Day 56: Everyone Deserves Tea

Listening to: "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air Theme Song" by Will Smith

I was marking some interesting Metro stop names. For instance, here are some legitimately named stops on the Paris Metro lines:

• Bel-Air
• Javel (only funny because I think "Javert' every time)
• Place des Fêtes (basically translates to "Party Central"; I'm a creative translator)
• Porte d'Orléans (hmm, when is Mardi Gras again?)
• Pyramides (hopefully there exists no one in Paris who thinks these will lead to the actual Pyramids of Giza)
• Robespierre (leader of guillotining people who ended up guillotined himself; I guess the city planners thought this was the best way to make up for him losing his head)
• Rome (the Metro gives us false expectations with its stops)
• Stalingrad (wait, what?)
• Télégraphe (I like telegraphs as much as the next person, but a Metro stop?)
• Victor Hugo (except it's nowhere near his house)
• Voltaire (well, I don't know where Voltaire lived, so we'll give them the benefit of the doubt here)

And, to be pedantic, here are the strange names that are RER stops:

• Avenue du Président Kennedy (why? I thought it was Jackie O who the Parisians were fascinated with)
• Pantin / Ella Fitzgerald (if Ella Fitzgerald is so awesome--which I'm not arguing--why does she have to share her Metro stop title with another name/thing? That seems unfair)

As you can tell, I get bored when the Metro stops sometimes.

But what else can I say? My week has returned to its boring, uncomplicated state. And even though powering through an essay can suck, it gives me an incredible sense of pride afterward. 

Then that pride immediately dissipates when you discovered that you can print your damn papers in the AUP computer lab. 

I've also had the horrible realization that my new affinity for GIFs might mean I'm turning into a BuzzFeed and Tumblr person. Nooooooo.

But that's still not stopping me!

Tea has really helped me through these past weeks. I know others would suggest something a bit stronger (and probably illegal), but I'm happy with my tea.

So I continue to stumble through my French, alternate between mumbling and shouting my answers in Shakespeare class--

Wait, I forgot! We read Dad's favorite sonnet in class the other day. Then it was followed by a sonnet that killed all the lovey metaphors about love outlasting time and space. Ah, well. Shakespeare was a complicated man. Plus, as much as my father would hate to admit it, the world is not full of Mr. Darcys or Colonel Brandons. :( Sad.

Tomorrow, I'm seeing Singin' in the Rain at the Théâtre du Châtelet. I'm hoping that if the title is in English, maybe the show will be? Can't get my hopes up too high. The least I can hope for is subtitles. I did enjoy Midsummer, but the only words I was able to make out were "mon amour" and all the characters' names--which sound very different with French accents. And I'll be near Notre Dame and Shakespeare & Co., so really, I'm just excited by the prospect of seeing Kitty. 

Oh, Kitty. 

I've probably mentioned this before, but he has a Fan Page in China. Not kidding. I should look it up. And the lady in the store said he was quite obese, so I had to plaster on a fake smile, as I'm sure she would have some choice words to say about our cat.

This is a sign under the floor at Shakespeare & Co. It says "Feed the Writers." Damn right you should! I'm a writer! Feed me!

Here's good ole Ernest Hemingway with the real Snowball. He had six toes, and thus six-toed cats are sometimes called "Hemingway cats." He (Snowball, not Hemingway) has many descendants who continue to live on Hemingway's grounds in Key West.

I'm quite aware that "hurling" means something different across the pond, but I'm not sure this is a great name for a pub, given the other kind of hurling that often happens at places like these.

I do not understand Metro lines that split off like this. I mean, I kind of do now. But I'm still slightly afraid.

Oh, speaking of hurling, St. Patrick's Day? That's not a thing here. I mean, it's a thing in Irish pub windows, mostly because they're desperate to get the French wine-drinkers in their joints. Actually, I would love to go out for St. Patrick's Day, given that I'm reading a book by an Irish expat. And speaking of Ulysses, I decided that I need this shirt. I need all the other ones too, but let's just stick with that one for now.

And now that my train of thought it going at full steam, I thought it would be fun to fill out a Book Bracket. I have no hope with the actual basketball ones, after all. In fact, I decide based on two simple flow charts: