Meh.

Winter is slowly descending upon this city of lights, and in my opinion, that makes it a thousand times better. Maybe it’s the smell of the metro, or the insane attempts to wear scarves in 80-degree weather, but summer in Paris is harsh. Now that it’s colder, my oh-so-French scarves and sweaters will be put to much better use.

After my Dante midterm on Friday, I was a bit morose. Even after studying all night (something very new to me), there was still one thing I didn’t know that was apparently quite important: always use pen. My lack of ink, combined with several little expressions of subtle disappointment and disapproval from the professor, was successful in making me feel my place at the university: new fish.

Sidenote: I’m pleased to note that this new fish aced the midterm with several notes on her essay as to its quality.

 Luckily, I had only that class for the day -- my psych class having been cancelled for a study trip I did not attend – and used the opportunity to finish reading Dracula and do a little sightseeing while I was at it. I left the school at 3:00 (15h00 for you Europeans) and walked for four hours. I started off on one street and followed it through three arrondissements, passing a group of protesting students along the way (more anti-retirement reform demonstrations, but no fires or rocks, as MSN.com reports). I sat for a while in Luxembourg gardens, reading, freezing, and tempting pigeons with my trail mix. I went walking through the gardens, having given up on Stoker for the day. Autumn in the Northwest has a very distinctive smell, and it was nice to smell the familiar odor of rotting leaves in the middle of a big city.

               

Sidenote: I recently received a care package of chai tea and trail mix. In a little less than a week, I’ve gone through three pounds of trail mix and endless cups of tea. I think it’s really helped me get through the days: the trail mix makes me more outdoorsy, and the tea makes me more English (if such a thing is possible).

Saturday, I met up with Gilles. I now have serious doubts as to his credibility and intentions, and will therefore definitely not be dining with him and his “family.” His creeper status after Saturday was put on Scarlet alert. (That’s the highest, for all you terrorism-buffs out there.)

Sunday was a day of hardcore sleeping and solitaire… as in the card game, not the state of being alone. I really love solitaire. Spider solitaire, actually. Nothing is better for clearing the brain of its important functions. Also: finished my research paper after much procrastination. How much procrastination? Too much proctastination. Specifically, this much procrastination:

Yes, that is trail mix. Yes, I did put everything in neat little rows... and if you must know, yes, all the M&M's are facing the same way. But this is a totally normal way to eat trail mix.

Monday was full of German cinema. We watched The Tin Drum, a film that is equal parts “oh my God, what is going on? There is a full-grown child in that woman’s prosthetic womb” and “dear cheesemuffins, that severed horse head is full of eels!” Needless to say, it’s a fantastic film, and you should definitely see it (if you’re not offended by bizarre sexual acts, loud, piercing screams, and the aforementioned horsehead/prosthetic womb). I liked it, even if it is a little like “Eraserhead” meets Nazis meets Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

In the spirit of good cheer anticipated by the impending holiday season, I’ve decided to become a fairy of good will, like an American Amelie. My goal is to orient tourists, to help the lost. My targets: English-speaking, obviously-bewildered couples/families. I’ve already helped two groups, and it felt really nice. It’s a completely selfish act, though. In helping them, I’m really just getting them to their destination so they won’t be standing in the way like daft cows. They look for the most bizarre things, too. One family asked me which way the Eiffel Tower was… A tough one… Step one to finding the Tower: look up. Step two: you found it. Good job. Here’s a cookie. Now go take some pictures and get solicited by a thousand illegal souvenir guys.

Sidenote: I didn’t know it was illegal for those guys to sell souvenirs when I first got here. Now it’s become really obvious, though, with the whole running-from-the-police-and-getting-chased-down thing. I actually saw a bicycle cop chasing a couple of these guys down. It was fascinating, exhilarating, terrifying, and funny all at the same time. The officer was actually hissing at the souvenir guys. Très bizarre, n’est pas? And even though it’s illegal, there are TONS of them. TONS! Walking by the Eiffel Tower, one becomes aware of a tinkling that fills the air like the buzz of cicadas; that’s the sound of a hundred guys with keychains jingling at passers-by. They are the triangles in the orchestra of Paris: noticeable in excess and a little annoying. If they added a chorus section, it would chant: “six, one; six, one.”

Other than the above, nothing important has happened. I await the school’s Halloween party with much anticipation. Now if I could just figure out how to fix a beehive hairdo…

I realized that I haven’t posted anything else from my drawing class up here yet. It’s not just fruits and vegetables. It’s also quick sketches, nude models and bread (how French). So, here goes:

Part of a still life. The art professor has a bunch of skulls. This is his illegal human skull. Her name is Barbara.

Another skull... sheep's skull...

Erm... it's supposed to be a croissant.

People are hard to draw. JSYK

One of the poses from our first nude model...

Another pose from first nude model...

We were supposed to take something small and blow it up. I blew up my ring. Poor thing. It never saw it coming.