While planning this trip, I thought of checking to see whether there were any performances taking place at the Paris opera house, the Palais Garnier, while I was there. I'd never been and I wanted to see Marc Chagall's mural on the ceiling and the world-famous architecture, among other things. There was a performance by the Paris School of Dance (École de Danse) and I got tickets as a birthday last-hurrah grand finale at the end of my trip.

The opera house is magnificent and it was so thrilling to attend an event, seeing all the ballet-goers dressed to the nines and many young girls in tulle-skirted dresses.

scenes from La flute enchantée, Tristan et Isolde, and more

Scenes from Giselle and Lac des Cygnes <3

I love the opera house rendered in red in the photos above and below. Chagall's mural featured several such Parisian landmarks; in the green below, you can see the Arc du Triomphe and Place de la concorde.

Chagall's beautiful commission was amazing to see in real life. Before the performance started and during the intermission, I just leaned back in my orchestra seat and gazed at this marvel. There is so much detail and the colors are so rich and beautiful. The ballet performance, likewise, was wonderful. As it was a spectacle featuring the dance school, there was a variety of styles and types of pieces performed. It was so lovely. I love ballet, but don't know as much about it as other forms of music and theater, so every opportunity to see and learn more is an exciting prospect to me. This was such a wonderful way to end my birthday trip and I'd highly recommend to friends to look at what performances are playing. Often, younger theater-goers are able to score inexpensive tickets. It's a wonderful opportunity that just requires a little Google-ing to research and bring to fruition.

in love with this tile floor

P.S. Something i love—Opéra national de Paris on Google Arts

P.P.S. It is v cool that you can explore the lake under the opera house. I didn't know very much about the lake but its history is fascinating!!!

P.P.P.S. Really in love with this Wagner piece at the moment—Tristan und Isolde Liebestod

I have so many things on my mind but lately my words to relay them feel inadequate—I'm tired in every sense of the word. This is partly due to the slog of everyday life, partly due to cold winter weather (which always makes me feel more withdrawn and reclusive, and is back again, albeit briefly), partly due to an underlying feeling that my wings are clipped, when all I want to do is soar and take the calculated risk. I feel tethered by responsibility—I get a whiff of a different future, but I cut myself short with thoughts of 401(k)s and health insurance and balking at astronomical rent figures. Two parts of my nature—the idealist and the realist—are at odds and that's a balance I don't quite know how to tackle.

That's not to say I'm dissatisfied with my life and where it has taken me—no, I feel that I've done okay for myself, all things considered. I am a tax-paying, gainfully employed, NPR-listening, (somewhat) well-rounded adult. And it's been quite a year—I started a new job, started a new calling (Relief Society President in my Latter-day Saint congregation of young adults), logged a lot of miles (South Dakota, Michigan, New York, Morocco, home, California, British Columbia), read a lot of books, hiked a lot of mountains. I've made and continued dear friendships, learned interesting concepts, found my voice and asserted it more often, and experienced some of the very things that make life so dear.

Rather, I have felt for a while that I've sacrificed one part of myself for another in the decisions I've made. Last year at about this time, I started at my current job, when only a few weeks before, I'd been seriously considering (and taking the required steps toward) making a move to Paris to work as an au pair; certainly a step down on the career ladder, but a path towards some of the other goals and dreams I've had in my life.

I don't regret my decisions, but it has been cathartic for me to recognize the opportunity cost of my choices. I'm reminded of the cyclical nature of life; seasons come and go, and so, too, will these with others brighter and better to follow. One of my favorite children's books is "Frederick," written and illustrated by Leo Lionni. In this story, Frederick the mouse collects stores of sunshine, colors, and warmth, while the other mice stockpile food for the coming winter, scoffing at his quiet, metaphysical preparations. I feel a kinship with Frederick as I find myself in a quieter period of life in which my everyday existence seems static, simply preparation for the future. As I feel stuck in the limbo that is the decade of my twenties, this story is the best sort of reminder.

There's something my mom always says, quoting a family friend: "Life doesn't get easier, it's just a different kind of hard." When I was in high school, this was an interesting and valuable perspective to consider. Over the last several years, this interest has evolved into an underlying sense of panic as I have come into my own in adulthood. A few weeks ago I came across this quote, which I found equally reassuring and horrifying:  

"I have little fear of getting older, but I live in constant dread that an evil genie will make me relive my twenties." –Elizabeth Gilbert

I'm considering this the light at the end of the twenties-tunnel. Twenty-six, let's do this.

Happy birthday!! I wish I was home to watch You've Got Mail tonight for the millionth time and make you a Funfetti cake. Team vines.

Happy birthday Lauren!! You are one of the most considerate and kind people I know. I love your creativity (and photography!), your spunk, and knack for baking. I wish I was home so I could return the favor and make you some Halloween birthday cupcakes. But it's the thought that counts, right?

LOVE YOUUU! Happy birthday, I hope it's great.

I love your silly ways and spot-on impressions, your French expressions (particularly when you sing "Once there was a snowman" in French) and our late-night heart-to-hearts that always seem to take place outside in the cold. I'm glad we're so similar, but I'm thankful for what makes you unique. Thanks for being one of my best friends.

love you sistah.

Happy birthday honey! I am glad that you were born. Thanks for letting us celebrate you tonight by enjoying various forms of reminisces and sugar.

Tanti auguri Lucia! (aka Ashley) (our nonna cannot pronounce "Ashley," so Ashley is the only one of us with an Italian name, Lucia)

You should know that it's equally funny and annoying when people think we are twins.

I'm glad you've become more lax on your word-games-with-the-fam policies.

I admire your creativity; you have such great ideas, always.

And lastly, I aspire to be the kind of friend you are.

Happy Birthday, Lauren! I love you!