Parfois, exister dans la liberté est plus douloureux que rester dans le confortable.
Sometimes, existing in freedom hurts more than staying in what is comfortable.
I have officially finished my first year of my master’s degree at the Sorbonne. These past few years of school have been such a ride that I have decided to take a year off. I wanted to share what having spent the past four years at university meant for me, because they taught me so much more than just history. Continue reading “Au Revoir La Sorbonne… For Now”
In August, I will officially celebrate my 4th year anniversary with France. By now, you would think I know well the country I have adopted. This year has taught me that I have yet to learn about the French. Continue reading “Strikes Take Over France”
Here I am, on the final stretch of what is my first year at university. First off, the first semester took forever… the second one just flew by. I really don’t know where the time went there. Continue reading “An Ode to My First Year at University”
When I was a teenager, I thought I knew it all. My parents always drove me crazy, and they ~ didn’t understand ~ me. I was a moody teenager who was lost and angry and expressed myself through theatre, music and writing. That was all I ever wanted to do. When we moved to Indiana and I had the problems I did with my high school administration (explained in this post), I felt even more lost. I was not going to be able to do college like any typical student, and getting my degree was going to take longer. So after graduating, I did a year of community college, worked two jobs and still did not feel satisfied. It just wasn’t what I wanted to do. So I decided to take a year off and head abroad (honestly, it was only suppose to be a year!). Continue reading “A Decision to Start University at 21”
I grew up with a mother who had an accent. I remember a time when we were in the pool and she was speaking to me in Spanish (because our relationship is in Spanish) and someone told her to speak in English because she was in America. I remember at times having to translate her English so people could understand what she was trying to say. I never understood her frustration at times, because I understood my mother. I loved her accent. I wanted it at times because I thought it was the best sound in the world, coming home with friends who had never met her and surprised at my Spanish background (because I obviously don’t “look” like someone who speaks Spanish). It was something that made my mother unique (out of obviously the other countless things that do).
Then I moved abroad, and one day I got the accent. I can’t deny that these past two years I have been lucky to meet people that absolutely love the accent and are welcoming to their country. I got a reality check when I started school. I have met my fair share of people, who I am very lucky and fond of (they make sure I am following the classes and understand well, telling me if I ever need help they are a phone call away). I have also met people that roll their eyes and probably wonder how I ever got into the university.
Continue reading “You Don’t Know How Smart I Am”