It is 11:45 am and I am sitting in la bibliotheque with a very familiar feeling filling mon corps: intense fatigue, the sensetaion of heavy eyelids, the feeling of worn-around the edges which no amount of coffee before noon can break through. Mixed into that tiredness is an intense desire, roaring on the insides to fulfill the image I have wanted to live for so long but which seems so impossible: to be that invincible person who needs barely any sleep, who bites into the ripe peach of life to drag the juices from the very core, the nightwanderer the city dweller who lives in motion with la ville.
It doesn't help that last night I did not hit the sack until 1:30 am, which is relatively late for me. It was for a good reason, nonetheless, as along with many of my peers, I enjoyed le spectacle des feux d'artifice. But I am anything but happy at my habitudes. This is supposed to be a year sans cesse! I wish I could retain that fresh energy that one might feel on a Saturday morning after arising at 13 or 14 heures apres midi, jump to the day, have that bottled sensation of ripe zest fill me and satisfy me for atleast 18 hours apres.
Before I came to Paris, I had imagined some vivid image every time I closed my eyes before sleeping in the lackluster state of CT, of myself with champagne in hand, with glittering eyelids, clad in red gown flowing over sharp black tallons. Now in retrospect, it was pur follie, a glamorous dream that I had contrived during those moments when there are no limits to the imagination, and no place one cannot reach. But where exactly was I supposed to go? And what exactly was I thinking? On the questionnaire Rob gave us for living habits and roommates, there was a question which I answered without hesitation, my answer derived from my niave desire to be that vivacious 24-7 animal I had so imagined. The question was: "How often do you imagine yourself going out duting the week?" To that came a ready "oh, three times at least-- in the beginning. Every night once I'm accustomed."
Which may be the reason why I was placed in a family with a very darling middle-aged women who lets me and ma chere Alexis come and go when we please as often as we please. But that "accustomed" point has yet to come. I'm barely just beginning to be in the beginning (that three night a week period).
So, my fellow Smithies, seemingly tireless early birds or night owls, I have a question for you. What is your sollution? Do you feel the same way as me? Dissappointed in yourself that you are not yet that Lady in Red you had imagined yourself to be?
Last night riding home on the RER at just after midnight, we passed the Eiffel Tower and saw it glittering in distance, bright against the horizon. I sighed and thought not for the first time...if only I could be there-- limitlessly bright, glittering with intention to conquer the world of stars in a seemingly endless universe of vivacite....