Tag Archive | College

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.

Senioritis

I am a senior.
I have reached the ultimate grade.I am older than most every junior, sophomore, freshman, middle schooler and kindergartener. Well, older than every kindergartener for sure.
This is my year. My last year.
I am scared, I am nervous, I am excited.
I will rule the school.
I will tackle the unknown and triumph over the French education system.
I will survive.
I am a senior, and today my future begins.

PS: If that sounded cool, calm and collected, then I’m a better writer than I think. I’m a freaking churning ice cream maker on the inside!

Why I’m Suicidal (Part I)

Now before you all  shove your suicide hot line numbers in my face (on which, paradoxically, I might choke), I’m not suicidal yet. However, I want to become a doctor, so I am convinced that a part of me must be slightly crazy. Slightly. No comments please.

I’ve wanted to be a doctor ever since I was a little girl, around 6 years old. As the years pass I’ve always stuck firm to my resolution, never wavering from the path of my dreams, but never really thinking about it either. Now, less than a year away from college applications, people (including my pushy but well-intentioned parents) are questioning my motives. Why do I want to become a doctor? Why would I want to put myself through so many years of hell? Well maybe I like hell. Did you ever think of that? Huh? Wait no… I like lazing around and doing nothing. I really need to ask myself some serious questions. After a lot of procrastinating and wishing that I had a yacht (don’t ask, even I don’t know), I’ve come up with a certain number of reasons why I want to be a doctor.

#1: It’s as interesting as a chocolate fountain

Chocolate fountains are interesting as fudge (get it? *big grin* no? *grin fades a little* I use the word ‘fudge’ to replace f*ck, and in context it worked so well that I found myself quite clever. Whaaat am I doing?). Biology is my favorite class in the whole wide world, because I always learn something new, something so amazing that it often makes my mouth hang open and my eyes widen until someone tells me that I look like a dying fish. “Yeah, but CT, you learn things in other classes too, isn’t that the point of school?” I see where you’re coming from, oh stranger of the Internet, but for me there’s a vast difference in between say, what I learn in math and what I learn in bio. Here’s an example:
BIO
Teacher: did you if someone laid your blood vessels from end to end they would circle the Earth approximately 2,5 times?
Me: I COULD RULE THE WOR-Oh wait no I’d be dead. *looks down at body* The force is strong with this one!
MATH
Teacher: did you know that if cosx = 1/2, x= pi/3 or -pi/3?
Me: Oh my god, who the hell cares?
See, there’s just something about the world of science that is so fascinating that sometimes I can’t tear myself away from my biology book. Math on the other hand I have no trouble putting at the bottom of my bag where I can’t see it.

#2: The knight of the sick

Knights can be women now right? No? Only dames? But I want to go around on a horse and save people too! When you’re a doctor, your patients look up to you, unless you do a crappy job, in which case they risk killing you with a chainsaw in the middle of the night while eating a hamburger. I’m not saying that I’m avid of power, but it’s nice to be needed and to know that you can make someone’s life better, show them the way out of the dark abyss that they’d been stuck in, and most of all put a smile back on their face. I know it’s cliché, but there’s a reason that people use it as a reason (not at all repetitive CT, good sentence structure): there’s nothing quite like seeing someone’s face light up because you’ve made them happy.

#3: It’s fulfilling (like mint-chip ice cream)

The awesome thing about making someone else happy is that it makes you happy. There’s nothing that makes me more pleased than someone’s eyes widen in delight when they see that I have cookies. Is that selfish? I can’t tell, and it’s stressing me out a little bit. Aaand now I’ve forgotten what I was talking about. Ah yes: I imagine that making people feel better and taking away the pain is a bit like giving someone a cookie and a hug when they’re having a bad day, but in a much more important sense. I don’t want to get stuck in a dead end job where I finish some kind of project and get absolutely no satisfaction in it, sit back in my chair and think; “I miss the days when I was all smiley faces and jumped around ecstatically when I accomplished something (and not because I was high either)“. I want to feel something inside of me each time a patient come around and tells me that he or she is feeling better, something new and refreshing that will motivate me to keep going.

#4: I will NEVER get bored

And if I do, there are always fail videos on YouTube (will YouTube still exist when I’m grown up? *slaps herself before the panicky feeling takes a hold of her heart*). I’m not the kind of person who can sit in one seat for 3 hours and type away at a computer without getting butterflies in her stomach and needing to walk around stretching her legs as if she were part of the Ministry of Silly Walks on Monty Python. In medecine, you’ve got the type-cases that you learn about in medical school, but as soon as you get into the real world everything is very different (I’ve heard, I unfortunately haven’t mastered time travel yet): no two people are the same, which means that no two needs  are the same and by association no two cases are identical. Can you imagine? The excitement of waking up each day and knowing that you’re going to accomplish something new and be confronted to something that you may never have encountered before? It’s kind of like pizza: there’s an infinite amount of possibilities that will always surprise and challenge (I consider a nutella pizza to be challenging) and will sometimes leave a bad taste in your mouth (try nutella and anchovies, then reap), but all in all the experiences are so interesting that nothing would make you regret them.

This is a list in progress, meaning that it’s not even close to done. It also means that when I go into an interview and someone asks me ‘why’ I want to be a doctor, I can remember this article and spit out a drastically different version of it. Because there is no way in hell that I’m telling my examiner that I want to be a doctor because with the money I make off of it, I could buy a solar powered unicorn tracker.

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

Time Is Running Out

Well, not really. I mean time can’t actually run anywhere, nor can it suddenly die from a cookie overdose (sh*t happens), but you get the point. At the start of a new school year, I realized that I’m a junior, which means that at the current moment in time, I have less than two years before I go off to University and leave my home forever. And frankly, the thought of moving on with my life scares me a whole lot.

When I was a little girl, I had no concept of time. Some people, namely my mother, would argue that I still don’t, but it has come to my attention how much my appreciation of the timey-wimey wibbly-wobbly stuff has changed (DOCTOR WHO REFERENCE). At the age of six or seven I had no fixed timetable, no calendar to look at and remind myself that I had an orthodontist appointment the day before which I missed (Oops, oh well. *doesn’t care*). School was school, and it went on until my mom told me it was time for vacation and that I’d only come back in two weeks. I never knew that my last day of 1st grade was the last day, I only knew when I didn’t have to get up too early for my organism to handle the next day. Summer vacation was eternity, each day stretching out with limitless possibility, succeeding the last with equal importance. My mother’s birthday (the 22nd of August) which now seems abominably close to the end was just a random event in the long fabric of vacation. One day, it was time to go back to the world of books and number two pencils, and that transition was made without question. I was not in control.

As I got older, time started speeding up. I knew when school started and when it ended. When vacations came around I always looked forward to the first day of lying around in bed in a cocoon of warmth and coziness with glee, wishing the end would never arrive. During the summer I kept a conscious eye on the date at all times, measuring out the time I had left. Heck, I probably spend more time worrying about what things will be like when something ends than enjoying it while it happens.

Even though they have been filled with quite interminable math and latin classes, the last two years have flown by. On the first day of school you think; “Oh man this year is going to be soooo long, I don’t know how I’ll ever survive the boredom of lessons everyday. Better warn my unicorn to be ready each afternoon so that I can at least ride home in style”. And then, BAM, before you know it, you’re laughing and crying on the last day, swearing eternal friendship and wishing fervently that you were still the awkward new kid (although let’s face it, you still are and will always be, the awkward new kid).

This teenager has one terrifying question on her mind at the moment: if time has sped up so much in the past few years, where will things be at in, say, ten? Will a month then be equal to a day now? Does time keep speeding up until you’re whizzing around at the speed of a deranged giraffe? I’ll admit, I’m scared of what will happen. I guess that it’s important for me to remember that change can be good and that holding onto the past is not always the right path of action to take. Whatever metaphorical deer rush into my headlights, I’ll make sure that they’re all right in the end.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

An Ode to Mom

Dear Mom,

How do you put up with me? Now I know I can imagine your answer, it would be something like “love is blind”, which I would find both sweet and insulting at the same time.  You have a way with words that I envy terribly, and I hope someday I can be half as good a writer as you are. You can use your power to make someone happy or make them roll around on the floor sobbing. Not that, like, I would ever roll around on the floor crying my sorry eyes out. I’m more the type of person who drowns their sorrows in cookies. You know that.

You supply unconditional love and support to our family, and even when you’re mad because I’m constantly checking the score of the game instead of doing my homework I know that you’re only yelling because you want what’s best for me, and the Mets are definitely not that. Then again, you married Daddy; so you should have foreseen what you were getting yourself into. And although I yell back that the Mets are more important to me than homework, until they make the playoffs, they’re not. You’re right, you’re always right.

Every night when I’m in bed you come in and say the magic words, the words that one day I will repeat to my children, the words that are engraved in my mind and that I will never ever forget: “goodnight my sweet girl, may the gilgas dance and chomp in your dreams. I love you. See ya later alligator [I answer “in a while crocodile”],  in a while crocodile [I reiterate by saying “see ya later alligator”]. I love you”. Since we’ve been saying those words every night since I was a little girl you might think that the words are trivial and superficial to me now, but no. To me, those few sentences are the most important in the world. What’ll I do when I go off to college? Tape a note to the wall with those words? Nah, that doesn’t work. I guess I’ll just be the girl who calls her parents every day before she goes to lunch. Whaaaat, lunch? Yeah, the time difference sucks.

Yesterday was your birthday. Well, by the time this gets posted it will have been two days ago. You asked for a floor cleaning machine. A floor cleaning machine? Really? Who asks for that for their birthday? It was pointed out to me that it really is perpetrating the stereotype that all women want to do is clean (THAT’S NOT TRUE BY THE WAY). Well, amongst much laughter, we gave it to you. My dad said that it was the saddest birthday present he’d ever given. But then again, I guess that just another of your weird quirks. We’ve agreed to name the machine Mega Maid, like in Spaceballs. Yes, you have contaminated us with your weirdness.

I love that even though you work as a freelance editor for semiconductor companies you know nothing about technology. Your iPhone is a mystery to you, and you will never understand why Siri doesn’t function in a crowded, noisy place. And yes Mom, you do look like a crazy person, talking to your phone all by yourself. Since you’ve discovered emojis every text message you send is accompagnied by a thousand hearts of different colors, which is both terribly embarrassing and adorably lovable at the same time. I love that your ears have never been subjected to Justin Bieber and that you don’t know who Ryan Gosling is. I hate that you’re a Red Sox fan. Sorry.

I don’t know what I’d do without you. What if, all that time ago, you hadn’t made it past the operation table? What if we’d cried tears of sadness and despair instead of tears of joy? I can’t even bear to think about it. Today I worry about your worsening attention deficit, your memory loss, your eyesight. I worry because you’re my mom. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you.

I love you.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

The Versatile Blogger Award (<– Whaaaaat)

Holy cow on a cracker, I’ve been nominated for an award 🙂 I figured I might as well do it so my awesome audience can know a little bit more about me! Or they might just, you know, not care. I’m taking a chance on this one! I have to thank the lovely Attempting Reality for nominating me, you guys should check out her blog, it’s funny, quirky and generally amazeballs amazing.

Here are the rules:

– Display the Award Certificate on your blog (with great pleasure)

– Link back to the person who nominated you (HA, I would have done that anyway, she’s awesome)

– Present 15 awards to 15 deserving bloggers (I’ve only been blogging for two weeks, but I’ll try!)

– Leave them a comment to let them know after you have linked them to a post. (on their ‘about’ page?)

– Post 7 interesting things about yourself. (crap. 7 interesting things? that many?)

OK, so 7 interesting things. Suck it up Confused Teen (I would put my name, but I’m conserving anonymity on the big bad Internet), and think. In case you were wondering, yes, I often give myself pep talks. And if you weren’t, well… well… I have no words. Anywho, here goes.

1. I have a weird obsession with cookies and sports. Have you noticed?

2. I was born in the same clinic where the French first lady (at the time, Carla Bruni) had her baby and passed it everyday for years on my way to school. I feel special right? Not.

3. I lived in San Francisco from the age of 2 months to 6 years. Because our (pink) house was in West Portal on a hill where it was always foggy, my mom would bundle me up in sweaters and turtlenecks before school in the morning, only to go down into the valley to find that the sun was blazing and it was sweltering hot. Ironically enough, she didn’t stop doing that when she found out about the weather differences. Now I’m thinking she was out to get me.

4. I have never spent more than 3 years in a school, and I won’t before college. I always held it against my parents that we moved around so much, but now I realize that if we hadn’t, I would have never met all the amazing people that are in my life today *dabs tissue daintily against eye and blows nose like a trumpet*

5. I never eat much when I’m not home, but when I am I eat waaaay to much. I then feel guilty about it, and eat some more. At this point I usually get called out to play baseball or football because my mom has noticed that the chocolate chip cookies are all gone and since she’s convinced that a future of lying on a couch eating chips like Honey Boo Boo’s mom awaits me, she feels responsible to ensure that I move around enough. I appreciate her motives, but as a naturally lazy person, I say ugh.

6. I’m claustrophobic, which is one of the reasons that I love the countryside, convertible cars and Field of Dreams. Although it does kind of piss me off that I can’t go in the tube slides at the water park. I wonder if you feel like you’re processed food going down the intestine when you’re inside.

7. I am a perfectionist. If I don’t position my toothbrush exactly right in its holder, I feel like it’s calling me to come back and arrange it again. On second thought, maybe I’m just crazy.

There, if you had the courage and perseverance to read all of that, you now know 7 things about me. I’ll nominate 15 bloggers, and even if they don’t take up the challenge, I think it’s cool that you can see their links and check them out!

http://thehowlingfantogs.wordpress.com

http://questionableradioactivity.wordpress.com

http://floodedroses.wordpress.com/

http://mydaysasme.wordpress.com/

http://mishal99.wordpress.com/

http://keepitcalmandcarryon.wordpress.com/

http://gammagamification.wordpress.com/

http://acuriousgal.wordpress.com/

http://theworldoffluffiness.wordpress.com/

http://smalltownbear.wordpress.com/

http://longlivethemouse.wordpress.com/

http://rejectreality101.wordpress.com/

http://sarahdiariesblog.wordpress.com/

http://iamtoofree.com/

http://curlysblog.wordpress.com/

I’d also like to point out http://girlwiththesilverlocket.wordpress.com/ and http://collegesportstown.com/ as great blogs to follow.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I didn’t hyperlink the nominees because I’m too lazy. Just thought I’d clear that up.