England makes you tired
Ever since I've gotten back from that trip to England (which was two weeks ago now), I've been really tired. Maybe I'm hitting that rut where being in a different country is just tiring. Or maybe I just got sick from walking around in all that rain and it never wore off.
I actually have work due next week and the week after. I have my first two commentaire composees to hand in. It's intimidating to hand in work that you know will not be anywhere as good as all of the other students just because you can't actually speak the language. So what, exactly, is a commentaire composee? They give you a passage from the work you're reading, and you have to analyze the passage. Sounds simple, right? It would be if I could fully understand the meaning of the passage...
Last weekend was psycho. It was two APA girls' 21st birthdays. Bowling party and crazy house party. Plus it was Magali, one of my french cousins' 25th birthday. So lots of fun. And then Mary Page Huckabee decided, on a whim, to cross la manche (she was spending her spring break in London) and pay me a visit. Good thing my host mom is cool, and let her stay over with about a 12 hour notice. GEEZ, MARY! lolz.
I recently, as in about 10 minutes ago while I was procrastinating from actually doing these commentaire composees, realized that I do have wireless internet. I just assumed I didn't because no one ever told me about it. But I just thought about how this is the first time my host mom has had a computer, and she probably doesn't even know what she has. So I went over to the computer, and I looked at the network box, and there was a little "wireless" light blinking. I turned the box over, and there was the network key. Go figure.
Last night was exceedingly classy. Jayme and I went to go meet a friend of hers on Rue Mouffetard. He was eating with three people in a creperie. So Jayme and I bought beers and stood on the street corner drinking and people-watching. Pretty bizarre experience. Then when her friend came out, he basically left because it was too late for him. So we ended up sitting for a half an hour or so in an Irish pub (HAPPY ST PATRICKS DAY) listening to large, old Scots in kilts sing the night away before the big France-Scotland rugby match. And then, somehow we got chauffeured home. Yeah, I don't know either. But it was sweet.
I'm waiting for my life to get back to normal. I guess I'll speed it along by blasting some Wu-Tang clan and then following it up by practicing some Couperin in a church.
I actually have work due next week and the week after. I have my first two commentaire composees to hand in. It's intimidating to hand in work that you know will not be anywhere as good as all of the other students just because you can't actually speak the language. So what, exactly, is a commentaire composee? They give you a passage from the work you're reading, and you have to analyze the passage. Sounds simple, right? It would be if I could fully understand the meaning of the passage...
Last weekend was psycho. It was two APA girls' 21st birthdays. Bowling party and crazy house party. Plus it was Magali, one of my french cousins' 25th birthday. So lots of fun. And then Mary Page Huckabee decided, on a whim, to cross la manche (she was spending her spring break in London) and pay me a visit. Good thing my host mom is cool, and let her stay over with about a 12 hour notice. GEEZ, MARY! lolz.
I recently, as in about 10 minutes ago while I was procrastinating from actually doing these commentaire composees, realized that I do have wireless internet. I just assumed I didn't because no one ever told me about it. But I just thought about how this is the first time my host mom has had a computer, and she probably doesn't even know what she has. So I went over to the computer, and I looked at the network box, and there was a little "wireless" light blinking. I turned the box over, and there was the network key. Go figure.
Last night was exceedingly classy. Jayme and I went to go meet a friend of hers on Rue Mouffetard. He was eating with three people in a creperie. So Jayme and I bought beers and stood on the street corner drinking and people-watching. Pretty bizarre experience. Then when her friend came out, he basically left because it was too late for him. So we ended up sitting for a half an hour or so in an Irish pub (HAPPY ST PATRICKS DAY) listening to large, old Scots in kilts sing the night away before the big France-Scotland rugby match. And then, somehow we got chauffeured home. Yeah, I don't know either. But it was sweet.
I'm waiting for my life to get back to normal. I guess I'll speed it along by blasting some Wu-Tang clan and then following it up by practicing some Couperin in a church.