Last minute musings

I am ready to leave.

What do I do, now that the to-do list is empty? What can I say, now that I’ve said goodbye to everyone, given everyone my contact information? Anything else that I do is superfluous, anything else that I say is merely speculation. I don’t know anything. I know just as much about what my life in Paris will be like as you do.

In an uncharacteristic move, I don’t have a novel to read on the plane—just a half-completed book of New York Times crossword puzzles, and a Paris guidebook. And my journal. I think that I sub-consciously believe that if I don’t bring a book, I will be forced to write some subtly brilliant journal entry that will lead to a semester of insightful musings in Paris and, ultimately, publication and fame. More likely, I will buy an Us Weekly and read about Katie stepping out of Tom’s shadow.

Today I went to Great Meadows. Dragonflies swarmed and swooped through the oppressive, sudden September heat. I looked at a dragonfly and, for a fleeting instant, wondered whether there are dragonflies in France. It was a retarded thought—of course there are dragonflies in France—but it said something about how I perceive my leaving for Paris. Going somewhere foreign implicates a sort of ineffable transformation. I bought this weird shimmer lotion at CVS today, something that I would never actually use myself, but when I bought it, I truly believed that I would use this lotion in Paris. In Paris, I will be the type of person who wears weird shimmer lotion. In Paris, dragonflies do not exist. In Paris, I will suddenly be inspired to write the great novel of my generation, I will speak impeccable, effortless French, I will read the news, I will develop a taste for red wine, my name will no longer be Kate, pigs will fly.

A few thousand miles, a six hour flight. I might be the same person when I get there.

My host mother is picking me up at Gare du Nord. I have to take a train there from the airport, and I have been assured by both of my parents that I am going to be robbed on the way there. My host mother is “grande et blonde avec un écharpe rouge!” Old ? Young ? Kids ? None ? We shall see…..ads;lkjf;lksajdf;lkajsoiewupr

eeeeeeeek