Seeking Work

I've returned to freelance writing and editing again to make money. I'm mentioning this because I'm seeking to put my name out in the world in as many ways as I can so as to attract more business. I realize this blog may not be the most prolific or effective way to advertise, but every little bit can help. So if any of you who read this blog (the few, the proud, my relatives and friends) hear of people looking for an editor or a writer, I would be extremely grateful if you were to pass my name along or refer them my way. Interested parties can check out my iFreelance portfolio here (thank you, Dad, for referring me there) and my LinkedIn profile here.

Or if you have ideas for resources that might be helpful, I'd love to know about them. Ditto for suggestions to improve my profiles, etc.

Thanks three million times.

Update: For whatever reason, the links I provided above for my LinkedIn profile don't work properly. However, you can find the same links in the sidebars of this blog (---->), where they do work properly. Or you can search for my profile in the People directory. (When sifting through the hundreds of David Clarks on LinkedIn, look for one who's a writer and writing teacher in New York. I know I'm in Paris--I even updated my profile to say so--but LinkedIn hasn't recognized this in the directory, apparently.)

Please Tip Your Servers

Wait staff aren't really anybody, are they? Within their jobs, they exist only to ferry desires from customer to kitchen and fulfillment from kitchen to customers. Same holds true for other serving staff: we tend to ignore them.

I was thinking about this as I walked home from a caf&eactue; this evening: the language we use when seeking service in retail and service environments is really telling. We rarely ask about the server him or herself, and when we do, it's often a surprise to the person behind the counter.

But even so, when asking for things, we typically say "I'd like" or "May I have" or "One [x]", and even if we're polite (please, thank you, etc.), there's a fundamental deprivation of subjectivity that happens in our language in these situations. "I'd like" is a simple statement of our personal desire. It ignores any agency on the part of the person who might help us obtain our desire. "May I have" adds some personhood to the server by symbolically asking the server for something--but it's largely rhetorical now, and it isn't much. And simply stating the object(s) of desire is like pushing a button on a vending machine: we don't give even the courtesy of complete sentences and the interpersonal interaction hinted at by introducing ourselves as a subject. It's interesting to me that with all the variations available to us, we never ask "Would you give me", which would open up an even interaction, human to human.

Quoi

Adding "quoi" ("what" en anglais, and usually interrogative) at the end of a sentence as a sort of rhetorical flourish is pretty common in spoken French. Virginia has been trying to get me to say it and other "French" things so I sound less like a barbaric American (my words, not hers) and more like a fluent francophone. Things like using "quoi" properly are hard to get--it's basically colloquial language and doesn't correspond exactly to the meaning of the word that I learned in school. I've been using "oui?" instead, which Virginia says marks me immediately as foreign. She said something to the effect of "It makes one wonder whether you're Belgian. Or weird."

Since my parents will probably vouch against the former, I guess we're left with the latter. I hope the French will still accept me, quoi.

It Figures...

...that I'd like this picture. And that I'd link to it on a blog titled "Word-Fu". Even though it's a visual joke.

By the way, it's by someone named Russell Weekes. I found it on his webpage among other of his works (some of which I like and some of which I don't). I found the link initially thanks to kottke.org.

Daily Coyote

I found this blog the other day via Cute Overload. Pictures and entries about one woman's experience raising an orphaned coyote pup in Wyoming. Enjoy!

“It is not down in any map; true places never are.”

I've been thinking about city layouts. It goes without saying that Paris is not laid out like New York or Portland or even London. But it seems like European cities (the ones I've seen so far) are distinctively different than US cities. European cities largely seem to grow up and out around initial markets or other central locations. They are a mess of streets zigzagging to and fro and especially in the larger ones, you cannot navigate without a map, or better yet, a book of maps. Londoners habitually carry with them something called an A to Z (don't forget to pronounce the Zed), and I now fully believe the story I had heard that London cabbies study for years before becoming such.

On my way to get bubble tea two days ago, I rode past Rue Nicolas Flamel. I didn't look thoroughly, but I'm pretty sure there weren't any sorcerer's stones there. I also passed Rue de Rohan, but didn't see any horsemen.

Velib'

One thing I've really enjoyed about Paris is fairly new to the city: the Velib' system. Velib' was introduced this June (or early July) by Mayor Betrand Delanoë as an alternative public transportation system in an attempt to reduce city traffic and pollution. It is, essentially, a nearly free public bike exchange. (Velib' comes from velo, bicycle, and libre, free, or libert&eaccute;, liberty.)

How does Velib' work? Funny you should ask. The Velib' system consists of numerous stations situated throughout Paris. Each station includes generally 8 to 25 specially designed bicycles parked at electronic docking stations and linked to a computer terminal that facilitates checking out bikes, finding nearby stations, and getting information. You check out a bike by signing up (with a bank or credit card) for a day-, week-, or year-long pass (1, 5, and 29 Euro respectively) at a terminal and then choosing a bike to check out with your pass. Once you free the bike from its dock, you can ride it anywhere in the city for half an hour before you have to return it to any available dock at any other station. If you're late, you get charged an incrementally increasing fee. If you never return the bike, you have two disadvantages: the bikes are distinctive so everyone will know that you stole one, and you'll be charged 150 Euro for your failure to return it.

Today I needed to go to Shakespeare & Co Bookstore before meeting V and some friends for rehearsal (more on that another time), so I grabbed a Velib' bike and took off north. The bikes are not particularly light and only have three speeds, but you can still get going fairly well with them if you push. And as long as you know (more or less) where you're going, you can make pretty good time. (If you don't, it's easy to get lost; Paris is not easy to navigate without a map.) It only took me about fifteen minutes to go the distance I needed, which was fine with me because it left me time to window shop (faire du lêche-vitrine, or to "window-lick" in French) a bit.

I've been thinking about Velib' a lot lately. I like the system--it has its quirks, but it's neat and clever and accessible. The bikes are already needing a bit of repair, but in general they're sturdy and versatile, equipped with head and tail lights, carrying basket, lock, bell, mud guards, and easily adjustable comfy seat. They're much cheaper than cars and they encourage greater commuter activity. They've been invaluable during the recent strikes (la/les grève;/s). And they create far less pollution than automobiles. Their short range is perfect for city commuting--you can typically get across half the city within your 30-minute free window, and then you can walk or wait for ten minutes to go further. Or if you really need it, you can take the metro, which in Paris is extremely efficient as long as the workers aren't protesting something.

According to Wikipedia, there are similar schemes active in a number of European cities. I'd really like to see this idea take hold in the US, though. I think it would be perfect for a lot of dense cities--New York (provided the bikes aren't stolen or vandalized), Boston, Washington, Seattle, all would be good candidates. Even smaller cities (either Portland, New Haven, etc.) could make good use of such a setup. It would reduce pollution, free up space in the streets by diminishing automobile traffic, and give people a much needed opportunity for exercise without having to buy, store, and protect their own bicycles. Has anyone run into US cities that do such a thing?