Caffeine is life...

Mademoiselle has:
-Court-métrage to finish ASAP (found three actors at the time being, hopes that two important female characters will be played by the actresses she really wants to have... I'll update...)
-Bac de français épreuve écrite on monday, June 8th, math and physics-chemistry-biology on 9th, épreuve orale on 10th...
-AP World History and European History exams on the 20th and the 21st... A week to learn 8000 years of the history of a few dozen civilisations and historical zones...

At least, at the end of this very exhausting week, we'll have the GRADUATION and the PROM!!!
Let's talk about that. Well, it is true that american girls stress much more than we do on these two related events, maybe because they happen to be the last moments they spend in high school. We, on the other hand, get diplomas and hear speeches with all the warm and fuzzy thing, then party for a second. And afterwards, the whole vacation seems to last a minute and we're back in senior year, with the stress of the bac blancs, college application, and mostly the fact that in a year we won't be there, and most of us don't know where they'll be in a year.

When I think of it, the idea of going to college is exciting, but the idea of leaving the lycée is kinda scary. I mean, this school meant a lot to me, I don't need to repeat how it helped me define who I really am in every way...
I just imagine myself at fall break 2010, coming back from college (ideally NY or Chicago) to spend some time in DC, cuddling up again in my dear bedroom and taking a bubble bath... and then coming to visit the lycée, seeing old faces, etc...
Ok, I really need to get there before.

Well anyways now, I am under waaay too much pressure, and it's all over. My head is hurting, and no bloody medicines are working. My muscles are hurting, my back is hurting. My vision goes blurry sometimes. And I'm freaked out of not being perfect enough. The second after TPE, I snapped. I had been holding a tremendeous amount of pressure and stress since september and when I went out of the bloody classroom, I cracked. Of course, I cracked at home many times but it was always for indirect reasons, and that day I was just unable to stand all the pressure anymore.

I mean, you know how you try to enjoy relaxing, etc? Well I'm bloody unable too! I mean, let's say for once in a lifetime i decide to take a bubble bath. No matter how wonderfully confortable it can be, I still can't get my mind away from all the stress of school. School. Studies. French. History. (bloody) TPE. Everything. I try sports, I go skating and see myself thinking of school instead of focusing on my skating. I dream of the worst possible scenarios as I'm at school or passing my bloody bac.
Even when....., I find myself thinking of school. That one's really corny. No comments.

It's funny how certain things loose their importance at your eyes. Like trouble with family. That was waaay too stressful last year, and now I'm like, wtvr, things'll eventually get better.
Same for idiots at school. And for that obsessive maniac who keeps reading my blog and leaves nasty comments : first of all, you're a real coward: You've got something to tell me, say it out loud and don't play your little "Anonymous". Second of all, did I ask you your opinion? Third of all: You're lame and you suck. Go have a life and get over with spamming me.

It's not as if you're affecting me in any ways. You're barely a waste of time.

Ugggh. Bloody idiots. And the world's full of those. Eww. Psycho.


Mademoiselle is tired. So is the battery of her laptop. Thus Mademoiselle is going to sleep for a few hours...

OMG, I said ''I'' and not Mademoiselle...
Well anyways, I'm coping with a giant load of work, and happiness because we're about to have the cutest president in the world and in the history of humanity (okay, Louis XIV was kinda cute, ok, seductive, but he, a republican? He would consider it as an insult... Sorry my darling spiritual husband number... I don't know anymore. Doesnt matter...)
So tomorrow I'm gonna try to catch a glimpse (is that a right expression) of that great wonderful man who's maybe (yeah, well it's always hard to politicians to keep their word..) gonna change a lot of stuff in this country...
For example, college costs... Well it's true that there are always solutions for everybody but the 4-year tuition at NYU... That's could be a lot, a lot of shoes...
But an NYU degree followed by another nice degree from a good graduate school, that can end up being a lot a lot a lot of shoes + some intellectual developpement + good experiences + personnal pride...

Well before having the whole Manolo Blahnik collections (like Carrie Bradshaw), I better work my way through première and terminale...

Okay, what else does Oh-Bum-Bum darling bring to us...?
Health care... Well I just hope that the services will be more satisfying...
I remember that once I had to go to Georgetown Hospital... And I felt like I was about to catch a virus right there... Anyways facilities definitely need a nice coat of paint and some sanitizing... Actually the whole health system needs updating.
Anyways, I'd really like it if plastic surgery became free.
Okay, I have my full-confidence moments and my full-hating-my-body-omg-I-look-terrible moments. Well I guess everyone does. Even guys (that's a good sign given the careless monkeys that exist today... Well maybe if they care of their bodies, there is a tiny hope for a woman's feelings...).
Anyways, plastic surgery, used with extreme moderation, could make me feel a little bit better about myself.

I'm talking of the ''put all what's there here'' operations (1+1) (that's a metaphor, since we can't technically recycle what's ''there'', that's infortunately not yet possible), that we can also call switch downside-up... I am sure you get what I mean. In my very special case, I desire to dramatically reduce ''down'' but slightly increase ''up''... Maybe I'll totally decide not to do it... The third one is about making the shape of something better..but yet I don't know.
The problem is that in the US, it's not only terribly expensive but it's also done so badly sometimes... that the results make you look worse. I know a lovely lady who only wanted to make her nose a little bit shorter... Not a very difficult operation. Well now.... it's terrible. And she can't even fix it. Well, the beauty of her heart can compensate...

Anyways, I'll guess that I'll do major plastic sugery in Lebanon. Doesn't cost a lot and good results are guaranteed. How can I be so sure....? Well it's simple. The lebanese population is very small, nothing compared to the US. So the doctors' population is even smaller. So the plastic surgeons are even less. So it's very easy to bust out bad ones, ones who operate without any degree in their mother's bathroom in an old appartment (dramatization...), and to go straight to the good ones.

But still, I haven't decided yet and I might change my mind loads of time... Anyways it's not that much of an important issue, being intelligent and self confident is more important than anything else... And maybe the solution is just to exercice a little bit and probably wait till I become a thirty-year-old woman who will laugh when thinking about what her little version was saying or writing on her blog...

That, if by then an army of pink-dotted-green dinosaurs don't come and eat the human population, or a meteor doesn't hit earth or whatever.... Lol. Oh my god, I just start laughing at the absurdity of those thoughts while I'm supposed to be freaking out...
Suppposed? Nope, actually. I think we have to enjoy each day of our lives, of course, we have to care about the future but not too much because everything could be worse...

Anyways, now I guess I'm done with spiritual-be-good-little-human-beings-philantropic-philosophy.... I guess I'm definitely enjoying tomorrow... Well, in twenty years I'll be telling my history students who aren't born yet that I was there, for one of the most important days in the country's history...

And in 30-40 years, it'll maybe be my inauguration.... LOOOOOOOL.... Why not? It's true I'm not born in the US but things can change, and fortunately I'll do my best to change them... Who would have thought fifty years ago that a black man would ever become a president? That's a miracle. Made by the humans' will to progress and leave absurdity behind. Maybe tomorrow there'll be another miracle.
I mean, how can the fact that you're born on a spot that's on different latitude and longtitude alter your intelligence and your ability to rule a country? Maybe one day americans will be conscient that this law is as ridiculeous as the one their ancestors believed in, the one that allowed them to treat black people as their inferiors...

Anyways, maybe the White House will become the Pink House.... JUST KIDDING!!!!
(I'll just update the leather on Air Force One... And the color of dollar bills... Why can't we have them more colorful, like euros?)
Okay, those details don't matter A LOT, there'll be the whole world to fix....



But now, I'm enjoying this precise moment... I'm happy, feeling good.... and in love...
but that's a complete different story. No place for lyrism. At least not right now...

There is one thing I know: I am seriously disappointed by someone in my surrounding and ashamed.
Yes, it's difficult to have your kids growing up. But no one ever told you to have kids! When your daughter meets someone, you have to be supportive except if that someone is a dangerous asshole. But when you brag and swear by your daughter's intelligence, that she supposedly inherited from you, you must try to trust her and not consider her as a complete idiot who would go out with anyone.
Instead of encouraging her to find happiness, you act like a stupid racist white trash and forbid her of seeing the guy. You start acting completely paranoid. Your expression, your movements, the look in your eyes - everything wants to make your daughter throw up. You almost admit that you'd rather see her with a stupid fat dirty alchoholic asshole like the one you married and you escaped than with this guy who was very polite with you and very courteous. You threaten her to take her back to hell if she stays with this guy.

I would be ashamed of my own mother acting this way.

And I'd rather become sterile at the second than see/hear myself telling my kids what this woman has said. I'd rather die right now than later encourage my children to be racist and homophobic. But worse, encourage them to repeat the same mistake their mother did and that almost destroyed all their lives.

Actually, I like the week before the vacations, the waiting, the Christmas atmosphere... It's just cute. And I'm very happy because today something good happened, and saturday, at my party, I met a guy that was just... amazing. And we haven't yet started to discover each other but I'm very happy about it... A suivre.

Well, for this vacation, infortunately I won't be able to forget what Rochambeau means (^^) because I have a LOT of work... as always.
But still, on fifteen days, you can enjoy relaxing in your bedroom... Relaxing means cuddling in front of the TV in the most comfortable clothes ever (okay, on garde la nuisette de soie) with a big amount of chocolate (I"m thinking MMs... but something else too) and watching Sex and the City without feeling guilty because it's not very intellectually stimulating...
I kinda miss long, warm bathes with a lot of bubbles, that smell either coconut, wild berries, passion fruit or orchids... But since I've watched Psycho, I'm kinda scared of getting murdered in my bathroom...
Well, otherwise, Christmas is a good occasion for my favorite sport after figure skating - shopping.
It's funny but I remember that day at Macy's when I decided to try white pants. Okay, I have a serious issue with white - I like to wear it with black and gray because it's really wonderful, but most of the time it makes my little callipyge look enormeous. Actually it's like if unconsciously I don't want to wear it because of this. So one day, I realize that I have no white pants in my closet while almost every woman on earth does, it's almost become a basic in a wardrobe. So I'm off to Macy's with the very stubborn thought that I won't move from there before I've bought a pair of white pants, eventhough it's very tempting to blow it away and get some shoes. I get there, get a few pair of pants to try...
First one - too small. F... this, ça commence merveilleusement bien.
Second one - turns out to be for pregnant women. Kinda immoral... And it's kinda big on me at the belly, I absolutely don't want a reason to fill it.
Third one - too small. Patience bichette.
Fourth one - too small.
Fifth one - no button on the waist.
Sixth one - too small.
Seventh one - the zipper is broken. It would fit perfectly however.
Eighth one - costs 200 bucks. I'd rather buy shoes, and chocolate.
Ninth one - too small.
Tenth one - has a stain on the butt.
Eleventh one - too small.
Twelveth one - too small.
Thirteenth one - too small.
Fourteenth one - too small. I'm getting pissed off.

I go to return all of these, but I am unable to open the door. I push on the lock, hit it, push again...
I'm stucked in a fitting room where someone has written "fuck" on the walls. (Note: I'm not voluntairely using an insult, I'm just writing what was there).


(Article continued on April 8th, 2009... because Mademoiselle doesn't like to keep unfinished work...)

Worse, I get my cellphone, which has no signal and the battery is slowly dying... The last thing I want to do is yell like a crazy for someone to come and save me... So I call my mother. After a few moments : ''Please leave a message for.....''. I resist against smashing it on the lock to open it and I call my aunt. "Please leave a message for....''. At least she has recorded her name... I call my mother another time. Then my aunt. Then my mother. Oh yeah, I forgot to say that I had to stand up on a wooden bench with my hand raised as high as I can to get a signal and each of this call was one fifth of desperate attempts.
Then, my cellphone lets me down. No more battery. Dead. Muerte. Adios or whatever.

No need for CPR, although I've tried. I'll just skip corny details for the convenience of my most beloved readers.

I realize I must start screaming my lungs out. I hear someone getting in the hallway.

"Hello, excuse-me, I have a tiny problem over here... I think I'm stuck in the dressing room...''

My history teacher always said I have a terribly low voice. "Parle plus fort, j'tentends pas....''

But my conscience/instinct is definitely forbidding me to use any barbaric way to get out of this, i.e. hitting on the door, screaming (although it has a ''Rose in Titanic'' thing...)...

And my survival instinct tells me that I need to get out of this thing because this is the only time in my life where I can go shopping, I've been there for half a goddamn hour, for what, again? Trying goddamn WHITE PANTS!!!

I decide to use my historian intelligence and work on that lock again.
Pull.
Pull.
Pull.
Pull...


Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand....

OPEEEEEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(had to end this story anyways, after five months of putting it for tomorrow........)




So white pants are kept inside while Mademoiselle runs to the shoe store...
After that, it's either shoes or ice-cream (mint and chocolate chips)...


Note: On monday, April 5th, Mademoiselle FINALLY BUYS WHITE PANTS!!!!!

Actually, it's more like disappointment.
But on the other side, I'm relieved.

Not long ago, I was in a relationship with a person I thought was the most wonderful and intelligent I've ever met. Suddently, that person blows off everything. I do my best to fix it, but what is there to fix?
I ask help from a person which I thought was a close friend, and instead, this one ends up taking the whole thing personnally because the person I'm with hasn't told her about "their" sexual orientation.
Anyways, I wish I never trusted her.

And on the other side...
"Une personne normalement constituée" would use dialogue to solve a problem, not just blocking you off MSN and leaving a comment on a picture just because there's some 50-year-old man in the background...
Anyways, this excessive jealousy shows that I had serious illusions on that relationship.
It was not jealousy? What is it, then?
Why can't people behave goddamn normally?

Anyways, I'm just happy I didn't fall deeper emotionally. I'm just happy I've had this misadventure now, during my youth, and not later, when it would've been harder to get out of it. Basically I think that's what our teenage years are about : mess around with people so we don't end up marrying some guy that will blow off our money on alchohol and drugs, cheat on you and beat you, and of course with a bunch of kids that make divorce completely impossible...

I'm also glad that this happened now, and not a few hours because the bac of french, or worse, the TPE or the bac of history...

I seriously doubt that love exists. It's more like an illusion.

Bichette, whatever. The most important thing for you is history, isn't it? Not some stupid children games like relationship stuff... You've kinda passed that age...