Yesterday, I had my once-a-week-for-forty-minutes session of French. It was quite a pity, because the only thing I learned was simply that I needed to study more. My teacher had asked me to say, "I am fourteen years old," to which I replied, "Actually, I'm fifteen." I'm not really sure if that was my subconscious overpowering my intelligence, because truth be told, I did not know how to say "fourteen" in French, but I did in fact know how to say "fifteen". But lo and behold, he insisted I use fourteen, and I'm pretty sure that the expression I wore upon my face right then and there made it blatantly obvious that I had not studied.
I should probably spend more time doing this, too.
I do think I'm making progress. Well, slow progress, but progress nonetheless. Hey, it's really not that easy when you're only doing it once a week as opposed to every day! But I really am enjoying myself in the class, and it's especially awesome because it's only me and three other people. Thank goodness for that, 'cause the language is über complicated (but very pretty and totally worth the humiliation I occasionally go through). The hardest part is probably trying to get the accent down. My teacher's all like, "Up in the nose!" and I'm like, "What!? That's for smelling, not speaking!" Well, I try, I try. That's gotta count for something. So, please enjoy these photos that I took from my summer trip to Paris, aka my future residence.
Sick...in the best way possible. You just don't get shiz like that in NY.
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