Tonight, I don't feel like writing something analytical, or philosophical, or anecdotal, or even something with a point. I kinda just want to write about me, and where I'm at right now, if that's quite alright with you.
Today, before a 5:30 class and after a morning of feeling super stressed out over silly things like not having the correct change (again) to do my mountain of dirty laundry, I decided to follow my nose for a while.
I like to do that in Paris, and just in life in general. It seems my nose always leads me to just the place where I'm meant to be.
Well today, on a whim, I decided to leave my pile of dirty laundry right in the middle of my floor and go somewhere. Anywhere. As I walked out the door, I saw my guitar, and decided I should take it along. Why not?
I made some arbitrary lefts and rights and found myself at a metro stop. My guitar and I got on line 1 going in the direction of La Defence, just because. The train stopped at the Tuileries and I thought, hey, I bet the Tuileries Garden is fabulous and peaceful on a slightly chilly Monday afternoon in November, so my guitar and I got off the train.
Besides some joggers, a couple fellow relaxation seekers, and a model (dressed in a ridiculous black tutu thing) doing a photo-shoot with a very french photographer, I had a nice section of the garden pretty much to myself. I sat down in a little green chair underneath a sunshiny gap in the trees and started to play music. I played all the songs that could come to my head. I started out singing softly but as I began to realize that no one was there to judge, I started to break out and sing as loudly or softly as I wished.
Music is just good for my soul, you know? I think we all have those activities—and not necessarily just artistic ones—that feed our souls, relieve our stress, and remind us who we are and why we are.
Or maybe I'm just weird.
Anyway, after a while, I noticed that a few people had sat down in their own little green chairs in patches of sunshine near me to listen and relax... a mother and daughter, a businessman in a suit, a girl about my age, a pair of older gentlemen. I don't even remember what I played—old songs, new songs, songs that I had written, and sometimes just little parades of chords that went together. It felt so amazing to share with those random people.
When my fingers started feeling frozen, I quickly picked up my guitar and left—no applause, no spare change in my case, but feeling more satisfied and at peace than I had felt in a very long time.
As I walked out of the garden and back towards the metro, I found a fifty euro cent piece on the ground, which was exactly the coin I needed to finally do my laundry
Aha! I knew my nose brought me here for a reason!
_______________________________________________
Okay. So that was pretty darn anecdotal, which I said I didn't want to do. Oops. So now on to something totally unrelated....
Let's talk about something else that's on my mind tonight. I'm starting to feel like the day I board the plane and fly back to Los Angeles is just around the corner... and honestly, I'm a little bit scared.
I'm scared of what it will be like to go back to my life after this.
I'm afraid that I will be too different to just pick everything right back up. I'm afraid that my world, that was once so familiar, is going to look a just little bit stranger now.
I mean, what am I going to do when my bread can't double as a walking stick and costs more than 40 cents?????
Just kidding, that's the least of my worries.
(But seriously, I'll miss the baguette)
It's just, I feel so different here. It wasn't until my mom came to visit last week that I realized how little like the usual Erin I have been feeling and acting in this new environment. I guess you could say I'm still myself, just out of my original context.
Perhaps most of all I'm afraid of this question, which I KNOW I will be hearing.
"So how was France?"
Please, I beg you, if you are reading this, do not ask me this question when I see you next.
Ask me about French people, about French culture, or about French food, about the people i've met, the friends i've made, the lessons I've learned. Ask me about adjusting to life in another country, ask me about my school, my classes, my peers, the places I travelled. Ask me about museums, art, architecture. Ask me my perception of Paris, France, and Europe (because let's not forget, that's all it really is—my perception) Or at least ask me what I liked and what I disliked about my time abroad. Ask me about learning the French language, ask me about French politics, heck, even French fashion. OR, make me really happy, and ask about French HISTORY! In fact, please ask me about French History, and I will tell you all about it for the rest of the day.
I'm no expert on any of these topics, but I'd be happy to share my very shallow, biased impression of things.
But please, please, PLEASE, don't ask me "how was France?"
Because if you catch me on a day when I don't feel like breaking my own heart by saying "It was great. a lot of fun and I learned so much,"
I will probably just get real cheeky with you and say "no, you first, how was America?" :)
_______________________________________________
A couple more random additions to Erin as of November 14th!
I have to register for classes tomorrow night, and I am entirely done with general education and have junior standing in units... and I still. don't. have. a. major. Go me! Hopefully my nose will be up for helping me enroll in some classes for winter quarter...
Also, remember how I ran 26 miles in the SF Marathon that one time? Well I ran a whole mile yesterday... and it was really difficult.
On a positive note! I'm getting really good at French! I can understand people (when they don't speak too fast or complicated) and I'm starting to get the hang of speaking and pronouncing. It makes life go a lot more smoothly around here. Which is FANTASTIC, because it has absolutely no practical value in Davis, California, which is where I will be in just a couple months! Hooray! ;)
_____________________________________________
Hey, so in conclusion, we can illogically draw from all these unrelated rants of mine, that you should have a good day. Be happy. Do that thing that is good for your soul.
All my Love <3
-Erin
Today, before a 5:30 class and after a morning of feeling super stressed out over silly things like not having the correct change (again) to do my mountain of dirty laundry, I decided to follow my nose for a while.
I like to do that in Paris, and just in life in general. It seems my nose always leads me to just the place where I'm meant to be.
Well today, on a whim, I decided to leave my pile of dirty laundry right in the middle of my floor and go somewhere. Anywhere. As I walked out the door, I saw my guitar, and decided I should take it along. Why not?
I made some arbitrary lefts and rights and found myself at a metro stop. My guitar and I got on line 1 going in the direction of La Defence, just because. The train stopped at the Tuileries and I thought, hey, I bet the Tuileries Garden is fabulous and peaceful on a slightly chilly Monday afternoon in November, so my guitar and I got off the train.
Besides some joggers, a couple fellow relaxation seekers, and a model (dressed in a ridiculous black tutu thing) doing a photo-shoot with a very french photographer, I had a nice section of the garden pretty much to myself. I sat down in a little green chair underneath a sunshiny gap in the trees and started to play music. I played all the songs that could come to my head. I started out singing softly but as I began to realize that no one was there to judge, I started to break out and sing as loudly or softly as I wished.
Music is just good for my soul, you know? I think we all have those activities—and not necessarily just artistic ones—that feed our souls, relieve our stress, and remind us who we are and why we are.
Or maybe I'm just weird.
Anyway, after a while, I noticed that a few people had sat down in their own little green chairs in patches of sunshine near me to listen and relax... a mother and daughter, a businessman in a suit, a girl about my age, a pair of older gentlemen. I don't even remember what I played—old songs, new songs, songs that I had written, and sometimes just little parades of chords that went together. It felt so amazing to share with those random people.
When my fingers started feeling frozen, I quickly picked up my guitar and left—no applause, no spare change in my case, but feeling more satisfied and at peace than I had felt in a very long time.
As I walked out of the garden and back towards the metro, I found a fifty euro cent piece on the ground, which was exactly the coin I needed to finally do my laundry
Aha! I knew my nose brought me here for a reason!
_______________________________________________
Okay. So that was pretty darn anecdotal, which I said I didn't want to do. Oops. So now on to something totally unrelated....
Let's talk about something else that's on my mind tonight. I'm starting to feel like the day I board the plane and fly back to Los Angeles is just around the corner... and honestly, I'm a little bit scared.
I'm scared of what it will be like to go back to my life after this.
I'm afraid that I will be too different to just pick everything right back up. I'm afraid that my world, that was once so familiar, is going to look a just little bit stranger now.
I mean, what am I going to do when my bread can't double as a walking stick and costs more than 40 cents?????
Just kidding, that's the least of my worries.
(But seriously, I'll miss the baguette)
It's just, I feel so different here. It wasn't until my mom came to visit last week that I realized how little like the usual Erin I have been feeling and acting in this new environment. I guess you could say I'm still myself, just out of my original context.
Perhaps most of all I'm afraid of this question, which I KNOW I will be hearing.
"So how was France?"
Please, I beg you, if you are reading this, do not ask me this question when I see you next.
Ask me about French people, about French culture, or about French food, about the people i've met, the friends i've made, the lessons I've learned. Ask me about adjusting to life in another country, ask me about my school, my classes, my peers, the places I travelled. Ask me about museums, art, architecture. Ask me my perception of Paris, France, and Europe (because let's not forget, that's all it really is—my perception) Or at least ask me what I liked and what I disliked about my time abroad. Ask me about learning the French language, ask me about French politics, heck, even French fashion. OR, make me really happy, and ask about French HISTORY! In fact, please ask me about French History, and I will tell you all about it for the rest of the day.
I'm no expert on any of these topics, but I'd be happy to share my very shallow, biased impression of things.
But please, please, PLEASE, don't ask me "how was France?"
Because if you catch me on a day when I don't feel like breaking my own heart by saying "It was great. a lot of fun and I learned so much,"
I will probably just get real cheeky with you and say "no, you first, how was America?" :)
_______________________________________________
A couple more random additions to Erin as of November 14th!
I have to register for classes tomorrow night, and I am entirely done with general education and have junior standing in units... and I still. don't. have. a. major. Go me! Hopefully my nose will be up for helping me enroll in some classes for winter quarter...
Also, remember how I ran 26 miles in the SF Marathon that one time? Well I ran a whole mile yesterday... and it was really difficult.
On a positive note! I'm getting really good at French! I can understand people (when they don't speak too fast or complicated) and I'm starting to get the hang of speaking and pronouncing. It makes life go a lot more smoothly around here. Which is FANTASTIC, because it has absolutely no practical value in Davis, California, which is where I will be in just a couple months! Hooray! ;)
_____________________________________________
Hey, so in conclusion, we can illogically draw from all these unrelated rants of mine, that you should have a good day. Be happy. Do that thing that is good for your soul.
All my Love <3
-Erin
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