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.