It's okay to be predictable if you do it in Paris.


What I hope is that this blog will tell the tale of a journey.  What’s more likely is that this blog will be a bunch of lame posts about things people have already done, and feelings everyone has already experienced, all written in my less than skilled narrative voice and featuring my bad photography.  But like Abba says, take a chance on me, okay?

A brief backstory (and after this explanatory post, I’ll try to keep the emotional crap out of it):  I got laid off from my job, and therefore was forced to give up my apartment, and while contemplating moving in with my boyfriend, I instead discovered he was cheating on me.  Sad, right?  Also, the day after that, a cockroach crawled up my leg at brunch.  True story.  So I decided to take my severance check, book a plane ticket to Paris, sublet an apartment there for a month, and then move home to my parents’ house in Ohio to figure out my next move.  I’m pretty sure my life is just copying a bad romantic comedy, but if I end up with a zany new best friend and the whole thing ends with a charming wedding, I won’t be mad about it.

Besides deciding to take a trip to Paris, alone, to “find myself”, here are some other totally cliched things I have done over the course of this experience:

  • Cried on the subway
  • Ate nothing but ice cream for three days.
  • Called my mother crying.
  • Cried on a park bench.
  • Lost 5 pounds, then gained it back.
  • Cut my hair and dyed it. Twice.
  • Called my sister crying.
  • Got drunk and texted my ex.  
  • Listened to a rotating mix of Adele, Taylor Swift, Kelly Clarkson, and Beyonce.
  • Did I mention I cried in public an embarrassing amount of times?

Also, I really did read Eat Pray Love, and now, I am writing what is probably the one millionth rip-off of it, like, 8 years after it was relevant.  But I’m pretty funny, so stick with me, Blogience (Get it? Like audience, but with a blog?  See what I did there?  Shut up.)  I will try to deliver witty observations, recaps of my adventures in tourism and eating my feelings, and maybe the occasional outfit post.  I can’t promise it will be original, but neither was The Hangover 2, and that piece of garbage apparently made $581,464,305.

2 years ago