dessiner des souvenirs // to draw some memories

It is approximately nineteen hours before I take off for Paris.

Actually, to be accurate, it's more like ten months in Paris.

I'm in a pretty good place right now, notwithstanding the mini-crisis I had earlier where I was convinced that I didn't know how to speak French. I'm still pretty sure I don't know how to speak French. But hey, maybe ten months in Paris will ameliorate that?

I can't believe I used the word ameliorate.

Everything is mostly packed--I just have to make sure I am under the weight limit for both my suitcases. The steps to getting that done include the following:

1. convince my mother that I do not need to bring along a year's supply of Bounce laundry sheets, even if they are cheaper here than in Europe
2. put back some shoes; I don't know when I came to be in possession of so many shoes, but really, I only need the hooker boots, right? Mom can bring the flip flops later. just kidding.
3. ask one of my technologically proficient friends to hack into the airport database and mess with the scales for me

...just kidding on that last part too. I'm not that desperate yet.

I am looking forward to getting on the plane, if only so I can sit down and read these ultra-super-secret letters that L. from HS deviously got everyone to write to me. Even people she didn't know from my college. That girl kind of amazes me sometimes. But yes. Lots and lots of letters for me! I love letters!

Please write me letters.

Pretty please.

I will write you letters and send you postcards! Just need your address, s'all.

Catch you all on the flip side!
T.

elle attend le jour // she waits for the day

I got my visa, sans problèmes. I'm not quite sure how that happened, since so much random shit has been happening to me. But there is a beautiful color picture of me stuck to one of the pages on my passport. And unlike my driver's license, the image of me does not:

1. show me with three chins
2. make me look stoned
3. emphasize my resemblance, such as it is, to the chimps from which I descended

How could a girl be any happier? Unlike the people who look at my license, the airport people won't have to do a double take. This means that with any luck, I won't be mistaken for a terrorist and denied entry to France.

I have approximately three weeks until I depart for the City of Lights. I am not even close to having started packing. I haven't contacted my host mother since June. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do once I do get to Paris. I have not shown my mother show Skype works. I haven't called the credit card people to let them know that heyI'llbeabroadandit'snotbecauseI'mavictimofidentitytheft.Ihope. I have not finished work. I haven't gotten all my loose ends tied up. I haven't said goodbye to people.

Yeah, I basically haven't done anything.

As always, I subscribe to the "desperation is the best motivation" method of living one's life, at least in regards to getting things done on time. I have also never missed a deadline. Ergo, I must be doing something right. Is "ergo" even used right in this context?

The point of this entry was to announce my success in the quest for my visa. But because I am so nice, I will leave you with a picture. Or nine.

Voilà! Some of the different faces of Paris I, courtesy of the Université de Paris Panthéon-Sorbonne website.

Centre Bourg-la-Reine



Centre Michelet



Centre Panthéon



Centre Pierre Mendès-France



Centre Rue d'Ulm



Centre Sorbonne



Institut de Géographie



Maison des Sciences Economiques



Maison Internationale / Arago

With the exception of a few (obvious) ones, I have no clue what actually takes place at these buildings. That's for later, I guess. But for right now, I'm fascinated by the vast differences between the buildings.

It's also interesting how there are pretty much no people in the pictures. When does that ever happen in Paris?