Some of the things Oisin says a lot:
I have no idea what is going on.
Fuck it’s cold.
I found cheap-ass flights!
My Spanish still sucks.
I like Italian but not my Italian class.
I still have no idea what is going on.
This morning was my first day back to uni in 4 weeks, sporting my snazzy new beard, which had Camille, Elena and Oceáne in fits of laughter (maybe I’m just a giver). With only three full weeks of the semester left, I think it might hold up. But at once the girl in front of me turned around and asked if the assignment was due today or tomorrow. I had no idea. Have I done it? No. Will I? No. The girl next to me has done it, and her’s is 20 pages long, not including the references, bibliography and source material. What. The. Fuck. ? So she’s managed to soldier through with at least 6,000 words. Kudos for her. The professor did his best to explain, I tuned out, and my Spanish still sucks. But Miss 6k Palabras then spent most of the lecture reading a newspaper and doing the suduko in the back. Instantly I liked her. She had the right combination of overworking, underworking, paying attention and staring off into space.
Italian cinema was next, and our original professora was back. This is the same woman that tortures me in the Italian class and was presumably kicked out of this class because there had been complaints. But she was back, and for the first time started telling us about the essay that is due, what is involved and blah blah blah. In case you were staring off into space, allow me to reiterate.
With only three full weeks of the semester left . . . for the first time started telling us about the essay that is due.
That’s right people! Miss Disorganised herself reigns supreme. And it wasn’t just me going “WTF? AN ESSAY?” it was everyone. Even the good students in their fifties, the sort who really want to be there were up in arms and our lecture was railroaded into what is expected in this essay. Isn’t she special? We should have the Razzies for my uni.
Finally for the day . . . Italian. And at last! A successful lesson! Why was it successful? Because Oisin didn’t get picked on by the teacher. But let me sum up what it’s like being in this class: imagine the teacher has a map of Rome. You have a map of Florence. She then starts giving directions. The lesson did not make me hate myself, so that was good.
Right, to back track a little, something annoyingly weird happened this morning. I went to bed at midnight. My roommate is sometimes a loud talker, and he woke me up an hour later. I woke up again during the night because it was cold. I woke up again as fresh as a daisy at 4:40 and lay in bed wondering why I couldn’t sleep for another hour, at which point I got up and had breakfast and started getting ready for the day. Normally I wake up groggily at 8am and barely catch my train in time. This time I made myself pancakes, showered, then had a second breakfast, two coffees, studied Italian (che cazzo è questo?) and got ready for the day. So I managed to survive well through the day, but now I’ve been awake for 14 hours on 4-ish hours of sleep and I want to curl up and have a nap. But the shops close in two hours, I’m feeling lazy, the caffeine kick is backfiring and I’m wondering if I should like by those immortal words: fuck it.
Anyhoo, tomorrow I’m looking for cheap-ass flights.
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