The General

there was a decorated general with
a heart of gold, that likened him to
all the stories he told
of past battles, won and lost, and
legends of old a seasoned veteran in
his own time

on the battlefield, he gained
respectful fame with many medals
of bravery and stripes to his name
he grew a beard as soon as he could
to cover the scars on his face
and always urged his men on

but on the eve of a great battle
with the infantry in dream
the old general tossed in his sleep
and wrestled with its meaning
he awoke from the night
just to tell what he had seen
and walked slowly out of his tent

all the men held tall with their
chests in the air, with courage in
their blood and a fire in their stare
it was a grey morning and they all
wondered how they would fare
till the old general told them to go home

[CHORUS:]
He said: I have seen the others
and I have discovered
that this fight is not worth fighting
I have seen their mothers
and I will no other
to follow me where I'm going

So,take a shower, shine your shoes
you got no time to lose
you are young men you must be living
Take a shower, shine your shoes
you got no time to lose
you are young men you must be living
go now you are forgiven

but the men stood fast with their
guns on their shoulders not knowing
what to do with the contradicting orders
the general said he would do his own
duty but would extend it no further
the men could go as they pleased

but not a man moved, their eyes gazed straight ahead
till one by one
they stepped back and not a word was said
and the old general was left with his
own words echoing in his head
he then prepared to fight

[CHORUS]

go now you are forgiven

I have a couple friends who sing and play guitar, and they thought that this song was perfect for exchange. I love it so much, and I hope everyone can learn a little something from it. 

On a different note, I woke up realizing that I'm leaving in a good 20 hours to go to a town and people that I haven't seen for almost a year. I have question upon question buzzing through my head: How am I going to fit 23 kilos into a suitcase? How am I going to wake up at 3 AM tomorrow? Am I still the same person that got off that plane 10 and a half months ago? It's hard to tell. I feel like I haven't changed much, only because I have been the one changing. But what would someone else think? I'm excited, but worried at the same time.

I've been wondering as well if I've been what someone would call "successful" as an exchange student. Do I speak French as fluently as I'm supposed to? Did I integrate with my classmates as much as I should have? Did I go enough places? Do enough other activities? I don't know, but I loved this year, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else. 

I wanted to say thanks for everyone who helped me this year-especially my parents- for helping with all those stupid documents to fill out, all those trips to New York for the visa, paying for all those bus trips, and being there for me every step of the way, even when I was so homesick that I didn't know what to do with myself. You guys all helped make this year the best one of my life. 

Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.

It's not a year in a life. It's a life in a year.

Mixed Emotions

Two weeks from now, I will be on a plane bound for Detroit, which will later go to Syracuse, back to my family.
It's so weird saying to people that I'm going home soon. For a year, this was my home. My friends were my friends. My families were family. Do I really need to leave this second world to go back to my first one? Does this year really need to come to a close?
These past few weeks, I said good-bye so many times. I cried. I hugged. I held on to best friends for dear life, afraid that this would be the last time I'd see them. It's so hard to say good-bye, or even "see you later" to a group of people you've gotten so close to this whole year. It's hard, but it's something all exchange students have to go through. We all feel that emptiness inside as we leave our friends for the last time. We all have a certain attachment to the people here, to the country, to the other exchange students living here, that people who aren't exchange students can't understand completely. We want to stay, but we can't. We have to go back.
But at the same time, we are excited about going back. We're happy to see everyone- our friends, our family, our pets, and sleep in our own beds. We want to go back to living our "old lives", but at the same time, that life is never going to be the same. Some people might even change it completely. We will look at our world from a new pair of eyes. After being gone for so long, are we going to fit in again? Are we going to find our place in our "old new" country? These questions wander through our heads, but only in time will we figure out the answers.
The clock is ticking. Time is running out. For some of us, it already has. I remember the first Rotary weekend of the school year, we were all talking about how much this year was going to rock. We talked about all the time we had. We had the whole year ahead of us. Only now do I realize that a year goes by way too fast. I got off the plane. I blinked. I'm here.
I'll never forget this year. The exchange students- in my Rotary district and those I've met on the bus trips. I'll never forget my school, and all the amazing friends I've made there. I'll never forget my host families. Without them, I wouldn't have made it this far. I'll never forget the trips I went on. How many people my age can say they've been to Paris? Or Barcelona? Or Venice? Or Prague? Not very many. I'll never forget French. Not just the language, but the culture, the people, and the food. I'll never forget. I don't want to forget.
I've encountered so many people this year. I've seen so many places. I've tasted all kinds of food. I came to France an American, and now, I feel like I'm coming to America as one of the French. I'm sad about leaving my new "home away from home", but at the same time, I couldn't be happier to come back. This year was something unforgettable, and I can't wait to take the experience home and share it with everyone else.

The First Good-Bye

Why does tonight, have to end?
Why don’t we hit restart,
and pause it at our favorite parts.
We’ll skip the goodbyes
If i had it my way,
I’d turn the car around and runaway,
Just you and I.

Today, I had to start my good-byes. Today, I held back my tears as I hugged my friends from older classes- people that have finished class, will take their exams, and go off on vacation. The people that were so nice to me from the beginning to the end- that included me, encouraged me, and were true friends of mine.

Today, I realized even more than before how much this country means to me. I realized how much it's impacted my life. I realized that letting it go is going to be nearly impossible.

Today, I'm having trouble letting go. I'm having a difficult time processing things. The day was a blur. The sun was out, but I didn't feel very happy. Classes are ending, but I wish they weren't. 

Today, my friends wrote in my book. Some wrote poems, some wrote letters, some wrote one page, some wrote two. One person even wrote me a song. It was in nearly perfect English. It was beautiful. I couldn't have asked for better friends here. I don't want to say good-bye. I don't want to leave this.

Today, I was sitting in class next to my best French friend I've ever had. It dawned on me then, that a week from today, I'll have to say good-bye to him too. He was there for me every second- even when no one else seemed to be. He helped sort out my problems. He made me laugh when I was homesick. He made me stick it out when things didn't seem like they would get better. He will always have a special place in my heart. He knows so much about life for someone that is only sixteen. He taught me more things this year than some of my teachers. He is truly an amazing friend. Saying good-bye to him will be too hard, and I'm sure he doesn't want to say good-bye to me either.

I hate good-byes. I hate the empty feeling in my chest when you hug a close friend, knowing that you might be hugging them for the last time. We hug tighter to try and compensate for that feeling of loss, but it's no use. There's always a bus to take, a train to catch, or a parent waiting in their car. Good-byes can't last forever. That's why it's called a good-bye. 

So here I am. Here I am, hating that I have to say good-bye to this. Here I am, wondering how I'm going to fit everything in my suitcase. Here I am, beyond sad, and yet happy at the same time. The feelings of leaving are so mixed, I don't know what to think anymore. It's not going to be easy to leave. It's not going to be easy saying good-bye.

I'm already saying good-bye. I already miss this country,  and I still have a month to go.

Sois Toi Même, Jusqu'au Bout

The Clock is ticking. Every second gone by is a second closer to that plane in Mulhouse at 6:30 in the morning. I used to have time. I used to tell myself that I had time. Now, I can't accept the fact that time is slipping even faster through my fingers.
I'm afraid of leaving. I'm more afraid of leaving France than I was of leaving America. I have a life here that I don't want  to say good-bye to. I wish there was a door from America to France that I could just walk through whenever I wanted to see the other side. But the world is a far bigger place than that. Far bigger than I imagined.
In 2 weeks and 3 days, I'll be out of school. In less than 3 weeks, I'll be leaving for my tour of Europe. In less than 50 days, I will be going home. I will be leaving my new life behind to restart my old one that will most certainly be different.
Yesterday, we put on our play for theater class. I was scared out of my wits. I felt unprepared. We all felt unprepared. We were the first scene. We started the play. We were the first impression. If we messed up, everyone would remember. I remember being back stage with Fanis, one of my acting partners, shaking out of utter fear. The audience would be looking at us. They would be watching our every move.
When I walked out on that stage, with Katie right on the other side of the stage, I immediately felt less scared. We knew what we had to do, we went out there, and we did it. We made the audience laugh more than every other scene. We giggled, we twirled, we danced the tango, and we did it. We had our errors, sure, but we made it through the whole scene, and everyone had so much fun that they didn't even notice them. Afterwards, we all hugged each other. We did what we thought, at the beginning, would be impossible. And for that, I feel so great about myself. I couldn't have done it without them, though. Fanis, Katie, and all the other amazing people in our theater class. Most importantly though, I couldn't have done it without our teacher, Madame Meutelet. Before the play, we all stood in a circle, holding hands, as if we were going to pray. She went through all the usual things a theater director always says- "If you forget a line, make something up." "Having fun is the most important part." "You guys worked a whole year for this. You're ready." But then, after saying all that, she said something like this: "Il y a que une autre chose qu'il faut dire: MERDE." And we all cheered and laughed, and it made us feel a little less scared and a little more focused. You see, my theater/French teacher is a very intelligent woman. When she swears, she does it in the most dignified sort of way. She is unlike any person I have ever met, but just in this past year, she has become somewhat of a role model for me.
And this brings us to the title of this blog post. Mme Meutelet said this to our class today. She was talking about the concept of mediocrity in society. That's what one of the parts of our play was about (Rhinoceros- Eugene Ionesco). The rhinoceroses that the people were turning into symbolized giving into the mediocrity in humanity. The mediocrity made them monsters. They were intelligent, but violent, and all that came out of their mouths were noise. There is only one person in the play that doesn't give in to this mediocrity. He wishes to stay human, but he pays the price of losing everyone in his life. Madame Meutelet said that 95 percent of humanity is mediocre. We all give in to the standards that society sets for us. We need to stand out. We need to live our lives to the fullest, but most importantly, "Il faut que tu sois toi même jusqu'au bout" (You need to be yourself, until the bitter end). And that's what I want my life to be like. I want to DO something. I want to make myself known. I want to save things, travel, help the world... but most importantly, I want to do all this, and be myself, until the bitter end.

Le Risque Est Ça:

A few months ago, I was standing in front of a painting in a modern art museum. It was a simple painting, with only a few large geometric shapes scattered in a random manner across the canvas. I hated the painting. It was too simple. "Anyone can paint a few rectangles on a canvas" I said. I walked away.

Today, my opinion on how I look at "simple" works of art has changed. This wasn't just a random occurrence, though. This morning. I was sitting in French class struggling to understand the poem by Baudelaire that was placed in front of me:

L'Albatros

Souvent, pour s'amuser, les hommes d'équipage

Prennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers,

Qui suivent, indolents compagnons de voyage,

Le navire glissant sur les gouffres amers.

À peine les ont-ils déposés sur les planches,

Que ces rois de l'azur, maladroits et honteux,

Laissent piteusement leurs grandes ailes blanches

Comme des avirons traîner à côté d'eux.

Ce voyageur ailé, comme il est gauche et veule!

Lui, naguère si beau, qu'il est comique et laid!

L'un agace son bec avec un brûle-gueule,

L'autre mime, en boitant, l'infirme qui volait!

Le Poète est semblable au prince des nuées

Qui hante la tempête et se rit de l'archer;

Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,

Ses ailes de géant l'empêchent de marcher.

— Charles Baudelaire

I never understand a French poem completely the first time I read it. I still had to go find the translation on the internet to know everything. The poet compares an albatross among men to a poet in society. An albatross, majestic and graceful in the air above the ships at sea, gets captured and placed onto the ship's deck. On land among men, he is ugly and clumsy. His wings are trailing on the ground because of their immense size. The crew even poke at him and make fun of him. He says that the poet resembles this bird. High above, he "frequents the tempest and laughs at the bowman," but when he comes down to earth, people jeer and mock him. His long wings prevent him from walking. 

I love this poem, but believe it or not, it has hardly anything to do with my changing of opinion. We began analyzing a phonetic chaismus in the poem "L'un agace son bec avec un brule-gueule". Our teacher explained to us that this line, and even this poem, took  hours and upon hours to construct. This isn't just something the poet pulled out of a hat. Someone then asked her if that was true for all works of art. She said no, but sometimes it is. It's not necessarily the amount of effort put into the work, but the thought behind it. Then, she told the class a (true) story that I never intend on forgetting.

A student walks into the testing room, ready to take his "Baccaloriate" for philosophy. The writing prompt was to explain the concept of a risk, or something of this sort. The teacher grading this student's paper was flabbergasted at first to find that the student's paper had nothing but 4 words written on it: "Le risque est ça:" ("A risk is this:"). The rest of the page was completely blank. The French teachers decided to look into his records to find out what kind of a student he was. He had an overall average of 17/20 (mid to high 90's in America) and he was particularly good in Philosophy. If he had been a bad student, the teacher would have flunked him. However, this student ended up getting an 18 on his paper. That's like getting a 5 on an AP exam.

Today, I learned a lot of things. I learned that ducks don't make good friends. I learned that Europeans respected (or at least tolerated) the social set-up of Brazilian cannibals in the 16th century. However, most importantly, I learned that an excellent artist can make simple art, and that this simple art was made for a reason. It was made to make the viewer think. Sometimes, you need to think outside of the plain, red rectangle on that canvas. 

Time: My Worst Enemy

I am going to start this post by listing EVERYTHING I've done in the past few months. I apologize for not posting more than I should. It's been so long since I've had a stable amount of time to make a blog post, and then there are times when I do, but I just don't have the energy to compile my thoughts and write them in an entertaining manor. Sooo here goes:

I'm here in my bedroom of my third host family, and I wonder, "Where the heck has the time gone?" I feel like I got off the plane yesterday, and that I moved from host family to host family in a matter of hours. Every trip, every Wednesday afternoon, every experience just seems like a blur. I wish I could make the world slow down. I can't leave this country in 85 days! In one way, that seems like such a long time, but in others it feels like no time at all. I can't leave yet. I just got here! Right...?

It's amazing how time can be your best friend and your worst enemy. How sometimes a second is something cherished, and other times it's something you wish would go by faster. When I'm laughing around a table with my host family, realizing that I am understanding the conversation, participating in the conversation, I make the most of every second I spend around that table. I can't zone out. If I zone out, I miss something. That second will be over and I'll miss it.

The time I spent with my first host family was great- I was discovering things, learning the language, eating amazing food, and having the time of my life. The time went by at a normal pace. I could enjoy what I was doing because I had the time to enjoy it. In my second host family, the events morph together into a blur. I found myself having just as much fun, but it was harder to savor the moments because the time went by even faster. Every family dinner, every party, every episode of Supernatural with my host brother, every cake in the oven turned into a blur of one giant event. It's hard to differentiate between every little thing we did together. It's simply a blur of positive family togetherness. It's awesome, but at the same time it's really annoying. Now, here I am with my third family. A week has gone by already. I met half of the extended family. We already have things planned until the day I leave. These three months are going to go by even faster than the last three. I'm excited to go home, but at the same time, I can't imagine myself leaving. I'm a part of this family, but at the same time, I'm a complete foreigner. I understand, but at the same time, I don't.

So that's the past few months in a nutshell- learning, understanding, trying new things, going to new places, time flying by faster than I would like it to. OH, and I went to Paris! How cool is that?!

Sherrin (my INCREDIBLE Australian friend) and I in front of the Eiffel Tower!