Anyone Else Nervous About Paris Reopening Or Are You Normal?

To say I’m nervous about Paris’s partial reopening/un-confining tomorrow May 19, is an oversimplification. I’m extremely excited, pumped, relieved, excited again. I really want to be able to buy some objects in person, look at some arts, or sit at a table when I grab lunch with friends instead of on the ground at a park. But, I’m also nervous.

The New Yorker Made Me Eat French Tacos

The classic French taco from O Tacos

The word “taco” in the name kind of leads one to believe that the tacos are tacos but they’re not tacos. If they were, they would be an abomination. But thanks to a very popular article in the New Yorker, I’ve since had to change my stance, eat my words, and eat a damn French Taco.

The Year That Wasn’t

If it isn’t written down, analyzed, and delivered with a lovely little narrative bow on it, full metaphors and all, did it actually happen? I’ve given up journals before during hard times in an attempt to reject reality, a tactic that both works and doesn’t. On the one hand, there is no written history and reflection to cure the cement of what I decided “was” in that time. On the other, without busily scribbling my little thoughts about events, finding their meaning, inventing meaning often, neatly fitting them into the larger story I have in my head for my life, then I’m left to just live in the moment. No more mining my day for content, or feeling that I’ve got nothing to show for it if I live without documenting.

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Categorized as Thoughts