like painted kites those days and nights went flying by

Wow, today has just been one of those awful, awful days that blindsides you every once in awhile.

It all started with my lack of sleep, I think, because even though I got seven or eight hours last night, the two-day trek back from Italy is something that my body surely hasn't recovered from yet. Pair general fatigue with my recently re-sprained ankle and I was already pretty ready to drop.

But the really bad part was when ML and I trekked all the way out to class and discovered that this grève nonsense is still going on. I still say that I respect French administration, chercheurs/enseignants, and etudiants, but for the sake of everything holy, this is the fourth week of strikes. When we got there the students had taken it upon themselves to physically blockade the stairs / doors to the auditorium with tables, chairs, etc. I've never encountered so much opposition for trying to go to class before.

So back to Quai Sarrail we marched in the cutting wind, chilly and miserable, both (I suspect) wishing we were walking along the sunny River Arno in Florence again.

This was particularly crushing to me because I was impatient during much of Italy to get back to a life with a routine. Although students might not have the strictest time schedule, everyone sorts out their own daily plan and I especially like to have a reliable routine to my days. It helps me feel productive. But I came back and things are just as nonsensical as before.

All these things combined, I spent the remaining morning hours curled up miserably in bed, rolling back and forth with the ponies tucked against me, feeling completely sorry for myself and generally homesick. I finally gave in to the need for some external comfort and dialed your number from Skype, despite the extreme earliness of the hour (just around 6am at home). On the third try I woke you up successfully, and I got to hear your bewildered, sleepy voice on the other end of the line, slowly making sense of my words. Undeniably comforting, if very selfish.

After that I summoned all my courage and got out of bed, walked to the kitchen (blessedly deserted of roommates, who were similarly napping or out), and slowly put some lunch together. Once I had fed myself and had some tea I curled up again and closed my eyes, convinced my body needed rest. I woke up a couple times but managed a two-hour nap, waking in the late afternoon to bright sunlight pouring onto me.

I'm still upset about the same things (no classes, few chances to practice my French, a feeling of general uselessness) but feeling much less despairing about them. I've made a resolution to go running more, because I need a higher level of exercise than I'm getting here, but the full-body fatigue combined with the ankle makes that seem like a bad idea for today. Maybe I will practice some self-defenses or kendo stance sword work tonight to take it easy.

I have to say that was the worst that I've felt not just since coming to France, but in a long, long time. I hope things here settle the way that they're supposed to, and soon.

I think that's all for now, Lesbia. From across the ocean, I bid you au revoir.

and what if there are no damsels in distress?

I had a friend once who owned the complete discography of Ani DiFranco. I had forgotten about this album until a few minutes ago, and Not A Pretty Girl stuck out at me. I like angry Ani better than almost anything.

Lyon is Raining. Not just raining as in for a few hours, stopping toward the evening and breaking into a lovely, mild night. Raining as in with a capital "R", pouring from the first light in the morning until late at night, pedestrian streets flooding, crosswinds flipping umbrellas inside out on the bridges, water driven absolutely sideways by the gusts. You can barely stand in a doorway without getting soaked to the skin.

It is a particularly bad time for this kind of rain because we have not had classes for more than a week now due to the professor strikes against Sarkozy's education reforms. I finally heard a good explanation -- he is trying to change the requirements for becoming a teacher, shifting the focus away from historical and cultural knowledge to pedagogical logic, as in, how to teach, rather than what to teach. The French are not reacting positively.

You can see how the combination of these two things can get a girl down. But I've tried to have a productive day, braving the rain to explore bookstores and pick up plenty of groceries for the weekend (seriously, where does all my money go?) and suchlike.

We're also planning the Florence trip, which is getting more and more out of control. Hopefully all will, in fact, go as planned.

Off to be anti-social until dinner.

Election international

Tomorrow, as you are all painfully aware by now, is the much-awaited inauguration day. While I am across the ocean, currently hunting for a bar or a friend with a television so I can watch Obama's speech with my fellow expatriots tomorrow evening (due to the time difference, it will be from five to eight pm here), I am thinking tonight about November fourth of last year.

My memories of the first presidential election during which I had the right to vote are decidedly positive, and also charged with feeling.

I remember walking into the polls, fixing the familiar middle-school gym with a direct stare, aware that history was being made. I stood in line and thought, most appropriately, about showing you the movie Iron Jawed Angels, about the sacrifices that were made so that I, and not only you, could vote on that day.

Exit polling was a whole new excitement for me, and I stood in the rain and did it, to the delight of a PolySci student in the parking lot. Then I ran back to the car, raving about how exciting exit polls were, and you laughed as we drove away.

That night there were two bottles of wine, the winning bottle and the losing one, a white and a red, and we curled up tight in the already-drafty living room and held our breath as the results came in, state by state.

It was eleven pm by the time that they called Virginia blue, and I looked at you, and you looked back at me, in disbelief and the dawning realization that it had really happened. We ran out into the dark street and set off fireworks, listening to the exuberant reveling that was starting around us, enveloping the two of us in a cloud of smoke and noise. I called my mother, woke her up, screeched my excitement into the phone over a bad connection.

We left the door standing open and I didn't hear a word of any victory of concession speech, didn't see the footage of proud supporters crying and laughing at the same time.

We stood on the corner of the damp porch and held each other tightly under the eaves, and I think I cried a little bit when I said we did this, this is happening because we're here.

And then I said something else, something I hadn't intended or even known I would say, the words tumbling from me into you like little birds, half-whispered in my second language (prettier by far than the first) and you stared down at me. Say it again, you said. And I did, brazen and eyes wide open this time, unmistakably there.

You picked me up and carried me across the threshold into the house, kicking the door shut as we went. We turned off McCain's concession speech and that was the end of that.

You're going to miss inauguration, you told me, and I just smiled.

And yes, I do wish I could be home to celebrate with the rest of everyone, but most particularly with you. It will be good and it will be moving and it will be unmistakably positive to watch it here, whenever I can, bonding in our little island of Americana one third of a world away. But it won't match even a quarter of the goodness of last November.

On an unrelated note, here are the songs that I have come to miss the most:
Babylon / David Grey
When You Were Young / Oasis
So Alive / Ryan Adams
Reva Thereafter / Girlyman
Live Your Life / Rhianna feat. TI
Wonderwall / Cat Power
Under the Table and Dreaming / Dave Matthews Band

All those songs that I used to play while I was driving and sing along with, drumming my hands on the steering wheel, constantly ramping up the volume until it filled the whole world.

Well, hello, you!

Here are the things you should really know:

Lyon, France is good so far. I would say that, for a girl with commitment issues and fears of traveling and an introverted nature, I'm adjusting pretty well. I've done a good job of making friends, I think. We're moving into an apartment today, but I'll still be with two friends, so that is good.

I never thought I would hear Taylor Swift over here, but I did, and I won't lie, it made me miss you very much.

Anyway, we're trying to organize, so off I go. New places, here we come.

Oh, and I discovered at dinner last night that one of the girls I am moving in with was, no joke, E and M's next door neighbor in Reeves last year. Small world, isn't it?

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

I leave for France in three days.

Pepsi is arranged for, with five different people on hand to ensure that he is cosseted, ridden, petted, fed, trimmed, and generally smushed with love.

Red Stripe and Thé will be delivered to the nest on Saturday, and my car will remain at my parents' house, hopefully to be driven occasionally.

That's the everything of value that I own; all of my sundry possessions that I can't take are staying in boxes here. Mostly books and fancy clothes, as well as school things and odds and ends that I don't need or can buy overseas.

***

I'm ready to go. As Rick said, I guess I'll find out when I get on the plane, but I just stood in a parking lot and yelled "I'll see you in France!" which pretty much sealed the deal.

And I realized that this is the beginning that is coming from the end. To be honest, this town is crushing me with thoughts and memories of you, and as much as I love home, I don't want to come back until my guilt and pain have lessened. The only thing I really want is time.

you take it on faith, you take it to the heart

A solid couple of hours of organizing and then I am off to the barn. Despite the sub-30 degree temperatures, "having" to go to the barn every day to feed Doughboy, Nan's adorable retired miniature showhorse, is a delight. My personal resolve is to ride Pepsi every day until I leave for France. There is something about being a part of the barn's literal everyday life that lets you see so much more than just your horse.

I'm in love with my latest mixtape and I've circled tomorrow night in highlighter on my metaphorical calendar.

I think I'm going to purge some of the old teenage-me things from my room -- clear the bulletin board of senior year's reminders (keeping those that mean something, like my first test invite in kendo and my bryn mawr acceptance letter), organize the standing bookshelf in a way that makes sense, leave some shelves empty.

Today when I made my bed I tucked the sheets underneath in the way that we do together, and folded the duvet back to half-length. Then I slatted the blinds, looked around, and realized maybe all I need is a more peaceful place to call home, rather than a larger space for useless things.

I'm wearing a new sweater, to top it all off. A splurge, but one I look very warm and collegiate and incredibly cozy in, and one I will probably wear on the plane to Lyon. Two weeks, by the way!

will you count me in?

I never know how to start these things. I can't sleep, which is the truth of why I'm here, lying on my back with my old glasses on, instead of the slightly different lying on my stomach with my eyes closed, sleeping peacefully.

The amount of work I am accomplishing is staggering, my commitment to showing up for things (classes, appointments, social promises) slightly less so. I can't believe it's already December, that month we loathe like no other. Even February, with its chilling rain and miserable shortness, doesn't approach this dreaded "holiday season."

I get halfway down the screen and realize honestly? I have nothing left to say.

Edit: I feel horribly sick and I know that it's my mind more than my body that is actually feeling this way, but that isn't making it better.

Here's hoping things get better soon.