Tag Archive | Panic

DANGER WILL ROBINSON *faints in horror*

panicMy parents have discovered that I have a blog [shudders uncontrollably]. What will happen to the world? What will happen to the Mostly Confused Teenager? What am I to do? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

And so I sit here, at my computer, desperately wringing my hands, wondering how in Holy Hell they found out. Did someone tell them? Did I leave the page open without meaning too? Why, o lordly cookie, why? I saw that they knew when I was standing next to my Dad’s computer looking at pictures of Mets’ rookies in dresses (please, don’t ask) when my eyes inadvertently widened and a wave of ice washed over me as the pink background of my own special hiding place appeared in his most visited sites. I stared in horror as I realized that this was practically the end of the world for me. Well, not really, but nearly.

I held out a month and a half without them knowing. That’s not very good is it? I’d like to point out that there are some things on The Mostly Confused Teenager that are inappropriate enough that I would never say them in front of my parents.¬† I mean as far as I know, no parent would want to read a piece their daughter wrote about erectile dysfunction. And might I also mention that I swear, say weird things and swoon over boys on here. This blog contains my secrets, it’s a place where I can say whatever the f*ck I want without repercussions. Well, within reason (I’m sure that if I wrote that koalas are sweeter than pandas some of you would come forward and yell at me). Now, just writing the word “f*ck”, even though I’m hiding a letter, makes me feel all guilty, knowing that my parents are going to read it.

So what am I supposed to do? Suggestions are greatly appreciated, because here I’m at a loss here. Should I ask them to respect my privacy? I don’t think they’d go for that, since apparently they can already be qualified as snoops. Or hey, here’s a wild idea! Mama, Daddy, since you now know the secret identity of a certain CT, why don’t you say something?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Very Panicked Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: this is a very celebratory 50th post isn’t it?

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Bad Word Bad Word Bad Word Bad Word

‘Tis not long before school starts,

The panic sets in,

All my mind does is brain-farts, (such an ugly word don’t you think?)

Oh where is that gin?

Mommy.

 

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I know my poem sucked, you don’t have to tell me.

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.

How to Get Ready in a BIG hurry

For effing school.I don’t often oversleep, but when I do, it’s bad. This morning was the first time that I needed an alarm clock all summer and guess what moron slept right thru it and almost missed her train? My brother. Crap that doesn’t make any sense. OK OK it was me. During the school year I make sure to get up an hour before I have to leave, do nothing for 45 minutes and then dash around collecting myself in the last 15 minutes. Granted, I always end up arriving at school in a daze at the last possible second, but HEY! I MAKE IT.

Of course as the new school year is about to start I have made a whole lot of meaningless resolutions about not going on Facebook or checking the score of the game in the mornings, but I know full well that I’ll never keep them. It’s just fun to think that I might not have to run around like a madwoman tripping over dogs and getting attacked by cats because I look like one big glob of edible something or other darting about at the speed of light.

Here are my secrets to getting ready fast.

#1: Prepare your bag and outfit the day before

I’ve done this about… um… once, and it truly saves you a huge amount of time in the morning, if you’re willing to do it. Because I am a naturally lazy person, I am not. This refusal to comply with my mother’s constant reminders ends in the dismal fact¬†that I always forget something important and that nothing fragile can ever survive in my bag. Although to be fair that might also have something to do with the fact that I have two heavy rocks at the bottom of it. Why? I picked them up on a beach in Cassis and my friend and I swore our friendship over them. Yes, we were two crazy teenagers who took the rocks into class and wrote our names on them. Deal with it. As for the outfit part of this suggestion, I generally spend way too long trying different things on (first world problems right?). The best day is when I have nothing left but a top, a pair of jeans and a hoodie in my closet, at which point my selection becomes so much easier. So basically, if I don’t do my laundry I save time. My mom would love this. [Sheldon Cooper sarcasm sign]

#2: Things don’t go well if you decide to start making pancakes 20 minutes before you have to leave.

Especially if you’re still in your pajamas, hair shooting in all directions and eyes barely open. This has happened to me, because who wouldn’t want some delicious, creamy, sweet pancakes piping hot off the griddle before school? No one. Unless of course you are a person who promotes healthy living and eats a breakfast of fruit and yogurt (oh look Mom, you’re in the post again!), in which case you are an exception –> quick interlude here, how DO you do it? It sounds so… so… I can’t even find the words. Now some of you might have been blessed with parents who put an assortment of breakfast foods out on the table the night before; I was not, my parents are the “figure your sh*t out by yourself” type. The best bet is to know beforehand what you are going to have for breakfast so that you won’t stand around making a mental selection in front of the fridge for 10 minutes.

#3: Drink

Alcoholic beverages are not recommended, but a strong cup of coffee or tea might just make you look and feel alive enough to drag yourself through the house collecting your stuff before lumbering off to school/work. I must warn though that this pointer is not for everyone. By this I mean that if I drink coffee in the morning, I turn into a hyperactive panda with wide eyes who can’t stand still, and although being a panda can be quite nice, it’s best not to be one just before a big math test.

#4: Makeup, in perspective, is not important

For all the girls out there going “Whaaat?!”, I feel just like you, but let’s lay it out. Would you rather have your teacher humiliate you in front of the whole class while you wish you were home, in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie; or go an hour looking naturally weird before you can make a run for the bathroom? Your choice. I choose spending first period looking like a Confused Teen all while wishing that I was at home, in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie. It’s the best of both worlds.

#5: Keep your wits about you

The worst thing you can do is panic like I do. As luck will often have it, the morning when you need to get ready the fatest also happens to be the morning when you look like a lethargic chimpanzee. Whatever you do though, make sure it doesn’t involve running around in circles effectively doing nothing. This rountinely causes extra stress which frizzles my hair; yes, when I’m really stressed out it appears as if a bird made it’s nest on my head, bad breath (to my dismay I found out that a mint does NOT replace toothpaste), hyperventilation, choking on the piece of toast you’re trying rather unsuccesfully to shove down your throat, dizziness and even death, if all of these things happen at the same time. Keep calm and eat a cookie! Well, you might not have time to eat a cookie, but stay composed anyway.

Upon further reflection of these five suggestions I find that me myself and I, author of this post, does not respect any of them. And since I am the very model of horrible organization, I can only conclude that if one were to follow these rules, that person might actually have a chance of getting out of life alive. Hold on now, that doesn’t make any sense. If one were to follow these rules, that person might actually have a chance of getting out of the house on time without looking like a puddle of melted jello. Better?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: This post was inspired by one over at Parisianettes, check it out here: http://parisianettes.blogspot.fr/2013/08/getting-ready-fast-in-morning-for-school_25.html