Valentine's Day...

Valentine's Day.

Like all things, this day always arrives whether we want it to or not, and regardless of our feelings towards it.

In my 17 years on this planet though, I've come to find out that there are only two types of Valentine's Day participants, each type expressing only one emotion: anticipation...or dread.

TYPE #1: the hopeless romantics

Emotion: anticipation

And in the "type #1" category, we have two subgroups:

THE COUPLES

We all know this group. They're the ones who are standing in front of your locker EVERY MORNING playing tonsil hockey. And after many attempts to get them to move just 6 inches in either direction, your only option is to literally pull their heads apart. Yes,these couples exist in everyday life, but things just get 10x more intense on Valentine's Day. They're the ones who buy eachother flowers, and expensive jewelry, and do the things that they should be doing everyday, but feel doubly obligated to do on this occassion. Unless you're in this group yourself, they're pretty much just the group that makes you want to puke.

THE SECRET ADMIRERS

These are the individuals who are inspired by "The Couples," and can't wait for Valentine's Day to come so they finally have an excuse to make a move. These are the one's who wake up on February 14th every year, and believe that something magical is going to happen. You can spot these types easily: just look at any group of teenagers. More discreetly, they're all the kids that you can just tell took a little bit more time to get ready this morning. Then the more obvious, all the girls who are literally wearing an article of clothing with hearts on it. These are the people who save up all their hope and courage for this one day, write annonymous love letters, and pray to God that a flying baby in a diaper shoots them in the back with an arrow.

TYPE #2: the sinics

Emotion: dread (secretly) ANGER (outwardly)

Subgroups:

THE BELLIGERENT

This is the group that wants you to think they don't care about the holiday. They wear black, tear down decorations, and scream obscenities at the happy couples...and for one reason only: they're bitter. They're bitter out of jealously, and they're jealous that they can't participate in this holiday. Usually they have a broken heart due to a recent breakup, and most likely they were the ones who recieved the news, not the ones who did the breaking. Of course they dread Valentine's Day, because they have to go through a whole day watching happy people have what they don't. They find this unfair, which is why they lash out at everyone else.

Last but not least, we have...

THE GENUINELY OBLIVIOUS

These are the people who make it halfway through the day before realizing what day it really is. And upon hearing the news, absolutely nothing changes. They aren't bitter, or hopeful, or angry, they just could honestly care less. Valentine's Day is just another day to them, and they are unaware of the interminable love fest and complete madness going on around them.

There is, however, one more group that I forgot to mention. They are, of course, the minority of the holiday, but still hold a designated place of their own...

this group is rightfully named:

THE AMERICAN EXCHANGE STUDENTS IN FRANCE

Consequently, this is the group that I find myself in. Basically, this is an extension of the "Genuinely Oblivious," with a few more specifications. These are the people who woke up this morning, thre on a sweatshirt and jeans, and went to school. It's not necessarily that they don't care about Valentine's Day, it's more the fact that it doesn't matter whether they care or not. Regardless of how they feel, they are still in France, while all their loved ones are still in America. They find it ironic that they are in the love capital of the world, yet the have no desire to celebrate it. They realize that they are surprisingly thankful that they don't have to do the awkward, Valentine's Day gift exchange with their boyfriend, (or girlfriend) but they do miss the yearly cards and chocolate form their parents, and the company of their friends. They hope everyone is having a great Valentine's Day, however you are choosing to spend it, and they want you to know they're thinking of you.

^^^ see what I did there? Yeah, I know, I'm lame.

Well anyway, I hope you have a TOTALLY GAY* day.

* and when I say "gay," I mean happy, of course.



                                                          

Happy Birthday, Katie!

Katherine Ann(e) Mahoney.

I'm really a big fan of you. You're one of the only people who totally understands me, and understands my complete lack of maturity. Not only that, but you lack the same amount of maturity that I do. Evidenced in the mini reese's schemes.

I hope you have a swell 17th birthday, and go see a rated R movie for me. You're a boss.

I love and miss you so much <3

Being Attacked by a Mad Cow > Badminton

Who invented badminton? Whoever it was, I'd love to have a few choice words with them.* Wikipedia says it is a real sport, but I beg to differ. My teachers always tell me wikipedia is the website of the devil anyway**, so I refuse to believe its contents.

*If you are a fan of badminton, even the slightest bit, you might want to stop reading this, because it's about to get ugly.

**that is, wikipedia and google translate, of course. Ironic because google translate was one of my only vices my first couple days in France.

Definition according to Wiki: "Badminton is a racquet sport that is between two players (singles) or pairs (doubles), placed in two half-sites separated by a net . Players called badistes ^[1] , score points by hitting a drive with a racket to make him fall in the attacking half. The exchange ends when the wheel touches the ground."

Definition according to me: "Badminton is France's haughty- taughty version on tennis, created simply to aggravate American exchange students in gym class."

If you think I simply have an excessive amount of animosity towards something as insignificant as a gym activity, you're wrong. I have an UNHEALTHILY INSANE amount of hatred towards every monday morning from 11:00- 12:00 pm, when I am forced to 'participate' in this mockery of my hand- eye coordination.

^^^ The fact that my raquet has a 'smile' on it is also quite misleading, seeing as smiling is the absolute LAST thing I think of doing when I see it.

And no. My hatred does not only stem from the fact that I'm the laughing stock of my class... or maybe that's entirely it. I'm not completely aware of the reason myself.

I don't think it's from embarrassment, because I learned a long time ago how much easier life becomes when you can laugh at yourself. When I was younger, someone told me to 'never take yourself too seriously.' That's great advice, but somehow over the years, I changed that advice into 'don't take anything seriously. At all. Ever.' But that's another one of my character flaws that I won't get into right this moment. But I digress, being the laughing stock of gym is not what gets me.

Maybe it's how hard French people defend the activity that irks me. A piece of advice: DO NOT diss badminton in front of a french teenage badminton champion. Nothing good will come of it. In their heads, no American sport can ever compare. And believe me, I tried them all. But alas, that's not the reason either.

I've been lucky. No, I can't say I've ever been the best at any one given sport. But I can say that I've tried them all, or nearly all, which has played to my advantage many times in previous gym classes. No, Suchoza never picked me to be the captain of the basketball team, but I was never one of the last 5 girls against the wall that nobody wanted on their dodgeball team, either.

Interestingly enough, I can honestly say that gymnastics is the sport that has come in the most handy for me in the past.

"Are you the dorky, awkward, 4- eyed, brace- faced girl? Do you want friends more than anything in the whole world? The solution to your problems is simple! Throw a random backhandspring on the pushup mats, or nonchalantly walk around the gym or your hands. It works like a charm!"

^^^ And it really does. Even in France. After last monday's gym class, guess who has friends now? THIS GIRL.

I've always had a natural ability to be mediocre at every sport, and as sad as it is, I'm proud of that.

Yes, this is definitely the root of my animosity. I realize now why I couldn't pin in to one thing: because I couldn't admit to myself that I suck.

I may not have been able to admit it, but the results in my gym teacher's grade book don't lie. 34 students. 33rd highest score? Payton Mummau. 34th? Some girl who's only been to class one time in the past 8 weeks.

My mediocre ability is failing me, and I never thought I'd see the day that this would happen. And it's devestating. Going from being the girl who did 16 pull- ups during the 5th grade Presidential Physical Fitness Test, to the girl who can't serve to save her life, is unbearable.

You may be wondering why I care so much about that trivial matter, and why I'm treating it like the end of the world.

Well, because it is the end of the world. My world. Gym class is one of the only things in my life in which I'm not separated from everyone else by a language, and now it's ruined.

Of course, I'm only being melodramatic. I'm just living my golden rule: 'don't take anything seriously. At all. Ever.' I enjoy making a fool out of myself, in all honesty. That being said, I can't help but wish these next 3 weeks before the new gym unit would pass a little bit faster...

Happy Birthday, Dad, Sam, and Evan!

Happy birthday to the best dad in the world. I miss you so much, and I hope you have the best birthday ever :)

Happy birthday to one of the only people who truly understands me, Sammitch. I hope today is incroyable, and I can't wait to start our bucket list. #loveyoubud

and last but not least, happy birthday to the only person in my life that I fight with just as much as I don't. Regardless, I'm glad we met, and I'm glad we stayed friends through all of our immaturity and pointless high school drama.

BOOBIES!

The inevitable dream...