bound to happen but [inspiring showtune of choice here]

Been one of those weeks. Those. And it wasn’t even 5 days long.
Monday: we got our first graded assignment for Theme back. It’s the translation from French to English class. So basically Anglophones should own it. I got an 11 out of 20. Eff that shiz. To explain the French grading system, essays, all assigments, life is graded between 0 and 20. But 20 is this elusive, unattainable goal. Some saying goes something like “20 is for God, 19 for the angels…etc etc. Real people start clocking in around 15 or 16. However, for those of us raised on 100% point scales, it’s hard to beat the “10/20 doesn’t equal 50%” out of us. On the bright side, the prof said (not in English) “you actually did pretty well. A lot of Anglophones don’t put any thought into it and just assume they’ll do well.” Huzzah for small victories. Although there were a number of translating discrepancies that a friend (also an Anglophone) and I became slightly miffed about. In response, our prof replied “well I asked my Anglophone friend about that…” Lady, can we ask your other 99 Anglophone friends please so we can receive 96 other, different responses?” People hate learning our language because there are so many ways to say things!! I certainly respect professors but being denied in my own language when we were being marked off for not speaking British English circa 1908 was kind of frustrating.

Then we had Tuesday off.

Wednesday, yesterday. Rumor on the street is the French government will give me a check for studying their language in their country. And by me, I mean my parents, of course. That’s good news so I went and got the paper and there was a little confusion because of Clark being the middle man in payment to my lodging etc but we got it all sorted I explained it all in French since we are in France and all. And it ended up being a little vague but the woman gave me the papers and said “Ok go home and just give this to your host residence, your French seems good enough, that should be a problem.” Reprise that Huzzah? “good enough” in this country means that the given person would be thrown a parade in any other land. Where’s my key to the city?
Later, I had to do more, far less, official things. But for Goodness Effing Sake. I could not put a sentence together, let alone understand what the girl was saying to me. I was trying to be a good sport and we just both acknowledged that our conversation/my verbal diarrhea was unfortunate for all involved. So, whatever, I’m thick skinned, but as soon as I left the office this other younger guy started laughing. For the benefit of the doubt, he was probably just laughing at the situation. Other the other hand, maybe he was just a prick.
The options were as follows: punch him in the face or go home and cry like a 3 year old and call my mother. Despite the longing for the former, it would have been unjust to take out 2 and a quarter months of frustration on this boy’s nose. Thank you to my mother and the Lewiston School System for allowing my 18 minutes of whine with that cheese.
Let’s just say this day didn’t light the cheerfulness tree on fire either.
So I guess this is the wall that one hits when your body and your brain and every sane sentiment in you says “get me the hell out of here.” But 73 days in is a pretty quality run. Besides, remember that other roughly 180 that need to pass?? Then the gods of French said “and they shall be the most excellent.”
Speaking of that, got to write God’s horoscope in class today (Work: Weigh well future decisions. You no longer have the leader of free world wrapped around your finger.) Great exercise in the imperative tense.

Sorry for the downer. Tomorrow, to be sure, I’ll go careening perilously over something or be impaled by a rogue baguette. And you’ll be the first to know…