Tag Archive | Friendship

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.

Being a Lady

I take a huge bite out of the greasy sandwich I’m eating, instantly hiding it under the table, pretending that I don’t have food in the no-food school library. The librarian shoots me a glare that would make a bloodsucking mountain goat recoil in fear, but at this point all I can think about is eating before my afternoon classes start, so I shoot him my sweetest smile, completely forgetting that my mouth is full of tomato and cheese. His eyes widen in horror as I quickly gather my books and dump the rest of my lunch in the trash. As I pass the front desk I stub my toe in the doorframe and utter a string of swear words as he chuckles and looks away so I don’t see him laughing at me. Yeah, as if. Nice try dude.

Being the perfect lady has never been a particular goal of mine, but as I progress through life and have people say things like “No spitting contests. They’re so unladylike.”, it does force me to think of what being a lady is all about. So, without further ado, here is The Mostly Confused Teenager’s guide to being a lady.

#1: Be Respectful of Others
Some would call this first rule “be kind”, however I tweaked it purposely because in my humble opinion life would be a complete drag if you couldn’t tease people just a little bit. I guess that you could just implement the rule that teasing and ribbing (are those the same things?) are fine up until the point where you’re causing pain through your words. Now now, I can already hear your cries of protest: “CT, laughing at someone is always wrong!” Well, yes; but my wise sixteen year old self knows that some relationships are based pretty much purely on insults and fake-loathing and that those friendships are worth everything in the world. So in a short, babble-free resume: teasing = OK, one-way insulting = well… guess. Bad (duh.)

#2: Make Your Own Choices
You all know the meek “we can do whatever you want” type. I’m not talking about normal polite people who can easily go with the flow, but rather people like my mother. I love my mom to bits and would without a doubt jump off a cliff to save her (although I’m not sure in which circumstances this would ever take place), but she annoys me to no end by having no particular opinion about most anything. Ladies, if you want to do something, as long as it doesn’t involve insulting nuns in their presence, go ahead! Being a lady means being a person, and being a person means standing up for yourself and for what you believe in.

#3: Respect Yourself
This suggestion ties in with the previous one. A lot of people would say that being a lady entails having perfect hair and makeup at all times, having the posture of a telephone poll and dressing like a 1950’s housewife. I think that that’s cow poop. The basics are hair that doesn’t have capybaras living in it, a face that doesn’t look like a grizzly bear gave it two black eyes and no bikinis (or equivalents) in business meetings. Other than that, do whatever the hell you want, within reason! Respect yourself and, generally, others will respect you.

In short (yeah, ironic I know), being a lady means being yourself. There are no 100,000 commandments to obey to the letter; there are only a few guidelines to follow. Swear, get sweaty, eat pizza with your hands and get it all over your face… And most of all, have fun. Otherwise, what’s the point of being anything at all?

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

PS: On the 3rd of August 2014, TMCT turned one. Happy Birthday to the best little blog this girl could wish to run!

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.

 

 

 

 

What do I do with my body parts?

Now before you go all “ew” and “gross” on me, give me a chance to explain. I went to a concert on Saturday night and realized that while everybody else seemed to have no problem moving groovily (isn’t that a fun word? groooovily. Ahem.) to the beat I looked like a hamster having a heart attack.

If you’re only here to see CT make a fool of herself, please skip to the word COOKIE. Otherwise, please enjoy the foreplay. *clears throat*

See, a friend of mine is in this rock band and they don’t often have gigs so I try to go when they’re playing. What you have to understand is that I am not a person who generally goes out and is social and dances and manages to look hot doing it (gaah, why does everything I say always sound so wrong?) . Anyway, even though the ‘orchestra of my colleagues’ as my friend’s dad called it, was playing on the other side of town, I went out of friendship and because I had nothing else to do. Well actually the other choice was getting drunk in a park while it was raining. Obvious choice no? For me at least.

The 20th arrondissement of Paris is not a great neighborhood, or at least the part that I was in wasn’t. My friend and I went together, which I’m grateful for because I never would have gone on my own. The club that Black Crown Falling was playing in (check them out on YouTube, they’re awesome!) was more a bar with an improvised stage than anything else. To tell you the truth, it was scary place. It smelled of alcohol and smoke and it was a dark and stormy night. Washington (my friend) and I stood outside in the pouring rain for an hour, too nervous to go inside because the screams that were emanating from the room made it sound like there were flamingos getting slaughtered (yeah you guessed it, the band before BCF was a heavy metal group).

We finally gathered our courage and went inside when BCF started playing, and I’ve gotta say that I was honestly really enjoying myself until I noticed that other people were nodding their heads and tapping their feet while I was standing there, stone still, looking like an awkward giraffe. I got worried that it might look as if I didn’t like the music so I started stomping my foot in rhythm. Bad idea; it just looked as if I needed to pee. Next I started moving my head and ended up portraying a person in epileptic shock.

COOKIE

We were standing in front of the stage and since the band played for 40 minutes I took it as a bad sign that I started getting pins and needles in my legs 5 minutes into the concert. Because of this every so often I would hop up and down a little, switching legs. And where was I supposed to look? Looking straight at the singer made it look like I was strangely fascinated with him (which believe me, I am not). I tried looking at the guitarist’s little brother, who was watching his idol with a proud look on his face, but that made me seem creepy. So I looked at the wall for most of their playing time, trying to seem like I’d mastered the vague mysterious attitude. I didn’t, and that was pretty obvious to EVERYONE.

Finally I didn’t know what do with my arms. I tried crossing them but that was too arrogant and “f*ck you”-like. I put them behind my back but that made it look like I was some stuck up teenager waiting for the torture to end. In the end I just swung them back and forth like a deranged robot, occasionally hitting people accidentally. Yes, that’s the option that I chose. If you had a better solution, I wish you could have been there to tell me.

So I was the awkward teenager, sopping wet, knocking people over with her disproportionately long arms, jumping up and then down again every few minutes, eyes shifting from place to place, head rolling around in perfect disharmony with the music. Luckily for me I realized that Washington was having trouble controlling her limbs as well, which made me feel less alone. But tell me, good people of Apricot Land, what was I supposed to do?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager

PS: Today I’m apparently fixating on animals. Hum, tomorrow it might be kitchen tools, who knows?

A Festival of Sobbing

I’m a very emotional person. <– that sentence is very hard for me to utter, because it’s like admitting that I’m not totally in control of my feelings, and as you might have gathered, I tend to be a control freak. The fact that I even have feelings may come as a shock to some people, because from the outside I sometimes look like an emotionally unavailable zebra (is that an insult to zebras? If you are a zebra and are offended, please accept my sincere apologies.).

The fact that I retreat to my inner protectivd shell as soon as anything bad happens can be taken badly. Last year my uncle was in a horrendous accident and for a week we hoped and prayed that he would stay alive. My mother and my brother both cried when they heard; I stayed silent, seemingly unperturbed. I got a couple concerned looks from my dad as I continued to act as if everything was normal. But inside, inside I was on fire, hurting in every sense of the term. However I did recognize that I needed to open up somewhat and promised myself that when I started my new school in September, I would be more liberal with my feelings. Thinking back now, the only time I really lost it when I was little was each year at Christmas when we watched Frosty the Snowman. Even though he comes back, it’s still heartbreaking to see him melt. To this day I have trouble with snowmen.

When my grandfather passed away in the spring, I realized that I was evolving. I was crying, and it felt bloody good. Of course I only allowed myself to show my grief when the rest of my family wasn’t around for fear of increasing theirs, but I was mourning in my own way. Now I’ve let myself take a lot more freedom with my emotions, letting my tears bubble over and sobbing hysterically when I watch the end of Star Wars Episode XI (can you believe they’re making another one? Geez.), alone in my room, surrounded by tissues.

I also, like most people, can cry of happiness. That kind of crying is very much easier for me to do in front of other people for one reason or another. For example on my birthday this year my awesomesauce friends, the best in the whole Universe (sorry if you thought yours were, cause they’re not, mine are :)) threw me a surprise birthday party. They made me one of the best cakes that I have ever tasted and a giant cone of cookies with caramel drizzled on them. Heaven. Seeing this blatant display of affection I immediately started to blubber like a walnut and felt like an idiot when half an hour later, when all the pictures and videos had been taken, I realized that my makeup had run (run awaaaaay! Right, sorry) and that I looked like a half ass raccoon.

I wonder what the future will in terms of letting my emotions show. Frankly, I’m ready to accept just about anything, as long as it doesn’t involve sobbing profusely on the street because I don’t have enough money to replenish my chocolate stash.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: The evolution towards emotional availability may also be caused, in part, by PMS. Who the hell knows.

Paris by Night

Paris. A legendary city, in more ways than one. I assume that if you’re in a couple, walking through the “City of Love” at night under the twinkling streetlights on the small cobblestone alleys may seem very romantic, but since I am forever alone, I can calmly say 1) keep your mushy feelings to yourself, they make me quite jealous and 2) it’s a lot scarier when you’re all by yourself and those twinkling streetlights look like they’re winking creepily at you.

When I was little I was, like most kids, afraid of the dark. Thinking back this may have been due to the excessive amount of Calvin and Hobbes that I read before bed, where the whole “monsters under the bed” thing scared the sh*t out of me. As I grew up in Normandy I slowly conquered my fear of the black void that filled the room when my mom turned out the lights. I started being able to go outside all by myself and soon discovered the magnificence of Normandy/the countryside at night, the stars shining down on me reassuringly, the dog at my side. With no neighbors, there was never any threat, any danger.

Paris proved to be a very different experience (dare I say, duh? No? Okay then). I couldn’t see the stars anymore, there were no more familiar constellations guiding me, only the cold eery glow of electricity. For the first few years I didn’t know much of Paris at night, being occupied mostly by being awesome too young. But now, a junior in high school, I’m allowed to go out and only come back around 1 am. My family, being too busy with stuff like yelling at each other for no good reason, doesn’t care if I don’t come back for the night at all. As for coming to get me so I won’t have to make the journey alone? No way. Confronted with this apparent lack of caring, I started fending for ME and walking myself home.

Nonetheless, it’s spooky to watch all of your friends leave with their parents in safe warm cars and knowing that you have to walk all the way home, your awful (they really are terrible) self-defense skills being the only thing keeping you from potentially being mugged. And of course the only story you can think of is of the girl who got mugged on your street a few years back.

As I left my friend’s tonight, I shivered slightly even though the temperature was still high, and set off at a brisk walk through the deserted streets, trying to look (and feel) confident. I’ve become pretty paranoid, despite all of my attempts to be calm. Every person that I cross is immediately perceived as a threat, at which point I generally start running (bad idea?) only to then realize that it’s a frail old grandmother walking her poodle. Ah well. Paris is very different from, say, New York. The majority of French people go to bed relatively early, so you don’t see many humans out at midnight, though aliens abound. Even if you’re walking with someone or in a group, the atmosphere is very different, it’s hard to compare the Avenue Henri Martin in the daytime, a bustling, busy avenue, with the Avenue Henri Martin at night, tall trees casting shadows over the sidewalk, masking the faint light from the streetlamps. Night and day really are two different worlds. With sore blisters on my feet I ran most of the way back, heart pounding, clutching the bag from which I’d been careful enough to remove all valuables from. I took the trip one segment at a time, avoiding the smaller, darker streets, trying to blend in with my surroundings. When I finally made it to my apartment, forehead gleaming with sweat, muscles aching, I felt a singular sense of relief. I was finally safe.

Oh and look, my mom and brother engaged in a screaming match at one in the morning. Not so much as a look when I came in. How nice. Luckily for my insulted being, my amazing friends were kind enough to check up on me, making sure that I’d gotten home safely. I had, and I always do. Yet for some reason I get a little more scared each time, sure that I’m the perfect target. Despite all of this, I will not miss out on the wonderful nights with my friends. Whatever comes my way, I will face it, alone. And if it happens to be a threat, I will either willingly give up what they ask for or offer them a cookie as compensation.

The world is very big, and in perspective, I’m just a tiny speck of dust. As I finish writing this post, I find myself feeling more confident. To be fair, I’m also sitting on my couch, blocking out all high pitched noises with a cup of tea. Nevertheless, this small speck of dust will do anything to keep from being blown away in the breeze, and, hopefully, will grow into something like a mothball in terms of importance and influence. I now realize that that isn’t a very good metaphor, and if you have a better suggestion, I will hear it willingly.

Also, when I have kids, no matter where they are or what time it is, I will always be there to pick them up and bring them home safely.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.