After living in Paris for four months and falling in love with basically everything about it, friends kept telling me that I needed to watch Julie and Julia. So tonight as I stood in the wind and rain and scanned through the options on the redbox machine, I added it to my cart and paid the dollar rental fee. When I got home, I put the dvd in, cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and turned off the lights. As it began with Julia Child in Paris, I couldn’t help but whimper at the site of the charming streets that I miss so much. I giggled to myself over the things Julia would say as she adapted to her new lifestyle and attempted to learn French. It brought back so many memories of myself trying to communicate with my elementary vocabulary to the Parisiens. Sometimes I just felt like I was making an ass out of myself but didn’t know how to do it any other way. Do we call those growing pains? I’m not quite sure.
One memory that comes to mind was a night that Jason and I walked to the nearest Grec Restaurant. While I was paying, Jason went to the restroom to wash his hands and the man at the register began speaking to me. I nervously attempted to converse, stammering as I talked. He was asking me what I was doing in Paris and where I came from. When I told him les etats-unis he began asking me more questions about home. He wanted to know if it was as diverse as Paris, at least that’s what I thought he was asking. So I enthusiastically was telling him yes and that we have all kinds of nationalities in the United States similar to Paris. He didn’t seem to believe me and as the conversation continued I was praying for Jason to get out of the bathroom and save me. When he finally appeared, he had a big grin on his face. He later admitted that after he had washed his hands, he heard the man and I talking so he took his time giving me the opportunity to practice my French. I asked him if I was answering the questions correctly and he said that I did fine. I hated those moments because I was so scared of making a fool of myself but looking back on it, that’s how I learned. Sounds cliché, I know. But the whole reason I’m writing this entry is completely cliché. After finishing the movie I was inspired by the story of Julia Child, Julie Powell, and the scenes of Paris to sit down and write!
Lately I’ve been contemplating what my goals and aspirations in life are. I realize that I need to finish school at some point but I’m not feeling very rushed at the moment. As May nears, I prepare for my third summer working in Alaska and I wonder what’s next? Do I come home early and go back to school at UVU? Or… do I follow my dream of finding a job in Paris and moving back? Obviously, the latter is winning. So if life goes as planned, which it never does…eight months from now I’m going to be back in Paris, sitting at a corner café enjoying an expensive cappuccino and writing about life. I just want to go back and write.
My biggest regret is not writing enough while I lived there. I justified it by a lifestyle on the go. Traveling every weekend I could, added to the twelve hours of French class a week, which didn’t even include the hours of studying. Plus all the while working on my online course of British Literature. The thing is, life never slows down. We’re always busy being consumed with school, work, family, etc. etc. I’m nearly 25 and I’m still trying to master the art of prioritizing my time. In my numerology report, it all too accurately described me by saying, “You are about freedom, independence and the right to follow where your heart and gut-instincts lead you in life. You are an inquisitive soul with many questions that can only be answered through travel, exploration and experiencing a variety of life situations”… “One of your challenges is learning how to not waste time.”
This is one challenge that I battle on a daily basis but if I can organize and prioritize what’s important to me, less time will be wasted, right? Now where’s my to-do list...
Oh. p.s.
I finally got my grades from Paris. I received a 'B' in my French class. Go me.
