I have just spent five minutes recalling all the events of the previous week at the desk and Having taken so much time to do such made me realize that I haven't really been paying much attention to myself. Sure that I have done whatever I feel like doing, but I don't feel like I have been paying mind to what I FEEL at every single moment. In retrospect, it felt like a state of sleepwalking, or somnambulating; doing something, but not really registering anything. There are sure to be some highs in the week, and those are the things I want to grasp on this week.
Driving Test: Passed
"You have to do this in one go. One go only, there are no other choices or plan B for you to step back on. You are in the middle of a rapids, coursing and roaring with no large rocks behind you to return to the the side where you came from."
That was what I kept saying to myself on the day of my examination for my driver's license. I know it sounded like I was depicting the end of the world, but I sort of have a point; this is the last driving test I will be able to take before I fly to Germany for university (even though I am still waiting for the results) and I certainly want to have my diver's license in hand after having spent all the money and time trying to parallel park and doubting if my eyes are seeing correctly, not to mention that this is also my only ticket to apply for an international license, should the need to drive arises in Germany in the future. With the revelation weighs down on me, I was as taut as a bowstring throughout the day, no matter when I was taking the written tests for driving regulations or when I was waiting for my turn for the real diving test. I was numbered the 43rd doing the diving test, meaning there was plenty time for me to implode and innerly freak out before it really was my turn. By the time it was my turn sitting in the driver's seat, I was more numbed by the constant self-inflicted fear than I am afraid of the test. I guess it was why I could still stay calm on the surface, muttering all the steps as my hands and feet moved and motioned correspondingly.
As it turned out, I seemed to have overthought the whole deal of this examination. The judges were stern-faced and were barking orders that you are to follow, but unless you really do something out of bounds or turn the wheels to the completely wrong direction, you don't have to be asked out of the car, which indicates your failure of the test.
I passed, with a lot of luck, actually. I was really nervous when doing to the road trip section of the test, and I was minding too much of the judge's motion. As he abruptly shifted his left leg, I thought something I did went totally wrong, and I stepped on the brakes immediately, which almost brought the car to a complete halt. The judge practically bellowed at me, demanding me an explanation as to what in the world I was doing, in mid-turn at the corner of the road. I quickly loosened my grip on the brakes by retracting my right feet while muttering furtive apologies. But hey, I did it at the end of the day, didn't I?
In the driving courses I made several friends, one even from CCSH and happens to be Summer's student in another homeroom class. I know, that our chances of actually keeping in touch is bleak, but I thank the and my coach for being there with me, fighting alongside me when I was trying to rein in the metallic beast, teaching me what techniques there are to complete the test. Without them sitting next to me I the waiting line, also freaking out, I don't think I would make it to the finish line.
It was not an activity I willing those to engage in, taking up driving, but I know I enjoyed it like anyone who would love to drive even before the courses.
Notre professeur de français, il est rentré
That means "Our French Teacher Has Returned"I mentioned that two years ago when I was in England, when I learned that my first French teacher was actually quitting his job in the institution where I used to learn French and returning to France.
On his Facebook status we can frequently see his updates on his vacation in France and his decision to go work in Shanghai. He kept mentioning about the possibility of visiting Taiwan every once in a while, but it was only two years later did he actually come back. He is the kind of teacher you would miss: playful, patient, and a little but childish. Of course, when we heard about his pending return, we the classmates were all excited. Melody was the first to take initiative, organizing meetups, looking for restaurants for dinner. Melody and Candy were anxious. They left the French courses much earlier than I did, and even though I quitted about a year ago, I have never lost contact with the language. Either through reading children' books written in French or listening and singing to French pop songs, there isn't really a day I haven't passed without seeing at least a phrase or two in French. I did forget a great deal as to the many words learned in French classes, but I can still manage to strike up a conversation or two.
Wednesday, dinner night.
Thomas was sitting at the table across the warmly lit, spacious room as we pushed through the bulky door. His hair was shaven and looked significantly... heavier. But his smile showed that nothing was changed, and the French teacher we had come to be acquainted with.
Before I continue on, I want to give a bit more information on the dynamics of the class. Our class was, in fact, very openminded and free. When Candy, Melody, and I were still sixteen and seventeen, the other adult classmates were very open about everything, about love, about gossip, and about sexual orientation. It was the factor that made sure that our classes are filled with raucous laughter, and one that made it incredibly easy to come out as gay. The adults don't treat us the highschoolers as someone inferior and gave us a great time in general during classes.
Back to the dinner, our teacher shattered the initial silence by asking the folks at the table a question that threw us completely off kilter, "Do you guys have boyfriends yet?" The familiar lively feeling returned with the odd sense of humor of this odd teacher.
With basic French skills at my disposal, it would only make sense that I made the most of it to try to converse in French.
Thomas also happens to fit in the romantic stereotype of a French person. When Melody asked him about the tattoos that were visible from his sleeves' opening, a stylized symbol that looks like a capitalized "M". He stopped and thought for a moment. "It's short for Melody." Which led to another collective uproar. He then said that it was from a Japanese anime that he has grown infatuated with.
The light dinner was finished, and we proceeded to have some of our photos taken. Being a photo-awkward person, the others kept shouting advices as to what pose to use, until one of my lovable classmates -Jayce, I reckon- shouted out "Look at each other in the eye!" I barked out a laugh of surprise, but Thomas next to me, apparently had better ideas than to brush it off. He turned to me, a smile already tugging at his lips, and stared straight into my eyes.
I didn't know it would be so hard to keep eye contact. I see different shades of brown forming two concentric circles, focusing in the centers of the two circles were a pair of undilated dark pupils. It was mesmerizing, but it also felt like getting pulled into a dark current in the river. I heard Melody cry out with laughter, saying that the tip of my ears were bright red, that I blushed furiously, but I willed myself to hold the gaze a little longer, either for proving that this is a challenge I could surmount or for getting stuck by the pair of eyes I cannot really say. Anyway, the picture was taken, and it was really a novel experience for me. At the same time, it proved that our French teacher has "flirting" as a skill up his sleeves.
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| I was flustered. |
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| Oh and Candy got a new haircut. |
End and I was Late
Today is Monday of the following week. I started the letter yesterday late at night, but when my phone told me that it was two in the morning already, Mom happened to wake up momentarily from her sleep and was ticked off that I was not already in bed. With no other choices, I had to go to bed. I could have just stopped at the diver's license, but I felt like I would love to read about my reaction when I once stared into the depths of my very charming French teacher two or three years from today.
Sincerely,
Hugo
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