Applying for exchange to France - CROSS MY FINGERS
My whole life, I have been waiting for this... well, not really.
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I just submitted my applications for student exchange to France; I am so so so excited. I mean I haven't even heard back from them and who knows what the results would be but anyhow this gives me something to dream about in the dreary setting of NUS.
I guess this is the power of dreams. I can now look at the Utown green and picture myself picnicking in Jardin de Luxembourg with a baguette and a bottle of Arizona green tea. I can now look at my teh bing and the chairs and tables in Koufu and imagine that I were in Paris, sipping iced The au Lait and boggling at cute French boys -but of course I will never hit on them or anything.
I can almost feel it now. The feeling of post-christmas sales and buying Longchamps for my mom and her friends. The feeling of freedom as I get drunk on Bordeaux wine and parading around naked in my teeny tiny Parisian flat. Maybe I can even get a cat.
I can finally wear low cut shirts without people judging me; I can even do away with the bra because it's more French that way (just don't tell my bf). Ahhhhh.... PARIS PARIS je t'aime!
Oh... and my friends can now visit me and we can do all sorts of crazy shit together. You see, you get judged for just about anything in Singapore but not in France! We can go on Feminist protests and night outs in doubtful pubs.
---
Okay, now I need to go prepare for my mid-terms.
---
I just submitted my applications for student exchange to France; I am so so so excited. I mean I haven't even heard back from them and who knows what the results would be but anyhow this gives me something to dream about in the dreary setting of NUS.
I guess this is the power of dreams. I can now look at the Utown green and picture myself picnicking in Jardin de Luxembourg with a baguette and a bottle of Arizona green tea. I can now look at my teh bing and the chairs and tables in Koufu and imagine that I were in Paris, sipping iced The au Lait and boggling at cute French boys -but of course I will never hit on them or anything.
I can almost feel it now. The feeling of post-christmas sales and buying Longchamps for my mom and her friends. The feeling of freedom as I get drunk on Bordeaux wine and parading around naked in my teeny tiny Parisian flat. Maybe I can even get a cat.
I can finally wear low cut shirts without people judging me; I can even do away with the bra because it's more French that way (just don't tell my bf). Ahhhhh.... PARIS PARIS je t'aime!
Oh... and my friends can now visit me and we can do all sorts of crazy shit together. You see, you get judged for just about anything in Singapore but not in France! We can go on Feminist protests and night outs in doubtful pubs.
---
Okay, now I need to go prepare for my mid-terms.
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