This weekend, I am leaving for the states! This will be my third time visiting since I moved to Paris three years ago. Continue reading “Getting Ready To Go State Side”
This is my third, consecutive 4th of July that I am not spending back home in the states (!!!), and it’s a pretty weird thought. My last 4th I remember spending with friends and even sending my what would become French host family photos from the night. Continue reading “Made from Red, White and Blue”
Dear 19 year old Veronica,
Hi. It’s 21 year old you. You are now officially the age to be able to step foot in a bar in America (you did this past Christmas when you visited family and friends). I am writing this to tell you that you are strong. Continue reading “Letter to the 19 Year Old That Arrived in France”
I am the daughter of an immigrant. Continue reading “Daughter of an Immigrant”
Two Years Ago
An article I wrote in the midst of my anger.
“No child left behind, that’s the American scheme” raps Macklemore in Ten Thousand Hours, words that to me, resonated as I drove by the high school I graduated from.
Continue reading “No Child Left Behind… But I Was: Building My Own Dream”
“The French are rude and they hate Americans.”
This is probably one of the biggest lies I have ever heard dealing with the French, or so I believe. Never once have I been shamed for being an American (except with my old host family, but even the French think they were weird). Revealing my roots, they get excited and ask me about where I am from. If they have traveled to America, they will recount about their experiences abroad. It is quite interesting. Continue reading “Xenia”
Give me 6-12 months in a new town or city, my mind will start to think about the next city to live in. It is a habit, something I cannot help. I noticed it the last move, between Oregon and Indiana. I absolutely adored the suburb I lived in outside of Portland, the friends I had made and the high school I went to (my teachers made going to school worthwhile). Then when we arrived to Indiana, I cried for months. Why had I agreed to move when I loved home so much?