"She wanted to die; She wanted to live in Paris."

--Madame Bovary

Ode to Third Period on Tuesdays

It's about a boy
but not the one you thought
a star which
could not be easily forgot
all the same
when we come to our end
flickering flame
fighting against life's wind

Who has ever heard of "un-British" or "un-French" activities? The United States has often been called a "melting pot" because of the many different nationality groups it comprises, but before each generation of immigrants has been fully accepted into American society, it has had to be "Americanized." Few Americans have ever accepted diversity as a value. American society has,in fact, taken great pride in destroying diversity through assimilation.

---The American Approach to Foreign Policy by John Spanier

Pour Me Faire une Beauté ou Pour une Cigarette
(Translation of the Beautiful Carla Bruni)

Quand j'aurai tout compris, tout vécu d'ici-bas,
Quand je serai si vieille, que je ne voudrai plus de moi,
Quand la peau de ma vie sera creusée de routes,
Et de traces et de peines, et de rires et de doutes,
Alors je demanderai juste encore une minute...

When I have understood everything, all of life from now to then
When I will be so old that i won't want anymore of myself
When the skin of my life is cut into routes*
of shadows and sadness, of laughs and doubts,
Then I will ask for just one more minute

Quand il n'y aura plus rien qui chavire et qui blesse,
Et quand même les chagrins auront l'air d'une caresse,
Quand je verrai ma mort juste au pied de mon lit,
Que je la verrai sourire de ma si petite vie,
Je lui dirai "écoute ! Laisse-moi juste une minute..."

When there is nothing anymore which capsizes and which wounds,
and when even the sadness seems to be a caress,
When I see my death at the foot of my bed
I will see it smiling at my so little life,
I will say to him, "Listen! Let me have just one minute..."

Juste encore minute, juste encore minute,
Pour me faire une beauté ou pour une cigarette,
Juste encore minute, juste encore minute,
Pour un dernier frisson, ou pour un dernier geste,
Juste encore minute, juste encore minute,
Pour ranger les souvenirs avant le grand hiver,
Juste encore une minute... sans motif et sans but.

Just another minute, just another minute,
for me to do something beautiful or for one cigarette,*
Just another minute, just another minute,
for a last shudder, or for a last gesture,
just another minute, just another minute,
for rearranging the memories before the great winter,
just another minute...without motive and without aim

Puisque ma vie n'est rien, alors je la veux toute.
Tout entière, tout à fait et dans toutes ses déroutes,
Puisque ma vie n'est rien, alors j'en redemande,
Je veux qu'on m'en rajoute,
Soixante petites secondes pour ma dernière minute.

Since my life is nothing, therefore i want it all
Wholly complete, utterly, with all of its twists and turns*
Since my life is nothing, therefore I ask it again,
I want this one added to me:
Sixty little seconds for my last minute

Tic tac tic tac tic tac
--Le Dernière Minute by Carla Bruni

*I had to take editor's liberties with some of the translating. For this very reason, I have been having more and more trouble reading the bible. having realized the great problem in translating texts and still capturing the essence of the words. I still believe in the Bible but I find it hard to follow the thinking of the southern baptists and other 'biblical christians' who believe in the infallability of a word that is thousands of years old and has been translated and rewritten by thousands more.

Love Letter to a Blog

It has been a long time since last we spoke but I am thinking of you, I want you to know. Before, words would flow out of me, their only hinderance the speed of my keystrokes. Now there is silence. I want to reach out to you again and tell you all about the life I have been living but my words are now lost. I am without a home or country but I feel firmly rooted in place. My longing for independence is gone as I find myself alone. What could I telll you about this alien land? It is cold here. My bed is empty and my heart is slowly following its lead. I want to be happy, and I have found joy, but my young soul is aging every day. No longer do I feel the sheer abandonment of youth but, rather, the cold practicality of wisdom. I want to be stupid and reckless but there are things I love greater than my selfish need.
I love the sense of accomplishment.
I love a well-rested body and a clear head.
I love the moments of silent reflection that last for hours.
I love knowing exactly what I want
I hate not having it
I have not written in a long time but I want you to know I am thinking of you. I need you to know there is something here that I cannot say but one day I will. I will tell you everything, just give me the time.

UPDATE:

I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle this day when it finally came. Today, I will be taking my LSAT at 8am and then flying to Paris at 5pm. By tomorrow night, I will be settling into my new home for the next eight months. All of that to say that I am unsure when I will be able to blog again. Hopefully, I will have some new insight when I do get back. If it takes time, don't lose hope! Good things come to those who wait...