And then life happened

And muttering constantly about how long May was taking to finish, I turned around to open the door and found weeks trailing behind me like little ducklings, wondering how long it would take until I noticed them.

It all just happened, just like every other moment of our lives, important and unimportant and essential and thrown away -- it doesn't change, each now unravels precisely as did its predecessor. If there's an apocalypse, it will be just like every other moment and we'll probably never know it happened, until much later.

I don't remember what it was like to be in school, to have homework, to go to class. That's probably a strange thing to say, but this is coming from someone who has trouble remembering what happened last weekend. I think it's a caveat - if that word is even appropriate here - of living in the now. But needless to say, I don't miss it.

Perhaps one reason life is happening behind my back, only to stop guilty when I turn but betrayed by its movement, is that I've been feeling particularly transitory -- unsettled in the most literal sense, un-settled, not settled. And no wonder -- I'm staying in someone else's apartment. I get my clothes from a suitcase. I'm leaving in four weeks (!!!!) from Thursday, to somewhere across the globe that promises to be exactly like nothing I have ever experienced, ever.

It's been many years of violent transition in the family -- the easiest way to describe it is Dad changing careers, but that doesn't cover how the whole family melted like steel in the forge and came out changed. How the life we had before is nothing like the life we live now, down to the way we think, act, make decisions. Inside it's easy to think this is all there ever will be, this uncertain wobbling as we try to figure out where and what to do, how to live when we can barely see tomorrow, let alone our hands in front of our faces.

Lately, I've had a couple thoughts. One, a simple bit of optimism: it won't always be like this. I can imagine a time in the not so distant future when I will have a little place, however small, that is mine, that I can buy little decorations for and come home to each night. Sure, I probably won't know when or where or how to make my dreams of dancing and choreographing come true, but I will have that one little bit of stability. Maybe even many years from now, my company will be well-established. Stability, like life, goes in cycles. At least, I'm willing to bet on it.

The second is something zen masters would probably approve of: until such time that I am settled, I must become settled in transition. Transition needs to be my home for now. Travel lightly. Dance from place to place like a sparrow, ready to fly at every moment.

In the meantime, I'm preparing for the move as best as I can, holding rehearsals, working. Thinking I'm paying attention to time and turning around to find it sneaking by while I wasn't looking.

The Debut: Getting to Paris

Bonjour et bievenue si vous n'avez déjà découvert mon blog. (Hello and welcome if you haven't already discovered my blog). Ne vous inquiétez pas ; Je vais blogger en anglais. (Don't worry; I will be blogging in English).

That is, everything you really need to understand will be in English, and though I will occasionally pop out the French (probably more than occasionally, come to think of it), I will always translate it for you. Unless it's so obvious that I don't need to.

In any case: welcome (bienvenue). This blog is to chronicle my year in Paris, my third year of college, an adventure that will begin this Friday, the 3rd, at 8:15, which is when my flight leaves from Denver. I will include as many pictures as I can, but I warn you right off the bat: my camera *sucks*. I'm not just saying that, it does. C'est absolutement ridicule. It also eats batteries. I'll update when I can or when I feel like it -- but please, feel free to send me e-mails with questions, comments, or requests. Also -- send me letters (M'envoyez des lettres -- s'il vous plait. Je vais vous adorer pour tout le temps si vous le faire --- I'll love you forever if you do.) I will happily give you my address if you want to send letters.

IF you want postcards -- I will do my best to accommodate all postcard requests, so if you want one, please e-mail me with your address. (My e-mail is gillian.g.rhodes@gmail.com). I'll even write something awesome and French on it for you.

One last piece of business: If you can, come visit me (Me rendez visite)!!! Seriously. Do it. I cannot guarantee that you can stay with me but I will find you a good, safe, clean, and cheap hostel. I will do all the talking for you. As a friend of mine says, I can speak frog pretty well and will only get better, seeing as I'll be surrounded by it.

So moving on: Qu'est-ce-que je vais faire à Paris pour neuf mois? (What am I doing in Paris for nine months?) There are a few answers to that. Technically, I'll be taking classes, mostly dance, from the city universities. I'll be living with an older single woman who has a grown daughter my age living in New York.

But that's just barely, barely scratching the surface. What I really mean to say is, je vais aller à Paris pour me perdre. I am going to Paris to get lost. I am quitting life for a year to vanish into French culture. I am going to be utterly selfish and do everything for myself, be viciously alive. I want to learn how to cook, shop at the markets, sit at bistros all day and watch the world go by, bike all over the place and have daring encounters with French drivers.

I have a tendency, for whatever reason, to carry things -- people (metaphorically), worry, whatever it may be. For the last several years, I've been doing it a lot, as my family has gone through a huge transition, with a lot of struggle and uncertainty, and, well, without details, I've just been carrying a lot. I also have a tendency to have a plan, an agenda for everything, always. So what I mean by 'quitting life' is that I'm not doing any of that -- I'm being unimaginably selfish in that I'm not carrying anyone or anything. I'm going to be myself. I have a quotable that says, "Risk more than others think is safe, Care more than others think is wise, dream more than others thinks is practical, expect more than others think is possible." Well, I do that all the time, and I'm stopping trying to be extraordinary now. I'll probably end up risking/caring/dreaming/expecting more than everyone thinks I should, because that's who I am, but I'm not working at anything.

At one point I thought I needed to have a violently passionate affair with a French man while I was at it, but I'm not even sure I want that anymore, if only because it's one other person to balance, and I'm starting to think I just want to be there by myself, for myself. Just to see what it's like.

I am going, exactly as I said, to be lost. C'est le seul chose que je peux faire (it's the only thing I can do). The journey begins on Friday, and I'm no longer anxious. I'm letting go of everything -- the past several years, the summer, whatever it may be. I'm letting it go and throwing myself into the arms of La Ville de Lumiere. I can't wait.

À bientôt, mes chers.