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Being French

reasons-to-like-france-graphElo, me naam eez CT, ande 2 monts agoe I beecame French. Well 50% French in the eyes of the law and sub-French in the eyes of every 100% French person, but that sort of ruins the announcement, don’t you think?

Finally, 17 years after being born on French soil to American parents, I was awarded a brilliant piece of paper stating that I now had french citizenship. The whole ceremony took place in a dingy office on the 2nd floor of a dusty creaking building that specializes in transforming peoples’ lives, and was officiated by a weary looking middle-aged woman who looked like she could really use a trip to, well, anywhere. After verifying that I wasn’t a llama posing as a human just to benefit from french health care, she offered me a three page list of first names and asked me to pick one. Despite my longtime fantasy of being named Gertrude Cunégonde, I decided to stick to CT after my father shot me a threatening look, which he only barely pulled off, since I could tell he was about to lose a hard fought battle to hysterical laughter. The lady glared at us, pursed her lips when I told her I was keeping my American citizenship, shook our hands and wished us good day, wrapping up the event in the pomp with which it had been conducted (yes young pineapples, that is sarcasm). And voilà, French I am.

As a French person, I have learned several things essential to surviving in the society of baguettes and berets, which I thought I should share with you here, as I am a kind and generous soul:

#1: Never, ever let on that you are any part American
Apart from the rare Frenchman who appreciates his neighbors from across the pond for having supplied his people with Star Wars and liberation from the Nazis, the French hold Americans to the very lowest of standards. We see the United States as perverting our culture of fine cuisine with such abominations as pre-made frosting (I mean seriously, who can’t make the effort of beating up half a ton of butter and confectioner sugar themselves) and yellow cheese (oh the woe of a people not able to enjoy a cheese made from real bacteria and mold). Not to mention the endless stream of loud and obnoxious tourists who get drunk everyday and end up keeping the whole neighborhood awake at 4am with a slurred version of the Star Spangled Banner that sounds more like a tyrannosaurus rex wailing because its arms aren’t long enough to reach the steak that’s on the top shelf of the refridgerator than any kind of musical ditty. So when in doubt, if the conversation at a wine-tasting soirée turns to the land of guns and bacon, just whole-heartedly agree that every American should be tossed into the Seine River immediately upon arrival, for fear of ending up there yourself.

#2: Act superior
If they hold Americans to the very lowest of standards, the French hold themselves to the very highest. As an ancient civilization with a proud history of invading and being invaded, it is necessary to maintain dominance on the rest of the word, a task which falls to every commoner as his or her civil duty. The code of conduct is as follows. When walking down the street, stride briskly and keep your face completely neutral. When spoken to assume a slightly annoyed look and adjust your voice so as to have a condescending echo (nothing obvious enough to allow for a formal rebuke of course). Finally, be sure to always having something French on you, such as a baguette or a book by a great French novelist (to be handheld in plain view). This will inspire awe from foreigners, who will return home and spread the stereotypes that allow for an international French reverence, and notify other Frenchman that you entertain the same noble quest as they, and thus deserve to be treated with respect.

#3: Be patriotic
This goes hand in hand with reason number 2, but is absolutely primordial: you must be willing to fight for your country, lie for your country, sow, reap and die for your country (I think I should change my career path to motivational poet. Thoughts? Actually, it’s probably better if you don’t say anything at all, I see you sneering from a million miles away). If you are caught doing something dishonorable, say you’re from England, those bastards have tried invading us enough times to deserve a little retribution. Of course if you’re being filmed by a television crew for having saved 15 people from a burning building, no matter if you look like raccoon whose wife is dragging him to marriage counseling sessions that cost way too much for the meager salary you make as a trashcan spotter, make sure to yell that you’re French. It’s very important to the social well-being of the country that we be recognized as underdog heroes. Keeps us modest and bashful.

Now I realize that I’ve been rather unkind to the French in this post, and before any of my fellow compatriots descend upon me in a flurry of rage and cigarette smoke, I’d like to share the words I wrote in my letter to the mayor: “J’espère amener honneur à vous et aux institutions de ce pays dont je suis si fière d’être devenue la citoyenne”, which translates roughly to “I promise to try and not disgrace myself any more than I already have… but dawg I’m French now, and there ain’t nobody who can touch me” (very roughly).

Liberté, égalité, fraternité to all my French homies out there. I’m going to stop writing now, before I get any more ghetto.

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

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Don’t cry for me, high school

graduationThere are two days left until graduation. Two days of the same classes that we’ve been subject to all year, with the same teachers who have drowned on about Kant and Keynes for hours that have seemed like days. This week is different though, tinged with a sort of pre-nostalgia. When we put on those hats that make it look like one has a table on one’s head and the robes one gets at the hairdresser’s, we’ll be closing the door on one stage of our lives and saying hello to college all-nighters and disgusting frat parties.

Now before y’all get teary-eyed on me (yes, I’m flattering my writing, deal with it), you should know that French graduation, at least at my school, is a complete sham. It’s so early in the year only so that the International Baccalaureat kids (who are now on summer break, bastards) can go on vacation. Which means that while they waltz off to their expensive tropical destinations and sip those diabetes-inducing cocktails with little pink umbrellas in them, us normal students get to go back to class so that the teachers who have only taught a quarter of what they’re supposed to on the year can jam 3/4 of the program into a week and then have the nerve to tell us that we’re “not going to fail final exams”.

Every kid I’ve ever wanted to punch here, every adult who made me wish arrest for money laundering on them, every failed test that I quietly and unceremoniously set fire to (after having examined and learned from my mistakes of course, geez mom) is soon gonna eat my dust as I jet off to the land of capitalism and bacon.

Still, I’m getting graduation goggles. Why? Because for every five assholes at this school, there’s been someone to squeeze your hand and say “just keep swimming” when you’re staring at that despairingly low grade and wondering if it’s time to just give up and flush your dreams down the toilet already. Because for every five teachers who made you come in at 8am on a Saturday to take a four hour test, there’s that one who squealed and hugged you ’til you needed CPR (preferably administered by a hot shirtless dude, obviously) when they learned that you got accepted to your first-choice university.
The way your face lights up when you spot a friend in the hallway that you feel like you haven’t seen in weeks even though you saw her yesterday, the contests to see who can eat their slice of pizza the fastest, the lazy afternoons after class spent lying on the grass staring up at the Eiffel Tower eating way too much ice cream… These are the things I am going to so desperately miss. Because as cheesy as it sounds, they are the reasons that I painfully convinced myself to not smash the 7am alarm clock all these years.

Ladies and gentledudes, Classes of 2015 around the world, we did it. Props to our brains for not going through with the idea that they would much rather be potatoes.

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

The Post About Toes

My toes lie dormant for most of the year, nestled in warm fuzzy socks and hidden from the cold by thick furry boots. Much like groundhogs, they hibernate until they feel the soft breeze of spring tickle them during a night when they were violently kicked out from under the covers. And that, that is when they wake up and start demanding what they feel is rightfully theirs: freedom.

From all of you out there freaking out because I’m implying that my toes have an independent thought pattern, calm your over-enthusiastic horses. I’m not saying that my toes suddenly start moving all by themselves and ask the brain if they can break up with my body just to pitter-patter away on their own adventures. I like to think that my toes love me far to much to ever act on the great threat of 2011 (don’t ask.), so don’t y’all go chopping off your toes in fear that they’ll decide to discover China without you. Seriously, don’t, you’ll look like a wounded ostrich when you walk around.

I, being the generous and fair goddess that y’all claim me to be, give them their freedom earlier than most. Roughly translated into human lingo, this means that by March I can be seen prancing around the streets of Paris in my favorite pair of flip flops, gathering stares of disdain from most, awe from some and admiration from the rare few. I mean I have nothing against normal shoes, I wear sneakers and flats like everyone else, but there’s nothing quite like that first day when you walk outside, wiggle your toes and feel the raw air on your feet.

Having feet free of the constraints of suffocating socks and shoes is a part of summer that I love and that I would have a hard time living without, which is part of the reason that I could never thrive in Siberia. That and I don’t speak Russian. Now I know that some people simply can’t take off their shoes and walk across a lawn or a beach barefoot. Ladies, gentlemen and aliens, you are missing out. There are few feelings more enjoyable than having sand filter through your toes or letting your feet sink into a shaggy carpet of juicy green grass.

So (I feel as if I’m in a commercial, advertizing some natural health enhancer thing), take off your shoes, let your toes breathe, and walk through the grass. Well, except if you live in the city, in which case don’t, because the grass is covered in a thick layer of dog piss. Side effects of walking barefoot through an urban park may include fungi, disgust and consequential barfing. You are forwarned. Peace out.

Live long and prosper \V/
Sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: Am I the only one who’s been having some trouble with WordPress lately? My notifications don’t always show up, my reader won’t load… It’s the weirdest thing.

The Art of Being Late

SP_GL2014_Destined_for_Lateness_01_HR0Yes, esteemed ladies and gentlemen, ’tis an art. Not anyone can be late and get away with it, much less be accepted as a generally tardy person. Ah well forget it, I can’t write a whole blog post in posh language. ‘Tis not the way I roll (dammit, it’s harder than I thought to stop!). I happen to be one of the many people who are late to absolutely everything, including for example, writing on The Mostly Confused Teenager. *southern accent* Folks, it’s been a near two weeks. Nay, three. I really am not very good at speaking in a southern accent. I sound like a dying Australian cat.

I am a notorious latebomb (person who is late. No? Do you have a better suggestion? Huh?). In 6th grade, my friends threw me a surprise party at one of my dearest friend’s house. The problem with packing the attic with people and telling me to get there at 2pm sharp was that at 1:45pm I decided to go shopping. What a decision that was! Well, time passed and still I wasn’t at the ‘party’; but since I gave no indication of where I was, all of my friends stuck out the rats and cobwebs in the attic for an hour before I finally showed up. The consequent scene was, as you can imagine, powerfully embarrassing for me. Today people expect me to be late, so I am often given a time earlier than the one that the others are given. More times than not however, I find out that I was given a premature time and subsequently arrive a precise half an hour later than the normal time. Yeah, it’s pretty bad.

Life has been… life. I’m not being deep here (or maybe I am. Or not. Whatever.), just trying to explain that in between a college tour in the United States of ‘Murica during fall break, rooting for the Red Sox and the Patriots, homework and school, I have had no time for blogging. BUT never fear, oh faithful readers of which I have few, I am back! And better than ever bab.. well perhaps not, but you get my point.

Anyways, this post is going to be dedicated to me. Yay! In my fashionably/just plain ridiculous fashion, I shall address the amazing number of awards that I have received in the past, um, two months *clears throat awkwardly*. I’d just like to offer a shout out to Chris Thomas, George Peat and Attempting Reality for the awards that they nominated me for and that I looked at over on their blogs. They are pure awesome, please, check them out! (fancy typography)

sunshine-awardSo first we have Rienne, who nominated me for the Sunshine Award. Right now it’s miserably cold and rainy outside, so I’m actually really optimistic about this award. Thank you Rienne, I looove your blog, it’s so terribly entertaining! Here are 10 things about me. I can’t honestly call them entertaining but… well… 😉

1.  I’ve dreamed of going into space ever since I was a little girl, preferably on a nice big ship like the USS Enterprise where I won’t get claustrophobic.
2. My favourite colour is pink. Most people assume that it’s purple because I always have at least a little bit of purple on me, but the only reason that I am not clothed in hot pink is because it’s hot pink. I think a blonde girl in hot pink who likes to blend in is sort of self explanatory.
3. I am a slob. Shocker.
4. My favourite things to do are sleep and eat, in that order. Oh, and see my friends. Sorry I forgot that one guys!
5. My favourite subjects in school are Biology and English.
6. My two least favourite are without a shadow of a doubt Math and Physics.
7. I’ve only ever been on the coasts of the United States, although I would like to go inland some!
8. My sleeping habits are a wee-bit f’d up. (Wee. Makes me think of pee. Now I need to pee. MAAAAAN COME ON!)
9. I remember things that are not useful and forget the things that are.
10. I spend way to much of my precious free time doing unproductive things.
11. I haven’t drunk a Coca Cola since last year.

Wow I did it! I didn’t think I could come up with 11 things about myself! I am impressed — self-five. And why don’t we forget that that ever happened and move on?

abc-awardThe next award is from PatKayBites and it is the ABC Award, or Awesome Blog Content 🙂 Mom, Dad, you’ll be mightily/not at all impressed that I got this award on your behalf, so danke-Idon’tknowhowit’sspelled. And danke-Idon’tknowhowit’sspelled to Patty Cakes too, oh so much! Your blog is hilarious! I’m supposed to, using an acrostic, describe myself in one word. Well finding the word isn’t that hard:

Team (I may be a little bit of a social recluse, but my team is my life)
Energy (SUGAR, THE FRIEND OF HYPERACTIVITY)
Eavesdropping (excuse me what?)
Normal (Ha. Just Kidding.)
Abnormal (there we go!)
Girl (duh)
Eager (I love new stuff, junk, knowledge, torture, whatever you prefer to call it)
Relatable (I hope that I’m not the only confused person out there!)

liebster-award1Booya. The first Liebster Award comes from the inspiring Danny Zucho with the awesome name. Thanks Danny, you are truly amazeballs! I know that I am supposed to state 11 things about myself, but since I did that earlier and am depressingly out of ideas, I’m just going to answer the questions.

  • What is your favorite TV show?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER! Is there any other answer? But I also love the Big Bang Theory, Doctor Who, Star Trek, Community… I do have my geeky side to uphold of course!

  • Where is one place you go that calms you down?

My room in our house in the French countryside, Normandy to be more precise. I redid it myself in the fall of last year; peeling of the old paint, plugging holes with plaster, painting 3 layers of lavender on the walls and 3 of white on the ceiling and finally decorating it with posters that, of course, hid my wonderful paint job. It’s my zen spot, the crowning glory of 16 year old.

  • Coffee or Tea?

Oh man, this is a hard question! I guess I have to say tea, just because I have it more often and have known it for a longer time, although I do still love coffee (with loads of milk and sugar. So basically, coffee flavoured milk).

  • Is the glass half-full or half-empty?

Half-full, let’s be optimistic here!

  • Favorite Disney movie?

Dang it, another really tough question. I’m going to have to go with the Lady and the Tramp on this one, it’s the cutest, most amazing Disney movie!

  • Do you believe in love at first sight?

Yes. Only I haven’t experienced it yet. YET.

  • Why did you decide to start blogging?

I thought I needed a summer project during my vacation, and since I was pretty bored I decided that it should be something that I could commit to every day if I wanted to. Yes, The Mostly Confused Teenager is a product of my boredom. And need for a space to ramble.

  • Who is someone you look up to?

The Great Cookie in the sky. Final answer. The truth is that I haven’t had an amazingly influential person in my life, so I’ve always kind of formed my own thinking without basing it on my impressions of someone else.

  • What type of superpower would you want to have?

The ability to be able to not pee. Wouldn’t that be a lifesaver?

  • Right now, if you had a chance to travel anywhere and money was not an option, where would you go?

Either the Caribbean or Canada. Exotic, n’est ce pas? The Caribbean is warm, beautiful and has the best beaches and Canada has snow. It’s a toss up really.

  • What is one goal that you have that means a lot to you?

Getting into a good college is definitely one of my main short-term goals. This means getting my grades up, especially my dismal math grade; which in turn, means more homework. Ugh.

Next on the list is Kairomaniac, the 14 year old with a gift for writing. You go girl! Her questions are the following:

1. If you had the option to run away from your life and start again, would you take it?
No. My life has it’s hard parts, rough patches and just plain sucky experiences, but I imagine that it’s all just part of the full package. Ahum.
2. What is/was your least favourite subject in school?
The Math of Mathematics :p
3. What is your least favourite colour?
Khaki. It looks like goose poop, don’t you think? Actually now that I think about it a lot of people with khaki coats might take offence at this, so let’s put the brown that’ s the colour of poop instead. I have a strange fascination with poop in this question it appears.
4. What do you never leave the house without?
I wish I could say my keys, phone or wallet. Unfortunately I forget those items practically more times than I remember them, so… Chapstick. My lips look like chipped boulders otherwise.
5. Do you like cheese? (always a great one to ask ;) )
Heck yes! I live in France, land of cheese. I could definitely live on bread, butter, cheese and milk (please, oh scientists, don’t contradict me on this one will you?)
6. Do you think teenagers are given too little credit?
Yes and no. In one sense we’re looked at like children who are totally irresponsible, which makes me mad; and in the other, we do weird-ass sh*t. Eh.
7. Have you ever said hello to a sheep? (hey! stranger things have happened)
Immediately after I’d seen Doctor Doolittle, yes. In fact I had a whole conversation with it. Well, it was more of a monologue.
8. What song do you have stuck in your head right now?
Grace Kelly – MIKA.
9. ‘Ice cream is overrated’ – How much do you disagree with this statement? ;)
Although you can’t see my face, I’m scowling. Ice cream is not overrated, and I dare anyone to disagree. *snarls and chokes*
10. Why do you blog?
Today, I blog because it’s an escape. From other things that I’m supposed to be doing.

Almost 2000 words later, we’re down to the before last awesome sauce person who nominated me: The Editing Girl. It’s another Liebster Award, which I guess are actually to applicable to me anymore since I have over 200 followers (whaaaaat?!) but I like them anyway. So thank you! 🙂 I present to you… the questions:

1. Favorite book series and why? –> the Anne of Green Gables series. I grew up reading it and always wanted to be my own Anne Shirley.

2. Favorite movie series and why? –> Star Wars. Do you even need a reason?

3. Favorite song or artist and why? –> it changes practically every month, but right now it’s Imagine Dragons! Why? Why not?

4. Favorite brand/company (any product) and why? –> this is actually near impossible for me to answer as I don’t really shop for brands. I guess I’ll just say that I really like Bath and Body Works.

5. Television (shows and movies) or reading? –> HIMYM, BBT, New Girl, Community, Doctor Who, Glee (so sue me)… And, sadly, all school books.

6. Role models? Grace Kelly, Evita Peron

7. Favorite quote? –> “Always suspect everybody”, Charles Dickens.

8. Favorite smell, feeling, taste, sight and sound? (I know that’s multiple questions in one) –> favourite smell: food or fresh hay. Those make me feel happy inside! Taste: pizza. Heck yes. Sight: sunset over our house in Normandy. Sound: the birds in the morning/early afternoon, waking me up during vacation.

9. Biggest fear? –> Spiders. Those creepy crawly things scare the bejeezus out of me.

10. If you could change only one thing about the world, what would you change? –> something environmental. I want this planet to survive long enough to give humans a chance to resolve their other problems that you very much.

LAST ONE! Paul Smuts, I love you. Well not really, not like that anyway, but you are super inspiring. Keep running!

1) What takes up most of your free time? –> I’m tempted to answer, what free time? The problem is that when I have free time, I waste it. So probably watching stuff on my computer. This being said, I also go for regular runs, bake, and read. My nose may often be buried in a Calvin and Hobbes book.

2) Are you more of a book or movie person? –> Even though I do watch a lot of movies, definitely a book person. I’ve been having an affair with books since I was a little girl, and it’s something that I’ve never been able to get over.

3) What is/was your favorite school subject? –> I have two, English and Biology!

4) Coffee or tea? –> Copy and Paste 😉 Oh man, this is a hard question! I guess I have to say tea, just because I have it more often and have known it for a longer time, although I do still love coffee (with loads of milk and sugar. So basically, coffee flavoured milk).

5) Do you plan your week or live from day to day? –> I plan my week and then live from day to day!

6) Favorite series/movie? –> favourite series: How I Met Your Mother, favourite movie: Remember the Titans.

7) Where do you see yourself five years from now? –> hopefully, in college! I can dream right?

8) Favorite fast food? –> Dunkin’ Donuts. I’m going to call it a fast food.

9) A movie that made you cry? –> Actually, once again, Remember the Titans. It’s just so… *sob*.. amazing!

10) A goal you recently set for yourself? –> not only survive but excel in my intensive track and field sessions.

You might notice that I haven’t put any of the rules up here, for the simple reason that I’m in a rebellious mood. Secondly, I haven’t nominated anyone, but I have nominated everyone! Yeah, cheesy, I know. You certainly all deserve it!

Thank you so much, it means so much to me that you all nominated me, and I hope I have been able to do you justice! Also, if you’ve gotten this far, congratulations! 😀 This has been a really long post, I’ll try not to be this late next time. Now I have to tackle my email and the wonderful comments you’ve all left me. I love you guys so much!

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

Friendship is Magic

At the beginning of the year I volunteered to help the new kids get acquainted with the school. Now I have to stress that I didn’t do this as a totally selfless act, being a naturally lazy person I often don’t see the point of doing something if it doesn’t benefit ME in some way, so I did it for my college application. ANYWAY, ignoring the fact that I am a egocentric selfish person, I actually learned a lot and loved helping people.

I, as a peer leader (I know, bad name right?), was assigned the new high school sophomores in the morning and I got to see what I resembled a year before at that same point in time. Well, not me exactly, because I wasn’t invited to the ‘new kid assembly’ *mean* but you get my point. The students were painfully awkward and sat quietly on their chairs, staring at each other while I babbled on like an idiot, telling them how badly they were going to suffer/die in the year to come. As I moved on to the meaning of life or some shit like that, I noticed that they weren’t listening to me. Duh. So I tried to imagine what was going on in their heads:

“Holy crap I’m sitting with the people who I’m going to spend my whole year with. Will any of these bozos be my friends? Ooooh, he/she’s cute!”

I’ve seen a few of them around since then, and it made me really pleased each time to see that they had made friends and were still breathing.

 

In the afternoon we got assigned to a different age group: the littler kids. The EABJM starts in 1st grade, so none of the 6 years olds knew each other. They toddled over, hanging onto their parents, clinging desperately to the last thread of the first part of their childhood. Some of them were so shy that they couldn’t even tell me their name, and could only point their tiny trembling fingers at their nametags. We had a couple of crying cases and outright refusals to go play duck duck goose, but after a little coaxing and bribing by the parents, most of them eventually stumbled reluctantly into the ‘games circle’. And then, magic happened. After about five minutes of knocking each other out and being silly geese, the kids were all best friends. The girls were already sitting around talking about, um, ponies and hair ties (sorry, I’ve forgotten what 6 year olds talk about) and the boys were kicking a soccer ball around. HOW? HOW I ASK YOU? 5 minutes. That’s all it took and they were friends for life! Or, like, as long as they’re at the school.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how we, today, as people having passed the stage of early childhood, make friends. It’s not like we can just walk up to a random stranger on the street and ask “Heyyyyyy [elongated word to show just how cool you are. not.] Wanna be my friiiiend? *smile that is meant to be warm but is in reality just creepy*. The person who you asked would probably call the police.

But for all my odd musings, I do know one thing for sure: (well more than one thing but… um… anyways) that I have found the most amazing people through this blog, some of whom have become very awesome friends 🙂 So I just wanted to say thank you to every single one of you 204 people who have subscribed to The Mostly Confused Teenager during the past two months, it really does mean the world to me. I love you guys! [In a totally platonic way, and not in a weird stalkery (not a word recognized by spell check, dammit!) way. I should probably stop talking, I’m just embarassing myself.)

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: Sorry for the quality of today’s writing, this post was written in a boring History class. I can say this because my parents have promised never to mention my blog or anything on it. Yay!

PPS: Pipi. Hihihi. *blushes and dives under covers* I know I haven’t been on the reader or addressed my wonderful awards yet, but I will, I promise! It’ll be easier when my teachers decide that they don’t want us to die after all.

 

 

 

 

Never Forget

9-11-flagThank you. Thank you to the people, thank you to the firemen, thank you to the doctors, thank you to to ambulances drivers, thank you to the police, thank you to the radio operators, thank you to the rescue personnel, thank you to the brave Betty Ong, thank you to the coast guards, thank you to the ironworkers, thank you to the structural engineers, thank you to the carpenters, thank you to the electricians, thank you to the machinists, thank you to the plumbers, thank you to the pipefitters, thank you to the riggers, thank you to the Red Cross, thank you to the rescue dogs, thank you to the volunteers, thank you to the unsung heroes stuck inside, thank you to Americans everywhere, thank you to the world. Thank you to so, so many more. Thank you.

I was only a little girl when the attacks took place, but that frightened little four year old saw her parents hysterically crying and hugging each other. Now 4 times the age that she was then, this teenager still automatically reverts to a scared child when she sees footage or hears stories. Even though back then I didn’t know what was going on I knew it was something big and horrible that I couldn’t even begin to imagine; I knew nothing of hate, the place of the United States in the world, politics or terrorists. Today I’ve seen original footage, films, interviews, read stories, seen Mike Piazza’s home run that gave life back to New York, heard the phone calls that were made from the Towers, seen the people jump to their deaths. 

Today I know that my Aunt got lucky. See, she worked in a building directly adjacent to the World Trade Center. If you walk out of her office you are at Ground Zero. On September 11th 2001 my Aunt got a headache when she woke up. After long debating whether or not to go to work, she decided that she’d better stay home and call in sick. That one decision saved her life. Later that morning her building was totalled under the falling of debris and eventual collapse of the Twin Towers. It makes me wonder, how can something as trivial as her decision was change, just… everything?

I’m sometimes asked what kind of movie scares me the most; gory, mysterious etc. But the real answer, the one I don’t often give is “the real kind”. The 9/11 videos that make me cry uncontrollably. It’s a different kind of scary, and for me, it’s much, much worse.

RIP to all those that lost their lives in this horrible tragedy. We will never forget you.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I know that this isn’t my usual light happy fluffy unicorn style of writing, but in previous years all I’ve known to do is wear black on 9/11. This year I have somewhere where I can finally pay tribute, somehow, to the fallen and the heroes of September 2001. Never forget.

The Best of Friends

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They’re an odd couple, almost human-like, always a step away from killing each other all while harboring deep love and respect. To all the people going “ewww, is she talking about animal husbandry or some such pineapples?”, no, no I am not. I’m talking about a friendship so strong that nothing could break it.  Not even an butcher’s knife, pr even an ax. Well, maybe an ax could… Why am I talking about axes? I flummox myself sometimes. All the time.

I got my cat for my 6th birthday and named her Lucy because at the time I was obsessed with the Narnia books, so please don’t judge me. A tiny little kitten, she hid under the bathtub for 3 days. The innocent little girl that I was was heartbroken that she wouldn’t let me touch her (again, that sounds wrong), so I slipped her bowl of food to her hiding place each day, wishing she’d come out. Of course she eventually did and I was able to pet her, all while keeping my guard up for fear that she would gobble me up like a dinosaur. At the tender age of 6, I didn’t know much about cats, and I wouldn’t hold her until I was 8. Soon enough she discovered that 1) the outside world was really quite exciting and 2) she could eat A LOT of mice, throw them up in the house and still get fed. Heaven right? She’s my best animal friend, nuzzling up to me when she senses I’m feeling down, looking at me like a disapproving grandma when I do something wrong. She’s incredibly (and weirdly) social, so we basically had a dog already. Her peace lasted 3 years.

At that point, he arrived.

Cooperstown Hope, named thus because we hoped he would be a great baseball player/dog. Since it’s a fancy and stuck up name we call him Cooper for short. Or Bum. Whichever. Cooper was a tiny little golden ball of fluff who peed all over the house and got all of our attention: we ooh-ed and aah-ed over his cute puppy dog eyes and laughed at his clumsiness. While the cat had never liked her treats, he ate everything [yes, even whatever you’re imagining]. We loved him from the start and fawned over him like a bunch of girls drooling over a hot guy. Lucy hated him. This treatment was unfair, after all she’d has us all to herself for 3 whole years, and this “thing” came and tore that all away from her in a day. What a scam.

Cooper has always loved to play, so when he was little he would always try to get Lucy to tussle with him; but because she was the queen of the house and despised anything inferior to her (–> him) she rejected his advances scornfully. It’s only now, 6 years later, that she’s started to accept him as an equal. Unfortunately for her Cooper caught onto her scheme early on and now that she wants him, he pointedly ignores her. It’s like watching a reaaally long soap opera. Nonetheless they have their moments when they play together and look exceedingly happy. Other times, like the one in the picture, they just mutually enjoy each others company, lazing around, doing nothing in particular (hey, kind of like me! :))

Deep down they are the best of friends: if something is bothering Cooper, Lucy will go up to him and push his paw around with her nose reassuringly, and should any animal other than him come onto to his kitty, Cooper will make it very clear that she is his and only his.

I love them both with all my heart, and I hope that they always have the same hilariously weird relationship as they do today.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.