Christmas Blues.

I just listened to that Dean Martin song. It hit me pretty hard.

I knew this was coming. I knew before I even left that I would be in a crappy mood right around Christmas. It feels kinda broken now. Christmas, I mean. Literally my whole childhood I've done the same things every year. And now that it's all gone I fell sorta empty.

No big Christmas tree in the parlor.

No stockings.

No government blockaded sewing room.

And no monkey bread.

I'm scared that I'm gonna feel like Christmas didn't come this year. I'm anticipating a feeling that I'll never have. It makes me long for home and my family. I want to be in the parlor with everyone else on Christmas day.

Now I understand why the kids here asked me if I was going back home for Christmas. It's really hard. But I can call you guys and make blog posts and stuff, so it's not all bad. I just wish it didn't hurt so much.

Also my birthday is coming up, too. We're actually doing a tandem thing next weekend. My friend Naomi's birthday is on the 21st, and mine on the 22nd, so we're doing a big weekend thing. I'm pretty excited because birthday parties are a big deal here. The last two I went to were pretty fun. I wonder what I'm gonna get. . .

So I don't know how long this feeling's gonna last. I hope not too long. I hate being homesick. You cry for no reason and make everyone else sad too. I'll be okay, though.

But for now, more of The Rat Pack!

Limbo.

I always find this concept terrifying. It's the ultimate gray area. You exist in neither Heaven nor Hell, but the uncertainty of your being constantly eats away at the back of your skull like a parasite. It's an in-between, like a lot of other things. As much as this world is filled with grand extremes and stark contrasts, little limbos pop up here and there like groundhogs in a field.

Right now, I can feel things changing. The ground is shifting under my feet and I can sense that I'm about to see the world in a different way. Where I live doesn't feel alien anymore. People don't look "French" to me anymore, they look like people. The language barrier is falling down brick by brick and I'm starting to live the life that I just built.

Yet, I still go to sleep every night curled up in a little ball. I have to count and recount the number of people who like me and hope that in never decreases. Because right now, my friends are my family. The only way I can clearly picture my parents is if I pretend they're right there with their arms around my shoulders and love and support on their lips. I'm truly independent for the first time in my life and it scares the heck outta me.

But my life doesn't suck. In fact, it's pretty nice. The only thing is that I'm learning that once you gain control of your life you're still not really free, you just move up a tier on the stepladder. I still have obligations. I still have responsibilities. I still have deadlines and I'm still stressed. Except now, all of that is on me. My decisions directly affect myself and those around me and this time there's no grown-up to catch me before I fall. I have to be big enough to know what to do, even if I don't.

It's getting colder here. I'm wearing layers more. By the way, thanks for the sweatshirt, Linkers. It's tasteful and it keeps me warm! Yay Night Vale! There's enough fur parkas around to make a new species of mammal, and kids are getting sick more often.

In short, not much has been happening. The days are starting to blend together. I think today is Thursday, but I'm not sure.

This limbo really leaves everything to your head. I'm using my brain more than I ever have before, and it makes me so tired. I go to sleep every night curled up in a little ball and count and recount my blessings:

That so many people like me.

And that I've made myself a good life.

 

Long time away; tons in the kicker

Sorry I've been away. I was moving around a lot but now things are settled and I can come back to this. I've done a lot since I last wrote, so I'll just summarize.

Went to Paris again. Went to the Louvre. I ate at a nice restaurant that looked like it was made by elves. I got a phone. We did Halloween. I was a soldier. Mariane was a vampire. I've been doing better in school, which is nice. I have some pictures, too.

I got to see/go inside the glass pyramid at the Louvre. I didn't know there were two other smaller glass pyramids on either side. I took pictures of some paintings I liked.

Halloween was fun. We carved pumpkins at Margaux's house and then went to a party at Mariane's.

That was my pumpkin. It had two faces and was actually pretty good, considering I had no tracing paper.

So all in all, I had fun. Things are kinda slowing down now. I've been gearing up for the winter. I wrote a song for my parent's but I don't know how to put it up on here. I'll figure something out, I'm sure. Keeping my head high for Christmas. I think I know what I'm gonna get! :D

I did it.

I went to Paris yesterday. Like PARIS Paris. It was awesome and beautiful and it rained and I was with all my friends and ashjshkjfhksjdhkjhazd. I went to a Doc Marten's and a café. We walked around and talked and had fun. Gosh I like it here.

It was actually surprisingly confusing to get around. The streets don't seem to have a lot of order or reason on the ground. I know that Paris was actually very carefully planned out and is actually really impressive city-wise, but still.

The café was expensive as hell. Six euros for a mug of hot chocolate. Like why. It was good, though.

I'm on school vacation for two weeks. I'm staying at Margaux's place right now, but I spent last weekend at Vincent's.

He has so many guitars I may actually cry. So beautiful. Margaux has some too. And a bass. Prepare a eulogy, friends.

I've actually been playing a lot of music lately. Like a LOT. With other people. And we sound pretty good. I guess I'm better singer than I previously thought. Then again, I thought I was a terrible singer. Huh.

After yesterday, I feel a need to see the rest of France. More of Paris. Normandy and Brittany. The south of France and the Alps. All of it. And maybe other parts of Europe, too. There's so much more to see than I previously thought. I can't wait to discover more.

Also, I'm living in a guest house. I've gone from sharing a room to my own room to my own house. It's nice, too. Really nice. Everything's nice. Every thing has been nice. I'm so happy to be here.

I feel like living here is so much more different than visiting. I get a more intimate experience of the country. It's sucked me in and made me remake my image of the world. My image of home is starting to blur and shift.

It's the strangest feeling I've ever had.

Sorry for the inactivity

I'm in the middle of some big changes, but I'll be back in action very soon. Promise. In the meantime, please enjoy this photo of a baby Red-Capped Mangabey.

Joyeux Anniversaire Raphael!

Mardi dernière était l'anniversaire de Raphael. Nous avons fait une petite fête, juste la famille. Je pense que c'est mieux q'une grande fête avec beaucoup d'amis. Elle était bien, sauf q'un petit accident avec la champagne. Les verres la sont du Rum and Coke, mon nouveau boite préféré.

J'ai passé un peu de temps avec ma nouvelle copine, Marianne. Le temps passe vite ici. Déjà un mois. Le français est difficile, mais ça va mieux. Je parle beaucoup et maintenant j’écris en français. Ma famille me manque.

Aussi, je lit des livres en français. J'ai déjà lu Lovecraft, Poe, Bierce, et Doyle. C'est génial. Je dois acheter plus de Lovecraft. Peut-être Bierce aussi.

Oh! My half-hour is up! More to come later!

                  

I miss Ian.

Not that I'm picking favorites or anything. I just miss him in particular. Let me explain.

He and I shared something nobody else really did. We watched the same youtubers, played the same games with the same friends. Now more than ever, I'm realizing how freaking awesome that kid is. For a few years, we fought a lot. Like a lot. Now I have trouble remembering any recent big fight we've had. I kinda like that. And now I'm gone. Right when we were starting to become actual friends.

Alright, I'm gonna talk to you directly now, bud. So listen up.

You get me. We've shared the same room for like seven or eight years. Now I'm alone. I don't have to move your stuff off my bed anymore. I don't have to look for my shirts in your drawers anymore. And I don't haveyou bugging me to use the computer anymore. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss it. I miss you. No one gets my references. No one understands why I make dumb faces. And NO ONE recognizes the Jerma voice.

For twelve bloody years you've been in my life. The most in my life out of everyone in my life, if that makes sense. When you were little you followed me everywhere and copied whatever I did. Now you're starting to go your own way, and I find a part of myself not wanting you to blaze your own path. You were just always there, whether I liked it or not.

And now that you're not here, I've never felt more alone in my room.

I feel likethere's a piece of my life missing. The stuff on my bookshelf isn't mine or yours. The solitary set of drawers holds only my clothes. My hangers only have two jackets, one I brought over and one I bought here. The only indication that I was ever related to you is a little corkboard with a couple family pictures pinned to it. Thomas is on there too.

I bought you something at a swapmeet the other week. Let's hope I don't lose it during the year. I don't think I will.

Keep your head high, kiddo. You've got a lot going for you. I'll even admit that you are, in fact, cuter than me. You little snot rocket. Good luck for whatever you do. Take care of the family while I'm gone.

I miss you so much, but I love you even more.

Duncan.

Why History shouldn't be labled a "Social Science."

I had three hours of history today. One of those hours was a unique class of history in English. For the past two weeks, we have been studying an oil painting be C.R.W. Nevinson (Among the nerves of the world, to be precise.)

The teacher has been forcing, or at least heavily implying, a certain interpretation of this work, namely the abandonment of past values and the fusion of present and future in the industrial age. All that in a 75.3 x 50 cm space. 

I don't see it that way. For me, it's representative of the change of technology in people's lives while they try to hold on to past values (e.g. The church in the background, above all the industrialization). That's just how I interpret it. Nothing wrong with that, it's art. Art is open to interpretation.

She went on to say that during the late 19th century, Britain had an "edge" over the rest of Europe. A blonde kid, probably sixteen, raised his hand and asked what "edge" meant. The teacher then looked at me and asked for a synonym for edge. I offered "advantage." She dismissed that suggestion and decided to go with her own word: power.

Britain had power over Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

That sentence has a lot of implications. She defined power, in this context, as being able to make other countries do what Britain wanted. I tried to explain that saying Britain could make other countries do what they wanted wasn't exactly correct, because they never tried it. At least in Europe. I'm pretty sure I would've known about a British invasion of Europe or a proud European country submitting itself woefully at the boots of all-powerful Britain. They had colonies elsewhere. And colonies weren't really nations. 

But she kept pressing the "Britain had all the power then" conclusion, which was a little unnerving. I knew it wasn't  really correct. My mind then went to an earlier history class, when the teacher was explaining the same thing: Britain had all the power. He also said that during the early 20th century, all of the U.S. was very very religious. Again, I felt like this wasn't completely true. Robber-barons and the highly industrial North were focused on business more than God. Just look at Andrew Carnegie's Gospel of Wealth. That part of the U.S. was all about money. I knew he wasn't completely correct, but I didn't say anything.

So I mulled it over for a while, and came to the following conclusion:

Their history isn't the same as our history. What I'm sitting in class learning is a different interpretation of the socioeconomic situation in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

History is like art more than science. It's open to interpretation. What I think happened may not be what Louise thinks happened. It may not be what Isabelle thinks happened. This was pretty troubling to me. I always thought that history was about finding out what really happened by synthesizing different viewpoints of the same event. That's why it was a social science. Now I can see that my understanding of what history is as a subject was wrong. It's so much more personal than a science. I could never convince my teacher that she was wrong. There's too many contradictions and inconsistencies in both our arguments. History is inexact and unbelievably subjective.

Science is about finding the truth. Scientists gather as much data as they can, analyze it, then come to a generally accepted conclusion. But most importantly, if scientists are wrong, they admit it and find the real answer. History lacks that.

The account of what happened, and especially how things were, varies nation by nation. When I'm told a different account of what happened, it completely throws me off. Originally, I felt like I had to find the real, true story, which would involve mind-numbing ammounts of analysis and research. But I really don't have to find out what really happened definitely completely. For me, now, history is just a series of events that people have agreed happened in that particular order.

We think.

From now on, I'll treat history like art. It's my interpretation that matters, and sometimes there really isn't a right answer.

And that's okay. 

If you made it this far in my post, congratulations! You made it to the end! I'm so proud of you. Have a complimentary Far Side comic strip.

       

Why Europeans picture Americans in the way that they do.

Okay, so this one is just gonna be a big wall of text because I ran out of pictures on my iPod. I promise it'll be worth the read, though.

WARNING: ANALYSIS INCOMING

So I noticed something at school the other day. The administrator, Mme. Rousseau, took me to class herself. I can't remember why, I think I was lost or something. Anyway, when she came into the classroom every single student immediately stood up. All eyes were trained on her as she walked over and explained my situation to the teacher. When she left, everyone sat down. Similarly, whenever we started class, everyone remained standing until they were told to sit down by the teacher. Both of these aspects befuddled me, and so I asked my friend Adrien about it. He said that it was a show of repect for the adults. I replied that in America, you don't do that. Kids walk into class whenever, sit down as they please, and don't stand up when another adult walks in. He was shocked, needless to say.

That's when in hit me: Americans don't add anything. It's always "Oh, you don't have to stand." or "You can sit down when you want." European kids are born into a society that puts a focus on respect and formality. Kids are taught at a young age to stand when an adult comes in, and wait to be told to sit, and so on and so forth. But in America, that formality is absent. We probably look like improper delinquents, comparitively.

France is a place that holds on to it's past values. There are social norms that have been there for hundreds of years. People act in relatively the same way they did in 1714. America, by contrast, is young. We have a completely different idea of how to act and what makes a good kid good.

If anything, we could learn a thing or two from these people.       

So I took the scenic route home.

Most of the surrounding area is agricultural. I actually just got back from a sunset bike ride with Raphael. This place is so green, oh my god. If you climb to the top of one of the many hills and look out, you can see little towns just like Mareil scattered across the landscape. It's very beautiful here.

My walk home from school follows some little paths that run in between the houses. They're pretty handy for cutting time off of walks and escaping police. (Though I wouldn't know anything about that.)

This is the view from my room. Just thought I'd let you guys know.

Also, swap meets exist here. They're called "Brocantes" and are pretty much exactly like the ones back home. People were selling some pretty nice stuff. What you see there is only a little part of it, too. There was a lot of art and a lot of clothes. And literally everyone who was selling video games was at LEAST forty years old. My family participated in it, abd I think they did pretty well. I got a jacket and a watch, too.

Out here it's been raining. (Bonus points if you can guess the song!) And thundering. Spooky   

Friends: Part 1

Thursdays are weird for me. Right in the middle of the day I've got three hours of squat diddly to do. This time is usually spent around town with friends. We go to this little park by the boulangerie/pâtisserie. I was asked to bring my guitar along today, so I did.

As did a friend of mine. It was a really great time and we had a lot of fun. Pierre and I actually sounded pretty damn good, too. We should start a band.

That's Louise and Margaux (Now known as Morgan because she likes the American version of the name better.) They were pretty much my first friends here (I had to sit next to a girl named Juliette in English class, which doesn't count.), and they themselves are pretty proud that they got to the American before anone else did. Word got around, apparently. They told me that before I even came here people had looked me up on Facebook and sent requests. Even now I come home to find new people asking to be my online friend.

I could probebly spend forever talking about each one of my friends and the people here and how bloody helpful they were and blabbity blabbity blah. I'll make it short.

The kids here really are just like the kids in America.

Versailles and other things.

So Versailles was a bit bigger than I expected. I thought it was just the castle and orange trees. Apparently there's this huge park thing, too. Whaddya know.

There's also hunting grounds, which follow a strict NYC-esque pattern.

Louis XIV must've had a real challenge around these parts.

We stayed in the park a little while. We couldn't go into the castle because they were having some elaborate and expensive showcase with classical music. I wonder if the attendees to that ate swan.

But the park was nice. There was a canal with boats and nice big trees and soft grass. I talked about gales I like to play when I'm in public, namely "Find the Spy" and "Future Me."

To play Find the Spy, you survey the people around you and try to figure out who is the spy and who is the assassin sent to KILL the spy. It's kinda fun.

For Future Me, you have to choose an old person from the crowd, and decide that THAT person is you in the future. The you have to figure out how you got where you are and why you look the way you do. I got a well-dressed man in his seventies with a limp. Looks like we're due for another war in the future.

I also got a good chance to connect with the kids. Ludovic escpecially. The parents were both exhausted and Ludovic was cranky. I played with him a little, in the patented Leonard fashion of just throwing him around. I spun him around, bench pressed him, tossed him in the air. The usual stuff. Apparently Isabelle and Raphael don't do that much because he was super excited and active and stuff. Kids, man. Isabelle took a video which I may be able to nab.

I've got growing pains in my legs. I'm probably gonna come back home looking like Jack Skellington. I guess this is what happens when your diet doesn't consist of egg noodles and Saltines.

I finally broke a guitar string. It was the G. Again. It's always the G. We're gonna replace it soon.

My life just got easier.

I no longer have to go to Spanish or a B.S. group work class! Three cheers for not having to take the Baccalauréat!



In other news, I read a Dan Brown book in two days. If you see Deception Point on the shelves, pick it up. It's good stuff.

I've been trying a ton more food, and found a particular taste for breakfast crêpes and croque-monsieurs. Oh, the wonderous combination of ham and cheese.

Also, one of my new friends seems particularly devoted to finding me a girlfriend. Margaux, I don't know if I should thank you or be worried. More on this story as it develops.

My brain hurts.

The brand new Inception method of language learning.

So yeah. Spanish happened.

I sat next to a friend, and it quickly became obvious that this was an immersion class. The teacher (Mrs. Huerta) started off in Spanish, explaining to the class what the adgenda was. Every once in a while my friend would lean over and explain what was going on, but I was still pretty lost. I noticed that, even though I didn't know a word of Spanish, I was picking it up very quickly. I wrote down new vocabulary, and tried to note whatever grammar I could. I was learning a language I didn't know at all in a language I knew a little of. I think that since my brain has been constantly set to language learning mode, I was in the perfect mindset to absorb the language.

The task was pretty simple: Introduce your partner. The teacher changed it for me so I had to introduce myself. I waited until I was called upon and stood up, my lines written clearly on the page I held pitifuly in my hand.

"Me llamo Duncan."
"Tango quince años."
"Vivo en California."
"Soy Americano."
I was pretty proud of myself.

School and why French kids have so much time on their hands.

This is my schedule. On Monday I go to English for an hour, then P.E. for two hours. Next is a one hour break and lunch, then two hours of French. I round out the day with history/geography/economics. Tuesday I start with history, then math, and so on and so forth.

The point is, I have different classes at different times on different days. Even this schedule isn't the final draft. I may have to drop Spanish, thank God.

I've found the school system a little strange. Some kids have long stretches of time where they have nothing to do. Other days they are packed full. It's been a few days and I still have to rely on my friends to tell me where I have to go next.

And speaking of friends, It took me all of one class period to find new ones. My very first class I had was English, and even before the teacher explained who I was I had seat offers. I'd like to thank mom and dad for my face. It's brought me far.

I was really impressed with how helpful everyone was. They translated things for me and guided me to class. One guy, Julien, photocopied his notes from the week before so I could catch up in History. I don't know what it is. Maybe they take pity on me for something?

There are two exchange students at the school. Myself and a boy from Hungary. I met him today at lunch, and he seemed to be in the same boat I was, save for the fact that his french was better than mine. Word got around, I guess, because he seeked me out. I can't escape my age, either. It's only been a day and I've already been asked about my graduating early. We don't even have a Baccalaureat in America. CAN I GO ONE DAY WITHOUT BEING ASKED ABOUT THIS?

The girls are cute, though.

First flight; initial thoughts.

These first few posts will be in English. As I adjust I should start using only French.

The flight here was my very first flight ever. I can not say it was a bad one. The ride was smooth and the food was not as bad as I feared. I watched some good movies (Capitain Phillips and The Grand Budapest Hotel being among them.) and look forward to the French cinema my host mother is so eager to expose me to. There was a small medical emergency that held up our departure off the plane, but I imagine the gentleman is fine now.

I got lost in the airport. Bad. So bad, in fact, that I accidentally checked back in through customs, which cost me a small present for my host mom. (R.I.P. Goat Carmel. You will be missed.) Eventually, though, I foung my way through the terminal, through the baggage claim, and into the arms of my new family.

We drove through Paris to get home. we took the long way because the traffic was pretty bad. Not Los Angeles kind of traffic, but close. My first thoughts were definitely this:

Good God, it's so green. There is vegitqtion and trees and thick grass everywhere. It's almost like they actually get rain here on a regular basis. What a concept. Next were the cars. Everyone has a car, and they all look the same. Trucks are nonexistant. It took about an hour to get home, where I was to be aquainted with the house.

  This is my room. It's on the very top floor. The attic, actually. They converted it to a living space specifically for me, and even went so far as to ask what kind of paint I liked. It's small, but that's a good thing. It's only me in there and I don't need a lot of space. The best part by far is the skylight. It's got a small hatch that I can open up and look out over the whole town. I couldn't ask for a better view. I've got a desk and a bed and drawers for clothes. It's nothing fancy, but I like that.

I get the impression that my new parents, and escpecially my host father Raphael, are excited to have an older child in their home. Their oldest is still in grade school, and so another brain could be a good thing.