Here I am, in the final week and a half of my sojourn here in France. On the one hand, I am having a great time, and there is a lot more I want to do. On the other hand, I miss my friends (hey peeps!), my family, my cat and my bank balance. Plus, I am so sick of classes right now I could puke.


For example, right now I could be writing my essay on Michelet right now. I have started it, and it is due tomorrow. I also realized that I have another essay and an oral presentation in that class, due next week. And that doesn’t count the writing class…


Fortunately, I have lucked into the grammar class with the least amount of homework. It isn’t a function of level (it turns out that I am not in the lowest level of everyone in our group, and that there are some people in the advanced level – of course, it doesn’t affect course credit back in Wisconsin, but I still care), just the preference of the professor. For that, I am grateful. The writing class, which started Monday, is taught by a woman who, to look at her, appears to be the meanest woman in all of France, but that’s just appearances. She’s actually very cool, though no pushover by any means. I think I’m going to get a lot out of the class, which is good, since I did want to take the second literature class, as the professor is freakin’ awesome, and the material is fascinating (and minimal homework too boot). But I knew the writing class would be more practical in the long run. Occasionally, we do wacky writing activities, such as write a story using only words that begin with the letter “S” (with the exception of function words and pronouns) or write something about “meeting” involving France, culture and love. But it is usually structuring an argumentative essay or the like. I’m good at those in English, but the structure is different, and I’m improving my vocabulary of transition words. Which is good, because I use “cependant” and “bien que” an average of 54 times in every paper I write for a French class.


So, with the level of work I have been doing for class, my dream of doing something different each day has been scaled back, and today I had to say, “not today.” But yes, I have time to write. I will get back to Michelet, but quite frankly, the class gives me a pain these days, and I lack motivation.


I’m also participating in a linguistics study involving French vowels, which gives me a nerdy, giddy rush. I told the woman running the study that I’m studying French and Linguistics and after I finish participating, she’s going to talk to me and show me what she’s doing. All the better to suck up fall semester back home in Phonetics and Phonology class.


Alas, I must finish this, as Michelet will no longer wait for me. He will rise from the dead, and blather on about the French Revolution until I drop dead from exhaustion. It is a sad day when I dislike a French class so much. All well, the session is almost over, and I’m off to Paris for a few days, playing the tourist.


But first, homework. And before Paris, I’m off to Marseilles (this Saturday).