I quit my job at the end of July. I moved to Paris ten days ago. I’m pursuing a masters degree centred around the business of fashion. I feel like I’m in an uneasy truce, both with myself and with this city. So far, I like Paris a lot. I wonder if it will like me back.
Back in the Before Times, a great source of enjoyment was travelling to a new city and exploring its streets in pursuit of the delicious. But the thing that I’ve maintained, as a salve to my own restlessness, is that vacationing is a state of mind, baby! Life is a vacation if you avoid all responsibilities and spend money frivolously and don’t worry about other people’s well-being!
I’m always tired. Being a leech on society is hard work. But after those first few sips of coffee hit the bloodstream, I’m revved up and ready to go. At once, it’s like I’m cruising down Rainbow Road, glittery with star power as the greatest soundtrack of all time propels me forward.
I'm a true desk jockey: a willing corporate drone. I find comfort in the simple satisfactions that punctuate the monotony of adulthood -- like the feeling when you find a new pen, cook your instant noodles al dente, or create the perfect pivot table. So when I say that I needed a trip to remind me of the pleasures that exist beyond my cubicle, I really mean it.
