Who can guess what I’m wearing today? That’s right, a sweater–a thick green one from my mom’s closet. Anyway, it’s time for my daily rediscovery. Here’s what I wrote today in free period.
French. I absolutely adore French with all my heart. Always have, always will. It’s graceful, gorgeous, and comes so naturally. In seventh grade, I took an Intro to Foreign Language class. We were introduced to French, Spanish, German, Latin, and Japanese. That’s when I discovered I had a natural talent for languages. (Except Japanese. For whatever reason, it didn’t make sense to me.) I hated Latin. Spanish was easy, but I didn’t like it. German was quite natural for me, but because my older brother was taking French, I decided to take it, too.
It was the best decision of my life, and I haven’t regretted a second of it. In eighth grade, I started my first year of French. Even while I was depressed, apathetic, and nearly failing all my other classes, French still squeezed its way into my mind and made a permanent place there. All year, I got 100 percent or higher. (Actually, one quarter it dropped to a 99.80, and I started crying.) The thing with me is that if I start out really well, I have to keep doing well. I feel obligated to. If I start off on the wrong foot, I’m doomed.
This is my second year of French, and I’m getting something like a 98. I love when my classmates look at me, amazed, and ask “Are you a freshman?!” or “Are you French?” Yes, I am a freshman; and I am part French. I don’t think being part French really makes a difference, though. My mom is more French than I am, and she doesn’t have any aptitude for the language. Besides, I’m more Swedish than anything else.
Anyway, if you know me, just come up to me and say something in French. Have a conversation with me. I will love you forever and ever, and I’ll do my very best to continue the conversation with my limited knowledge.
You know what I really want? I want to wear a nice, thick sweater, drink creamy hot chocolate around a fire with my friends, and speak French. Can this please happen? Like, a French Christmas party? We can have baguettes, and I’ll make myself a croque-monsieur.
I’m going to write something really random in French.
Cette pizza est mauvaise. Je suis malade! Excusez-moi, je vais vomir maitenant. Est-ce que je peux aller aux toilettes?
It translates to: this pizza is bad. I am sick! Excuse me, I am going to vomit right now. Can I go to the bathroom?
Ha ha. I’m cool.
I’m enjoying these rediscovery days. I need to do this more often.