Thursday, July 14, 2005, I guess.

Hi, I don't know if anyone will ever read this, and maybe I prefer that no one ever does. But there certainly is something liberating about writing something-- anything, and sending it out to be judged, analyzed, criticized, and devoured by the overwhelming world of the web.

Well, it's Bastille Day in Paris and already the city is coming alive with it's own version of Independence Day (we did it first and I think we continue to do it better). But, the fireworks should be fun and watching the military (which thanks to some very unfortuanate events in London last week is now everywhere) go crazy every five minutes b/c a tourist decided to take a picture of the American Embassy-- don't try it, it's really, really not worth the effort.

I was going to hang out with a girl from one of my classes, but the truth is, per usual, I could really care less about doing anything today. I am perfectly content to lay in bed and finish reading the fourth Harry Potter book (I am re-reading the series in French), maybe get dressed in order to get something to eat, but really, I have a box of muesli in my room-- ça suffit.

So, introductions:

I am an American girl living in Paris. I am 24 years old. White. Protestant-ish. A student; I study French and Film (and not grammar so many of my postings will be riddled with errors and probably a little franglais).

So,, I guess.


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