I'm in love

It's true. I am in love...but I'm not talking about a human. I'm talking about a blog. I'm having a "blog-mance" with Samuel Dennis Melnyk, and it's wonderful. It's a pretty healthy relationship, I'd say. He loves my blog, and I obsess over his. It was love at first read.

And because I don't know how to responsibly manage my free time, I made this wonderful creation.

^^^ if we made "blog babies," this is what they would look like

So now I'm done wasting your time, and I highly suggest the next thing you do is this:

visit http://samisblue.wordpress.com/ It'll change your life. No lie.

Happy Birthday, Annie!

Happy Birthday...

 to the first person who disregarded my outer dorkiness, only to find out that my inner dorkiness was 10x worse.

to the only true vampire I know.

to my first real friend.

Happy 17th, Annie. Here we are, 10 years later, still discovering new, dorkier things about eachother. I miss you so much, and I love you dearly.

                               ^^^ "yes, but when do I get my C-a-R-e c-A-r-D-s?"

Holy Merde.

So here's one important word that you really MUST be familliar with to survive in France...

Merde.

"Merde," is pretty much the equivalent to every swear word in the English language, and the French use it like it's going out of style.

Anyway, last Saturday night was one of those "holy merde" kind of nights. I mean literally, it was a holy night, and I was in deep, deep, merde.

I go to a catholic private school. That part is pretty self- explanatory. But up until last Saturday, there was really no indication that this school had any religious affliliation whatsoever.

However, last Saturday night, all the Dufossez's et moi piled into the Peugot and headed to Beaucamps (my school). We were guided right upstairs to the giant study hall room, which was already overflowing with students of all ages...and all their parents.

The event is called "Messe de Rentree," and it's basically just a "welcome back to school" gathering that Beaucamps has every year.

It starts out with a GIANT, traditional, catholic church service in the study hall. There are several priests, gospel, serman, music, and communion...you know...the works.

I have to be honest. It was boring. Though I'm not blaming my boredom on my incomprehension of the french language, this time. Just like in american church, the only words necessary for full understanding are, "ouvrir vos coeurs a Dieu." (open your hearts to God)

Don't get me wrong. I think believing in The Big Man is a great thing. I'm just not a big supporter of organized religion. And no, it's not only because I like sleeping in on a Sunday morning, mom and dad.

And in my opinion, catholic church is the worst possible place to "ouvrir vos coeurs." But I'm not going to elaborate on my religious beliefs over a blog, because trust me, you WILL disagree, and you WILL most likely be offended. You can just side with every other adult in my life, and blame my convictions my naive adolesence.

By the time communion rolled around, it was nearly 8 o'clock, I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and I was starving.

The priest gave brief instructions on how to obtain one of these sacred wafers, and everyone in the room dispersed immediately.

As I waited in my designated line, I pondered the correct way to recieve The Body, and I hoped that "Amen" would be sufficiant in both the american and french church. As I approached the front of the line, my stomach started growling, and I knew I would drop over dead if I didn't eat something pronto.

Eventually it was my turn, so I walked up to the priest, one of my hands cradeling the other, and extended my arms. The same movements I had done 100 times before. He placed the wafer delicately in my hands, and said some sort of blessing en Francais.

At this moment, I nodded slightly and said, "J'ai faim."

WHAT?!

That was NOT the "Amen" I had been rehearsing in my head. I then stood there for a second, trying to figure out if I had actually just said that aloud.

The look on the priests face confirmed my disbelief...

With that, I quickly put my head down, shoved the bread in my mouth, and endured the walk of shame back to my seat.

>>>> For those of you not so keen on the french scene, "J'ai faim" means "I'm hungry."

MERDE.

Happy Birthday, Jaclyn!

Just wanted to say happy 17th birthday to my dear friend Jaclyn! The only person in my life who won't give up on me becoming a cheerleader. LOLZ. I hope it's the best birthday ever. I miss and love you! :)

Emploi du Temps

A lot of people have been asking about my schedule, so here it is. EXACTLY.

Lundi (Monday):           7:50- 8:45- MATHS (calculus)
                                     8:50- 9:45- PHYSIQUE (physics)
                                     9:45- 10:05- BREAK
                                     10:05- 12:00- EDUCATION PHYSIQUE (gym. Oh how I loathe gym...)
                                     12:00- 12:40- REPAS (lunch)
                                     12:45- 13:25- PHYSIQUE SOUTIEN (my second physics class)
                                     13:35- 14:30- HISTOIRE/GEOGRAPHIE
                                     14:35- 15:30- FRANCAIS (french)
                                     15:30- 15:45- BREAK
                                     15:45- 16:40- ANGLAIS (english)
                                     16:45- 17:40- HISTOIRE/GEOGRAPHIE
Mardi (Tuesday):           7:50- 8:45- LATIN
                                       8:50- 9:45- MATHS
                                       9:45- 10:05- BREAK
                                       10:05- 11:00- PERMANENCE (study hall)
                                       11:05- 12:00- FRANCAIS
                                       12:00- 12:55- EURO ANGLAIS (biology in English)
                                       12:55- 13:25- REPAS
                                       13:35- 14:30- HISTOIRE/GEOGRAPHIE
                                       14:35- 15:30- ECJS (french citizen class...it's really dumb)
                                       15:30- 15:45- BREAK
                                       15:45- 17:40- PERMANENCE
Mercredi (Wednesday):  7:50- 8:45- LATIN
(my favorite day!)           8:50- 9:45- HISTOIRE/GEOGRAPHIE
                                        9: 45- 10:45- BREAK
                                       10:05- 11:00- TPE (my third physics class)
                                       11:05- 12:00- FRANCAIS
                                        THEN HOME, JAMES!
Jeudi (Thursday):            7:50- 8:45- MATHS
                                        8:50- 9:45- ESPAGNOL (spanish)
                                        9:45- 10:05- BREAK
                                        10:05- 11:00- LATIN
                                        11:05- 12:00- MATHS
                                        12:00- 13:25- REPAS
                                        13:35- 14:30- FRANCAIS SOUTIEN (my second french class)
                                        14:35- 15:30- ACCOMPAGNEMENT TITU (class meeting)
                                        15:30- 15:45- BREAK
                                        15:45- 16:40- PERMANENCE
                                        16:45- 17:40- TPE
Vendredi (Friday):          7:50- 9:45- CHIMI (chemistry)
                                        9:45- 10:05- BREAK
                                        10:05- 12:00- SVT (biology...this is where I dissected the mouse...)
                                        12:00- 12:55- ESPAGNOL
                                        12:55- 13:25- REPAS
                                        13:35- 14:30- ANGLAIS
                                        14:35- 15:30- SVT
                                        15:30- 15:45- BREAK
                                        15:45- 16:40- FRANCAIS
                                        16:45- 17:40- ANGLAIS
Samedi (Saturday):         8:45- 11:00- EURO ANGLAIS (biology in english...kill me)

So, it's a pretty heavy schedule, but it definitely keeps me busy. Needless to say, I pretty much live my life for Wednesdays...
                            
                           

The Sadistic Literature Kid

I'm fairly certain that I have mentioned this before, so I'm sorry to continue beating this dead horse. (Wow. I just realized how sadistic that sentence sounded) Anyway, although I've said this 1,000 times...I HATE SCIENCE...AND MATH. I have CLEARLY established myself as a literature kid. And if you weren't aware of that, I'm telling you now. I'm pretty sure that even in 3rd grade, I opted out of learning my multiplication tables to read Harry Potter. (As much as I hate to admit it, I was quite the Pott Head in my younger years...) I would much rather read a book, or write a poem, than calculate how many grams of sulfuric acid are traceable in a concentrated hydrogen- sulfate mixture. Which, ironically enough, happens the be the question written on the chalkboard, and currently burning a whole through my face.

However, though I'd rather be anywhere but physics right now, today is going a whole lot better than this exact class went a week ago. I got a little behind on some calculation we were doing, and BOOM. It was like someone broke the Hoover Dam. Within 5 minutes, my paper was drenched in tears, I was sniffing uncontrolably, and I was asked to leave the classroom. Trust me, I wasn't crying over physics. Something triggered my "randomly start bawling" section of emotions, and that's just what happened. I really don't remember what I was thinking about to get myself so worked up, but it was embarassing, none the less. I mean, I didn't even cry when the dog I had for 13 years died, and now all these French kids thought I was crying over a freaking physics problem. Awesome. Way to establish yourself as a sissy, Brooke. Bravo.

Oh, how I despise physics. No, I'm not going to cry this week, but I really have no idea how to even start this equation, and I'd much rather be doing this anyway. Like I said: L-I-T-E-R-A-T-U-R-E K-I-D.

It's quite funny, because most of the teachers seem to be afraid of me. They see me frantically scribbling in the back of the classroom all period, but when they come over to see what I'm doing, they are confused because of the whole French/English barrier. At least, that's what I can tell from their faces. Then they give me an uneasy smile, I grin back devilishly, and they back away with their hands up. <<< (ok, my mother tells me I exaggerate sometimes, so I apologize for that last sentence, and my rude sense of humor)

I was just actually just thinking the other day about how easy it would be to write a bomb threat at this school. I'd never get caught. Of course, they wouldn't even know it was a threat, let alone the fact I don't even know how to build a bomb, so we wouldn't even be sent home. Therefore, there's no point. How's that for sadistic, eh? Okay. I really need to stop now. I'm creeping myself out.

I do really hate math and science. There's no question about that. But dissections are a different story.

My lab group: Camille, Justine, and me

On the first day of Biology, Camille and Justine started scheming, but of course I was in the dark. So a week later, there I am dissecting a cow eyeball, while they're in the corner gagging and shaking uncontrolably. It turns out, their plan was to have me do all the dissections. At first, I was a little skeptical of the idea because honestly, the only animals I've ever dissected were a clam and a worm...if they're even considered animals, I really have no idea. (Yet again, LITERATURE kid) So I hardly consider myself experienced enough to be the designated dissector of our group. A clam and a worm, OH, INTENSE!

So last week we were told to bring our lab coats to class, and I knew what that meant. About halfway into class, a little white puff ball was placed in front of me, laying there dead next to a pile of shiny metal death tools. Our (my) main objective was to understand the mouse's reproductive organs. (We're studying the reproductive system in Bio...) The strange thing? I REALLY enjoyed the dissection. Maybe too much. SADIST!

                                 ^^^ before I actually knew what I was getting myself into...

Camille, Justine, and I have a good system going, though. I dissect the animals because they're terrified of it, and they do all the fancy scientific data collecting and analyzing, because I'm terrified of that. We're both physically incapable of doing eachother's jobs, therefore, we're a great team.

                                               ^^^ I couldn't look when I was stabbing it

                                                   ^^^ yeah, I'm intense, I know

                                                         ^^^ cute guts, mousey :)

      ^^^ this one's for my dad, because everytime I think about mice, I think about
                                                                  him <3

The only downside, or upside, depending on how you look at it, is that we can NEVER stop laughing. I mean, let's be honest. I SO wish this wasn't true, but I'm not mature enough to handle the sexual reproduction unit...even in France. So really, there's absolutely no possible way to contain myself while dissecting a mouse penis. Simply impossible
      

I do LOVE literature classes, and I wish I could say that I get better grades in them than in science, math, but I'd be lying. I thought all my English teacher's fancy vocabulary and philisophical opinions were confusing (and sometimes a load of crap) in America, but it's 10x worse in France. Not only do I not understand what she's trying to say, but I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT SHE'S SAYING.

My French class in reading a book called Voyage au Bout de la Nuit, right now. (I don't have to read it because it woud be virtually impossible) From what I've gathered during our discussions in class, it's about a war, a man who happens to be an existentialist, and a prostitute. I feel like those are the three main components to every classic novel. Let's see some originality here, people. I mean, c'mon now.

As expected, the students are assigned a certain number of pages to read each night, then they have written tests on the book in class. Obviously, I am exempt from the tests, so I usually just sit there biting my nails, or staring longingly out the window for 54 minutes, but the other day Madame Bernard was a little scatter- brained, and handed me a test. I thought about giving it back, but I decided to just do it, or try to do it, mainly to rescue me from my consuming boredom. There were 7 short- answer questions, and I understood a whopping 0 of them. (mostly because of the sophisticated French wording. OH! And the fact that I have never read the book!) So I just wrote a long paragraph about how my knowledge of the book consists of sex, betrayal, and war. I told her about the books I read last year in English, and the topics I have studied. Then, for my last sentence, I wrote, "Je suis desolee, mon Francais est mauvais encore..." (it means: I'm sorry my French is still bad)

*** I write this at the bottom of ALL my tests, to apologize for my French ability, but I'm pretty sure all my teachers are aware of my less- than- adequate vocabulary due to the fact that I walk around with a bilingual dictionary permanently glued to my face. You know, it would make my life a whole heck of a lot easier if they gave a nice multiple- choice test every once in a while. BUT NO! Make the American girl suffer.

So when we got these tests back the next day, I was expecting a nice little "thanks for trying" note, or some corrections on my French grammar, but I was surprised by what I read.

My teacher had written, "Je serai ravie d'ecrire en anglais comme vous ecrivez en francais..."

TRANSLATION: "I wish I could write in English the way you write in French."

I have yet to get an actual mark in French class, leaving my with a 0 as of this point, but I have to say that I was pretty damn proud of myself for this one.

The Events of Payton's Tuesday...

1) hit snooze three times on her alarm, (one more time than the usual) therefore losing her 10 minute slot in the bathroom. She rolled downstairs at 10 after 7, leaving her just enough time to shove a plain piece of bread down her throat, and down her black coffee.

2) got her math test back. She got a 0, and ironically enough, it's the best grade she's gotten so far. She usually gets a nice little red "X" at the top of the page with a very encouraging "try harder, you stupid American" comment written next to it, so she really does see this as an improvement. I don't know about you, but that would definitely make me want to try harder. I'm coming to realize that the French believe in tough love. They say it takes a true genius to not just fail, but get EVERY SINGLE QUESTION wrong on a test, so she's just chalkin' this one up to her sheer geniusness.

3) ate a personal pizza the size of a big- rig truck tire for lunch today at The Foyer. Her stomach is not happy with her, and coincidentally, her gag reflexes are agreeing with it. Don't you hate when your body wages war against you?

4) hoarded all her friends' (and everyone's within a 10- foot radius of her) soda cans after lunch. Okay, that may be a lie. She may have pried them out of their hands mid- sip, causing mass chaos throughout The Foyer, ultimately resulting in a 46 French to 1 American battle, right in the middle of the restaraunt. But you can be the judge of that one...c'mon, it's Payton. Which story is more probable?

(She was taking the cans for her own personal collection, by the way. Her bedroom is like a freaking dumpster. She has trash everywhere but in her actual trashcan. After two months, she is still amazed that everything is written in French. So she refuses to throw anything away. She has a problem. Alert the media. "Hoarders" could make a pretty decent episode out of her, I do believe.

"American girl, living in France for one year, can't throw anything with any hint of French influence away. How will her hoarding problem ever be solved?" But the better question:

What the hell does she expect to do with it in 8 and a half months, when she has to pack her entire life into two suitcases, once again?

...and to that last question, my friends, I answer:

I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA.

5) is about to go intentionally fail another math test. Or unintentionally. We'll see how it all plays out. Remember...she's a genius.

^^^ moments before WWIII at The Foyer.

^^^ preparing for battle...

Remax!

^^^ my mama's new Remax photo...ain't she beautiful? :)

Mom, I need to take a second and say how incredibly proud I am of you for being so brave and taking on a new career at the stage of your life. You've never been afraid of a challenge, and you have this amazing opportunity because of that. I guess we are related after all. I know you are going to have so much success because of your ability to have a positive outlook on all aspects of your life. I am so happy for you, and I wish you luck in all of your new endeavors this year. You are an amazing woman, and I love you to the moon and back again.

Greetings from...Belgium?

Yep, you read right. BELGIUM. And just to clear things up for you, because I know European geography is confusing, no, Belgium is NOT in France. Belgium is a separate country, but the amazing thing is that I can cross the border between France in Belgium in one hour from my house. It takes less time to travel from France to Belgium than it does to go from Pennsylvania to Maryland, and those two are in the same country.

This past Sunday was unusually hot for an early October day in Capinghem, so after lunch, the family packed up the car to spend the afternoon in Belgium. Something I was EXTREMELY excited about, but the kids didn't seem too thrilled because I'm sure that was not their first time there. And that was confirmed when Camille said, "Bring your money. There's a Pimkie." Pimkie is her favorite department store, so anywhere you find a Pimkie, you find Camille.

The drive was easy, but parking was a whole other story. We drove around for what seemed like longer than the amount of time we actually stayed, in order to find parking. Once parked ON a sidewalk, we made our way into the city of Brugge.

My "English Radar" had no sooner started buzzing when I was bumped by a very sofisticated- looking man in glasses.

"Oh! Sorry!" he said.

It took me a minute to realize that I hadn't just translated his apology in my head, but he had actually spoken those words aloud.

"De rien." I mumbled, out of habit. Then my next phrase actually startled me.

"WAIT! No problem!" It was a little more urgent than I intended it to sound, but it turns out my English still works. He was farther away now, but he glanced back and smiled, as if he had seen the lightbulb switching on in my head...or at least that's what I like to think.

The reason there were so many English- speakers there, is because the commute from England to Belgium is relatively painless, and they all wanted to utilize the beautiful day, too. It's the same reason I always hear British people when I go to Lille on a nice day. It's really kind of cool, actually.

The first thing we did when we got to Brugge, was go into a chocolate shop. I really have trouble saying this, because I feel like I'm betraying my home, but Belgian chocolate DEFINITELY beats out Hershey's, hands down. I know. I'm a horrible Pennsylvanian. But c'mon! It's BELGIAN chocolate! It doesn't get much better than that. AND it's homemade. Hershey's: you've officially been owned.

^^^ one of the chocolates I picked. It says "Brugge."

Anyway, after the mind- blowing chocolate, we went down a little corridor to buy tickets for a boatride down the river. After waiting patiently in line, 35 of us were sardined on a little, what I guess to be, 20- footer. We traveled up and down the river, as the captain told us about each building. First in Flemmish, then in French, and last in English. It was extremely hot, but really interesting. The bridges were the best part. They're so narrow and low that we were told to duck so we wouldn't scrape our heads. Of course, to me, Camille, Robin, and Clara, that meant put your arms up and touch the bridge.

                                                    ^^^ view from the boat

                           ^^^ we had to wait for this boat to go under the bridge before we could

                                              ^^^ Me and Camille during the boat ride :)

                     ^^^ we were getting pretty upclose and personal with the swans...

              ^^^ the guide said this building was important. I forget why. But it's pretty!

                                       ^^^ I love the architecture of the city.

All the shopkeepers in Belgium, like the captian of the boat, speak at least three languages. I think you could walk up to the ice cream counter and order a cone of vanilla in the "Galactic Cybertron laguage of Venus," and the woman would hand you a cone of vanilla. I feel guilty because I can barely speak two languages. Theses people are good.

For the record, I don't even know what "Flemmish" is. It sounds disgusting. To me, it sounds like a language consisting only of clearing one's throat. Then again, I've never actually heard it spoken...but I don't really know if I want to, either.

When the boat ride was over, we walked around town to various shops and stores. Pimkie was closed, which was a bummer for Clara and Camille, but fine for me because I had no money anyway.

                         ^^^ all three are from Brugge's "centre ville." (center city)

I am horrible at keeping money on me. I always forget to go to the mac machine while we're out places, so I never have any money for when we're in places that don't have mac machines...like Brugge.

I think I had about three euros on me in coins though, which I scraped together to buy souvenirs for my family.

Next, we went to a little cafe for tea time. Their specialty? BELGIAN WAFFLES. Yes, I'll answer your question right now: Belgian waffles are better than Eggo. Or any other American kind, actually. And after the waffles, we went to yet another chocolate shop...to take some home, of course.

                                  ^^^ cobble stone streets. They actually exist. lol

                                               ^^^ part of Brugge's church

^^^ yes, you are seeing correctly. There is, in fact, a Pizza Hut right in the center of Brugge. At least the Beligians know good pizza.

                                                     ^^^ Camille and I :)

                     ^^^ Camille, me, and Clara in the town center. Clara looks happy...

I was sad when we had to leave Brugge, because it's such a peaceful little town, and so beautiful, but my sadness ended quickly when Christine told me we'd be back in three weeks during fall break. (It turns out that it's her favorite town, too) She also informed me that we'll be going to Germany and London during fall break too...that was the shocker of the day. But overall, Brugge was great, and I can't wait to go back.