Monday, March 7, 2011

Les Fleurs du Mal


The sun has been shining in Paris lately, and the weather has been hovering around 10 degrees for the last little while.

All the flowers appearing remind me of work.  I miss work.  I want to go back.  I want to wake up too early in the morning, stand in the warm sunshine for a full day, and cut the flowers all summer.  I want to chat all day with my work mates.  I want to attempt my limited Punjabi and work on my Portuguese.  I want to make a fool of myself trying to joke around in Spanish.  I want to weed-whack around the pond and enjoy the presence of our great blue heron. I want it dearly.

The warmth reminds me of Redeemer and how I can lay on my stomach for hours in the quad, looking for clovers, eating licorice and chatting with everyone who passes by.  I miss walking around Hamilton barefoot and not worrying what I look like.  (This carefree attitude doesn't exist in Paris, trust me).

A lot of the joy that I've found before in schoolwork has been missing this year.  I love my classmates, and I enjoy my classes, but I'm finding it difficult to sit down and read Baudelaire, or write a thesis statement.  This is beyond odd for me -- it is downright horrifying.  Which author can capture my heart and soul, if not Baudelaire?  Who am I, if not the Academic?

That being said, I have had of late a big smile on my face too many times to forget.  Most of it revolves around going out with the previous classmates, or getting to know the new ones.  Some of it revolves around the trees budding and the flowers blooming.  A good deal of it revolves around the ridiculously hilarious things my room mate says.  I am very thankful for a lot this year, and I truly am enjoying myself.  but there is still that dull ache of being ready.  Ready to go home, ready to start work, ready to feel grass under my bare toes again.

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