Monday, November 14, 2011

Your not pregnant.... Your an exchange student!

                Their’s weight loss, then weight gain. Sickness ,nausea. Cravings, mood swings, and randomly bursting into tears.  If you type all these things into WebMD. They’ll most likely diagnose something like pregnancy. But you could just be an exchange student.
                I kid you not. Especially with the craving and food phases. Mexican food, they don’t have it in Italy so you go try Nutella. You get addicted to Nutella. Run out of Nutella you go to the grocery store and find m&ms. Run out of m&ms your back to Nutella. Then your host mother comes home with clementines  a whole month before they would be in stores back in Texas and those are your obsesion. Then you have an apple and suddenly it’s apples, apples,apples, and maybe some Apple and Nutella if you are attempting the homework from school today because you could sort of kind of understand the teacher, and the math problem that look more like they threw a graph with greek and latin together.
                I don’t joke.  This is so true. And I know this is horrible to say but there for a while I literally thougth “there is no way this is culture shock, homesickness, or whatever they call it. I’m having the next baby Jesus.”
                Turns out I’m just an emotional eater and Italy has made me emotional. Maybe it’s because I suddenly fell like Malibu Barbie, all plastic no brain. Because even when my host mother speaks English to me she has to draw it out at times. Or maybe because I ride the emotional high of speaking Italian only for the person I’m talking to, to have this completely lost look on their face equivalent to the first day I was here and someone spoke Italian to me.  (Turns out I can pick up math easier than a language. Who would have thought that!)
                Anyways I get happy over something, the next hour I’m sitting their huddled against the heater trying to read my text book and thinking if I was at home I would have finished this by now and could be sitting outside with my dad while he grilled or talking with my step-mom while she cooked dinner. And I wouldn’t be freezing.  And then my host brother (who I happy to say, we have bonded much better than I thought we initially would that first two weeks were he never  acknowledge me. We actually got into a fight the other day. We were at the dining table eating lunch, which just happens to be in the coldest room in the house, and he was telling jokes. I told him to just stop because they were horrible, in Italian of course, and he replied to be quiet because I just couldn’t understand them and I snapped back that I didn’t see anyone laughing.  And this afternoon it took us an hour between his broken English and my broken Italian to discuss what I did in three of hours school that morning and how I liked my new math class. (I will tell more of this later) Ans who and then my host brother will walk in and do soething that makes me laugh. Or Micia the devil host cat will come strolling in and attack my feet. Or Ludo will ask me to help her with her English homework. And the homesickness is gone and it usually stays away.  But these emotionl shifts were me out, especially since more Italian is being spoken to me every day and I’m actually understanding the different tenses and understanding completely and not just the jist and it’s like the strain of listening ot every accent and translating rapily at times for unfamiliar words that just aren’t immediate tire me out.
                But this morning I did correct my English teacher, and it wasn’t on her English it was on her Italian. My class was so proud of me. 
                And my orario, or time table, got changed once again to a lower math class. (I feel really good about this one) and while meeting the kids before the teacher arrived the girl spoke to me in italian. I was busy looking at my new schedule an asked her to repeat. She got this look on her fast most get when their about to speak English and I without even thinking said. “No englese, solo Italiano. Repeti, per favore”.  No english, only Italian. Repeat please. And they all smiled and I conversed pretty well with them. Also I was able to hold my own this morning when one of the nice women in the apartment building offered me a ride in her car to school. Of coruse at first I thought she was just asking if she could wlak with me to the bus walk, the notion of car rides now are so weird. I think. “That’s so close, you can take the bus, or train, and not have to worry about parking.” Italian mentality. Also Italian road rage.  Anywho after she said” macchina”, car.  I tried best to explain to her that I preferred to take the bus since I still had a while until I had to be school since I entered later on Mondays. Also because I’ve seen these Italian drive in cars, I only trust my host mother and that’s barely as she zooming around these break neck curves on these high sheer cliffed mountains.
                But these little winning moments make my day. And my friends are truly amazing because they sit their as I struggle to get out a complicated sentence or when I don’t understand them and they have to talk very slow one word at a time. (omedays my brian processes better than others.)
                Also these new classes I’m in I love because it’s amazing when your walking down the halls with your friends and someone from one of your other classes says. “Hello Paige” (They refuse to great me in Italian. I don’t know why even after I’ve asked.) and I say “Ciao” back and my friends. (These are the people from my first class I stayed with every day for the first two months) just look at me. I can only smile.
                But my new math class I love it. I will admit I learned very precious lesson today of “Do not judge a book by their cover”. My new math teacher is shorter than me and while pretty she looks way to young to be a teacher. Also she has this short cropped hair cut but growing off right side of her head is this long three foot braid just out of no where. My first impression was. “Oh God, please be with me.” This was going to be some spiteful, or weird teacher that would yell and scream. It turns out she very soft spoken, until she’s teaching then her perfectly articulate and easily understood Italian floats to your ears and she very fun and nice. I even complimented her Italian today, saying that I couldn’t understand it very well. And she smiled brilliantly. She has very good English (which hopefully won’t have to get used much) and was her self an exchange student for a year in the Neatherland area, or maybe it was Denmark. This little tidbit of information was introduced to me when I was still in shock over her appearance. My counselor for school who helps me with my schedule actually had to ask me twice to say my name for her because I was in such shock. So just be glad I remember that bit
                But I have learned one thing else, Italians love to rag on each other in English. Even if it’s just simple sentences such as “He is a pig” it was “He is pork” until I corrected them.Or things like. “He is a bush” I had a trouble figuring that one out until she pionted to the guy and he had this afro going on.
                OH!  Speaking of appearances. There is this boy, (let me finish before you role your eyes), but he’s not this scrawny , or sleek muscled bean pole that plays soccer  while were studying volleyball in gym.  HE bigger in the I’m a line backer for a football team but tall and a wall of muscle, kind of way.  I so want to say hi and just talk to him and tell him  he reminds me of a football player, in a good way. Maybe it’s me searching for familiarity while kind of going through a second slump, or maybe its just that he seems like a funny guy . But I just want to meet him!! Say hi or something. So when I’m fluent in Italian the first person I’m walking myself up to and introducing myself to all by myself is this guy. It will become my personal mission!!!
                So I guess you could say it’s  just been a good day. And on another note I got to skip school Saturday!! And go to Massa to pick up my residence card. It took only ten minutes and we didn’t pay a thing. (Which is really a shocker because in Italy nothing is every free, it always atleast a few euros especially when dealing with government) and it was funny because we walked out and my host mother turned toward me with a straight face said. “Were not a third world country after all”. I could only laugh.
                Of course then we went t this little small mall called Carrefoure. And I call it a mall but really think of a SAM”S Club/ slash giant super wal-mart as in set-up and not so mch bulk, but then their’s little stores like in a mall with a small food court and little café area. But the whole thing is referred to as Carreforre. Confusing but weird, anywho we went there and I saw all the little chocolate and sweats and Christmas things and I got so excited. And that’s when I decided I’m going to do stockings for my host family. And in my family stockings are just a little but in a felt clumbed red sock. Their better than the presents and often more looked forward to. Of course they won’t be as amazing as if I was in texas but they will be pile high with chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate. And maybe something else, but defiantly “sweeties” as my host mother likes to say.
                On a last note, I’m already humming Christmas music and technically Thanksgiving hasn’t even passed yet. Maybe it’s because it as cold as winter here already as it is in Texas. I don’t know. But me and my host mother are going to try to makes a small Thanksgiving. No giant turkey of course.
                Buona giornata all. (have a good day)

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Let Sleeping Exchange Students Lie......

                If you look at any Exchange students life, now or past, their webs connecting to them to other people are so much more vast and colorful. Their so much stronger than those of others. These relationships, survived distance, heartbreak, emotional distress, extreme happiness and doubt. These relationships have overcame language barriers and cultures, they have created friendships that people who don’t have this experience can never fully comprehend. You can say as an exchange student your linked to all other exchange student. When one falls everyone will reach down and give a hand to pull you out, because they did it for you. You can’t let each other fall, because that means you all fall. These people becomes you friends even if you have never meet them because they have experienced things no one else on this earth can even began to comprehend no matter how much you try to tell them or explain. They are a family and a support system of a bunch of fumbling young adults of the world who took this step off a cliff that was so high you couldn’t see the bottom of the abyss, so that they could open their minds, their hearts, and take the time to see what others won’t. Our elders are people not much older than us trying to guide us from their experiences. And while they are helpful like thumbprints, exchanges can be similarily close but never the same. When one falls from this link it makes one over come with guilt wondering if you could have helped, reached out more, done anything MORE….. and then when one fo the links that fall is a mighty one, someone who you know was so excited for this experience that they made you that much more excited for you, they were the ones who pictures and stories made you push even harder through the tough times so you could get there, smiling and enjoying it all. So when one of the mighty fall, even if not for the weakness that almost pulled you down it makes you wonder if you posses the strength to continue.
                Which goes onto to make an Exchanges student life so much more complicated. If you ever truly want to know who you are as a person, become an exchange student, you strength, physical, mental, emotional is pushed and stretched until your sure you’ll rip right apart, and you learn to live like that. For the rest of your life truly, because your always wanting for one place or the other, always missing friends from here and there.  You have your life back home, and the emotions from there, the events of your friends and family. You have your life in your host country, your everyday life and experiences and emotions that go along with that. Then you have your friends spread across the world, their downs and their ups, you ride the rollercoaster with them because as exchange that’s what you do…
                I don’t think one can truly describe all these emotions and explain what it feels like. I truly believe if there is one thing Rotary could add to their interview process of application requirement is an evaluation by a physcologist. Because it’s one thing to say your going to be an exchange, it’s another to put yourself on that plane and land in a foreign country by yourself, and a totally different one to live everday, thorugh the amazing, the good, and the ugly until it’s time for you to go. It’s one of those things were you either learn to swim or your going to drown.
                And I know this makes an exchange sound horrible, but at the same time it’s one of the best things to feel in the world. Because when you get see the pictures of your friend smiling, facebook statuses no longer in English… if pushes you and it feeds into your happiness knowing when you all back together the stories that while flow will be endless, vast, and everlasting.
                It’s another feeling you can’t explain….
                But I’m going to try, because there are those that don’t get this experience, there are other that get it and are forced home for some reason or another….
                And as a good friend just recently told me, I have a great story to right. So that’s what I’m going to do….

                And I know most of you are wondering how my birthday went and how life is going, but with certain recent events that have happened talking about my trivial life seems so meanial… Just know that I am fine, I am living my life contently, but that is about to change, I’m about to live, because I have realized now is not the time to float through an exchange… I have one year, one year in Italy.  I will not send spend it sitting in bed, writing abut what I ate or how treadful school is… I can tell you all of that when I get home… I am going to live, now! , in this moment, for every moment. Because I am lucky, so lucky to have this experience, and I’m not going to waste it… I’m going to live, for those who can’t have this experience and for those who lost their chance to live it….
When the mighty have fallen… they don’t pull you down with them, they show you your true strength and  reveal your wings.
                I going to keep my head held like I’m always wearing a crown…. And I’m going to fight every challenge that life through at me to knock me downa dn ruin this.
                Because this is my crowning battle….. and I will be victorious not only for me, but for those that this chance was stolen from…. I will live this for you… for me… for everyone..
                Because this is my chance to change the world……
And I’ll be damned if I let the torch you passed die out…

Monday, October 24, 2011

Take a Walk in My Shoes.....

                So first off I would just like to warn you I’m about to go into a rant. Now I know it’s wise to do It on such a public place, but I just need to get this off my chest. But I also know others just don’t like people who rant so if you don’t want to hear me verbally nag someone to death then skip down to  (***********) and you skip the rant and start to read about my life in Italy. If you need a good butt chewing sessions then read on as you please. Thank you…

                Last week I got my personalized intercultural student timetable. Otherwise, I’m not in class, though philosophy, latin, etc… I’m in different classes all over the school. (which is a real blessing because I’m not very okay with sitting in one place for so long and my butt going numb) I have around  6 to seven hours of Math each week and around the same for Italian. Even getting moved toa  first year class to help with my grammer. Perfect. I get to meet more people, the teachers won’t get taken by surpise when I go wide eyes when they speak rapid Italian and maybe they won’t hand me a test that I have no clue how to take and looks more like Greek than Italian.
                Also before I start ranting I know it’s very generous for the school to allow me to do this. They could have just sat m at the back of some classroom and left me there. Never acknowledging me, not giving me a test, just letting me be. Not that I would have complained but I’m sure after a while I might have started chiseling lines on the wall to pass the minutes of school.
                But I would just like to say before you start bitching at me, how about you step into my shoes. You go be an Exchange student, get dropped in a completely different culture, away from your support system, across an ocean, in a place that is foreign as the ancient world in American minds at times. Then you come back and talk to me and see what tone your whistling.
                What I’m talking about is how at school today I was told that I really needed to start learning Italian. On the outside I smiled, looked ashamed and said “Yes. I’m trying” But on the inside this is what I thought. “No **** Sherlock, really?”.  (Pardon my potty mouth but that phrase looses it’s power if altered, truly)
                I mean I’ve been ehre not even two months. I’m trying, truly. If you talk slow enough I can understand, or use hand movements and you won’t even have to wiat a second after speaking for me to understand. But if there’s a verb you have to wiat for me to conjugate. You’ll know when I’m lost, I’ll tell. Otherwise I’m translaiting in my head or double checking that I have it right.  I know my Italian is not amazing. But truly this is a hard language. It would make English professors at Cambridge bash their heads against brick walls if they had to learn. Even my host mother agreed. But I still try. Also it’s hard to make perfect sentences so if a sentence is new to me or I’m trying to explain. I often speak neadethalicly. Think tarzan, the verb and subjects, no articles, very broken. Yes that is often times me speaking Italian. Of coruse around my host family, I’m a lot more bold. But in public, not quit. They would probably run screaming at how bad I butchered the language.
                Anywho back to my rant, so this unnamed unidentified person has the audacity to tell me that I really need to start learning Italy. (That is their words nicely) What I wanted to say to them after I said I was trying and they still said “I know” but… was this… . I have been here less than two months. I can understand pretty well, read a lot better, and get around town byself. Im sorry if I don’t understand school. But I’m not going to shove my head into an Italian book and learn Italian now! I have one year, ONE YEAR, in Italy. tO enjoy this. I want to learn the language, but if that’s all I wanted to know I would have just taken a class back in Texas and stayed comfortable at home. But instead I wanted to learn the culture and the people. I choose to leave my  comfortable life in Texas to have an once in a lifetime experience in your country. That means going out, walking around, being in the culture. Watching it. Not sticking my head in Italian work books twenty four seven  sicne I landed so I can speak fluently.  I mean for two of the weeks I was here I was going through culture shock so bad I about sold my soul to go home. When you dispising a place that much, or yearning for home that much your not going to want to learn the language of said place! Of course now I don’t feel like that. But I also don’t have an edict memory, I’m not going to remember everything. Truly I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked how to say washing machine in Italian. I still can’t tell you how to say it let alone spell it.  I mean I’m leanring a new language while I’m leanring a new culture. I’m not making exscuses for myself, but unless I’m that pointy eared guy off of Star Wars (Spoke is it) and his race that aren’t supposed to have no emotions therefore they learn at supper lightening speed i’m not going to speak fluently by Christmas, truly sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever be able to speak fluently.
                And I don’t know if it just cause this is a sensitive cord with me, or the fact that this person has repeatedly hinted at this and now just bluntly said it but it about dang near put me in tears. If it wasn’t for my friends I most likely would have to have the school to call my host mom because I would have sat in the middle of the floor and cried.
                And when I came home and wasn’t excited after lunch just rushing through my meal to open my package that had arrived from home for my birthday my host mother asked me what was wrong. Que the almost tears again.
                But this time I had my host family, and they like always make any crappy day better. MY host mother talking about how monsterish the Italian teachers are and my younger sister comforting me by saying she wouldn’t want to be in my shoes learning Italian.
                Okay I think I’m done for now, I feel just a bit better. But I’m still stewing, partially.
Okay the rant is finished…
                MY life here has been going very well, time slipping past my fingers at the speed of light sometimes it seems. I have discovered little treasures about my town on my own, bonded with my host family (especially my host sister) more. I’m really loving Italy and at times never want to go home.
                I’m teaching myself to knit, my host sister already  asking for me to make her one once I get good.
                It’s getting colder, and sometimes I wish I were the kid of the Christmas Carol movie. You know the one with the red rider BB gun. I want to be the little brother bundled up to tight he has to waddle when he walks, because sometimes I’m that cold.  I wiat for halfway through Novemeber when we can turn the heater on. I will be clinging to the one in the bedroom, curled up right in front of it. If you don’t believe me I’ll take pictures.
                We had a famous Italian racecare driver come and tlak to use at school about safe driving ( I found the irony.)
                My parents miss me, and I love it when they do. Because their really nice to me, If I was any more spoiled I might take advantage of it. (That’s a joke. I love my parents, nanny and certain other family members and people. You are all amazing!!!!) The certain other people, eh……Family politics, the only politics I don’t enjoy because you just can’t turn off the TV to shut them up.
                The Nutella finally found me, I’m gaining some of the weight I’ve lost back, so I’m going to start running. I thought about doing it today but I procrastinated long enough the rain decided for me. Can’t say I complain.
                Also today I got a ackage in that my Nanny, mother , dad and step-mother all cooperated on for my birthday. This thing probably weighed the size of a one and half year old. And was stuffed. But in it was little things not only for but my host siblings and host mother.
                But there was also ingrediants for me to make Mexican food. Ranch and my nanny even put a small jar of Nutella in ther which made me and my host mother laugh. Also there was a pouch of chocolate chip cookie mix. I think my host mother was more excited about it than me, and that’s saying something. We discussed when we would make them as we ate NUtella and pre-preped the apple crumble that is going to be made tonight. (Have I mentioned how spoiled I am?)
                I also got my fluffy pajama pants, my house shoes and my sweetshirt, I’m currently the warmest I’ve been since it started to get cold. Translation: I don’t feel the need to hibernate.
                OH also someone should have been videotaping me eat lunch today because we had “buccine” which means something with a hole-bucco(in Italian, I do believe). Think  of spaghetti nodles so fat their hard to widn around a fork, and then they have a small hole in the middle of them (like sour puch straws) so you can’t slurp them or suck that small little tail part inot your mouth because you just suck in air. I thought I was going to have to just start picking it up and eating by hand because I couldn’t get any to stay on my fork for my life. Truly it was a sight to see, I’m laughing at myself as I think about it. But despite being very difficult to eat they were very good. Add them with some fat Italian grapes and it was the perfect lunch.
                So life here is good.
                My parting words and lessoned learned.
                Someone once said that an Exchange students exchange was built on awkward moments. I don’t remember who it was but they were so right they should get an award.
                Also the life of an exchange student is not glamourouse as many believe, and it’s not easy, or all about partying. But I would not pass up this chance if I had the choice to go back in time and have never picked up that pre-assement sheet, or what ever it was called.
                So I’m doing good. I wish you all. I’m going to go curl up under a blanket and knit some.
                Y’all take care.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Paige, this isn't spanish....

            The title is once again dedicated to my host sorella who loves to remind that Italian is not Spanish because I often pronounce a new word or say the word in Spanish if I don’t know the Italian one for something. A really bad habit but atleast my three Spanish teachers would be proud.
                Also I would like to say at this moment I will be trying to type every word correctly and triple reread this. Because someone put my blog post on the website for my Rotary club, and put the horrendous picture from my application on there as well. You could have warned me, or picked a better post. Better yet let me have sent you a better picture, I look earily like death warmed over in that picture.  They also informed my whole high school about my blog post as well from what I gathered. (Glad I’m all the way in Italy) I’m not naming names because you know who are. But guess what? Your still an awesome person, scratch that an amazing person and part time saint.. so your forgiven. J But a small heads up next time would have been awesome…. Food for thought.
                So last time I updated I had just informed of a semi-normal week compared to this last one I had. I’m not going to go into full detail but I am going to hit the main points. Monday was an awesome (they always seem to be in Italy). Tuesday school didn’t start until 9, because the Chemistry teacher was not going to be there. Yes I said Chemistry I nearly danced with happiness. And that’s another upside to Italian schools, they don’t waste money on substitutes who just give you busy work, you get the hour off. (Someone should suggest this to the Texas School board, I think it has merit.) Wendsay as well as Monday I had gym.
                Now I know I did a whole blog about gym before but let me just say for insurance reasons it should be one of the Rotary 6 D’s when it comes to me. My gym teacher will eternly remember me as the clumbsy, ungraceful, most unatheletic American alive. I haven’t had a hand full of gym classes yet and I had fallen off a balance beam. Pegged myself in the head multiple times with a tennis ball. Gave myself rope burn from a jump rope. Messed up my back when she tried to get me to so a somersault on the floor. (yeah that didn’t work out. I have a fear of that, always have and was in near tears by the time that one was done. But I guess it paid off because I roll on the floor now. Like a three year old. Yep.) I have crashed into hurdles, fallen onto hurdles, plan just fallen and have become that kid when getting picked for a team its out of sympathy that no one wants to leave the exchange student as the last one. In other words they should just have a ambulance ready outside the school because I can assure with my grace before I leave I will have broken something... that’s almost guaranteed with the way this is going.
                Okay so I had gym, then Thursday we got out in hour early (NO CHEM AGAIN!!!) and had Arte. In a school for Science and Math that’s code word for something that earily looks like college grade architect design involving graphs compasses and those triangular rulers you always wonder what’s for. I know now. And because I have no clue how to do any of it my teacher let’s me sit their and color. Thought I do watch when he draws on the bored, because he pretty funny, even If I don’t catch everything he says. And every time he sees my face, which I’m sure is confused or awed, he cracks a smile, and gives a chuckle. But this time in art I drew the Texas Flag, and it was pretty good if I do say so myself.
                 Thursday night I hung out with friends. And the funny part, aside from the whole night, about this is. Usually you know once a day I’ll post something on facebook, or send my mom a facebook message that I have not been ran over by a moped. (By the way in Italy they don’t have motorcycle gangs, but scooter gangs.) Now the rule my YEO from home has there is talk to your parents at most once a week. I wasn’t ever told anything here so I abide by that rule as a guideline. Or I’m sure after something amazing just happened I would jump on Skype and talk my mom or dad’s ear off. But to ease my mothers worries I’ll send her a message usually later in the afternoon my time so she wakes up knowing I’m okay. Well because I was out with friends I didn’t get to send the message and I hadn’t posted on Facebook so she actually talked to my dad and asked him if he had heard from me and if I was okay.
                I never had much of a social life back home because I was always so school focused. And since I don’t have school seriouse here pretty much anytime my friends from school are in Carrara I go and hang out with them.
                So after my mom told me about worrying about when I Skyped with her on Sunday I laughed. Because never before would I have been out with friends, it was rare. So it just goes to show in ways I’m already changing. I’m becoming a social creature… and that’s a scary thought.
                Friday was the best day because their was no school. Why? You might ask because their was a sciopero ( I believe that is spelled correctly) and that translated, is strike. It was also the first day it was freezing cold in Italy and I stayed huddled in a blanket most of the day.
                Saturday there was school. One a side note of that, I’m ready for my school to go ahead and figure out the permanent timetable so that way I can get my personalize one to see if they put me in school on Saturday’s or if there going to allow me to have the day off so I can roam Italy unleashed and unsupervised. (also a scary thought, though most likely won’t come to fruitation.)
                But Saturday was also the day of “Red River Rivalry” in Texas. The football game the cotton bowl between my boys the Longhorns, aka the greatest team ever. And the Sooners. Who are only known because they play the Longhorns. I stayed connected to my computer the whole night listening to the game and getting updates from my dad via e-mail.  Even thought we got squashed we are still the greatest team ever. I’m also glad I’m in Italy it helps make the defeat a bit more easier to cope with and never again will I miss a game. They lost because their favorite and biggest fan was not in the stands cheering, or screaming is more like it.  But next year victory will be ours…. I will just say that and start the gloating now.
                Sunday was also freezing, and once again my blanket was sewn to me. But I also got to Skype my mom and Nanny which always crack me up when their together, and it’s great to talk to them. I also got the treat of Skype-ing with my Mamaw for the first time as she is visiting my dad and step-mom for a while.
                Monday was Monday. And Tuesday, today.. well were Monday’s weren’t my day in Texas Tuesday’s don’t seem to be my days here.  Even though we got to enter school at nine again today.
                As for my Italian. Sometimes I am convinced I will never learn. Other times I feel like I just won the Olympics with it. I’m starting to understand simple sentences and catch words. But as for talking, or anything complex,or even a book? Yeah you might as well forget it.
                Today in Physics we had an intergoation. Think of it as an oral exam as you may, but only a few people at a time. Well I had been drawn. But I, of course, could not do it. Well you get three times to say no, that was one for me. And no doubt two will come around before Christmas. I just shudder to think what will happen when all three strikes are gone and I pray by then that I can atleast say something or understand something, because as of now I would most likely start crying in the seat and think it was cruel and usual punishment.
                Also because I don’t remember what day it was, but I just have to share this with you because it’s hilarious. I was waiting at the bus stop and at the stoplight this guy pulled up in this beat up old pick-up truck. I swear up and down to god above if you had stuck him in a line-up neck to a bunch of rednecks from back home he wouldn’t have stood out until he opened his mouth and spoke Italian. It shocked me so bad I had to look around at the streets sings and shops to make sure I hadn’t somehow click my heels three times and got back home.
                Which would have been great, not the being home part, but just clicking my heels three times. After the flight here I’m dreading the flight back. Like “hey dad/mom why don’t you fly here and then fly home with me?” dreading. First of all I know I will most likely but either a numb or hysterical mess. And then theirs customs, which I avoided going through in Italy somehow, so I still have never gone through them, so add that on top of being a mess. I’m just not looking forward to it. No sirey. Plus I officially hate planes. I mean you get preferred economy and you have more leg room but unless your against the wall you can’t curl up and go to sleep comfortably. Yet if you have regular economy class I have this fear that I’m going to get stuck next to a bigger person, or worse yet one that snores. I’m not skinny myself so I need all the seat I can get anyways.
                Bust speaking of body image. I have come to be a lot more comfortable with my body in Italy. I think it’s because I’m surrounded by statues that were sculpted when people remembered and men appreaciated that real woman had curves… and not size 0 waistlines.
                Not saying that I’m embracing obesity but a love handle is not the end of the world.
                And speaking of food, okay fat, but you get fat from food so it coincides. I was informed that Italians eat horse. Now I know your never supposed to turn food down and atleast always try it, which I have, and everything has been surprisingly delicious, even vegetables. But I looked my host mother straight in the eyes and told her I would eat tar tar for the rest of my exchange as long as she did not make me eat horse. An then proceded to tell her if she made me eat it I would most likely have a mental break down worthy of “one who flew over the cuckoo’s nest” in the middle of the floor and have to be sent home. This was more to try to distinguish the evil glint that had appeared my host brother’s eyes. I think it only feed the flame. I have already resolved not to trust any food he gives or makes unless my host mother is around to confirm that he’s not about to feed me Charlie’s ( my horse) long distant cousin.
                As my parting note I would just like to say that God gift to Exchange student’s are amazing host families… and Nutella.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Cucinare- to cook (I think)

                My fellow Texans/ Americans… vote Paige for president. Not really but maybe one day. Wow that’s a scary thought. But I do believe after seeing America outside of America I would make a really great president. But you have to be atleast 35 if I remember correctly…..
                Anywho. Before I start off into how my life is in Italia I would like to say a few things . Primo… I have been here in Italy one day to day month. It feels so long yet so short at times. And it amazing thinking back to how much in me has changed since I first arrived. For one the waist of my jeans have to be rolled so they fit. Another is I now speak Ingliano, the Inglese e Italiano version of Spanglish.
Secondo…. It’s my birthday month!!!  I will be turning 17 in Italy!! How many people can say that? It’s funny because only a few weeks ago when I was going through my dark times and truly considering coming home I remember thinking I have to stay until my birthday then I can go home. It felt so far away then. And now the thought of leaving after my birthday (leaving at all really) makes me start having a panic attack and stressing so bad my hair falling out.  I think now “What was I thinking?” then.
                Third…. Did I mention how much I love Italy? Granted the occasional amazing days are interrupted by a rare bad one, but hey everyone has bad days, even when in a place that could be considered near heaven on Earth.
                Fourth…. I have never been this relaxed in my life. And I love it. I think it’s one of the reasons I’m loosing weight. Besides realizing how horrible and disgusting and processed American food is.  Because seriously I eat twice as much here than I did at home, plus an amazing dessert  everynight and I’ve lost weight. Something that I’m very surprised about, because most people gain weight on their exchange.
   Okay so here I go. For those of you who haven’t read my last blog (the poem). Please go read it. Like I said there I’m not a poem person, but I’m kind of proud of it. Silly enough.
  Lunedí (Monday)-
                Monday was a good day. Let me just start off by saying that. I had my first test. In Mate (Math). It was my first blank test ever and surprisingly enough I didn’t freak out. The teacher just smiled at me as I turned it in. I think she was trying to be nice other wise she would have laughed. I know afterwards I did.  I arrived home to my package of home here. I pulled out my bag of pretzel m&m and hid the other. Because I devoured that first one in about two days. I also shared some with Dodi and Ludo, crabby patty gummy treats not the m&m. Sorry, I love them but those things are my addiction and I don’t have enough to feed three addictions. But I do believe Dodi is now addicted to the gummy treats, he tried bribing Ludo out of hers. I have a few stashed back for when I need to earn points. That night I went to a track complex in Marina di Carrara with Ludo (my host sister) and Ludovico (cousin). It was nice to get out and exercise and hang out with some friends and meet new people.  I also started speaking some Italian and Ludo commented at one point how much better she thinks it getting. I think she’s just glad I’m not walking around asking “Come che dice?” to everything.  
Tuesday, I don’t really remember Tuesday well. And I don’t fell like getting up from my favorite chair to go look in my journal to find out. Nothing big must have happened or I would have remembered. Except I do remember one thing. My Chemistry who is the first teacher ever I have just wanted to stand up and tell her that I would not be held responsible for her Stupidity. Yeah if you can tell I don’t like her very much, but neither does the rest of the class. It’s not that she doesn’t like me, it’s just I don’t she grasp that I’m an Exchange Student or that Iv’e taken chemistry before. So when I tell her I don’t have books (because I can’t understand and the girl I sit next to will let me look at hers if were just reading), and I don’t understand, and that I’ve taken chemistry before. I do believe it goes one of her ears and right out the other. Not to mention she thinks in America we only use our Untis of measurement. And not the SI metric system as well. It took me three times to tell her this before she understood. MY classmate just give me pitying looks when she walks in the room. I try no to cry.
                Okay but back to the story. Tuesday she actually complimented my notes I copied directly off the board and held them up for the class to see. If I wasn’t about to fall out of my chair with shock I think I would have had half a mind to have been embarrassed at the heavily doodled margins.
              Wedndsay ( I couldn’t spell it right in Texan and I for sure can’t spell it right now. Sorry). Anyways it was one of those days were if you could have rolled back over and started the day over I would have done. It was not a good day. First of all I was tired for some reason, even though I went to bed earlier than usual that night.  Also my mind seemed to hit the proverbial Italian wall, because everything my teachers said went in one ear and out the toher or stopped on it way to give me a major migraine. Then I was cattle hearded onto a crowded bus after school. I didn’t have anything to hand onto, you were pressed right up against the person next to you, and the bus driver was a big believer in brakes and load shifts. So there I was stumbling around at one point grabbing someone elses backpack out of reflex to keep from falling. I was so happy to get off except that my bracelet was hooked to the guys backpack in front of me. I made a noise that sounded German. That I do remember and literally grabbed his backpack forcing him back so I wouldn’t be drug along with him. I was in such a bad mood at this point I didn’t ever care that the guy was extremely hot. I think that’s a pretty good measurement of upset I was.
                But my host family mad it better, as did relaxing and listening to a bit of music. So like I told my dad who had the pleasure of sending me a small e-mail to make sure I was still alive got told. It’s wasn’t my favorite day, not homesickness, just life.
Thursday (boy I hope I spelt the Italian one right) lol. Thursday I didn’t go to school. I woke up with a headache like I’ve never had before. I walked into the kitchen still in my pajamas that morning and my host mother say and me ask m what was wrong. I told her I had a really bad headache and non chalantly she told me to just stay in bed. Had I not been worried about having possible internal head trauma later form what ever was banging around up there I probably would have been more than mildly shocked and possibly excited at her tone consisting with me not going to school.
                So I crawled back in bed after taking some ibeprofuen, threw the blankets over my head and didn’t wake up until ten.
                My head was but a shadow at that point, and after getting dressed I hung out with Toni in the kitchen, helping her cook and talking. It was nice to bond with her and I think expressing my interest in food might have brought us a bit closer.
       Friday was a great day. School was good. The mental block was gone. And it seemed to just fly by at times.  But what was so great about the day happened after school. I went walking around Carrara. Looking into the little boutiques and even found a hobby shop on my street. I was so excited. Of course I didn’t buy anything. I’m holding my cards ( or should I say my money) close until I see everything.  I hate shopper’s remorse, I think it should be diagnosed as a form of acute depression, seriously. And while their at it can they go ahead and make “foot in mouth” a social disorder as well. It would really help me out.  Thanks.
                  But then after getting home my host mother said that we needed more sliced cheese for my breakfast sandwiches I was making that night. I went down to Esselunga all by myself and bought the cheese. I was so proud of myself, I could have happy danced my way up via Roma to the house.  Of course walking in Toni asked me if I got it. When I held it up  she got about as excited as me. That receipt is now pinned to my Rotary jacket.  Thank you very much.
                So I cooked the sandwiches. Toni hanging around a bit saying she would like to learn how to cook “American”. I really wanted to tell her that I cook “Southern” and if she wanted to learn that I could get her a Paula Deen ( my cooking idol) cookbook. But I think she would be appaled at the amount of better, because she even called my sandwhich cholesterolful. But they still loved. Granted  they were still hungry afterwards. But nothing some ensalata or a piece of Nutella with Marscopone  wouldn’t remedy.
Saturday was an even better day. My friends taught me some Italian and I spoke a full sentence and understood a lot as they spoke.  They day went by fast and I laughed when one of my friend told me she tried to read my blog in inglese but couldn’t. So she put it in google translate. The only thing I could think of was how horrible I’ve come to recognize that translator as for some things and shudder at the thought of what it might have said. But she said it was so wrong she couldn’t even read the translation.  So school was just good.
                I had my weekly Skype con mi papa (with my dad) and Steph. As always they make me laugh. Because halfway through they’ll figure how to make themselves visible to themselves instead of just m and spend ten minute trying to fix hair or in this case sit up to look thinner. I about died rolling on the floor. And they’ll probably hate me for sharing that, but it was too funny. But my dad also pointed out that I may not know how to tell a Cab driver where I need to go, but I can tell you the name of food and how to cook. Of course I’m in Italia what else do you expect? But we had a good laugh over that.  I wanted to Skype with my mom but she is sick. So please pray for her to get better soon.
                Saturday was also my first month in Italy.  As I said before when I started writing the first past on Saturday it has seemed very long and short at the same time.
                Today was a good day. Went for a walk down at Marini di Massa with my host mother and sister. Found some rocks for my Nanny the short seconds we ventured to the sand of the beach. Learned a lot more about Italy. Talked about Religion and Politics (always my favorite). And was suprisngly happy that me and my host mother agree on so much and what’s not agreed upon is still respected. She was also brought to the attention of how close minded American can be about somethings and she was shocked. 
                I believe a quote I read once best described my feelings at that moment. “I love America, to bad it’s populated with so many idiots”. Yep that’s about right.  But it’s still home so you love it as it is.
                So here is the few things I’ve come to realize part:
    I forgot my love of cooking. Seriously I remember at one point I wanted to be a chief. And then it was pushed aside for things like Doctor, or politician. Or even the dream of a bookstore owner. But since being In Italy and watching my host mother cook, and asking questions and learning the right way. Like how you don’t have ragú (meat sauce) with spaghetti. It’s used with other types of pastas and many other things.  Well it’s reminded my love of cooking. I’ve gone so far to download some cookbooks on my Ipod and go through the recipes and star things to make when I get back home. I’m going to start cooking again. Now will I become some courdon blue culinary genius, I have no clue. But will I  make Julia Childs proud at my effort, definitely. I have also come to the conclusion, as to save room for the trip home I’m not going to buy anyone souvenirs. I’m just going to cook traditional Italian food for them. Their going to be saying “Let’s go to Paige’s house for Italian tonight” instead of “Let’s go to Olive Garden” by the way while the food their maybe good, it’s way heavy compared to traditional Italian food, and I don’t believe completely correct.  Will I still eat their upon returning home, sure. Will I do it without as much gusto as before, nope. I mean come one I’m eating fresh legit monzerella cheese (which is amazing), nothing can compare.
                It’s also made me realize how much I absolutely miss Mexican food. Like seriously when I’m not going to be cooking something I want to go out to eat at a Mexican Food restraint. Probably for the next five years. I miss it so much. When I get off that plane can someone just have some ready for me? I would love you so much!!!
                I also miss Wal-mart and Target…despite the crowds.
                Another thing is.. I was looking at the calendar of my little day planner for school here. And a year really isn’t that long. I mean you have four weeks on average in a month.  Theirs only seven days in a week. And while some feel long, really how many times have you reached Saturday and thought “wow that was quick”. And if I’m only here until May or June that’s…. 8 to 9 months still or somewhere between 32 weeks to 37 weeks.  That’s not a lot of time… Life truly is short if you live it right.
                Also a little food for thought… this morning my host mother told me this Septembre in Italia was the host in the past 150 yrs. Looks like I brought some of the Texas heat with me. And I’m none to pleased. I’m ready to start bundling up and get this show on the road.
                That’s really all I have to say. Besides the fact that talking about food had made me really hungry, most likely going to go hunt down some Nutella now.
                Hope you are all taking care.
                Ciao, baby.
As always please exscuse bad grammer, misspells. And If you just can’t figure it out use your imaginations. Good luck.


Friday, September 30, 2011

The World Around Me.....

So here is a small poem I wrote in Latin class today. I don't usually write poems, i'm more of a story girl. But the inspiration hit and i wrote it down. Please exscuse any bad grammer or unsmooth parts, like i siad i'm not a poet by any standard. I tried to work it out as best as I could. Enjoy.

You wake up,
You sit up.
You look across the room.
There lay your host sorella still a’snooze.
Your ready before eight,
And ride the bus to school.
It’s no car or horse, but it’s still pretty cool.
You sit in class and strain to listen,
But often end up doodling with precision.
You leave school at one, one day a week at two.
It’s not as cool as you’d think ;because Saturday thiers school too.
Cowhearded onto a bus, grouped and pushed and shoved,
Stumbling off finally, trying to refrain from shoving back your “bud”.
On the short walk home a smile spreads across down turned lips.
Your host family can make everything better,
Because at the end of the day family is what matters.
And for a year they are your family.
Their laughter, their chatting, their banter,
Even the slight annoyance when at night your Facebook is full of your host sisters links about the newest Mad Hatter.
Then thiers the message from mom,
Counting down the seconds until your home.
The e-mail from dad always signed “camp champs”.
You wonder if you’ll ever get the letter he sent,
The one in a bottle, not with a stamp.
You and your host mother agree to disagree,
She thinks her cooking is no good,
And you eat until you feel a little green.
Bedtime rolls around and as you prepare,
You remember to keep stockings on your feet and their shall be no water in your hair.
You’ve been here a month,
and have had those mothering lectures quit enough.
You fall asleep after prayers; clutching your stuffed piece of home,
And dream sweet dreams about that giant gelato cone.
But sometimes those dreams aren’t so sweet,
Because you know way to soon….
You’ll wake up,
You’ll sit up,
You’ll look across the room….
And their in your bedroom mirrior.
Will be your first home reflected back at you.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Non my piace Gym....

                Gym, in any country, or language, also means sweat. Now I’m not opposed to sweating, and in fact I do like exercise and being active. But I do not like sweating, putting on clothes while still sweating and then sitting in them through the rest of the school day. Or sweating when I’m in non sweating clothes( you know not work out clothes).  Now this is not why I don’t like gym…. It’s a main fact about me that ties into the reason why I totally disagree with having gym second period of the day. Though is was a nice breaking from sitting in class for three hours straight and did make the day go by faster.
                So we went to gym, or I should say my class went to gym, since classes literally rotate together here. And the teachers comes to us. So I guess you could say it’s not the teachers classroom, it’s class 4D’s classroom. (I feel like I should have t-shirts made and be proud over that fact...)
                But we went into the changing rooms, the girls and guys right across from each other and their wasn’t a superiser sitting out in the hall way thinking at any moment us teenagers weren’t going to fly into the opposite room and start doing everything inappropriate under the sun. It’s so great to be treated like the young adult  I know I am ,inside and outside of school. Seriously.
                Because I had been in athletics before the thought of stripping practically naked in front of strangerz no longer phased me. Though I will admit I won’t ever go streaking I’m way to body conscious especially in Italy when every corner you turn you run into some leggy skinny woman dressed to the nines. Most of my classmates, boys and girls, could quit possibly make Abercrombie models look like they sprouted from the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. No joke.
                So we changed, hiked some more stairs (their all over Italy. It’s why everyone has killer legs. If I don’t have a pair by the time I get back I want a refund…J) And ended up in this small gym.
                At first the teacher had us warm up you know run a  few laps and a few other exercises, thought not any flat out on the floor stretching. I was proud of myself, apparently my twenty minute hike to and from school is helping me get into shape because when a few of the other girls were huffing, I was surprisingly not killing over wondering why I left my inhaler in the States.
                During this time I started talking to a few of the girls from the beach that first day that were in my class. I kind of wondered if it would be one of those “your so cool” thing outside of school and then after the initial meeting and being around me everyday they would be like “whatever” because besides one of the guys always saying “ciao” and an occasional, if I did first, smile they hadn’t really said anything more to me.
                Our warm up stretched were stopped when the teacher say dirt on the floor, she apperantly is very picky about that and checked all of ours shoes, after giving us a lecture. I never knew who the culprit was, but the whole class kind of rolled their eyes at her. I had a feeling that “coach” attitude many atheletic teachers possessed was an international thing as well… so I understood having my share of those coaches.
                Then came to the gym part. She had us line up in a line and had four low hurdles set up, two high hurdles, a cone and then these wooden juggling pins set up side down. It was a snaked obstacle course and I was sitting there thinking gym in Italy is so easy.
                And then the coach brings out the tennis balls. She wants us to jogged through the hurdles throwing the ball between our hands, dribbling it (yes a tennis ball on this foam, impact this asorbent floor), we had to dribble to the high hurdles jump up and throw the ball and catch it as we landed. Then we had to dribble it to the pins and dribbling it through there like you would a basketball. Through it over the volleyball net as we ducked under and catch it on the other side.
                Now for some of you, you might think this is easy. But not for me. Like I said before I can be athletic. I’ve done many sports, but I’m not one of those girls that if you put any type of sports equipment in my hand I’ll immedinatly become a start at it. And the most important fact for this blog is I have no hand coordination at all when it comes to balls. Hence why every sport I’ve ever played has involed feet, no throwing or the simple swinging of a golf club. And why when I played little league baseball they stuck in the outfield.
                Most of my class goes in front of me, many of the girls are dropping the balls, the boys are showing off and having fun. It gets to my turn. I nearly fall over the hurdle and land on the others trying to just make sure I catch the ball in my hand that five inches away. She makes me start over. After about five tries she tell me to move onto the high hurdles. I picked up the dropped tennis ball and attempt to dribbling it to the hurdles. Yeah that doesn’t work.
                So I get to the high hurdles. Never being one for much vertical height I kind of over jumped the first hurdle and threw the ball in the opposite direction. Oops. So  nail the second one after one of my class mates hands me the ball and attempts not to laugh. I dribble the ball to the bowling pins. And as the coach is literally breathing down my neck I can’t dribble the stupid yellow ball to save my life. So I say the one thing that every kid jokes about when your handed a basketball and can’t dribble to save your life. “White kids don’t play basketball!”
                My coach not realizing I was talking to myself nor understanding me agrees fully. My ball went flying across the gym because it hit a pin when I jerkily hit it on the up bound as I busted out laughing….
                She made me start over.
                So it was disastrous but not over yet. She got rid of the hurdles fixed the juggling pins set out more cones and brought out a medium height balance beams. Now I can do balance beams. For someone who is always tripping over their own feet I have an amazing sense of balance on these things and could probably skip across one without blinking an eye.
                But not with a tennis ball….
                 I nearly fall off and break my neck. Luckily my quick reflexes save me, I think it was more to keep me from embarrassing myself in front of my classmates anymore than I already had than the sense of self preservation.  So I make it across the balance beam, dignity still partially in tack and make it ot the cones. We have to “bowl” the tennis ball though the foot wide set area between the bowling pins. I suck at bowling, I get gutter balls ever with the lane lines in… seriously.
                So of course I miss. I try again. Miss. Finally in the midst of flying tennis balls and the teacher turning her back I tan back into the line.
                We had to do it a second time. Except this time instead of throwing the tennis ball up and catching it as we walked across the balance we had to throw it back and forth between out hands. I did it, until the last three feet I was watching for the end so I would falling off and miss catching the ball in my hand.
                I got to the bowling part again and this time you had to lay on your stomach and roll the ball across the gym through the set area. I don’t know if it was my background in gold, or having shoot guns before so I kind of knew how to aim or if God finally decided he had his fill of Paige humour for the day and sprinkled down some good luck. But the first time for the next three times I did this the ball not only went seamlessly through but sometimes I read the curve of the floor or nitch and the ball would curve straight through the targets. All the while my classmates balls are missing repeatedly.  It was my sense of pride in gym and my redeeming moment I should say.
                So gym was over we went to change, suprisnly it was not rushed like you would think, and there aren’t that many girls, in fact I didn’t realize it until today but there are definitely more boys in the classroom. So it wasn’t crowded at all.
                I put my folded cloths back in my bag (I have formed a bit of OCD since being here when it comes to organization and cleanliness of things… I’m sure my parents will be so please.) and head out of the changing room with the other girls.
                On the way back up the stairs they tell me across the street they have a “camp”. (think, track soccer field complex thing some small high schools have so everything is in one field). And that usually they play soccer. I mentioned I loved soccer, I secretly think all the boys that heard me cringed. And one of the girls informed that the girls play volleyball while the guys play soccer.
                So I’ll probably come back a volleyball pro, and I might just have to dust off my goalie skills and show these Italians boys that Texan girls don’t mind getting dirty when it comes to sports and that were not all completely uncoordinated.
                Gym was a nice break and fanning myself to get my red face back to a normal color took my attention for thirty minutes of philosophy while the teacher was lecturing. And then came our mid morning break. Usually I went out with the two girls sitting beside me who befriended me the first day.
                But today the girl from gym(and the beach) asked me if I wanted to go with them. I didn’t want to blow the other two girls off who were so kind to take on the lost and wide eyed American girl in the first place. But these girls were also friends with my host sister who was in Texas and my host sister had nothing but nice things so about them. And they were nice girls, but the whole not acting like I’m there thing kind of soured my outlook on them. But after gym and them being nice and actually helping me I thought my host sister was kind enough and smart enough she wouldn’t be friend with such hypocritical people. So I said yes and joined them. I’m glad I’m did because they were very nice and one of the girls form the beach upon seeing me actually gave me a cheek kiss. I think I grinned and yes blushed because I knew they only did this to true friends, and well it was still of kind of awkward.
                So they were very nice and I asked me if I had an Italian teacher. I told them no and that my host mother was helping me as I taught myself and often my host sister helped as well. Though she usually laughed and it ended up with us eating chocolate as she fixed my Italian pronunciations. When I told them this they both laughed.
                They also asked me why I didn’t eat. Because usually kids at least eat crackers if not a foccicia sandwich and maybe a small box of fruit juice. Well at eleven in the morning after eating three pieces of amazing bread each morning (small pieces) with strawberry jam, I wasn’t usually hungry and with school eating at 1 and eating around 1:30 the amazing lunch Toni always has ready for me, I know that if get a bit puckish I won’t go starving soon.  So I told them I just wasn’t hungry. They looked at me weird and even said. “Well that’s good”. I just laughed. (I did a lot of that today). They tried out English idioms or I should say American Idioms in there conversation and got so excited when they got it right. Much like I did when I said something right in Italian. I think having them as friends and spending the break time with them will be a good way to help me on my to Italian. Because right now it’s like my brains rebelling all of it. The more I try to learn, the more it pushes out. But none the less a usually boring, foot dragging, mind numbing school day was turning out to be great.
                But I did have chemistry. Yeah…. Yeah remember the wood stock teacher. Well she gave me an assignment of doing the conversion chart. Well she asked me five times if it was correct to each time I answered yes… (Because I wouldn’t be using it in the first place. It’s not like the metric symbols she was writing on the board would be foreign to me. And I double checked the calculations.) So then she wanted it bigger so she could hang up on he wall. I tried to explain to her that that wouldn’t be necessary. I only needed to the small right corner of the chart which was the words translated…. And I that the rest of the class didn’t need to be staring at my horrendous hand writing. Though compared to how everyone writes here my handwriting could possibly be considered calligraphy… no joke.
                So I’m sure when she ask for the big chart I’ll explain that the chart isn’t necessary and she can just let me keep my small one. Because for one thing I may not be in that class once the school get my set in stone timetable figured out. And if she wants a chart wait until my parents ship me my chemistry quaderno I asked for… she’ll be mine blown… and possible want to copy and translate the whole thing at how amazing the notes are. (Thank you Ms. Jones J  you were an awesome chemistry teacher).
                So besides her still being slightly dull it seems, the rest of the day went good.
                I guess you could say that you have bad days, and good days and then you have those rare days that are amazing and you smile your way through them… yeah today was one of those days.

Oh and I forgot to add that the friends I weren't sure about, turned out are really great , funny, and sweet people. I guess it's one of those things  were they were as unsure of me as I was of them things....