BERLIN, BABY!

So, let's talk about the COOLEST part of recent developments:

I.G.T.B.

- or -

*pause for dramatic effect*

I'm Going To Berlin!!!!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHH.

So, a full detailed description? Yes. The conference in Berlin is being held by Americans for Informed Democracy (http://www.aidemocracy.org), which is the cool little place where the Ohio-an Republicans are being tortured and malnourished for their crimes against the state.

I jest.

But they hold two "summits" every year for college students studying in Europe, and have started inviting SYA students to apply, cuz we're cool, and so basically half of my school applied, and I got in, but here's the thing... I'm going. There it is. There's the thing. Five other girls from school are going too, we're all flying together and what not. And they're all really cool and nice and human and I like them all and so AWESOME. And Berlin. And seeing more of Europe. And LEARNING HOW TO FIX AMERICA.

So all that's basically gotten me PUMPED.

I think I'm the luckiest girl alive. If I believed in God, I'd thank him. But since I'm still shaky on that, I'll thank the real people who made this possible. Thank you, you are wonderful, this is amazing. I can't believe it's really happening.

Now, onto other things that require fewer exclamation points.

The cat of the house, Mina, is a very fat, black and white, indoor/outdoor kitty who has sharp claws and does not like to be touched anywhere near her tail. She enjoys sitting on the armchair in front of the fireplace, and becoming blissfully toasty, while staring intently into the flames. The cat has an obsession with this chair, and this ritual. This morning, around 7h30, she was sitting there, watching the people eat their breakfast, waiting for one of them to allume the feu. Sadly enough, she had to wait a few more hours. But this cat is something of a mystery to me. What does she see in this fire? What could possibly draw her so close? Today, Annie moved the hard orange armchair to the oter corner of the room. So Mina curled up on the stone of the fireplace to stare as the embers fizzled out and gave up. Claire said we'd have to drag in a cushion for her, since the chair was MIA. Phillipe said the cushion would catch on fire.

I said nothing, as speaking french is not my strong point.

But the point of the story is that this cat has more appreciation for basic and neccessary convience than I ever had or over will. The cat is happy to be warm, and entertained by dangerous, orange burning. Is it a sign of intelligence that this isn't enough for us? That I can't stare into that big stone hole in the wall for more than thirty seconds without my mind wandering? That I'm afraid of being even half as close as Mina gets on her cooler days?

Sadly, I think it is something along the lines of counter-evolution that has led me away from the fire and into my sweatshirt to keep warm.

We're going back to fur, people.

Completely different topic, I'm reading David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day, and feeling silly for not having known earlier that A) he's homosexual and B) he lived for over a year in Paris with his parner, struggling to learn French. If anyone has read the book, the title anecdote, and a few others that follow it -- "Jesus Shaves" "The Tapeworm Is In" "Make That A Double" -- are EXACTLY what this year is like. He takes a french class while in France with a bunch of other aging foreigners, and I have everyone one of those characters he describes in my class right now. He's a good man, that David Sedaris. I'd like to meet him one day.

Alright, I hope you're as giddy as I am right now.

I miss you all, very very much.

Until Next Time, "There are, I have noticed, two basic types of French spoken by Americans staying in Paris: the Hard Kind and the Easy Kind. The Hard Kind involves the conjugation of wily verbs and the science of placing them alongside various other words in order to form sentences such as "I go him good afternoon," and "He, one, we, it going to later see." The second, less complicated form of French amounts to screaming English at the top of your lungs, much the same way you're shout at a deaf person or a dog you thought you could train to stay off the sofa. Doubt and hesitation are completely unneccessary, as Easy French is rooted in the premise that, if properly packed, the rest of the world could fit within the confines of Reno, Nevada."
-- David Sedaris, "Make That A Double"

COUNTDOWN to return: 196 days