"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." - Oscar Wilde

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

The Only Way to be Grateful?

Okay, I apologize for not updating my blog. It's finals week, so I've been studying non-stop (or not studying), but I've done well. I aced my history exam, which covered seven chapters and French history from Napoleon Bonaparte to WWII (150 years). My art history exam was this morning, and I feel like I did well. My language exams were easy, although I fucked up my oral expression. N'est pas grave. Now I'm finished until Saturday morning when I have my phonetics exam. I'm not worried, since I haven't made anything below an 18/20 in that class.

I'll be home in five days, and I'm struggling with a lot of mixed emotions. The days are long, so it seems like I'll never be home. I've had trouble sleeping recently because reality has finally hit me: I'm leaving France. During the day, I daydream about spending time with my boyfriend, Southern summers, weekly dinners at the General Morgan Inn with my family. At night, I cry. I'm going to leave my friends, people who I feel like I've known forever. I'm leaving my host family behind, and who knows when I'll see them again? All of our local spots, our favorite places to have picnics or grab a beer, they'll all be left behind. It's so overwhelming.

And so I think: I miss the comforts of home, my car, my shitty apartment, my cat...but I took them all for granted when I was the U.S. I came here, and I missed them. As excited as I am to be home, I know that after a week or so, I'm going to miss France. Once again, I'm going to take those American comforts for granted and wish I was back in Angers. Isn't this the terrible thing about human nature? We never realize what we have until it's taken away. Maybe we're only grateful when we're missing something we loved.

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