My dear blog, I have wanted to write in you for oh so many days, but was not allowed to. The reasoning behind this self-imposed censorship may have something to do with trying to finish a research paper so that I could finally graduate (a year late). I am happy to say that IT IS DONE!!! I hope I am considered worthy to receive that really expensive piece of paper… I even missed Brazilian Carnaval for you, silly degree, you better happen!

I AM FREE!!! It just feels so good. I can’t even describe the weight that is gone from my mind.

Unfortunately I’ve now forgotten all those exciting things I had to write about, because I filled my head a little too full of hepatitis facts (I know, exciting, right?). Oh, well, I’ll come up with something.

LOVE.

Anyway, as my caffeine, sugar, and sleep depo levels are currently spiking somewhere past the red zone, I have decided that no actual work is likely going to be completed for the rest of the day, which thus, leaves me free to commence on a rambling adventure.

First off- I wrote a list of about 50,000,000 things that I’d rather be writing about while writing the one thing I had be writing. They involved crazy things that happened to me through my study haze of the last few weeks, vague story outlines, rants about how the monster on my shoulder (ADHD) thought he was going to get the better of me (stupid monster, I almost always win in the end), and bits and pieces of scripts I foolishly thought might someday actually be performed. I scribbled these notes and imaginings in the margins of so many mind-numbingly scientific papers, and next to all my pages of equally mind-numbingly scientific commentary, that I don’t have the heart to go back and sort through the pile. And of course, between the cups of coffee, the random interludes of singing off-key to various Broadway hits, getting too little sleep, sugar breaks, and staring at every shiny object in my room in order to take me off the task at hand, I’ve forgotten most of what I wanted to say. Typical.

I’ll come up with something.

For instance, my Mother’s Day skype session got interrupted last night due to some really loud noises that sounded suspiciously like gunshots. Now, I was in my bedroom, where the only window faces the courtyard. That nobody really goes into. And it would’ve been A LOT of gunshots. Basically I wasn’t convinced. So I decided to ignore it. But then it got so loud and insistent I couldn’t carry on a conversation, so of course I got off the phone and  went out to investigate- in my baggy red-patterned sleepy clothes (I know classy, and sexy. That’s me). As most of you know, I live right on Lac Léman (the big lake I take photos of), pretty much opposite one of the tallest fountains in the world (not kidding, it sprays up about 140 metres in the air- um…I’m a nerd and looked it up on wikipedia…),  and right above the Jet d’eau was an enormous fireworks display. Like New Year’s big. Like Hollywood big. Like something earth-shatteringly amazing has just taken place and the world must celebrate big. The mysterious creators of said display were also blasting something that suspiciously sounded like Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance.’ Mostly amazing/brilliant/hillarious. So, of course, even though it was raining and cold outside and there was no one really around to appreciate this spectacle, which was also taking place at like half past ten at night, I decided to stand around in the rain to bear witness to the fabulousness (and thus continuing to master the art of justifiable procrastination. I did say earth-shatteringly amazing, right?). Anyway, while successfully getting drenched in the clothes I was hoping to crawl into bed with later, I met a couple who apparently lived next door, and who were standing around in the rain for the same reasons (I’m assuming). They were very nice and from New York. Our initial conversation went much like this:

Me: Hey, do you know what these fireworks are about?

Them: No, we were wondering the same thing. It’s probably for a wedding though.

Me: (dubiously) A wedding? Isnt’ that a bit… um… much?

Them: Oh no, such things are quite common here, people are extravagant in this country.

Me: (thinking to myself about how much it must cost, not to set off the firworks on the lake, but to convince the noise ordinance people that something above a whispered hush could actually occur in this city. At night. On a Sunday.) Oh.

Them: (getting more enthusiastic) You know, it might be a wedding, but it’s probably for an engagement. Or someone’s birthday… Yeah, that’s probably it. A birthday! It’s very common here (I nodded in what I hoped was an understanding and agreeable sort of way. I mean, what kind of person would want that?!? I can think of better ways to spend money on me…. It might involve me flying in a balloon around the world. Just saying.)

***Contemplative pause while I thought about running out on the jetty to the jet d’eau so I could see the fireworks up close. I’ve never been close to fireworks before. It seemed like a good idea. I was mostly trying to decide if the hearing loss would be worth it. I was assuming it would be… I don’t know what they were thinking. I was about to make a run for it when-***

Them: (nonchalantly) Or maybe, someone just wanted to announce that they got laid.

Me: (laughing [after a surprised, yet appreciable, pause]) That’s hilarious! Good for them! I’m hoping someone got laid. Voting for that one. Yes. (I often stop speaking in full sentences when sleep deprived, which come to think of it, is most of the time)

Them: Yeah (male half of couple waving his arms enthusiastically), hey everybody, my son got laid! (I started imagining a world in which this happened)

Sadly- After I had fully armed and prepared myself to tell everyone the story about how people in Switzerland commemorate their first sexual encounter with fireworks on the lake, some randommers came by and told us that the fireworks were actually because Portugal won the match that gained them entry into the World Cup.

Yes. Portugal.

Yes, I live in Switzerland.

It doesn’t have to make a lot of sense. Nope. Not much here does…

Annnywayyy…

It was slightly disappointing to learn the truth (as the truth often is). I’ve now reconstructed events in my mind, in which a son of one of the many Middle Eastern royal families that spend so much money time here, throw an enormous party because their son has been officially de-virginised. Imagine what the party would be like! It sounds fa-bulous! Okay, so yes, I realise that such things do not happen (ye who get offended too easily), but as they often fall into the ‘top extravagant category’ in my pauper-like view of this city (a hard category to gain entry into, let me tell you), it mostly made sense. Remember- reconstructed events in my mind. Anyway, I am a lot happier with it, and that is all that really matters.

So yes- last night I watched probably the longest fireworks display I’ve ever seen. In the rain. In sleepy clothes. All because some kid got laid. Good for him.