Let's have a little chat with 7th grade Kira, shall we?
My 7th grade self was off tra-la-la-ing downtown with my best friend and mother, when my mother stopped on the sidewalk, pointed to a group of teenagers, and said the three greatest words ever uttered: "they're speaking French!" The only way that sentence could possibly be any better is if she added "and they're giving away free ice cream and want to marry you and ship you off to France."
And so, like any sane person, I followed them. Across the street. And nearly got hit by a car. True story.
And so, you can probably imagine what ensued when, six years later, my father got invited to Lyon for a conference.
That's a lot of cheese-wrapping hours.
When I first heard the news, I was convinced that it was a sign that I had to hop a plane to Lyon that fall, or my life would be totally worthless. You know that feeling when you're all "I'm so happy for you!" but secretly you're going "WHY, WORLD, WHY?" Not so endearing when you're supposed to be all mature and selfless and shit.
Well. Long story short, I calculated how many months of starvation I'd have to endure to even think about this trip. And...low and behold, I had another shower epiphany. Yes, this France invitation was a sign. But it wasn't like I was getting a phone call from the Eiffel Tower itself saying "hey. Hey. Why aren't you here yet? You were supposed to arrive an hour ago! Stupid American." It was more like a nudge to remind me how much the dream to visit France on my own, for an extended period of time, mattered to me. Like, I could save that thousand dollars for a plane ticket that allowed me to, at times, be lost and confused, but to have a trip that was mine, all mine! *Cue evil laugh here.*
I know, it's fun to be impulsive in your 20's. But my impulses probably shouldn't blow my entire savings. I'll save that for eating some cake and having wild nights playing Apples to Apples. Maybe Cards Against Humanity if I'm feeling particularly badass.
Namaste.
Card Against Humanity :3
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