Ninjas in Paris

As I embark on chapter three of the French trilogy that’s been my post-college life, I’m feeling less like a king or a jedi and more like a kindergartener starting her first day of school. Or rather a kindergartener who’s been held back two years but finally stopped wetting herself and can now function in a classroom setting. I guess I thought by the third time going that the attachment issues would go away, but the truth is that it gets harder each time I kiss my America goodbye.

Love Locks Bridge in Paris. 

Leaving home is hard. First you’re stuffing animal crackers in your bum without a care in the world and suddenly you’re expected to sit at a desk and cooperate with others who don’t give a damn that your parents nicknamed you ‘Dali’ for your exceptional finger-painting skills. You’re in the wild now. The things that once brought comfort are no longer accessible, and mommy won’t be there to cheer you up when no one wants to be your friend.

While none of that actually happened (I was very popular in kindergarten), my first two years abroad have made me realize how good I had it back home. Where I used to receive praise for good grades and good hair, I’m now aware of the areas I’m not so strong at, such as speaking other languages or chewing with my mouth closed. Being funny doesn’t count for nothing if the jokes aren’t in French, and even when they are, with such a heavy accent you’re never sure if they’re laughing with or at you (and honestly, French people don’t laugh all that much). Plus, no one knows how to twerk over thurr. And everyone smokes. And they’re all so damn skinny. Gross.

But, but, but… it’s also really not so bad.

Tour Eiffel (in English: Eiffel Tower)

So I’m in the airport now, finishing off deep-dish leftovers and feeling nostalgic and yada yada yada, and there’s this part of me that’s getting kind of pumped to take off again.  That same part that decided to head out 2 years ago, that’s led me to 13 European countries, and will take me running with the bulls in two weeks. THAT part of me is hella ready to start my new adventure in the City of Light.

Oui, oui, this time around I’m doing France the RIGHT way, à la mode, and living the dream life (for everyone other than Sedaris and myself) of working at a hip company in downtown Paris. That’s right, I’m moving to PARIS! It's that one with the tall phallic looking building where Moulin Rouge takes place. And what’s even better is that I’ll be doing what I actually went to college for (cool) and getting paid to do it (even cooler) and it’ll all be in English (wow that’s the coolest)! I’ll be writing story scripts of murder mystery cases for a popular computer game, which is the absolute perfect job for a Japanese girl who studied scriptwriting in the murder capital of America.  

They say that third time's the charm, and I finally believe after two years of language setbacks, relationship hiccups and mad stomach pains from the cheese, that this time around I’m going to do it right... and do it well. Suck it, le France, I’m back.  

Stay tuned. (and come visit!)