 

 

After going to a party then not sleeping Friday night, I went to the airport and got on flight 45 back to JFK from Charles de Gaulle. They ought to rename that flight 'The Student Flight' during December cuz it was 90% students. At one point the gate agent started calling out French last names to report to the desk; I am convinced they put all the French people in one section of the plane and sequestered them away from the students. FINALLY 8 hours later I landed in JFK and walked five billion miles to get to border control, then waited hours to get my checked bag, go through customs, re-check my bag, go through JFK security, then RUN to my gate...cuz I had 50 minutes between flights from NYC to RDU. But it was OKAY cuz Father Bruce came and saw me at the gate and walked me to the airplane and ahhhhhh I missed him so much. He told me he was gonna come see me at the gate...it got down to five minutes before the doors closed and he still wasn't there. Then, I saw what looked like a very tan Ben Stiller wearing a pilot's uniform and a long black coat running towards the gate. IT WAS DAD. Naturally I started running, too, and then we were hugging and I never ever wanted to do anything but be with my family for the rest of my life. 'Don't ever let me leave the country like that again!'

 

Just over an hour later I touched down in NC. Got off the plane. Started crying. Stupid smile of joy plastered on my face. Walked down the terminal to the exit to tunnel leading to the entrance of the airport. Suddenly I saw a little blonde head attached to an adorable body; she was holding a sign that said 'WELCOME BACK TO THE USA, RYAN TRIMBLE.' I started running, not worrying about if things were gonna fall out of my three open carry-ons. Then WE were hugging and crying and I said, 'Don't ever let me leave the country like that again!'

 

I'm home now. I never again wanna leave the USA for a long-term trip. Hanging in Raleigh for a while before I go to GEORGIA to see my grandparents (don't tell them, it's a surprise! Seriously. Don't do it.) then to WILMINGTON to see the rest of my family. 

 

France was neat, but really, let's be honest: a country that doesn't have Chicken-Fil-A can't keep my interest for an extended period of time.





On n'est vraiment bien que chez soi/Oh damn it's décembre

Well would you look at that.

Almost exactly four months ago, I left the United States to embark on a really weird trip. I was finally going to study and live in a country and city I had dreamed about like literally since I could form phrases: Paris, France. At the time, I looked like this:

That's me, on your left. With Father Bruce

Now, it's 16 December 2012 and I'm sitting in the classroom of IFE, trying to write a 30 page paper that is due in five days. I've written 8 pages. Now, I look like this:

Me, still on the left, no longer with Father Bruce, but with Girl Ashley

What have I learned while I was here? I learned that whoa France is really far from America. Like, I thought living in New York was far from North Carolina. That now seems like a quick trip to Knightdale (lol Wake County jokes) compared to the distance between here and there. I still remember the very first day I got here. I had lugged my bags up and down several different flights of steps on several different stops on le métro cuz the stop that would get me directly home was closed or something (there was chantier at La Chapelle) and finally arrived at my foyer. I opened the door to my room...and the door practically hit the back wall as it swung. The room, as I later described it, was like a very nice prison. Basic, cold, unwelcoming, but not uncomfortable. It was just the right amount of space for one average sized person to inhabit for a short time...a far cry from the LITERAL hotel room I lived in on campus at UNC-W.

Never in my life have I felt for acutely alone, more completely isolated than when I opened that door and saw the cement floors of room 304.

But that didn't last. As soon as classes started, I started seeing my classmates on a regular basis. And yet, I still felt out of the loop for a long time. They were mostly from private liberal arts school and they were studying things like 'How to get eyes to blind kids in Zimbabwe' and 'The sun might explode soon: how to stop that' and I was over here like, 'Hey, wanna hear a real good fart joke?' I just didn't click with them. There were one or two who I knew I fit with right off the bat (lookin' at you, Ashley and Ingrid), but for a long time, I got this weird vibe from a lot of my classmates.

But then I was like, 'Ryan. Don't be a little bitch. One of your favorite books is 'Atlas Shrugged'.'--this is still me talking to myself, you know--'Would Dagny feel bad for herself cuz she felt like she didn't fit in? No! She'd go out and make a name for herself and built a damn railroad!'

So then like in a weird way that translated into, 'You're in Paris, stupid, don't screw it up.'


What I think I failed to realize was that these things take time. These people had no idea who I was, and I had no idea who they were. So there was certainly an uncomfortable time where I felt even more alone, and more isolated, and all I wanted to do was to go back home. May it be said that, as the semester went on, I got to know and love these people. They were so unlike people I knew back home and, even though we sometimes disagreed about certain things, it was fantastic to talk to each and every one of them. I could write  kind things about each and every one of them, from Mariama, who showed me what it's like to love everyone and try to see the best in people, to Eunice, who has a fantastic biting sense of humor, to Lena, who I bonded with over our love of theatre and improv, to Theresa, who is easy to talk to and laugh with, to Amber, to Ingrid, to Ashley, to José, to Clara, to Clara, to Maddie, to Elise, to Anca, to Katharine, to Julian...to the entire class...I could just go on and on about each and every one of them.

Our vacation time between classes and starting our internship gave me a nice opportunity to hang out with Ashley Hartshorn, who turned into pretty much my best friend here. Luckily, she lives in NJ, so I will CERTAINLY have the chance to see her again. We had some great, weird, unrepeatable times in Vienna and Munich. Thinking about it now, THOSE are the times when I most felt like a world student; not when I was studying, but when I was traveling, seeing the world, drinking (sorry, Mom), then rolling up to the hostel at 4 in the morning hating myself but knowing I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I started bettering my situation when I got to my internship at KM Productions, where I worked for Le Grand Journal. If you don't know what that show is, I don't care. But here's a picture of me in costume for a sketch I was in:

Zhuh ray-pray-zant les Ay-tas-Oo-nee.

My co-workers liked me. I found a great friend in my intern buddy, Aurélien Digard (ce connard), and I got to act in several sketches on-air, two of which were EN DIRECT LIVE! which was awesome (and I didn't screw it up too bad on the air). I made people laugh, people I didn't know, once again fulfilling the self-made prophecy that I am meant to be a comedian.

Aurélien Digard, the French killer

I've gone out to les bars a few times while here, and it's always an event. Usually we have Ashley in tow and literally in under three seconds some European is hitting on her. Like LITERALLY we walk in and it just happens; my big brother instincts kick in hardcore when I'm out with lady friends, but sometimes I just have to step back and say, 'They're adults, kinda; let them do their thing...now where's my Tequila Sunrise?' Bars are fun places to meet people, and I don't mean 'meet' people, I do mean just talk to people. So many silly, interesting, outrageous conversations have happened at bars around Le Pantheon, and they're usually in a muddled mix of English, French, and sometimes German. I gotta go out more when I get back to Wilmington. (Cuz Wilmington is totally equal to Paris.)

And now, it's December. I sit in IFE, currently surrounded by my classmates, my friends, as we all try to forge forward on these mémoires and also not eat all of the stacks at once. Looking back on my time here, I wish I hadn't moped as much as I had at the beginning, but that's life, I suppose. I learned from it, and I'd rather have learned from it than not done it at all.

And all of a sudden it's hitting me...this time next week I will be back in North Carolina, sitting on the couch watching TCM with Mom and five hundred cats. Paris will labelled 'fall semester, senior year' in the rest of my life's discussions, and all the things I've done here will be only mémories--except for my TV appearances, which I have on DVD and are going RIGHT onto my acting reel...when I make one.

I am going to be so happy to go home. But I know, as soon as I say goodbye to my co workers on Thursday, as soon as I hug my IFE pals goodbye, as soon as I get out of the taxi and walk up to le comptoir at Charles de Gaulle

Hold on; crisis. Ingrid is trying to cite 'a quote within a quote.' What even is real life.

Okay right so as soon as I walk up to le comptoir at Charles de Gaulle, I'm going to want to turn around and yell, 'NON ! TAXI, REVENEZ ! C'est pas l'heure encore !' But the taxi will be gone and I'll have to hurry to get through security, doing my best to prove that my bulky square bag is full of books and NOT lots of geometrical explosives.

I'll get through it. I always do. I may look like I'm made of bendy straws stuck into a wad of gum, but inside that damp Wintergreen mess beats a determined, fearless heart. 'Don't stare backwards,' it says, in a weird gurgly voice cuz it's pumping blood through my aortas. 'You can look back, you can think back, but whatever you do, don't stare...but don't forget either.'

Pour terminer, I just wanted to say that I am so happy to have met all the people I've met while here. A large percentage of you I will never see again, but let me just say...it's been fun. I'll see you on Facebook...a lot. To close out the blog, I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite films of all time, 1939's 'The Wizard of Oz.' Dorothy wakes up in Kansas after her adventure over the rainbow; her family is all around here, asking her questions, telling her that her dream is over and everything is alright now. She finally blurts out:

'But it wasn't a dream. It was a place. ... No, Aunt Em, this was a real truly live place and I remember some of it wasn't very nice, but most of it was beautiful--but just the same all I kept saying to everybody was "I want to go home." ... But anyway, Toto, we're home! Home. And this is my room, and you're all here and I'm not going to leave here ever, ever again. Because I love you all. And... Oh Auntie Em! There's no place like home!'

Me and My Flip Flops

Okay SO here's the deal, Paris. Yeah, it's November. Yeah, I'm wearing flip flops. YEAH, they're red and awesome and stain my feet. But YOU ALL have no reason to stare at them then whisper to your neighbor about them.

THAT HAPPENED. I was on the métro yesterday, just listening to my iPod, minding my own business. Two girls are sitting across from me. One of them looks down, sees my flips flops, then POKES HER FRIEND, points at my feet, and whispers something.

And this is not an isolated incident. This is NORMAL when I'm wearing flip flops.

It's a very bizarre trend that I fully hope to further exploit before I leave. Seriously, next time I catch someone looking--and I will catch them, cuz I catch them EVERY TIME--I'm gonna go, 'Is there something wrong with my feet? Are you AGAINST comfort? You want me to waste my socks when it's a perfectly decent temperature out for wearing flip flops? DO YOU HATE LIBERTY?'

And then they'll be all, 'Oooh, I love your accent, are you from England?'

An F-List French Celebrity

No, I'm not talking about any of the cast members of 'Danse avec les stars'...I'm talking about MYSELF.

When I started working at 'Le Grand Journal' in October, there was a good two week period where I sat in the offices and did literally nothing till 4pm, when I would awkward my way over to the studios and pretty much just be in the way till the show wasover at 8pm.

THAT ALL CHANGED one day when, I was on the set of the show, backing away from the now unwinding pile of cord that I had just been using as a foot stool, one of the crew members grabbed me and Aurélien (the other intern, who is a Frenchy and also an all around awesome guy) and they were like. 'Go put on the vegetable costumes.' And I was like, 'Lol do what'--not cuz I didn't understand what was said, but because I DID understand what we had been told to do.

Skip ahead an hour, and this happens.

Oh yes. I was a dancing carrot on French TV.

From there, things only got better. Knowing that this was an option to me, I made sure that the gentlemen who wrote the little sketches throughout the show KNEW that I was d to do pretty much whatever they wanted. This lead to my next appearence, where I appeared naked in a bathroom with the co-hostess and the weather girl (which I currently do not have video of...currently). This came about because Daphné (co-hostess) had asked literally every other guy in the entire building if they would do it. Everyone said no. She asked me, half joking, and I was like, 'Obviously I will.'

SOOOOO from that point on, they knew I was good for pretty much everything.

This lead to my appearences as a man who came back from the dead, a corpse (different than the first time), and another naked guy.

BUT my highest point, my apex (and not the suburb of Raleigh lololol NC jokes) was during the election week, when I was selected to be the American reporter during a segment called 'Chez Moloud', presented by Moloud Achour. The best part--I GOT TO SPEAK. I had a SPEAKING PART in a comedy segment in France's BIGGEST TV SHOW. I showed up 6 different times with Mouloud. Oh, what, you want to wath them all in a row?

HERE THEY ALL ARE:

http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid4736-c-chez-mouloud.html?vid=759135
http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid4736-c-chez-mouloud.html?vid=759134
http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid4736-c-chez-mouloud.html?vid=759171
http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid4736-c-chez-mouloud.html?vid=760825
http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid4736-c-chez-mouloud.html?vid=761191
http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid4736-c-chez-mouloud.html?vid=761238

Me and Mouloud à l'antenne

Okay; for those who just know me from Prof. Juall's classes as some vaguely mythical figure, or who just know me from that one time I was on 'Millionaire', or as the cameraman in this video, you may not know that I am a sketch comedian.I want to make people laugh, and I want to be paid for it. So, I did not take these appearences on LGJ lightly. I took them as seriously as one can possibly take such silly things. And my work  paid off, because, as you can see, Mouloud had me on SIX TIMES.

It would have been different if it was a one-off, nice thing they did for an intern. But the fact that they asked me back several times meant they knew I was good. And for someone else to recognize that is very affirming, especially when it's in the exact field you would like to get into. It'd be like a scientist telling another scientist, 'Hey, man, that equation is pretty sexy' or an architect telling another, 'You designed one hell of a bank the other day, girl' or like uh a beggar telling another one, 'Bra, you looked super pitiful this morning, and I really appreciate that.'

OH WAIT OKAY so the title of this blog comes from a thing that happened this morning.

No performer performs into a void. We all perform for someone, to elicit some reaction from someone. And, as lauded as one can be by their peers, there is NO reaction more satisfying than the one we all crave: a stranger stopping us to say, 'Hey, I know you from blah blah blah' except they DON'T SAY BLAH BLAH BLAH THEY SAY SOMETHING THAT YOU'VE DONE AND YOU'RE JUST LIKE AHHHH I LOVE THIS KIND OF THING.

Of course, we do not perform solely for this response, but it's nice when it happens.

It was 2am. I was sleeping. Then, I hear doors banging open down the hallway and loud voices. 'Everyone in the hallway, we smell smoke!'

I was rolling around, half-awake when the bang came on my door; I jumped out of bed, pulled on a pair of pajama pants, and went to the door. 'Do you smell any smoke in your room?' the fireman in my doorway asked. He had to repeat it because it was 2am and my brain hadn't turned on yet. When I understood the question, I said, 'No' then watched him walk away.

It was then that I saw the guy in the doorway across from me. Somehow he knew I was American, so he started talking in American right off the bat. 'Hey. Califorinia,' he said, as if saying your home state is a proper way to introduce yourself. 'Hey. North Carolina,' I replied, and my bastard Long Island/Raleigh accent never sounds stronger than when I pronounce the name of my state--I invariably sound like a Jewish grandmother when I say the words 'North Carolina'...and I can't transcribe the sounds, but if you see me in person, ask and I'll be happy to speak words at you.

Anyway, after some small talk--oh okay also please note I have NEVER seen this guy before in my life--he goes, 'Uh, I don't know if you know this show, but there's a French TV show called, uh, 'Le Grand Journal,' and there's this guy on it that looks a lot like you. I don't even know if you know the show, but--'

'THAT'S ME,' I said, smiling as much as my tired face would allow me.

'WHAT?' California said. 'That's...what???'

Yes, it was very what. The thing I had been waiting to happen for weeks, the thing I had been craving from every stragner in le métro, the thing I had desired every fast food employee to say to me, the thing I had longed for from LITERALLY ANYONE I didn't know came at 2:50am, in the hallway of my apartment building, from a stranger from California.

Like I said, I do NOT perform SOLELY to gain these moments...but really, there's nothing like it when it finally does happen.

I just hope next time I'll be wearing a shirt.

Sad News, Guys...

Hey guys.

Sad times...my Mac crashed...so that means, no more vlogs for probably the rest of the time I'm in France.

BUT GOOD NEWS I CAN READ AND WRITE so I'm gonna try to continue the vlogs as...blogs...

For you who haven't yet experienced the glory of my vlogs, here they are...all three of them...

Vlog 1: Différences culturelles

Episode 2: In which I anger an Old Man

Episode 3: L'opéra Herbal Essences