Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan

WARNING: THIS IS NOT FUN STUFF. THIS IS WHAT'S GOING ON IN MY HEAD. YOU MAY NOT LIKE WHAT IS WRITTEN HERE, AND PLEASE DON'T TAKE OFFENSE TO ANY OF IT. JUST A WORD OF WARNING.

    I'm so depressed I can't hardly talk about it. See, it's so bad that I put in a double negative... I've really gone astray there. But really, that's an exaggeration. I'm not depressed at all, just saddened, I suppose.
    Earlier this evening I went to an orientation back at the hallowed halls of our school (read: heh, I think not), for the new iPads our grade is receiving... and it just got to me so bad. I'd really rather not take a Holden Caulfield approach to life, because, as much as it hurts me to say this, my beloved Holden is just not healthy,but I really was bothered. Like, a lot. When you're at a 2-week sleepaway camp for artsy and intelligent teenagers that are JUST LIKE YOU (meaning they write their own plays in their spare time, and poetry, and write actual snail mail, and paint murals on their kitchen walls, and, above all, tolerate my constant spew of Ouran/Death Note/George Costanza references), followed by a 2-week trip to goddam--oh no--EUROPE, our town is not exactly a sight for sore eyes. And jeez, am I feeling sore right now.
    This town is the worst place for me, or anyone who's DIFFERENT. Holden would hate it too. (Don't you love how we're on first-name basis now?) It's just so... stupid. I mean really. That's why this summer was the greatest--I got to get away from all the phoniness and stupidity at least for three months and be with people who are above things like, well, Instagram, and now I'm delving into stuff that I can't post on a public blog, so it'll stay within the pages of my cherished smelly-leather journal instead. And if your beliefs are different than mine, I applaud that, but I'm going to be honest here. I would suggest leaving this page, if you think otherwise. As well as this whole blog. I'm really not trying to say that you, dear reader, are unwelcome in reading this. It's actually the opposite, I love sharing ideas with people! But if you're going to get angry with what I'm saying, I'm attempting to save you from all that bitterness by just coaxing you into moving on with your life. Just like Lemony Snicket would do, hey? And I apologize in advance if you DO feel provoked by this or something, but I'm a writer, and a rather controversial one at that. I speak my mind. So hey, don't say I didn't warn you...
    On that happy note, I'm sorry about all that! New paragraph.
    So I'm trying to set myself on the right track. I'm going to surround myself with things from France, from Deutschland, from Suisse and Belgium and Luxembourg and Nederland, and from everywhere else that I want to be. And then I won't be here, and I won't get all caught up in it. You know, IT. Indescribable stuff. I simply call it 'it' and that suffices, I guess. I speak in a patchwork of languages now, like, "Maman, danke pour il latte!" or something like that, and that helps. I eat my French granola in a cereal bowl from Monoprix when I get up at 6:00 a.m. to have a run or a bike ride or a poetry session. Or to write short stories about my neighbors, or to write monologues in Spanish or German or Italian. The majority of my school supplies were purchased at various stores (Monoprix, Geant, etc.) in France. Hey, my very location is Maastricht, Nederland! So you see, I'm really all right.
    And my soon-to-be Spanish teacher will probably despise me when I start answering stuff on tests en Francais. Oops.

All the girls around her said she had it coming

    I feel like I'm missing a ton of opportunities to take pictures of street fashion while I'm in Europe, but it feels so weird just taking pictures of people just walking the streets. So I'll put down some memorable ensembles that I saw here, in a list, because that's what I love nose. Did I just write nose? Wowww. Most.

STREET FASHION of KÖLN, PARIS, BAYEUX, and LYON

-guitar case covered in travel and Riot Grrrl-esque stickers of a traveling musician girl!

-thick leather belt with denim shorts and a nasty yellow-brown-orange-coloured t-shirt that I personally loved, on a waitress

-neon pink tights, yeah!

-a bowler hat, a red blazer, and black knee socks on a girl walking along the Seine... my dream outfit.

-Andy Warhol banana shirt that this girl Anna from Blue Tree had

-Neon green baggy cargo pants

-red turtleneck sweater and miniskirt (okay, that wasn't street fashion, that was Marcia Brady...)

-Black Butler t-shirt, not that I can really comment, having never actually WATCHED Black Butler, but it was cute

-fairy-like lacy white shawl on a Japanese girl on Champs-Élysées

-navy blue knit dress with patterned oversized sunflowers on it

-sweater and button-down shirt with Peter Pan collar, basically an outfit that I own... but mine's not as spiffy

    And, well, plenty of other GREAT things that I either (sadly) forgot or am too tired to remember. It's time to play some poker with my youth hostel buddies--just kidding, I'm not that cool, I mean my brother. So this is goodbye! Au revoir. 

    And oooh, I almost forgot, but our plans have changed AGAIN. We're going to Geneva tomorrow! Papá and I are bringing our running sneakzzz so we can have run in 4 countries this trip--Germany, France, Switzerland, and possibly Luxembourg later on. I'll be contemplating this as a contender for my Stuff to Do as a Hermit list...

    And dayyyyyum, the end of episode 15 of Death Note! Light is a freaking genius.

You and me are floating on a tidal wave

    Hi. I've not written in a while, but it's cool because no one reads this except me anyway, so it's kind of relaxing. Not having the obligation, you know?

    We're in the nasty, drab, is-this-actually-France? city of Lyon, and we should have seen the warning signs. It's like the freaking French HOOD or something. It's that bad. It's like a bad German city (no 'ffense, Germans, I love Germany actually). But it's very glittery at night.

    We were in Paris for six days, so I guess I got spoiled from that. We then went on to Normandy and stayed at a Chambres d'Hôtes on a farm! It was so cool. I spoke my minimal French with the little girl whose family owned the place, Anaelle, and I made her a friendship bracelet and we hung out with the horses a lot, and the pony, Achum (supposed to emulate the sound of a sneeze). I really didn't know much useful except adjectives (and how would YOU feel if you hung out with someone and all they said was something along the lines of "it's pretty" or "it's funny!" or "it's very fast"?! Frustrating, no?) and the phrase «comme ça» so there were a lot of jokes I made in which the punch line included "comme ça?" Weak. But hey, she laughed! I was a sensation SOMEWHERE.

    Jesus, I need to sleep. Goodbye. Bonne nuit.

    These'll look great with knee socks! If only I could've gotten the cool pink holographic oxfords from Monoprix, and the Rolling Stones satchel... ah well, there's always tomorrow.

Want to know how I feel?

Je suis TRÉS heureux et pacifique.