"I live my life like a French movie, Steve."
So all day I was planning this fun little post, to be accompanied by a portrait or two o' moi. My mom needs a picture of me for something my uncle is doing for my grandpa's birthday and for the collage that apparently will be the family Christmas card, so I arranged to spend some time with a friend this evening so we could take some decent pictures. However, she ended up forgetting, or something... I dunno. Basically, my day ended up with me all dolled up but feeling quite unproductive and somewhat lonely. Around eight, I had to get out, so I walked down to the grocery store to pick up a few things, but realized that I wasn't in the mood to be inside a store, so I just kept walking. I stayed on Blvd Voltaire until I came to Republique, at which point I hopped on the metro, because... why not? I got off at Bastille, and essentially walked along the route the 1 line takes, going all the way to l'Arc de Triomphe.
Turns out, a really long walk was exactly what I needed. I had my iPod, but I never turned it on, listening instead to the city's own soundtrack. It was amazing; despite being cranky, somewhere around the Hotel de Ville and half-way through a cinnamon and sugar crepe I realized that I felt okay again. One of the best parts was getting so lost in my thoughts that my mind would become completely empty for entire chunks of time. Really empty; yoga-empty. Not thinking at all is such a wonderful feeling. It started raining just after I took a few pictures at Place de la Concorde, and even though I brought an umbrella, I walked in the rain. All night I kept hoping for a Harry-on-New-Year's type of revelation, but alas, nothing. I eventually came home and began the drinking-raspberry-lemon-
tea-while-listening-to-Joni-Mitchell-and-The-Smiths portion of my evening. If my life is a French movie, then it's
Playtime and I am Hulot.
