Highlights of 2014

Sad Ashlee is sad.  Tomorrow my bestest friend Lauren shall commence a new journey in life as she moves to Wisconsin to work as a graphic designer.  Which means being eight hours from me and likely not seeing her until March.  Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy for her, of course!  But yeah.  Sad.

Anyway.

The time has come for the annual “what the hell happened this year?” post.  For the past three years I’ve made an entry at the end of December “commemorating” all that has happened in the past year, whether good or bad (though I tend to focus more on the good stuff.)  The first year I had this blog, 2011, was mainly about starting at Truman and the steps I took to get there.  The next year was filled with stuff like the Megadeth and Evanescence concerts, seeing The Lion King in St. Louis, turning twenty-one, getting an apartment for the first time, etc.  2013 was all about the summer I spent in Québec—didn’t really talk about much else.

So now we have arrived at the end of 2014.  What’s changed since this time last year?  Well, I’m twenty-three now, a senior in college, and no longer an English major, for starters.  That’s about all that’s really “different” about me.  I just got older and continued with life.  But, as usual, here are some highlights, good and not-so-good.

• Kat got her own apartment last winter, which meant many chances to escape the horrors of campus!

• I began working as a “Reading Room Assistant” in the Special Collections and Archives section of the library.  At the time I was considering a career in library science.  It was definitely an experience, which only lasted a semester.

• I started watching Sherlock and not hating Benedict Cumberbatch, which both Kathy and Lauren appreciated.

• I became Vice President for the National French Honor Society, Pi Delta Phi.  Again, this only lasted a semester, but it was a good experience.  I stepped down at the end of Fall semester so I could focus more on schoolwork in the spring.

• Had a boyfriend for a few months.  That was fun!  (I’m not being sarcastic—it was awesome while it lasted and I’m not bitter about anything that happened.)

• Reached the five-year mark of studying French.  Aww yiss.

• I went to Chicago with the two greatest people on the planet!

• I was a preceptor at JBA, which was an amazing experience and one I’m hoping to repeat this coming summer.

•  I spent the latter part of said summer in Kentucky with my family, probably the last time I was able to do so.

• I created the website for US Bruno Fans, which was officially named Bruno Pelletier’s official American fan club.

• I saw Halestorm in concert!!

• I turned twenty-three.  Pretty awesome.

• Let’s see… what else?  Oh, yeah.  I spent a week in Montréal to look at grad schools!

• I got to see and spend time with my friend, François.

• I attend the filming of an episode of Un air de famille!

• I got to return to Québec City for a day!

• I got to attend Bruno Pelletier’s concert on Thanksgiving and meet him afterwards!!

How do you top that, really?  Honestly, I was having so much trouble remembering what happened during the year other than going to Québec that I had to look back at old blog posts.  Oops.  I can’t believe it’s been a month since I was there, but it has.  I miss it terribly, but I’m desperately hoping that I’ll be back there as soon as August or September.  God, I hope so.

What awaits me in 2015?  Graduation from Truman!  Maybe grad school, maybe teaching in France, maybe something else entirely.  I don’t know.  But here’s hoping it’s good!

Un air, un air... Un air de famiiiiille

Well, we all knew it had to end sometime, right?  And it did, most unfortunately, as I’m sure you know if you’ve been watching my more-frequent-than-usual status updates on Facebook.  I am now sitting in my bedroom in the apartment I share with Kat in Kirksville—we’ve been back since late Saturday afternoon after spending the night at her place in Hannibal once she and her mom picked me up from the airport.  (That was a very long sentence.)  But more on that later—now that Un air de famille has aired, I can finally talk about what happened on Sunday when I attended the taping of the episode . . . and elongate my memories of Québec just a little bit more.

As y’all know, Sunday the 23rd was my first full day in Montréal, which I soon began to call Wonderland for reasons I shall explain in a bit.  I didn’t need to be at Radio-Canada (which was conveniently down about five minutes away by foot from my hostel) until around noon, so I had time to explore the city a tiny bit.  Also, le Bureau de Change had been closed at the airport for some weird reason when I arrived at dear ol’ Pierre-Elliot Trudeau, so I still had no Canadian money other than what Lauren and I had retained from our séjour in Québec last year, which was about $25.  It was enough to get me a pass for the 747 shuttle to the Berri-UQÀM station, but not much else.

My favorite clerk-person at M Montréal, Thibault, told me that I could find a Bureau de Change in the bus station, but at the time I had forgotten that there were two—there was the metro station underground and the local buses on the outside and then the gare d’autocars down the street (or through an underground tunnel), which is where I would later take a bus to Québec City and then Drummondville.  He told me that the bureau was in the gare d’autocars, but I guess I didn’t quite understand, so at around 9 or 10 that morning I headed to the métro station.

Since it was a Sunday morning, the station before the ticketing booth swipey things was virtually empty except for the few people who mill around asking people for spare change.  I must have looked confused, because a man approached me and asked if I was looking for the metro.  I guess my stammered response that I was looking for the Bureau de Change was too I-don’t-speak-French-well-ish, because he immediately began speaking English.  He gave me directions to get to the gare d’autocars in the underground way, and then said he would take me there.  I didn’t have much choice, since he already began walking, so I followed him, albeit nervously and afraid I would get kidnapped.

On the way, he asked why I was in Montréal and where I was from.  He seemed pretty surprised when I said Missouri, and said something like, “Oh, Missouri?  From St. Louis?” I said something like “Kind of,” since I didn’t want to get into explaining what exactly Kirksville is.  To my surprise, he replied with, “Well, at least you’re not from Hannibal!”  This amused/surprised me, as my two best friends are from Hannibal and I myself stay there with them often.  So, just to see what he’d say, I said, “Actually, I am from Hannibal.”  That’s when he got really surprised.  “Really,” he said.  “From Hannibal.  Wow.  Okay!”  I have no idea why a) he knew about Hannibal at all or b) why he thought it was so bad to live there.  But it was amusing.

The gare d’autocars was just a hop, skip, and a jump over the river and through the woods, and the man took me right to the Bureau de Change guichet.  He started talking to someone he knew, and, eventually a security guard.  I overheard a bit of their conversation, and it sounded like the guard was asking why the man was with me, which is a bit sad, since I clearly hadn’t been kidnapped and the guy had been helping me.  He had said he needed money for subway fare,  I think, so I asked him what he needed, and he said he only needed a toonie, which is a $2 coin.  I gave it to him, thanked him profusely for his help, and said goodbye.  It was an entirely nerve-wracking experience, but the guy had been truly kind in helping me, and I wish I could have given him more.

So anyway.  After that I went to the gigantic Archambault right across the street from the station, marveling at how absolutely huge it is, with multiple levels, each one dedicated to different items.  In the “New Releases” section, I saw Bruno’s album, Musique et Cinéma, which made me happy, as obviously I’m not going to see it anywhere else.  I also saw the Jacques Brel tribute album he appears on (of which Lauren also recently won a signed copy from most of the people appearing on the album).  Much to my delight, the new Marie-Mai concert DVD was also there, which I immediately snatched up because she’s wonderful.  I wandered around, grabbed the new Daniel Boucher CD and the Annie Villeneuve CD I’ve been wanting for a while, and explored, drooling over an $85 Notre-Dame de Paris music book containing the sheet music for every single song.  Obviously I couldn’t justify in getting it.  (Plus, it probably wouldn’t have fit in my luggage.)

After a bit more walking around, plus a smoothie at Presse Café, I went back to the hostel to get ready.  I chatted with Heather a bit via IM about my immense worries, despite the fact that deep down I knew everything would be okay.  But hey, I would be seeing Bruno for the first time in a year-and-a-half—of course I was nervous!  I left at 11:40 and headed left down rue St. André, where the hostel is, and then left on boulevard René-Lévesque.   I could see the Radio-Canada building immediately, so it’s not like I could get lost (for once).  Once I arrived, I headed down a long, tarp-covered tunnel that I imagine they use to protect the entrance from snow, and walked into the brilliantly scarlet lobby.  I was immediately approached by a young woman in a red scarf, who said, “You’re here for Un air de famille?”  I oui’d and after making sure I was there alone and not waiting for a group she told me that first I needed to sign a form and then get in line.  I signed said form but then got a bit confused, as the last part of her instructions were a bit muddled, so I went back to make sure what I needed to do and then proceeded to get in line.

After a few minutes, the line of people was led down a long hallway to a table where people were taking names.  I told her my name (in the French way—AshlLAY aySTEP), and she gave me a red raffle ticket, a picture of the UADF logo, and some other paper, and sent me on my way.  However, at this point I was confused, as the people I’d been falling had disappeared.  I went to the place where you can hang your coat, and did so, and asked the guy where UADF was, and he just replied “Radio-Canada,” which was extremely helpful.  Finally I found another employee in a red scarf, and she directed me to a large area with red cords snaking around against the wall to form a line.

I wasn’t too far from the front of the line, which was cool.  The line slowly began filling up, and mostly I just people-watched.  A lot of people had brought kids, a lot of people were alone, which made me feel a bit better about being alone myself.  After a while, around 12:30, an employee came and announced to everyone that we would be going into the studio soon.  She said that they would have to frisk all of us when we entered and stamp the inside of our wrists (not the outside, the inside.  The inside.  Got it?  She was going to stamp the inside.  I think she made her point quite vividly).  After another ten minutes or so, she came back and said, “Everyone from here,” cutting the line off literally right behind me, “come with me.”  So I got to be in the first group!  We headed back down the hallway and to the studio doors, down a flight of stairs, until, finally, there it was!

It was a bit surreal seeing the set in person when I’d seen it on my computer screen every week for the past however many weeks.  And there were so many lights.  There was no ceiling—it was just lights upon lights hanging down like spiders on their webs.  So many cameras and people.  I saw immediately that the people who were standing practically on the stage and who would be on camera most of the time were all part of groups supporting the families, rather than just the general public, so I would be sitting closer to the back.  There was a woman directing everyone to seats and asking how many people were in each group so she could keep them together.  I was standing next to the woman who had been in front of me in line, and the employee thought we were together, so kept saying, “Deux?” to us, and finally after our repeated, “Non, une,” she was like, “Oh.  Well, you can sit together anyway, right?”  Which was, of course, fine.  So we sat down and were soon joined by two parents and their two daughters in our row of six seats.

A little while later, the director of the émission came out and had a bunch of fun telling us the hand signals he would be making to get us to applaud, sit down, stand up, all that fun stuff.  There was one little girl in the front he felt wasn’t happy, so he called her onto the stage and got her to get us all to applaud, and ended up giving her and her little sister a Garfield book.  The two girls’ mother was eventually interviewed on camera for the portion when they talk to the singing families’ family members, but it didn’t go to well, for some reason, which I noticed at the time, and when I watched the episode last night, they cut the whole thing out entirely, which is rare.

Eventually, one of the women who works with the coaches during the coaching process (her first name is Édith . . . I cannot for the life of me remember her surname) along with the choreographer came out to teach the audience the corny-yet-sweet dance moves and the theme song, which we would have to do along with everyone else.  I think we all rocked.

As we got closer to the time of the recording, all of a sudden the host of the show, Patrice L’Ecuyer, came out and greeted the audience.  That was pretty weird, too, having seen him on the show and now suddenly in person.  He greeted everyone and thanked us all for being there, and also gave a basic breakdown of what would happen, saying that it all happened in chronological order as it would once it aired on TV.  Then, all of a sudden, it was time to start.  It was impossible to hear Patrice as he spoke and we were all clapping and cheering, but suddenly the coaches were coming out on stage—first Jean-François Breau, then Bruno, and then Johanne Blouin!

It took me a moment to register that it really was Bruno in front of me.  Like, holy crap, after a year-and-a-half, it really was him.  Even though he was a good distance away and probably had no idea I was there, it was awesome.  I was slightly surprised by the fact that, even when the cameras weren’t rolling, he and the two other coaches stayed on set the whole time—I figured they’d go backstage when they had a chance, but they stayed there, even when there were long stretches when they didn’t have to do anything.  At some point, the director introduced the coaches to the audience, and Bruno was in the middle of drinking, so he just kind of waved his water bottle in response to the applause—it was amusing.  Also during the breaks, the director held raffles for different audience members to win stuff, and he interacted with people, and kept us pretty entertained.  All in all, it was a pretty fun day.

Because they had to get ready for the next taping that evening, they had us all leave pretty quickly.  After that, it was time to meet my friend, François!  It took us a while to actually find each other, but when we did, we ended up hanging out until about eleven o’clock that evening.  He’s like the best person ever—not only did we walk all over Montréal looking for bagels at ten o’clock at night, but he also got me poutine gravy.  (Granted, he had promised a year-and-a-half ago to mail it to me, but we won’t argue with the fine points.)  He doesn’t understand why I love Bruno so much, but hey, François is weird and he likes Miley Cyrus.  So there.

It really shouldn’t have taken me this long to post this.  Oh, well.

I poke you.

Well, here I am once again in the bus station. It's only 11:13 and my bus doesn't leave 'till 12:45, but I had to check out of the hostel at 11, so there wasn't much else to do. Besides, the gare d'autocars is much less creepy than the station de métro, so it's got that going for it. I was so happy to have the room at the hostel to myself last night, but much to my annoyance, three girls checked in at about 7 this morning, not caring that I was trying to sleep, talking and laughing, crinkling bags, turning on lights, running hair dryers... I wanted to punch them all. So I'm a bit grumpy for having gotten a small amount of sleep, but I'll try to survive. Why?  Because it's Bruno Day!

That's right, people: in about eight-and-a-half hours from now, little Ashlee is going to be seeing her favorite singer of all time perform after only one year, three months, and nineteen days. Last time I had to wait nearly five years. I truly can't believe how lucky I've been, to be able to come to Québec, to visit schools, to see friends, and just to exist here in this place I've come to love so much. And if I'd never discovered Bruno, none of this would ever have happened. I wouldn't even be studying French without him. I guess it's fitting that I'm seeing him on Thanksgiving, since I am so incredibly, immeasurably grateful for everything he and his music have brought to my life.

Later...

I'm here. Holy crap, guys, I'm here. I am currently sitting in the lobby of la Maison des arts in Drummondville. No one is here but me, but I'm also an hour early since I was afraid of getting here on time, even though I called a taxi. Speaking of which, the driver was very nice. He asked if I was from here, and when I said no, that I was from the U.S., he seemed really surprised, and was like, "Well, your French is very good!" Words cannot express how happy that made me, especially after being so self-conscious recently. He was very nice, and seemed quite amused by the fact that an American loved Bruno Pelletier so much.

7:18 - people are arriving. So far I'm the youngest. My mouth has gone strangely dry. I have also learned that photos are not allowed. Phooey.

7:21 - I feel. So. Young.

Later...

I am now sitting at the Montréal airport, about 45 minutes before my flight to Toronto.  Before I chronicle the events of this morning, I must finish the events of last night!!

So the wonderful Madeleine, my friend and Bruno's webmaster, arrived not long after I posted that last update.  It was my first time meeting her in person after a few years' correspondence by email, so it was really cool!  We talked, mostly about Bruno, while we waited for showtime to approach.  Once it did, we split up to our different doors, as she was sitting on the left side and mine was more towards the right, in the very front.  Upon sitting down, I was immediately amazed by how close I was.  Like, seriously, seriously close.  I wish I could have taken pictures.

At 8pm, the lights went out, illuminated only on the clapboard sitting on a director's chair in the center of the stage.  Then, just like that, Bruno and Guy were there!  Bruno clacked the clapboard and said, "Take One," and the show began with a piano solo from Guy, before Bruno continued with La maison sous les arbres.  I wish I could remember the exact order of the songs, but I don’t.  I know he songs outside of the new album, such as a medley of Over the Rainbow and What a Wonderful World, Coriace, J’ai posé des pierres, La manic, Le temps des cathédrales, Let It Be, The Color Purple, and New York State of Mind.  There might’ve been others, but my memory is like Swiss cheese as you all know.  He did do all of the songs from the new album, though, my favorite being Lovesong, which he sang as an encore.

One of the first few songs he did was La manic, and as y’all know, he has the audience sing with him at certain parts.  The beginning goes, “Si tu savais comme on s’ennuie à la Manic / Tu m’écrirais bien plus souvent à la Manicouagan,” and has the audience sing the last part three words.  The audience knows it’s coming, so people rarely have any difficulty, especially since everyone knows the song.  Then, at the end, he repeats the line, except the line “à la Manicouagan” goes up on the last syllable.  And though everyone knows it’s coming, people often have difficulty jumping so many notes.  So when he did it this time, I kid you not, every single person dropped out except for me and one other person sustaining that note, at which point Bruno said something along the lines of “Thanks to the two people who sang that.”  I about died, knowing he heard me.  He might not have known it was me, but it was still cool regardless.  The woman next to me seemed to think it was the coolest thing ever that Bruno heard me.  During the intermission when Mad came over to talk to me, I told her that he had been talking about me, and she was like, “Yeah, it was me, too.”  I do think we quite rock.

It went by so quickly.  I checked my watch once during the show just becaue I was afraid of it ending, and an hour had already passed when it only felt like fifteen minutes.  During the intermission, I went out to get a bottle of water, and while I was standing there, a blond woman walked by me to the bar.  I watched her for a moment, my thought process being something along the lines of, “That’s Johanne Blouin.  Is that Johanne?  That’s totally Johanne.  Should I say anything?  No, I’m too scared.”  Johanne Blouin, dear readers, is one of the coaches of Un air de famille and a good fan of Bruno’s.  Though I’d seen her last Sunday at the taping, it seemed to insane to see her there in Drummondville.  Later, when I mentioned it to Madeleine, she confirmed my suspicions and said that yes, it was Johanne.

The second act started off strong with La complainte à mon frère, one of my favorites, a short song that really packs a punch.  For some of the songs Bruno used the recording of the symphonic version, as well as Guy playing on the piano, and he did so for that song, and my God.  The power that man has.  I’ve been to four Bruno shows now—two in October of 2009, one in August of 2013, and now one in November of 2014, and I can honestly say this one was the best in terms of performance.  He and Guy absolutely blew me away.  Everything from the sound, to the props, to the lighting was perfect.

After the show, which ended far too soon, I was greeted with the music of Sarah McLachlan’s song, Fallen, which I love, so I singingly (yes, it’s a word) walked over to where Mad waited off to the side, and together we walked up to the lobby.  She had already told/assured me that Bruno does meet and take photos with fans afterwards.  Most people left, but there was already a small line forming in front of two tables.  She told me that she would wait with me, but that when Bruno came out, she would go off to the side and take pictures since she didn’t intend to take any photos with him and Guy or anything.  Not too long later, maybe 10 minutes max., we heard a woman squeal, at which point Mad pronounced, “He’s here.”  Sure enough, he and Guy rounded the corner a moment later.  Despite my desperate pleading for her to stay in case I fainted, Mad went off to the side, leaving me alone.  I caught her eye at some point and frantically mouthed, “I can’t breeeeathe,” to which she just laughed at me and took a picture.

A couple minutes later, we hear a woman singing, “Un air, un air, un air de famille,” which is the cheesy-yet-cute theme song of aforementioned show.  Johanne appeared in the lobby, grinning as she sang the song, and a bunch of us were like, “Woo!” because we obviously recognized her and thought she was the coolest person ever.  Which she totally is.  She said goodnight to Bruno and everyone and departed.

People took turns talking to Guy and Bruno separately.  The way the line turned out, I got to Guy first while Bruno was talking to someone else.  I managed to sputter, “Vous étiez incroyable,” for which Guy thanked me.  I handed him the booklet of the piano-voix version of Musique et cinéma which Mad had gotten signed by Bruno for a bunch of fans a while back, so I wanted to complete my collection.  Guy signed with an awesome treble cleft, staff, and notes, plus three x’s, which I thought was the coolest thing, and told him so.  I thanked him, and suddenly I was startled by—

“Ashlee!”

Bruno’s proclamation about made me fall over.  It wasn’t an “Ashlee!” of surprise, but more of an “Ashlee! You’ve tweeted me a million times over the past couple weeks saying you’d be here, and now you’re here!”  Seriously, I had honestly been afraid that he wouldn’t recognize and/or remember me, despite my tweets.  Lauren and Kat were certain that he would, but when do I ever listen to them?  Luckily I didn’t take any time to recover at all, and quickly replied with a “Bruno!” in the exact same tone, which he seemed to find amusing.

Obviously exact words are been fuzzy to me, but I sidled over to his table, and he asked me how I was and if I liked the show.  I replied that I was fabulous and that the show had been absolutely incredible.  He signed the picture I had brought that the two of us took together last summer and spelled my name right.

[Let me just take a break to say how big of a deal this is.  There are people I have known for years who cannot spell my name.  Professors, friends, even family members.  My biggest pet peeve is people spelling my name Ashley when I know they know how it’s actually spelled.  There are professors I’ve had for three years who spell my name incorrectly constantly, who reply to my e-mails and, despite the fact that I signed off with my full name, spell it incorrectly.  It feels like such a basic thing for someone to do, to make sure someone’s name is spelled correctly.  It makes me feel like I don’t matter when they’re in such a hurry that they write to me as Ashley when they have had me in very small class sizes repeatedly for three years.  So for Bruno, someone I have only met in person three times before, someone who meets so many people every night after his shows, to not only remember my name but remember that it’s spelled Ashlee meant the world to me.]

Now we continue.  The woman beside me had finished talking to Guy, but Bruno kept talking to me.  Talk about fuzzies.  I had thought it was over, but he kept me there by continuing our conversation.  He asked if I was vacationing in Québec, so I told him that I’d been there for a week for Thanksgiving but was leaving the next day after visiting universities, as I hoped to attend school there, and he mentioned that the weather is a lot colder there, to which I definitely agreed.  I apologized for speaking in English, saying that I should be speaking French, but he replied, “It’s okay, I need to practice my English.” So I said, “Oh.  Well, then I am here for you.”  He thanked me for coming to the show, said he was glad I enjoyed it, and then I stumbled back to Mad—literally stumbled; the woman next to her thought I was going to fall.

I gushed to Mad that he had spelled my name correctly, that he had remembered me, and was all around pretty squealy.  She just laughed at me, which I totally respect.  A little while later, Bruno finally noticed Mad, and was like, “You’re here!” and pointed at her.  Despite her being in the second row and her having been standing there the whole time he hadn’t seen her until that point.

A few minutes later, it was time for pictures.  Mad agreed to take a picture with us with my camera, so I gave it to her and showed her how it operated, and got in line.  What I found funny was that, as soon as Bruno realized Mad was there, he immediately clocked her into her webmaster duties and told people she could help take pictures if necessary, to which she generously obliged.  When it was almost my turn, Bruno was approached by people he clearly knew well, so he was distracted by them and talking to them, which was totally okay.  I knew he wouldn’t leave without making sure everyone got a picture, so I didn’t mind waiting and/or staring.  Then, when it was about to be my turn, a Korean fan around my age approached Guy and asked for a picture and an autograph while Bruno was still taking to the other people.  Then, when they left so other people could talk to Bruno, the aforementioned fan grabbed Bruno for the same thing—autographs and selfies.  Then, finally, it was my turn.

“You want a picture, Ashlee?” Bruno said, or something like it, to which I replied with a “Yes please!”   I even think he said (I think it was him who said it) “Get over here!” and put his arm around me.  Guy was talking to that same fan, so Mad took a picture of just the two of us first.  Then Mad and Bruno called Guy over, so I was sandwiched in between the two of them.  Mad lowered the camera and asked, “Did it work?” I paused and said, “. . . I don’t know.  You tell me,” and Guy said, “That’s supposed to be your job.”  So Mad took another photo (yay for three pictures) and then I thanked Bruno and Guy profusely before stepping away.

But wait!  It’s not over yet!  Madeleine and I hung around so Bruno could come over and talk to her.  Just as he was about to do so, he was approached by the Korean fan for another selfie.  It was cute—she was so incredibly smitten with and star struck by him (not saying I wasn’t), and Bruno clearly wasn’t used to it.  So he came over to Mad and me saying, “Oh, my God, it’s Bruno Pelletier!  I poked Bruno Pelletier!  I poke you!” which I found absolutely hilarious.  I actually reached over and poked him in the arm and said, “Oh, my God!  I poked Bruno Pelletier!”  Teehee.

Bruno said something extremely rapidly in French to Mad, and I have no idea what it was, so we’ll just moved on.  He looked from me to her and said something like, “You’re with Ashlee?  You two are here together?” Mad said she was driving me back to my hotel, so he said, “You’re driving her back to her hotel?  Where are you staying?”  I told him the Comfort Inn.   This exchange went something like this:

Me: “I took a bus in this morning from Montréal.”

Bruno: “Oh, okay.”

Me: “Just for you.”

Bruno: *laugh* “Well, thank you.”

Me: “You’re welcome.”

Bruno then laughed again—I made him laugh oh my gooood—and said he had to go.

Bruno: “I gotta go.” *pokes Mad* “I poke you.” *pokes me* “I poke you.”

I about died.  Bruno poked me, ladies and gentlemen.  We said goodnight, thanked him once more, and we were off.  While we were in the little area between the two main doors and Mad was putting her coat on, we watched Bruno head up a couple of stairs and then remerge a couple seconds later, look around, examine something on the wall, and then look towards the staff members.

Me: “Is Bruno lost?”

Mad: “I think so.”

Me: “Yeah, Bruno’s totally lost.”

A few seconds later, though, he found his way and disappeared.  Before the show, Madeleine had very, very graciously agreed to take me back to my hotel since it would be a forty-minute walk and I didn’t have a way of calling a taxi outside my hotel.  I could have ordered one ahead of time, but I’d had no idea what time we’d be done.  After pointing her in the wrong direction since my iPad confused me, we finally got on the right track toward rue Hains (which we both called rue Hein?).  When we got to the hotel, I thanked her profusely for everything she’d done for me and has done for me in the past, said I was glad to have been able to meet her, and said goodnight.

I’m finishing up this post from the Toronto airport.  But my God, what an incredible evening that was.

From Wonderland to Neverland

 I'm en route to Québec City! I am currently sitting on an Orléans Express bus; we just made a stop in Longueuil, and now it's off to Ste. Foy and then Québec! I set my alarm for 7 this morning... or at least I thought I did. I woke up at 7:30 to the sound of one of my roommates' alarms going off... Turns out I never actually turned on my own alarm. Oops. I got lucky, since the bus was set to leave at 9.

My lack of comprehension of simple un-American things, like kilometers and temperatures in Celsius is really glaring, especially now that I'm on the road. I just saw a sign that said Quéebec: 115, and I was like, "Damn! That's far!" Then I realized... kilometers are smaller than miles. So I whipped out my trusty iPad to do a conversion and, voilà, it's about 71 miles, which makes a hell of a lot more sense. Also, when I wait on platforms for the Métro to arrive, they have screens that tell you what temperature it is outside, and of course it's in Celsius. So when I see that it's 15 degrees, I'm like, "I'm going to freeeeeze!" until I realize that that is the equivalent of 59 degrees Fahrenheit, at which point I'm like, "WOOOO! IT'S SO WARM!"

Later

We now rejoin our story's heroine at approximately 2pm in Québec City.  Okay, so I'm a dumb. I have been seriously directionally challenged all throughout this trip, as evidenced by the fact that it took me three separate occasions to find La Banquise, and now the fact that I had intended to take a bus from the station at Québec City but instead ended up hoofing it all the way because I took a wrong turn. However, my instincts did lead me to the right place in the end, although it took about 30 minutes when it should have taken 15. Oh, well.

So once I got into QC, I turned left too soon and ended up walking down rue St. Paul, which isn't part of the bus route I wanted to take. Nevertheless, I knew I was heading in the right direction, which was toward Château Frontenac, as at some point I saw the very tip of it peeking up over the roofs. Vieux-Québec was to my right, and the fleuve St. Laurent was to my left. Eventually I got the urge to turn right, which turned out to be a good thing, as this eventually led me to a steep hill that Lauren and I often trekked up and down last summer. It was tiring. I made it up that hill and then l'Escalier Frontenac, which is how one gets from Bas-Québec to Haut-Québec if one does not want to use the furnunculaire.

Once I made it up the stairs, I was confronted with the great Château Frontenac, which had become the image of my time in Québec last summer with Lauren. A quick photo later, and I was heading down the familiar rue St. Jean, turning right when I saw the classy-looking-but-not-really McDonald's, to find... Chez Ashton, the poutine joint of my dreams!  God, it was so warm and it smelled sooo good. When I ordered the largest poutine size, the woman asked if I knew how big it was, to I which I replied something like, "Oohh, oui." The fromage was squeaky to perfection, the gravy and fries delicious. Drool. Of course, I couldn't finish it, which is what I intended when I ordered such a large size, so I got a lid and a bag and took off, heading toward the bus stop to the university. (They raised the fare from$3 to $3.25. How rude.)

And so now, here I sit, in the sort of Student Union of l'Université Laval, blending in as if I'm still a student here, even though I'm really not.  I'll probably walk around the campus for a bit, go see the mall and Archambault nearby, before heading back to Place d'Youville and touristing some down rue St. Jean. I've probably given myself too much time here in Québec City, as my bus back to Wonderland doesn't leave until 7:30 tonight, but I'll try to keep myself occupied. It's also quite cold, so I can't really make myself want to go outside again.

In the mean time, it hasn't really kicked in that I'm going to be seeing Bruno tomorrow in Drummondville. I know I saw him on Sunday during Un air de famille, but that was different; I was far away and it wasn't HIS show. Now I'll be right in the front row of his show with Guy St-Onge, and hopefully I'll have the chance to meet them after the show. I really, really hope so. I don't think the bus to Drummondville leaves 'till around noon, but I have to check out of the hostel by 11, so that'll be interesting. I'll prolly just hang out at the bus station and probably sip on a strawberry smoothie. 'Cause that's what I do.

Speaking of the bus station, something interesting was going on while I was there. It looked like a film crew was interviewing this guy in a wheelchair. With him was a young woman with short, black hair in Animé-style clothes, and she kept going back and forth from them to a trash can near me. When I got up to get in line, I looked over to see her kiss the guy in the wheelchair, at which point I realized that they were doing something scripting, like a film or short film or whatever. Practically everyone was staring at them, most looking pretty weirded out by the whole thing. Then, eventually, they both got up, changed clothes right there, and left. Weird.

Later

I made the mistake of taking the bus from the university around 3:30, just as schools were letting out. At some point there was a wall or 12 - 15-year-old boys in front of me, all hanging onto the holdy-on straps above, all grinning and being weird, as boys that age often are. Currently I am sitting in Second Cup of Place d'Youville with a cup of hot chocolate that it supposed to be hot chocolate but is actually mostly whipped cream. When the woman was taking my order, she asked me something, and I didn't understand, so she said it in English, and then continued talking to me in French! It was magical and much appreciated.

I'll probably start walking around rue St. Jean in a little bit, taking pictures of how beautiful it looks at night, especially with all the Christmas lights they have up. I still have like two hours before I need to start heading to the bus station, though, so I'll take my time.  I kinda wish I had taken pictures of Vieux-Québec while it was still daylight, but oh well. Two more hours in Neverland and then it's off to Wonderland!

Later still...

I'm on a bus! Again! I ended up arriving at the station an hour-and-a-half before I needed to, mainly due to panic that I wouldn't be able to find the right bus stop from Place d'Youville, especially since it's nighttime and I don't really have any idea where anything is. But I did find it, and upon arriving at the station, I learned that a bus to Montréal was due to leave at 6:30, whereas mine left an hour later. So I went and asked if I could change times, and the woman told me that I'd have no problem doing that, that I just needed to board the bus now instead of later. Sweet! So here I am! It was a lovely day, but I'm already thinking about what awaits me tomorrow!

Sous le vent, dans le vent, partout le vent!

So beginneth the update I know you all crave whilst I am away in what I have fondly begun calling "Wonderland", the reason for which you all shall learn after Thursday when I chronicle the events of Sunday. (Confusing, isn't it? The reason for the delay is because I want to write about each day with its own entry, and since Un air de famille happened on Sunday, I can't talk about it until the episode airs on Thursday.)

 I am currently sitting the Concordia University Welcome Centre, waiting for my guided tour to start. So far, the same more "interested" in the individual person than McGill was, but that's just a vague impression. I've also already been told that it IS possible for Americans to receive financial aid to go here. Sweet! The campus is more integrated into the city, like l'Université de Montréal, as opposed to McGill, which is like a little island in the middle of the city.

Soooo I got up this morning a little later than normal, which was nice. I woke up at 9 and didn't get up for a half-hour, though I told the young woman who took the top bunk of the bed next to mine that she could turn on the light if she wanted. Today, I decided, is my day to be a tourist. I took the Métro to la Station... Something-or-Other... and walked around Vieux-Montréal trying to find la Basilique Notre-Dame. So I walked up a street, passing the entrance to Chinatown, and made my way around. I got a bit turned around until FINALLY I found it. Actually, I was going the wrong way and turned around to see one of the towers peeking up above the buildings. Oops.

I looooove Vieux-Montréal, and didn't hesitate to take photos, 'cause forget other people, right? I didn't go into the basilica, nor did I feel the urge, but it was nice to see it,  nonetheless. I sat and looked for a while before going into one of touristiest shops I'd ever seen, and also one I have visited each time I've come to Montréal, first with Sarah and Gloria, and then with Lauren. I got myself a Montréal sweatshirt, a necklace, and a keychain, because I am a dork.

After I left, I wanted to go by the restaurant that Garou owns, since it's right by the basilica, but rue Saint-Gabriel is completely closed off due to construction. Sadness. So instead I made my way back to the metro station (which I now remember is Place-des-Armes), taking the same path I did before. Only when I returned to the station did I notice that, if I turned to my right, I could see the basilica right down the street, and that I needn't have gone all the way around.  Oops.

Later

I have returned to the hostel after a long, exhausting day.  I swear, when I return to Missouri, I'll want to sleep for a week, only I won't be able to since I'll have classes two days later.  Oh, well.  I am currently sitting near the kitchen area of the hostel, as the room is filled with three other women who all look ready for bed, despite the fact that it is currently 6:30 in the evening.

The tour of Concordia was longer than that of McGill's, which I guess is to be expected since the campus is right in the middle of the city.  Surprisingly, I liked the atmosphere of Concordia more, which surprised me since McGill is more similar to Truman.  They also have graduate housing, which is awesome.  What I found amusing was that one of the girls going on the tour was the same one from the tour of McGill, the one from Italy.  I overheard the woman in charge of tours saying that, though this tour was small, the one tomorrow will have 60 people.  Holy crap.  This is, apparently, due to "the Americans' Thanksgiving."  Looks like they all had the same idea I had!

After the tour, I headed back to the hostel to relax for a bit.  The wind is and was seriously insane, actually slowing me down a few times and making it difficult to walk.  Honestly, we don't get wind like that in Kirksville - at least not when I've been there.  As I was walking through the doorway to the corridor that leads to my room, my headphones caught on the handle without my knowledge, and snapped cleanly.  As someone addicted to music, this was quite sad, especially since I have two three-hour bus rides tomorrow, a ninety-minute one on Thursday, another ninety-minute on Friday, plus my flight home that day, I need music.  So I went to Archambault and bought a pair of $10 headphones.  Aw yeah.

From there, I took the métro to try to find La Banquise, the restaurant François took me to on Sunday.  I tried in vain to find it on Monday, but it was impossible.  I managed to get extremely turned around.  So I finally found it this time, only to learn that it is currently closed for renovations.  I was not pleased, especially since I was starving.  So, instead, I went to a diner-like place that I'd passed on the way over called Restaurant L'Anecdote and got some of their poutine instead.  It was quite good, though there was far too much cheese and it was not at all squeaky.  Though I'd spoken in French to the waiter the whole time, as I was leaving, he told me the price in English.  GRRRRR.  I'll just pretend he did it out of habit and not due to my slower speech.  Humph.

Other than that, Québec City tomorrow!  WOO!

Smoothies galore!

Though I don't have Internet access at the moment, I've decided to start writing my newest blog entry via iPad, seeing as I have about two hours until my tour of McGill and nothing to do until then.  Speaking of McGill, here I am!   I am currently sitting near the campus entrance, just off of rue McGill College.  It's muddy and gray, but that hasn't impeded me from sitting on this bench and soaking my butt. (Also because I want to go to The Second Cup down the street, but I didn't know it was there and got a smoothie from Starbucks, which was packed, so now I have to wait until I finish my smoothie.)

I haven't taken many pictures yet. I haven't wanted to appear too touristy, even though I am, so I've just been enjoying everything wide-eyed and taking it all in.  My friend François said everything (like the métro stations) seem so much bigger to him when he's with me because he's noticing everything along with me, stuff he never really payed attention to before. I thought that was pretty neat.

So. Yesterday. I won't go into any sort of detail about the recording of Un air de famille until Thursday, when the episode airs, but rest assured: it was awesome.

So instead of chronicling what happened yesterday, I'll recount today's journey thus far! (And probably add onto it later.) François very kindly agreed to come with me on the métro to l'Université de Montréal since I was terrified of taking it myself. It's actually much easier and less daunting than it appears when looking up the routes on the internet, which François tried to tell me, but I kept insisting that I would get kidnapped without him, so he humored me. He even got up a lot earlier than he normally does, which I thought to be quite gracious.

I woke up this morning at 7, though I needn't have gotten up so early since I wasn't leaving 'till 9.  After safely locking away my laptop at the hostel, I headed to la Station Berri-UQÀM to meet François. I was waiting inside the little vestibule-like area, and he came up the escalators and walked right past me, not seeing me, so I had to chase him down. It was amusing.

The first order of business was to continue our task from last night, which was to find bagels. François randomly started craving bagels, and I thought bagels sounded good, so we walked all over trying to find a place. 'Twas quite a good way to explore Motntréal off the beaten track. We finally found a bagel café place that wasn't supposed to close until 11, and we got there at 10, but they closed early. Those bastards. So we got some random junk at a convenience store whose name escapes me despite the fact that they're all over the place.  We went to the same bagel café place which was, of course, open. I got "Un bagel à la cannelle et raisin," and it was quite good. After that, we went back to the Métro and took the blue line to la Station Université de Montréal. I had thought that François would drop me off once we got off the subway, but he helped me find the correct "pavilion" and explored the university with me.  Even after we found the office of the professor who agreed to meet with me, he stayed with me until I had about twenty minutes left 'till the meeting.  We hung out outside the building, talking about literature and renaming mittens.  When he left, knowing we wouldn't see each other for the rest of my time in Québec, I was sad. I am still sad, because he is awesome.

The professor I talked to, Professor Lapointe, was very nice. We didn't talk very long, but she answered the few questions I had, and gave me some things to think about. For instance, I've thought about teaching at CÉGEP here in Québec, and one of the draws was that I might not need a Masters; however, she told me that though that is the basic requirement, most professors DO have a Master's, so I wouldn't be as marketable as them. Anyway.

After we said goodbye, I headed back the way I'd come, back to the Métro station. I rode to the end of the blue line at Snowdon and transferred to the orange line, then got off at Station Lionel-Groulx and transferred to the green line, finally getting off at Station McGill. Surprisingly, I found myself in a mall, which I hadn't expected. However, I made my way out to rue Ste. Catherine and headed west on rue McGill College, got a strawberry smoothie at Starbucks, found the campus, and sat down on the aforementioned bench. However, I am now writing this from a café called Second Cup (which has Internet access - woo!). It's connected to a lovely looking bookstore, so I'll probably check it out before my tour, which is in about an hour. After that... Qui sait?

Later

I am now back at the hostel, taking a break before venturing out into Wonderland once more.  I'll probably go back to La Banquise, which is where François and I went for dinner last night.  Dear God, it's good.  Also, all I've had today are two smoothies and half a bagel, so I'm kind of running on empty.

Most of my room here is empty.  It's a long room with one section at the front with one bunk bed, a small "hallway", and then another section in the back with two more bunk beds.  When I got here, there were two free beds - one in the front and one in the back, both bottom bunks (thank God - I took the one in the back), but now there's only one other person here, and she's got the bottom bunk up in the front of the room.  We've said "hi," but other than that we keep to ourselves, which is totally cool with me.

I quite like this hostel.  Lauren and I stayed here last year, but it was only for a night.  My favorite worker seems to work only nights, and his name is Thibault.  He is, apparently, French, and asked where I learned French, and that it's really good.  (Teehee.  That's not why he's my favorite.)  I've got three more nights here, and then I'll spend my last night in Montréal in Drummondville after Bruno's show since the buses don't come back late enough.  Woo!

Lord, I am tired.  So flipping tired.  I mean, the exercise is great, but I have been walking, and walking, and walking, and walking.  My feet hurt.  But hey, if I want to come to school here eventually, I should probably get used to it.

So yeah, I had my tour at McGill.  Surprisingly, all of the other students there, except for two, were American.  There was someone from New York, Georgia, Rhode Island, and then there was a girl from Italy and then from Montréal.  The tour was fine - the school is nice, very Truman-like in that it's like a little oasis in the middle of the city, with old buildings, and trees, and squirrels.  All of the students on the tour with me were preparing to enter as undergrads, so they were young and with their parents and it was cute.  I didn't learn all that much about graduate studies or the particular department I'm interested, but I've only got the Concordia tour tomorrow, so I may go back after or before.  Tomorrow will also be my "tourist day."  I've held back from taking too many photos so far, but now I've decided I don't care, and if I want to take a picture of the Garou poster in the window of Archambault, then by golly, I will.

God, I love this place.

"Frette en hiver"

The title comes from a line from the song Dégénérations by Mes Aïeux, and means "cold in winter."  Just so y'all know.

So.  I'm here!  I'm writing this from the lobby of the hostel I'll be staying at for the next five nights!  I must say, I am completely and utterly exhausted, but I feel the need to chronicle everything that happens, so... here goes.

We left Hannibal at a quarter to seven this morning, before the sun had even risen.  I must say, it was rather nice to be able to watch the sun rise as we drove to St. Louis.  As someone who quite enjoys sleeping in, I don't get to see sunrises very often.  We got to the airport about an hour-and-a-half before my flight left, and it was pretty damn quick getting my boarding pass.  I can't deny that I was pretty nervous about flying internationally, especially since my last international flight was such a fiasco.  But hey!  It went pretty smoothly, at least at first.

The flight was a little late going to my layover in Newark, but I made it in plenty of time, even though I had to take a shuttle bus to the other side of the airport.  (Seriously, why does this always happen to me?  Why are my flights always so far from each other??)  My gate was C103 - that tells you just how big that airport is.  I got there only to find out that my flight to Montréal had been delayed about a half-hour, then a whole hour.  Then they switched the gate, just for kicks and giggles.  Then I lost my boarding pass and had to get another one printed.  For a long time the screen said the flight was due to depart at 3:45, until 3:30 arrived and they said it would be 3:55.  Originally, I was supposed to get into Montréal at 4:30.  The plane to said city took off at 4:20, and I finally got in at about... uhh... 6:00-ish.

The walk through the Montréal airport to Customs is long.  It just kept going, and going, and going.  When I finally arrived, I was surprised by the immensity of the place, and even more surprised by the fact that it was virtually empty.  It was strange to disembark from the plane and suddenly to be surrounded by French, but I loved it.  Once I dug my passport, boarding pass, and customs declaration from my purse, I made my way up to the first available customs officer and greeted him with a confident "Bonsoir."

The very first conversation I had last summer when we crossed the border into Québec was marred by the fact that the cashier refused to speak to me in French.  This time, I spoke to the customs officer entirely in French.  He asked where I was from, why I was in Québec and for how long, where I was staying, and if I hoped to study here eventually.  Then it was time to follow painfully vague signs to find where the bus shuttles were located.

I finally found the Bureau d'Échange (Currency Exchange) on that floor, but it was, of course, closed.  So I bought a day-long ticket for the bus and, miraculously, got there just as the correct bus arrived.  It was about a 45-minute drive from the airport to the station, with snow flurries, traffic, three Tim Hortons, and one Starbucks.  When I got off, I thought I was lost at first and that I had gotten off at the wrong street, but then suddenly I realized that I was, in fact, fine, and knew exactly where I was.  So I made my way down rue Ste. Catherine, marveling at how much everything had changed since last year.

After hanging out at the hostel for a bit, I walked around a bit, looking for somewhere to eat.  I am ashamed to admit that I picked McDonald's since it was right there and it was getting late and I was starving.  I'd always been curious about what their poutine tasted like, so I ordered that and a small Sprite.  I got that and a small thing of fries.  Now, the word for fries in French is "frites," and I suppose you could mix the two up, except I didn't French-ify the word Sprite.  I said it perfectly Englishly.  Oh, well.  The poutine tasted funny.  I make better poutine than that.  Also, that was the first place someone spoke English to me, despite me speaking French the whole time, so humph.

Now I am sitting at the hostel.  Tomorrow is a big day, what with going to the recording of UADF and then meeting my friend François.  I also need to exchange my money.  WOO.  Exciting stuff.

Je suis certaine que j'suis en train de rêver

I'm having difficulty forming the right words for this entry despite the fact that the words are practically screaming in my head.  Because, holy crapéscule, I had no idea this was even possible.

I'll start from the beginning.

First of all, I have been very depressed as of late.  This was the result of a multitude of things, such as the stress of senior year and the stress in general and being forced to face my future and what awaits me after graduation.  I've struggled with depression since I was a young teenager, but it lately it got much worse.  It was hard to want to do anything, whether or not it was school-related.

So.  In facing my future, I decided that I am going to apply to four different grad schools: l'Université Laval in Québec, and McGill University, l'Université de Montréal, and Concordia University in Montréal.  Trouble is, I've only ever visited one of those four schools, and that was during the summer of 2013 when I was in Québec City for five or six weeks.  Not only that, but it is immensely difficult to find any sort of information about grad programs at these schools, mainly because the websites are huge, and it's just generally impossible to learn, well, anything.

I've always been a rather timid person, and as much as my heart might be screaming at me to do something, I don't often listen to it.  It's taken all the willpower I have over the past year-and-a-half not to just jetset off to Québec just because I could.  Yet I knew that I would be beneficial to visit these campuses.  The bonus?  I've got a week-long vacation coming up for Thanksgiving, and while Truman won't be in session, those schools will, seeing as I'm on vacation for a purely American holiday.

So hey, I've decided to go for it.  On Saturday morning I'll fly from St. Louis to Montréal with a layover in Chicago and arrive at about 4:30.  I return the following Friday in time to return to classes.

But that's not all.

One or two people among you (teehee) may know that my favorite singer in the whole wide world is Bruno Pelletier.  You might have guessed that from my most recent blog post, as well as the account I posted about seeing him in concert in August of 2013 in Lévis.  Well, he just so happens to be performing in concert on Thursday, the 27th (Thanksgiving for us Americans) in Drummondville, a town about an hour out of Montréal.  After checking bus fares (and hotel fares since the buses don't go to Montréal late enough for me return that same day), I decided to go for it.  So guess who's seeing Bruno Pelletier in concert for his Musique et cinéma?  And guess who has a seat in the front row, almost in the very center?

But wait!  That's not all!

Bruno is also a coach on the Québécois television show Un air de famille, which is similar to shows like The Voice and X-Factor, except that the contestants are all families, which the ages ranging anywhere from nine to sixty.  I've been fortunate enough to be able to watch the episodes online a day or two after they air, and at the end of every episode, the host always says something along the lines of "If you want to attend the recording of an episode of UADF, then go to this website!"  So I went to that website and, just for the hell of it, filled out a request to attend one of the tapings that just so happens to be taking place the Sunday I am in Montréal.  A few hours later, I received an email confirming my place, which has officially been reserved.  I have been told to report to Radio-Canada, which just so happens to be down the street from my hostel, at about 12pm.  So.  Not only am I going to see my favorite singer in concert, but I'll also see him on set of his show, and I might be on TV.  Sweet!

But wait!  That's not all!

I'm also (hopefully) gonna hang out with my friend, François, whom I got to see last time I was in Montréal.  WOO!

So what did I think was impossible, other than simply going to Québec again?

Happiness.  Dear God, I cannot remember the last time I was this truly happy.  I understand that I'll still have tons and tons of work to do when I get back, but a week-long break in Montréal will be absolutely incredible.  I can't stop smiling or thinking about what awaits me.  Just being in Québec will be an amazing way to breathe and to rest after an intensively awful semester (despite the cold).  As corny/dramatic as it sounds, I cannot remember the last time I was truly happy.

"Flashback Friday"

I've never really been one to participate in things like "Throwback Thursday," "Flashback Friday," "Maritime Monday" (what?) or even use hashtags on Facebook, but today I couldn't resist.  Besides, I love being nostalgic and thinking about things that happened in the past, whether we're talking 102 years in the past or simply five!

So what am I talking about?  I posted about this back in 2011, but that was three years ago and I haven't really mentioned it blog-wise since then.  Five years ago in 2009 I was fortunate enough to be invited to travel with my two dear friends, Sarah and Gloria, up to Québec for about three or so days to see our favorite singer, Bruno Pelletier, in concert for his Microphonium tour.  The last time I talked about this trip was very brief, so let's delve further into memory lane!

It all started on May 1, 2009.  Sarah remembers this as the birth of her cat, Mina, but that was the day I joined her forum for US Bruno Fans.  I already kind of knew about her since back then Bruno's Facebook page was filled with pictures taken of him with his fans, and Sarah had been up to see him quite a bit, so I recognized her from those photos.  By this time, I had been a fan of Bruno's for about seven months, since October of 2008, while she had been a fan for a lot longer.  Sarah and I began talking quite a bit over MSN (ah, the good ol' days of MSN messenger) and I helped out with the big birthday scrapbook she planned for US Bruno Fans to do, which she presented to Bruno when she traveled up to QC with Gloria for a festival appearance on his birthday.  (Little did I know at the time, but this was also when they got Bruno to sign a birthday card for me, my first ever autograph from him.)  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

At some point between May 1 and August 7, Sarah threw me through a loop by inviting me to go to Québec with her when she went up in October.  I was completely stunned beyond belief.  By this time we'd only been talking for a couple months, if that, and now she was inviting someone she'd never met in person to go with her into another country?  Of course I said "YES, PLEASE!!" despite the worries of people at my church that she and/or Gloria was an ax murderer.

I was seventeen at the time, but I would turn 18 a couple months prior to the trip, so there was no worry about that.  The next few months seemed to positively drag, although they were punctuated by necessary arrangements, such as getting a state issued ID, which was needed to get a passport card, which was needed, of course, to get into Québec.

The plan was thus: my mother and I would meet Sarah at a halfway point between our houses in a hotel parking lot in Salem, VA, then Sarah and I would drive up to Brooklyn, NY and spend the night with Gloria at her place, and then the three of us would head up to Québec the next evening after Gloria got off work.  Such was the plan, so it was.  It was my first time in New York, not that we did much sight-seeing, but it was still cool (in my opinion) since Sarah had wanted to avoid going through Manhattan but couldn't because of a road closure.  Snicker.  Anyway.

We reached the ALT Hotel in Brossard, QC, a town just across the river from Montréal, at about one am in the early morning of the sixteenth of October.  And then we crashed.  The next morning we headed across the river St. Laurence into Montréal and then into Vieux-Montréal to visit la Basilique Notre-Dame.  'Twas cool, despite the fact that the only picture of me in there I look like I'm having a mugshot taken.  After dinner that night we went back to the hotel to gussy up, and then it was off to Terrebonne for the show!

We were running a little late due to construction, so that put us all on edge.  By the time we got there, Sarah had to let Gloria and me hurry into the theatre while she went and parked.  We hurried in and then the ushers led us into the actual theatre.  Let me remind you, gentle viewers, that at this time I had been studying French on my own for six months and spoke very, very, very little.  Gloria was led to her seat by another usher and the other looked at me and said something in rapid French.  I understood not a word.  By this time the lights had been lowered, so she just kind of looked at me helplessly for a moment before leading me to my seat, which was on the left side three or four rows back, all the way against the wall.  Sarah and Gloria were two rows ahead of me.

Just as I sat down in my seat, the music to Ma jalousie started and then, suddenly, there he was.  Bruno jogged out onto the stage to the mic, greeted the crowd, and started singing, just like that.  It took me a second.  I stared at him, thinking, "Huh.  That's Bruno."  And then: "Oh, my God, that's Bruno."  Let me tell you, gentle readers, I bawled.  After a year of admiring him and loving his music, I was finally there and it was actually him in front of me.  Not one of my proudest moments.  I'm pretty sure the people next to me thought I was nuts.

Like I said, I didn't speak French at all at the time.  Two more songs passed and then he started to introduce another one, picking up an acoustic guitar.  He strummed a chord that sounded vaguely familiar.  He mentioned "D'autres rives," which is the album title of my favorite song.  Then he started the line, "Je veux partir loin de chez moi..." from my absolute favorite song of all time, the song Sarah said she didn't think he would sing.  Then I cried some more.  Two rows ahead of me I saw Sarah lean over and say something to Gloria; turns out she was saying she was surprised she didn't hear me scream.  Me, too.

After the show, we waited near the stage and met Bruno's friend and then-background singer, Francesco Verrecchia, who was quite nice and totally awesome.  See?

See?  Totally awesome.  Sarah got him to sign the picture for me when she went to one of Bruno's shows later that year.  (Or early the next; something like that.)

I knew Bruno usually met with his fans in the lobby after the show, but I was paranoid the whole time.  What if he decided not to come out?  What if he left before we got there?  What if, What if-- I'm pretty sure both Sarah and Gloria wanted to slap me upside the head.

True to their word, we were not late.  In fact, by the time we got to the lobby, Bruno still hadn't arrived.  Back in those days I wore wire-frame glasses, which I hated, and took them off to take the picture with Francesco, placing them on the armrest of a chair.  Sarah warned me explicitly not to forget them.  So when I got in line with Gloria, I was not at all surprised to hear her shout at me that I had forgotten my glasses.  Oops.

Note the happiness while awaiting Bruno.

Even while we waited in line, I still fretted that he would leave before we got a chance to speak with him.  However, when he had finished taking pictures with everyone else, he came over to us with a "Hi, girls!" clearly recognizing everyone in our little party.  Except, y'know, me.  I couldn't look at him, despite the fact that he was two feet in front of me.  Or, you know, because he was two feet in front of me.  (Hey, I'd never met one of my favorite singers before.  Be nice to me.)  He talked to Sarah and Gloria for bit before Sarah introduced me.  The exchange went a little something like this:

Sarah: "This is Ashlee."

Bruno: "Hi, Ashlee."

Me: *very shyly* "Hiii..."

Bruno: "Can you look at me in the eyes?"

Ohhhh, God, I wanted to die.  Sarah and Gloria did, too, but mainly of laughter.  And by the time I did look at him, he had turned to Gloria.  Humph.  At some point he asked us to wrap things up because it was late and he was tired (quite understandable), and Sarah told me to move and stand next to him so she could take our picture.  I said, "I am moving."  Apparently I wasn't, because I needed another shove.

Anyway, soon it was time for everyone to say goodnight, 'cause that's just what we did.  We headed back to the hotel and passed out.  The next day we kept to Brossard, going to a sort of Québécois version of Build-A-Bear, where I made a moose.  His name is Monty and I love him.  We also went to a music store where I had fun looking at all my favorite francophone artists that I loved so much but couldn't find anywhere else.  Siiiigh.

When it was time to go to L'Assomption, Sarah couldn't find the theatre on her car's GPS.  At all.  So she went back into the hotel where they were nice enough to print out directions.  Despite this mishap, however, we got to the theatre in plenty of time.  Enough time for merchandiiiiise.  Aw yeah.  (However, I no longer own any merchandise I bought that night except for a Dracula booklet.  Sad.)

This time I was on the right side of the theatre, aligned with the second row but with no one in front of me.  Sarah and Gloria had front-row-center.  Humph.  Things were a little rearranged for this show, and Bruno added a number: Depuis que t'es parti, one of my favorites.  Sweeeet.  After the show, the three of us took turns talking to Bruno up at the table, which is a bit more nerve-wracking for me since I didn't have anyone to hide behind.  However, he remembered my name!  Though he spelled it wrong the autograph.  Which is okay.

Then I went over to stand with the others and wait for pictures to be taken.  I remember, then, finding everyone looking at me, including Bruno and his tour manager, Maurice.  I couldn't figure out why, until I realized that I was standing where they wanted to take pictures.  Whoops.  I got out of the way tout d'suite.  Pictures were taken, we said goodbye, and that was that.

Words cannot express how grateful I was and am to both Sarah and Gloria, not only for taking me with them, but also for putting up with me.  At some point, they threatened to tie my bear, Sammy, to the hood of the car and make him a hood ornament.  Though it's been five years, I still remember the trip vividly, something for which I'm thankful.  It was truly one of the best times of my life.

WOO.  I'm tired.

A bad case of senioritis

There's a bug going around, and it's not fun.  So far it's hit a lot of my classmates, some with the same symptoms, others with different ones.  I caught it about a month ago and it's still lingered like a flea-bitten stray.  The diagnosis?  Chronic senioritis.  Yep, CS has settled onto Truman's campus with full-force, attacking every senior or super senior in sight.  No senior I know is immune.  Symptoms include fatigue, laziness, occasional drunkenness, melancholia, nostalgia, insomnia, anxiety, listlessness, and a general lack of caring.

But seriously, folks, being a senior sucks.  By this point, I'm so incredibly ready to graduate, yet am simultaneously terrified by the future, and yet am also finding it hard to care about anything anymore.  There's so much to think about and worry about: grad school applications, the TAPIF application, my Capstone project, a research opportunity in Québec presented to me recently, the French play, being the Vice President of Pi Delta Phi, peer teaching, not to mention the mounting schoolwork in general where every professor seems to think that their class is a) our only one or b) the most important.

Sigh.  October has begun.  Don't get me wrong: I love October; Fall is my favorite season.  But thank God midterm break is next weekend.  Granted, Kat and I only get one extra day off since we already have Fridays free, but, as she said, one day is one day.  We're definitely looking forward to it, especially since Thursday is one of our most difficult days.  Also, this is the first time since we've been in college that the Folklife Festival in Hannibal has coincided with midterms, so on Saturday or Sunday we'll go down there and take some much needed time away from Kirksville.

In other news, Lauren got back from her séjour in Québec recently and brought me, not only a hard copy of Bruno Pelletier's newest album, but also a small, stuffed moose with a fleur-de-lys on his belly.  I love him.  He is adorable and soft and he is all mine.  French Immersion Weekend was this past Saturday and Sunday.  I take the Praxis exam for French on Halloween.  No play practice tonight.  Biology test next Tuesday.  All of the days are kind of blending together.

I need a nap.

The long and winding September

Nothing has really happened since I last wrote in here, but, as usual, I must keep up with my once-a-month policy.  So, here I am.

Since I last wrote, I have turned twenty-three.  That's probably the biggest news: my birthday, which was the twenty-ninth of August.  It was, for the first time since I started college, on a Friday, which also happens to be the day I don't have any classes this semester, so I got to spend the day at home with Kat and Lauren before going to Colton's for dinner.  I also got my hair re-did.  'Twas a fun day!

Let's seeee, what else?

We went to the Steampunk festival in Hannibal, which was a new thing.  It was small, but it was fun!  Actually, it was just nice to get out of Kirksville for a while.

Ummm . . . . yeah, life's been pretty uneventful.  I'm enjoying most of my classes, but Québécois Literature is definitely my favorite.  It's not just me being biased - I truly do like the literature we've been studying.  I also love the historical/cultural aspect of the class.  The professor has been very helpful to me in thinking about grad school (hopefully in Québec), and she invited me to attend a Scholars' luncheon with her today.  'Twas very nice of her.  I felt special.

Annnnd that's about it.  Bruno Pelletier's new album (with Guy St-Onge) was released yesterday, and even though Lauren is going to pick up a hard copy for me when she is in Québec next week (SNIFFFFF), I couldn't resist or wait any longer, so I just bought it on iTunes.  Halfway through right now, and I love it.  I had some reservations since it's so different from his usual stuff, but it seems Monsieur Pelletier can do no wrong.  I absolutely love it.  Go buy it.  Now.

A Halestorm of emotions

Fldfgkorgkldfgr.

That's the only accurate word to describe the amazingness that was the Halestorm concert.  On August 16, Lauren, Kat, and I drove two-and-a-half hours to the MO State Fair to see one of our favorite bands, Halestorm, in concert.  It was Lauren's first rock concert and Kat's and my first rock concert since Megadeth two years ago.  We were so beyond excited.  In the weeks leading up to the gig, the weather consistently warned of rain and scattered thunderstorms all that day.  It was an outdoor show, and we were nervous, but what could we do?  We couldn't prevent rain or lightning, so we just had to go with it and hope for the best.

We left Kirksville at about twelve-thirty that day, with yours truly as the navigator, and arrived in Sedalia, MO at about three o'clock.  We checked into our hotel (Motel 6 - wouldn't recommend it, but we needed a place to sleep), stopped at a Starbucks nearby, and then walked about twenty minutes to the fairgrounds.  For some reason, I was expecting something along the lines of the Folklife Festival, which is an art fest held ever October in Hannibal.  Boy, was I wrong.  I was repeatedly reminded that this was a state fair.  Yes, sir, it was.  It was huge.  We walked around for a couple of hours, positively melting in the humidity and heat, before joining the lengthening line in front of the grandstand.  All the while, dark clouds continued to roll our way and pass over us peacefully.

The opening act was a group called Sevendust.  God, they were amazing.  I don't know why, but there was just something we all loved about that group.  The lead singer, Lejohn, was fun, and said he was so happy to be there and happy to be able to go home that night, as he lives in Kansas.  At some point, Kat spotted the lead singer of Halestorm, Lzzy Hale, watching from the side, and I promptly freaked out.

The worst part about any show is always waiting for the first act to clear up and waiting for the second act to get set up.  (It was even worse with Evanescence two years ago, as they had two opening acts and I was standing the whole time.)  At least we were sitting.  Our seats were on the bleachers, and the seating map had made it seem like we'd be waaay far away from the stage, but our view was incredible!  No one was in front of us, so it was perfect!  The only downside was that there was a chainlink fence separating us from the track seats, but hey, you can see through those.  While we were waiting, I started noticing lightning off to the right.  So far we'd been immeasurably lucky, but what if the storm approached and they had to cancel the show?  I was nervous, but I kept my fears to myself.

Finally, the light in the stands went out, the lights on the stage came on, and the show began.  Halestorm emerged, and the world seemed to transform.  Honestly, there is something amazing about rock and metal music that I absolutely love.  It's one thing to hear it on your iPod, but to hear it live . . . there's nothing else like it.  To be able to physically feel the drum beats resonating in your body, to feel the music pulsing within you, to lose all inhibitions and just get lost everything - the sights, the sounds, the rhythm.  Halestorm has a song called Rock Show that perfectly describes how I felt at the Evanescence, Megadeth, and now the Halestorm shows.  The song goes:

"At the rock show

You'll be right in the front row.

Heart and soul, we both know

It's where you gotta be.

Yeah, at the rock show,

Getting high on the solo.

So what if it's crazy?

It's where you gotta be!"

Followed by:

"This goes out to anyone

Whose heart beats like a kick drum

When a bitchin' riff comes,

Lose the words to every rhyme, every time

And you know you gotta go

 And get some, get pumped,

Find yourself and lose it

At the rock show!"

That song is perfect.  It's my absolute favorite song of theirs, and I was sooo happy when they performed it at the show.  It's my sort of anthem.  But yeah.  The show was amazing.  It ended waaaay too soon.

Well.  'Tis August 19th.  Today marks the twenty-third birthday of one half of my two best friends, Kathy.  And yesterday was the twenty-third birthday of the other half of my two best friends, Lauren.  Ten days from now, I'll turn twenty-three myself.  Pretty crazy, right?  Three best friends whose birthdays are within eleven days from each other.  (Actually, since one was born in the evening and the other in the morning, Lauren and Kat are only a few hours apart in age.)  Every year, Lauren's parents take the three of us to St. Louis for the day, usually on Lauren's birthday, to celebrate all our birthdays.  This year marked my third trip, though I have a sort of photo collage that represents four (soon-to-be-five) summer trips to the Cheesecake Factory.

So let's go over them, shall we?

June 2, 2010

I first visited Missouri in June of 2010 when Lauren's parents very graciously sent me a plane ticket to fly out to visit for a week without having ever met me in person.  (This was not, of course, the first time I ventured into places unknown with people I'd met on the Internet.)  We went to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner at the Galleria mall in St. Louis and snapped this photo of the three of us.  'Twas the start of an awesome week.

June 21, 2011

Just over a year later, Lauren, her parents, and Kat made the voyage out to Pikeville to pick me up and take me to live in Kirksville, where I have since been studying for the past three years.  When we arrived in St. Louis, we went to the Cheesecake Factory and ended up in a round booth again, so we decided to take the same shot as the year before.  Look how much our hair grew!

August 17, 2011

Our birthday celebration that year was held at Café Provençal, a French restaurant in St. Louis, so we didn't continue our "round-booth-picture" tradition.  As Lauren got slight food poisoning, we never went back and the next year we continued with our original tradition of eating at the Cheesecake Factory.

August 18, 2012

The next year, for our twenty-first birthdays, was exceedingly fun.  Not only did we get to see the Broadway production of The Lion King at The Fox, but that was the year I got my first (and only) American Girl doll, Rebecca.  As someone who spent her whole childhood wishing she could have one, getting one with my middle name who is from my favorite time period was very special to me.  We spent the night in St. Louis, and then, on Kat's birthday, she spent the day with her parents while Lauren, her parents, and I were off to the St. Louis Zoo!

August 18, 2013

Last year, for our twenty-second birthdays, we continued the tradition!  We did the same this year, as well, but I don't yet have access to the picture we took, soooo that'll be edited in later this evening.  I must say, I've always been pretty special in that, since my birthday is eleven and ten days after theirs and school is always in session, I've gotten my own separate celebrations in addition to the ones in St. Louis.  My birthday always tends to have its own tradition, as we usually always go to Colton's, the local steakhouse.  This year my birthday is FINALLY on a Friday, and neither Kat nor I have classes on Fridays!  Lauren will spend the night with us at our apartment, we'll go to Colton's, watch movies (and Buffy and Angel), have cake, and have a blast!  I can't wait!

But until then.  Classes start on Thursday.  I bought most of my text books today.  This displeases me.