Visual Diary: Rainy Days, Petit Palais, and other Life Things

The past couple weeks have been quite drizzly, blustery, and chilly. I find that time seems to be passing more quickly and naturally now - I've stopped counting the passing weekends, and stopped feeling panicky about the unknown future. The residence card should be in the works as we speak, and I've got a babysitting job lined up for the fall. I've even managed to pick up a little side job for a couple months, which will fund both my student loan payments due in June, as well as my summertime-BFF-Spain trip planned for August. I am far from having everything figured out, but who ever really does?





I was walking through a long, conveyor-belt strip in the Montparnasse metro station a while back, and noticed an advertisement that stretched the entire length of the tunnel. The Paris metro always contains ads for spectacles and temporary art exhibitions, and this particular one was adorned with Belle Epoque images of the Eiffel Tower, World's Fair, Toulouse-Lautrec posters, the Moulin Rouge... basically the quintessential historical Paris. I know I had to see the exhibition asap, because that's my time period! It was housed within the gorgeous Petit Palais and had a wide variety of both art and "cultural artefacts," if you will. Photographs, posters, paintings, garments, books, furniture, an Art Nouveau metro archway, you name it. I tried to get pictures of things, but the lighting is always impossibly low in these kind of exhibitions. We failed to buy advance tickets online to avoid the line, but in the end managed to pick a good day and only waited in the queue for about 25 minutes, and ate some pastries to pass the time!






This week was the first of my new short-term babysitting gig, so I've been out of the house more often than usual, and have focused less on my blog. However, I have been working on a new wordpress-based site design that I'm really excited about! I have a vision for this blog, one that reaches out into other realms, and I really feel that I can achieve this vision if I just keep working at it a little everyday.



Married life has also been especially excellent as of late. I've had a pessimistic, jaded, fearful view of marriage for many years, but I'm happy to say that our relationship at the moment is blatantly defying every single one of those apprehensions. I love everything about this guy, and regardless of what I do with my life, at least I have this really weird, funny, caring person next to me. <3 I will cherish this Instax photo for the rest of my life:


À bientôt mes amies!

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Places I once knew

The other day, I revisited my old neighbourhood. Just walking down that familiar street brought memories that had entirely faded from my brain, rushing back with clarity. I remembered small, impossible details like what my friend ordered that time we ate at the café downstairs, the happy conversation I had with the nearby florist, discussing the contents of paté with my Mother when she visited, shopping for a tiny christmas tree with my best friend, the nearby church I had visited when I was at my lowest... I could go on for days.

But instead of making me happy, these memories just made me sad. I spent the rest of the day mulling over why sadness was my first reaction, and I still haven't quite figured it out.



What struck me was the familiar feeling of the weather. When I surfaced from the metro that very first early-autumn day in Paris, the skies were clear and blue, with some happy clouds, the sun was warm, but there was a slight chill in the air. And when I returned, a year and a half later, on a beautiful spring day, it felt so similar. How can everything look and feel the same, yet you've changed so much?

I started wondering who lives in my apartment now. Are they also a student, do they love it as much as I did, what place in the world did they travel from to arrive here in Paris? Do the people I walked past everyday still live in this neighbourhood? And even more than that - did my presence in this minuscule corner of the universe make any impression? Does a part of me still linger here?

I thought about my hometown, how even though I love the desert landscape and spending time with my family in our cozy house, I always end up feeling a little melancholy whenever I return. It's like the puzzle piece (me) doesn't quite fit comfortably anymore, and even though I am somewhat bothered by the awkwardness, there's nothing I can do to change that.

My mind then began to wander; what makes ME who I am? Is it the collective experiences, people, and places I've encountered? The spaces I've inhabited? The things I eat, the conversations I've had, the relationships and heartbreaks I've endured?

I don't think I'll ever come to discover a final version of myself - I truly feel like being human, by definition, is a constant transformational experience. Although I've always sought change in my life, never wanting to become boring or stagnant, I sure do have a hard time coping with the passage of good times.

Maybe the memories of my old Parisian apartment make me sad because I associate that time of my life with a better version of myself - a version with more passion and actual goals. Maybe I'm glorifying the past, and maybe I need to stop doing that.


“Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final”
― Rainer Maria Rilke


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Why being 23 is the worst

BuzzFeed was right - 23 IS the worst year of your 20s. We all know it because we hear it all the time - life after college is tough. It's the great unknown, the first real step into making your own life. Yes, leaving home for college at the fresh young age of 18 is a major step, but in many ways, your activities for the next four to five years are largely determined by parents and degree programs. It's after college, though, when stepping stones become nonexistent, and there isn't any clear goal in sight.

Maybe if you chose nursing or some other pragmatic major, things make a little more sense for you, and finding a job just happens naturally. But for those of us who choose majors in the liberal arts, the path seems much more obscured.

Number one question people ask me when I tell them that I graduated in Art History (with a minor in French) is: "what are you going to do with that?" My typical response is to first shrug my shoulders and then utter, noncommittally, "something in the arts…?" Then, If I have the energy, I'll explain that most museum curators, art dealers, and university professors have their PhD, and at the very least a Master's degree. What use would they have for an undergrad who didn't even bother with finding internships, fellowships, or volunteer work during her entire 5.5 years of college education? I was given fantastic tools in looking at, writing about, and understanding art, but almost zero knowledge of practical applications in the field (And this is less a fault of the school I went to and more the reality of the educational system and the art industry).

But looking at the big picture, I really have no interest in being a curator, dealer, or professor anyway; I would much rather be a contributor or artistic director to a small fashion or art magazine. The problem is: Where does one find these jobs? I have no idea. Better yet, I'd love to be a freelance writer/photographer/blogger/traveler, being my own boss and using cute cafes as my office... but how on earth does one achieve this dream? *huge incredulous shrug!!*
Aside from drawing blanks and drooling from confusion when you start thinking about the job hunt, life in your mid-twenties is also hard because your identity is changing, and you're not sure where it's going to end up. You can no longer describe yourself a "student," or "child," so what are you? You might be moving cities, which means you won't know how to orient yourself in a neighborhood or community for another year or so; you might be moving back home, where you definitely feel awkwardly misplaced, like you don't belong anymore; or you might be entering a new commitment or relationship, and you're not sure how that will affect you.

{Living room sofa at my Gramma's house, many fond memories here}
I've always been so protective, attentive, and careful about my identity. I have a fear of not having the agency to define myself, and as a result, commitment and intimacy can be difficult. I feel the constant need to make everything around me an accurate, yet somewhat fabricated, representation of who I choose to be. I believe that identity is self-contructed, and I have a very clear vision of who I want to be. The problem is, when situations in life threaten to throw this vision out of balance, I get scared.
Ever since leaving art school in SanFrancisco for a guy when I was 18, I decided that I would never settle in life, regardless of how difficult it would be or how hard I would have to work. Those quotes about taking risks, living life to the fullest, carpe diem-ing - those annoying typography images that inundate Pinteres - are actually true. The bigger the challenge, the bigger the reward.


PS: If you are the creator of any of the Pinterest images I used in this post, please let me know, so I can give you proper credit!

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On self identity

After making a rash decision to skip my entire day of classes, watching this video on what it's really like to move abroad, and hiding like a scared hedgehog under my comforter all day with Bath & Body Works holiday candles filling my room with nostalgia, I've realized something.


You can't expect the future to fix you. Moving to Versailles is not going to magically solve my issues with laziness, my fear of putting myself out there, or my frequent lack of passion.

Living in France seems extremely romantic, but it's really no different than living anywhere else. Wonky old buildings, cobblestones making walking a balancing act, and fresh bread everyday would make anybody's life seem full of charm and inspiration... For a while. Especially when compared to boxy American suburbs and road rage and oversized portions at restaurants.

Certainly, a change in scenery will do me a lot of good, not to mention the presence of a certain Swedish lad* in my everyday, physical life; but I must remember that I cannot DEPEND on the romanticized visions of these things for instant happiness. Happiness must be grounded in reality and close to loved ones, happiness is being adventurous, and feeling proud of oneself. Happiness is a series of choices and it's in my grasp.



*Erik and I have been in a long distance relationship since January, after having met in Paris during my studies abroad.


Find me on Instagram at FrenchCalifornian