i've been formulating this post for a while i think

You know what, I will admit that I gladly immerse myself in this blogging world (in fact i'm going to take a little break from writing this to go check a blog where it's been a while, one sec . . . ) And I think most others will admit that for some odd reason (which i will answer at some future date when i'm feeling more notalgic) Paris and the frenchies seem to be a popular topic of fantasy. Everyone glorifies the frenchies and wants to be just like them . . . blah blah blaaaahh.

They do. Go ahead. Come on. Just check any lady's blog, and she will have mentioned Paris/France at least once in some oh-so-glorified-wish-i-was-there-oh-the-frenchies-are-the-best manner. And I've one thing to say: get over it.

I know, I know, I know, listen to me, I'm a spoiled pill, yes, I know . . . but guess what, my blog is included (at least the archives before september 10, 2009.) Yes, yes, I was caught in the over-glorification, but there's something about living in a country for three months (well two and a half thus far, but let's round up shall we?) that pushes the envelope a bit.

If there is one thing that I've learned here though, it's that guess what - there's more to life than being a parisienne! Here's something else I've learned about that batch of frenchies that are being shoved onto a lofty pedestal - they all dress the same, and they all smoke and they are uncanny at their abilities to wear heals on cobblestones. Yup. {okay, marshmallow world just came on my online christmas radio, oh joy.}

Sure all those things are great, like the striped shirts and cutie tennies and matchstick jeans and little berets - and guess what, they're mostly true. But I'm just trying to uphold what I've learned most since coming here, and it's that I'm my own blasted person. I like the frenchies, you got me, but I'm walking in a straight line, and I won't be dragged elsewhere because I'm intimidated or distracted by shiny lights. No siree. So yeah, many these are the bemoanings of a self-conscious dame, but perhaps there's some worth (let there be worth in my ramblings, oh please) regarding who we are and who we want to be. Absolutely, that je ne sais quoi exists, I'll be the first to admit it, but guess what - je sais quoi - let's not overidealize those frenchies, and just plain ol' like ourselves for exactly how we (i) are (am.)

[ps] i shouldn't keep chocolate in my room.