http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/08/health/policy/08health.html?_r=1&ref=us

http://annarborchronicle.com/2009/11/04/school-millage-defeated-higgins-wins/

Well then.

Hoe-cake murder

Heyyyy I'm back. I guess.

So, I'll cut to the chase.

We have (as in concert band) our football game in which we march tomorrow! As in, my first real marching halftime thing. We've had about 3 weeks to practice, and had 2 awesome practices after school with symphony band. Concert band actually has a bit of freshman, and personally I think we're actually doing not too bad. I mean, we're not good persay but... we don't...suck persay.

100% chance of rain tomorrow - supposed to be 1 inch. A great way to start my high school marching career. But no really, we get to wear these awesome rain coats. We learned the dance in the middle of Thriller (Michael Jackson halftime show- so original, huh?) just two days ago, but I think we got it down. I sort of keep blanking out on things though. It'll be awesome though.

There are some spacing/aligning issues with the trumpets and french horns, but we just gotta take small steps. Stadium Drive (in which we high/glide step to the stadium) is actually quite demanding, but I'm really liking all the marching. Like seriously. I think c'est mon truc.

Then I've been trying to do a bunch of art stuff, like going to the local teen...place. And I'm planning on submitting photos to that thing, and also my school art- magazine thing. And there is much more. Busy busy busy.

So....yeah. This isn't that interesting is it.

Oh we had the MEAPs today. Considering I hadn't learned ANY U.S. history/other geography, etc last year, I actually think I did somewhat okay...I had to sort of guess on some of the questions though. I need to learn that stuff though. Soo much to do. Pressure. But not really. Life is good.

HEY! HO! HEY! HO!

left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
left...left...left..left...left...
etc
One two three stop
one two three DROP!

Oh yes, I am a band geek.

Peace and love, yo. Have a nice life.

October

Where's Summer B? by Ben Folds Five

Sea Legs by The Shins

High school is... you know, I think I can live with it. I've survived a whole interim, and already I can sort of see where it's going. And yet I keep saying "it wasn't as I expected it would be!" But maybe I can deal with it because of the soul reason that I sort of have to, that it's just my life, it's other peoples' lives, etc. And back to the college thing, I guess as a freshmen you should just do what you do and....wait. My dad's cousin's son, who is in college now, told me to "just remember that it ends" -high school being "it". There are just so many stereotypes and materialism and having/lacking "substance" and knowing things about people and actually knowing them. And experiencing that amoeba of hormones at Homecoming...

High school dances are overrated.

Ticket: $20
+losing my edge
+nice new pair of boots
+experiencing Pioneer dance culture
=somewhat anticlimatic

Well I have a bunch of homework. It's not that I've necessarily procrastinated (honest!), but my geometry homework (oh yes that's right, I switched to geometry. And am now left with the responsibility of doing like 5 hours of algebra on my own a week) is to be accessed online, but I...that is complicated. And then I need to write this short story. We have a week, well we did on Wednesday, and well you see the thing is I just often can't write effectively on weekdays. But then again, weekends are just asking you to procrastinate. But hey, I'll get it done.

Oh yeah, and then you know that photo exhibit I was gonna do? Well I should work on it more. But unfortunately, I thought I put all of my pictures on these discs, but upon putting one of them back in and viewing the pictures, only about...half the folders of pictures were there. And these were important ones. These were...that was a lot. I am very annoyed. I removed nearly all of my pictures from facebook, but technically anything you put on facebook stays there forever. So that gave me a good idea; perhaps I could coax those precious pixels from their creepy, over-manufactured hands.

I really really need to practice trumpet. I am really liking marching though. Our show is only like 2 weeks away, and we've only learned two formations. We've been having to do a bunch of fundraising lately, and just had the car wash yesterday. It was rather fun, actually. But I'm getting sort of tired of asking people for money. We are going on tour this year though, and need moneyyyy.

And I need a H-ween costume. Dang I am so busy. But I'm liking the difference it makes.

Current Operation: DFTBA

HIGH SCHOOL.

Yeah, I guess I felt like "checking in". So it was my first day of freshmen year. Pretty intense. I'd tell you all the details but... well really I could, it's not like I have homework or something. I guess it wasn't what I expected. Some would say I had high(er) expectations. But I'm excited to do the band over at Pioneer tomorrow. And after reading Obama's speech, it actually did get me pretty inspired to do all that "work hard/do your best" stuff. I mean, just day after day... sure I want to go to college. But I also enjoy living in the now. High school is only just a bit obsessed with the idea of college though. Which makes me so disresponsible phrasing it like that, but aren't I supposed to have that attitude? Not that I do. Okay. Let's just... peace and love. And to the tune of Marry Had A Little Lamb.

Just Some Stuff

You ever have one of those days where you do everything right? Get up before the alarm, maybe take a nice hot shower, but that's not too long, really brush your teeth in a way that would make the dentists proud, say good morning to more or less everyone, drink your coffee or whatever crap you have in a way that doesn't make people intimidated and yet boosts your self-esteem (like you could be in one of those Brad Pitt movies). Put on a nice outfit that doesn't need to be looked at in the mirror for several minutes before going out the door, not slamming it of course, smiling and greeting the rising/risen sun with a reverence that suggests woodwinds in the background, say hello how are you to people and really mean what you say, looking them in the eye. Make those "healthy choices" you always read about in your middle school health book- choose water over Coke, etc. Do the dishes/load the dishwasher, start the laundry, vacuum, whatever. Turn in your homework, don't lean back in your chair, make a nice salad, practice all of your scales, put back the silverware in the right place, do the dishes before watching TV. Etc. Etc.

Well I know I haven't. But someday I think I should.

Life has been going on, and I guess the only real news I have is that I helped organized/participated with this rally/demonstration me and some Quaker friends and other people had in support of Obama's health care reform plan with public option. There are a few articles about it on the Ann Arbor website and Chronicle, and it was actually quite awesome. I was one of the 4 teenagers there, and it was sort of funny one time when Lori, one of the Quakers helping us, came over to say, "It's so great we have young people here with us- people always listen to young people!" This, of course, is not true. And you know what I said? And you know what she did? "Well, actually that's not necessarily the case-" and Lori had walked away after about the first word. Hannah said she'd put that as one of her facebook quotes.

Anyone that's alive should really read Lance Armstrong's autobiography, entitled It's Not About The Bike: My Journey Back to Life, co-written with Sally Jenkins. I picked it up at Powell's bookstore in Portland (best place ever, man) and although you might not realize it, it can sort of change a person. Just...just read it.

School in a week. Actually I'm sort of excited. I mean, no sense really regretting it, it's gonna happen and life goes on. Redundant, eh?

Biking down W. Washington, the sun at that point where the day is nearly done but just wants to get its last kicks out, the late-August wind in my face and billowing out my sweatshirt, the best adjective to desribe it all was "alive". Ahead, a bustling downtown of a place I know and love, light still punching out. Cement wizzing below, a lawnmower humming. The sky at least two different shades of blue, and clouds...needing a metaphor. Even though you knew it would end, at least you know it's possible and you've been there. I think fall is one of the best seasons- which isn't saying much considering there are only...4. But still. I'ma liking it. Though it is somewhat...sad about the early leave changes and it getting too cold too fast. Sigh. Seriously you guys. And that's my best comeback to the problems in the world, really.

Oh and haha.

Oh! Didn't See You There!

Uh yeah, I haven't updated this thing for more than a month. No one on chat, it's late and I should really be in bed, but that's just teenagers for ya.

Ummmm went to Portland, which was amazing. Then Band Camp, which was just fantastic. And then I guess I've just been chilling. Saw Harry Potter. Oh and yes, I am aware I am not elaborating on these subjects- don't worry, I will sometime. Lots to say, as you know me. Everything just sort of happens and it's like... happening. And I want to know people. France just seems so...behind me. Yes, it has been almost 2 months...

Okay. Maybe I should just listen to Ben Folds Five until I zone out and give up on any late-night chatting and actually get some sleep; face tomorrow and my depressing but actually promising social life. Argh, practice trumpet. Argh, finish essay. Ugh, science sheet. Clean room. Update journal/blog. I need new iPod headphones, too. And my computer's clock is wayyy off. Friend in Iowa, worrying about appearance, went into Urban Outfitters for the first time ever.

So how's life?

Apparently It Happened

Hello world. How are you today?

I've been back for more than two weeks now, and, as you could tell, rather putting off that one blog post for a while. Oh, sure- I had spent pretty much the whole year planning it, pondering it, trying to come up with some sort of non-sucky one that would just sort of sum up everything... except maybe that wasn't even my intention.

Um, yeah I'm done. It's done. It's like... way in the past now. Way. I figure my brain had been thinking about that July 1st for a while (uh... like... a whole year almost) and just so ready to forget France and etc. and just... so then it happens and just like poof! all of it's gone. Sort of like a sprinter awaiting that gun shot and ready to boot out there lickity split. They've trained for the race, trained, trained, trained some more, and then everything's set on their motivation, them going straight out there, and then bang! You get it.

The plane rides weren't bad at all, and in fact it seemed like we were almost early on the last one. It was the moment you had always been waiting for, but then it happened sort of... casual-y. Or maybe I guess I just wanted to get the heck out of there so I didn't take time to make things slow.

Let's just say things are different since I've been back. Been going downtown way more and chilling with people and biking and all that.

And today, I got to eat lunch with someone I met on the internet. (Haha, I just really wanted to say that... it did happen though, and it was awesome.)

The first thing I ate when I got into the U.S. (at the Newark airport) was indeed a cheeseburger. There was this 1950's-like diner there and we had some time to not rush to the next gate. The people are bigger, and man the cars. Everyone speaks English too, and I still have to get used to that...

Not much culture shock at all though. Which I find strange.

And then tomorrow I am off to Portland for a wedding for a whole week. Then band camp later in August and just... yeah. It's like the internet sort of came to life though for me- seeing all my friends again and meeting a lot more. Converted my religion (Unitarian Universalist)- not anything like official, but that church is awesome.

I've got to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince like tomorrow. A lot of my friends have seen it already, but whatevz. I saw posters for it in Paris, which was cool. Should be awesome. But I need to read up on the series again 'cause I really only got to be a HP nerd last year. Yeah, a bunch of stuff happened last year didn't it. (Oh. I guess I never wrote up the Paris trip did I.)

Man, Michigan Stadium's gotten big.

Art Fair!!!

RADIO!!!!!!!

Borders!!!!!

In case there are still those loyal types of you actually reading this, I guess I could put some pictures here and... just... I could choose another theme. Like, Michigan... Footballness. I could explore American/ Ann Arbor culture. Or! I was gonna go on a bike trek with my daddy kins sometime just for like 2-3 days and it could be like a bike-dude blog. Suggestions? (Psh, yeah- I'm really just kidding myself into thinking people would actually continue reading this or even comment. I know.)

Whoa. I really did survive. Haha, I was about to put a countdown number.... uh.. -15?

My Fricking Breakfast

Oh, the stress. Oh, the excitement. Oh, the many boxes. Oh, the things left to be done. Oh, the not-exactly-last-minute-but-still-ness. Oh, the ohhhhh.

Our whole apartment (ours, not the whole building, mind you) just reminds me of someone moving. This makes complete sense of course that it would remind someone of that. Walls look naked, shelves are pathetically empty, fridge looks like it was ransacked by raccoons from the desert, crap on the floor (not...literal crap, but just general household crap), and this weird pit in your stomach but which is actually extreme excitement. Things are looking somewhat pessimistic, because apparently one can accumulate a lot more things than you would think in just a year. We already have filled 3 cardboard boxes with books and things that will have to wait till September for my dad to come back and get. For some odd reason, my mom decided that I can't use my backpack for a carry-on and insists we fold it up in a suitcase. And I'm having to share a different smaller suitcase for my carry-on. Gosh, where did my freedom go?

But of course, it might feel like you're brushing your teeth right after eating crackers now (one of my "metaphors" that I suppose is hard to explain- but just think about it- crackers generally cause much gook in between teeth, and then you have to brush them, but it's sort of awkward and hard and gah because there's just so much to clean. Get it?? I get it.) but in just about a month (perhaps a few weeks, but either way it's all just a snap of the fingers, a blink) it'll all be back to "normal" and we'll be "settled in". And stuff. So like, yeah.

I guess we all sort of experience that environment of your house/apartment/etc being cleaned and having to get rid of various doo-dads that you hung on for like 10 years because of unknown reasons. It's like there's this certain "moving season" for all of us. Then again, some people never moved. It's a strange feeling, and can really suck. Sometimes it rocks though. Take for example, if you were getting ready to fly back to your home after living in a foreign country for a year. Just an example.

Airports are of course more ugh now, but I just have to survive an 8-hour stretch over the Atlantic (during the day, so I don't have to somehow forcefully convince myself to try to sleep) and then about a 2-hour one to good ol' southeastern Michigan. Oh, yes I am fully aware of the concept of delayed flights, because if you remember right, our first one from Detroit about a year ago was delayed at least 2 hours from a storm. But hey, it'll just be a really really long day for me. Which is sort of cool if you think about it, considering I'm arriving in my favorite place of the whole spherical world.

We wake up at around 7:30, take the plane at 10, arrive around 6 pm France time, but which is really noon, and then 3 hours to Detroit is 8 pm, but which is really 2 pm, but of course you must add 2-3 hours for customs, waiting around, etc. So it's gonna be more like 4. 5. 6. I probably wouldn't mind talking about these things for the rest of forever, (I'm kinda excited. Can you tell?) but I suppose I should get back to packing. Sigh. Basically, as long as I arrive with clothes, iPod, camera and some books, it's all good. I can (probably) wait till September for most of that stuff.

Um and yeah. And then those last days are sort of hard on anyone, no matter what the circumstance. Well okay not really. But sometimes I just feel obligated or something to stare out the window and admire stuff more. Like, take it all in before I don't see it again for a while, or forever. But it's just sort of hard doing that, because you're just so used to seeing it even if you know you won't. Okay, there's mountains back there. Yes, the cars are smaller. People speaking French... pastry stores... people smoking... okay. Yeah, that same guy's walking down the street again. I hear yet another airplane take off. Nice chocolate croissant, but I feel like I've tasted these before. Yes yes, the mountains- I know I know.

Because really, at a certain point, maybe you should/can just say goodbye. Just turn your back. Been there, done that. People said it was such a "great opportunity" and my mom kept saying "people would kill for such an experience", but okay, I'm a lucky person and life is good, and no one was actually pressuring me to enjoy it all, even though I sort of felt like they were. Yes, I have learned life lessons. Yeah, it was worth it. Yes, I made friends and ate good food and went to a lot of places and learned lots of French and wrote some and took pictures and climbed mountains. No, I do not regret it. Yes, I did miss some things, and will miss things from France. Yes, I was redundant and continue to be. Yes, maybe I spent too much money on CD's. No, I do not like roasted squirrel. Yup, I need to say goodbye to my friends and give back some music. No, I did not do all the things I thought I would, but there's still lots of time. Yes, I am looking forward to seeing my friends again and doing cool stuff (why do people keep asking me this when we say we're going? Isn't this clearly agiven? I mean, come on!). The works.

Yeah um yeah. Yeah.

Stuck in a Tree

Today was that big day. Well, one of them anyway. It was that big day that would always go over in your mind, be forgotten, come back till it makes you sick, and then finally just... happen. Maybe I'm exaggerating. It was packing day, 4 days ahead of the flight, and it was pretty up to snuff. I dunno what it is though about packing, but it always seems to have this certain uneasy feeling go with it... knowing you're changing your surroundings, maybe forever, having to disrupt your "old" lifestyle and all... and also it's just sort of tedious.

I brought my iPod and the speakers into my room and at first just listened to some awesome PotterCast and this other Harry Potter-related podcast. Then GuyinaTie, and then some Beatles and Ben Folds (Five). I was not unfamiliar with the concept of blasting music, and took full advantage of this. I also had tons of fun lip syncing and *cough* maybe even some singing *cough*. The neighbors didn't seem to complain. My iPod battery is getting quite low though I must say.

I managed to get my main suitcase done, at just under 50 pounds to be safe. Then I have a backpack which has lots more space, and my trumpet. I also partially-filled another suitcase. Turns out I have rather a ton of stuff; books, way too many CD's, baseball/hockey cards I never used, and clothes. And then I still have clothes being washed right now. We have about 2 and a half -shelves worth of books, but we'll send them over anyway. My room is quite barren, and the only reason this isn't giving me that ugh-y queasy feeling in my stomach is probably 'cause, you know, I actually want to leave. It's sort of like when you were back in preschool or whatever, and you always had to clean up at the end. And it always seemed like you did a better job cleaning there as opposed to at home; just seems more organized and easier since you're not there at the time, which I guess sounds ironic.

I took a break after a few hours of packing/sitting there listening to music, and went out to "play rugby". I had read up a few basic rules from some rookie guide on the internet, and learned some stuff. In case you guys are ever interested, maybe I'll mention them sometime. The ball got stuck in two different trees from me kicking it, but obviously we got 'em out. The first time you'd never think would happen- I was a good ways away from the tall thick tree, and somehow it went to the left, bounced on two branches, and settled in a slightly indent. I ran to get the football and we jammed it out.

I guess the whole 4 days thing is sort of hard to take in, but in a way it isn't because I'm kinda just chilling and taking it slow- like my French math teacher always mentioned in lessons: "tranquil". I didn't really properly say goodbye to my teachers nor my friends, but you can't do everything in life.

Yeah, Michael Jackson. To avoid getting me talking about it, just watch this video. It makes one feel ignorant (hopefully not) but just watch it. Sums up what I'd say. Seriously.

I've gots to email my high school, eat dinner, sleep, go to Pierre's house, eat, sleep, pack some more, eat, sleep, finish stuff, eat, sleep, wake up at like 8, go to an airport, get on two planes, and then collapse. In a totally worth it-it's over-yes-hug-etc. collapse, of course.

Four. For. Fore. Fuor. Forrrrrr. Fourrrrr. 4!

It's Official

Last days are always rather bittersweet. Normally it's just a last day of school, and chances are you'll see those people again. But then again, people tend to move a lot. Sometimes it's just plain tragic; different city, different state...different country even. But there's always next year, another row of daunting tired hands slamming on alarm clocks, hoisting a 15-pound backpack over shoulders and a slightly-abused confidence. People leave behind stuff, they move on, remember faces or not, go over memorable and harsh days, maybe on an airplane. IPod blasting a nostalgic song, staring out a window. Knowing you should be saying goodbye properly, but just wanting to get away away be done be done and not exist there anymore. But the fact that you saw that guy's shoe, said "pardon" to that girl, all a continent away from where you would be. Your existence has been conscience in these people's brains, maybe they'll randomly remember your face or your voice. The kids that muttered "Madame Eclair" (Mrs. Lightning) as I walked past them, walking my usual brisk pace. Passing the same shops, the same tables and chairs, opening those same doors, seeing the same faces, wanting to be gone. Sitting on the cement ledge and writing "what's on my mind". Needing to blog, being redundant, not writing complete sentences. 6 more days, done with the French school system probably forever. I'm aware that some teachers at least have access to this blog, so I sort of feel awkward mentioning how I'm in fact skipping half of today and Friday....and skipped Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I need to pack, I sort of just want to chill, listen to music...

Oh yeah- Paris. I wrote a few pages about it in my journal, might get around to typing at least some of it up... but as I have in the past, I haven't. Lots of pictures. Countdown!

So Fast

Another day, another week-end come to an end. It was a good one though, and I know you'll get tired of me saying these things, but only one more left actually. Zach is, as I believe I have mentioned, actually leaving tomorrow and all. It seems sort of weird, and in a way I am kinda envious. Then again, it's just 2 weeks to sort of just chill out and attempt to "enjoy". We went out to the Ferney pizza place (I also ate my first snails there), raindrops starting to plummet as we walked back. Zach seemed rather joyous today also when we went to the Geneva beach, which proved to be somewhat nostalgic.. and cold. We hadn't been there for at least a year, and it's sort of one of those defining places for me and France (well, as in a trip to France even though it's in Switzerland). He's probably really excited. I would be. In just under 48 hours, these tan and red-colored chalets and modest cars, snotty accents will be American office buildings in downtown Ann Arbor, the cars more abundant and large, the people with annoying American accents, things way more familiar and hitting you in the fact constantly with memories and nostalgia, recognizable signs and words, etc. 

Oh my. It's been so long. 17, so this is day 348 about.

Well anyway. I'm actually extremely tired, but I just... don't feel like existing in France anymore. Well, not quite yet. But just... yeah. Still busking in Paris, another hockey season, football, band camp, high school, writing, friends, places, home, trumpet, nerdfighters, band geek, getting a job...

I know I said it 100 days ago, and 50 days ago, and also 30 days ago at least, and I'll say it again, but

Dude, it's like actually ending.

Musicians

Only 2 ones after this, I told myself as I got ready to go back to school after a 2-hour lunch break. It was Friday again; they were coming fast. The funny thing was, everything just seemed so short, but then there was this large stretch of memory, and it was long. I only have 2 hours of class after lunch on Friday, and they went by pretty fast and uneventful as usual. The real highlight was after- the last FAT Friday. And then on Saturday I had the CERN music on the lawn festival.

Bringing my fully-charged camera and traditional Michigan gear, I walked down by myself at around 5:50 to the church. I could hear music right away as I got past the supermarket, and noticed one of those bouncy, filled with air devices. A drumset with amps and speakers was set up on a mild stage to the side, with current pop music blasting out. Kids everywhere, throwing water on each other, screaming in the hot sun. Earl and his friend were there, Earl of course bringing a book. We waved at each other and talked a bit. I didn't see many, or any, people there that I knew really besides them. Sure, I had seen pretty much everyone at school, but some were in high school or just from a different social group.

The interns of course warmly greeted me, asking me not unexpectedly, "I haven't seen you in months! What have you been doing?" and me saying I was busy. Which was true, really. The interns are really nice, actually. Most of them have English/Austrailian accents and are almost or already out of high school. One of them even revealed a wedding ring during a concert later on, saying they were getting married.

For some reason I just always feel really easy-going and social with people there, especially the interns. I talked with Larry (Illinois guy), which was cool. He seemed to be the same as when I had left. I also chatted it up with these two other girls that I see a lot at school. We talked about the school and summer plans. One of them was surprised that I described myself as "anti-American". She said she went to Singapore a lot and thought the US would be cool. I just gave her the "McDonalds, big, lots of stuff" ideas about why America was bad.

It was rather hot, so I put my sweatshirt in the bag-area. I hoped it wouldn't get stolen, but it was pretty unlikely.

Jess and the gang were hanging out in the other room, and we sort of said hi and stuff. The social groups got tedious, so I just went outside. People in barefeet passing by, sunglasses, good music, seeing the yellow from the sun; it was seriously summer.

The socialising continued, and we ate dinner. Grilled sausages, salad, the usual. I met another intern, who had longish curly black hair and cool sunglassed, and who turned out to be pretty awesome. She was the kind that made the younger ones, such as middle schoolers, feel awesome. Well, they all do that really, but she was just.... funny, talkative, etc. And she turned out to like classic rock like me, and she had even been to Ann Arbor. "It was a nice little student city. I liked that." she said. She mentioned school of course, saying it really takes gut/courage/some other similar adjective like that to survive at the international college; she'd gone there.

One of the Illinois (Larry's sons) interns named Dustin started playing guitar and singing on the stage, which was cool. It was just background music for now, but I went up to listen. He was pretty good; they had a whole family of musicians.

Then the real music started. First was Jordan Quinn, who I had seen at the Rock FAT. He played sort of more pop-y acoustic guitar and singing, but it was still good. He's high school age, and seems nice I guess. Ryan played a few songs, and even one with his older brother. They sounded great together, barefeet and strumming guitar chords. One of Ryan's songs was a Johnny Cash cover, but which some would say was a Coldplay cover. Apparently the former died before Till Kingdom Come could get released, so Coldplay "wrote it". Ah well.

I took lots of pictures and video, and the guitarist of Hallway Tussel, another band with Larry's youngest son the bassist, asked me to get good close-up pictures of them. Hot dog! I thought- being asked to take pictures of a rock band. Pretty much one of the best things ever. Unless, of course, you factor in the fact that instead of listening to the music, you're focusing on capturing them... but I didn't mind. I think I got some good ones.

The last music acts (there were really only three) ended, and we headed inside for what was supposed to be a photo mantage. Technical difficulties ensued, but we still had a tearful goodbye to a lot of the interns. It was sort of sad leaving, yeah, knowing I'll probably never see these awesome people again. Dustin asked for email addresses, and I kindly obliged. I gave Amy (English intern) a hug, said a somewhat misapplying "see ya" and went home.

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." -Doctor Suess

And then today, I just went to the CERN Music on the Lawn festival with Joey. It was fun, but I sort of wish we stayed longer. There was one French band, that attempted an English song (it was okay, but accent-y) and then the rest was English. I saw Steve Goldfarb's band of course (The Canettes) and it was all pretty awesome. I got ice cream, and sort of wished I was with someone I knew better. Or at least with someone; Joey didn't seem all that keen on directly listening to the music. But I'm still glad I went. TOP has started, and apparently THE REMUS LUPINS are coming tomorrow. I am so pissed, and yet estatic. I mean, just gosh. Just geez. Just some on. You've got to be kidding me. My friends just seem to... I mean, it just seems like everything awesome is happening but I'm not there.

My day was also off to a bad start after checking the Detroit Red Wings website. I don't feel like talking about it, maybe later. Just...ugh.

Still two weeks (and four days). You've got to be kidding me.

I need a haircut. And click.

Tuh-day

Another unfair, happenin' day, but only 20 or so to come.

It really started last week, when I could change my schedule for math speciales. If you forget, that is my 3rd math class which is basically to help with the French math terms and stuff. Personally, I find it pretty unnecessary. The teacher said I could take off the class Thursday morning, so I'd have sport.

Now, this might not seem like such a big deal to you (and really, it isn't to me either) but I just wanted to point out something with this particular example.

About 3 weeks or so ago, I could have changed my schedule like that, but I would have had to have a different class after lunch, which would actually make my lunch only 1 hour, which is not fun. I decided against this choice because it was rather a lose-lose situation. Sure, I'd get to play sport or whatever, but I wouldn't get to sleep in that day or have a longish lunch. But I did want to have sport, because they were doing rugby and I thought that'd be cool; we don't really seem to do that in the US.

So, okay, I thought all was lost for that opportunity. And then of course, that ol' "everything works out" thing came along (strange it should come along for this, when it implies that everything works out) and I could do sport and not have to shorten my lunch.

So there you go.

Anyway. The excitement didn't stop there, of course, as after I got over the fact that even if Claire and Emma weren't here (who would offer translations, stick by me for exercizes, etc.), well, Claire appeared, but instead of rugby the bilungual and possibly trilingual class decided on soccer. But actually, I'm just going to surprise all of you, possibly making you jump out of your seats and/or have to read the sentences over and over and/or scratch you head, and refer to this ball-kicking popular sport as football from now on. Or at least in this blogpost. So there- we played football. It's actually just "le foot" in French, which kinda cracks me up. Little do they know, they're referring to their pieds. Hehehe. No I know, it's not hilarious at all.

Three teams were chosen after a routine 5-minute run and stretching, and I was picked more or less actually last. But at least I got on a team in which everyone knew English. Claire and Olivia were also on my team.

You know, looking back, maybe some of my football-obsessed (or maybe to make it even more funny, I could say foot-obsessed; I'm positive you guys are just rolling on the floor laughing. rofl) friends/people I know back in them States would be envious of me getting to play with, like, real European/French people. Ugh, that's pretty racist. But no you see, it's just that... I mean... I guess... Europe is sort of more.. foot-based and stuff? I mean, sure, there are awesome players in America and stuff, but can't you see what I'm saying??? Can't you???

Me and this inacurately-called-in-the-American-area sport go way back. It even stops way back too. It seemed like soccer was all the rage when I was around elementary school age, and pretty much everyone played it. This ravenous obsession (which included the near-fatal injuries of my fellow classmates because of pure parent energy- no I'm kidding) continued for a while, but I got off the crowded, now competitive train before I could really register the memories. Several many others continued, but I guess it wasn't really my thing.

So anyway, I wasn't one of those hot-shot kickers/head-butters/sliders on mud/rip up your jersey and look like you're giving birth after scoring a goal people. I tend to hover around the defense area, and probably use all the wrong techniques/etc.

But actually, it was pretty fun.

A mix of French and English begs for the ball, international grunts, swearing and head-butting. Lemme tell ya, those football players are pro (well, the pro ones are) for a reason- they're fricking good, and they're pros. What I mean to say is, some of these guys were good. Not to be sexist (actually, one of my French and non-English speaking classmates mentioned this certain thing after a later proposed game. She was all "sexiste!" with a French accent. It was exactly what I do in those situations [in an American accent, of course] and I suddenly felt like some barrier crashed down between us in that moment [though I think she was rather unaware of this connection]. I should have given her a hug) but I guess it really was most of the guys.

The thing I noticed about defense was that it was....hard. You want to just jut your foot out to stop their mad, grunting rush while they grab your jersey and you can already hear the other people yelling their name for them to pass the fricking ball, but then of course they move. They always move.

They'll go where you don't expect it, and being smart, you expect this unexpected expection. But then you go where you in fact don't expect it, which is really where you do expect, and they then go where you don't expect it, but really it was where you did expect it, because it was where it wasn't. All this time, I stare down at the ball and his jumbling feet, and then there's this little put and he's gone.

Practice would cure that (un)expected stuff, I suppose.

There was one particular case of the strifes of being a defender, which to this day (well, it was this day) I go back through in my head. Probably because I still have one, as opposed to what could have happened if I should have changed my decisions.

The ball was way down there that-a-way, you know, the end where the defenders don't really go, and when the ball is there, they're in cross-fingers and then get ready for a groan or jumping up and down. The other team had it though, and one strong foot pa-tooted that circular object way up into the AIR and over to where I was. It was high- but it was the kind of situation where you look up, get your brain aquainted with the danger, and then after that rare silence of a few miliseconds where everyone, and I mean everyone, tilts their neck, and then it falls. You can make some decisions before it plummets down onto the muddy grass. It got close enough to do a header, and I wasn't putting that option past the ability of any of these guys. I heard some yells of "you can do it, such and such!" and such, and I tried to position myself so as not to be so entirely out of luck. There was a split second where I actually considered jumping up and making the ball meet my hairy, hard skull. I mean, it was right there. I had my head all ready, and I just had to...whatever. But then I thought, "Nah. I don't really want to get my head crushed" and the other guy got it.

Perplexing, I know.

To avoid further needless details about this football adventure, I'll then skip to the next few semi-happening parts of my day.

After my first FLE class (I had two in a row after sport), a cat suddenly appeared in the room. And when I say "appeared", I mean that when I looked down at the floor, even the mere thought of a cat being anywhere close was invalid. And then I saw people looking down and my teacher mentioning something about not having fear. So my brain, after making some thoughts, told me I should look down (or I told my brain to look down?) and there it was- this furry, thin, small, dark, cute little meow-ing kitty frisking away in that foot-padding way only kitties can do. Someone picked it up, and I of course echoed the ever-obvious question in everyone's minds, "Why the crap is there a cat in here anyway?" I said it in English to a friend, and I got the usual answer. But then she said, "people live here, you know". Yeah, I dunno either.

We put the cat outside, where it hid rather scared-looking under a cabinet with people stroking it and saying various things. Then class resumed, and after a while we heard these regular cries outside; poor cat. And then I heard something like barking. Just, strange. You just never know what you'll stumble on in these French schools these days, eh?

English math was then fun, which involved much laughing, distraction and not work. I won't go into details, because it was sort of that "well, it happened with my friends and was fun. And you probably weren't there" thing. And then the spanish teacher wasn't there, so after lunch I only had math speciales. Pretty good day.

Oh and also. Zach is actually going to leave (yeah, like going home home) by himself this Monday. My mom was all worrying about it, and I too find it kind of weird. But I'll tell you what, this school system's just too weird. The grades stop after tomorrow, so........ but then we still have two more weeks of school....... and like..... yeah..... logical.... But anyway. My mom and I have set up a Father's Day present for my dad by including him in our 3-day Paris trip. I even got my mom to like the idea of busking over there. I mean, street musicians! Woot! So we'll see. I'm excited. We're going next Sunday till Tuesday, so I'll miss some school. But whatever. That, my readers, is pretty much the anthem of teenagers everywhere. But I really mean it this time. [...]

I'll now stop exhausting you with my 20-days left in beautiful France crap and have dessert. I'm tired, annoyed that I'm still here (of course), excited, annoyed again. Just in case you wanted to keep tabs.

Whoa, that post took pretty much the whole of RHCP's Stadium Arcadium (Jupiter) album to write....

French Collisions

This has been quite a busy weekend, for me and my friends across the big blue sea as well. On Friday we had dinner with Joey's family (guy in my class who's American; I dunno if you remember me mentioning him earlier) at their house, which was cool. We had actually been to their house before at a birthday party for another CERN person- Steve Goldfarb's band The Canettes played. They have a big lawn and a stream flowing right around their well-sized house. We talked about CERN people, the eccentricity of certain physicists, the economy, Barack Obama, human tendencies, and other cool stuff. It actually really got me thinking at the end, and I was planning on doing some big blog post about all my thinkings. Maybe later.

Then yesterday, after much delay and me procrastinating on the computer, we went to a nearby medieval festival. To sum it up in one, over-used and expected word, it was awesome. French accents, people dressed up as knights and monks and fair maidens, music, horses, creepy peasants, food, etc.... it started pouring after about half an hour, and of course we didn't have an umbrella. I couldn't understand my family though- I voted we just walk through it, because it's going to let up in a bit, but then we can be drying off at our destination. But no, we had to stay there, for "five minutes" to wait for nature to be nice. Eventually it did end, and was a pretty nice day the rest of the time.

We passed through la forêt enchantée (enchanted forest) and saw a cool magician, group of flutists that played with a story involving some French kid and playing a flute and some sheep or something, watched some horse-riding stuff, this awesome parade, had roast chicken for dinner, passed by knights and whatnot and of course watched the jousting. They had some fancy shops open, selling real and wooden swords, robes, helmets, etc. It was all rather expensive.

They had quite an elaborate set up, with tents and stuff and stuff. Personally, I think medieval festivals are one of those best things ever in life. I'd like to volunteer in one sometime. It also got me inspired to make a medieval-based movie with my friends. Not the first person to think of this idea, I know. But it'd just be fun.

I really only have 3 weeks left. That is seriously nothing. 24 days today. I need to practice my trumpet, finish up my homework, and maybe work on some filming. Probably all too soon I'll have to pack and saying my goodbyes to this fine country, eh?

Today the computer finally decided it had had enough of my overflowing photos, so I decided to finally back them up on discs. It's fairly simple business, but I guess I get a little nervous about losing it all.

Some of the pictures didn't turn out so well because the stupid rain had to mess up my lens. Which was annoying. But I guess it still looks alright. At a certain point I was using two cameras-my mom's was good for action, fast-moving shots, but mine was better for long-distance shots. I stretched my battery life to it's very limit. But it was an awesome day.

Abercrombie and FILCH

Rectangle-shaped Ricola packages of many colors were strewn across the table, already topped with crumpled up, stale tissues. At least it was really almost the end of May, and I had a 4-day weekend. I decided to stay home on Friday because of a cold, and then we have Monday off. But as it turned out, the next 3 days were incredibly boring, redundant and lonely. I did, however, get rather obsessed with Wizard Rock, and just Harry Potter in general. I finally subscribed to PotterCast, and according to a facebook quiz, I am a Gryffindor. Ha ha- I love how the computer spelling system thinks that's a word. There's tons of wrock out there, and it's actually all rather great.

Until I stumbled upon this.

Well, I still like wrock of course, but that just... slightly infuriated me. But then again, it really shouldn't be that surprising. I won't go into any more of it probably, because that would take hours and is rather pointless, but just yeah.

I'd really want to go to LeakyCon. If you don't know what that is, it's basically a Harry Potter conference. Harry Potter-enthusiasts + nerdfighters + wizard rock + real live Youtubers and such. Plus like a dance and all that. The next one is in 2011 in Florida I think.

I really like The Remus Lupins, the Butterbeer Experience, the Parselmouths and the Mudbloods. There are lots more awesome, of course. The best wrock song is probably something like "Save Ginny Weasley" by Harry and the Potters, the first wrock band. I mean, some of them are actually rather talented musicians. Although I do admit that maybe limiting yourself to just writing about books is sort of.... limiting. But then again.

When I come back, I just have this dream of like having a whole bunch of wrock and nerdfighter albums. I have a looonnnnngggg CD wishlist, which I guess some would say is rather unrealistic. At least I'm not obsessed with something like....buckets.

So anyway. It would appear that this Year in France thing is really actually going to end. On Monday, there will be exactly one month left. And there's like 49 days left till the 7th Harry Potter movie. Or something.

For some reason, sometimes I just think I should forget other stuff and just focus on a few things, a few hobbies, and just sort of soak up all of that thing, just fall into a huge vat of it, and never really have to think about anything else. Just listen to wrock all the time, read Harry Potter, and other books of course, and just... yeah. Contacting our inner geek.

This is actually Sunday. 31!

There's Just Something About Cut-Up Apples

Anita, my mom's friend from London, is visiting now, which I probably mentioned before. We went to the market on Saturday and saw a quartet (clarinet/soprano sax, banjo, interesting finger drums, bass) playing near the Voltaire statue. They were pretty good; had a jazzy sound. The drummer had these metal caps on his fingers like when you sew, and then rubbed them on this washboard-type thing, and had some cymbals. It was pretty effective. On the way back we noticed a bar/cafe which had music playing earlier, and asked when they had shows. One was that evening, but we missed it after a hike.

We went to the same place as where we went when my aunt Heidi and her friend were here, but also first stopped by this big waterfall. It was massive and very wet. We also got some considerable warmth. I got up pretty close and got my lens quite wet.

I tried my first diabolo menthe drink, which I had always learned about in French class but never dared a sip. I first used the word "toothpaste" to describe the very neon-ish green flavor, but Anita offered a better word; mouthwash. It was minty, alright. But not like kill-your-mouth mint.

On the way back from the hike we talked about the different English/American cultures, accents and Harry Potter. I noticed that the English would say, "to go to university" without adding the article, whereas we would use that same formation for "college". It was vice-versa. I mentioned that I thought American accents were really annoying, and Anita said, with her signature laughs after, "Agreed," Harry Potter is also a big thing over there, too, which I guess isn't even a slight surprise at all.

Today we went to the beach in Annecy, a nearby French town that is superbly beautiful. It was just so hot today. Several many other people had the same idea, so it made for a very early summer scene. We rented a paddle-boat and swam around.

So, a pretty good weekend I'd say. I have my math finals soon though later in the week... have to write an English essay on Twelfth Night, a trumpet exam on Wednesday (I play my audition music, so good practice for the real audition) but you know, life goes on. And The Shins are awesome. I should probably really do something interesting for the rest of these 38 days, or this blog is gonna get... even more redundant. Which in itself is redundant.

Angels and Demons is out, at least in the US. It's made quite a fuss over at CERN, which is to be understandable. I should see it. That and Rent. Things things things to do to do. The future, sure.

Blind to the last cursed affair pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed till the sun turns into wood dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting love.

(The Past and the Pending by the Shins)

Buttered Hope

"Just think about... strawberries. It's plastic!" I grinned over at Valen-Claire, my "lab partner", as she leaned over the white basin with a sickened expression on her face, prodding the soft legs with the shiny silver tweezers and knife.

"Ewww!!!!" she shrieks, and I glance at the poor frog. "It smells so bad!" She backs away, putting her hand over her mouth and laughing, and we both wrinkle our noses. 

"I know!" I said back, knowing I recognized the smell from somewhere, but wasn't sure exactly where. Towards the end of the dissection, I suddenly remembered that it was the same smell as my elementary school hot lunches. Gross.

I thought I wouldn't be able to handle dissecting the lower body of a French frog in SVT class today, but it went okay. In fourth grade, we had to dissect a lamb's eye, and I had to leave about half-way through to go into the hall with a queasy feeling. I just hated the smell, the look of that skin, the veins... Another student also had come out, and we kinda talked. My dad actually cut himself while being one of the volunteering dissectors, but he was okay. It was just a small cut on one of this fingers. He laughed.

If you hadn't found it out already, we're now studying the nervous system in that class. This slightly annoys me, because I kind of like already did it just last year. Which isn't to say I'm an expert at all of this, but still... good review I guess.

This has actually been a rather exciting week. On Tuesday, I had to sing by myself in musique class. Everyone had to do it, but I was just one of the last people. But actually, I hadn't even been all that freaked out by it. I figured the teacher didn't really expect much of me (me being in FLE class, etc) and I could at least try, right? And I mean, at least when singing with the whole class, I didn't think I was like... soooooooooooooooo terrible. I was only soooo terrible. 

But alas. It was harder than I thought. At first I was going to come up with my book, but then the teacher (Monsieur Pils) said I could do without it. I couldn't hit the notes really, my accent was probably horrid, and I didn't really have enough air. He kept telling me (and everyone else, really) to open their mouths like you're yawning. Lemme tell ya, I know that's the right way to sing and all, but French words that I'm not that good at pronouncing with an open mouth? As opposed to like, a slightly open one? Sort of unpleasant. I mean, one of the lines was "Je voudrais seulment dormir" (I would like only to sleep/I only want to sleep/etc) and that last "dormir" is pronounced like "dor-meer" so imagine having to do that sneery "-eer" with an open mouth. 

The teacher said it was okay, gave me a sympathetic look, and after giving me the "keep your mouth open because the sound is better, etc" lecture, proceeded to tell the class about my predicament. 

"No mais, imaginez- tu arrives dans un nouvel pays et puis dois chanter devant vingt-sept gens avec une nouvelle langue..." (Rough memory of what he said: "No but, imagine- you arrive in a new country and then have to sing in front of 27 people with a new language...") Claire, being her extremely nice self, immediately said "That was good!" in her special, sympathetic, caring tone right when I ran back to my chair, after I said "Well that was terrible", not looking at anyone. 

But after Faouzi, the other new FLE student went, and who actually sang quite well, we got to listen to some jazz, which I liked. I liked how Monsieur Pils (and basically the whole French language) uses the English terms like "big band" (which they pronounced like "Beeg bannd") and "le swing". That just makes my day.

But no, the excitement did not end there for my Tuesday. Directly after that, I had Spanish. Or at least, I was supposed to have it, but after we all were waiting for around 5 minutes, the idea started to circle around the French/English-speaking group of kids that we could all go to etude. 'Cause see, in this system, if the teacher doesn't get to the room by around 10 minutes, you can theoretically go to etude (free period). So half of us were all groaning for the other half more responsible people to come to etude, saying "Ugh you guys let's just go! She's not here! We can go!" and whatnot, with the other half going, "No I'm staying here. She might come and then we'll all have detention." Eventually we did get everyone there, but only about 9 minutes had passed. 

Then there was much confusion and uncertainty about whether or not the teacher was indeed there. I kept saying, "We're so dead," but with a laugh.

A few kids were stationed back near the room, glancing out the window to warn us if our teacher, Madame Martin, was coming. The rest of us had worried looks on our faces, asking constantly, "Is she there?! Is she here?!" to which we would all answer, "No." We consulted with one of the etude teachers, and brought up the fact that it had been at least 10 minutes and she wasn't here. It went back and forth, and then Faouzi came over and said in his joking but still legit voice, "She's here," after Jess again repeated her panicked phrase, "Is she here? Is she here?" Then we all groaned, and Faouzi immediately broke into his sneaky grin and laughed. "No, no... I was just kidding," 

In the end, we had a free period. And it was probably one of the best free periods ever. I sat around one of the tables with Claire, Jess, Sarah, Faouzi, Olivia and a few others. We were just sort of middle schoolers; that's all that happened. But I kept laughing weird and everyone got mad at everyone and started yelling and throwing around words and laughing. People stole people's backpacks and chased each other around the table and we even tried to explain what we were talking about to Betsida, the Portuguese new girl who knew some French, no English, and was naturally good at Spanish.

So yeah. 

We saw Madame Martin walking towards the building about 10 minutes till the next lesson. Strange.

And then, we have Thursday off, my dad bought the plane tickets home (we're leaving on July 1st), the Red Wings are up 2-0 against the Blackhawks, and I have some trumpet examen next Wednesday, as well as a bunch of math tests. But, instead of 44 days left, there's only 42!

Snails Attack!

Almost a week ago already, my aunt and her friend came over to visit us for a few days. It was really fricking awesome and we jammed and talked and hiked. They're musicians and were playing shows in Berlin. We went on this one really awesome hike to the end of the world; that's what it was called. Mountains framing on each side, massive waterfalls plunging to their death in throttling veins every few half mile or so. We went through a mostly flat trail, but had to cross several many rushing, icing (because that's a verb) and trecherous rivers. No exaggeration, man. And the season was rather early, so the bridges weren't up. After our lovely lunch of bread, cheese and whatnot in a grass and dandylion field with aged cowpies mixed down under, ominous clouds creeped up and about half an hour into the hike, it started to rain. It was mountainous rain, but we were seasoned hikers. We told stories, jokes, and I stopped many times to take pictures. Then as I turned my head to glance at the now gray mountainside with the waterfalls, I noticed an amazing effect of nature- the wind would blow the water falling from the waterfall across, so it was like a slight, thin cloud or another dimension scraping across the rock.

We got right next to a waterfall at one point, but first had to cross a particulary hard river. At first we went up the river a bit, thinking the rocks looked more promising there. They weren't. With leaping jumps, Steve had crossed way before us and was already snapping pictures. My dad got over a certain part and tried to help me. I held his hand, trying to catapult all of my gravity (well, myself) to that certain rock, and hang on. It happened so slowly, of course. And there were splashes, of course. Almost sickeningly slow, with me jumping, putting my...self into Fate's hands (or maybe it was their feet, really- you'd think Fate would get their hands pretty full a lot of times) and then my feet going down... down... descending... not making it. Ker-plunk. Splash. The sound of a failure. Whatever you wanna call it. My feet nerves suddenly so aware of the icy sock clinging against my skin, and wet stuff plunging deep into my "water resistant" new shoes. An annoyed "agh" immediately escaped my mouth, and then laughter. While all this is happening, the things that make people react, made me react. As in, my feet suddenly kicking up a storm down in that dog-gone French stream. Get up! Out! No! Wet! Dry! Move! was basically my brain's message. But of course, the whole thing lasted as long as a snap of the finger, and it's the kind of thing where you just act. The ending of the story was that I got up eventually, but actually didn't really get anywhere. My dad let out a puff of annoyance, and then we seemed to laugh. Oh yes, I was smiling. Jeans wet, but just a few centimeters up.

So I guess that place didn't work.

We went back to the main crossing place, where I noticed a bridge folded up. At first I just saw the wire railings and thought "Gee, what a bridge failure", but this of course was not the story. There were hikers, the kind that hit the gym at 5:30 every morning and that you find at nature parks, carrying those backpacks and wearing sunglasses occassionally and maybe even spandex in part. The river wasn't so deep, and maybe about.... 10 feet across. Probably less. The rest of the group (i.e. my dad and my aunt's friend) had gotten across, and now we were left to find the least wet route. There were rocks here and there, but none seemed plausible. Unless of course, we were to magically increase our leg span and/or have courage/bravery/etc. One of the 5:30-am-nature-park people (who was French, I'd assume) pointed me to a spot that seemed rational to cross, and we all sqinted our eyes, considering it, while I scrunched my mouth in that way when you know you have to do something you don't really want to, normally something physical. I had to step on a largish rock next to the riverside, then there was a apparently secure log maybe two feet away. It was mostly perpendicular to me, which was helpful. Then there was another rock near that, and then you get to the middle area and can just go across.


Steve was there, my dad behind him, beckoning me to "stop being a sissy". Oh no, they didn't ever mention the concept or word in any shape or form, but sometimes we criticize ourselves, you see. After procrastinating the daring steps, frozen with fear (okay, not literally) at the icy water just... a few feet down. I cleared my throat, made excuses to my dad's encouragement until the French lady came back and handed me two walking sticks, the kind not made of wood. She demonstrated how to get across, using some basic French, gave me an encouraging smile and I turned to the new scene.

Well. I would swing a bit, debating mentally whether to just bite the bullet and to the fricking thing, and then my brain got the better of me. Or actually, maybe it was the body. Either way, it took a while before I just took the leap. ...And didn't die. Amazing, I know. And actually, I wasn't all that frazed from the concept of falling in, because unless your whole body slips, it seriously wasn't that bad.

We all got over eventually, of course, and then proceeded to overcome several more obstacles of the same nature.

On the way back of that particular river, we decided to just go with the railing. There were four wires, perhaps almost 5 feet from each other. I decided to slide across the wrong way, because I felt the most comfortable with my two feet on the left wire, my left arm on the left wire, and my right arm on the right wire. It was slippery, slightly amazing, and scary-ish. It wasn't such a big drop, and I wouldn't die anyway. The water rumbled a few feet below, and my eyes switched from looking down, looking across to my dad who was nicely holding the ropes together a bit and looking straight. Biting my lip. Trying to breathe. Making irked noises. It was really like those rope course things in real life.


It started climbing after the rain stopped, and then the sun came out. It was looking more and more like a desktop background as we glanced back. Green mountains pretty much on all sides, white waterfalls carving lines, and then snails. They don't lie when they mention the whole France-snails thing. I mean, I haven't eaten any yet, but there were TONS up there. One there, then one over there, on the right.. on the left... up ahead, on that leaf, on the trail.... it was interesting to see their mucusy head ooze back into their... shell as I pointed my camera lens right at the sneezer.


The hike was described at certain parts as "very difficult" and I had to give it to these guys- sometimes hiking maps are acurate. We couldn't see where the heck the trail went after the top, and then noticed a slight trail-resembling thing curving up to the left. It was right on the edge, and as we hiked up it to check it out, you had to cross a waterfall to get to the next part of the trail. Frankly, it was pretty suicidal. The edge of the waterfall was right there, and even though the water flowing down where you would cross wasn't even deep, I wouldn't do that ever. Like, ever. So we walked down again and made our way back to civilisation.

We jammed a lot; it was really exciting to have other musicians with us. We stayed up till almost midnight talking about facebook and the Internet and music and it was just the best thing ever.

Tomorrow I get to play rugby in gym because my math speciales teacher won't be there in the morning. Should be fun, violent, and I might utterly fail. I've never played rugby. I've read an autobiography of a famous rugby player, saw Leatherheads, and have watched a good number of American football games, so maybe it won't be so terrible. I also won't be having French math for about another week, since the teacher is busy with his new....kid I guess.

English math exams soon... we have to listen to some tape and answer stuff quickly or something. Sigh. Sometimes I get very annoyed with this system.

I've revived my idea on doing a documentary, except it would be maybe a bit more Michael Moore-ish. I mean, there's no way you could even try comparing what I would make to his stuff, but just I'd list some facts, show stuff... I dunno. Imagining. Fantasizing.

Oh. And I've also been pretty interested in radio now. Like, being a DJ and stuff. In fact, ever since I was a kid I've sort of always wanted to do a radio thing. My dad would always play NPR in the mornings while he did the dishes, and I'd hear it before going off to school. We listened to A Prairie Home Companion on Saturdays ocassionally, laughing with our ears turned slightly towards the speakers. I don't know if I'd be able to not stutter and say stuff clearly, but I can try. One of my friends' dad is a DJ apparently for the U of M station WCBN 88.3 FM. So that's cool.

Me: So Claire... I might be on the radio sometime 'cause like-
Claire: Oh yeah! You told me about that! That's cool!
Valentine (other English friend): What station?
Me: 'Cause yeah. It's in the States. A college one-
Claire: So is that another one of the things you wanna do when you grow up? Be on the radio?
Me: Uh well sort of-
Valentine: When Amelia grows up, she's going to change the world.

51 days left. You know, the world can be pretty fricking awesome sometimes.

Historic jeans

Today in FLE class we had to describe our perfect man/woman; i.e. the clothes and appearance and etc. I was sitting next to Amy, one of the other new spanish-speaking kids, but who is very very good at English, and it was hilarious and awkward and etc. Madame Voutaz, the FLE teacher, also added with a smile, that maybe we wanted to describe the man (if they were a guy) or the woman (if we were a girl) of our dreams. I was stuck between describing Ronald Weasley (i.e. Rupert Grint) or just some random person (I know, right?). I chose the latter, mentioning that he would be wearing argyle socks, even though I didn't know how to say "argyle" in French.

On the way out of the school walking home, I passed by a couple making out to my left, and proceeded to squeeze my way through throngs of annoying, smoking, accented high schoolers that had those intimidating laughs and seemed to think that no one else desired personal space and/or had an objective to get through. Welcome to almost the end of 8th grade, I guess.

In other news, we're into the 50's now, (59 seems like nothing!) and there isn't much conflict, or even any at all, concerning our ETA. School gets out July 3rd, a Friday, so we'd leave early Saturday but then jump back 6 hours therefore probably arriving before noon-ish local time. We'd get to see fireworks and maybe go to TOP. Great stuff. 

My trumpet teacher got married, and I (of course) need to go back and practice some stuff on my audition music. No surprise, but I was even playing some wrong notes. An f-sharp instead of a b, etc. Whatever. It's weird how suddenly your fingers lock and you can't breathe and the notes look drunk when you play for someone else. 

I feel like going to bed. I could wake up at 6 am and watch the ending of the Detroit/Anaheim hockey playoff game, which would be weird. It starts at 10:30 their time. Detroit best win. But if they're going to lose and dropout, might as well do it now so as not to get all of our hope's up. Sigh. But yeah.

See you tomorrow probably.

Toast and shave to easy.

Last day of BEDA! No school tomorrow! I need to go to bed! I want to wake up early to get the sunrise! And/or the sunset! It says it'll happen at 5:20 though! But I guess there will still be good light at around 6! I really want to see the sunrise and stuff! Good light is the greatest thing ever! I don't know why I'm using exclamation points! I had my English exams today and it was alright! Except the audience for the longer writing task always has to be "older adolescents/adults" which is annoying! I'd rather write for "adolescents/teens"! But anyway!

I love my camera. But sometimes it doesn't not focus on things I want. Experimental photography FTW. I know, this post should have more to it, being the last one in a series of bad posts. I have stuff to write about, but for later. Sigh. You'll see. I guess.

I made a new verb/noun.

Sithfuhh: the process, feeling, sense (sight, smell, etc) of biting and/or taking in and/or involving in any way, the melting/spreading of butter and/or other proper correspondents on a freshly toasted bread, and having it melt, sithfuhh into the newly charred bread, making the Toasted Body become one with the tastebuds, softing it and overally making it a better Bread Citizen.

Needs revision, yes. But having a sort of dictionary of stuff me and my friends have said over the year in chat would be cool. Because....yeah.

See you in May.

Plans.

Day 300!!!!!!

Ba-boom! Pit-choo! Duh-duh-duh crack!! Chooooooooo!!!! Neeeeeerrrrrrrr boom crackkkk!!!

Those are supposed to be firework sound effects. It was the first thing I thought of. So just imagine if you will, a bunch of explosives cracking colors in the sky like a kindergartner coloring with some sort of high-speed syndrome and then erasing it. ...Or something.
I have my English writing exams tomorrow, and then Friday off. I practiced today and I can now play pretty much all of my audition music (save for dynamics, high notes, etc.)!!!! I know I've mentioned it several times, but I'm just feeling very confident right now.

I know I said I'd try to do Chapter 2/re-write Chapter 1 today, but I don't think that will happen. It's already lateish, and I sort of don't feel like doing the thing to my brain where I have to somehow pump out my ideas (and with a suddenly messed-up keyboard, nonetheless) and force it to make something out of it. I have to do that on tests, normally. It's not so pleasant, especially just starting with that blank, white expanse to fill and that blinking line, almost staring back at you, daring to finally bleed your thoughts. Plus, it'd just be much easier to sit back and listen to the lyrics of the song you're listening to, or make a new tab to watch Youtube videos or search some random websites. Basically, procrastination with writer's block.

No, but one of these days I'm seriously going to wake up early and get some fricking stuff done that I've been wanting to do for a while.

I've had a few (well, like one or two) of my friends ask "How's Paris?" or something of the sort, assuming that "a year in France" would naturally mean "a year in Paris". This is simply not true, people. France is not just Paris. Paris is not the only French town. However, I'm sure many of you wondered how long it would take me/us to mention Paris. My mom brought up today the fact that it would be a shame to spend so long over in France and not go Paris. I agree. I mean, I've been to Paris before, and it was great. But we didn't go to the Louvre and a bunch of other stuff, and it was 4-5 years ago. So, hopefully we'll get to planning something for that.

Oh and plus, I wouldn't have to be one of those "Bonnn jerrrr, oo aye la...church? Er, parrdonn, l....l'egg leez?" tourists. I mean, no offense to those people; they try. I guess. I'm just being stereotypical and judgemental. And every tourist town needs... tourists, and the French/etc. natives to furrow their eyebrows, sigh inside and proceed to speak quite good English. And on the perchance (is that correct grammar?) that you did not understand what I was trying to try to say in French, it was, "Bonjour, où est l'église?" (Hello, where is the church?) But yeah. Fluency is an amazing thing.

I want to travel in Europe. I want to travel in America. Canada. I think it'd be cool to maybe check out Amsterdam, because we always stop there for our flights to/from France, and there's lots of biking and it just seems cool. Spain and Germany could be cool, but again this is just fantasizing really. Only 2 months. But it's not as if this is the only chance I'll get to visit Europe.

Dang it. Anaheim won. So did Carolina, but I don't hate them. But there's only one Canadian team now in the NHL playoffs, Vancouver. Oh well. Detroit should win it again, man. That'd be sweet.

I've decided now to end this post, but not before pumping my fist several times and even feeling a little regretful at the meer thought of 65 days left.

Catastrophe at Charly's Pub 2

"...Alors, donc tu fais tout ça..." (So you play all that...)

"Et ça?" (and that?) I pointed to the bottom half of the first piece, titled Gigue, and my teacher said yes. We played pretty much all of my audition music, but I still had to, of course, go home and practice it, hoping to Gosh I would remember the rhythms. I actually liked the piece; it was fun to play, even if there were lots of dynamics, you had to play the notes short and it had some high notes. I said bye and left the trumpet lesson, the French evening not let plunged into that deep blue panic. My mom said to meet her at Charly's Pub, the local bar (well, pub obviously) in St. Genis, the town where I took lessons and in which our friends had lived a few years ago for their year in France. (By the way: reference to the title- we once did a skit with those such friends entitled Catastrophe at Charly's Pub, and it was pretty much the best skit ever.)

There were a few adults hanging around outside on the red, mostly tipped-over chairs in front. From their throats came billowing white chemicals, resembling several small, old, frail white hairs rolling and tumbling, constantly forming edges and imaginary spheres. I groaned inwardly at the sight and my brain brought up the sadly familiar memory of the smell of cigarette smoke. Some of the people turned to look at me, mostly men. I must have looked strange; a kid carrying a trumpet with her music folder walking around a pub, apparently looking for someone. I squinted my eyes and raked the scene. No mom. I muttered a mild swear word under my breath and looked down the street. No one resembling my mom was walking up. Nor a car that looked like ours. I took one last look at the outdoor pub area and walked back to the car, thinking maybe she had already gone there.

I wasn't sure if the car was actually down that street, but further examination revealed that it indeed was. I passed my teacher walking to his car and after a nod of recognition he started whistling. There was not, however, anyone in the car when I finally got there. I didn't bother to stifle my groan. "Where the #@*%*& is she?!" I glared, I groaned, I let out puffs of air angrily. 

Basically, that whole scene happened twice. On the second time, though, I actually checked out the windows of the pub much to further stares. And on my way back to the car, of course my music had to fall out. The third time I went, I decided to actually look inside the bar, on the chance that she actually went in. For some reason I didn't think she would, but obviously if she was at the bar and not outside... she was in. 

But you see, bars just do not strike me as the kind of place a kid would want or could go in, you know? So needless to say I was a bit hesitant. Already 20 minutes had passed since the end of my lesson. But I gathered up my courage and risked a few quick glances in the doorway. There was your stereotypical bar counter with bartender leaning against the wood, perhaps offering advice to the drinking customers, leaning against the counter with those tall chairs. Other people to the left at tables, and to the right a bit. A few people looked at me, which was to be expected. No mom either this time.

I went back to the car, friggin' mad now. I figured this was the final destination, persay for both of us, and I couldn't find her at the pub. I leaned against the car and took out my music to do fingerings.

After going through both pieces, finally I noticed a small figure up the road walk down towards the car. I thought she recognized me, but turned left to go to the lesson place. I groaned, picked up my trumpet again and ran over. 

Needless to say, we were both annoyed. It was 8:40 by the time we got home, and my lesson had ended at 7:45. 

But besides that, I guess it was an okay day.

Today is my 299th day in France/Europe and I've been thinking. Well, we all know how much I hate it here, and how much I want to get back, right? We also know that although I hate(d) it, I also am sort of liking it, and have mentioned my confusion with the fact that maybe I.. well, like it. The mountains are real, they're not pictures from a National Geographic magazine or on the computer and made of pixels. I've climbed some, still want to. French can be a pretty cool language, if a few hours of it isn't injected into your head every day. I have some really cool awesome friends over here, and yesh, the food is great. The cars are smaller, barely anyone at school wears Aerocrombie and Fitch, Hollister, or any of that other stuff. The school sucks at most things, but somethings it's sort of okay and different. I get to have English lessons with real English people, and am actually having tons of classes. I may have two math classes and not be learning algebra or geography, but at least I'm getting the experience, right? 

Whoa. Had to cut myself off there. This is getting too corny/expected and should probably wait till the very end. What I was trying to get at is, well no duh I'm going to miss it but I think I've done my time. I've earned the airplanes rides back and am going to coast the next 65 days. Yes yes I know... I've mentioned this a thousand times. I've even mentioned that I've mentioned it a thousand times a thousand times. But it like actually is coming to an end. No, and I mean actually. 

Oh. Well when I come back probably my life will be boring and there will be nothing interesting, so no one would read this anymore. Well that sucks. But then again, who knows if I'll need this? We'll see. We'll just see. 

Fine; I'll see.

I hope to do Chapter 2 and/or a complete re-write of Chapter 1 tomorrow... no seriously I actually have an idea now.

66. Soixante-six. Sixty six.

Swine Flu

This whole foreign year has been fraught with peril, what with the robbery down the street, the arrests, the phone booth across the street thing, and just the general "Not in America" thing. As it turns out, there is yet again another danger laying across our path to the place known as Home and all that entitles. It all began with my almost-everyday morning chat with Carolina, a 6th or 7th grader from Mexico but who is quite good at English and French. Her dad works at CERN, too. But anyway, she mentioned how there were lots of Mexicans dying in Mexico, supposedly with a "cold" but which was not actually a cold. Then she said it spread to Canada already. To this I replied, "Oh. That's not good,"

Later, at lunch, after I had done my 2-hour English exam, my mom also mentioned the mysterious disease and said she'd talked to her English Quaker friend, who worked in the World Health Organization. She said "not to worry" and there were "already mesures being taken". Those weren't the exact words, but you get it. Well so, I haven't looked into the sickness that much (it's supposedly like the flu, but sort of kind of maybe perhaps slightly deadly to weak ones?) but the fact is it spreads, like, fast. Like, in the whole wide world. So, from like one country to another.

Going to an international school with lots of different kids from different places + that = not good.

Especially since we just had break, and the kids maybe visited their home countries or whatever. Anddddd since my international school has a pretty crappy administration, that I doubt would even mention this thing to us. No, I'm serious. Maybe I'm not just a wimp when I complain about my fricking culture-experience school. But I'm not like freaking out, geez. I'm just mentioning it. Even though I bet you've all heard allllll about it on TV/radio/newspaper/school. Because America has media. And we are informed citizens. So I probably sound like a.. non-informed one.

In other news, um. I need a doctor's appointment for my ear, I believe. Either that, or my iPod headphones are messed up. Because yeah, we all need to know about Amelia's health worries. In large detail.

Not much else to say. There's tomorrow.

Day 300 fast approaching!!!!!

67.

Betrayal/Var's Debut

Well, Michael Aranda is pretty awesome.

Just thought I'd share...
Stuff 'n stuff.

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You know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to start a story or something. Just sort of randomly, and it's probably not going to work, but I just feel like it. It'll just be practice or something. Or, more like torture for my readers.

Ahem. So. I guess a lot of times I get these random quotes or snippets of a name or characteristic of a character or something. I write them down with a pencil on some paper, pretty messily. They're just ideas, they don't have to add up to anything.... yet. Sometimes I'll go back and stare in bewilderment, wondering what the heck I was talking about. I need a plot. I could always go with a generic one, just some variation of bad vs. evil. Wait... wait... argh. There was a perchancidea (oh yes, I did just make up that word just this second- perchance + idea; you think you might be on the right road towards some sort of idea, but then it sort of flitters feebly and dies. I'm left with a wide expanse again). Okay I've got a quote... but I had a... WAIT.

Come on ideas, you best be flowing or I'll come over there and...

THIS IS FRUSTRATING. HOW CAN I LINK THAT TO THAT!??!?! THERE MUST BE A WAY! Or maybe I can just not use that... but it's such a good idea! Okay okay... so.. murder? Maaaaybbbee.... some sort of a trip? A different world? No no... present day should be good.

Waiiitttt.... waiiitttttttttttttttttttt..........dang it.

WAIT. I think I got something. It's slightly generic and expected, but you never know. Besides, it's not like this has to be a masterpiece.

I'm just going to start with the quote and we'll see how it goes. Enjoy? Oh and.. just to make it "interesting", I'll maybe put stuff in italics to mean the "author's" (as in me) thoughts, like how I got there or whatever. Just... just whatever.

Some sort of Chapter One thing

"Are you calling me a murder, Mr. (argh I need a good name! think...) Hillergag? Surely," Mr. Mewlin squinted his eyes so that they resembled a thin electricity line hanging in a bleak sky (terrible, just a terrible metaphor), "you know of my recent past as a doorknob salesman, so how could I possibly have murdered someone?" He spoke it softly but with a sly underbelly, so as to intimidate and distact the frail Mr. Hillergag. Then he laughed, nervously but still with a cold stare.

The thing about Mr. Hillergag, however, was that he somehow seemed to think everyone was a salad. "There are all kinds," he would say, "but they are always green. Always. And I have not met ANY, not one, that lived in New Hampshire." Therefore, he did not understand how Mr. Mewlin could possibly be anything but a mass of tossed green leaves, perhaps mixed with a mustard or vinegar and olive oil dressing, preferably served with bread on the side and with a glass of nice French wine. Whenever he feels defied or confused, as he did now, he always scrunches up his mouth, holds his breath for a few seconds, and replies with a rushed voice, "The carrots! The carrots! Speckle them on top! Buy! Buy! Sell! Sell! It's a fork!!! A fork, I tell you! Not to cut the leaves!!!!!"

After blinking for several seconds, Mr. Mewlin walked away and continued on to sell his doorknobs, shaking his head and muttering things about salads and restraining orders. Mr. Hillergag calmed down for a moment and then ran out of the building, suddenly overcome with energy. The street was paved with lots of people, all bustling to do their business. Many carried briefcases and wore fancy clothes, clearing their throats politely to themselves and then checking their cell phones/pagers/whatever the heck they have.

Just then, as Mr. Hillergag burst out of the glass doors, which had doorknobs labeled Mewlin Doorknob Enterprise, a crack much like an aged grandma biting into an apple erupted from Up There and liquid poetry crashed down on the clothed shoulders of all the people Down There, which caused a very coreographed motion. One of the men walking about with his briefcase and black socks (he was wearing more than that, of course) grunted, looked up at the sky and grabbed for his umbrella under his arm. The people behind him did the same, as well as the people in front.

"You're all bloody salad!!! Salad, I tell you!" And now, all of the umbrella-d rich folks turned to the new disturbance, which of course was Mr. Hillergag yelling and pointing at them in the street. He leaned down on the cement, his knees immediately soaked with the wet rain and started whimpering.

"Actually sir," a greyish figure, dark and obscure-looking, because of the heavy rain, loomed up next to the groveling man and spoke with a slightly strained voice, "I rather think of myself as a cardboard box,"

Mr. Hillergag looked up, and at first didn't notice who spoke, seeing as it was very short. The other people with their identical umbrellas and briefcases had now moved on, and made a mental note to not order salad for lunch today. The speaker turned out to be a.. a fish. A trout, to be exact.

"A... a cardboard box?" The salad-crazed man examined the trout, a new feeling of hope washing over him.

"Well, not really. But my father graduated from the University of Cardboard Boxe University, so I sort of take after him," He added a smile, his blue-green scales, partially hidden because of his brown tie, sparkling for a second as a cloud opened up to allow a yellow ray of warmth shed down even in the rain. He did not look much like a fish, really, but it still passed off in customs. His voice sounded like a human's, actually.

"'Boxe' with an e?" Mr. Hillergag stood up now, his whole face streaming with rain drops.

"Yes. In fact, that is the correct spelling of box. The whole world is actually in a state of utter ignorance. What's your name?"

Mr. Hillergag stared. He stared for nearly an hour; a talking trout. Asking his name. But the fact was, Mr. Hillergag wasn't insane- he just acted this way to get into books and stories. He was really a genius, and the reason he made himself stare at the trout was just for looks. He wasn't surprised at all; so many things like this rare occurence had happened in books, and he wasn't the least bit startled at weird or strange things happened.. in real life.

The trout proved to have an unbelievably long attention span and not to mention amount of patience. By the time Mr. Hillergag found it long enough to act dazed, which was nearly 2 and a half hours, the salad that the people that had been called salad that they did not in fact order had gotten cold.

"Morrison Hillergag. And you?"

The trout looked pleased with this conversation, straightened his tie with his fins and replied, "Fraser. Fraser Gibson. And by the way, I'm a door salestrout. You know, like a door salesman but I'm a trout."

"Ah. Ah yes. I'm not really anything, except I tend to be in a lot of books," Morrison was now on his feet, not caring to brush off his wet clothes since it was still pouring, or minding the stares he was still getting from passersby.

"Books, you say?" the trout looked interested, and came to join his new friend on a nearby bench. Bleak rain drops bounced off the wood, leaving murky puddles and a pitter patter sound.

"Well, yes. I tend to be in the background of them, acting as those surprised or frightened people. For example, d'you remember those James Bond books? I was one of those screaming, running away people when the bomb was going to go off." He looked thoughtfully out at the nearby buildings, and then a thought struck him.
"Hey, how are you breathing air?" he asked Fraser with wide, sceptical eyes.

"Me? Oh yes well-" but the mysterious trout could not give his answer, as Mr. Mewlin had suddenly reappeared at that moment, and at his side was a police man.

Chapter Two or whatever shall come later.. one of these days. I sort of just felt like stopping. Remember now, this is just a first draft! I hope I actually continue this, though...