If my life were like a Monet painting, maybe I'd be okay with Darren Criss has ruining my life..
Hi, it's me, I'm still alive!
So where was I before Livejournal decided to have massive downtime and I realised how dependent I am on this site for my daily Darren Criss dose?
Well, there's the contract I signed exactly a week ago, infront of my three bosses. They put a pen in my hand and I blurted out I'M ACTUALLY REALLY SCARED ABOUT THIS AND I'M SO GRATEFUL THAT YOU'RE GIVING ME YOUR TIME, BUT I'M QUITE NERVOUS. Then they looked at me and said things about metaphorical hand-holding. So I signed the contract. My new job starts on Monday, with my new laptop. He does have a name, but I'm letting it roll around on my tongue a bit, before I really settle on it. I feel so sorry for my old laptop, Akira, who has being with me all through college and all around the world. It almost feels like I'm abandoning a baby. Oh God, I promise I do actually have a life. (On that topic though, I'm seriously considering putting a Darren Criss wallpaper on my new laptop and letting people assume it's my boyfriend. Best idea ever).
Onwards with my really delayed travel log, which I have lost all motivation for because a month ago I was ten meters away from Darren Criss. I think we can assume that I'll never be ten metres away from Darren Criss again in my entire life, so it's all about being okay with the fact that my life will pretty much go downhill from here.
Day seven in Paris.
Paris.
Paris Paris Paris.
I have issues with Paris. Mostly that it is so falsely advertised. City of Love it is not. Yes, it's got pretty gardens and pretty art and pretty architecture, but I feel like I could probably find more romantic cities in the world. The dirty streets, leaky subway, smokers and the occasional arrogant local really pulled the city down. This said, I will admit to being slightly biased, since walking around in 37 degree heat will pretty much ruin any sort of holiday.
ANWYAY, PARIS.
It has old churches.
It's also full of buildings with balconies, because everyone lives like this. This makes me incredibly jealous.
It also has random fountains and water features scattered around, wherein locals enjoy sunbaking during a heatwave. This particular photo is an outake, where I'm basically yelling JERRY, TAKE THE FUCKING PHOTO ALREADY, MY FACE IS MELTING OFF AND THE BENCH IS BURNING MY ASS.
My mood was lifted considerably when I realised that Nicolas Flamel is still alive and making jewellery.
I forgot all about the heat when this arrived for me to eat. Paris, I may dislike you for many reasons, but I love you for the food. THE FOOD. I'd go back just for the food. It's borderline hilarious and disgusting the amount of raw meat and foie gras I ate in Paris.
Walking around The Lourve, I was distracted from the heat by the impressive architecture. This pose is called the Maybe I Do Love You A Little, Paris pose, wherein one clutches their heart while doing a little jig.
My very first glance of the Eiffel Tower, which made me clutch my heart more and supress I'M HERE, I'M REALLY HERE squeals. I'd also like the point out the man on the segway behind me.
I'm too lazy to google the name of this thing, because I can't spell it. Meh, is all I thought when I saw it. Also I was going to faint from heat exhaustion because I ran out of water and we had just walked from the Lourve to this. I don't know how many kilometres that is, but I know that it's too far. At least I smiled for the photo!
By far the best part of my entire time in Paris was the Musee de l'Orangerie, which houses huge Monet paintings. These have been on my Bucket List ever since katharrine went to Paris five years ago and I realised that something this beautiful existed. Art used to be a huge part of my life before engineering took over, so Monet, van Gogh, Cezanne and I are well acquainted over the internet. Being close enough to see individual brushstrokes was mind-blowing. (Also, I have just realised that my favourite painting, The Ambassadors, is housed in the National Gallery in London. AND I NEVER WENT IN. AND I WALKED BY IT THREE TIMES. Guess I'll just have to go back..)
There are better photos, but I like this one because my face is all HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT, IS THIS REAL LIFE, AM I ACTUALLY LOOKING AT THESE, OH MY GOD HE ACTUALLY PAINTED THIS, HIS BRUSH TOUCHED THIS EXACT SPOT, HOLY SHIT, CALM THE FUCK DOWN, NO FLAILING, OH MY GOD NEED TO FLAIL, MUST KEEP MY HANDS BUSY, LOOK COOL, OH MY GOD THIS IS REAL LIFE, I'M GOING TO CRY, DON'T CRY, DON'T CAUSE A SCENE, YEH TOTALLY PULLING OFF LOOKING COOL RIGHT NOW.
So where was I before Livejournal decided to have massive downtime and I realised how dependent I am on this site for my daily Darren Criss dose?
Well, there's the contract I signed exactly a week ago, infront of my three bosses. They put a pen in my hand and I blurted out I'M ACTUALLY REALLY SCARED ABOUT THIS AND I'M SO GRATEFUL THAT YOU'RE GIVING ME YOUR TIME, BUT I'M QUITE NERVOUS. Then they looked at me and said things about metaphorical hand-holding. So I signed the contract. My new job starts on Monday, with my new laptop. He does have a name, but I'm letting it roll around on my tongue a bit, before I really settle on it. I feel so sorry for my old laptop, Akira, who has being with me all through college and all around the world. It almost feels like I'm abandoning a baby. Oh God, I promise I do actually have a life. (On that topic though, I'm seriously considering putting a Darren Criss wallpaper on my new laptop and letting people assume it's my boyfriend. Best idea ever).
Onwards with my really delayed travel log, which I have lost all motivation for because a month ago I was ten meters away from Darren Criss. I think we can assume that I'll never be ten metres away from Darren Criss again in my entire life, so it's all about being okay with the fact that my life will pretty much go downhill from here.
Day seven in Paris.
Paris.
Paris Paris Paris.
I have issues with Paris. Mostly that it is so falsely advertised. City of Love it is not. Yes, it's got pretty gardens and pretty art and pretty architecture, but I feel like I could probably find more romantic cities in the world. The dirty streets, leaky subway, smokers and the occasional arrogant local really pulled the city down. This said, I will admit to being slightly biased, since walking around in 37 degree heat will pretty much ruin any sort of holiday.
ANWYAY, PARIS.
It has old churches.
It's also full of buildings with balconies, because everyone lives like this. This makes me incredibly jealous.
It also has random fountains and water features scattered around, wherein locals enjoy sunbaking during a heatwave. This particular photo is an outake, where I'm basically yelling JERRY, TAKE THE FUCKING PHOTO ALREADY, MY FACE IS MELTING OFF AND THE BENCH IS BURNING MY ASS.
My mood was lifted considerably when I realised that Nicolas Flamel is still alive and making jewellery.
I forgot all about the heat when this arrived for me to eat. Paris, I may dislike you for many reasons, but I love you for the food. THE FOOD. I'd go back just for the food. It's borderline hilarious and disgusting the amount of raw meat and foie gras I ate in Paris.
Walking around The Lourve, I was distracted from the heat by the impressive architecture. This pose is called the Maybe I Do Love You A Little, Paris pose, wherein one clutches their heart while doing a little jig.
My very first glance of the Eiffel Tower, which made me clutch my heart more and supress I'M HERE, I'M REALLY HERE squeals. I'd also like the point out the man on the segway behind me.
I'm too lazy to google the name of this thing, because I can't spell it. Meh, is all I thought when I saw it. Also I was going to faint from heat exhaustion because I ran out of water and we had just walked from the Lourve to this. I don't know how many kilometres that is, but I know that it's too far. At least I smiled for the photo!
By far the best part of my entire time in Paris was the Musee de l'Orangerie, which houses huge Monet paintings. These have been on my Bucket List ever since katharrine went to Paris five years ago and I realised that something this beautiful existed. Art used to be a huge part of my life before engineering took over, so Monet, van Gogh, Cezanne and I are well acquainted over the internet. Being close enough to see individual brushstrokes was mind-blowing. (Also, I have just realised that my favourite painting, The Ambassadors, is housed in the National Gallery in London. AND I NEVER WENT IN. AND I WALKED BY IT THREE TIMES. Guess I'll just have to go back..)
There are better photos, but I like this one because my face is all HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT, IS THIS REAL LIFE, AM I ACTUALLY LOOKING AT THESE, OH MY GOD HE ACTUALLY PAINTED THIS, HIS BRUSH TOUCHED THIS EXACT SPOT, HOLY SHIT, CALM THE FUCK DOWN, NO FLAILING, OH MY GOD NEED TO FLAIL, MUST KEEP MY HANDS BUSY, LOOK COOL, OH MY GOD THIS IS REAL LIFE, I'M GOING TO CRY, DON'T CRY, DON'T CAUSE A SCENE, YEH TOTALLY PULLING OFF LOOKING COOL RIGHT NOW.