One and one-half acres of rainforest are lost every second....

and I'm sorry to say that I am probably responsible for the loss of somewhere between three and four hours of trees, at that rate.

Now I know what you're thinking.

ERIN! Think of the environmental impact! The loss of habitat! Loss of OXYGEN! Don't you know how many species of animals, plants, and microorganisms are lost every year because of deforestation??

Well first of all; Yes. I do. About 50,000.... but let me explain. What could cause an earth-loving girl like me to commit such an atrocity!?  One word: PAPERWORK.

Since I started this whole study abroad process, I feel as if I have gone through a forests-worth of paper.  Applications, forms, letters, instructions, and, most importantly, photocopies. Tons and tons of photocopies.

This process has definitely taught me a little about how to navigate through the notorious bureaucracy in the U.S. as well as in France, and a LOT about the importance of organization. I'm no slob, but I have never been quite so organized as I am with this process. I think staying organized has helped to significantly minimize the stress that I have experienced so far.

I can't say the same for my parents; even if they don't show it, I'm pretty sure they are freaking out.

I say all this so that I can reassure prospective study-abroad-ers that the process is VERY doable, and there is no reason to be intimidated--but it definitely helps to be neat and stay on top of everything.

Actually, who am I kidding, I am saying all this because I like to ramble on about things. But hey, if I can offer a little advice from my experiences in the rambling process, then great! Stay organized, read instructions, and keep everything together so it's easy to find.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go nurse my paper cuts and restock my supply of blue-or-black-ink pens for Erin vs. paperwork, round 3!

Smiling is the universal language... right?

I've been doing a lot of reading lately about French culture. One particular book that I can't put down, entitled French or Foe?, explores cultural misunderstandings between Americans and the French. Polly Platt gives insight on French culture and communication that is based not on surface observations, but on a holistic understanding of the historical and anthropological context of what makes French people so.. French. She does make some pretty bold generalizations; you just have to recognize that, as in any culture, attributes of the population as a whole are not essential to every individual. I would definitely recommend this book for anyone preparing to study abroad in Paris--but then we'll see if her claims live up to reality once I actually get to France.

She lays out some simple codes for being in sync with French culture, and the first and most important one is: DON'T SMILE.

Now one thing that Buddy the Elf and I have in common is that we love to smile. Smiling is our favorite.

This might be a problem for me.

The author goes into detail about the way that this simple difference between American and French folks can cause cultural misunderstandings. Americans (and other anglophones) might see the French as cold, rude, and unfriendly. Meanwhile, the French might find the constant wide and fake smile of American visitors to be manic, hypocritical, and a little bit terrifying.

That got me thinking.

You see, I like to think that smiling often and giving a grinning "hello" to everyone I see is who I am innately. To say that it's just something that has been pounded into my head by an American cultural hammer is, to say the least, a bit unnerving.

It's kind of like the first time someone told me that individualism was a cultural value caused my socialization in a Western society.
"Now you wait one second mister academic smarty-pants! I have the individual right to be whoever I want to be, and if I decide I want to value individualism then by-gosh I'll....
oh.... right." 

While it might be hard for me to suppress my smile as I walk down the street, I am actually quite cajoled by the idea. It's not that French people don't smile, it's just that they only smile when they have a reason. That makes a French smile much more meaningful than an American's compulsory facial contraction in response do making eye contact with any stranger passing on the street...

It's amazing how much more compelled I am to learn about French language, culture, and history, when I know that very soon it is going to be a reality for me. As I read, I find myself already falling in love with French culture--and I'm not even there yet! The most disappointing thought for me is that five months is such a short time. I will no doubt arrive to Paris as a foreigner and leave several months later, suitcase full of photos and memories, as a foreigner, nonetheless.
c'est la vie!

eight squared is sixty-four....

and not only is that the atomic number of gadolinium, the total number of squares on a chess board, and the model of my childhood favorite nintendo game console, but it is also the number of days until I leave for Paris.

What 64 probably is NOT, is the number of French words I know at this point. In fact, if you add the digits 6 and 4, that is still more than the total French words I know. Subtract 4 from 6? Well that's probably a little more accurate. Why, Bonjour monsieur! :)

So what am I doing flying across the atlantic and living in an apartment by myself in a city in which I barely speak the language, know little about the culture, and will be almost 6,000 miles from California??

oh. I was actually hoping you could tell me...

Those who know me well hear me complain a lot about how I don't have a plan for my life. I have to confess, that's only partially true. I do have my reasons, more reasons than I can fit into a blog post of a reasonable length, for going to Paris this fall.

While I might seem lost and directionless to most, I am actually pretty certain about my goals. Maybe I have a lot more dreams than I have ever been bold enough to share with the world.

This is the best way I can describe it. When you say your dreams outloud, they suddenly seem so far from reach--like they're bubbles that you just blew and you realize you could never jump high enough or run fast enough to catch them all before they pop and disappear. So I just like to keep my little dream-bubbles safely in the jar, so to speak.
And if you were wondering, yes, these bubbles ARE the edible kind--raspberry flavored.

Point is, I'm looking to make a dream tangible this Fall. I wasn't made to be stagnant. We all say we want to see the world; I think I'm going to actually go do it!