That's to say, it's covered in pretty-colored bubbles. Although not all of these bubbles are good things. Classes, work, registration dates. Blah. I'm trying to get shit together for summer school, but unfortunately SFSU is dragging their feet posting the schedule. The fee deadlines are up, but nothing about the class times. I'm taking magazine writing and what I hope will be a very easy GE class about women and politics. It's really awkward that I left some of these basic requirements until senior year -- being a senior in a 100 level class seems shameful for some reason. Whaaaaatever. I've also been playing around with my college Excel spreadsheet. I made this damn thing the summer of 2005, after getting home from orientation. It's changed from journalism classes, to journalism and French classes, two semesters of summer school. Now I'm trying to figure out the classes I'll take next year. I just can't live in the present, that's one of my biggest problems. I am always ten steps ahead of myself. I look for apartments in San Francisco, I write down class times for two semesters from now. In high school I used to spend Sundays looking at my future apartment in New York and looking up the salary for an entry-level magazine job. If I die tomorrow, at least I've lived most of my future in my head.
This morning I booked flights to Vienna. Well, I booked flights to Bratislava (50 euros woot woot) and looked up a bus time to take me to downtown Vienna. When I was little, my parents hired Austrian au pairs who took care of me and my brother during the day and took free English classes at night. There was a time in my life when I knew a bit of German. I wish my parents had made them speak German to me. Anyway, Edith was always my favorite. It's possible that she was totally exceptional or she just lived with us during a time I remember particularly well (she was preceded by Angela -- Ahn-gay-luh, love German -- and followed by Sieglinde and Maggie). Edith kept in contact with us my entire life and I actually ended up seeing her four years ago in Paris with my mom. Well now she's invited me to spend a week with her in Vienna (I'm only doing four days, though) during spring break. So I'll be four days in Rome with Lauren, then a couple days home, then four days in Vienna. So that makes up for the fact that I won't be going to Nice during spring break. I just keep reminding myself that come hell or high water I will make up for all of that beach tim e lying on some volcanic sand in Santorini.
The drama right now is that Lauren announced she'd like to peace out this weekend, probably to London. Flights are ridiculous (even though I refuse to fly to London for less than the lovely EasyJet price of 70 euro, not available last minute) so if I go it'll be Eurolines. Fucking long bus ride, but it's vacation, I got time and maybe I'll take a nap or something. We'll see if Lauren can get the flights together on her side.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Doomsday
Well, I did survive my meeting yesterday. Unfortunately, I did not escape totally unscathed.
The morning started out with a 7 am wake up call, which I was none too pleased out to begin with. I made my coffee, left at 7:45, and quickly realized that a 9 am call time also means that I'll have to compete with the rest of humanity to be on time, who are also all trying to be somewhere by 9 am. The night before I had mapped out my route and found the bus stops and lines I could take to get to the office. When I arrived at 8:40, none of those options were there. I did find one bus that would have taken me straight there, but the last one left at 8:42 (when I was frantically searching for other buses), and another one wouldn't arrive until noonish. So I ran around in circles for a while, then spotted an ATM and a taxi line. So I did. I took a 7 euro cab ride. I ended up being 10 minutes late, but obviously at this point, anything less than five minutes early was unacceptable. They said I should have, "anticipated," which is dumb, because clearly I did. And then they said there was a walking path to get there, but how could I have known that?
Anyway, the meeting started off with some random paperwork she claimed she had received a month ago and it shouldn't have taken this long for me to sign it. Except she just asked me to come in last week. Whatever. Next she asked for my "justicatif" for having missed work when I was sick. I had twice sent in letters explaining but apparently I had the wrong address or something. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because apparently I need a doctor's note. Is that a joke? I've seen a doctor twice for illness. Once for a raging ear infection and the other when I all but stopped breathing twice in one day. I wouldn't waste my time for a cold or even the flu. So I filled out some paperwork and apparently that was done.
Next came the crap. Apparently some of the teachers for principals from my school have mentioned something about me to the inspection. They didn't really elaborate on whether it was my teaching style, my personality, my lesson planning -- I don't know. But I was totally crushed. Apparently there is some sort of problem and no one has told me until now. The inspector said that it's not really the principal's place to give me constructive criticism, and it's even less acceptable for the teachers to do so. Well fuck you and your bureaucracy. Nothing is ever anyone's job here, it's always someone else's problem. If you don't understand the system, no one will explain it to you or be sensitive to the fact that there's no way you could have known. I understand that the French culture is very high context and everyone just knows what is expected of them and what to do, but there is no contingency for someone who doesn't fit that mold. I mean it's not like I'm a retard -- but if you're going to hire native speakers of a language, you have to recognize that they also have a native culture that isn't as hush-hush and undiscussed as yours.
Needless to say, I spent a good part of the meeting in tears. I really hope they don't think I was trying for sympathy, because I really wasn't. I'd been on the verge of tears since my outburst at work on Thursday. So I sat there, I cried, I apologized, I told them that I had no idea there was a problem and that there was no way I could have known. Somewhere along the line we ended up drinking tea and talking about roller coasters and places in France I should visit. So I don't know. They offered to come observe me again in class and give suggestions, but last time not a whole lot happened either. It's like, you can say, "do this, do that," but there are no tools for me to do it. Plus I've only got six weeks left and I feel totally betrayed, so I barely want to put forth the effort. We'll see how it goes. I have two weeks off to regroup, re-evaluate how I feel about all of this. Regardless I'm writing a letter to the inspection, in English, which I will send after my contract ends. I just want them to know that so much of this can be avoided if they just get organized and come up with a real system for assistants, instead of just throwing them into these schools and saying "teach." They say over and over again that they realize I'm not a teacher, but even teachers get teaching materials.
Anyway, afterwards I hiked up the hill to the RER station. When I got home there was a note on my mailbox from my neighbor, saying I needed to go to the post office immediately. How they even managed to contact her and not me, I don't know. Anyway, I showed up with the note and went to the guichet. The bitch there said I needed to be more specific, to tell her whether it was concerning something with the bank or a package or whatever. I told her I had been waiting for a package, and I could give her my name and address so she could search. Instead she dropped me off in the financial services office and made that woman go search for my package, which isn't her job. Luckily she did it anyway. I just kept saying, "here's my name, here's my address, does that tell you anything?" Ugh. Bureaucracy. Nothing is their job. If I had been at home, they would have immediately asked for my name and address, at the front desk, and searched for the package. I understand you have to ask three times for EVERYTHING in France, but quite frankly I'm getting a little exasperated. There used to be a feeling of triumph after having système D'd it like a champ, but now I just feel frustrated from wasting time and energy. In any case, I have my boots now.
Unfortunately, I still have this overwhelming feeling of dread. School is under control, I don't have to work for two weeks, I am a free bird until Tuesday afternoon. But still, I feel like shit. So in an attempt to regain my confidence, I'm going to be productive. I'm going to clean my apartment, do my homework, finish reading a couple books. I'm going to take maximum advantage of this break so I can put my head down and get through the last six weeks of work.
The morning started out with a 7 am wake up call, which I was none too pleased out to begin with. I made my coffee, left at 7:45, and quickly realized that a 9 am call time also means that I'll have to compete with the rest of humanity to be on time, who are also all trying to be somewhere by 9 am. The night before I had mapped out my route and found the bus stops and lines I could take to get to the office. When I arrived at 8:40, none of those options were there. I did find one bus that would have taken me straight there, but the last one left at 8:42 (when I was frantically searching for other buses), and another one wouldn't arrive until noonish. So I ran around in circles for a while, then spotted an ATM and a taxi line. So I did. I took a 7 euro cab ride. I ended up being 10 minutes late, but obviously at this point, anything less than five minutes early was unacceptable. They said I should have, "anticipated," which is dumb, because clearly I did. And then they said there was a walking path to get there, but how could I have known that?
Anyway, the meeting started off with some random paperwork she claimed she had received a month ago and it shouldn't have taken this long for me to sign it. Except she just asked me to come in last week. Whatever. Next she asked for my "justicatif" for having missed work when I was sick. I had twice sent in letters explaining but apparently I had the wrong address or something. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because apparently I need a doctor's note. Is that a joke? I've seen a doctor twice for illness. Once for a raging ear infection and the other when I all but stopped breathing twice in one day. I wouldn't waste my time for a cold or even the flu. So I filled out some paperwork and apparently that was done.
Next came the crap. Apparently some of the teachers for principals from my school have mentioned something about me to the inspection. They didn't really elaborate on whether it was my teaching style, my personality, my lesson planning -- I don't know. But I was totally crushed. Apparently there is some sort of problem and no one has told me until now. The inspector said that it's not really the principal's place to give me constructive criticism, and it's even less acceptable for the teachers to do so. Well fuck you and your bureaucracy. Nothing is ever anyone's job here, it's always someone else's problem. If you don't understand the system, no one will explain it to you or be sensitive to the fact that there's no way you could have known. I understand that the French culture is very high context and everyone just knows what is expected of them and what to do, but there is no contingency for someone who doesn't fit that mold. I mean it's not like I'm a retard -- but if you're going to hire native speakers of a language, you have to recognize that they also have a native culture that isn't as hush-hush and undiscussed as yours.
Needless to say, I spent a good part of the meeting in tears. I really hope they don't think I was trying for sympathy, because I really wasn't. I'd been on the verge of tears since my outburst at work on Thursday. So I sat there, I cried, I apologized, I told them that I had no idea there was a problem and that there was no way I could have known. Somewhere along the line we ended up drinking tea and talking about roller coasters and places in France I should visit. So I don't know. They offered to come observe me again in class and give suggestions, but last time not a whole lot happened either. It's like, you can say, "do this, do that," but there are no tools for me to do it. Plus I've only got six weeks left and I feel totally betrayed, so I barely want to put forth the effort. We'll see how it goes. I have two weeks off to regroup, re-evaluate how I feel about all of this. Regardless I'm writing a letter to the inspection, in English, which I will send after my contract ends. I just want them to know that so much of this can be avoided if they just get organized and come up with a real system for assistants, instead of just throwing them into these schools and saying "teach." They say over and over again that they realize I'm not a teacher, but even teachers get teaching materials.
Anyway, afterwards I hiked up the hill to the RER station. When I got home there was a note on my mailbox from my neighbor, saying I needed to go to the post office immediately. How they even managed to contact her and not me, I don't know. Anyway, I showed up with the note and went to the guichet. The bitch there said I needed to be more specific, to tell her whether it was concerning something with the bank or a package or whatever. I told her I had been waiting for a package, and I could give her my name and address so she could search. Instead she dropped me off in the financial services office and made that woman go search for my package, which isn't her job. Luckily she did it anyway. I just kept saying, "here's my name, here's my address, does that tell you anything?" Ugh. Bureaucracy. Nothing is their job. If I had been at home, they would have immediately asked for my name and address, at the front desk, and searched for the package. I understand you have to ask three times for EVERYTHING in France, but quite frankly I'm getting a little exasperated. There used to be a feeling of triumph after having système D'd it like a champ, but now I just feel frustrated from wasting time and energy. In any case, I have my boots now.
Unfortunately, I still have this overwhelming feeling of dread. School is under control, I don't have to work for two weeks, I am a free bird until Tuesday afternoon. But still, I feel like shit. So in an attempt to regain my confidence, I'm going to be productive. I'm going to clean my apartment, do my homework, finish reading a couple books. I'm going to take maximum advantage of this break so I can put my head down and get through the last six weeks of work.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Craquer
I snapped today. I mentioned previously that the kids have been becoming rowdier lately. It's only been about 6 weeks since they got back from vacation and luckily they're about to start a new one, cuz they are going insane.
Most of my classes went well today. The one morning class that gives me trouble each time without fail was more or less manageable. The first class after lunch, however, did me in. They're a group of 10/11 year olds and on Thursdays we split them in half (they're 31 all together, which is just insane) and one group stays with me while the other does some crap with their teacher in the computer lab. She coerced me, basically, into this system so that the kids would be more manageable and we could get more done. In fact, I think less gets one. First because I have to adapt my lesson plan to accommodate the fact that each student only attends 3/4 class periods. Next because even with just a door separating them their from their teacher, they are absolutely incorrigible. I don't know if they're just disrepectful or if I should have been meaner from the start (that strategy seems to work for their teacher, whom I really disliked in the beginning of the year), but I get the impression that they physically can't shut up. Each time I would tell them to be quiet, their would be this student with some comment, these two students carrying on their conversation. It is a strange phenomenon with these French kids, but they cannot whisper for the life of them. Honestly. Or maybe they don't have any desire to. Either way, there is a constant rumbling of low voices underscoring every word I say. It is unnerving. Anyway, after screaming at the top of my lungs, in French about three times, for them to shut up...still, the comments. No matter how many times I said, in French, "you have no reason to say a single word right now, be quiet," they just couldn't. What's worse is that the exercises we were doing were all listening, and of course they weren't, and then they'd freak out and talk more when they realized they weren't following the exercise. By the time I'd got through one single exercise, which was four questions and took half an hour, I was so frustrated that I didn't even want to try to continue. The teacher had already come in a few times to shut them up, all unsuccessful. I thought about giving them something to write, or doling out punishments (which the kids always tell me to do). But I can't really punish them aside from sending them out or telling the teacher. So I did one better -- I said, "let's go," and took them all back to their teacher. I told them I was done and they couldn't shut up and we didn't nothing, so I was leaving. I'm sure they were shocked, so good. They'll get new assholes ripped for them and I'll finally be an authority figure.
I'm kind of smug about the whole thing now, but at the time...I immediately went downstairs, dropped my shit, and went into the bathroom to cry. When I get pissed off, I yell. And then when yelling doesn't work, I turn into myself at 7 years old, when kids could look at me wrong and I'd burst into tears. So I crouched against the wall, paper towel in hand to keep the make up stains at bay, and I let it out. On top of being menstrual, school, the impending doom of a meeting tomorrow morning, getting over the flu, exhaustion, all of it -- on top of that, these kids just infuriatingly refusing to shut the fuck up was the proverbial straw. After a couple minutes, I checked myself in the mirror, drank some water, and went back to the trenches to kick of class 5 out of 6. Unfortunately the office helper guy heard me crying in the bathroom and wanted to make sure I was okay. He kept saying, "It's okay?" in English, which was very nice. Unfortunately I may never be able to look him in the eye again. Class #5 went well, but then class #6 was a problem. Half the class was on a trip to the Louvre, so really I only had about 12 students and they are the smartest, most well-behaved 8 year olds on the planet. Truly, they remembered everything they learned last time and immediately picked up what I taught them this time. Unfortunately one little girl, Laurène (haha), was having a little attitude problem. She seems a little ADHD to me but I think she has angst against her parents or something. She told me she wasn't excited for vacation cuz she has to spend the whole time in the school daycare. Man, I feel her. That's where I spent all of my school vacations, too. Anyway, for whatever reason the girls sitting behind her pissed her off so much that she got up and walked out. I found her sitting on the hallway floor crying and I just felt so bad cuz she was me. So I told her to breathe and that if she could just make it through 10 minutes more of class, the day would be over. So she got up and went back. Job well done. I might be a shitty authority figure, but I am an excellent babysitter, and I know how to make kids happy.
Naturally I stewed the whole train ride home, partially because of the kids and partially because I'm practicing my defenses in the case the meeting tomorrow morning gets hostile. For one thing, the job offer I was given said that I would be the assistant English teacher. That's to say I would consult and assist a real teacher. This has not and will never happen. I have ZERO teacher training and I am on my fucking won. I barely have teaching methods to follow. I create all of my lesson plans and make up all of the conversation activities. The job offer also said I'd be teaching a CONVERSATION class, but surprise!, 8 year olds aren't conversational in English. And there were only supposed to be 12 of them at a time. I have anywhere from 24 - 31. Plus I have to commute an hour each direction to get there. These people have FUCKED me so many times over that for them to complain about one thing I've done incorrectly is completely unjustified. And that's what I will say if they try to scold me tomorrow. Stay tuned for that update.
Most of my classes went well today. The one morning class that gives me trouble each time without fail was more or less manageable. The first class after lunch, however, did me in. They're a group of 10/11 year olds and on Thursdays we split them in half (they're 31 all together, which is just insane) and one group stays with me while the other does some crap with their teacher in the computer lab. She coerced me, basically, into this system so that the kids would be more manageable and we could get more done. In fact, I think less gets one. First because I have to adapt my lesson plan to accommodate the fact that each student only attends 3/4 class periods. Next because even with just a door separating them their from their teacher, they are absolutely incorrigible. I don't know if they're just disrepectful or if I should have been meaner from the start (that strategy seems to work for their teacher, whom I really disliked in the beginning of the year), but I get the impression that they physically can't shut up. Each time I would tell them to be quiet, their would be this student with some comment, these two students carrying on their conversation. It is a strange phenomenon with these French kids, but they cannot whisper for the life of them. Honestly. Or maybe they don't have any desire to. Either way, there is a constant rumbling of low voices underscoring every word I say. It is unnerving. Anyway, after screaming at the top of my lungs, in French about three times, for them to shut up...still, the comments. No matter how many times I said, in French, "you have no reason to say a single word right now, be quiet," they just couldn't. What's worse is that the exercises we were doing were all listening, and of course they weren't, and then they'd freak out and talk more when they realized they weren't following the exercise. By the time I'd got through one single exercise, which was four questions and took half an hour, I was so frustrated that I didn't even want to try to continue. The teacher had already come in a few times to shut them up, all unsuccessful. I thought about giving them something to write, or doling out punishments (which the kids always tell me to do). But I can't really punish them aside from sending them out or telling the teacher. So I did one better -- I said, "let's go," and took them all back to their teacher. I told them I was done and they couldn't shut up and we didn't nothing, so I was leaving. I'm sure they were shocked, so good. They'll get new assholes ripped for them and I'll finally be an authority figure.
I'm kind of smug about the whole thing now, but at the time...I immediately went downstairs, dropped my shit, and went into the bathroom to cry. When I get pissed off, I yell. And then when yelling doesn't work, I turn into myself at 7 years old, when kids could look at me wrong and I'd burst into tears. So I crouched against the wall, paper towel in hand to keep the make up stains at bay, and I let it out. On top of being menstrual, school, the impending doom of a meeting tomorrow morning, getting over the flu, exhaustion, all of it -- on top of that, these kids just infuriatingly refusing to shut the fuck up was the proverbial straw. After a couple minutes, I checked myself in the mirror, drank some water, and went back to the trenches to kick of class 5 out of 6. Unfortunately the office helper guy heard me crying in the bathroom and wanted to make sure I was okay. He kept saying, "It's okay?" in English, which was very nice. Unfortunately I may never be able to look him in the eye again. Class #5 went well, but then class #6 was a problem. Half the class was on a trip to the Louvre, so really I only had about 12 students and they are the smartest, most well-behaved 8 year olds on the planet. Truly, they remembered everything they learned last time and immediately picked up what I taught them this time. Unfortunately one little girl, Laurène (haha), was having a little attitude problem. She seems a little ADHD to me but I think she has angst against her parents or something. She told me she wasn't excited for vacation cuz she has to spend the whole time in the school daycare. Man, I feel her. That's where I spent all of my school vacations, too. Anyway, for whatever reason the girls sitting behind her pissed her off so much that she got up and walked out. I found her sitting on the hallway floor crying and I just felt so bad cuz she was me. So I told her to breathe and that if she could just make it through 10 minutes more of class, the day would be over. So she got up and went back. Job well done. I might be a shitty authority figure, but I am an excellent babysitter, and I know how to make kids happy.
Naturally I stewed the whole train ride home, partially because of the kids and partially because I'm practicing my defenses in the case the meeting tomorrow morning gets hostile. For one thing, the job offer I was given said that I would be the assistant English teacher. That's to say I would consult and assist a real teacher. This has not and will never happen. I have ZERO teacher training and I am on my fucking won. I barely have teaching methods to follow. I create all of my lesson plans and make up all of the conversation activities. The job offer also said I'd be teaching a CONVERSATION class, but surprise!, 8 year olds aren't conversational in English. And there were only supposed to be 12 of them at a time. I have anywhere from 24 - 31. Plus I have to commute an hour each direction to get there. These people have FUCKED me so many times over that for them to complain about one thing I've done incorrectly is completely unjustified. And that's what I will say if they try to scold me tomorrow. Stay tuned for that update.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Fuck all
So I've been avoiding my boss for, oh, about a month now. Since I got back from winter break and missed two days of work, she's been hounding me to send in a letter justifying my absence. So I did, but apparently it didn't arrive and instead of telling me that, they kept calling and leaving messages asking for me to call back. There are few things in life that bug me more than voice mails saying, "Call me back." Tell me why the fuck you're calling me, especially if you don't call everyday just to say hi. So anyway, last week she started calling and asking that I come in for a meeting. So I emailed her about it, and she called again to set something up. First of all, until this point, she had always just emailed me. So I honestly tried to call this morning, but after all of the chats with Italian phones last week, I am out of minutes. And what's even better, I can't use my new debit card to recharge my phone because I used my old one to do it. I'm not sure why that matters but okay. So I was forced to email her. She did email me back, asking me to come to her office 9 am Friday morning. What a bitch. First of all, I have to wake my ass up at like 7:30 on my day off. Second, she's not going to pick me up at the train station, I have to take the damn bus. Yes, I know that this is partly my fault for avoiding her phone calls, but fuck. I haven't technically done anything wrong.
So that was my morning. Then it was off to class, where I made new Italian, Mexican, and Chinese friends. Of course the Mexican guy speaks better English than French, so it should be interesting trying not to speak English with him. I've felt plenty of privileged guilt in my life, from being white, being upper-middle class, whatever. But the fact that I was lucky enough to be born an English-speaker is now bothering me. I'm taking a translation class and so far we've done mostly French to English translation, so of course I have all of the vocabulary and expressions and such necessary to translate well. And the teacher figured out today that I'm an "anglophone," so the class became sort of an A and B conversation between the two of us. I felt terrible and I tried to keep my mouth shut. I could feel the French kids wondering what the hell I was doing there if I already spoke English. We'll see how it goes when we're doing English to French translation. I will suck. In the meantime, I'll be the three-headed alien that everyone stares at.
So that was my morning. Then it was off to class, where I made new Italian, Mexican, and Chinese friends. Of course the Mexican guy speaks better English than French, so it should be interesting trying not to speak English with him. I've felt plenty of privileged guilt in my life, from being white, being upper-middle class, whatever. But the fact that I was lucky enough to be born an English-speaker is now bothering me. I'm taking a translation class and so far we've done mostly French to English translation, so of course I have all of the vocabulary and expressions and such necessary to translate well. And the teacher figured out today that I'm an "anglophone," so the class became sort of an A and B conversation between the two of us. I felt terrible and I tried to keep my mouth shut. I could feel the French kids wondering what the hell I was doing there if I already spoke English. We'll see how it goes when we're doing English to French translation. I will suck. In the meantime, I'll be the three-headed alien that everyone stares at.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Du coque à l'âne
Today was one of those days that started out just horribly and ended up, well, not half bad. But of course the wicked mood I was in earlier was totally of my own design. Being sick and stress with classes and work and all that have combined to put me in a real funk, one of very few I've had since I've been here. I've gone so far as to wish I was home, but really, what does that even mean? Every time that Paris has gotten hard, and I've thought, "What if I was in San Francisco? What if I was in San Diego?", I've always realized right away that no surroundings or even people would make me feel better. It's just a state of mind. So as the French would say, "Ben, enfin bon." This too shall pass.
So anyway, today I woke up at 8:30 (don't freak out, I went to bed at 10:30), with the intention to hit the gym before class at noon. Well, this will be my official itinerary starting next week, because this morning I did my homework instead. Good excuse, at least. And I used the extra time to economize and straighten my hair. So productive. Anyway, class was fine. It was followed by a brisk walk home where I packed a snack and a sandwich for dinner, because I won't be getting home until about 8:15 on Tuesday nights from now on. I left right away to get to campus, where I crashed an American civilization class and the professor added me, no questions asked. It's kind of redundant (and in English), but I am able to sacrifice the 2 credits and anyway I need them to have a full course load for the semester. Plus, why not learn about the founding of America from a French woman speaking in a very heavy British accent. But also making very French facial expressions. I nearly laughed out loud. What will be hard is not looking like a giant brown-noser because I already know the subject and the language is my first. Ohhh well. After tha class I pretty much ran across campus to get to my French civilization class. Of course. American, then French civilization. It was kind of boring in that the professor gave us a document then read and explained it a bit for 2 hours, but oh well. I love her anyway.
Tomorrow my earliest class is 1, and I'm not going to work out beforehand, but I think I'm going to get up early anyway to do my homework. Ugh, getting up before 10 am is just not for me.
So anyway, today I woke up at 8:30 (don't freak out, I went to bed at 10:30), with the intention to hit the gym before class at noon. Well, this will be my official itinerary starting next week, because this morning I did my homework instead. Good excuse, at least. And I used the extra time to economize and straighten my hair. So productive. Anyway, class was fine. It was followed by a brisk walk home where I packed a snack and a sandwich for dinner, because I won't be getting home until about 8:15 on Tuesday nights from now on. I left right away to get to campus, where I crashed an American civilization class and the professor added me, no questions asked. It's kind of redundant (and in English), but I am able to sacrifice the 2 credits and anyway I need them to have a full course load for the semester. Plus, why not learn about the founding of America from a French woman speaking in a very heavy British accent. But also making very French facial expressions. I nearly laughed out loud. What will be hard is not looking like a giant brown-noser because I already know the subject and the language is my first. Ohhh well. After tha class I pretty much ran across campus to get to my French civilization class. Of course. American, then French civilization. It was kind of boring in that the professor gave us a document then read and explained it a bit for 2 hours, but oh well. I love her anyway.
Tomorrow my earliest class is 1, and I'm not going to work out beforehand, but I think I'm going to get up early anyway to do my homework. Ugh, getting up before 10 am is just not for me.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A week in review
I don't even know where this last week went. I guess it got away from me about 10 am Saturday morning, when I went to Porte Maillot to pick up Lauren and company from the Beauvais shuttle. After a dramatic greeting involving slow motion running across a parking lot, dropping all belongings and flinging ourselves into each other's arms, we gathered everyone together and went down into the metro. First order of business, tickets. Well in front of us was this family who were not counting on the coins-only ticket machine and were getting frustrated. The mother turned and asked me if I could help, so I gladly stepped up. She asked me where I was from, and of course I said I was American (this exchange was all in English). There is still some debate as to whether she replied "Oh, Americans are scary," or "Oh, Americans are skilled." Anyway, I dialed in the right ticket type and number for her, but all she had was bills. I asked if she had a debit card and she pulled one out, but it didn't have the microchip. I know they have them in England and I just assumed all European countries do, but maybe they don't? Anyway, after I told her that without change or a debit card I couldn't help her, she unceremoniously said, "American's are very helpful." I was livid. Keeping my composure the best I could, I said, "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do to help you." At this point her husband had gone up to get change in the mall. So fuck you, you inept bitch. It's not anyone else's job to save you.
After that exciting start to the week, I navigated them to their hotel in the 11th, checked in, and immediately found some kebaps. Cuz what's Paris without a kebap, really? Then we went over to Mouffetard so they could see my miniscule living space and then get some pastries at Le Rétrodor, a very pretty bakery downstairs that is too expensive and actually has bitchy staff, I don't know why I go there. We sat down in a cafe to have some coffee but immediately got up because the Romans were horrified by the prices. Apparently in Rome you can go into a bar and get a cappucino and a pain au chocolat for like 1 euro. They were not feeling the 4.50 cafe creme. Can't blame them, though. After taking them (and getting a tiny bit lost) to FNAC to pick up concert tickets, I sent them on their way. On Sunday we were to Disneyland, which was fabulous of course. We had some hamburgers in Frontierland for lunch, rode the bomb ass and highly superior Space Mountain, looked for princess crowns but to no avail. What Disneyland Paris really needs though are Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, an Indiana Jones that isn't just a roller coaster, and some mother-fucking DOLE WHIP.
Monday I worked like usually, then went up the Eiffel Tower with Mike at Lauren at about 10 pm. Let me tell you, the light show is NOT impressive when you are standing on the tower. And after we went to St. Andre des Arts to get some crepes, followed by a whack ass encounter with the night buses. After getting them on their bus, I was faced with the choice of a 25 minute walk home or waiting for a bus for 20 minutes and then about a 5 minute ride home. I waited, even though I felt like a dumbass. Anyway, Tuesday morning I got up and had my meeting with Rosalie, which went well as always. My grand total of grades last semester comes to two A's, an A-, and a B+. Hollerrrrr. The bad news is that I still need to add a class this semester, because for some reason every class I'm taking is 2 credits. After the meeting I speed-walked to Censier and was only 5 minutes late for History of the French. I was a little worried about it because Keisha hated it so much, but I like the professor and aside from the marked increase in work compared to the MICEFA classes I took last week, I'm optimistic. That afternoon Lauren and I went up to Sacre Coeur, where we broke rules cuz we're bad asses. We also hit up Pigalle, then went back to my place to wait for Mike. We wanted to go somewhere to get fancy dessert (something much easier done in America), but I took a chance on Cafe Delmas and we ended up eating the most amazing chocolate lava cake in, perhaps, all of existence. It was so good we didn't mind the mouse running around the floor.
Wednesday was when I started to feel sick. I spent the morning on the Champs-Elysées and Rue de Rivoli with Lauren, then went to my translation class in the afternoon. I'm a little intimidated because everyone is French, but the professor is pretty nice and I was able to pick up everything she said. Apparently my French professors really are slowing it down for the non-native speakers. Anyway, it's like figuring out a puzzle. We translated an English newspaper article into French which was tough for me, but she said we'll mostly be translating French into English, which seems much easier. What struck me is that this is a fourth semester Anglo-American studies class, and it's taught completely in French. And the other classes I've seen on the planning boards all have French titles. Could they really be teaching American civilization classes in French? That seems very counterintuitive.
Thursday, man Thursday sucked. The cold-like symptoms had taken hold, and then the immense fatigue set in. I was like a zombie the whole day, with droopy eyelids in the teacher's lounge. The teachers kept saying that I was too crazy and going to bed too late. I somehow managed to crawl home and just went to bed that night, which was lame because I wanted to go out with Lauren one last time before she left. In any case, they all came over Friday morning to dump their luggage after check out. We went out for one last kebap, then hit up a creperie and a bakery. All the important elements of Paris. Everyone bought macaron-ish things. I got this BOMB ass thing that was a heart-shaped coffee macaron, with coffee creme, some coffee foam thing, and a crunchy biscuit thing that tasted like nutella, all sandwiched in there with a heart-shaped chocolate on top. It was 4.20 but I don't even care, it was that good. And Lauren, Mike, and their friends bought me a box of coffee macarons to thank me for showing them around. Lovely. What's not lovely is that after they left, I just laid around feeling yucky.
I thought Friday was bad, but when I woke up on Saturday, I thought I was dying. Ironically, my stuffy nose and chest were almost gone, but my whole body just felt like a tank was laying on top of me or something. I barely managed to brush my teeth, drink some tea, and eat some cereal before taking a 7 hour nap. Then I woke up at had some soup and watched Queer as Folk. By about 8 pm last night, I was feeling much better, and this morning I am about 80% better. I'm even going to hit the gym, since nothing will make me feel better. I guess it's good that I had one day of absolute misery instead of spreading it out over this week. But man, I can't even believe how terrible I felt. I kept thinking about at what point I would call a doctor, the fact that I couldn't find my cell phone, and that I haven't ordered a new health insurance card since getting my wallet jacked in London. And I was wondering if I had a fever, how high it was, and why I'm an idiot and I don't own a thermometer. It was also the first time since I've been here that I really, really wished I was at home. Even though I don't really have a home anymore, but I just wanted my mom to bring me cherry 7-up and rent movies at Blockbuster for me.
Anyway, I'm feeling much better so I'm trying to get some stuff done. I have some translation homework to do, and some History of France stuff as well but I don't think I can buy a newspaper today. I finally emailed my boss to apologize for ignoring her phone calls, I found my cell phone, and I'm going to sort through some other business today. What I really want is for freaking SFSU to post the summer school schedule so I can figure it out, tell my mom when the fee deadline is, and let my boss at home know when I'll be available this summer. In a little less than four months I'll be back in San Francisco and essentially I'll be starting over again. Mom has a new house, I'll need a new apartment, I'll have to re-integrate myself into the journalism track and really knuckle down in order to find internships and have some sort of job prospect when I graduate. Ugh now I'm nauseated.
After that exciting start to the week, I navigated them to their hotel in the 11th, checked in, and immediately found some kebaps. Cuz what's Paris without a kebap, really? Then we went over to Mouffetard so they could see my miniscule living space and then get some pastries at Le Rétrodor, a very pretty bakery downstairs that is too expensive and actually has bitchy staff, I don't know why I go there. We sat down in a cafe to have some coffee but immediately got up because the Romans were horrified by the prices. Apparently in Rome you can go into a bar and get a cappucino and a pain au chocolat for like 1 euro. They were not feeling the 4.50 cafe creme. Can't blame them, though. After taking them (and getting a tiny bit lost) to FNAC to pick up concert tickets, I sent them on their way. On Sunday we were to Disneyland, which was fabulous of course. We had some hamburgers in Frontierland for lunch, rode the bomb ass and highly superior Space Mountain, looked for princess crowns but to no avail. What Disneyland Paris really needs though are Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, an Indiana Jones that isn't just a roller coaster, and some mother-fucking DOLE WHIP.
Monday I worked like usually, then went up the Eiffel Tower with Mike at Lauren at about 10 pm. Let me tell you, the light show is NOT impressive when you are standing on the tower. And after we went to St. Andre des Arts to get some crepes, followed by a whack ass encounter with the night buses. After getting them on their bus, I was faced with the choice of a 25 minute walk home or waiting for a bus for 20 minutes and then about a 5 minute ride home. I waited, even though I felt like a dumbass. Anyway, Tuesday morning I got up and had my meeting with Rosalie, which went well as always. My grand total of grades last semester comes to two A's, an A-, and a B+. Hollerrrrr. The bad news is that I still need to add a class this semester, because for some reason every class I'm taking is 2 credits. After the meeting I speed-walked to Censier and was only 5 minutes late for History of the French. I was a little worried about it because Keisha hated it so much, but I like the professor and aside from the marked increase in work compared to the MICEFA classes I took last week, I'm optimistic. That afternoon Lauren and I went up to Sacre Coeur, where we broke rules cuz we're bad asses. We also hit up Pigalle, then went back to my place to wait for Mike. We wanted to go somewhere to get fancy dessert (something much easier done in America), but I took a chance on Cafe Delmas and we ended up eating the most amazing chocolate lava cake in, perhaps, all of existence. It was so good we didn't mind the mouse running around the floor.
Wednesday was when I started to feel sick. I spent the morning on the Champs-Elysées and Rue de Rivoli with Lauren, then went to my translation class in the afternoon. I'm a little intimidated because everyone is French, but the professor is pretty nice and I was able to pick up everything she said. Apparently my French professors really are slowing it down for the non-native speakers. Anyway, it's like figuring out a puzzle. We translated an English newspaper article into French which was tough for me, but she said we'll mostly be translating French into English, which seems much easier. What struck me is that this is a fourth semester Anglo-American studies class, and it's taught completely in French. And the other classes I've seen on the planning boards all have French titles. Could they really be teaching American civilization classes in French? That seems very counterintuitive.
Thursday, man Thursday sucked. The cold-like symptoms had taken hold, and then the immense fatigue set in. I was like a zombie the whole day, with droopy eyelids in the teacher's lounge. The teachers kept saying that I was too crazy and going to bed too late. I somehow managed to crawl home and just went to bed that night, which was lame because I wanted to go out with Lauren one last time before she left. In any case, they all came over Friday morning to dump their luggage after check out. We went out for one last kebap, then hit up a creperie and a bakery. All the important elements of Paris. Everyone bought macaron-ish things. I got this BOMB ass thing that was a heart-shaped coffee macaron, with coffee creme, some coffee foam thing, and a crunchy biscuit thing that tasted like nutella, all sandwiched in there with a heart-shaped chocolate on top. It was 4.20 but I don't even care, it was that good. And Lauren, Mike, and their friends bought me a box of coffee macarons to thank me for showing them around. Lovely. What's not lovely is that after they left, I just laid around feeling yucky.
I thought Friday was bad, but when I woke up on Saturday, I thought I was dying. Ironically, my stuffy nose and chest were almost gone, but my whole body just felt like a tank was laying on top of me or something. I barely managed to brush my teeth, drink some tea, and eat some cereal before taking a 7 hour nap. Then I woke up at had some soup and watched Queer as Folk. By about 8 pm last night, I was feeling much better, and this morning I am about 80% better. I'm even going to hit the gym, since nothing will make me feel better. I guess it's good that I had one day of absolute misery instead of spreading it out over this week. But man, I can't even believe how terrible I felt. I kept thinking about at what point I would call a doctor, the fact that I couldn't find my cell phone, and that I haven't ordered a new health insurance card since getting my wallet jacked in London. And I was wondering if I had a fever, how high it was, and why I'm an idiot and I don't own a thermometer. It was also the first time since I've been here that I really, really wished I was at home. Even though I don't really have a home anymore, but I just wanted my mom to bring me cherry 7-up and rent movies at Blockbuster for me.
Anyway, I'm feeling much better so I'm trying to get some stuff done. I have some translation homework to do, and some History of France stuff as well but I don't think I can buy a newspaper today. I finally emailed my boss to apologize for ignoring her phone calls, I found my cell phone, and I'm going to sort through some other business today. What I really want is for freaking SFSU to post the summer school schedule so I can figure it out, tell my mom when the fee deadline is, and let my boss at home know when I'll be available this summer. In a little less than four months I'll be back in San Francisco and essentially I'll be starting over again. Mom has a new house, I'll need a new apartment, I'll have to re-integrate myself into the journalism track and really knuckle down in order to find internships and have some sort of job prospect when I graduate. Ugh now I'm nauseated.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Ride the wave
Well, yesterday was only mildly successful in terms of class registration. The French university system is just a joke. I think I'm going to write a letter to Sarko, congratulate him on his wedding, commend him for telling the metro drivers that no, 35 is a ridiculous age to retire -- and then ask him to issue some kind of executive order mandating that the universities make course catalogues and put them online, then instate online registration. I don't want to say the French are lazy, but they kind of are. Ok, maybe lazy is not the write word. Grossly inefficient. Yeah that's it.
Anyway, first I went to the international student office to ask for a new ID. It's been over a month since it was stolen but I too am lazy and honestly I don't have much use for the thing. Anyway, naturally it was a completely different process than before. Keisha lost her wallet a while back and when she went in, she asked for a new one and got it in 15 minutes. This time, the douche bag made a request for me, then told me to bring 10 euros to the bursar's office to pick it up. What the fuck, man. Then I went over to the FETE building to find a class schedule. Nothing was posted outside the office, oooooooobviously, but I did see my grades. I got a fucking 17 in oral. Nanterre can suck it, I knew they placed me too low. And a 13.5 in written, which isn't outstanding, but rather good considering the highest grade in the class was a 14.5 and only two people got that even. So I'm definitely satisfied. Then next I went back downstairs to look at all of the bulletin boards and finally found the FETE schedule, which of course has like no classes I can take. All the level 3 classes are on Monday and Thursday, so I think I might just forgo oral altogether this semester. This is a level two written at 8:30 on Wednesday morning (fuuuuuuck) but I need the credit and probably the practice too. And I'm taking history of France and the French with MICEFA. So that leaves me 6 more credits to scrounge up. I might take a lit class on Friday (fuuuuuuck again) and after some effort at the English department I found a translation class. We'll see. I emailed MICEFA with my woes and they said to ask the international office where to find classes. I need to email the French department head at home as well. If all else fails, I will take a frickin' American civilization class just for the credit, even if it doesn't count toward any degree. Sad. Maybe I can get GE credit for it? I do need to take some sort of American government/politics class.
Today was a looooong ass day. The kids are killing me right now, I think they're getting spring fever. It feels like spring. This morning the ground was frozen in Marly and it was cold as a mother fucker, but when I was going home at 4:30 it was 16 degrees outside. Anyway, I've been doing a lot of screaming in class lately. This morning I had some sort of psychic revelation and I decided to take a later train cuz I didn't have any work to do before class. I got to St. Lazare at 7:30 and the 7:18 train that I usually take hadn't even left yet. So I hopped on and patted myself on the back for being clairvoyant. But then, since there were two trains nose to ass in the same direction, they made us get off at Garches and wait for the 7:33 train. So I frooooooze for like 10 minutes. So after a long day I was overjoyed that for the first time in mooooonths, I didn't have to go to class on Thursday night. Glory hallelujah. And even better, when I got home there was a package slip (Ugg boots or flat iron -- the suspense is killing me) and a letter from the family I worked for in San Francisco. I sent them a card and some chocolate Santas for Christmas, partially because I adore them, and partially as a shrewd business move because I really want my job back in June. Anyway, the letter was great. All about how the boys are good and they say that they miss me after their new babysitter leaves (haaaaahahaha). And the dad was offered a spot on the SF planning commission but he turned it down and he's waiting until the boys get older to run for public office again. And the mom (she's a CBS reporter) is trying to get out of journalism and into production. And she told me she's voting for Obama. For some reason, her telling me that just felt really intimate and familiar. Plus I'm not surprised cuz her husband is like Barack's doppelganger. Anyway, I'll definitely be sending them birthday presents and hanging up their pictures on my wall.
Anyway, first I went to the international student office to ask for a new ID. It's been over a month since it was stolen but I too am lazy and honestly I don't have much use for the thing. Anyway, naturally it was a completely different process than before. Keisha lost her wallet a while back and when she went in, she asked for a new one and got it in 15 minutes. This time, the douche bag made a request for me, then told me to bring 10 euros to the bursar's office to pick it up. What the fuck, man. Then I went over to the FETE building to find a class schedule. Nothing was posted outside the office, oooooooobviously, but I did see my grades. I got a fucking 17 in oral. Nanterre can suck it, I knew they placed me too low. And a 13.5 in written, which isn't outstanding, but rather good considering the highest grade in the class was a 14.5 and only two people got that even. So I'm definitely satisfied. Then next I went back downstairs to look at all of the bulletin boards and finally found the FETE schedule, which of course has like no classes I can take. All the level 3 classes are on Monday and Thursday, so I think I might just forgo oral altogether this semester. This is a level two written at 8:30 on Wednesday morning (fuuuuuuck) but I need the credit and probably the practice too. And I'm taking history of France and the French with MICEFA. So that leaves me 6 more credits to scrounge up. I might take a lit class on Friday (fuuuuuuck again) and after some effort at the English department I found a translation class. We'll see. I emailed MICEFA with my woes and they said to ask the international office where to find classes. I need to email the French department head at home as well. If all else fails, I will take a frickin' American civilization class just for the credit, even if it doesn't count toward any degree. Sad. Maybe I can get GE credit for it? I do need to take some sort of American government/politics class.
Today was a looooong ass day. The kids are killing me right now, I think they're getting spring fever. It feels like spring. This morning the ground was frozen in Marly and it was cold as a mother fucker, but when I was going home at 4:30 it was 16 degrees outside. Anyway, I've been doing a lot of screaming in class lately. This morning I had some sort of psychic revelation and I decided to take a later train cuz I didn't have any work to do before class. I got to St. Lazare at 7:30 and the 7:18 train that I usually take hadn't even left yet. So I hopped on and patted myself on the back for being clairvoyant. But then, since there were two trains nose to ass in the same direction, they made us get off at Garches and wait for the 7:33 train. So I frooooooze for like 10 minutes. So after a long day I was overjoyed that for the first time in mooooonths, I didn't have to go to class on Thursday night. Glory hallelujah. And even better, when I got home there was a package slip (Ugg boots or flat iron -- the suspense is killing me) and a letter from the family I worked for in San Francisco. I sent them a card and some chocolate Santas for Christmas, partially because I adore them, and partially as a shrewd business move because I really want my job back in June. Anyway, the letter was great. All about how the boys are good and they say that they miss me after their new babysitter leaves (haaaaahahaha). And the dad was offered a spot on the SF planning commission but he turned it down and he's waiting until the boys get older to run for public office again. And the mom (she's a CBS reporter) is trying to get out of journalism and into production. And she told me she's voting for Obama. For some reason, her telling me that just felt really intimate and familiar. Plus I'm not surprised cuz her husband is like Barack's doppelganger. Anyway, I'll definitely be sending them birthday presents and hanging up their pictures on my wall.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Who needs school?
It's Super Tuesday, kids. All of these hours I've wasted watching debates (even Republican ones, because sometimes, you just want to yell at the computer screen and freak out your neighbors) are coming down to right now. I don't know exactly how this works, but apparently there is a "global primary" and I can go vote at the American Church with my passport. I was all set to send in my absentee ballot, and I might still, but this sounds interesting. Anyway, you heard it here first -- I'm voting for Hillary. Honestly, there is no bad choice, I'll be happy with either, but I have to go with my gut.
Anyway, vacation is a little too fun, I think. Work on Monday, two free days, work on Thursday, three free days. This is the life. Unfortunately it will all come to screeching halt when I sign up for classes on Friday and then start MICEFA class on Tuesday. I signed up for this class because it was supposed to be at Censier, but apparently it has moved to some other Paris 3 campus far, far away. Well fucking balls, good thing it doesn't start until 12:30 in the afternoon. Also exciting this weekend is one Miss Lauren Kunin arriving on Saturday. And Disneyland on Sunday, I think it was. Working on Mondays is such a buzzkill, really.
Not a whole lot else to report, really. I feel like this semester is going to be very full of excitement. Lauren will be here next week, then a couple more weeks and Matt and Joe will *hopefully* be here. The apartment search continues and I'm sending new Craig's list postings pretty much every day. But having them here for a month would just exceed immense (harhar). And then while they're here, my brother comes for 5 days, then a couple more weeks and I'm in Rome for four days at Lauren's. I'm extra excited for Rome because between the 50 euro flights and the free accommodation, that trip is shaping up nicely. Speaking of nice, the weekend after Rome is tentatively Nice, then a couple weeks after that, after some schedule tweaking, GREECE. Honestly, Greece is the one place I've been dying to visit for the past couple years. After Paris, it was number two on a very short list of places I must see before I die. Naturally my travel lust has gotten away from me a bit and I've got all these links bookmarked with ferries and hostels and different islands and such. We'll see how it all gets pulled together. And then I think Lauren is going to come live at chez moi for a couple weeks. And work will be over and school will be winding down. I suppose it's best to keep things at a fever pitch until the very end.
Anyway, vacation is a little too fun, I think. Work on Monday, two free days, work on Thursday, three free days. This is the life. Unfortunately it will all come to screeching halt when I sign up for classes on Friday and then start MICEFA class on Tuesday. I signed up for this class because it was supposed to be at Censier, but apparently it has moved to some other Paris 3 campus far, far away. Well fucking balls, good thing it doesn't start until 12:30 in the afternoon. Also exciting this weekend is one Miss Lauren Kunin arriving on Saturday. And Disneyland on Sunday, I think it was. Working on Mondays is such a buzzkill, really.
Not a whole lot else to report, really. I feel like this semester is going to be very full of excitement. Lauren will be here next week, then a couple more weeks and Matt and Joe will *hopefully* be here. The apartment search continues and I'm sending new Craig's list postings pretty much every day. But having them here for a month would just exceed immense (harhar). And then while they're here, my brother comes for 5 days, then a couple more weeks and I'm in Rome for four days at Lauren's. I'm extra excited for Rome because between the 50 euro flights and the free accommodation, that trip is shaping up nicely. Speaking of nice, the weekend after Rome is tentatively Nice, then a couple weeks after that, after some schedule tweaking, GREECE. Honestly, Greece is the one place I've been dying to visit for the past couple years. After Paris, it was number two on a very short list of places I must see before I die. Naturally my travel lust has gotten away from me a bit and I've got all these links bookmarked with ferries and hostels and different islands and such. We'll see how it all gets pulled together. And then I think Lauren is going to come live at chez moi for a couple weeks. And work will be over and school will be winding down. I suppose it's best to keep things at a fever pitch until the very end.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Little victories
You know what's frustrating? It's frustrating when you have money, the whole world is on sale, and still you can't find anything you really like. Well, that's a lie, and did find two pairs of boots that I like, but at 95 and 132 euros, I just can't bring myself to buy them. And then there's the existential dilemma of buying essentially the same pair of knee-high leather boots that everyone in Paris has. I like them, it's true, I really do. And I'm really not someone who cares about using clothes to be unique, but at some point the saturation starts getting a little annoying. And there's the fact that I have a pair of knee-high suede boots and tall Uggs. Oh well. That mall trip was brightened by a trip to Champion, though. Oh, Champion, my heart. Every time I go there, I feel like I'm at home again. And every time I go, I find something so completely genial (har) that I love it more. For instance, last Saturday I found turkey sausage and turkey burgers. At home I am obsessed with Trader Joe's basil and garlic sausage and Jennie-O turkey burgers. And there they were at Champion (more or less). And I love to buy cheap pre-bagged baking mixes and make cupcakes or cookies or something. Well the other day at Champion I found pre-made, pre-mixed, full-on batter. Literally all I have to do is dump the bag into the pan and put it in the oven. Awesome.
Yesterday morning I saw the sunrise for the first time. On the train, around 7:30 am. I was watching the Eiffel Tower and usual and amazingly enough, there was some red and yellow on the horizon and I could see the whole tower. Weee the time is changing finally. Northern winters are balls and I can't wait for longer days.
Yesterday evening I had my very last Franco-American relations class, and we got all of our essays and homework back. I got an A on my final, and the comments at the top said: "Très bien. Un devoir très nuancé et précis." Three and a half pages of brilliance. Honestly, I can't take credit for all of it. Essay-writing is some sort of genetic talent I have, apparently in any language. So all in all, I think I'm looking at some good grades this semester. All A's in Franco-American, all A's in history of Paris, a 16 in oral expression, and I would think no less than a B in written (no idea how I did on my final). Aaaaand on the school front, my history of France class just got changed to Tuesday afternoons instead of Friday mornings. Glory hallelujah. Hopefully I can figure out the other three classes I need to take so that I can A. sleep, B. go to the gym, and C. not have class on Friday.
Yesterday morning I saw the sunrise for the first time. On the train, around 7:30 am. I was watching the Eiffel Tower and usual and amazingly enough, there was some red and yellow on the horizon and I could see the whole tower. Weee the time is changing finally. Northern winters are balls and I can't wait for longer days.
Yesterday evening I had my very last Franco-American relations class, and we got all of our essays and homework back. I got an A on my final, and the comments at the top said: "Très bien. Un devoir très nuancé et précis." Three and a half pages of brilliance. Honestly, I can't take credit for all of it. Essay-writing is some sort of genetic talent I have, apparently in any language. So all in all, I think I'm looking at some good grades this semester. All A's in Franco-American, all A's in history of Paris, a 16 in oral expression, and I would think no less than a B in written (no idea how I did on my final). Aaaaand on the school front, my history of France class just got changed to Tuesday afternoons instead of Friday mornings. Glory hallelujah. Hopefully I can figure out the other three classes I need to take so that I can A. sleep, B. go to the gym, and C. not have class on Friday.
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