I'm moving in a month!

I can't wrap my head around this... I'm literally moving away, forever, from this god aweful land of heat and rain and sweat (I'm angry with the Texas heat at the moment as I have no air conditioning)! It's unbelievable. I'm not going to study and then return, not going to visit, but going to live abroad...crazy!

I've been thinking about this as of late (mainly because everyone keeps asking me silly questions like "why would you want to live in Europe? What if you don't like it? What makes you think it's great?"). I've always wanted to live abroad. As early as middle school I was planning my escape to Europe thinking maybe I could convince my parents to let me switch places with an European student for a semester, or, maybe I could just go and take language courses. When I graduated high school I thought about being an au pair. In college I worked hard on learning French with dreams of transfering to a French university somewhere (I grossly underestimated 1) the difficulty in mastering pronunciation 2) how high of a level was required to get in, something I would have never attained without studying abroad first). Luckily, I finally did get to France, not for as long as I wanted, but I made it and gained so much from the experience ( a boyfriend, a much better level of French, confidence and love in/for myself). People sure don't lie about studying abroad being an invaluable experience.

Now, I'm off again, in a month, to make Edinburgh my home (at least for a year). Then maybe London, then Spain, then then then! Who knows where I'll end up, but hopefully not back in Texas (no offense to Texans, it's just not the place I want to be)!

On a more beautiful, but kind of sad note, here's a lovely poem by my favorite Surrealist poet Mallarme.

Apparition

La lune s'attristait. Des séraphins en pleurs
Rêvant, l'archet aux doigts, dans le calme des fleurs
Vaporeuses, tiraient de mourantes violes
De blancs sanglots glissant sur l'azur des corolles.
C'était le jour béni de ton premier baiser.
Ma songerie aimant à me martyriser
s'enivrait savamment du parfum de tristesse
Que même sans regret et sans déboire laisse
La cueillaison d'un Rêve au coeur qui l'a cueilli.
J'errais donc, l'oeil rivé sur le pavé vieilli
Quand avec du soleil aux cheveux, dans la rue
Et dans le soir, tu m'es en riant apparue
Et j'ai cru voir la fée au chapeau de clarté
Qui jadis sur mes beaux sommeils d'enfant gâté
Passait, laissant toujours de ses mains mal fermées
Neiger de blancs bouquets d'étoiles parfumées.