A taunting of ravens to you, sir
Huh! Haven't updated this in months. Well, its 4.33 am, I'm supposed to be studying, so clearly...LJ time!
I've been reading my previous entries and they make me sound like I'm some kind of french-obsessed journalism-hating lesbian.I can't help it that french is, on most days, awesome (though, god, there are a few of retards in my class that make me want to kill myself. SHUT THE FUCK UP BLONDIE. NOBODY CARES WHAT YOU THINK. SHUT UP. And I'm still gobsmacked at the whole 'Yeh Australia is all sunshine lolipops and rainbows!' sentiment held by Toorak/Prahran/South Yarra contingent. Of course you've never been discriminted against you white upper class mongrels). And I can't help that Alanis is still amazing. I want to drown in her songs. They hit me deep, man (I am such a 90's wanker).
I've reconsidered the whole Journalism issue. I think I do want to be a journalist after all. For one thing, I've got the investigative journalism *coughstalkertendenciescough* down pat. Also, my International jrn tutor says I'd be pretty damn good at it. I'm not sure I believe her, but I think I'd be cheating myself if I didn't at least give it a shot. I really like the idea of being an international journalist actually. Sri Lanka, Afganistan, East Timor, here I come. Besides, my love of teaching is starting to wane. This is mostly due to my bloody, bloody students who drive me up the wall. For gods sake, I'm here to teach you, not write your damned essays for you. But I can always revert back to it if my grand plan of reporting international issues fails.
My birthday in three days. Twenty years old. Jeez I'm getting old. I wonder what the ciggarette laws are in France? Do I have to be twenty one to buy them? Can I smoke anywhere?
Sigh.
France, baby, come December, we're gunna get wild.