Can you say impulsive?

I am going to Paris next week.  Am I insane?  Yes.  Can I justify my decision to fly across the Atlantic? No.  Do I have enough money to go?  Technically, I have some savings, but as I am unemployed (with over $10,000 of student loan debt), I really cannot afford the trip.  Then, you ask with your right brow slightly raised, why am I going? Impulse, my dear, pure foolish, reckless impulse.  I am chasing a whim.  I am trying to keep my youthful idealism from getting too far away from me.

Next week, I will be on a plane across the Atlantic (as long as Chicago weather cooporates).  It is a 10 day trip.  I will hardly have enough time to get over my jetlag before I am on the plane heading back towards the USA.  It will probably do more harm than good, but I am going.  Frivolous.  I will meet with a potential employeur and then take a trip to the east of France.  10 days will fly by and then the tears will flow once more and I will be back on this couch blogging about another failed interview.

I am impulsive.  I am going to Paris for a stupid reason.  Everyone tells me I am being stupid.  I know I am being stupid, but people in love often do foolish things.  I cannot give up the chance to return to the city I am in love with.

Paris, je t’aime.