That moment when you're pretty sure that there's bird poop on your pants but you wear them anyway. I still have done nothing to rectify the situation.
I didn't go to bed until a few minutes till eleven last night because I spent so much time talking to mom. When my alarm went off this morning I was just not feeling it. I waited for my phone to finish ringing and got myself up. I made a cup of coffee, grabbed a bowl of cereal, and went to my desk. It was a beautiful sunny day outside and it made being stuck at my desk all morning a little bit nicer. I've missed the sunshine. First up was reading a NY Times article about MOMA tearing down the Folk Art building. It was a quick read and is not worth writing (except to say what MOMA did was a crime against art and architecture. for shame, MOMA). Next was studying for pop. I've finished outlining all my notes so tomorrow will begin a period of increased studying for me. I'm not looking forward to it. After my review of EDM in France, I moved on to my reedit of my synecdoche paper for histories. I tried my best to address the problems that Christina mention, but the raging headache I had really wasn't helping. I'm not going to spend the weekend agonizing over my paper so I emailed it to myself and have marked it "finished" in my mind. I'm hoping that my efforts will increase my score by three percent to bump me up to a 95. That seems fairly reasonable to me.
Next I practiced my pop presentation. Is it weird that I was disappointed for only speaking for ten minutes, 12 seconds for a 10 minute presentation? Something is wrong with me. I tried my presentation again but got tongue tied and frustrated. I broke out the nutella and tried another two times. After the presentation I studied for French. I only got one subjunctive conjugation wrong (qu'il ait), but am having a devil of a time remembering évier and ranger la chambre. Why can't I remember Marie s'est lavée?!!! Breath. I just have to remember that I'm aiming to get a 75. I can manage that.
After studying for French I took a break for lunch. I watched some Judge Judy while eating some almost burnt popcorn (the centers of some kernels were beginning to blacken). Next up was studying for histories for an hour. I almost finished the very last lecture that I have to outline, but I just didn't feel like finishing it. Histories is going to be my easy final so I'm not worried about studying too much. Tomorrow I'll finish the outline and then do some review. I just need to waste some time until Christina hands out the essay questions. Then I can get all types of crazy.
I got back into bed to reread my pop essay. It seems greatly improved from before, but I can't help but feel worried about it. What if I don't do as well as I'm hoping? I'm having weird PTSD flashbacks from my first essay. I just need to relax and try to let it go. Worrying isn't going to make my paper any better. By the time I finished editing it was already after four. I knew that I couldn't squander the day in bed so I looked through my to-do list. I looked up Moulin Rouge and figured that I'd go another day. I did, however, read that Josephine Baker used to perform J'ai Deux Amours there and garner crowds of 1,200 people a night. I should remember that for my presentation (I am talking about that song, after all). One item that I've been eyeing lately is going to Rue Mouffetard on a Saturday (the specificity of the day is what has kept me from doing it a long time ago) and going to Gelati d'Alberto. I googled it, and realized that I had written down to go on a Saturday because that's when there's a street market. I've been to enough of those that I didn't feel too guilty for missing it. I also learned that Hemingway wrote about the street in one of his books.
I looked up the address and realized that it was fairly close to Caroline's apartment. I looked at the route that google said that I should take and thought that it was unnecessarily complicated. I should remember that I'm not smarter than google. I started on my way: I walked down Daumesnil, turned left on Ledru-Rollin, crossed the Austerlitz bridge, turned right at the McDo, and started walking past the natural history museum with its creepy skeletons in the windows and wooly mammoth outside. I walked and walked forever. I walked and walked and then made a left hand turn. I didn't think it was the right street, but I thought that Rue Mouffetard was in that direction. I figured that I'd find it eventually. I walked and walked and started to go up a hill into a quartier with small streets. I finally looked up at a street sign and saw that I was in the 13th! I wanted to be in the 5th! I quickly went back down the hill.
On my way back down I was called out to by an older woman trying to get into an apartment complex. I thought that she wanted me to hold the door open for her so that she could get inside with her walker, but she seemed to have more instructions for me. I told her that I was sorry but I didn't speak French. I tried to help her with her walker, but she motioned for me to just hold the door open. When she got inside she turned to me and overly exaggerated her pronunciation of "merci beaucoup" to which I responded "bien sûr, bonne soirée". She smiled and said "et vous aussi" and walked inside. It was a sweet moment between two people who don't speak the same language, but I still wish that I could have helped her more. She seemed like such a nice lady. I hope she got inside okay.
I continued on my journey and started to think that I'd never find my destination. I would just have to give up the hunt, get McDo, and go home. I figured that I'd give it one last attempt. I walked along Jardin des Plantes and lo and behold I saw the street that I was supposed to turn on! I must remember that I'm not smarter than all holy google...even if it wants me to cut through a park using the internal street system of the park.....I started to walk up the hill, and it seemed deserted. It was completely dark and lifeless until the actual moment that I reached Rue Mouffetard. Literally, the street I was on came to a T with Rue Mouffetard and I was still confused as to where I was. The rue was extremely bright due to a combination of street lights and shop lights and people were everywhere. I started looking for Gelai d'Alberto and stumbling upon its dark façade. It was closed...on a Saturday night before six! I'm hoping that it is permanently out of business. That would make me feel better. I popped into a few shops and then walked up a side street that was lined with restaurants before turning back to go home.
My stomach was rumbling from its lack of ice cream, and I decided that today would finally be the day that I got McDo. I went to the McDo near Caroline's house that I pass on my way home and went inside. I went to one of the kiosks so that I could avoid talking to an employee. I'm still not confident in my ability to order food in French. I picked out a medium order of potato wedges (ohmygod they have potato wedges in Europe!!) and a chicken wrap (sans salade et tomate) from the petit faim menu and then tried to pay. The machine makes you insert a card before you start ordering so I thought that my card was accepted. It turns out that it wasn't. I was just about to forget about the whole thing when the screen said that I should proceed to the cashier and that my order had gone through. I was then motioned over by an employee who said that they had my order but that I still needed to pay. I ponied up the 4,25 and rushed out with my sack of warm goodness.
I was going to wait until I got home, but having the warm sac in my hands made me even hungrier. I figured that I'd just eat the potato wedges while I walked. Oh. My Lord. They were so good. Maybe I just miss potato wedges, but these were so warm and the inside was so soft and they were perfectly coated in seasoning salt. They were like heaven. Why didn't I go to McDo sooner?!!!! I did stop shoving potato wedges in my face for long enough to look over the Seine and see Notre Dame lit up in the distance. I was still more concerned with my potato wedges than enjoying the view. I was walking along, and had recently finished my potato wedges (and realized that they came with some sort of special sauce that I neglected), when I saw a bright colored light swinging in the distance. I realized that the light was right in front of the Bastille. I figured that I'd walk over, see a Christmas display from a distance, and then continue on my merry way. I walked to the bridge over the canal and saw the swinging light. I also saw some coats with Christmas lights on them. I then saw more lights at the base of it. It had to be something interesting, and I had to investigate. Curious like a cat.
I sat down on a bench to open my chicken wrap. I first investigated the sauce. It was some kind of tartar that I wasn't interested in. Next I opened the chicken wrap. It was really small, but it was wrapped in a tortilla! That's right, a freaking tortilla! I was so excited. I bit into it and it was like a heaven of crispy fried mystery meat like chicken substance. Divine. I tossed my bag into a nearby trashcan and started to walk towards the lights while munching on my chicken wrap. I think there was cheese in there, but all I could taste was mystery sauce and tortilla. Fine by me. I finished it fairly quickly and was almost to the Bastille. It turns out that a mini carnival had been set up in the plaza near the canal! I walked through it for a second with the thoughts of getting a waffle. The stand wasn't busy so I was pretty sure that I wouldn't get a freshly cooked waffle. I was full anyway.
I then walked home. I got upstairs and started to look up flights to Barcelona without even talking off my clothes and changing into pjs. It turns out that I waited too long. Flights are getting more expensive. I started to stress eat nutella until I realized that I was scraping the bottom of the jar. I really shouldn't keep that stuff in the house. Earlier I had shoved it in the placard to stop myself from eating it. That definitely does not work. I then tried to pay for the flight that I thought would be the cheapest only to realize that there was a 23 euro charge for each checked bag! I immediately emailed Caroline to see if she can keep one of my suitcases for the few days that I'm gone. Hopefully she can, and hopefully she responds soon. I need to hurry up in book a flight.
Ugh, time for bed already. What a day.
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