No, that's not a real phrase. At least I don't think...
Anyways, I have a present for you: Pictures!
Non, ce n'est pas une expression réelle. Au moins je ne pense pas...
Alors, j'ai un cadeau pour vous: Photos!
(the links are the same, by the way)
(les liens sont les mêmes, par la voie)
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Dear AFS,
When I made this blog, you had me send you a link, so I figure an AFSer is reading this. I'm going to set the tone of this note as not in the least bit complainy: As I've said before, this is an incredible opportunity I'm more than fortunate, and happy, to be a part of. That being said, I have to bring this up:
You're kind of giving me some mixed signals here. It seemed that a key theme was going to be the complete cultural submersion and becoming a member of a French family, and while that's generally what's going on I seem to be a little put off by all these events. Now, I know they're not obligatory (in that you're not the one making me go), and I do enjoy them, it just makes me feel like a tourist all over again. There's an overwhelming urge to speak English, and I feel alienated from the general French cultural I'm supposed to be bathing in.
I don't really know why I said all this, but I suppose I adopted this as a personal blog above being a France journal, and I'm bound to discuss things on my mind. I do look forward to tomorrow night's dinner, I did enjoy last week's balade and I assume I'll be at the next. It was great meeting all the other AFSers in the program too, and the energy and atmosphere is always positive.
Again, I have to admit my point is moot in that you're not the ones making me go, so don't let this be at all accusatory.
And just because I've already started one blog, might as well throw in some more thoughts: It's unfortunate that American culture has put it's fingers into everything. This is actually the main reason why I've been feeling deprived of a nice soapy soak in the bath of French culture. Whether it's some of the games that are still in English with French subtitles and text, or the American TV shows, the music in English filling the radio, the billboards and advertisements that use English slogans. I've always thought a familial world culture would be beneficial in the whole "world community" vibe, but I feel almost disgusted by hailing from the main catalyst of this movement. I suppose there's always things the receiving culture will reject, allowing a customization of the influx of all things alien, but it's by no means a stopper in the bottle - the bottle that is the delicious syrup I enjoy on my crepes. And where is that syrup from? Well, Canada, actually, but...it's close enough I guess. Terrible analogy, sorry.
Really needs to sleep before his babble becomes too incoherent,
Taylor en France
You're kind of giving me some mixed signals here. It seemed that a key theme was going to be the complete cultural submersion and becoming a member of a French family, and while that's generally what's going on I seem to be a little put off by all these events. Now, I know they're not obligatory (in that you're not the one making me go), and I do enjoy them, it just makes me feel like a tourist all over again. There's an overwhelming urge to speak English, and I feel alienated from the general French cultural I'm supposed to be bathing in.
I don't really know why I said all this, but I suppose I adopted this as a personal blog above being a France journal, and I'm bound to discuss things on my mind. I do look forward to tomorrow night's dinner, I did enjoy last week's balade and I assume I'll be at the next. It was great meeting all the other AFSers in the program too, and the energy and atmosphere is always positive.
Again, I have to admit my point is moot in that you're not the ones making me go, so don't let this be at all accusatory.
And just because I've already started one blog, might as well throw in some more thoughts: It's unfortunate that American culture has put it's fingers into everything. This is actually the main reason why I've been feeling deprived of a nice soapy soak in the bath of French culture. Whether it's some of the games that are still in English with French subtitles and text, or the American TV shows, the music in English filling the radio, the billboards and advertisements that use English slogans. I've always thought a familial world culture would be beneficial in the whole "world community" vibe, but I feel almost disgusted by hailing from the main catalyst of this movement. I suppose there's always things the receiving culture will reject, allowing a customization of the influx of all things alien, but it's by no means a stopper in the bottle - the bottle that is the delicious syrup I enjoy on my crepes. And where is that syrup from? Well, Canada, actually, but...it's close enough I guess. Terrible analogy, sorry.
Really needs to sleep before his babble becomes too incoherent,
Taylor en France
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Long Time, No...Anything, really
Firstly, the country of France, perhaps all of Europe exists in a different time frequency. Much like radio frequency, this means the undulations of the "time waves" is different, in this situation: sped up. As a result of this entirely proven scientific phenomenon, time passes more quickly here. I think it's because I'm living in the future now (except if you live far enough East of me. Time must be even faster for you guys!).
I have a lot of things to say, and I'm going to try and do most of it without going and finding emails and copy/pasting the stuff for everyone else. Here we go!
J'ai beaucoup des choses pour dire et je vais essayer faire ca sans cherche dans les emails j'ai deja ecrire. Allons-y! (note, that was terrible french)
What kind of things do you want to know about? I've been meaning to say this for a while: it was like the second week, I had 6 different cakes in 9 days. It was awesome.
Qu'est-ce que vous voulez savoir? J'ai voulu dire quelque chose depuis longtemps: c'etait la seconde semain, je crois, j'ai goute 6 gateaux differents dans 9 jours. C'etait tres chouette. (by the way, I'm using my lappy, and I'm too lazy to use accents)
I bought pants, they're really cool. I wore a tie and the only one who said something was some authority member guy, but he wasn't really nice in general. And a CD, but it's Mika, which isn't French but whatever.
J'ai achete des pantalons, ils sont tres genials. J'ai porte une cravate et le seul person qui dit quelque chose etait un homme d'autorite, mais il n'a pas ete sympatique. Et un Cd, mais c'est Mika et c'est pas francais mais c'est pas grave.
Clippit from an email (I'm getting lazy):
They don't have substitute teachers in most French schools. When a teacher doesn't show, class is canceled and either replaced by another class if that teacher is available or all the kids go to "permanence." "Permanence" is a giant room full of seats where you just sit, be quiet and work for what should be your hour long class. I thought it was pretty cool, and I still kind of do, but it's happened like 5 times this week. Also, all my afternoon classes were canceled yesterday because there was this "regulations" thing we did. It was about 10 students and 3 teachers and it was supposed to be a dialogue about how to make the class better (i.e.: how to make the students behave better). I guess it was the first time it's ever happened. Oh, and every now and again, random authority members of the school (intimidating graying men in nice suits) come into the class and talk to us about stuff. Today I think it was about how the class doesn't take Histoire des Religions seriously. Which they don't. At all.
Oh la vache, je ne veux pas traduire ca, c'est trop dure. Donc, je ne vais pas. Desole.
Okay, that's all for now, maybe more later
Okay, c'est tout pour maintenant, peut-etre plus plus tard.
A bientot!
Taylor en France
I have a lot of things to say, and I'm going to try and do most of it without going and finding emails and copy/pasting the stuff for everyone else. Here we go!
J'ai beaucoup des choses pour dire et je vais essayer faire ca sans cherche dans les emails j'ai deja ecrire. Allons-y! (note, that was terrible french)
What kind of things do you want to know about? I've been meaning to say this for a while: it was like the second week, I had 6 different cakes in 9 days. It was awesome.
Qu'est-ce que vous voulez savoir? J'ai voulu dire quelque chose depuis longtemps: c'etait la seconde semain, je crois, j'ai goute 6 gateaux differents dans 9 jours. C'etait tres chouette. (by the way, I'm using my lappy, and I'm too lazy to use accents)
I bought pants, they're really cool. I wore a tie and the only one who said something was some authority member guy, but he wasn't really nice in general. And a CD, but it's Mika, which isn't French but whatever.
J'ai achete des pantalons, ils sont tres genials. J'ai porte une cravate et le seul person qui dit quelque chose etait un homme d'autorite, mais il n'a pas ete sympatique. Et un Cd, mais c'est Mika et c'est pas francais mais c'est pas grave.
Clippit from an email (I'm getting lazy):
They don't have substitute teachers in most French schools. When a teacher doesn't show, class is canceled and either replaced by another class if that teacher is available or all the kids go to "permanence." "Permanence" is a giant room full of seats where you just sit, be quiet and work for what should be your hour long class. I thought it was pretty cool, and I still kind of do, but it's happened like 5 times this week. Also, all my afternoon classes were canceled yesterday because there was this "regulations" thing we did. It was about 10 students and 3 teachers and it was supposed to be a dialogue about how to make the class better (i.e.: how to make the students behave better). I guess it was the first time it's ever happened. Oh, and every now and again, random authority members of the school (intimidating graying men in nice suits) come into the class and talk to us about stuff. Today I think it was about how the class doesn't take Histoire des Religions seriously. Which they don't. At all.
Oh la vache, je ne veux pas traduire ca, c'est trop dure. Donc, je ne vais pas. Desole.
Okay, that's all for now, maybe more later
Okay, c'est tout pour maintenant, peut-etre plus plus tard.
A bientot!
Taylor en France
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Alps: Part 1
Dimanche: 22 fevrier
I went snowshoeing in the Alps today. It was incredible. Incredible doesn’t cover it. I would stop, and just look around, just to try to take in everything around me. It is one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen nature do. The best part, I didn’t have my camera.
Correction: I had my camera, but it didn’t have a battery. I hate to be so accusatory, but when it comes to an action that results in someone missing what could be a once in a lifetime opportunity to photograph some of the most breathtaking and famed landscape on the planet (I don’t think I’m over-glorifying the Alps that much, I mean, they are the Alps), then I feel I have just cause to be a little remorselessly angry. The story: Last night, Quentin decided it would be a kind gesture to charge the battery of my camera. So I see him pop the battery out, and this surprises me, I say, “Qu’est-ce que tu fait?” (What are you doing) and he explains that he’s going to charge the battery. I try as best as I can to make clear that it is entirely unnecessary as the battery is full. And it was. I see him put it back in. I guess he popped it out again when I wasn’t paying attention and threw it in the charger. Again, a generally nive gesture, however he didn’t actually plug the charger in. (I have American plugs for my chargers, and one converter, which the lappy was using). Thinking that I was going to sky today I didn’t bring the camera, I was afraid I’d break one of the many times I was bound to fall. However, the plan was to go snowshoeing (faire des racquettes, or something). We stopped at the house, condo, rental area place briefly to drop of the skis we’d rented too, so they weren’t left in the car. I took this opportunity to scootle on upstairs and snatch my shutterbox, then it was out of the house in a flash. So, we get to the stop. I’m wearing sunglasses, which I’m in no way used to, and I have to take them off. There was no way I was going to see what I was going to see through filters. Immediately I wanted to start taking pictures. At first I think it’s funny that the camera doesn’t turn on: I figure it’s because of my borrowed gloves that are awkward, stiff and bulky. I take them off and when it still doesn’t turn on I recall with horror the happenings the previous night that I’ve just recounted. I open the bottom and say “Quentin! Òu est la battery!?” I immediately feel bad because he had already gotten in trouble for losing one of his gloves. But I was pissed, excuse my language, but I was. So I left the camera in the car and tried not to make too many comments about how beautiful everything was, and if only I had a camera. If you feel like that is an immature or snide way to behave, see the beginning of this paragraph.
I will, however, have my camera the rest of the week. I believe we will be snowshoeing again, but I think it’ll be at night by torchlight or something. Awesome, but not the most photogenic of events. But thoroughly awesome. And not the weenie synonym for cool, but I’m sure it will inspire awe. You can look forward to seeing plenty of scenery and essentially no pictures of me. I didn’t bring my snow gear because frankly I’d didn’t think February through July was going to wield enough occasions of need to warrant spending that much weight and space in my already overweight suitcase. The rest of the family all has their cool, personal gear, and I have what the cousin grew out of and left behind. It’s a robin’s egg blue, light lime green, and pasty yellow jumpsuit.
Now, I don’t want to complain. I really hate to do that, considering the incredible experience and the great wealth of generosity that’s been sent my way. I am grateful and thankful for everything. I’m having a good time, enjoying myself, and participating as much as I can. That being said, let me repeat myself: a robin’s egg blue, light lime green, and pasty yellow jumpsuit. Every time I put it on, Thomas laughs at me, using the French words for “ridiculous” and “clown” (which is the same as the English version, just said differently). But it keeps me warm as I trek through gorgeous mountain terrain, so at least I have something.
Fondue: we ate it for dinner. It was delicious but I have a little bit of a stomach ache now. Tonight was the melty cheese one where you dip bread in. Two nights ago was the boiling oil one you dip raw pieces of steak and it cooks them. That is delicious. Matty, I’m going to make it for you sometime, I’m sure you’d like it. The odd thing was, the oil is made from the seeds of grapes. The seeds of grapes. That’s like drinking a glass of water collected from the dew which dripped from the first harvest of the wild lemons. How many grapes does one need to obtain enough seeds to make enough oil to fill two fondue pots? I figure they’ve got plenty of grapes getting squished around here anyways (unfortunately, I dislike French alcohol the same as American), they probably started squeezing seeds from boredom. Then when oil came out…they decided t boil it…and dip meat into it? I guess? I don’t have internet here, so I can’t verify that story, but it seems likely so I’m going to go with it.
And now, I sleep.
Taylor en France
I went snowshoeing in the Alps today. It was incredible. Incredible doesn’t cover it. I would stop, and just look around, just to try to take in everything around me. It is one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen nature do. The best part, I didn’t have my camera.
Correction: I had my camera, but it didn’t have a battery. I hate to be so accusatory, but when it comes to an action that results in someone missing what could be a once in a lifetime opportunity to photograph some of the most breathtaking and famed landscape on the planet (I don’t think I’m over-glorifying the Alps that much, I mean, they are the Alps), then I feel I have just cause to be a little remorselessly angry. The story: Last night, Quentin decided it would be a kind gesture to charge the battery of my camera. So I see him pop the battery out, and this surprises me, I say, “Qu’est-ce que tu fait?” (What are you doing) and he explains that he’s going to charge the battery. I try as best as I can to make clear that it is entirely unnecessary as the battery is full. And it was. I see him put it back in. I guess he popped it out again when I wasn’t paying attention and threw it in the charger. Again, a generally nive gesture, however he didn’t actually plug the charger in. (I have American plugs for my chargers, and one converter, which the lappy was using). Thinking that I was going to sky today I didn’t bring the camera, I was afraid I’d break one of the many times I was bound to fall. However, the plan was to go snowshoeing (faire des racquettes, or something). We stopped at the house, condo, rental area place briefly to drop of the skis we’d rented too, so they weren’t left in the car. I took this opportunity to scootle on upstairs and snatch my shutterbox, then it was out of the house in a flash. So, we get to the stop. I’m wearing sunglasses, which I’m in no way used to, and I have to take them off. There was no way I was going to see what I was going to see through filters. Immediately I wanted to start taking pictures. At first I think it’s funny that the camera doesn’t turn on: I figure it’s because of my borrowed gloves that are awkward, stiff and bulky. I take them off and when it still doesn’t turn on I recall with horror the happenings the previous night that I’ve just recounted. I open the bottom and say “Quentin! Òu est la battery!?” I immediately feel bad because he had already gotten in trouble for losing one of his gloves. But I was pissed, excuse my language, but I was. So I left the camera in the car and tried not to make too many comments about how beautiful everything was, and if only I had a camera. If you feel like that is an immature or snide way to behave, see the beginning of this paragraph.
I will, however, have my camera the rest of the week. I believe we will be snowshoeing again, but I think it’ll be at night by torchlight or something. Awesome, but not the most photogenic of events. But thoroughly awesome. And not the weenie synonym for cool, but I’m sure it will inspire awe. You can look forward to seeing plenty of scenery and essentially no pictures of me. I didn’t bring my snow gear because frankly I’d didn’t think February through July was going to wield enough occasions of need to warrant spending that much weight and space in my already overweight suitcase. The rest of the family all has their cool, personal gear, and I have what the cousin grew out of and left behind. It’s a robin’s egg blue, light lime green, and pasty yellow jumpsuit.
Now, I don’t want to complain. I really hate to do that, considering the incredible experience and the great wealth of generosity that’s been sent my way. I am grateful and thankful for everything. I’m having a good time, enjoying myself, and participating as much as I can. That being said, let me repeat myself: a robin’s egg blue, light lime green, and pasty yellow jumpsuit. Every time I put it on, Thomas laughs at me, using the French words for “ridiculous” and “clown” (which is the same as the English version, just said differently). But it keeps me warm as I trek through gorgeous mountain terrain, so at least I have something.
Fondue: we ate it for dinner. It was delicious but I have a little bit of a stomach ache now. Tonight was the melty cheese one where you dip bread in. Two nights ago was the boiling oil one you dip raw pieces of steak and it cooks them. That is delicious. Matty, I’m going to make it for you sometime, I’m sure you’d like it. The odd thing was, the oil is made from the seeds of grapes. The seeds of grapes. That’s like drinking a glass of water collected from the dew which dripped from the first harvest of the wild lemons. How many grapes does one need to obtain enough seeds to make enough oil to fill two fondue pots? I figure they’ve got plenty of grapes getting squished around here anyways (unfortunately, I dislike French alcohol the same as American), they probably started squeezing seeds from boredom. Then when oil came out…they decided t boil it…and dip meat into it? I guess? I don’t have internet here, so I can’t verify that story, but it seems likely so I’m going to go with it.
And now, I sleep.
Taylor en France
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Sacre bleu! it's Valentine's Day!?
bleu rhymes with dieu (probably spelled it wrong). It's like the difference between saying "Holy Cow" and "Holy Sweet Jesus!" or something worse, I don't know.
As you can infer from that slew of posts that lies beneath this one here, Robonator is online. Not in the way I'd like him to be (wireless), but in a way that'll do for now (...with a wire...that connects him to the router). From now on though, I'm going to try and post in French too, but I won't say anything in French without saying it in English too. Actually I can't make that promise. But Magdeleine wants me writing in French, and I figured I need to practice and all this English isn't helping me none.
Updates on the week: The kid who triggered the pop quiz in Physiques last week was late yesterday, and I guess coming in 20 minutes late after lunch was the last straw because he got expelled. The day before vacation. Not only that, but the very next class (he had to finish up the day) after the one he was late to was "Group de Partage" (je pense) which is like Transitions as far as I can figure. We sit in a circle and talk about things. Le sujet de cette classe pour cet jour etait "reussir" (it has an accent agu sur the e, but I'm not going to bother right now). Reussir is the verb that means "to succeed." The following hour of class was talking about what it means to succeed, the definition of success, what success means to you...
I know, harsh, right?
I participated a little. It's frustrating to not be able to express my ideas at all. Even in English I have troubles getting the point across, right now I haven't a hope to handle myself in a discussion in French. Euh, I guess that means I have to get better. That's my hope, to be able to properly participate in a discussion. I'm pretty sure I've already mentioned how I've been mistaken for a French person a couple times, but once I start talking I ruin it.
Vendredi Thomas went to his Grandma's so I made my way home by myself. And I did it, without hitch, without getting lost, panicking, anything. Perfect. Oh, have I told you the path home? I think I might need to remind you anyways: From the school - two block to the train station, the train for ten minutes, walk a block and sprint the second block to catch a bus, ride the bus for about ten minutes, get off, a block to the next bus stop where I catch a second bus, ride that for about 5 0r 10 minutes, then walk 2 blocks home. And it's not just like, "oh, here's a bus, let's get on," because Ile de France (the "state" I'm in) has Paris in it, it has it's own special mega public transportation system. Mega mega mega, there's buses and trains everywhere. But I did it, without hitch. Which, unfortunately, makes for a boring story.
Vacation! Next two weeks are off! I'm going to Paris and I'm going to buy things! And see cool things! And I might go skiing too, I don't know.
Vendredi there was no EPS (piscine - the swimming class) because...again, I don't really know. Thomas, Nicholas (not the cousin) et moi sommes allé à chez Nicholas, là nous avons fait nos devoirs de physiques et joué Unreal Tournament. Which I'm surprisingly good at, usually I'm terrible at those kind of games.
Ah, I want to be done typing...Do I have anything else to say? Trèsor is a cereal (this is for Matty) here in France, it's like coco puffs, but 2 - 3 times the size and filled with fudgie chocolate brownie stuff. It was good, but I had it only once, it's too much for me...
Okay, okay, I'm done now,
Taylor en France
As you can infer from that slew of posts that lies beneath this one here, Robonator is online. Not in the way I'd like him to be (wireless), but in a way that'll do for now (...with a wire...that connects him to the router). From now on though, I'm going to try and post in French too, but I won't say anything in French without saying it in English too. Actually I can't make that promise. But Magdeleine wants me writing in French, and I figured I need to practice and all this English isn't helping me none.
Updates on the week: The kid who triggered the pop quiz in Physiques last week was late yesterday, and I guess coming in 20 minutes late after lunch was the last straw because he got expelled. The day before vacation. Not only that, but the very next class (he had to finish up the day) after the one he was late to was "Group de Partage" (je pense) which is like Transitions as far as I can figure. We sit in a circle and talk about things. Le sujet de cette classe pour cet jour etait "reussir" (it has an accent agu sur the e, but I'm not going to bother right now). Reussir is the verb that means "to succeed." The following hour of class was talking about what it means to succeed, the definition of success, what success means to you...
I know, harsh, right?
I participated a little. It's frustrating to not be able to express my ideas at all. Even in English I have troubles getting the point across, right now I haven't a hope to handle myself in a discussion in French. Euh, I guess that means I have to get better. That's my hope, to be able to properly participate in a discussion. I'm pretty sure I've already mentioned how I've been mistaken for a French person a couple times, but once I start talking I ruin it.
Vendredi Thomas went to his Grandma's so I made my way home by myself. And I did it, without hitch, without getting lost, panicking, anything. Perfect. Oh, have I told you the path home? I think I might need to remind you anyways: From the school - two block to the train station, the train for ten minutes, walk a block and sprint the second block to catch a bus, ride the bus for about ten minutes, get off, a block to the next bus stop where I catch a second bus, ride that for about 5 0r 10 minutes, then walk 2 blocks home. And it's not just like, "oh, here's a bus, let's get on," because Ile de France (the "state" I'm in) has Paris in it, it has it's own special mega public transportation system. Mega mega mega, there's buses and trains everywhere. But I did it, without hitch. Which, unfortunately, makes for a boring story.
Vacation! Next two weeks are off! I'm going to Paris and I'm going to buy things! And see cool things! And I might go skiing too, I don't know.
Vendredi there was no EPS (piscine - the swimming class) because...again, I don't really know. Thomas, Nicholas (not the cousin) et moi sommes allé à chez Nicholas, là nous avons fait nos devoirs de physiques et joué Unreal Tournament. Which I'm surprisingly good at, usually I'm terrible at those kind of games.
Ah, I want to be done typing...Do I have anything else to say? Trèsor is a cereal (this is for Matty) here in France, it's like coco puffs, but 2 - 3 times the size and filled with fudgie chocolate brownie stuff. It was good, but I had it only once, it's too much for me...
Okay, okay, I'm done now,
Taylor en France
Les reves
Mercredi: 11 fevrier
J’ai eu 3 reves le nuit dernier, ou 3 reves je souven. 2 were of Mr. Pringle’s class. It was weird, because not a whole lot of special happened, Mr. P was just telling a story about when he was young. Except, the second physics dream, he was asking my about the voice acting I did for a spin-off of The Simpsons, which focused on Bart and his friends when they’re a little older (none of this is real, this is dream stuff). The last dream freaked me out though. I can’t remember, but it may have been in the physics room, too. Anyways, somehow or another I had managed to stick 3 or 4 needles through my first 2 fingers, because the dream began with my complaining about the needles. I reached to pull them out, but whenever my other hand came near, the needles wiggled and moved. I conclude that my hand was magnetized, or as I would yell later in the dream “magna-effing-tized.” So, I tried again but it hurt too much, so I went to someone else, I asked in some way for assistance in removing the numerous metal spines that pierced my fingers; however, when he moved his hand near, the needles yet again painfully twisted and writhed. This is the part where I ran around the class, adding extra profane syllables to otherwise harmless words and showing my needled fingers to everyone who dared to look. Oddly, there was no blood. Eventually, much like Arthur and Excalibur, I was forced to tough it out and wrench the things from their fleshy holding place. Due to the twist or my desperation, the first needle came out sideways, ripping my nail nearly in half - whoo, gotta take a breather here. If anyone knows how I’m like with damage to nails, you could understand the twitchiness and nausea that’s accompanying this recount. Why recount it, then? Maybe I’m a sadist. Anyways, it’s starts bleeding a little, and I realize I pulled it out wrong. Oops, back to swearing. At this point, someone much bigger then me grabbed my wrist and slid another one out. Trop beaucoup pour moi, as I figure, parce que j’ai reveillé.
Not actually sure if I finished this one or not, oh well,
Taylor en France
J’ai eu 3 reves le nuit dernier, ou 3 reves je souven. 2 were of Mr. Pringle’s class. It was weird, because not a whole lot of special happened, Mr. P was just telling a story about when he was young. Except, the second physics dream, he was asking my about the voice acting I did for a spin-off of The Simpsons, which focused on Bart and his friends when they’re a little older (none of this is real, this is dream stuff). The last dream freaked me out though. I can’t remember, but it may have been in the physics room, too. Anyways, somehow or another I had managed to stick 3 or 4 needles through my first 2 fingers, because the dream began with my complaining about the needles. I reached to pull them out, but whenever my other hand came near, the needles wiggled and moved. I conclude that my hand was magnetized, or as I would yell later in the dream “magna-effing-tized.” So, I tried again but it hurt too much, so I went to someone else, I asked in some way for assistance in removing the numerous metal spines that pierced my fingers; however, when he moved his hand near, the needles yet again painfully twisted and writhed. This is the part where I ran around the class, adding extra profane syllables to otherwise harmless words and showing my needled fingers to everyone who dared to look. Oddly, there was no blood. Eventually, much like Arthur and Excalibur, I was forced to tough it out and wrench the things from their fleshy holding place. Due to the twist or my desperation, the first needle came out sideways, ripping my nail nearly in half - whoo, gotta take a breather here. If anyone knows how I’m like with damage to nails, you could understand the twitchiness and nausea that’s accompanying this recount. Why recount it, then? Maybe I’m a sadist. Anyways, it’s starts bleeding a little, and I realize I pulled it out wrong. Oops, back to swearing. At this point, someone much bigger then me grabbed my wrist and slid another one out. Trop beaucoup pour moi, as I figure, parce que j’ai reveillé.
Not actually sure if I finished this one or not, oh well,
Taylor en France
I apologize for the unedited state these posts are in
Le week-end: 7 - 8 fevrier
The French cheat. They stole our word. “Weekend” en français est “le fin de la semaine.” Which kind of has a cool ring to it, so I don’t know why it got replaced with “weekend.” I guess weekend is easier to say. The letter K, however, isn’t terribly common in the French language, I’ve noticed, actually I noticed it year two of French class, but never had the go-juice to look into it further. I’m stalling.
Thomas had school Saturday morning, I didn’t. I’m not entirely sure why I don’t have to, but I don’t. I don’t really tend argue against the ability to sleep in and not to go to school, consequence-free. Thomas, Quentin et moi avons regardé le film Final Fantasy: Advent Children en français. C’est un très bon film (I’m pretty sure “bon/bonne” is one of the adjectives that gets to ride in front of the noun). In fact, it’s one of my favorites. One of my favorite works of art too, it’s just so nice to look at. We didn’t get to finish, we went to the market with Phillippe. It was disappointingly similar to Pike Place Market, and I hope I didn’t disappoint them by not being as overwhelmed. Sometimes I think they want to overwhelm me as much as possible, sometimes I think it’s just France. Either way, it’s kind of fun. Anyways, the market was fortunately covered, because it snowed for the third time since I’ve been here, however the snow doesn’t stick. It’s probably all the concrete and cars. There was an old man playing an accordion in the courtyard area by the market, so that was a nice Frenchy addition to the experience.
Scene missing.
I went to the mall with Phillippe and Magdeleine, to buy a present for Guillaume (the nephew of Magdeleine, who’s birthday party we were driving to that night. Fun fact: He lives in Vatan, which is said the same way as a phrase meaning “get out.” For the longest time I thought they were saying his name was Vatan, and I thought “why would anyone name their child a homophone of a phrase such as that?”). We went to the Virgin store. I’m not exactly sure what Virgin is. Is it just the company of some eccentric guy who wants to own the world? Or a group of people-savvy entrepreneurs? Aliens sent down to usher us into the future 1960s sci-fi movies painted for us? Whatever it is, and whatever their motives, I think it’s kind of cool (I typed “scary” the first time…). Anywho, the Virgin store has comic books, books, CDs, video games, electronics, movies, stuffed animals (yeah, I did a double-take too), and I’m sure plenty of other treasures. Well, we (I say “we,” but I didn’t buy anything) bought 3 comics (one of which a dirty one) and an underwater themed book (the ones filled with cool pictures that you never end up looking through the whole thing), then they bought some things for themselves, then we left. This was the shopping adventure that was supposed to also include the purchase of my maillot de bain, but I got to commence the awkward conversation of “je ne peux pas nager.” But, I can’t. I can’t swim, every time I do I have to be re-taught and that’s because I don’t like to swim, I just don’t. D’accord.
And then we drove. For two hours. That’s about an hour and 40 minutes longer than I was expecting, but I slept, so it’s all good. C’est tout bon. We got there about 20h00, I was still drowsy, and I was introduced to 20-30 French-speaking family members. Most of them were nice, but I did get a little bit of the “you need to speak slower for him” (tu as besoin parler plus lon pour lui) I even got from a kid probably a year or two younger than me “I don’t speak English” (je ne peux pas parler anglais) when I was trying to speak French. Okay, I’m no good, but I try. I’m pretty sure it was all in the best intentions, or at least good humor.
Dinner lasted several hours, and involved multiple leavings and returnings to the table, but it was pretty good. There was 7 teens (including me) present, some of which (not including me) were playing a computer game that they seemed very interested in that I wasn’t awake enough to want to be taught how to play. That sentence was very poorly structured. I didn’t really do much and was happy when they wanted to watch a movie (la Voyage á la Centre de la Terre), because then I could go sleep guiltlessly. Of course, I don’t think any sleep commencing around 1h30 should carry a burden of guilt.
Oh wow, that was a week ago, I really fell behind in these blogs pretty quickly. The time has flown by…
Moral of the story: too many French people talking at the same time hurt my head, the meals can take upwards of a couple hours, Twilight is equally popular here, and Magdeleine’s sister fixed the torn pocket on my jacket. So I ended it so abruptly, I…I actually have no excuse, I’m just lazy.
Lazy, lazy, lazy,
Taylor en France
The French cheat. They stole our word. “Weekend” en français est “le fin de la semaine.” Which kind of has a cool ring to it, so I don’t know why it got replaced with “weekend.” I guess weekend is easier to say. The letter K, however, isn’t terribly common in the French language, I’ve noticed, actually I noticed it year two of French class, but never had the go-juice to look into it further. I’m stalling.
Thomas had school Saturday morning, I didn’t. I’m not entirely sure why I don’t have to, but I don’t. I don’t really tend argue against the ability to sleep in and not to go to school, consequence-free. Thomas, Quentin et moi avons regardé le film Final Fantasy: Advent Children en français. C’est un très bon film (I’m pretty sure “bon/bonne” is one of the adjectives that gets to ride in front of the noun). In fact, it’s one of my favorites. One of my favorite works of art too, it’s just so nice to look at. We didn’t get to finish, we went to the market with Phillippe. It was disappointingly similar to Pike Place Market, and I hope I didn’t disappoint them by not being as overwhelmed. Sometimes I think they want to overwhelm me as much as possible, sometimes I think it’s just France. Either way, it’s kind of fun. Anyways, the market was fortunately covered, because it snowed for the third time since I’ve been here, however the snow doesn’t stick. It’s probably all the concrete and cars. There was an old man playing an accordion in the courtyard area by the market, so that was a nice Frenchy addition to the experience.
Scene missing.
I went to the mall with Phillippe and Magdeleine, to buy a present for Guillaume (the nephew of Magdeleine, who’s birthday party we were driving to that night. Fun fact: He lives in Vatan, which is said the same way as a phrase meaning “get out.” For the longest time I thought they were saying his name was Vatan, and I thought “why would anyone name their child a homophone of a phrase such as that?”). We went to the Virgin store. I’m not exactly sure what Virgin is. Is it just the company of some eccentric guy who wants to own the world? Or a group of people-savvy entrepreneurs? Aliens sent down to usher us into the future 1960s sci-fi movies painted for us? Whatever it is, and whatever their motives, I think it’s kind of cool (I typed “scary” the first time…). Anywho, the Virgin store has comic books, books, CDs, video games, electronics, movies, stuffed animals (yeah, I did a double-take too), and I’m sure plenty of other treasures. Well, we (I say “we,” but I didn’t buy anything) bought 3 comics (one of which a dirty one) and an underwater themed book (the ones filled with cool pictures that you never end up looking through the whole thing), then they bought some things for themselves, then we left. This was the shopping adventure that was supposed to also include the purchase of my maillot de bain, but I got to commence the awkward conversation of “je ne peux pas nager.” But, I can’t. I can’t swim, every time I do I have to be re-taught and that’s because I don’t like to swim, I just don’t. D’accord.
And then we drove. For two hours. That’s about an hour and 40 minutes longer than I was expecting, but I slept, so it’s all good. C’est tout bon. We got there about 20h00, I was still drowsy, and I was introduced to 20-30 French-speaking family members. Most of them were nice, but I did get a little bit of the “you need to speak slower for him” (tu as besoin parler plus lon pour lui) I even got from a kid probably a year or two younger than me “I don’t speak English” (je ne peux pas parler anglais) when I was trying to speak French. Okay, I’m no good, but I try. I’m pretty sure it was all in the best intentions, or at least good humor.
Dinner lasted several hours, and involved multiple leavings and returnings to the table, but it was pretty good. There was 7 teens (including me) present, some of which (not including me) were playing a computer game that they seemed very interested in that I wasn’t awake enough to want to be taught how to play. That sentence was very poorly structured. I didn’t really do much and was happy when they wanted to watch a movie (la Voyage á la Centre de la Terre), because then I could go sleep guiltlessly. Of course, I don’t think any sleep commencing around 1h30 should carry a burden of guilt.
Oh wow, that was a week ago, I really fell behind in these blogs pretty quickly. The time has flown by…
Moral of the story: too many French people talking at the same time hurt my head, the meals can take upwards of a couple hours, Twilight is equally popular here, and Magdeleine’s sister fixed the torn pocket on my jacket. So I ended it so abruptly, I…I actually have no excuse, I’m just lazy.
Lazy, lazy, lazy,
Taylor en France
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