One of those posts I'll probably regret later but that I won't delete because it would be inauthentic . . .

I have a hopeless crush on a fellow classmate. He's not technically a classmate because he's not in my class (thank God, because that wouldn't bode well for my concentration in class) but he goes to the Institut, so I see him every day.

We speak to each other in French. His English isn't the best and I don't know a word of his native language, so French it is. This afternoon we sat alone on the big red couch outside the library and talked about the DELF (we're both taking it), I made copies of his list of connectors and argumentation phrases to help with the oral production section, we talked about learning French, what gives us trouble, our goals, homesickness.

It's absolutely, positively impossible. In my rational mind, I know this. In my rational mind, I wouldn't even want to have anything to do with him. In my rational mind, he is worlds apart from anything possible, desirable, feasible or conceivable.

But (isn't there always?) there it is again. That part of me that's me that I'm having a lot of trouble accepting as me. That annoying sister that you want to leave behind, but you can't because she's blood, and you can't deny her. My sullen sister always manages to reject reason, in spite of its overwhelming weight and power. She hopes in defiance. She mourns what was never lost. And I'm constantly ashamed of her. No matter how many times I plead with her to stay home, to leave me alone, to stop inserting herself between me and my reliance on what makes sense, she will not be denied.

Reason tries to reason by comparing things to my feelings about France. France is nice, but France is temporary. You wouldn't want to live in France forever. You miss home. You're going to continue your life in the US. You like cafe-based socializing, all the pastries and cheese and quiche, but you're not willing to rule out taking road trips in your own car, fried chicken, warm chocolate chip cookies, easily accessible iced white chocolate mochas and Mexican food. You're going to want to take a normal shower again. Not the little European handheld ones.

But, Sister says, he's confident, magnetic. Not over-worried about his success, so it flows his way. Whatever he does in life, she's convinced, he will be successful. Whatever dreams he has, goals he sets, he will attain them. She knows this somehow. And she's disappointed because she knows he lives in a world that's so different from hers, a world that she will never, ever be a part of.

Sister, go back to your little corner, Reason says. You know you wouldn't really want to be a part of his world, just like you wouldn't want to take a European handheld shower for the rest of your life.