finished, fini, finito, f grad school

Did anyone else want to cry pounds of saltwater out of their tear ducts when they did the last spell check on the last paper that felt like the last ounce of energy in their body?

Well, there's no time to stop now.

My sister comes to town tomorrow at 8am (I desperately need 1 day to sleep all day!!!). We hug and then run down to my school so I can print the final copy and email the final to the prof. I pay the landlord rent - if he's lucky. We find me my own guide book to Northern Italy. We buy a few needed items since I've had no time to run errands. We drink at least 2 bottles of cheap French wine in celebration of me finishing my first year of grad school without tearing out all of my hair -- although I have noticed I'm shedding more than I ever did before in my life. We cruise the Venice Marco Polo rental car agencies online, pick one (she's such a smart girl and got the international driving license before she left the US - me? I was thinking I could just walk in and show them my badass driving skills.... seriously, I was neck-deep in the Fed).

Then, Tuesday we hop an Easy Jet to Venice, get a car and head for the west. It's so unplanned right now and I'm not freaking out at all about that. In fact, I could care less what happens to us over there. If we could just find a little room in a little town with a bunch of good olives and good wine and cute Italian people, I'll be happy. I'm revisiting college days and only packing a small bag. I am hoping for a Sofia Loren moment in a sundress and handbag overlooking some nice windy, tiny town where small boys chase balls in the street and the men lean out windows to whistle. .. Or, again, just a room and some wine.

I totally think I bombed the last two papers I wrote and frankly, senioritis has me so bad right now that I can't care too badly. But then I remember my high standards of late and think maybe it's not so bad. And that really each paper I write could turn into a PhD if given enough time. I reviewed my Ethiopia-Eritrea paper with the prof, which almost sent me into fits. He highlighted like every other line and was really way too interested in my paper than I thought it warranted. He asked for a few clarifications that made me panic. I mean, frankly, I write a paper, turn it in and forget it just to move on to the next thing. How am I supposed to remember what I meant by the negotiations already being biased based on the fact that the Ethiopians were requested to move back to their territory prior to the 1987 conflict? (Hmmm I guess I do remember - it meant that the unmarked border was in essence falling to the benefit of the Ethiopians as the border wasn't theirs to determine necessarily. Having international orgs determine this line inflamed Eritrea and cast a shadow of favoritism over the whole negotiation. ... hmm.. Yeah, I did love that paper.)

Anyway. Other than that paper, I'm clueless on any grades and I don't care. Grad school isn't really about grades. It's more about effort and comprehension. And I like that. And I also like that it's over for now.

So, sister and I and Italy. Venice, Florence, Cinque Terre, Venice, back to Paris. We'll have a half-day here and then the graduation of the 2nd years - my last real time to see them and see a bunch of my own cohorts. So bizarre the ending to this year. There wasn't a single event of closure at all. No big bang. No big fiesta or fete or frankenweiner. All of a sudden, we were all in a panic to finish papers in the last 3 weeks and then people just kind of peeled off. I happened to be there at the time when one of my friends was leaving to go finish packing to return to Canada the next day and then go off to LSE or Columbia for the next year. Kind of suffering separation anxiety, and kind of totally excited to know I have some amazing friends all over the world again.

Bittersweet this.

On another front, I'm kind of seeing someone. Man, I haven't even told my in-person friends about this really. But I guess I can tell the whole anonymous world (I'm pretending my family doesn't read this right now). He's French, and kind of very French. He's a bit more romantic than my pragmatic American senses, but there's mutual respect for these differences. Last night he had me over for an apertif to meet a ton of his friends and then to this super kickass monthly event at Telebocal. An independent TV/film production group. It seemed very punk rock, DIY, hippie, original. The gist is that they film events, do on-street interviews and then have a showing of their work monthly. A lot of interns from local universities and young people. I laughed so hard - and actually laughed at the right places and actually understood a lot of the low-brow humor. Got to meet more new French friends. And then got to dance my booty off! The end band was this amazing alternative, mod, punk rock precussion ensemble with a room full of drum sets and musicians in sunglasses playing plastic kid's toys. It was fantastic. So, yes, while I'm moaning about the work load, I am getting out and enjoying the sunlight and night events.

So, one of the interesting things about last night was the amount of times I got up from the couch. Right, sounds like nothing unusual. But literally, every person who comes in greets every person already there. So, every time someone arrived we'd get up from the deep-seated couch and kiss right-left cheek and sneak in our name as intro and then "enchante," which I love because it's so fairy-tale. But, man, what a ritual. I remember Argentina having the right-cheek kiss at intros, but did they have it at departures? And was it so formal that at a party everyone would get up and do the rounds? And who invented cheek-kissing anyway? And who determines how many in which country? Santa? The Queen?

Yes. Well. So there's Paris, then Italy, then Paris for about a week during which I scrub and pack and lock-down and prepare for the Brit subletters and take off to Geneva. Then, there's like, dude, real working. Or, fake real working - I think the motto will be make the most of it and make your own adventure. I don't think I'll be fetching coffee, but since all the interns were in relaxed gear, I'm doubtful I'll be entrusted with the secret documents about the new statistics out from Russia on the growth of their economy. (Not that that's a secret anyway.) I know the point is more to network and meet other interesting people at other interesting organizations in hopes of making some lasting impression so I get a job in the future and pay off my family loans and the Chinese.

But yes, as AA says, one day at a time. And for now, it's 3 minutes into the day my sister arrives and I should go get some sleep. Yeah.. in college when I finished a year it was all about the party, now it's grad school and all about the sleep. Heh.

Bisous.