I list a many thing

A short list of things that I am really good at forgetting:
Laundry.
My homework.
That if tomorrow is a Sunday, the shops will be closed, and if I don’t go shopping now I’m going to starve.
That attendance at class might be compulsory.

The last week of sleep looked like this (actually this is quite normal, especially with all the friggin travelling I’ve put myself through):
Monday: 2am, go to bed. 8am, wake up, go to uni. Fucking tired the whole day. Go to bed at midnight.
Tuesday: 8am, wake up, go to uni. Surprisingly not tired until the prospect of going to Italian hits me. Go to bed at 2am (actually, last Tuesday was a 5am going to bed, but I was chatting to my favourite Argie).
Wednesday: 2pm, wake up. Go to bed at 2am.
Thursday: 7am, wake up. Go to airport. Feel groggy. Siesta at 4pm, up again at 6, go to bed at 1am.
Friday: 9am, wake up. Siesta at 2pm, wake up at 6, go to bed at 1am.
Saturday: 7am, wake up. Get home at 1.30am, go to bed at 2am.
Sunday: 2pm, wake up. Go to bed at 2am.

As you can see it’s totally eractic and nonsensical, but that is what it’s like to be me. My sleeping patterns are completely whack and if I wake up early I feel like crap and if I wake up late I feel guilty and lazy. I still wish I could teleport, though.

The day of wondering continues, as if I was in Kung Fu, walking the Earth, getting into adventures and constantly asking “what the fuck is going on?” Thankfully my first class is starting to make sense. It’s a linguistics class (it took me about 4 weeks to figure that out) and today we did paralinguistics. Sweet! (that’s how you say something, like rhythm and tone and all that bulldickery) I did that a while ago in Australia, in English, so let’s hope that I’ll still get credited. Fingers crossed (at this point I’ll remind you all that there are no lesson plans or course outlines for us to read. The only information we have about the subject is it’s name, and ‘Coloquial Spanish’ is not exactly clear). Then it was another weird day of Italian cinema. We’re back to our second lecturer, who seems confident that she’ll be back again tomorrow, and instead of watching the rest of the movie (which we should have done last Tuesday), she goes on a 90 minute quiet monologue. I wrote just two words, and they might be someone’s name. I hope that’s relevant to the exam. Again, no course outline. I don’t even know if I have any essays to do. Or books to read. Or movies to watch. She promised us that we’ll watch the rest of the movie tomorrow. She promised us that last week, and again today. Even Camille looked bored today and she’s usually a note-taking fiend.

I then decided to ditch Italian, but somehow decided to stick around and was surprised to find myself sitting next to a chatty Spanish girl who was just as confused by the lecturer as I was, and we found other people in the backrow who are just as lost as me! I’m not alone! That actually made me feel better. The lecturer is the least clear teacher you could imagine. “Let’s go through to activity 21” she’ll say. She’ll make no mention of a page number, or even what activity we start at. We have to ask. And when we each have to read out a small paragraph from the book she’ll look at you and say “continue” even though we’ve finished the reading, only to find that she’s now looking at a different page and a different activity (and if there’s a choice, you’re boned).

In each of my classes I have the ability to know when it’s been 40 minutes. This invariably makes me want to cry, because I’m usually correct. Just once I’d like to feel like 40 minutes and instead be 5 minutes until the end of the class. I don’t do well with the half way point. I start to feel better when 80% of something is done. Then, and only then, do I feel like there is some light at the end of the tunnel.

So let’s see, laundry? In the washing machine. Homework? Not yet done. Food? Have. Want to go to class? Still no. And Chinese Democracy still sucks.