Tag Archive | love

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.

Charleston Shooting: Appearance vs Reality in the US

As an American citizen living abroad, I often have an idealized vision of my home country. I’ll defend its honor when people verbally attack it, I’ll stand with my hand over my heart during the national anthem. I love the United States of America, but what I love I now realize is only the tip of the iceberg of a truly messed up place.

When I wake up, 4000 miles away from reality, and I read that 9 innocent people were shot in a historic black church by a white 21-year-old, I feel physically ill.
So many times before, we’ve seen atrocities where children get shot and students lose their lives. And for each one of those occurrences, I feel sick to my stomach, I wonder how it’s possible for a person to be filled with so much hate, how someone could so recklessly take the lives of innocents and forever change the existence of the families of the victims. Each time, I am angry and sad, but filled with hope that finally something might change in the consciousness of the American people, in our hearts and in our government, and that something will be done to stop these senseless killings. Then, I forget. It’s a truth that I hate to admit, but that I must. After a few months, I stop remembering what happened to the children of Sandy Hook and the people of Aurora, as the stories gradually fade out of the media. Discussion changes to the threat of ISIS and of Al Qaeda, to how we can protect ourselves from the foreign terrorism we so fear.

Well guess what. Terrorism doesn’t only come from the outside. The FBI defines terrorism as “the unlawful use of force or violence against persons or property to intimidate or coerce a Government, the civilian population, or any segment thereof, in furtherance of political or social objectives.” When Dylann Roof allegedly told one of the victims “I have to do it… You rape our women and you’re taking over our country, and you have to go”, he had a social objective. When he told a survivor “I need someone to survive”, that survivor was most likely kept alive to tell the tale of that horrible day and reach a wider audience. By killing 9 and provoking fear in millions, Roof was not only committing a hate crime, he was committing an act of terrorism. We need to recognize this, and stop thinking that the only terrorists are people from different faiths and cultures, because by doing that, we’re blinding ourselves.

I studied the fight for African-American civil rights in History class this year. I dissected the demonstrations of white racism and thought about how far we’d come, how reformed the United States was. I thought that the acts of violence executed today were perpetrated by lone madmen, and that the very reason we couldn’t understand and couldn’t explain them was because they were isolated. But sooner or later, I have to face the facts: if the confederate flag has been flying on the grounds of the South Carolina State House since 1962, it isn’t so much a symbol of southern heritage as it is a constant insult to the African-American population of the state. Racism is alive and well in the United States, and Dylann Roof, with his Rhodesian patch, acted because of personal convictions that were nourished by a discriminatory culture.

This morning, I watched the families of the victims make statements to the gunman. Whereas I felt intense anger towards this perverted assassin of a boy, the messages in the courthouse were those of love. The daughter of victim Ethel Lance spoke to Roof, telling him that “you hurt me, you hurt a lot of people, but God forgive you, and I forgive you”. The granddaughter of victim Reverend Simmons stated that “hate won’t win”.  These people have lost loved ones, and yet still they are able to forgive the one that caused the pain.

As I sat, head in hands, watching Roof’s expressionless face on the television screen of the courthouse, my respect for those speaking deepened, and I knew that what those families were saying was true: love will prevail, but not automatically or because it should. Love will prevail because we as a people are realizing that we need to remember, need to talk, need to fight and need to change our country. Let’s not let another horrific shooting slip into the darkness of forgetfulness. When Jon Stewart says that “we’re bringing it on ourselves”, he’s right. But it’s the “we” that’s important. If we can bring acts like this on ourselves, then we can change. So let’s.

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

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 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.

It’s Just That Time of Year

Unfortunately I’m not talking about the holiday season (although the pumpkin spice latte is back at Starbucks!! It costs a third of my weekly allowance but it tastes so good. Oh dear I just went fangirly over a drink. I really need a boyfriend). I’m talking about the beginning of October, when the days are getting shorter, the weather getting rainier and the teachers getting crankier. This, associated with football season and the start of the MLB postseason results in students experiencing what I call the kangaroo syndrome. To explain briefly, the kangaroo syndrome chooses it’s victims by degree of addiction to movies and TV shows: once you have been chosen you will experience periods of nothingness (quite literally) before going into full blown hyperactive mode. It’s a familiar feeling, occuring every year since we realized that we actually had to study for tests (boy, what a shock that was huh?).

So today my morning consisted of an hour and a half math test immediately followed by an hour and a half french test. SO MUCH FUN RIGHT? No. My guess is that teachers, having been on a no grading hiatus for two months, are extremely thirsty to inflict pain on their students (penpal xx). So because of this grueling schedule I haven’t had much/hardly any/any time for myself and thus for the Mostly Confused Teenager to stop being confused about 4th degree functions and start being confused about other important things such as why her cookies are disappearing at such an alarming rate.

But do not fear, adoring fans of whom I have none, I am not forgetting about you guys! You people are my sunshine, my life, my soul… Oh dear I went rather too far with that didn’t I? Isn’t “moist” a weird word?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

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.

 

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.