Tag Archive | Holidays

A New Hope

2013MERRY CHRISTMAS! Oh wait, that’s past isn’t it. Hum… well, what comes after Christmas? The New Year, right. Ohmygosh 2013 is over already? How time does fly *takes southern accent and shakes head slowly like an old and wise pomegranate peel*

I spent the last evening of 2013 playing Scrabble. This is unbelievably unbelievable for me as 1) I suck at it, and 2) I don’t like it. Upon second reflection my dislike of the game may have something to do with my ability to play it. Anyway, I guess that it’s rather fitting, I’m seeing the year out the same as it’s been for the past 365 days: awful. Because of this I feel totally uninspired when it comes to talking about the past year, which is why I’m going to move right on to my hopes for the year to come. And that’s 2014, in case any of you have been stuck in a cave for a (very long) while.

Firstly, I hope that I’ll find it in me to write 2014 on my school papers. Every year it’s the same old deal: a student’s mind not having registered that a new year of scholastic failure is upon it, it tells the hand to write the year that came before. In my case I stopped registering the new year in 2010, so I still find myself having to angrily turn the 0 into some other number, so that it ends up looking like a potato that has felt the hard times and decided to suicide under the first backhoe that should come along.

Secondly, I would like to get my learner’s permit and be able to drive. My mom told me that on the day of her 16th birthday, the first thing she did was race (get it? no? let’s blame it on the New Year’s alcohol then.) down and register for driving lessons. On my 16th birthday I stuffed my face with cake and cookies until I was about to explode. I want to be able to go to my friends’ when I have homework to do, go shopping and spend all my money on things  I don’t need and finally be in a badass car chase that, while it will undoubtedly end with my licence getting taken away, will have been worth it. Hold your ridiculously cool sunglasses Blues Brothers, CT is coming to town.

2014 will see the start of my last year of high school, my SAT scores and my college applications. Dear Great Cookie in the sky, please make the scores stellar and the universities that I apply to accepting! (get it again? still no? damned alcohol I tell you) Otherwise I might be forced to disown you as my favorite deity. Now now, don’t be that way, you know that I could never actually do that. Still, 800s would be nice, and a get into Vassar and Tufts free card would be just peachy. Just… peachy.

Thirdly, I would awfully like my sports teams to be successful. For the Patriots, that starts right at the beginning of the year with the playoffs. I know that we’re not first seed and have an extremely small chance of winning it all, but let’s give ’em a run for their money anyway, whaddya say? Let’s knock Peyton Manning off his high horse. I’m now getting so worked up that I almost just took out my giant alligator named- uh, you don’t need to know. And also, let’s go Mets! 2014 is our year! Sort of, not really, hardly at all. Oh well, let’s go anyway *voice slowly descends ’til it reaches a barely audible whisper*

Finally, I have decided that 2014 would be a prime year to grow up. I need to become serious, lose the childish gullibleledniss (I just couldn’t end 2013 without making up one last word), the constant laughing. I’m going to walk around with a briefcase and be all business-like and no fun at all. If you fell for one word of that growing up nonsense, I highly suggest that you not allow yourself any cookies until next year. See what I did there? I feel so proud 🙂 No, I think I’ll continue being immature, making awful jokes, keeping a blog that is a great helper when it comes to procrastinating and enjoying every second I spend in the kind, funny world of the Internet (see Mom? nothing to worry about here) and making new friends in the most ridiculous ways possible.

Frankly, I don’t know who will read this. The holidays are a time when not many people find time to consecrate to their favorite pastimes, myself included. However to anyone out there who might be reading a silly 16 year old girl’s blog, I wish you all the best for the year to come, and I do so hope that you’ll keep checking in on old CT from time to time. If she doesn’t die from a chocolate overdose. She has been eating a lot of chocolate lately. In that case, checking in on her might be futile.

So HAPPY NEW YEAR, and for the last time in 2013:

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: And if you were looking for resolutions, I have decided that since I will without a doubt  abandon them in a dumpster where all the drunks end up tomorrow morning; it is not worth is to take the time to write them all down. Except for one really: eat cookies. The one New Year’s resolution I know I can achieve.

PPS: These are wishes, not resolutions. This basically means that when I look back at the end of 2014 I won’t feel so bad that I didn’t accomplish, um, well we’ll just have to see shan’t we? As a certain Doctor Who character would say… spoilers 😉

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It’s Still Summer

Dear Autumn, back the hell off. I’ve known people like you who might be nice in some aspects of their personality but who are just too pushy. I will remind you that summer is until the 21st of September, so until then I will agree with none of this cold windy rainy nonsense that you’re imposing on the good people of EVERYWHERE.

I was walking on the street today and a leaf fell on my nose. How about no? First of all, I don’t like things falling on my nose, it makes me sneeze, and I happen to know that when I sneeze I sound like a dying zebra. Secondly, it’s still summer!!

Now I know there’s a certain rivalry in between summer and you and I also know that you feel slighted because people prefer the former to you, BUT MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED BEING SO DAMNED IN OUR FACES WE WOULD LIKE YOU MORE! Personally I love the sharp wind and the start of the holiday season, but for Cookie’s sake, it’s still a month and a half until Halloween! Please, I’m begging you, let us enjoy the last moments of our dying summertime hopes as they are swallowed by school and work *shakes head sadly*.

And Heat-Miser, Snow-Miser; if you keep fighting over who controls France, I’m going to go over your heads and go straight to your Mother. You wouldn’t like that would you? [childhood Christmas reference :’)]

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager

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.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes *voice breaks*

Cookies :D

Cookies 😀

Sit back and listen to the tale of CT’s search for the Holy Grail. Um, wait no that’s not what I wanted to say, I’ve gotten too poetic-like after yesterday’s post. I meant “sit back and listen to the tale of CT’s botched birthdays”. See, it doesn’t even rhyme.

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve loved my birthday; it was always a day where I was the queen and I got to eat cake and open presents. I got a special birthday dinner, which, let’s face it, always consisted of pizza and everyone was happy, or at least pretended to be. I remember that my dad, who drove us the half an hour to school every morning, always fighting with me on whether it was better to have the windows open or the air conditioning on. Since he had control of the car he consistently won that battle, but on the week of my birthday, as a special present, I got to roll down all the windows and ride with my hair flying in the wind.

As I grew up things slowly changed, not only circumstances but people. I moved to Paris and those big birthday dinners weren’t really possible anymore. I still get to choose what I want but it has to be able to fit into our tiny microwave-oven which greatly limits the possibilities. My little brother and I evolved into teenagers and suddenly there was no assurance of a good mood on the special day. And then last year it all went south (I mean literally, the EABJM is south).

On the 5th of September 2012, 15 years after I was born, I found myself standing awkwardly in the midst of crowds of students who all already knew each other. It was sophomore year, the first day of school, and I was alone. I found the other new kids and started to panic when I realized that I was the only stranger in the group (–>Stranger Danger). I thought that maybe they all came for the same school but it was soon explained to me that there had been a meeting that all of the new students had attended, except for me. I wasn’t invited. Finally the headmistress (mistress of the head, sounds weird) got around to dividing us up into classes. Guess who’s name was never called and was left sitting on the cold hard gymnasium floor by herself? YES, it was me. If you guessed right, have a cookie, if you guessed wrong, do a math excercise. Mouhahaha I feel so evil, oh dear I’m choking. The result of this was that I went in late to my class and everyone stared at me. I tried awkwardly waving and they stared even more. It was a tough crowd. When it came time to pick up our school books, they didn’t have, of course, mine. When I told my French/homeroom teacher that I wouldn’t have my French book the next day she told me to either have it or get detention. I felt like crying. Luckily one girl saw my pathetic surface as worthy friend material and took me under her wing, although she talked so fast I couldn’t understand a single word she was saying. She’s now one of my best friends ever. All afternoon I buzzed around trying to find a way to get my books, which I eventually did. I’m just glad that that birthday didn’t serve as an example for the following year.

Yesterday, after my first (incredibly stressful) first day of school, when I got back to my apartment, my parents pounced on me and started singing happy birthday, they then asked if I wanted my presents right away or later. Looking at them in incomprehension, it dawned on me that they had gotten my birthday wrong. Frickin’ fantastic.

Now it’s early morning in France, and it’s officially my birthday. Happy Sweet Sixteen CT, let’s make it a good one.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The (finally 16 years old) Mostly Confused Teenager.