Deadline for the next issue

The deadline for article submission for the next issue of Parlons is this coming Monday (9th November).

If you’ve been working hard all reading week, then why not take a break by putting put pen to paper in the name of Parlons?

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See it here.

The first ever Parlons poll!

Parlons Issue 10bis

“This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

The ever-lingering prospect of an ‘end’ has never evoked that much fear into me, for even the most distressing conclusion of a certain aspect of my life must always lead onto other, sometimes greater, things. As it stands, I leave ULIP following the completion of my final exam on the 5th May, but ULIP will never leave me. The joys and sorrows that this building offered for my £9,215 sometimes seem like a waste of money, and other times far from it. I have learnt a lot during my time in Paris, the majority of this education taking place outside the realm of lectures, and I truly believe that these formative years of mine have been spent well. 

“I’m not the boy that I used to be/This town has got the youth of me.” 

But Paris must be consigned to the realm of memory for me, it must. That’s not to say that I have given the city all I can, and by no means has Paris given me everything it has to offer either, but the itchy feet that come with early adulthood are getting harder and harder to ignore. Obviously, this sentiment is purely an individual one, I’m certain that there are those among us who could never envisage leaving, and others who yearn for their native shores.

« Et le ciel de Paris/A son secret pour lui »

Nevertheless, the Paris that I know is in a state of flux. Permanence is something that cities find hard to master, as soon as I board the Eurostar for London, tearful goodbye over, promises exchanged that we will write to one another, Paris will change, maybe into something unrecognisable – it depends on the length of our separation, or my exile – but I still know that whenever I decide to rekindle the fire that has plagued me for the previous three years, that this city will still accept me with open arms. It’s the least it could do.

Paris, we may be breaking up, but we can still be friends.

Bonne lecture,

Alex

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Issue 10bis Contents:

• Billy Crocker’s Baking Corner
• Entre Guillemets
• Culture Vulture – Summer’09
• Arrondissement Guide – 1st
• Arrondissement Guide – 5th
• Arrondissement Guide – 10th
• Arrondissement Guide – 13th
• Arrondissement Guide – 17th
• New Towns – Evry, Melun and Saint-Quentin-En-Yvelines
• Les Vendanges
• Michael Jackson – The Way He Makes Me Feel
• The Kids All Dream of Making It, Whatever That Means
• Those Who Can, Teach.
• What’s the point of 3bis?
• Letters
• Baldy Makes It Better

Baldy Makes It Better

Following the death of Natasha Richardson after an accident on the slopes of Mont Tremblant in Canada, skiing has taken a bit of flak. Strapping two planks of wood to your feet and going down a mountain at ridiculous speeds… MADNESS I TELL YOU!!! Man up. It’s fun. If Baldy can do it and come back with an impeccable tan, then anyone can.

Dear Baldy,

On the ULIP ski trip to St Jean des Arves, I had an accident. Not a painful one, no, more a wet one. My fellow skiers and I had had a few of the local alcoholic delights at the questionably Irish ‘Paddy’s Bar,’ when we decided to call it a night. We went home, had pizza and I pissed on the floor. I can no longer hide my shame; what do I do Baldy?

Ivre of Ivry

Dear Ivre,

BAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAA!!!! I remember that happening! You were well drunk!! The NHS recommends drinking less caffeine and doing pelvic floor exercises. Being an expert on the subject, I recommend a toilet.

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Dear Baldy,

Following the ski trip, I looked in the mirror to realise that I had what can only be described as a patchy tan. I look like a three year old’s attempt at drawing a panda. What do I do Baldy?

Patchy of Passy

Dear Patchy,

Be thankful that you, like me, are one of the lucky people who can tan. Spare a thought for those who can’t. Although new studies have reveale just in time for summer that the appeal of tanned skin may finally be waning : 63 % say they are not more attracted to someone who is tanned and 53% of people surveyed believe they don’t look better with a tan. So if the reason for your tan was to look sexy in the eyes of the opposite sex, your patchy achievement was completely in vain. Gutted.

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Dear Baldy,

I have been trying and failing to write my dissertations for weeks now. Every time I open the documents I get distracted by food or the dishes or Facebook or putting all my CDs into alphabetical order, or by absolutely anything really. I just can’t concentrate and I certainly can’t find the motivation to do much work. It’s only the night before when I end up staying awake all night that I manage to get anything typed up in time for the 1pm deadline. Is it that I don’t find the work stimulating enough? Or am I just plain lazy? What is wrong with me?

Distracted of Diderot

Dear Distracted,

Don’t panic. It sounds like you have what all students suffer at some point (or all points) in their academic lives: ‘procrastination’. This is sometimes considered a mechanism for dealing with the anxiety of starting or completing something and comprises counterproductive, needless and delaying behaviour. It’s not the end of the world. At least your house is tidy and you do eventually get your essays in on time. Perhaps it would be useful to take yourself away from home. This way there would be no household chores to occupy you. Why not try going to a library? Perhaps avoid the LRC at ULIP as there are too many people to talk to, but instead, try the Pompidou. On the other hand, you could try convincing yourself that the deadline is a week or so before it really is. Then you will have time to check over what you’ve written before you have to hand it in.