Since I have not posted on here for a high old time, I figured I would today. I have un petit peu de temps to breathe, since I have pretty much given up on being super-diligent in French. Quoi faire? If I can't get the critical article on Inch'Allah Dimanche (excellent film, by the way) done, or Thursday's homework, (which looks set to be about fashion. Fuck off) then OH WELL. I have so much to do anyway. I will rant on this topic as I am now too lazy and vague to have the Life Discussion I had planned.
D'accord, well. I have to read the first book (or is the first two?!) of Paradise Lost for next Monday, plus a pack of secondary reading. Yes, that's right... 'a pack.' Moan, whimper, mumble, etc. Now, I have read Paradise Lost already (hallelujah! Hallelujah!), as anyone unfortunate enough to know me in real life knows. It was a near-deathly experience which took so long, I can't actually remember how long. I fell asleep about 20 times through though, which BODES ILL.
Ironic thus that the second book I have to read (for Tuesday!) is called The Awakening. Kate Chopin, breast-exposing woman on the front cover (no... not Janet Jackson... though you can bet those SuperBowl spectators - and Justin - sure came to their senses pretty fast). Apparently, we'll like it. We'd better, is all I can say! Still, it is shorter than The Bostonians, which wasn't actually too bad, so there is hope for me.
In between this delightful reading fun comes the shock of actually having to THINK FOR MYSELF, otherwise known as my radio project with Thomas N-. Let me take you on a little tour of Tom. He is gangling (tall-ish, incredibly skinny), very intelligent and unbearably formal. I like him, but sometimes I am caught in the desire to terrify the hell out of him by rubbing his head very very slowly. Why, you ask? Well...
The formality can be a bit much for sure. I have times where I feel like sticking my hands in my back pockets and going "Well gee Tom, why don't you lighten up a bit?" like some 1950s American-schoolkid-gone-Enid-Blyton. Tom is lovely, but he tends to be impatient - something that doesn't come across at first, because he has a stammer (I think). Thus, he takes ages to say something. Cruel people in our class (Therese, Nesh) smother laughter when he speaks up. To be honest though, I think it is simply because, like me, his brain often moves faster than his mind. In his case, MUCH faster. I do like him a lot, but sometimes I just feel like going 'Tom, I know you're very smart and etc., but please shut up a second and let me talk, and while you're listening, formulate a bit so you won't struggle to express your ideas.' He also tends to interrupt / talk over you sometimes. I'm certain it's one of those things people have constantly forgiven him (because he is sweet), thus he doesn't realise he's doing it. Did I also mention that the boy is so goddamn diligent, he makes me look like some Courtney Love-style layabout? It verges on the bureaucratic. Bad girl, you will not - no, you will not pull his ears! Aha, um yes, well, I need a bit more patience too.
But ja, this radio project basically means we have to actually prepare a script, interview some specialists, give the whole thing a proper analytical backbone (it has to make some kind of clear argument) - AND THEN RECORD IT ALL IN NINE MINUTES!
I tell you, nine minutes? I know that dear old Nicole is a bit nuts (apparently her husband was in the Hungarian Revolution of 1956...), but this takes the biscuit. Personally, I am all in favour of our being replaced by those chipmunks that can be heard when a tape malfunctions / is played speeded-up.
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