Procrasti-blogging.

Hey ho howzit?

Back to me. 

I'm bored. Bored of watching my Macbook rock from side to side on the desk because earlier this week I tripped on the steps on the metro and dropped my backpack and slightly bent it. Bored of listening to the French guy use English phrases to emphasise his emotion whilst playing mine craft in the computer room instead of assignmenting. Bored of this Jim Jones-like cult speaker Stefan Molyeux and his mismatched tie/suit shirt trying to discuss mental illness that I have to watch for a sociology essay due Thursday. Paris is great and then reality sets in.

And then it is diluted again. Diluted by things like Sunday night trips to cheeky French bistros behind the Louvre down a quiet street with good company, good food, and good prices. Monica's birthday was on Monday so whilst she was hibernating after a 2 day trip to Budapest with friends, I picked a restaurant to drag everyone's post-weekend fatigued asses to in order to celebrate on Sunday night. It was just six of us but it was pretty perfect. The boys ordered entrecôte (steak frites) with extra potatoes (MEN!!), and the girls had confit de canard. Not one of us complained - the meat was tender and rich, and the garlic potatoes and salad with dressing perfectly presented. Instead of dessert we cut a cake and embarrassed her with ill-pitched renditions of Happy Birthday and the Aussie favourite "Here's to _______ (s)he's true blue...". We were totally uncool and it was great.

I'm going to miss the greatness of this city once February calls. Such a stupid thing to say, of course ANYONE would. But this year has meant a lot to me - a lot of change, a lot of adventure, a lot of doing things for myself. And to think that next year I will be putting down roots again after drifting along the wind for 11 months. That said, this moveable feast of a city will always be with me.