(no subject)
Oh my god. Sometimes I am just the biggest nerd. But at least I'm fucking adorable when I do it. ;)
I took my French Lit exam and my Phonetics exam today. They either went fantastically or terribly. We'll see! In between, I went to Gilbert Joseph (a French version of Barnes and Noble) and bought Simone de Beauvoir's Memoires d'une jeune fille rangée (aka Memoires of an Obedient Daughter) because I love love love me some SdB. I will read that on the flight home. Tomorrow is my grammar exam and handing my études cinés paper and then DONE. Huzzah! Then going to see "Nosferatu" at la Cinémathèque Française with Anna. "Nosferatu" is not exactly one of my favorite films (every time I watch it, I can only think of my "narrative avant-garde film" professor babbling on about penis and vagina imagery) but it'll be a good way to fill the evening, and doing things with Anna is always very pleasant.
I just ate dinner (sammich, yay for un-fancy!) and my fridge looks shockingly vacant. I have left in there--an almost empty jar of cherry jam, an almost empty jar of mustard, 3 pots of yogurt (unsweetened, to be eaten with jam, duh), a half-consumed bottle of blood orange Orangina, a partially consumed litre of milk, and a partially consumed litre of apple/lychee juice. Oh apple/lychee juice, how I will miss you. You too, raspberry/mandarin, and the many other exotic fruit blends I can get easily here. But the point is, my fridge is fucking deserted. It hasn't been this empty since I moved in. My walls are destitute--I've taken down almost everything, and the rest is coming down tonight and tomorrow night. My shelves are vacant, as I've packed all my books (my suitcase is heavy, meep) and most of my jewelry. My apartment looks like someone lives here--there's a bra hanging over the back of a chair, a coat and shoes scattered around, a bottle of kahlua and a baguette on top of the microwave, dirty dishes in the sink, underpants on the floor, etc--yet at the same time, it looks deserted. It's a strange sensation of flux. This must be what it feels like to be the cat inside Schroedinger's box.
I woke up completely different from how I went to sleep last night. I am now immortal, untouchable, completely in control. I laughed at almost everything today. And why not? Life is a joke, or at least today it is. I am hoping this feeling will hold out until I get back to the US, at which point I'll be on the high of being home. I expect to crash and start getting homesick for Paris around Tuesday, but at that point my mum and I are getting our Christmas tree, and I will spend the day decorating it, putting up the electric train, and wrapping presents. I have a thorough plan to keep myself busy and happy for the next week and a half, at least. So as long as I can make it to tomorrow without crashing, I should be able to maintain this. I can do that. I can make it to bedtime without any catastrophes.
The forecast says tomorrow and Friday will be mostly sunny and sunny, so I am going to take lots of pictures, for remembrances.
I took my French Lit exam and my Phonetics exam today. They either went fantastically or terribly. We'll see! In between, I went to Gilbert Joseph (a French version of Barnes and Noble) and bought Simone de Beauvoir's Memoires d'une jeune fille rangée (aka Memoires of an Obedient Daughter) because I love love love me some SdB. I will read that on the flight home. Tomorrow is my grammar exam and handing my études cinés paper and then DONE. Huzzah! Then going to see "Nosferatu" at la Cinémathèque Française with Anna. "Nosferatu" is not exactly one of my favorite films (every time I watch it, I can only think of my "narrative avant-garde film" professor babbling on about penis and vagina imagery) but it'll be a good way to fill the evening, and doing things with Anna is always very pleasant.
I just ate dinner (sammich, yay for un-fancy!) and my fridge looks shockingly vacant. I have left in there--an almost empty jar of cherry jam, an almost empty jar of mustard, 3 pots of yogurt (unsweetened, to be eaten with jam, duh), a half-consumed bottle of blood orange Orangina, a partially consumed litre of milk, and a partially consumed litre of apple/lychee juice. Oh apple/lychee juice, how I will miss you. You too, raspberry/mandarin, and the many other exotic fruit blends I can get easily here. But the point is, my fridge is fucking deserted. It hasn't been this empty since I moved in. My walls are destitute--I've taken down almost everything, and the rest is coming down tonight and tomorrow night. My shelves are vacant, as I've packed all my books (my suitcase is heavy, meep) and most of my jewelry. My apartment looks like someone lives here--there's a bra hanging over the back of a chair, a coat and shoes scattered around, a bottle of kahlua and a baguette on top of the microwave, dirty dishes in the sink, underpants on the floor, etc--yet at the same time, it looks deserted. It's a strange sensation of flux. This must be what it feels like to be the cat inside Schroedinger's box.
I woke up completely different from how I went to sleep last night. I am now immortal, untouchable, completely in control. I laughed at almost everything today. And why not? Life is a joke, or at least today it is. I am hoping this feeling will hold out until I get back to the US, at which point I'll be on the high of being home. I expect to crash and start getting homesick for Paris around Tuesday, but at that point my mum and I are getting our Christmas tree, and I will spend the day decorating it, putting up the electric train, and wrapping presents. I have a thorough plan to keep myself busy and happy for the next week and a half, at least. So as long as I can make it to tomorrow without crashing, I should be able to maintain this. I can do that. I can make it to bedtime without any catastrophes.
The forecast says tomorrow and Friday will be mostly sunny and sunny, so I am going to take lots of pictures, for remembrances.