Tattoo #10 – France: C’est la Vie, and the Spirit of Revolution

There was another long pause between tattoos. This time, not because of COVID or a change in direction.
This time, I was building something.

Between June 2021 and March 2023, I stayed grounded. No flights, no trips. Not by circumstance, but by choice. I had landed in Omaha during this window, not for the fun of it, but because I was laying the foundation for something that wouldn’t fully reveal its fruit until March 2025. Some of my friends thought I moved to Omaha due to witness protection. But no, that wasn’t the case, and it would have more in store for me than I could have imagined.

Tattoo #10 wasn’t part of the plan.
It was a detour from destiny, and it came from someone special.

Paris Wasn’t on the Itinerary

Cindy. A global professional makeup artist got an opportunity of a lifetime. An invitation to work at Paris Fashion Week. She had never been to France before and wasn’t about to go without me.

I was midway through my no-travel phase, a self-imposed pause until I could travel freely, luxuriously, and indefinitely again.

But love has its own plans.

So Cindy bought my ticket.

And just like that, we were headed to France.

Paris, Through Her Eyes

I lived in France years ago.
But this time, it was different.

This time, I was watching her fall in love with it. The lights, the history, the food, the vibe of the city. Her awe made everything brighter. Every museum visit, every wine-paired dinner, every late-night walk under glowing street lamps became our story, not just the city’s.

We dined like locals every night.
We hit up nightclubs, museums, and galleries.
We wrapped ourselves in coats, layers, and laughter.

Between all the work, I was still working remotely, limited to just 14 days abroad under my job’s policy, and the indulgent moments, there was a warmth in the cold. A sense that this wasn’t just a trip. It was the second country we’d visited together.

Then Came the Ink

A few days before we left, I felt that itch.
You know the one.

It was time for a tattoo.

But this one had no design ready, and there was no symbolic master plan in the queue. I’d been to France before. I’d worked alongside the French military during my Marine Corps days. Let’s say the stereotype of rivalry held true.

They thought we were loud, violent, and a bit excessive.
We thought they were smug, soft, and all wine-no-grit.
All in good fun. Kind of. Not really. It was always on sight between us hahaha. They were surprisingly good at smack talk, which upset us.

But as I walked through Paris again. This time, older, wiser, standing hand in hand with Cindy, I saw the beauty and brilliance that lives under all that confidence.

Vive la Révolution

France has a long and bloody history of revolutions.
Not one. Not two. But three.

The last public execution by guillotine was in 1977. Let that sink in. That’s within living memory.

We’ve all heard the phrase “C’est la vie.”
“Such is life.” It’s what people say when something bad happens and they feel powerless.

But here’s what sets the French apart:

When things suck, they don’t shrug. They revolt.

When life doesn’t go their way, they don’t say “oh well.”
They build barricades, they organize, and they take them to the streets. GANG GANG!

There’s something powerful and romantic about people who refuse to suffer in silence. I admire that.

A Revolution of My Own

Sometimes I think the whole world needs a revolution.
A real one. Not just political. But spiritual. Global.

Imagine if humanity had a shared mission again, like exploring the stars or defeating aging itself.
What if we fought to transcend limits together instead of fighting each other?

That’s what this tattoo reminds me of.

It says:

When life pushes you down, don’t take it lying down.
Stand up. Rebel. Fight back.

Simple and bold: “C’est la vie.”
But not in that soft, shrug-it-off way.

This isn’t about resignation — it’s a call to action.

That’s life… now do something about it.

You’re single and want out? Could you do something about it?
Are you in a relationship that’s draining you? Do something about it.
No skills? Learn them.
Stuck in a toxic household? Make an escape plan.

Short of being physically detained, you are never without options, and it is self-damaging to think otherwise. If your situation is someone else’s fault, then you are likely waiting for someone else to fix it. A nightmare position to be in. One I would never be in.

This tattoo is a personal rebellion against blame. Even when something is clearly and objectively someone else’s fault. I still ask myself:
What could I have done differently?
What can I do better next time?
That’s how change starts. That’s how revolutions begin.

And make no mistake — revolutions always come with risk. Significant change comes with significant risks.

The military taught me something priceless:
I don’t fear losing material things. I don’t fear going without. I’ve slept in deserts. I’ve lived off the land. I know that fruit grows on trees, and you take nothing with you when you die.

That’s freedom. That’s power.

Life begins where fear ends.

And life? Life is short, and I’ve taken many significant risks that paid off, like moving to Omaha and going into the military.
So I placed this tattoo on the outside of my right hand, right where a proper military salute would display it.

A fusion of who I was, who I am, and who I’m becoming.
A reminder to salute life, but only on your terms.

Paris, in the End

Paris wasn’t on the itinerary.
But it turned out to be precisely what I needed.

A city of love.
A city of revolution.
A city that reminded me of who I’ve been and what I still stand for.

And thanks to Cindy, I didn’t go alone.