Early May in Paris. Time for students like me to scramble to finish their thesis and shirk their blogging duties. Or their writing duties in general, really. I can't remember the last time I wrote something because I wanted to, rather than because that third part was due, like, a week ago, and I'm only halfway through it, and if I'm made to sit one more day in this library I might snap. Thankfully, my adviser's pretty lax with deadlines (most likely because she's not terribly great at respecting them, either), and has the memory of a sleep-deprived, crack-addicted goldfish. I doubt she even remembers that what I turned in today was originally due about two weeks ago.
On the other hand, early May is perhaps the best time to be living in Paris. It gets progressively warmer just as days start getting significantly longer, so you can spend long evenings with your friends on the banks of the Seine, before walking home at 2 in the morning and managing to get lost in a city you've lived in for the past 25 years (what can I say, I've got a terrible sense of orientation).
Or at least that's the theory. May's been dreadful so far, with today taking the cake as dreariest day of Spring yet. It's cold and gray and rainy, the kind of weather that makes sitting all day in a library trying to write about poor messed-up Billy Parham seem like a great time. Looking out my window, I could easily believe it's November out there (which is somewhat ironic, since I've managed to escape the depressing Parisian Novembers for the past two years). Perhaps all the ash released by that Icelandic volcano (I refuse to even try to type its name for fear my spellchecker will spaz out on me) wasn't content with simply stranding thousands of people in airports for days, but also decided to mess up the weather (when in doubt, blame the Icelanders).
And it looked so promising, too. Late April actually brought us the gorgeous weather that one would expect to find now, even if it lasted for all of a week. But for a week it felt almost like summer was right around the corner--between that and the fact that the library was closed for Spring break, does it come as a surprise to anyone that I didn't get anything done? It's pretty hard to find motivation when you can spend the day out reading in a park, then in the evening sit by the river and watch as countless tourists wave at you from the boats that tirelessly drag them around the Seine all year round, as if you were perhaps part of the show. "On your left, students perpetuating a time-honored Parisian tradition by sitting around doing nothing and getting drunk off of cheap wine." Then perhaps watch the sun set over the water, or move over to a bar and sit outside and, well, continue perpetuating the aforementioned Parisian tradition. Or just walk through the streets and... Well, I think you get it.
But the good news is that summer is right around the corner. It can't keep raining forever, now can it? (For whoever's in charge of the weather: that was a rhetorical question. I swear. There's no need to prove me that it can indeed keep raining forever.) Soon the sun will be back, and I'll be done with my thesis (and as much as I love Cormac McCarthy in general, and The Crossing in particular, that'll be a relief), and then I'll be back to working on my novel and blogging and generally enjoying Paris.
Because I may miss Chicago like crazy, and I may have to resort to reading recaps of Phillies games rather than watch the actual thing, but I still really, really like it here.
P.S.: sorry about the poor quality of the pictures, those were taken with my phone (because having a camera is pretty useless when you keep forgetting to bring it along).