"Bienvenue ‡ l'hÙtel Californie. Vous desirez?"
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, l'ampoule grillÈ? Pourquoi est-ce que c'est dans le menu?"
"Nous avons le pain grillÈ et la poisson grillÈ. Pourquoi pas l'ampoule grillÈ?"
"Par-ce que Áa, ce n'est pas bon pour le santÈ!"
"Voulez-vous prendre quelquechose d'autre?"
"Tous les plats sont trop chËre! Celui qui est le moin chËre coute deux cent euro!"
"C'est n'est pas vrai, l'ampoule grillÈ coute moins que Áa."
"«a c'est le plus mauvais hÙtel du monde! Je vais partir."
"Mais c'est l'hÙtel Californie. On peut sortir toujours, mais on ne peut jamais partir."
Madame Belakanovski thought this was hillarious. No one else got it. Oh well. They weren't grading us. (I have fallen back out of her favor, by the way. She now scolds me for three or four minutes when I don't do my homework, whereas when Julian doesn't do his homework, she marks it as missing in absolute silence.)
"Tu ne les a fais pas encore! I tell you that you must do homework! But do you listen? No, you dun listen. T'es trop intelligent, ma belle, trop intelligent! Show me tomorrow, you cannot expect to get good grade if you not work. What is this... she dun do work, she thinks she can get good grade. Oh la la, je ne comprend pas mumble mumble."
In my defense, it's only happened three times so far. So far, I have done much more homework than I ever did in middle school, and even then, I did get a good grade, every term, despite her constant warning that I wouldn't.
I think this thing with my parents has basically blown over. I basically explained it all in the last entry. We talked about it very briefly. My father apologized, and I didn't say anything. Now things are just awkward and I'm waiting for the awkwardness to go away on its own. It does still bother me though, that their resolution to this whole thing is "I hope you'll talk to Ann Whatsherface about your problem with having people in your room." A, Ann Whatsherface does not have magical powers. She cannot just make me affectionate and take away my need for extreme privacy. I will always be introverted, and my parents should respect that, even if they don't understand it. B... And I'm starting to think this more and more... Maybe there is nothing even wrong with the way I am. Maybe it is just weird, and it's only painful for me because I try to fight it instead of just saying, "fuck you society, I am the way I am, I'm going to live with it, and I will find a way to use it to my advantage." My parents obviously don't see it this way. They see it as, "our daughter is emotionally fucked up, but it's okay - she's getting fixed." I'm starting to think I should really stop going to Ann Whatsherface.
Yesterday, the day after the fight, I felt terrible. I wanted to leave and never come back. Never see anyone again, especially my parents. My father had the right to be angry. I am emotionally fucked up. I don't like him. I don't want to live with him, I push him away any chance I get, and I have absolutely no reason for it. It's just instinctive. And if I hate people so much, I might as well just go away and be alone forever and do what I want and be the way I am. When I came home from school yesterday, both of my parents were already home. I couldn't stand to be with thim in our tiny apartment, so close to them, able to hear everything they were saying and doing... So I just left. I took my flute. My mother stopped me at the door. "Where are you going? What are you going to do? Why do you have your flute? Shouldn't you have a warmer jacket? Do you have your cell phone? Do you have your keys? Shouldn't you just take your flute and not the case? Make sure you're back in time for jazz band." When I told her I didn't have my cell phone, she made me take hers. I ran.
I ran a very long way down the highway. Then I stepped over the guard rail and walked a long way into the woods. I walked until I couldn't see any houses or anything, and the sound of cars on the highway was gone. I took out my flute and played for an hour. I played Jethro Tull, mostly. I improvised too. All by myself. I improvised hard, until I was tired and out of breath. I think it would have been pretty good if it hadn't been, you know, one unaccompanied flute.
I was about to go back when I realized that my mother's cell phone was gone. I looked all over for the damn thing, and I just could not find it. I then realized that I was pretty close to Dave's street. So I walked there, to borrow his cell phone, to call my mother's cell phone, so that I could find it. And also because I was feeling kind of crazy and irrational, and didn't want to go home. It took longer to get to Dave's house than I expected. I showed up at his door. I looked into his window. I saw him alone in the kitchen. I knocked.
It was then that I realized how weird the situation was. I was standing on his doorstep a good hour before I was supposed to pick him up for jazz band. I probably looked kind of pale, kind of crazy, and kind of tired. My hair was probably messed up. My mother's car was nowhere in sight. I was carrying a flute case. I said, "Hi, can I borrow your cell phone and give it back to you at jazz band?"
He looked very confused. He opened his mouth and didn't say anything.
It was then that I burst out into manic laughter. "I'm sorry. Oh, very long, very weird story. Um, seriously though, I need to borrow your cell phone."
"Can I hear this story?"
"I think it would take too long."
He looked around. "How did you get here?"
"Um... I walked?"
Pause.
"From where?"
"My house."
Pause.
"Oh. Kay." He pulled out his cell phone and gave it to me.
"Thank you," I said. "Oh, and can you not tell your parents I was here?"
Pause.
"Okay."
"Bye. I'll tell you later, really"
"Alright... Bye."
I walked back to the middle of the woods. I called my mother's cell phone, and found it. I walked back home. I then changed clothes and my mother and I immediately drove back to Dave's house and picked him up for jazz band. He made pleasant conversation with her. As soon as we got out of the car at the band room, he said, "Okay, tell me the story! Alright, let's start with this: why did you have a flute?" I told him the story. I was really tired during jazz band. (JV) I acted really weird and didn't play as well as I usually do, which is only mediocre in the first place. It was later that night that I had that conversation online with him.
I am still feeling slightly weird. (I feel like I am writing weird as a result of this.) I still don't like being at home. Or rather, I like it less than I usually do. It is vacation now. I am not sure what I am going to do.
By the way, the stupid rich spoiled emo kid problem to which I was referring in the last entry is, of course, "OMG, I'm hopelessly in love and I can't tell him, and I'm too nervous to talk to him without it being awkward, sigh whine swoon." This is still a huge problem. It still shouldn't be. I still need to just suck it up and ask him out, or just suck it up and realize that I am never going to ask him out. At this point, though, I don't know which one it should be. Also, I am just not that good at sucking things up. In general.
Well, at least he's in my lunch now. That's good.
Sorry to, um... Just about everyone, for the absence of a translation of the first part of this entry. The whole thing is based on a play on words, so it wouldn't really work that well. Besides that, I am lazy and elitist.
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