je suis artiste!

ou pas....

I don't know if I am an artist. What is the line between artist, and not artist? Is there even a line? I think if you enjoy being creative and making art (even if it is lousy) you are an artist. Voila, mon définition d'artiste. C'est bizarre, maintenant je pense en anglais et français, mais je me trouve ni français, ni anglais. So as I am typing whatever comes to my mind this post may be a mixture of languages; probably just english and french. I just received a big box of art supplies that my lovely mother sent from home! I was soooo excited! In the box were all of my old drafting supplies (which I'm not sure I'll need right now, but always nice to have!), a big tin of art pencils, aquarells, my jewelry supplies, fabric, oil pastels (chalk pastels make me cringe!!!!), and pencil crayons (2 tins)! As well as some non artsy things; 2 sticks of burt's bees lip chap (but with a bit of colour - I love it!), a pretty scarf, a scientific calculater (?? not sure if my mom actually meant to send that one....), earrings, and chewing gum! Youpiiiii!



That is what I have in my sketch book so far.... feed back please!! I know I need to add so much more still to my portfolio....not just sketches, but real projects! Suggestions are welcome! Give me assignments to help motivate me.

I soon have to apply to art schools here, so the pressure is really on! I'm also getting excited to enter back into the art world and leaving this boring wannabe art world of art history (no offence....). I actually really do love art history, but definitely as a hobby / interest....not a career, nit 5 years of studies.

Music I am listening to at the moment: Beach House, The XX, Neon Indian, and the new album of Vampire weekend.

Love you, bye

motivate me

I haven't blogged in a couple of months now it seems. I'm feeling a little lost these days, maybe blogging will help a bit.

Today it is cold, and was snowing a bit (I haven't even gone outside yet). Yesterday was cold and snowed a lot. The day before that it was super cold, and didn't snow. The sky was blue for about a half hour yesterday. It was so inspiring. I kept looking outside at it every few seconds while I sat rummaging throught papers at my desk by the window. The blue of the sky looked so nice against the blue flower boxes of the apartment across from mine. There is a leafy hedge that is still green beside the apartment. The building is kind of a creamy colour, but against the sky it looked yellow. I made a square with my hands like you do when you imagine how a scene would look as a photograph. I blocked out the snow and leafless trees, and my little square I saw spring and summer. It was beautiful. But didn't last, it quickly turned grey again. One of my good French friends asked me yesterday if I was still feeling lost, still searching for what it is I want in life. (this corresponds with a conversation we had a week ago over dinner). My answer was no. Sometimes things seemed more clear than other times.... but no, I'm still searching. I replied to him "je préfère d'etre perdue à Paris qu'à Toronto". I miss my family and friends back home so much. I want support. I want to go out for sushi with my friends and find out what they did this week, or last week, or last year :(. I want to go spend a weekend at my parents and let them give me good advice and tell me how much they love me, and just sit with my sister and take comfort in knowing that we will always be there for eachother no matter what. I miss being with my bestfriends and crying together about things that make us sad in life. I guess I am homesick. I am feeling so lost in life at the moment. I always feel stresssed when I have to choose a career, what I will study etc. I think part of my fear is that once I study, and graduate and find a job, the search will be over. As much as I hate the fact of being 22 and having studied 3 seperate times, and yet have no diploma to show, I think I secretly enjoy this. I must deep down take pleasure in this search for my wants and needs and ambitions in life. I think part of it also has to do with the fact that I find it all a little bit....stupid. I sometimes can't believe what us wonderful yet confused human beings are doing with our lives! A person who spends their life doing nothing in particular; taking photos, selling flowers on the street, never growing up....we may call them reckless, or lazy.....but I call it beautiful. I sometimes dream about the simplicity of living in a more traditional place, where working in a rice field is life. Where your family and loved ones come before everything. There are people who save lives for a living.....and I'm studying art history. I feel terrible when I think about that. Who am I helping? Art is beautiful and evokes emotions, and can teach us things about the past. I agree with all of this....but, it's not for me. I like to think about the present, the future.... I am going to apply to some public art schools for graphic design in Paris. Maybe some programs related to tourism, hotels, teaching english, culinary arts.... oh, another part of my problem is that too many things interest me. And Paris is so inspiring that I am so often finding something new that interests me.

médaille d'or svp

This week was an accomplished week. I have no wonderful tales to tell of a glamorous life in Paris. This was a week spent working. Monday I gave my first presentation in French. I can't even begin to explain how nervous I was before. Even compared to all of those years spent in musical theatre and various singing competitions, nothing can compare the my fear on monday. I can't pinpoint exactly what I was so scared of.... maybe the fact it was in French, or that I was afraid I reserached something incorrectly, or I wouldn't speak loud enough, or no one would understand because of my thick accent. Probably a combination. Anyway, I don't feel exceptionally confident, but I do feel satisfied knowing I did the best I could. (personal pep talk.... I'll pat myself on the back now too I suppose.)
Friday I handed in a paper about the position of Spain in Europe and in war in the 1600's.
And saturday I finished (one day late) my first essay written in French, on "how to define the works of Véronèse".
I would really like a trophy, but I will settle for a passing grade.

ants in my pants, so i'm gunna dance.

Two posts in one day. I haven't blogged in well over a month, so I hope this makes up for it a bit. I could have just made one post today, but then it would have been too long and random.

Here is some music that is 100 percent dance-able. Perfect for turning up loud and cooking dinner to, while dancing at the same time. Perfect for dancing home alone. Perfect for parties. The group is called Caravan Palace.

More songs found here.

Happy Hallowe'en by the way. I sure had a great one. It was such a last minute halloween for me. I usually plan the costume well in advance, but this year it was 2 hours before the party. I was a flapper. Woah original. Calm down. But apparently European's can't identify flappers very easily. I got responses like:

"Oh!!!! Pochahontas!!"

"That actress from the united states! The one from the 70's right?!"

Anyway, that doesn't matter. It's not their fault, Hallowe'en is really under-celebrated in France. It's too bad really.

I was thinking the other day, how I'm sure my parents stole so much of my halloween candy when I was a kid. Seriously I would bring home atleast one pillow case full of candy, there is no way I could ever eat all of it alone. So I am certain that parents take your candy when you are not there, or at school, or asleep. But that's fine, really, I am certainly going to do it too.

I find it hard to believe this is a real plant..... it is called "Dolls Eyes".
Those "eyes" are berries....appartently. Creepy. But I want one.

phone-etics

hullo wurld.

Two random notes on language for you today:

I wuz thinking thuh other day abouwt spelleeng wurds how they sownd. Juring a lektcher at skool there will off-tin bee wurds the teecher will say (in french) that I will not no the meeneeng uv ore how 2 spell. So I reelie on thuh phonetic sownd of thuh wurd and rite it how it sownds. I check layter 4 thuh definishun and sumtimes kant eeven find it.

I am taking a Spanish course at school, and am of course in the level "grand debutant", as I have never learned Spanish in my life. It can become a bit tiring when doing homework to look up every word in a sentance because I really have no idea what it is. So, I result to google translate. And sometimes google translate is a nice guy, but other times he is an asshole. Like especially when I should have left the house 5 minutes earlier, but had to finish the assignment. Of course he is an asshole then. This exercise I was trying to complete last minute was one of those connect the first part of the sentence on the left to the end of a sentence on the right.

I just typed each sentence into the translater and running late, scrambling to finish, this is what I got:

1st half of sentence 2nd half of sentence

these glasses are - whose father talks to you
that's it girl - this is the bed
that dog is - is that I bought for the savannas
I want to see - like the one I was a kid
I have friends here - Bohemian Crystal

That is not my attempt at matching them, its just how they were arranged in the exercise.

stud+io=studio, and i have one in Paris

hello!!!!

I have moved back to Paris, that lovely city where I live. AND I have a studio. My very own place in the city. It is 17m squared, with a mezzanine and a beautiful big window that goes directly onto a private garden for me (if I climb through the window....). It is kind of in rough shape and needs some paint and some love from me but other than that it is parfait! The neighbourhood is lovely too. Exactly where I wanted to be, I'm just by Belleville and Rue des Pyrénées. While walking along Rue Des Pyrénées today I saw the most beautiful street I have ever seen. I don't want to give too many details because it is just so sacred. I can't wait to go back and dream about living in one of the houses on the street. My mouth actually watered and I think my eyes may have teared when I imagined myself having an apartment there. Through the streets of Paris, hidden behind shops and your typical Haussmann apartment you can find secret streets that actually have little houses. Houses in Paris are not easy to find, and when someone told me they existed I didn't believe. But I have seen and I believe and I want. This street that I saw was narrow and had houses at the front just basically touching the street, each with distinct gates and apartments about 3 stories high just behind the house. I apologized to my boyfriend, because I had fallen in love with a street. Apparently the houses and apartments are filled with artists, which is clear just from looking from the street.

This photo does no justice for how nice it is. Use your imagination. It was the only one I could find.

But, an apartment there will not be mine until university is finished and I have a real job with hopefully big pay cheques. And in the mean time I will love and care for my new studio.

unfiltered passions

My friend Dave wrote a script in high school for a thesis for end of grade 12 something.... and one of the lines in the script I will always remember. Something deep to write in grade 12, a quote that I use on occasion.

"Alcohol is a catalyst for unfiltered passions" -my friend Dave

The above photos do not represent the meaning of that quote. I just really like the quote. These photos are my attempt at creating beautiful photography. I am borrowing my boyfriends fathers 1976 Minolta X-700 SLR camera for the rest of the summer. I enjoy taking photos and I find beauty in almost everything. Little things in life amaze me.... like last night on the drive from Toronto to my small hometown there was a ridiculous summer thunderstorm. It rained so hard we pulled over into a KFC parking lot, and waited about 10 minutes for the rain to die down a bit. It was only 8:45pm but it looked like 11pm. The sky was so dark. When the rain cleared you could see a strip of sky peeking out from underneath the black. The dark sky looming over intensified the sunset, which was butter yellow, contrasting with the dark blue clouds above it. As the sun set further there were pinks and greens and yellows mixing together. I asked my mom to pull over to the side of the highway where I wasted about half of the film.

new post, new domain

So.... the time has come. I would like to officially change the name of my blog. Pocket thoughts.... you had a good run, but you were kind of spur of the moment name. It takes me a long time to decide on names for things. I started my list of potential names for my (not yet born) children. The one that has been on the list the longest, and will stay is Evelyn. I love everything about that name, it is so feminine, and graceful. Anyway, the real purpose of this post, the new name of my blog.... (are you excited?!)

super pomme

If you take the time, no matter how often that may be, to read my blog, please do not forget to change the address and save it as: www.superpomme.blogspot.com

In other news, I was in Montreal last Sunday to Wednesday. I went with a best friend of mine. It was kind of a last minute trip, and I enjoyed (almost) every minute of it.

What I liked: Being with my dear friend, seeing a friend from Paris and him being kind enough to host us, delicious breakfasts, champagne, falling asleep in parks, buying knit finger puppets (hours of fun), my Minolta camera, cats, mannequins, neighbours, roommates, red wine, sunny days, cobblestone streets, nutella espressos, rosé, bixi bikes, homeless men in fountains, climbing up Mount Royal wearing kitten heels, practicing my French, sleeping on a super comfy mattress, guacamole, patio re-arranging (feminine touch), my beautiful m0851 wallet, romantic summer night rain, seeing Montreal from a rooftop, getting photo tips from a sexy/grumpy French photographer, laughing fits.

What I didn't really like: 8 hour bus rides, sunburn, camera running out of film after just two photos on the rooftop, stomach pains, being too drunk and confused to eat "apparently" delicious poutine, waiting 20 minutes for a train to pass, being too tired and sick to enjoy the "bring your own bottled wine" restaurant the first night.

I hope that I have time to visit these patios this summer.
http://www.torontolife.com/features/best-city-hit-deck/

sometimes my computer is just so lame it changes normally fast songs slow. and i hate that

bloor

Yesterday


I heard beautiful and inspiring jazz music

I tasted apricot beer and a homemade salad of tomatoes, fresh radishes, dill weed, mushrooms (all Canadian veggies) and balsamic vinegar.

I saw something inspiring and a little bit startling.

I touched the tires of my bike and found the back one to be flat.

I smelled birthday candles on my way home on Bloor street at 2am.

les films d'été 09

I don't really go to the cinema very often, or watch movies very often for that matter. And when I do it is normally with my boyfriend. I never know the names of actors, or the name of the film. I never seem to have watched the popular movies that everyone and their dog have seen. I will laugh at different parts then everyone, and fall asleep during the climax (especially in an action film with lots of guns and yelling).

But,

these films are giving me butterflies already, and I haven't even seen them yet. I really want to see them.

L'heure d'été looks like everything I imagine a French family to be. I have spent enough time with my boyfriend and his family (in France) to see that the French really do live like this. It is beautiful, and tempting and makes me so badly wish I were French. Brunches at the summer house, grass, beautiful architecture, sunshine, rain, rose, champagne.... ahhhh to be French! I am so happy that I can be a part of it. Yes, this film is a must see. Plus I love Juliette Binoche.

This was a mysterious book to me when I was a child. I was reading it right around the time when I was beginning to see the difference between reality and make believe. I loved it. The images, the ideas....it was all so familiar. But there was something about it that scared me a bit. Not the monsters, but more about make believe and growing up. I remember doing a school project on it, when I was about 9. We were supposed to choose a children's book and create something with it that we would present to younger children. I chose this book and made puppets with Popsicle sticks and a little replica of Max's bedroom. And they chose the Arcade Fire's song to play with the trailer. I remember first hearing Arcade Fire on much music one day, which I rarely watched. I was in the kitchen making a snack and had the tv on and suddenly I heard beautiful music. It was Rebellion (Lies) that I heard first. I sat and waited until the song ended so I could see who this beautiful new band was. 10 minutes later the whole album was downloaded and I had found myself some high school *memory portals. Sometimes their music gives me shivers. Beautiful.

I am a romantic. There is no doubt about it. I feel everything. I am emotional. I love love. So of course I loved Audrey Niffenegger's novel. I devoured the book. I was sad when it ended because I wanted to read more. Now there is a movie. I hope it doesn't disappoint me.

*memory portal:

A "Memory Portal" is something I've made up. It is a sensation that brings you back to a place in time, somewhere, anywhere, anytime in your life. It is not deja vu. For example, the smell of gasoline often reminds me of my grandparents shed. Seeing an old t-shirt reminds me of hanging out in Loblaws with my friends in high school. Black and white gingham reminds me of me and my mom when I was a baby. The memory portal can be any of the five senses. It can be good or bad. But it is a portal that triggers something in your memory of a moment in your life. Finding memory portals by chance are one of my favourite things.

country roads

During the month of July, I was renting out an apartment at College and Spadina. Before that one of my dear friends offered me a place in her apartment for the summer. This is was perfect because I was almost positive that I would only be staying in Toronto for 3 months. And her offer saved me having to go to the trouble of finding a place to sublet. The only condition was that we share her bed. Which is actually not a problem at all. I knew it wouldn't be. The only problem was when my boyfriend back in Paris and I started to miss eachother like crazy. So I searched like crazy on craigslist for a week and found a perfect place for us, at College & Spadina. He had lived in Toronto during one semester of studies at OCAD about 2 years ago. He wanted to come back and see Toronto in a different light. Different season, different age, different circumstances.... We had so much fun while he was here. The days leading up to him coming seemed so long! And then the days leading up to him leaving seemed so short. It's something that is so good, and you know that it is going to end, and you just really don't want it to. But it does. And so life continues to give you gifts, and take them away.... temporarily. I am so in love. It gives me butterflies still.
We went to my parents house for a few days to visit small town and country life. I grew up in a small town a few hours from Toronto. So did my mom, and my dad. And my grandparents.....
I left home for college the summer after high school graduation, I was 17. Since then I have not gone back for more that 2 weeks, more than a visit. I love my family, and it's nice to get out of the city for a few days, but I don't see myself living there.

I wanted my boyfriend to see my roots, my family, the first 17 years of my life. But I was quite nervous. I thought, how can this boy who has lived in Paris, France his entire life possibly enjoy himself in this small town? Lo and behold, he did. Who knew spending the day on my uncle's farm would be such an excellent thing to do?

The wonderful day was composed of four-wheeling, mud puddles, cows watching, mosquito swatting, kittens, kayaking in ponds, beer drinking in the forest, beer drinking by the barn, beer drinking by the drive-way, beer drinking by the pond, my uncle falling into the pond, dog's chasing four-wheelers, sunset, splashpants, spaghetti with marshmallows, bunnies, warm rain.... this helped me appreciate more where I came from.

I used to be bored by things like that, or make up excuses to my dad when he would invite me to come to his brothers farm. I look back and feel so lazy and disappointed for not appreciating the beauty and pleasure that could be found so easily around me. But this day was different, I am older and have traveled and seen more of the world, I have experienced 10x more than what I ever could have imagined. And so I was seeing this small town, my history, in a completely different light. I prefer this light. I will keep that day in my memory.

It's the kind of wonderful day that you think of often. Little moments from it pop into your head every so often and put a smile on your face, or even laugh out loud a little. But also make you a little bit sad, because it can't be repeated. It was too perfect to replicate. I know these types of days very well, and consider myself lucky. It was one of those days that was just so full of energy and movement and wonderful conversations, that by the end of the night you are so exhausted from the constant excitement, that all you can do is sigh, and smile, and have one of the best sleeps you have had for a long time.

the dirt in your fries.

I have been listening repeatedly this. I. Can't. Stop. And watching it. That kiss, when they are at the dump. It melts me.

But that's ok, because I guess I will soon have it memorized, which will be helpful because I am also learning to play it on the guitar. I have so much free time on my hands.... I am trying to so hard to keep myself occupied. Because if I don't I will think. And every time my mind wanders I just think about love. And how much I miss mine. I left it in France. I left a lot of things in France. Some books, some bras, some jewelry, and the love of my life. Kissing goodbye in airports is the hardest thing to do. I played up the moment for weeks before it happened. What would the last words I say to him be? How long would we kiss. Would I cry? Would there be people watching? Would I care? What would his mouth taste like? What would mine taste like? ....And then the airline I was flying with fucked everything up, by not processing my online payment, meaning I was not actually listed as a passenger on the plane. So my last moments with him were spent with a quick but meaningful kiss, and many many tears (on my end), and his father standing waiting to go home. Then I rushed through the gates so I wouldn't miss my flight.

Let me explain how the airline owes me $756.00 Canadian.
No, let me rant.

So when I arrive at the airport for about the 100th flight of my life I go to check-in as always. Never had a problem before. She takes my online print-out and my passport, and says nothing but says "excusez-moi un moment".... and goes and makes a phone call. I'm sweating and swearing and asking my boyfriend and his dad to eavesdrop. They can't hear her. She comes back and says that I am not listed as a passenger on the plane. So sends us up to the airline office, to get in a long line just to deal with someone who is clearly not interested at all in my problem. She says the payment didn't go through. And I say yes it did, I saw it on my Mastercard bill. "Desolee Madamemoiselle...." So I had to buy another damn ticket and she said don't worry they will refund you. You see, if I didn't make this flight, it meant that I was illegally staying in the country because my Visa expired that day. And if I stayed past that day it would ruin my chances of getting another visa. So ya....it's been four weeks and I'm still waiting for my $756.00

Some good news!!!!

I am going to be a student of Archeology and Art
History at La Sorbonne in Paris, France in September!

I am so excited and so relieved. All of the studying I did for the language test in February and March paid off.

la période d'orages pourrait durer encore

BIG news:

I'm leaving Paris this Saturday. I can't even make plans for this weekend. Ahhhh wierd. I'm sad. I keep feeling sorry for myself that I'm leaving Paris. I'm being selfish. But I'm coming back in September. YE$$$$ I am. So really, my summer in Canada is just a 3 month vacation seeing my wonderful friends and family.

Last night it thunderstormed! Beautiful summer heat, 4 days in a row, 30 degrees that stays hot into the night can only result in summer rain. At around 10:30 last night O and I went to go meet a woman at metro Vavin. O was buying a guitar from her. This woman was amazing. She was so cozy, and talking about wonderful things and kind of ressembled Maril $treep. She was British, living in Paris for over 10 years. Working in cultural events around Paris, and tourism. She was very maternal, probably in her mid 40's. We should have gone to a cafe with her, instead of sitting on a bench in the shadow of a building. I tuned the guitar, then played 4 of the 10 chords I know. Impre$$ive. Then it started to pour. mmmm summer rain, je t'aime.

chronologiques

I haven't posted something in atleast a month.

Life is continuing to amaze with the beautiful things that surround me.

But also continuing to disappoint me other times.

Bittersweet.

kissed a stuffed pink turtle
laid in bed for hours
cried almost everyday
laughed every day
breakfast and lunch in bed
homemadapancakes
Eugène Onegin, a Tchaikovsky ballet
lots and lots of kisses
gelato
wine drinking in the streets of Paris
4 star hotel room
running through vineyards
country house
dinner parties with bowls of sangria
the mediterranean sea
photo shoots
playing dress - up with friends
cool spring nights spent beside warm fires

les têtes des poissons

I went to the Préfecture de Police today in Paris. It's a lovely old building beside the river in the heart of Paris. Préfecture basically means administration.

I had to go and ask some questions answered regarding my current visa situation. My visa, that permits me to work and live in France like any normal citizen of France is going to expire in about 1 month and a half, and I was informed today that it is absolutement obligatoire that I return to Canada before the expiry of the visa. My job however does not end until the start of July. Therefore, I have to leave the country early and return to Canada. I am not opposed of course to spending a summer in Toronto, infact, I know it will be a wonderful summer. Toronto is lovely in the summer. I look forward to days spent scavenging around Kensington Market on hot days with my friends, and warm summer nights spent on cafe and bar patios, bikerides, days to the beach, and maybe even make it to center island this summer. I have established such a life for myself here in Paris. It will be strange to return to Canada after living in France for one year. Of course. This is expected. Not bad strange, just different. I will come back to France in September, this is sure. It is my home.

My head is full of thinks. Yes, thinks. Not things, just plenty of thinking. There are too many thinks going through my head right now. Topic change.

After the préfecture, Thomas and I went to a cafe just across the river. In a tourist area, so of course we paid far too much for a cafe au lait and espresso, but it is ok, the view was nice. We were talking in a mix of french and english about the beautiful historic architecture of Paris. There was construction being done on a beautiful historic building on the river. I asked what kind of construction was going on under the tarp.... are they replacing the lovely old building with something modern? I hope not. He told me that they were just rebuilding something damaged. But rebuilding it to look exactly the same as before. He was telling me that it is not legal to build something not to look like the original buildings of Paris. It is too much a part of the image of the city. It makes sense. Paris would have a completely different image if it didn't stay exactly how it has been for the last hundreds of years. Most of France is the same. He was telling me about an historic house near his summer house on the Basin d'Arcachon. I have seen it when taking a walk along the beach. It is a gorgeous mansion that must be atleast 300 years old. There are very strict rules that come with living in that house. You must confirm with historic committee/ elders of the village before hammering a nail in the wall, changing a broken window, cooking garlic in the kitchen, shitting in the 5th floor toilet....

My friends and I used to love this song in highschool.

yeahhhh

probleme airport mac ox x

Today after work he called me and said that he couldn't go to the cinema tonight, but that he was going home to work a bit instead. He wanted me to come with him. Of course I did. He picked me up on his scooter. The weather is just so beautiful at the moment that I can leave my window open almost all the time. There is a light spring breeze, warm enough now that it doesn't even make you cold. just cool. So my window is open, and he has been coming to my house to take me with him on his scooter lately. I know the sound of his little white vespa now. He calls me when he has arrived and is waiting for me just outside the building, with my helmet in hand, smoking a cigarette.

I know he is there before he calls now.

We arrived at his house in time to eat with his mom. I could smell garlic cooking, and vinaigrette for a salad. Walking inside the only light on was the kitchen. It felt so nice, the smells, the dark, and my bare feet on the new hard wood floors. It felt familier. I suddenly forgot everything that had been stressing me out from the day.
"mmmm you have such a cosy apartment." I said to him as we walked down the almost pitch black hallway to leave our things in his room. I lightly keep my finger on his back because in the dark I still often miss the door to his room. He knows. where it is. perfectly.
"Such?" he asked.
One of the things of having a boyfriend whose first language is not the same as mine is that he may not know every word I use. Naturally. It is of course the same for me in French. I asked him if he knew what such meant, and he said yes, he just liked the emphasis I used on how the home was so cosy.

I asked myself then, how I would describe the word such to someone who had never heard it before.

so + much = such

I think maybe the word such is actually a contraction.... But I couldn't have said "mmmm you have so much a cosy apartment" rather than "mmmm you have such a cosy apartment." But I still think so + much = such.

gut

It's 1:13am, Paris France.

I vacuumed my bedroom yesterday, but in order to do so I had to move all of the shit off my floor onto my bed. It's not my fault my room is impossible to keep tidy, it's the size of a locker.... and I never kept my high school locker tidy. Why am I talking about lockers? This is what happens when my fingers touch the keyboard. Scatter-brained random thoughts, that's what happens.

so, now it is 1:16, Paris France.

(Proof that I did not leave the city in the past 3 minutes)

I should be sleeping, but I still have homework to do, and a bed to clean. My brain is full of thoughts. Some selfish thoughts. I have been feeling guilty lately for wanting so badly to stay in Paris. I want to stay here. Want. Ew. I would like to stay here. But it's more than "would like", so it's want. Which is just selfish. And my mom sent me an email the other day which related to my thoughts perfectly. I was stressing out about university here, and my working holiday visa, and french customs etc.

And this is what she wrote:

This is a whole new topic, but something I heard about yesterday that sheds a whole new light on every situation and sort of puts life in perspective.

You remember Lauren, our neighbours Tom and Henrietta's granddaughter. And do you remember her mother Maria and her father Felix? They've been living in Brighton, England, for the past few years. Five weeks ago Maria started having excruciating headaches, went in for testing (CT scan, MRI) and they discovered a massive brain tumour. She was operated on immediately (March 7) and seemed to be recovering well.....until she spiked a fever, which meant infection, which was fatal. She passed away yesterday. She was around 49. I was shocked and Henrietta is a basketcase. Felix doesn't want her to come over to Europe though. He says there is nothing she can do at this point, so she is staying put here.

Anyway, depressing news, but I wanted you to know, and it does put life in perspective in many ways, I feel. And it also makes me feel even better about coming to see you and seeing a city and country I otherwise would never have had the opportunity to see.

I love you sweetie !!!!

I always forget that things like that can happen in life. It would be wrong to spend my entire life worrying about the things that 'could' happen, however, it would be wise for me to consider all of the wonderful things I have and have experience, and be more open to possibilities.

This being said, I am not saying I am completely ok with leaving France. I am far too content here with the life I have. But after reflecting, and the email from my mom, I am going to be more open letting life just take it's course, and if something doesn't work out as planned, find an alternative, or be content with the cards I have been dealt. No time for pouting and pity, that is just a waste of time.



Life is grand. More than grand. Je suis vraiment content.

on change, on range

Aujourd'hui: April 1st. Is it really here already? Dear month of April, do not pass as fast as March.

Words of the day....

corde à sauter (skipping rope)

fish
chocolate cake
fetus
scraped knee
rosy cheeks
beirut
tears
small spoons

I went with the children today to a park above the Viaduc des Arts, which is a beautiful park 1 minute from my house that is built above an old railway station. It was beautiful and sunny today, just like yesterday and tomorrow I hope. The shadows of the children in the photos remind me of fetuses. I know that sounds strange and morbid. And I guess it kind of is.