Tuesday, November 12, 2013

To be Parisian, s'il vous plaît.

First of all, 
yes weeks ago I wrote a cop-out haiku explaining that the blog post for that week would be belittled down to… well… a shitty haiku. I believe that between my faithful readers (my grandma) and me, this must have suggested that the following week would feature a full-length blog, and thus I would continue my routine of posting a new blog every week.


It hasn’t really happened, obviously. I have plenty of excuses. Mostly falling under the umbrella of me being the typical self-involved college student who has “meetings”, job interviews, homework, class, and scheduled time for bitching about my “bad” day to my mother. Really it’s silly, but nonetheless I haven’t written in awhile and I’m … sorry? No actually I’m just sad because writing is good for me and I should do it more often. So I’m going to do it now.
Lately, I’ve been longing for the life of a storybook, cliché, young, female, Parisian.

Image from here
I can imagine roaming the streets after a relatively busy day of working at a French bakery, probably called “La Petite Boulangerie-Pâtisserie” even though that simply means, “The Small Bakery”. I would be wearing a tan and tailored trench coat, cropped black slacks, and black flats. My make-up would be simple; my hair pulled back without fuss. I would amble down the streets passing book shops, fancy restaurants with colorful awnings and matching chairs, stopping at a café maybe to purchase a cup of coffee and baguette to put in my tote bag on the way home. Upon returning home, I would open up the door to my quaint little balcony to my 4th story apartment, so I could cook my dinner while overlooking Parisian buildings with the dusk spilling dramatic shading over them.

I hope that imagery really did something for you, because it does something for me. Sometimes with this constant, uninspiring stress of being a college student, I will escape to this tiny little fantasy that this calm, French (esque) lifestyle could be mine one day. Don’t get me wrong, I love learning, I love my major, and college can be great sometimes.

However between the anxiety that comes with me over-analyzing assignments that are tedious, (but are important because they help me extend my knowledge from the lecture) and the many on-campus interviews that make me feel like I’m very good at pretending I’m a type-A personality, I tend to get fed up with the college life. This annoyance also extends to me never understanding the undying obsession with Greek life by other college students, having to see too many pairs of Uggs on campus, and constantly hearing people say, “I just want to get an A”. For the latter statement I will just elaborate to say that obviously grades are imperative in that you must pass college to obtain specific jobs and dreams. But saying “I just want to get an A” can easily translate into, “I don’t give a shit about this class or this teacher and am not open minded enough to try to understand how this content is important or even cool and I don’t care because being a picture perfect student on paper is the most important objective in life”. Honestly, that’s just insulting to hardworking and extremely intelligent professors (they DO exist).

But I digress.

I want the Parisian lifestyle because honestly, I just want simplicity. I want to contribute to society and the economy by being employed, but I also treasure the times of leisurely walks home, making a dinner that isn’t rushed and seen as a burden of time, and having a marvelous conversation with someone who isn’t cynical about the petty things, but more so at least would want to discuss (and even enlighten me) on more worldly topics of conversation.

I know that this lifestyle is attainable here in my own home, (though maybe not as a sophomore in college) but I still go throughout the day, pondering my French fantasy.

Maybe one of these days I’ll walk over to Harris Teeter and buy a fresh baguette solely so I can carry it under my arm, as I stroll back to campus. It’s a lovely thought really, to find the simple pleasure in such a stylishly quaint action.

It’s little moments like those, where I can live in a small little bubble of esthetic simplicity, that keep me sane.

Till next week (I hope),

Au revoir, mes chéris.


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