¡Vive la France!

My father was a pseudo hippie. Long hair, flip flops, against the Vietnam War, take-this-job-and-shove-it attitude (which he put into literal practice at one point). I speak in past tense because he's now a cynical conservative with a hint of dormant pseudo hippie that he refuses to let me see, lest he fuel my idealism. Nonetheless, I am my father's daughter, and idealistic I remain (at least until I turn 50 and earn a few gray streaks). I have a tendency to romanticize revolution and all that they represent: the messy, all-consuming glory of bringing down the oppressive and waving the flag of the oppressed. As such a romantic, I cannot help but be thrilled with today, Bastille Day. I've mentioned it a few times today, but sadly no one is as interested as I. Though there were only seven prisoners in the fortress at the time, the image of this great stronghold falling was, I'm sure, thrilling to all involved...one rather huge act of rebellion in a land desperate for it.

My fascination with the French Revolution began long before I watched Marie Antoinette one million times, so I feel it's legitimate. No matter the source of my intrigue, I have celebrated my freedom from oppressive monarchies today. Nothing extraordinary or earth-shattering, nothing the Third Estate would find particularly striking, but I count it a small victory for myself.

Yay for small acts of rebellion! ¡Vive la révolution!