If any of them were looking, an entire lecture hall full of Sorbonne students got a nice flash of lacy stocking tops when I got up to leave the exam. Silly Caroline sat in the middle of the front row, on general instinct because, Type A that I am, that's where I always sit. I hadn't considered the fact that I wouldn't be able to easily get out at the end; we were all seated at long, connected desktops, and I couldn't very well ask a bunch of frantic test-takers to let me out. So I hopped up on the desk and slid across. Next time I'm taking exams at the Sorbonne, I'll remember to wear something other than a short skirt.
Which reminds me: I dreamt last night that Theda and I had a conversation about lingerie.
Really, though, the moral of the story is that I took my exam at the Sorbonne, and it is done, and it was good. The first part, for our CM (big lecture course, taught in English by an Englishman), was required to be done in English. The second part, for our TD (small discussion groups, taught in French), could be in French or English. I didn't want to finish super early (we had two and a half hours) merely because I didn't know the process for leaving, and so I did the second part in French, both as a mental exercise and as a stalling measure. The whole thing went well and now I'm in one of my irritating Caroline-feels-academically-satisfied moods, which really just means that I was whistling Mozart on my way home.
Oh, and I saw Eglal and Janie Vanpée walking out of the Jardins de Luxembourg. Is Janie going to advise the Paris program next year? Is that why she's visiting, or is it just for kicks? That would be fun for her and fun for next year's JYA kids, if she were the next advisor, but if I want to ask her to advise my thesis (which I might), that would be not-so-fun for me. Of course I have a back-up, since I still haven't decided what language it'll be in, but I like Janie a whole lot and I'll be sad if she's not on campus. That said, I think I freaked them out a little with my gratuitous beaming and waving. They can thus be added to the list of those surprised by the above-mentioned mood.
Which reminds me, part deux:
- No matter what night preceded it, she had never known a morning when she did not feel the rise of a quiet excitement that became a tightening energy in her body and a hunger for action in her mind–because this was the beginning of a day and it was a day of her life.
–Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged, p. 515
I've been sporadically re-reading and I came across that passage this morning. That is pretty much how I feel every morning of my life, although usually my version just gets referred to as "prancing."
It is also how I've been feeling about the advent of spring. This whole only-one-exam-remaining-in-the-first-semester business means that in two weeks' time it will be the second semester, which means that it will be the spring semester, which means it will be spring. I am a springtime baby and all my love for New England and October and sweaters cannot end the fact that every year I start unbuttoning my coat when it gets above 40 degrees in January, and I stop wearing gloves, and I start thinking about sundresses as if by mere willpower (and wardrobe) I can hasten the change of seasons.
Yes, Grasshopper. Time for that dance party.