Same Sunshine, Different Street

NYU just sent me my Orientation schedule. I guess my cancellation hasn't been processed yet. I shouldn't have opened the document, but I did and now I'm sitting here crying in this stupid internet cafe in Paris and I don't even know why.

These past few days have been really hard. I came to this internet cafe today to buy a new plane ticket home, feeling heavy with disappointment and failure. But then I got here and read Jennifer's blog comment and I wonder if that isn't the right thing to do.

I took a walk this morning to try to clear my head. There was a moment at the intersection of rue Verginaud and rue Auguste de Blanqui when I stopped to decide if I should turn right or left and I was suddenly struck with the realization that it didn't matter in the slightest. It was a profoundly existential moment and rather than feeling liberated by this freedom, I felt asphyxiated by the possibilities.

A boy asked me out on a date last night. And this time it wasn't a construction worker or a guy in a Peugeot in front of the Moulin Rouge. No, it was much worse than that. It was someone I actually know.

My would-be suitor is a guy who works at one of the supermarkets by my house. I go there pretty much every day of my life and he works there pretty much every day of his life so it makes sense that we would become acquainted. He's very cute and he speaks a little English and he asked me out on a date last night and now I can never go to that supermarket again. Which is unfortunate because they are the only supermarket that sells my favorite gnocchi and my favorite tomato sauce and my favorite brownies and if I'd known that he was planning to ask me out on a date, I would have stocked up.

I imagine that, for normal people, being asked out on a date by a cute boy is probably perceived as good news. Certainly not cause for WII-bunker-level gnocchi purchases and making shocked faces to oneself while walking home (do you make shocked faces to yourself after something ridiculous happens? because I always do).

I think normal people would probably also enjoy spending a month in Paris. It's Paris for goodness sake, not the Mojave Desert. There's no conceivable reason for me to feel as lost and alone as I do.

I say no to things all the time and I never know if I'm saying no because I'm brave or if I'm saying no because I'm scared.

I emailed NYU and asked if they could wait until Monday to process my cancelation. I don't know why; it doesn't make the slightest difference if I turn right or left. It's the same sunshine and the same shade, just a different street.

On Saying No (and Yes, too)

"Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want."

-- Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Ever since I read that book, this line has been floating through my head like a pop song you heard in the grocery store or maybe like a spell. I find it hard to differentiate between these two. Shyness and shame, that is, not pop songs and magic spells.

Well, actually.

I started writing something today and maybe you can finish the last sentence for me. And then maybe I'll write some more. What do you think?


It was a Tuesday when I noticed the plants were dead.

At least, I think it was a Tuesday. That may be one of those 'facts' that one invents later to convince oneself that one's memory is accurate and irrefutable. Anyway, it was definitely raining because I remember that I'd planned to go out for a baguette and noticed that it was raining too much for a baguette. It wasn't raining too much for wine but then I had wine.

That's another thing I remember. I had wine.

And the plants were dead.

The fact that the plants were dead isn't important (well, it may have been for the plants), the important thing is that was the day I decided to _____________________________.


Y'all, the Tour de France is going to be here on Sunday! That's probably going to be annoying! But exciting! And annoying! Simultaneously!

Time Flows from a Hole in a Tree

Everyone told me that these two months would fly past me but they've been dripping by like wax. Remember when I was in Amsterdam? That was, what-- four, five years ago?

I still have three weeks before I leave and I'm kind of ready to be home although home will present its own set of challenges since I'll be job-hunting, trying to sell my car, preparing to move, and applying to grad school all at once.

I've decided with 99% certainty that I'm moving to New York by the beginning of October. I never realized until this trip how much I need other people and there are so many people in New York that I love. That feels like the right place for me right now.

Today, I bought a brand new notebook and a brand new black pen so that I could start working on my writing sample. I sat down at my desk and poised my brand new pen over the first clean, white page...

And that's it.

I forgot that I am awful at writing fiction.

Oh man.

In other news, I don't know if I'm still going to my french class or not. I spent most of the day listening to french radio and writing out verb conjugations in a workbook while eating chevre and baguettes. That felt more productive somehow.

From Someone Who Would Know

"... if there is anyone who can go through the process of writing long law school applications, get accepted and then not go, it is you."

And that's that.

I realized that it was the process of applying to law school that I needed to do and that brought me to a place where I needed to be (physically and otherwise). The actual going would have been overkill.

I skipped class yesterday afternoon and again this morning. Maybe I shouldn't since I'm paying for it but I feel like I'm getting more out of just sitting in my apartment, filling out workbooks and listening to french radio. Class was starting to make me surly and difficult. Oh, you know how I do.

Gross Sandwich

Oh, here's a gross sandwich you can make at home!

Ingredients:
* 1 cheap french baguette
* 3 slices of really creepy french fake ham
* 2 tbsp. dijon mustard that you thought you could leave out of the refrigerator for a week and now it's turned sour
* stinky cheese

Bon Appetit!

My Apartment in Paris

Also, I added a few photos to one of my entries from Saturday.

Proof that I'm Really in Paris

It's funny that when I finally saw the Eiffel Tower, I saw it by accident. Who sees the Eiffel Tower by accident?



Anyway, I really am in Paris, I guess.