Yann Tierson

Gosh.

Well, instead of sneezing up gosh's and omg's and dude's and all that bligadesh, I'll blog. Because that's what the youth today does; listen to mostly crapful music while typing up stuff on the internet which periodically includes improper grammar and/or spelling while pretending that the rest of us care while annoyingly chewing gum, wearing clothes that everyone else wears and yet complaining about the fact that their shirt is blue. And yes, I am a hypocrit. And aware that that was so stereotypical that I think a certain Mr. Pudhif's briefcase exploded into a million orange peels.

For those of you not entirely scarred (as in, familiar) with the many internet doings, April has quite a "Do such and such every day in this month!" theme. For instance, my mom first notified me of the Write a Poem Everyday in April (not sure if that's the exact name, but I think it's close- I mean, how many different variations could there be?) thing. Which I believe she is participating in. I, however, might put a poem in here and there, but I think I've made my readers suffer enough.

YouTube ----> Vlog Every Day in April (VEDA). They made "everyday" two words, as you can see. I know one guy who's doing it. However, the original was to blog everyday in this fine month of lions and lambs, so I think that is more appropriate. And I believe, but correct me if I am wrong, that Maureen Johnson started this whole obsessive everyday thing, so all credit goes to that fine lady. YOU SHOULD check out her blog. She's an actual author (though I confess I actually haven't read any of her books), so that means her blog is actually worth... worth. As opposed to *cough* someone's *cough*. Note: I'm referring to mine, if you didn't catch that. Yeah, I'm a pretty dedicated supporter of my internet life.

So anyway! I suppose I'll unformally and partially-undetectedly sort of participate in that. And it shouldn't be so hard, because about half of this month is break.

OH OH OH!

And guess what TODAY is, you guys. That's right- another important notch in my continuing (and seemingly endless) year in France.

Nine twelfths. Five sixths. Not sure if there should be one of those - things. I decided to do it (write down the numbers) English to challenge myself sort of. Well, I mean think about it- when do you, fellow English speaker, ever actually write down the numbers out? We learn it like once and then hardly deal with it ever again, save for maybe the pursusing of an English-Foreign (second?) Language teacher guy person, I guess. Ok enough.

But, really- 9/12 of the way done. I commonly associate 12 with 9, at least in math class- like with changing the common denominators in fractions, and common... factor... ness. You know? So 9 is a bigee. THREE FOURTHS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wait. Yes! It's true. I mean, it's like actually April. I consider(ed) April to be one of those... sort of.. magical and rare and precious and amazing and fantastical months when I started this year. 'Cause I mean, really, it's like.... and I know I've repeated this several times, but really- the home stretch. Not the real one, but we're allowed false hope that is indeed not even false, but merely perhaps an overreaction, or stretching of terms, or enlarged optimism, but which of course turns out to become just plain hope and then sore mouths from smiling and then ending this sentence.

I feel like I've been neglecting this blog for a while. So it feels really nice to start writing in it again. I mean, there's never going to be another March 2009 ever again! It's gone! Done! I never have to stumble upon it again, and try to prevent myself from doing one of those horrid depressed, over-written blog posts.

And yet, I feel almost as though trapped in this never-ending circle of thinking I had something to say, procrastinate, somehow feel worse, never write, or if I do, it just sounds like everything else I've been saying and it's terrible and I regret it but then I describe the whole cycle in a later post and just

Yeah. But I hope, that by the end of this year, that at least some of you will sort of get to grasp why I was/am like that. Like, understand me and not just wave me off as some crazed teenager and pretend not to be related to me.

My back itches. It was seriously warm today, and we're going skiing tomorrow. Which is... eh. I mean, skiing is awesome and all, but at a certain point even a winter enthusiast like me wants to fully acknowledge the smell of fresh, bright green grass. But anyway, we got to watch this rather interesting film in French class. And I mean French French class, not FLE. It was one of those films that you often see at film festivals (here I go stereotyping again), but like... those.. I mean, yes, most would call them "weird", but of course it's art. It's not "usual" and often has those imaginative themes. Gee, what a horrible, strange addition to culture- imaginative art. I tend to not understand why some people don't like this stuff. Or at least appreciate. How judgemental of me.

But anyway, it's called "L'Homme Aux Bras Ballants", which basically means the man with dangling arms. And, by the way, the title of this post is the name of the composer/player of the music in the video. I actually really dig this kind of stuff; it really makes you think about stuff, and since they're short, it kinda fills me with this woody, nostalgic and gnawing feeling that makes me wish I could stay in that world longer. Kind of like when you finish a book like Harry Potter or something. Watch it. You'll be culturally enhanced. I mean, I guess we have this stuff in America, but I dunno it seemed more French. Reminded me of Tim Burton's stuff. I think it was inspired by a poem.



It'd be interesting to see what you guys think of it, you know. I thought it was pretty creative meself.

Um. Yeah. I was going to say something. Burnt out. I've probably already written too darn much. Tomorrow?

Egregious Excerpts

Ok ok ok ok ok.

April?!??! No, I don't feel like doing an April Fool's Day thing. Instead, I decided to blog (obviously) after I had so rudely left my readers with... not. And I'm going to type up the about a page and a half of stuff I felt like writing in one of my journals. The very same as the one I wrote the airplane flight in. Because yeah.

I just kind of felt like writing. I mean, you've got all these thoughts and ideas floating around all the time, sort of like dogs in cages. Some of them are loud and annoying, just barking away at you. You might grimace when you remember them, but think about how each deserve at least a sentence or two. Some of them are quiet and this can make them easy to forget. Then a pool of regret follows. Most of them aren't the big bad dog type ones, but they DEMAND attention. If you don't get a leash to let them out (pencil/paper) quick, they'll just... yeah.

I can't help but feeling all of these, or at least some, will somehow add up to something. Like building a ladder to paint in the sky. Wishful thinking perhaps, but we all got our dreams.

Ha, using English is rather fun. It just... sort of comes. I can just drag my tired hand over this clean sheet without bothering myself with genders, complicated verb conjugaisons or accents. But enough about French.

Egregious. I'm supposed to use that word.

You know what's great? Getting high on inspiration. I know I'm jumping around topics, but I'm slightly concerned for my left ear. I think it's been affected. Not infected. I played drums last night, but I think it's my iPod headphone. It's not that I have the music really loud, but that the cover on the left piece is missing, so I get these small like electrical shock-type things when it "overheats". Painful. It also might be the earwax. I hope I don't lose my hearing or anything.

Do you think it's... ok/good to sort of just... push of force out lyrics or a poem or something even if you don't necessarily have an idea or inspiration? I mean, they always talk about the importance of just trying and all, but maybe that only applies for certain things.

On the other hand, though, you might get something flowing after you've started, and it's just more words on paper. I kind of do that though, like I am now. But whatever. Just loosening the dog cages.

Good metaphors are hard to come by. Thought, really, I'm not sure I fully agree with that statement. And I probably meant similes instead of metaphors.

After reading that, maybe the dog cage thing is a bad metaphor/simile. And good metaphors are so hard to come by (at least to me) that I couldn't find one to express the difficulty. I could have tried, but yeah.  Ah well. Sometimes you just gotta go with stuff. I've got a writer's license. I'm not for dogs in cages, by the way. 

The horizon is literally just April, May and June. And just a wee wee bit of July. April is about half break, and then it'll probably just be smoke.

So yeah. We're doing Shakespeare in English, which is actually really awesome. 

Um... not much else to say really. I missed an awesome band thing, which makes me annoyed. But really, there was nothing I could do about it. 93 days left.

Melvin Revived

It's amazing what music does to humans.

It's day 260, and a lot has happened since day 1. I apologize for the lack of importance and oozing of already-been-repeatedness in that sentence, but I just felt like starting this out like that.

So I had decided to stay home from school today because I got sick. Sore throat, runny nose, that crap. It really is crap, though. I've drunk a few gallons of tea (not literally) though and re-read some of the Deathly Hallows. That was the only Harry Potter book I brought over; the whole series would probably be 50 pounds by itself. It's rather blustery today, too. This French wind is pretty violent towards our front door and balcony chairs. It's like... violent. 

Well anyway, I decided to listen to my iPod just now, and you know how your brain has photographic memory and a bunch of other stuff like that, like sound memory. Not sure what they call it really. 

So it occurred to me that whenever I listened to Ben Folds (Five), Jason Mraz and maybe like Panic at the Disco, and other bands I got into this year, I would think of France. Little images and events popping up, and just the general feeling of the place.

Take, for instance, the current song. Zak and Sara by Ben Folds. Great song. I first heard about it from one of my best friends, probably at least 5 months ago. My brain is conjuring up images of.. images of... well mostly me chatting with the friend on the computer, and also when I got the CD for Christmas.

As pathetic as that first image may be, you gotta give me some slack here. The Atlantic Ocean is large. And I have a Gmail. And a whole year to be separated by that ocean.

Another one by Ben Folds Five also has that hidden edge to it when listened to; driving back from this one skiing trip that I don't think I even blogged about, the current song was something like Don't Change Your Plans. And then my mom said something like, "...And you know, they say this is the best way to remember things- when you hear this song you'll think of this trip, and even me saying this." And obviously, I do.

Probably the most nostalgic song, however, is Jupiter (Gustav Holst). I used to listen to it pretty much every night before I went to bed back in late June or so, when we had to go soon. I had to sleep on the living room couch because my room is being used as the storage room. So I get that image. But I also get memories of band, which was the best thing ever. We played it in the winter concert in 7th grade. Good times.

So anyway. I just felt like sharing. I just feel so.... "yayfull" when I listen to music; almost like I can "do anything". Well not really that. More that life is just awesome, and just... you exist, you're alive. It sort of grabs you into this other perspective, or maybe several. And like it sets your priorities for you. Probably the same for you guys pretty much. Yup.

Whoa. Seriously only 105 days left. I asked my English friend at school what they did on the last day, and she said they had fun and shot at each other with water pistols (for some reason I found it somewhat amusing at her use of "pistol" as opposed to "gun"). I guess I shan't miss that. 

I think when I get home I'm going to delete my facebook. Or something. Sigh.

Poster

107.

Well, what. I decided to use prose (well, not poetry) today... sometimes it's just more effective. And mine tends to get raw. That could be said for not poetry I suppose as well, but we all have to get it out someway.

Ever since the first day, I've been thinking about going home and all that. It's gotten pretty exciting lately, with the numbers really waining down to those hopeful 2-digits. I've sort of let go on some of my grip on France, but am still sort of blinded. You know it's kinda funny; in the beginning, the end seems like the greatest fantasy- it's what you want. But you have to wait a while. So it moves on, the days pass, you learn some stuff, you breathe in oxygen again and again. Then, yeah, you blink, and you're where you are, which just so happens to be very close to the end. But suddenly, you're almost confused. I mean, all this time- "I want to go home I want to go home home home home yes I'm going home going home" and then you almost don't notice but you are going home, and while clinging on to that going home state, you most likely don't take so much stuff in, and maybe you don't.... want to go home. Well, you want to go home, but the numbers are just sort of misleading.

So the other day it occurred to me that, yeah, I really was going home, but was it too fast? I've taken tons of pictures; I've written tons of blog posts; I've learned a ton; I've met new people; learned (still am) a new language or two; had (and am in the process of having) a "once in a lifetime experience" and all that.. but to actually say goodbye to it?

But then I thought, you know what, I've got a lot. I honestly think I'm ready to go, but then again, still glad for the last "few" days. I'm happy where I am, but still have this inspirational gnawing to get back to where I was, to live with myself after and with all these new thoughts and ideas. I'm inspired; I can see where I (think I) want to go, who to be, what to do. Perspective.

But why even bother? World troubles. We've all just got our own ideas. Why should one person matter? Who cares. It's just all big, too everything.

But normally that feeling, that perspective, only really lasts a few hours or so. As you probably know from a few of my other posts. But it's worth it, and I know (I think) that someday, approximately 107 days from now, it'll become the only perspective, and I can just soak it in, soak in what I've been pondering about for all these months, from writing those little snippets in my cahier des textes (planner) and observing the 5iemes and 6iemes playing ping-pong and just strumming that acoustic guitar during lunch time.

Oh. I think I just lost the perspective. Not necessarily.

"Expression is when you're at one with nothingness and you just breathe with your playing."
- John Frusciante (who is, by the way, frickin' awesome {and pictured up there}).

This is soo ending.

{another "impulse" poem- probably going to be revised...}

I guess I just need to say it to your face
because you obviously don't get it
but I don't have that luxury
you don't know what you do
not even I know that
but at least acknowledge
at least say hi
what's up with this?
I'm too needy
I've asked so much
Living on lyrics to find the answer
but why bother
do you even care anymore?
Drifting our different ways
never on the same page
except way back when
It's my feelings getting to me; I have a hunch
Keeps coming back at me like a punch
So I can't ignore it
Maybe I'm too attached
Maybe I'm a creep
Dying from lack of sleep
Everyday, every chat, every pixel
eating inside but healing the apparent
This is soo ending.

Just Yesterday

{I'd categorize this one as one of those "sort of just acting on impulse"; the thoughts were coming, so I thought I'd just jump on the computer and spew it out. I mean, revision is free. I just got ideas. (hint hint- I am also very open to [constructive] criticism.) So yeah... Debussy also had a part in this.}

{Another note on (my) poetry: I guess I just tend to write phrases/words down that may or may not rhyme or even get anywhere. It doesn't seem to flow so great, and probably doesn't make any sense, but sometimes I like reading and hearing those vague, open stuff. You just sort of wrap your mind around it and lather on your own perspective. I don't normally listen or read something and let the artist's own... background or intention get involved. I like to just interpret stuff as I like. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. You can probably figure out what I'm talking about here, but then again, you can (no duh) interpret it as you like.}

Just yesterday

The paving and beeping and backpacks laden my way

with memories

to the place that started after 

just yesterday

The new, the wet

the tall, the met

And then just yesterday

it is of a great rumbling that I came here

only to leave in a blink, as if you fear

Just yesterday

The highest form of entertainment being those silly rhymes

to fool short ones that think this is it, the time

It's always it; it's always 

just yesterday

And then a passage, a yell

an awkward, a hell

That started just yesterday

Because before that

was before that; the past

but the present

Just yesterday

The unknown face, unfamiliar existence

Becoming what you knew. Then you miss it.

Wide space of constant sides

Now knowing how to read the lines

Colors; brown, a hazing green

Behind where you see, what you've seen

No one else with that vision

Memory; with language it's a given

Oh, but language, language language...

Just yesterday had seen not knowing how to conjugate 

Or really knowing what to hate

And how did that soft artificial yellow and red

become a crackling piece of French bread?

Just yesterday, it was not a problem.

Just yesterday, no courage to call them.

Just yesterday-

Ignorance and not alive

Misunderstanding the joy of a high five

Tiring of now, which was the past

"it went by fast"

It's still going, it always does.

Forceful exhale of bottled-up fuss.

Just yesterday, we was talkin like dis

With size 4 and undersized hips

We were friends

oh- we are friends.

But remember the absence?

Getting over the fence?

Let's just go

what will happen is in the air, we hope

what has happened is behind,

now for our heads and making ropes

to tie us down and help us find

what we have thought always 

just yesterday

-----

I'll get goin' with a real blog post one of these days.. busy... needing poetry to express... tiring.... annoyances of course... perspective... words.... wanting to just get done.... you know.... thanks.

blue ink #16 - (How to Make Memories)

The keys were jingling. Dangling on her right, a mesh of silver bells. The almost-cheerful sound didn't quite fit the gray pavement we were standing on, much less her. Not very tall, waring a somewhat dull overcoat and other dark-colored garments which were almost too dull to remember. Which is why I don't. Black curly hair tightened back into a greasy pony tail, though her hair wasn't actually that shiny.

And then her face. Perhaps the most animated part of her, being able to sometimes make various facial expressions, though somehow still with an intense and severe air. I watched a few feet away as another teacher came up to ask her something, and she nearly bugged her eyes out, pulling them tight and wide and exaggerating her mouth, as though it were a daily exercise. This only lasted a few seconds and then she barked a few French words out in her constant melancholy tone. I got the feeling she didn't really like her job.

Turning back to us, she lifted up her left hand and with a bored expression, glared at her nails briefly and returned them to her pocket. Her face looked almost like a toad, actually. Or maybe some water creature. Dark skin, grave expression. I noticed a slight glint in her eyes as she then drew in a breath and parted the thin lips of her mouth.

She yelled a firm French sentence to the lot of us. Drew in another breath and yelled further orders. It wasn't such an aggressive yell; there weren't many of us. But then she inhaled again, still with that dark look and then my ears seemed to already ache as though knowing she would now unleash her fiery French dragon shout. But no, it was a false alarm and she remained at the same volume.

We then hesitantly lumbered up to etude, where most of us had 3 straight hours. Which actually I don't really mind, except that I'm missing an English class. And I was rather looking forward to it.

Man, time goes by fast. It's already Friday. And then it'll be Monday and I'll have to start the grueling week all over again. Sigh. But then it'll be Friday again. And this'll continue for only 15 more weeks. Or so.

I can remember back in those late 2008 months and looking at a calendar thinking I'll never get to "Mars" (French for March). I mean, it was like another planet. But then here we are.

You know, everyone keeps saying (talking) about how I'll remember this in college and later and life and all that, which is true of course unless I get memory loss or something. But then it occurred to me that, like, I had a lot of "power" right now. Well, you guys do too. Because it's like.. I'm living in the present, naturally, but knowing it'll be the past. But think about it. So, I'll look back on this year especially (probably) and I know it'll pass, so..

I mean I guess it's hard to explain. But it's almost like... controlling your memories. Controlling your past. But because of the present. Uh oh though... this is sort of sounding like 1984. But not really because I'm not changing the past. I'm not deleting it. I'm just sort of living in the present, future and past at the same time.

Take, for instance, me writing this blue ink. I'm imagining myself blogging about it in the future, knowing I probably will. I am still writing it though. I still am. But it'll pass; it'll become a memory. I know, I am aware and conscious that what I'm doing RIGHT NOW is actually the past. But also the future because you will probably read it. You're not reading it RIGHT NOW. But, ha ha, you are if you are, and right now is now. But when you read it, it'll be... then. I will have written it. It will have passed. But I'm still the only one reading it right now.

So, maybe it's bad to live life knowing things will just end, but it's easier to go through hard times like that I think. And it works everytime.

Lift up your hand or something. If you're reading this, and decided you would in fact lift up your hand, then you know it'll be next; the future. So, (if) you're doing it- the present. Then you put your hand back down and it's the past- seemingly at the same time as the present. Impossible.

And then of course, even as you read this you know it'll end and then it does and it's almost like you didn't. Those next sentences are memories.

Yup. "Once"-in-a-lifetime-experiences, for ya, eh?

(See? You finished reading. This is the past.)

---------------
Turns out I accidentally skipped English class; the teacher was there. Woops. But it was a complete misunderstanding and only like 8 people showed up. Whatever. It passed.

A Slightly Irrational Rundown of The 8/12 Situation

Guess what guys. Decision time. Which means, of course, me continuing my rants on why I hate the school here/etc, and more of my "depression", worrying and annoying whining.

But! Good news, folks. Only 120 days left, which probably means that maybe, just maybe, the posts might get slightly, maybe just slightly, more optimistic. Or maybe more cheerful/interesting/readable. But then again, should a writer assume things with their own writing...? Well I was just thinking.

And now, watch/read (with your pink eyes..), as I, your *cough* distinguished writer, attempt to run through the problem through blogging, perhaps in a pixeled trial to solve/organize the many thoughts circulating. But for some reason, I shall be writing it as if I was talking to someone. Maybe that way it won't seem like I'm a crazy hallucinatory that talks to herself, and that doesn't have readers.

So, as you probably know, I have to decide what courses I'll be taking next year and stuff. And stuff. Stuff, in this case, includes, but is not limited to, things I feel are necessary to worry about.

Take for example, the fact that I have not been learning history or geography pretty much at all this entire school year.

A product, no doubt, of the (*#%*!#*&$%^@##$&ing stupid French system. See, with the French school system, they don't even try to pretend to give that whole, "we want to provide the best learning environment for each individual" thing. Or any variation. Rather, it's quite the opposite; they make the students (and there are many) fit into their system, which is just the worst thing ever.

Of course, this is the slightly skeptical opinion from an annoyed teenager who was abruptly and without choice or interest thrust into the #*%&# system, so I dunno.

Let's take a look at my schedule, shall we?

I have a total of about 35 hours of actual school classes per week, and about 7 hours for lunch. These include:

On week A:
-7 hours of French math (including math speciales)
-5 hours of FLE
-4 hours of French
-4 hours of Spanish
-3 hours of English (I woud have 4, but a new FLE schedule changed that...)
-2 hours of sport (gym)
-2 hours of English math
-1 and a half hours of life and earth science
-1 hour of physical sciences
-1 hour of etude
-1 hour music
-1 hour art

On week B:
Same thing, except5 hours of French and only 1 hour of sport (gym).

I used to have 2 hours of French history/geo but because of FLE and Math Speciales (Which I shall refer to as MS), that is now completely removed. But that's just as well, because I didn't learn hardly anything, much less understand.

I used to have 2 hours of sport, but because I had MS the second hour, I could skip it.

I also, long long ago, had technologie for an hour and a half, but that also got removed by MS.

So, even though we are learning algebra in French math and trigonometry in English math, I'm not feeling all that confident going back to the old US system, my career of which (which) has been so rudely interupted.

I almost already feel like a "high school dropout"; I keep telling my parents that the school system back there won't really care about "once in a life-time experiences" and "scenic views"; they want me to be passing their tests, taking AP classes or whatever they're called and just fitting into their system.

So, ugh, I somehow have to learn a whole year's worth of American history/geography and possibly algebra. My dad says it's possible.

I want to learn algebra.
I want to learn American history/geography.

I wish I could just ask the school over here to cut me some slack.. I mean, I dunno... MS is pretty unnecessary, and I don't like or really need Spanish (I'm already learning 2 languages- gimme a break), I also don't really need life and earth science (I learned the stuff last year and stuff), or French class (not FLE- the French French class).

I mean, come on. I want an education here. And yeah yeah you adult types (and maybe kids) will just say, "if you want an education, you have to put in the effort, make wise choices" and blah blah. Which I don't disagree with, but... attempting to learn in sort of 2 different school systems at the same time, one being incredibly stressful, does not really work with me.

I try over here. It's not like I don't want to learn. Sometimes I'm disappointed with myself with not trying as hard as I thought I would, but you just... ugh.

Looking at this with an optimistic attitude- is algebra really that important? The first year to finish this year, I mean. I mean, I'll be in different classes than most of my friends, but I think I can take geometry and algebra in the same year sometime... as for history/geography, I think I should probably do something about that though. Because, really, there has been no learning involved. Unless you take in account my picturesque travels to different European countries, and seeing different places such as England, Italy and not to mention France. But still. None of that "capital of such-and-such country" and the governments and listening to those taped dialogues in the city stuff.

Do I regret these past 8 months? No.
Do I think it's worth it? I admitted I thought it was a few months ago.
It'll look great on my college application and all that jibb-kaj (new word), but the problem now is actually getting to college....

But, in other news, it's actually really seriously March.

8 months down.

4 is not such a big number. I mean, I've almost dreamed of being here. And here I am! Actually really seriously going to go home.

Ergh. Italy post probably going to be posted soon. Sorry about delay. And pictures. Tons of pictures.

Have fun with March. Almost there.

Shoulders

I know I haven't blogged in a while. I'll try posting the Italy post soon, but the Internet's been screwy.

We went skiing yesterday at the 3rd place in the Jura, where we hadn't gone before. At first we had planned to go to the Alps, but there was tons of traffic. I didn't actually really want to go. But it was fun I guess.

The subject of high school was brought up, and Zach told me it would be best to pass out of Algebra 1 this year, because otherwise I'll be behind the rest of the 4 years.

Behind.

Isn't this just wonderful? I highly doubt I can test out of Algebra 1 this year. We haven't even started really. I don't even care if that sounds pathetic because I don't think it is. My school sucks.

Isn't this so wonderful. ISN'T IT? IS IT NOT? IT IS JUST SO WONDERFUL. SO INCREDIBLY WONDERFUL. ISN'T IT??? IS NOT IT?????!?

Nah. I'm ok. I think. I just have to get some things out like that.

So, my choices are:

a) panic.

b) not worry, try to be optimistic.

c) somehow magically complete a whole year's worth of algebra into 4-6 months.

d) just do some algebra.

e) b and d.

The optimistic point of view:

Well, I mean, hey, you're spending a year in FRANCE and school is already really stressful. So I think you should just sort of chill. I mean, just think, years from now you'll look back, know you graduated from high school anyway. It'll be alright.

The pessimistic point of view:

OMG you are SUCH a FAILURE, Amelia!! This sucks! This really sucks! No! You're going to be BEHIND everyone in high school! Ugh! Failing. This sucks. Everything sucks. We're all going to die.

I guess I'll try to do e).

I started worrying again, for some strange reason. Things go ok, it's just slightly unpleasant. And often times the intimidation and missing and theoretical stress just gets to me. Maybe things got harder.

But I seriously just need to get this over with. I literally just have March, about half of April, May, June and a tad of July. And only 124 days. I remember when it was 150. And when it was Day 124. So, back to biting the bullet, finding that optimistic/perspective place again and ... talking to my friends I guess.

I might've said this a few times before, but my main strategy that worked for a while was just to say to myself, "This is all just going to be a memory." And it does work. Because, really, this is the life I get. This is it. Why let some stupid school that's really stupid get to and ruin me? And it didn't, really. It actually helped me. I guess. To a certain point.

I don't know what most of you guys think of my year in France. I mean, some of my friends have commented and stuff, saying encouraging things and stuff, but I don't really know. Probably the readers that thought I was so dang lucky to do this and then see my complain left by November or so. Maybe I haven't done a very good job of describing things. But the fact is, well, careful what you wish for, I guess. I never asked to do this thing. My parents told me other people would "beg" to do this. Several times. But obviously, not everyone likes this sort of thing.

I don't really know where I was trying to get to. More biting the bullet, more not talking to friends over the week (sigh), and more.. work I guess. It could be harder. It could be easier. It could be somewhat pleasant.

The thing with my school is, there's not really anyone you can go to (as in an adult) to just talk about your worries and stuff. Maybe in the English National Progamme, but not really. So basically you just go through the days complaining about how messed up the system is with your friends. The teachers aren't very helpful or encouraging, but some can be in the ENP. They normally are. The French ladies at the Vie Scolaire get majorly pissed at small things and vent their unneeded anger at random pupils.

Because of my new FLE schedule, I have to miss the first half-hour of my Sciences Physiques class. Which I hate. Sort of. Perhaps I'm making a lot of small things seem big in my mind. Still, this school can really... create.... annoyance.

And I just seriously get tired of changing perspectives. SERIOUSLY TIRED OF IT.

I just...

I'm tired of virtual hugs. I'm tired of Spanish class. 

It doesn't matter, it will end, I'm going home. 

Italia

[Left: This guy is (was) pretty much my new idol....]

Well, we're off to Italy in the morning tomorrow. We'll come back on Sunday, and then the days really start to wane down. 6 hour car ride. This met cow-like groans from Zach and I. Julian's been cool, he skied for the first time today, and it was actually some of the worst conditions we've been in. Not saying much considering at least 90% of our skiing experiences here have been cloudy. My dad and I were actually sort of gettin' sick to our stomachs. Not... actually sick, but just... not... well. 

Thank goodness they use Euros in Italy... I'm hoping to get a hat or something. I know pretty much zilch Italian, but hey, maybe I can use some Spanish or even French! And if I really want to go down the route of the pathetic, hopeless tourist, I can probably get my way around with English, since pretty much everyone will probably know it, even with their slightly annoying accents. But that's Europe for ya.

Pictures, of course. Might not get such a great blog post for a while though, since we get back the day before school, and I'll be tired and have to do last minute homework and all that. I've been wanting to write about certain things though, which I will probably be able to do one of these days. 

Oh! Another thing I forgot to mention this one time. It actually happened a while ago (like a week maybe when we were skiing with Simon's dad Steve and it was terribly cloudy), but I feel like mentioning it. It won't quite have the affect (effect?) I was hoping for, though, because of a rushed, just-get-it-out-there tone. I guess. But anyway. So, we were going up this lift and of course it's all cloudy and you can't see really anything and it's terrible. But then we come up to the end of the lift where you have to get off and stuff, and turns out that lift is pretty hard to get out of. My dad jumps off first, but somehow I'm still attached. My ski poles hanging on to his coat or something. So all of a sudden, I'm just rising up- I'm still on the lift, it's still going. So somehow I hurl myself over the edge of the chair and fall, probably at least 5 feet. I hit the snowy ground with a whoof, and that familiar feeling of having the wind knocked out of you and this distinct pain sort of in your diaphragm, like a stale lump in your stomach. Similar to the kind you'd get while wrestling in the living room, or really anywhere. So anyway it was sort of exciting. I survived, the pain wore off, and I guess now I have a story to tell.

Last-minute trip things... so I have to make this quick. I guess there isn't really anything left to say... I'll leave that bunk of thoughts for that other post... "see" you "guys" on Sunday I guess.

R.I.P. Elliott Smith. 'Nuff said.

Lucky...

[Above: pictures from our snowshoeing trip in the Jura.]
It seems that as soon as you think you just rid of all, or at least the immediate suck in your life, something goes around and punches you in the face. Or really it could be the arm. This isn't new; life is long, (and yeah short whatever) and yeah we all know how it sucks sometimes. Often. But it always finds its way to affect you; even though in a way you make it affect yourself. Because it does.

Life was so much easier when I was on the same continent as probably the rest of my life.

"Ugh! Why can't we just have not been here for 8 months?" I grumble at dinner, forming my new anxiety about the next step in my education. My dad doesn't answer. Yeah, I didn't want to go there either. I've already argued too much about this trip, really.

But seriously.

Rennie: are you filling out your course selection sheets for pioneer and stuff?

me: er

Rennie: or something of the sort?

me: er

....no

Rennie: ok.

me: the only thing I did was the community application

crap I'm like dead

Rennie: no, you're not.

you should try e-mailing ms mackenzie or a counselor at pioneer.

me: yeah I'll do that

Disadvantages and inconveniences suck. Which I guess is really part of the whole definition and point of those words.

I'm almost done with 1984 by George Orwell and it's slightly disturbing. It's good; literally a must-read for us as a human species and existing beings, but sometimes books and stuff can really set a nerve in me. If I was living in Oceania with Big Brother and all that, I'd probably just scream all over "DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER! NO! THIS IS ALL WRONG! YOU GUYS SUCK! THIS IS WRONG! THEY'RE BAD! THEY'RE EVIL! NO! WE'RE ALL FRIGGIN' HUMANS! ON ONE EARTH! DON'T BELIEVE THE LIES!" And go on and on like that. Right in public. But I wouldn't actually last long like that, because they would immediately find me. But then right after I'm sort of finished, I'd just commit suicide. I know what you're thinking- "how is it that I somehow found myself reading such a morbid person's blog?!?!?" and all. No but seriously. I couldn't live with myself with the alternative. Of course, that's all assuming I wasn't brainwashed.

This video also got me thinking.

So, I'm worried/concerned about my education right now. Yeah. I wonder if you guys ever have been. I mean, my main thing is that like... after all those "stay in school", "you'll get a good job", and stuff and all that and stuff, I feel like I suddenly like.. died. On the school front. My friends are all fit in of course with the system, literally on the road to success. Me? I get a wonderful, new cultural experience that barely anyone else could have for a year, while my friends learn algebra.

Sometimes I get so mad.

Nah, I guess this isn't really new stuff. But I had to get it out. And then of course later, maybe soon, the perspective will lather itself down over everything and maybe it'll be fine? Sigh. Yeah. And Zach's friend is coming over tomorrow, so that'll be awesome. He's pretty cool. Missing school for it and stuff.

Celery.

Melanger Les Couleurs (and, not to mention, the emotions)

[Picture: vine-field we passed on a walk one time. I thought it was like a field of question marks.]

Awesome French group (my mom and) I found out about today: Kaolin. They also have a wikipedia article and stuff. And iTunes. I guess I haven't really been... fully "enriched" in the whole French culture thing.. I mean, school is a lot, but it's only one aspect kind of. I haven't actually had that many crepes and don't even go to French cafes or restaurants all that much. And now recently it's been the "it'll all go in a blink of an eye so do what you want before it ends" -season, so maybe I should start... French-izing. Or something. I have no idea how we're getting all this stuff back home... might take a few trips. But yeah.

Valentine's Day. See, when I first was reminded of this, I just sort of wanted to crack up. Just because.

Italy towards the end of the week. Next week, that is. And Zach's friend is coming soon. So that'll be cool I guess. Turns out my parents both know some Italian... which of course led to my continued speculation, criticism and observations of other languages.

So... yeah. Not much happening. I want to be putting up more pictures on this blog I guess. And stuff and stuff. Poetry attempts. I've taken up sleep-depriving myself again. Being the insolete little teenager I can be.

I predict after the break it'll sort of just be a snap of the fingers. A rustle of the grass. A whizzing blur. A blink of an eye. Just like that. Or at least, I hope. To a certain extent.

Sigh.

To Which he Kindly Replied

Well. It snowed today. Then it got melty. I saw Dan Levin twice during the week, which was really awesome. He got us talking about our school and stuff and stuff. It's gonna be weird going back. I guess.

Naked Baby Photos never gets old, apparently. I still need to try hard to get my thoughts sorted out at this rather pitch black hour.

Oh gosh; procrastination. I guess I'll just jump right in to whatever I was saying, which was actually just talking about the fact that I was jumping into whatever I was saying, but then again maybe in fact I had something to say, even though I kinda expected to just forget and ramble, just doing this for... for... I wanna say prosperity, because sometimes I like to use words that just pop up in that there place up there, but maybe that's not the right word.

{After about half an hour of doing other things}

So I guess what I'm trying to say here is...

I'm going home in a little more than 4 months, and maybe I'm rather excited and wanting to just throw this whole thing (as in France) in the dumpster like it was cardboard box, but only after opening the packaging it was in and playing in it a little bit. I want to be done done done. I keep seeing the end. I'm seein' it. I saw it on July 3rd, 2008. But it's actually real. It doesn't have to be a fantasy.

I feel like I'm one of those bands now that suddenly is obsessed with a theme, like... political songs or something... obsessed with having it just be done.

The theme of the 6th grade yearbook was to not count the days, but make the days count. I'll try both.

This break, again, kinda screwing up my perspective for the umpteenth time. That spells crud. It's called hard work. Ready? Disolving tongues. Missing the first half hour. Just staring. It helps to sit down, watch the show. Refreshing that's not a liquid. We've finally gotten to a higher state of neglect, here. Friends?!?! High-fiving because you have le pouvoir. Just so happens I'm pressing that orange button soon.

Dan's strategy: lyrics from a book

Without Lessons

{No title yet}

Put on some Mraz, he fascinates
but how can you procrastinate your fate?
pick up the pen start scribbling
or the forget starts nibbling
let it go, it passes
like birds in the winter- masses
even if they don't care
dare to share
it's just you
no background music
trying not to lose it
quoting lyrics, using the fretboard
up and down with that chord
head-thrashing while they're cashing
in what they worked hard to get
over and over again- tours and hits
is this what it's all about?
what about real? what about fake?
amplify what you make
we get problems- so we write about 'em
after they come and go, some dumb
but I go with the fear, let it loose
I got ideas- do you?

::To be revised and etc.

I love being a musician. An artist. For some reason bringing in the "art" part of it makes it more... well, just that it's sort of a higher degree... better. More... just more. But I mean really, we're all artists, there are just those of us who recognize it. That amplify it. Literally and figuratively.

Today I jam'd with my dad again at CERN, and we recorded some of it. I played some drums, a tad of piano and some trumpet. It was actually rather awesome.

Tomorrow we shall wake up around 8-ish and drive for a while to this winter/skiing chalet place where we'll ski with Simon and stuff. Should be fun I guess. I guess I don't really have lots of plans for the break, except playing music, reading, HW, taking pictures, trying to wake up early and maybe hanging out with friends... yeah.

I guess with all this thinking about the end, one hardly notices the middle. And if you just pay attention to the middle, the end just jumps right up. But being in the middle and thinking about the end... and yet the middle too... everything seems weird. But nah nah. Maybe I'm in that weird place where you're suddenly used to being there, and then about to be surprised to actually go back.

I like wizard rock. I really dig that classic 1960's/'70's rock. I was reading some of John Lennon's part of the Beatles Anthology book, and it was rather interesting. It's amazing how... someone can just be so... blown up from the media, and sort of having been made a certain way from it, that we never really... they're not... . Celebrities are sort of treated like a different species in our culture. And yet in my saying that it's still stereotyping.

I want this guitar.

Comtemplating

Here I sit, with only 152 days or so to go (this fact scared me- 150 is only 20, plus 17, plus 56, plus 47, plus 3 plus 7. Which is small.) in this suddenly whitened-over town (it snowed today), which for some reason must suffer the consequences of waiting way past their bedtimes to watch beefy Americans with tight pants ram into each other, while some annoying guy probably named Steve laughs about sandwiches with a few other guys, one of which is probably named Hank, and ridiculously-"clothed" women giving us all fake smiles with their heavily manicured faces, as if to say football has a feminine side, which of course it does, what with the mothers slaving over American dinners while the father shoves peanuts into his cheering mouth, which is also stinking of beer. And don't forget the breaks- or really, from their reputation, they are more like just other parts of the game- we get to hear some guy or lady tell us about the sleek new shiny silver volvo/mercedes/ford car we just must buy because of it's such low MPG. And don't forget Bud Light. Heavens no, us Americans will never tire of those generic, trying-t0-appeal-but-really-making-it-look-ridiculous ads for that brown-colored liquid that people don't normally drink until 21.

As in, it's 10 o'clock and only 2 hours till the "kickoff" of Super Bowl {insert appropriate number of Roman Numerals}. I'm of course rooting for the Steelers, but not sure I can last till then. I could go to sleep for like 2 hours then come back.

You know, I guess I didn't really think of American TV as a chore, but now after being deprived of it for several months, I'm starting to realize how stupid we all are. I mean seriously folks. There is an off button. Just leave it be once in a while. We're not all couch potatoes, but considering how much our society stresses that.. aspect and amount of stuff is in/on there, it is quite sickening. I was just a viewer of The Simpsons and sports; mostly hockey, baseball and football. My lack of heavy-duty TV-watching might have had something to do with the fact that my family doesn't fit into the stereotype of having a few digits' worth of channels. Nay, we were the "static-static-channel 2-channel 4-channel 4 again-a few teens-static-some random thing- and then the canadian channel-. Yeah. So it was always a nice, almost intimidating treat to go over to a friend's house and watch, say, Spongebob or a High-Definition Tigers game.

But this isn't to say TV doesn't have it's moments. I don't think anyone even doubted that, but just whatever. I mean, how can we all forget those legendary commercials? Some still make me crack up violently when I think of them; The Jewelry Factory in Livonia!; "Butter, Milk, Eggs..." (Ha ha, I seriously started to grin there)... and the list goes on.

So anyway. I just thought I'd share that all with you.

My addiction with music/CD's continues to power my wallet. Or more, power the usage of my wallet. More, the objects inside the wallet. I spent about... 50 dollar's worth of CD's.. again. I think I'm pretty set on my musician's side; I also jammed today, which lead me to think that I might not actually be such a sucky drummer. I've also learned how to play most/all of two Oasis songs; Wonderwall and Shock of the Lightning. Both seriously great songs, and not too hard to play either. I also have two of my own songs going, which do need lyrics though.

Ah, I could just imagine how awesome this would be with Erez and Oren. Or really, any of my friends. We would just be acting all crazy, eating food, maybe jamming... killing brain cells, losing sleep, waiting for something so hyped-up for it's sickening, making memories. But isn't that what America is all about?

Like I would know.

I'm not sure when, but sometime in my life, my body decided it couldn't live without croissants and that it just wouldn't eat "real food" containing things such as artifical flavors/colors/etc. I'm not sure when, but sometime in my life, I actually starting not hating French. Or France. Sometime, not sure when it happened, I turned into an optimist and suddenly found out about all these awesome modern artists. Sometime, I felt more inspiration for guitar than trumpet. Sometime, long ago, I was a pessimist that worried even though I got good grades and had good friends and lived 3 minutes from the school and loved trumpet and was ignorant of the world and didn't feel proud to be an American really, but didn't know anything else and didn't know how to conjugate Spanish or French verbs.

It was actually around 215 days ago.

Go Steelers
lyrics
I'm having a nice life.