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.