Monday, May 19, 2014

Free From The Shackles

There are many things that happen in springtime, one of which is the fact that I am finally, at long last, after months of being enslaved by what some might refer to as jeans (or most pants in general), freed from the shackles that bind me in oppression for frosty months on end. I frankly just never feel myself amidst the winter months. I love the holidays, I enjoy the shimmer of snowflakes dancing in the wind for approximately a day and a half, after which time my body seems to absorb all coldness in a fifty mile radius and I spend the months of January through April in a rather melancholy state of imprisonment. When springtime arrives, however, (oh sweet decadent spring!) my entire demeanor shifts and I tend more toward the behaviour I sometimes embrace whilst intoxicated... I want to sing poetry while standing on chairs and tell everyone I love them.

This past weekend, the weather spiked up into the 70's (Fahrenheit of course) once again and I officially inaugurated my summer dresses for the season. This of course meant that I had to wander into Forever 21 and buy a new dress to commemorate the occasion after going a little overboard at Sephora. Following that, however, I had a small picnic with a couple of friends in Parc Montsouris, a place I've never been to before, a bit further down in the south of Paris. Not a massive park, but really beautiful and my friends and I responsibly practiced our French for about an hour before switching back to English, all the while eating cheeses, sipping red wine, and indulging in the petit pastries I found at a local patisserie near one of my student's apartments. I had several students over the weekend, wine with friends both Friday and Saturday nights, and was finally able to spend Sunday evening research-paper-free for the first time in several weeks.

Not only that, but this is my last week of classes, huzzah! As the infection of grammatical plague has continued to spread throughout my classmates and myself, I frankly give us all a wild amount of credit for not spontaneously combusting via pronouns or prepositions. Saturday is our big final exam, Monday our oral assessment (which is fascinating since we never practice conversation in class ever never... ever...) and then we are free...What say you?! Oh, yes... FREEEEEEEE!!! Free from yet another pair of venomous shackles, often sugarcoated in French pastried confusion because the language itself seems so beautiful on the surface until gluten intolerance makes you want to rip your stomach out during the aftermath. This is how I feel about the French language at present... Oh so twinkly and romantic when you hear it, until excessive analyzation reveals the bitchy tyrant behind the mask of song. I could continue with various metaphors until the end of time, but the point being that in just one week I will escape the grammatical Bastille and be free... Oh yup that rhymed... Poem and/or song forthcoming...

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