A face that is unrecognized. A sound you have never heard. A thought never processed. A never experienced feeling. Not coming from something you know. Different.
Hey,
This is the same word that I did yesterday. I wonder when they change it? Foreign makes me think of extranjero. I’m not sure that I spelled that right. Whatever. Some people use foreign in a derogatory way, but I think it’s just something different form what you are used to. Of course there’s the rock group Foreigner. The album I always think of was Foreigner
I have this feeling in my gut that I shouldn’t be here. I’ve never really had this feeling before now. I don’t really know what to do about it. Maybe ill just go with it and see where it takes me.
These two common folk will now echange something that is foreign to the other. lets switch up or general routine every day and shock it by introducing a element that will force us to stpstep back and take a look at what is happening as is.
i used to feel like a foreigner in chicago, a smudge on the windshield of a beautiful city. i wasn’t aware of all the little nooks and corner bakeries and comic book stores that are essential to being a local. to be honest, i still don’t feel like a total citizen. i have a lot more learning to do. but i finally don’t feel as if i belong somewhere else, as if i could possibly be anywhere else anymore. i feel more like a child growing up in the city, eager to reach new peaks and always climbing.
The words felt foreign and strange in her ears: “I don’t think this is working.”
“Oh,” was the only reply she could muster. She knew Anne was right. Of course she it wasn’t working. But hearing it still made her stomach clench like she’d been kicked.
The girl was so new – so strange and exotic and //exciting – that Elsa didn’t know what to do with herself. How could her own cold world compare to the exuberance brought on by the red-headed stranger.
It didn’t take long for her to realise that… this stranger didn’t care.
She brought her own sunshine, and, strangely (and most welcomed)… brought her sunshine with her.
A foreigner. That’s what I am. A foreign girl in a foreign land. And yet now even the place I’m supposed to call “home” feels foreign. It’s a strange word, isn’t it? Indicating that a place or person is not familiar and that it is not where you really belong. But yet the place that is supposedly my “home” feels so much more foreign to me than this place does.
Am I some foreign being? No, I can’t be. Noone is. We all come from the same Universe as I do. And that Universe can be your friend or your enemy and that is up to you, my friend. It will provide whatever you are thinking about.
This is a foreign place. A destination that was unheard of. Many people didn’t know where it was and I am sure they don’t. It is full of foreigners this place. The percentage of locals is smaller than the rest of the population. The economy thrives on the labour of foreginers. This is how it survives, thrives. It is a foreign place. A sandy, dusty desert.
Well, when I moved to this town it felt very foreign to me. I came from a place of snow and tall pines. Mountains, streams, rivers, creeks. And now, here I am, smack in the middle of the Mojave desert. Do I like it here? I LOVE it here. Sometimes it’s good to get out of your comfort zone and go for the foreign of life.
I don’t know why you give me emotions that are all together foreign and familiar. It’s frustrating and I don’t know why I still hold on for you. You’re familiar to me, I’m familiar to you, but we’re not familiar. “We” are foreign. I don’t know why I’m stupid enough to hold on and linger on these thoughts of “us”. I guess it’s because I’m still hoping. I’m hoping for you to notice our similarities and not our differences. As long as we keep the border lines, we’re foreign.
It feels foreign, this world and its people at times. But it’s also a self-induced condition, an extra measure of protection from the hurts of the human experience. It hurts to feel, to live. So you numb yourself to sensation and become nothing more than a machine.
She wasn’t just exotic, something about her mystified him. he loved the way she saw the world in a way that he could never fathom. She saw brilliance where he saw monotony she saw light where he found disappointment and most of all she saw something in his art that no one else had been able to see. she saw his soul and that terrified him
She came up to me when I was young. We spoke totally different languages. I didn’t even know creole was a language at the time. But that didn’t stop us. We played, we just played. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. How could someone so foreign makeme feel like I’ve known her my entire life?
extranjero is the first thing I think of since I’ve been studying Spanish. Foreign means so many things, but mostly different from what one is used to. Sometimes it is used in a derogatory manner.
i wanted to know you, wanted you to know me
and all you saw was a travel brochure,
exotic, exxxotic,
jungle and that yellow fever,
i was a risk you were willing to take
but all i wanted was a you to call home
sleep is a foreign sensation to me at this point. i have stayed up for some many nights perfecting this manuscript that my bed has become a mistress of the past, long forgotten as i slave over this single scrap of parchment that will hopefully hold my life stories. my eyes burn from looking at the computer screen, my shoulders ache from sitting up for so long, i stare at the blue hurtling across the surface to reach the finish line.
The foreign man was standing at the corner, puffing on a cigarette. Smoke rings came out of his mouth and dispersed into the air around him. He had a gleam in his eyes, and a smirk upon his thin lips. I cringed when I saw him move his hand to the pockets of his overcoat, knowing full well that he was going to kill me with whatever it was that was now in his hand.
The foreign ambassador said nothing as she sat at the conference table, listening to every word of the negotiations. She wasn’t sure if anyone else there realized that she could understand every language being spoken. There was the smooth, yet pompous, French ambassador, trilling and trumpeting about his nation’s upcoming election. The sharp and deliberate German ambassador, stroking his thin mustache as he spoke about more personal matters. And of course, the rough Russian, who with every element of his tone sounded like he did not want to be there.
It was only a year when he left. But when he came back, everything seemed foreign. He could not understand why there were so many actionf figures on the wall; or why the Greenday CD was the one left in the player; or what the ragged basketball signed by Kobe was doing at the foot of the bed. None of them felt like they were his, like they were from someone he wouldn’t really be comfortable being with. Finally, he was not able to sleep in his own bed, he kept thinking of when he would be leaving.
The exchange student walks into the room. Everyone’s eyes staring, assessing his abilities, his style, his looks. He’s nervous, frightened, and sad. Nervous about what other think about him, frightened because he doesn’t want to make a mistake, and sad because of the friends he’s left.
A student stares across the room at the exchange student and is impressed at his cool style, his good looks, and his bolstering confidence. She gets nervous, frightened, and sad. Nervous because she wants him to like him, frightened because she doesn’t want to say anything dumb, and sad because she thinks she has no chance.
something not familiar at all. something that takes time and effort to learn about. something that you shouldn’t fear. could be a language, could be a place, could be a name, could be a face.
A person who is unaccustomed to a new cultural experience. Most of the time they do not understand the language, and thus must find the understanding of other’s characters through body language.
It had been many years since he’d come to the Institute, taken in by Tobias at a low time in his life. He’d been living in Greece for more than ten years, and still, he felt like an outsider, a stranger in a foreign land, and all those displacement cliches. Still, it was a home of some kind, even though he and it did not quite fit.
He looked foreign and that was why so many of the girls smiled at him as he walked through the halls of his new school on the first day. Foreign. Girls thought that held a magical formula for a good boyfriend. He wasn’t foreign and he wasn’t interested. He was here for one thing…to find the boy who had seen his father’s murder.
I don’t like it when people call others foreign. I know it’s not a “bad” word, necessarily, but it seems cruel to me, somehow. Objects are foreign. Concepts are foreign. People are not. Just a little different.
A face that is unrecognized. A sound you have never heard. A thought never processed. A never experienced feeling. Not coming from something you know. Different.
four.
(OOps, I didn’t see the time’s up so I kept typing and then I was like, hey…)
Hey,
This is the same word that I did yesterday. I wonder when they change it? Foreign makes me think of extranjero. I’m not sure that I spelled that right. Whatever. Some people use foreign in a derogatory way, but I think it’s just something different form what you are used to. Of course there’s the rock group Foreigner. The album I always think of was Foreigner
I have this feeling in my gut that I shouldn’t be here. I’ve never really had this feeling before now. I don’t really know what to do about it. Maybe ill just go with it and see where it takes me.
It felt so odd to me, but i knew that i wanted it. That even once this moment has past, id feel that id need it.
These two common folk will now echange something that is foreign to the other. lets switch up or general routine every day and shock it by introducing a element that will force us to stpstep back and take a look at what is happening as is.
i used to feel like a foreigner in chicago, a smudge on the windshield of a beautiful city. i wasn’t aware of all the little nooks and corner bakeries and comic book stores that are essential to being a local. to be honest, i still don’t feel like a total citizen. i have a lot more learning to do. but i finally don’t feel as if i belong somewhere else, as if i could possibly be anywhere else anymore. i feel more like a child growing up in the city, eager to reach new peaks and always climbing.
The words felt foreign and strange in her ears: “I don’t think this is working.”
“Oh,” was the only reply she could muster. She knew Anne was right. Of course she it wasn’t working. But hearing it still made her stomach clench like she’d been kicked.
The girl was so new – so strange and exotic and //exciting – that Elsa didn’t know what to do with herself. How could her own cold world compare to the exuberance brought on by the red-headed stranger.
It didn’t take long for her to realise that… this stranger didn’t care.
She brought her own sunshine, and, strangely (and most welcomed)… brought her sunshine with her.
A foreigner. That’s what I am. A foreign girl in a foreign land. And yet now even the place I’m supposed to call “home” feels foreign. It’s a strange word, isn’t it? Indicating that a place or person is not familiar and that it is not where you really belong. But yet the place that is supposedly my “home” feels so much more foreign to me than this place does.
Received the foreign gloves. The label was from Burkina Faso. He proabably expected something a little more chemical.
Am I some foreign being? No, I can’t be. Noone is. We all come from the same Universe as I do. And that Universe can be your friend or your enemy and that is up to you, my friend. It will provide whatever you are thinking about.
This is a foreign place. A destination that was unheard of. Many people didn’t know where it was and I am sure they don’t. It is full of foreigners this place. The percentage of locals is smaller than the rest of the population. The economy thrives on the labour of foreginers. This is how it survives, thrives. It is a foreign place. A sandy, dusty desert.
Well, when I moved to this town it felt very foreign to me. I came from a place of snow and tall pines. Mountains, streams, rivers, creeks. And now, here I am, smack in the middle of the Mojave desert. Do I like it here? I LOVE it here. Sometimes it’s good to get out of your comfort zone and go for the foreign of life.
I don’t know why you give me emotions that are all together foreign and familiar. It’s frustrating and I don’t know why I still hold on for you. You’re familiar to me, I’m familiar to you, but we’re not familiar. “We” are foreign. I don’t know why I’m stupid enough to hold on and linger on these thoughts of “us”. I guess it’s because I’m still hoping. I’m hoping for you to notice our similarities and not our differences. As long as we keep the border lines, we’re foreign.
It feels foreign, this world and its people at times. But it’s also a self-induced condition, an extra measure of protection from the hurts of the human experience. It hurts to feel, to live. So you numb yourself to sensation and become nothing more than a machine.
She wasn’t just exotic, something about her mystified him. he loved the way she saw the world in a way that he could never fathom. She saw brilliance where he saw monotony she saw light where he found disappointment and most of all she saw something in his art that no one else had been able to see. she saw his soul and that terrified him
She came up to me when I was young. We spoke totally different languages. I didn’t even know creole was a language at the time. But that didn’t stop us. We played, we just played. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. How could someone so foreign makeme feel like I’ve known her my entire life?
extranjero is the first thing I think of since I’ve been studying Spanish. Foreign means so many things, but mostly different from what one is used to. Sometimes it is used in a derogatory manner.
i wanted to know you, wanted you to know me
and all you saw was a travel brochure,
exotic, exxxotic,
jungle and that yellow fever,
i was a risk you were willing to take
but all i wanted was a you to call home
sleep is a foreign sensation to me at this point. i have stayed up for some many nights perfecting this manuscript that my bed has become a mistress of the past, long forgotten as i slave over this single scrap of parchment that will hopefully hold my life stories. my eyes burn from looking at the computer screen, my shoulders ache from sitting up for so long, i stare at the blue hurtling across the surface to reach the finish line.
The foreign man was standing at the corner, puffing on a cigarette. Smoke rings came out of his mouth and dispersed into the air around him. He had a gleam in his eyes, and a smirk upon his thin lips. I cringed when I saw him move his hand to the pockets of his overcoat, knowing full well that he was going to kill me with whatever it was that was now in his hand.
The foreign ambassador said nothing as she sat at the conference table, listening to every word of the negotiations. She wasn’t sure if anyone else there realized that she could understand every language being spoken. There was the smooth, yet pompous, French ambassador, trilling and trumpeting about his nation’s upcoming election. The sharp and deliberate German ambassador, stroking his thin mustache as he spoke about more personal matters. And of course, the rough Russian, who with every element of his tone sounded like he did not want to be there.
It was only a year when he left. But when he came back, everything seemed foreign. He could not understand why there were so many actionf figures on the wall; or why the Greenday CD was the one left in the player; or what the ragged basketball signed by Kobe was doing at the foot of the bed. None of them felt like they were his, like they were from someone he wouldn’t really be comfortable being with. Finally, he was not able to sleep in his own bed, he kept thinking of when he would be leaving.
The exchange student walks into the room. Everyone’s eyes staring, assessing his abilities, his style, his looks. He’s nervous, frightened, and sad. Nervous about what other think about him, frightened because he doesn’t want to make a mistake, and sad because of the friends he’s left.
A student stares across the room at the exchange student and is impressed at his cool style, his good looks, and his bolstering confidence. She gets nervous, frightened, and sad. Nervous because she wants him to like him, frightened because she doesn’t want to say anything dumb, and sad because she thinks she has no chance.
I like foreign films
something not familiar at all. something that takes time and effort to learn about. something that you shouldn’t fear. could be a language, could be a place, could be a name, could be a face.
A person who is unaccustomed to a new cultural experience. Most of the time they do not understand the language, and thus must find the understanding of other’s characters through body language.
foreign born forlorn torn
better dirt than go into the hole
foreign horns forewarn scorn
once a part soon the whole
It had been many years since he’d come to the Institute, taken in by Tobias at a low time in his life. He’d been living in Greece for more than ten years, and still, he felt like an outsider, a stranger in a foreign land, and all those displacement cliches. Still, it was a home of some kind, even though he and it did not quite fit.
He looked foreign and that was why so many of the girls smiled at him as he walked through the halls of his new school on the first day. Foreign. Girls thought that held a magical formula for a good boyfriend. He wasn’t foreign and he wasn’t interested. He was here for one thing…to find the boy who had seen his father’s murder.
if this were my day i’d live overseas
like a foreign object
drifting
in the grand pacific gyre
waiting
to find the beach
and be home
I don’t like it when people call others foreign. I know it’s not a “bad” word, necessarily, but it seems cruel to me, somehow. Objects are foreign. Concepts are foreign. People are not. Just a little different.