If you think my time in Paris has been all fun and games then please refer to my blog posts under the heading “LIFE CRISIS” for an honest run down of my fucked up finances, and how I’ve coped with living in the ghetto. And that is only the beginning. Half the shit I’ve been dealing with has never made it to the Internet because of pure embarrassment.
SOME STRUGGLES OF BEING ABROAD THAT NOBODY MENTIONS:
- Instagram timing:
At the risk of sounding superficial and vain I’ve decided to disclose the following: I’d be lying if I said the main reason I wanted to study in Paris wasn’t for the potential Instagram success that would come with it. But capturing the right moments, getting the right captions – (funny, emotional, short and sweet ????) , and working on my damn esthetic have been no walk in the park.
The main source of a lot of my problems has been the time difference between Paris, Toronto, and Calgary. Anyone who’s anyone knows that 7-10pm on weekdays is the key success time for uploads, but when my followers are dispursed between 3 vastly different time zones I’ve been left with no other option that to fuck myself over. Frankly this straight up inconvenience has taught me the virtue of patience, as I’ve learnt to wait throughout the day and let the likes roll in slowly – like an aged wine. (that’s not the right saying but you understand).
I literally forget that I am actually here to go to school, and have to remind myself of it every day. Exchange was literally all fun and games until I had to learn an entire French cost accounting course in day. I’ve learnt a lot during my time abroad but it sure as shit hasn’t been from my classes. All I’ve gained from that dang cost accounting bullshit is that I am a sunk-cost who can’t balance a damn balance sheet to save my life. Literally – my only requirement from my home University was to pass all my courses and even that has been a challenge will my lax AF study schedule.
- You can’t even complain because your life is supposed to be awesome:
The worst part of it all is that I can’t even complain to anyone about the shit that is going on – because I sound like an ungrateful idiot.
Once I called my mom and told her I was bored and as soon as I said it I realized how fucking stupid I sounded. There’s an expectation that everyone one exchange is running around with 100 best friends, getting day drunk, or night drunk (what’s the fucking difference???), seeing all the sights and drinking wine on the fucking Seine 24/7 well let me tell you that has sure as hell not been the case for me. At least not 24/7.
Sure I’ve had my nights of pounding back Chardonnay until I can barely call an UBER to take me home. And days spent picnicking, shopping, or seeing museums with my newfound friends. But what about all the hours in-between? That’s the shit that doesn’t quit make it to my insta feed. Those are the hours I spent desperately trying to fill my time, and contemplating what is wrong with me and why I am sitting in my ghetto ass apartment, instead of spending every waking second surrounded by friends and documenting every second of it to prove to the world that I am in fact having a good time!!! Those are the hours I spend wondering why the extended amount of time spent with friends somehow does not justify or make up or satisfy the few hours I allow myself to spend in solitude.
FOR CRYING OUT LOUD I CAN ONLY GO LOOK AT THE EIFFEL TOWER SO MANY TIMES AND I ONLY HAVE SO MUCH MONEY TO SPEND DRINKING COCKTAILS AT CAFES SOMETIMES A GIRL JUST NEEDS A BREAK GOD DAMMIT.