Like resident evil, only diffrent.
J’ai fini mes examens aujourd’hui. Les examens était trois heures. Je ne sais pas si je passe les examens, mais je saura dans juin.
…
I have finished my exams today. The exams were three hours. I don’t know if I pass the exams, but I find out in June.
It’s weird. I feel like I should be studying French right now even though my classes are over.
In celebration, I saw Marie Antoinette. It was crap. I mean, really, really crap. I’m really rather amazed.
My classes end this week. Today even. My grammar prof was sick last week so she’s having us meet tomorrow morning to make up a class. I was looking forward to sleeping in, but class is actually an OK idea. I could use some extra forced study time.
My phonetics class ended today, however. I got a 15 out of 20 for the semester. I don’t know exactly how that translates in the US. I was sorta bummed that I didn’t get a higher grade but I have serious trouble with my vowels.
Serious trouble. I still have a hard time hearing the difference between anything. Un? Une? I can actually hear the difference, but I can’t actually remember which sound is which. Seriously. I have issues.
I have three finals to take on Friday and Saturday. Friday is an oral exam. I’m not sure what will be involved. Will have have to have a tiny conversation? Read a paragraph? Repeat phrases? Change sentences from singular to plural or masculine to feminine? No idea.
On Saturday I’m taking a written grammar test and a dictation test in a building across town that I haven’t been to before. That should be amusing. My seat number is 249. I think this may mean that there will be at least 248 other people taking the test with me. I can’t imagine that there are really 250 other French 1 students taking classes, though. Should be fun.
The dictation and grammar exams will both be worth 20 points. A combined passing grade for the two of them is a 20 out of 40. I’ve done pretty well on the written test so far so I *think* that if I manage to get just a few points on my dictation, I should pass. Maybe.
I’m tried. I want to hang out on a beach somewhere. Maybe next week.
In other French news, I picked up a copy of Vogue Paris this morning. Everyday French fashion is often very nice if a little dull and I’m really rather surprised at how ugly every single thing in the magazine is. What the fuck? Also, I can understand a good percentage of the little blurbs reviewing art and books, which is gratifying. I didn’t understand the editor’s note, however. Why you gotta be so fancy talky, Editor of Vogue?
Also, I went looking for books in easy French yesterday. There editions with little dictionaries and footnotes in them to help the marginally-literal like myself out. It turns out that not only can I manage 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, I can also probably handle The 3 Musketeers and some Victor Hugo. And by “probably” I mean “with a lot of help from a dictionary and 501 French Verbs”.
I have been thinking about trying to continue to take French in the fall even though I won’t be in France. I dunno, though. I’m grumpy right now and stora feeling that I suck at this. I mean, sure, I can read OK, but I can barely manage to order food in a restaurant. That’s just sad, people.
Chère propriétaires des chiens,
Je sais que vous ne ramassez pas le merde de votre chien. Je comprend – il est un peu puant. Le merde dans le rue est tradition. C’est bien.
Mais, quand vous promenez votre chien, marchez dans un quarter que les balayeurs verront le merde de votre chien. Parce qu’il y a un petit trottoir dans un chemin pour les bicyclettes que je préfère mettre mon pied quand j’attends un feu. Il a eu un petite pile de merde pour trois jours. Je ne l’aime pas.
Merci!
BisBis,
.cola.
….
I know that you do not pick up your dog’s shit. I understand – it’s a little smelly. The shit on the street is traditional. It’s ok.
But, when you walk your dog, walk in a quarter that the street sweepers will see your dog’s shit. Because there’s a little curb in the bike lane that I prefer to put my foot on when I wait for a light. It has had a small pile of shit for three days. I do not like it.
Thanks!
KissKiss,
.cola.
Dear Fashion Industry,
Ok. You’ve got me. Are you happy now?
I can’t wear heels. They hurt my feet and legs. I feel like I’m about to fall over at any moment the whole time I have a pair on. I probably look like I’m going to fall over any minute while I’m wearing them, which is even worse. I have never worn a pair of heels enough to justify the price tag. Ever. Not even the super cheap ones you can get at Payless.
And yet.
I keep walking by shoe stores, peaking into the windows and finding paris of totally useless shoes to be extremely cute.
Why are you doing this to me? How did you do this to me? Is it a problem of repeated sighting of heels on other women? Is it the Vogue? Because I can stop reading fashion magazines. I’ll so it. Just watch me.
Ok. I’m totally lying.
But I am not buying a pari of your goddamn adorable heels, not matter how well they’re go with those equally useless dresses I have hanging in my closet. You watch me.
And by the way, where were you last summer when I searched for weeks for a cute pair of tan heels to go with the dress I wore to the Lagoy nuptuals? Why must you wait until now to spring cute shoes on me when I don’t even have an excuse to buy them? It’s too little too late, fashion industry.
Fuck you.
Love,
.cola.