So I'm basically updating this because I don't want to write my personal statement for grad school right now.

Yeah, the personal statement that I need to send in TOMORROW.

But hey, that gives me all of tonight, right? And all of tomorrow, assuming I wake up before 2pm.

I'm not too worried. I tend not to get worried about these sort of things, and usually it ends up working out anyway. I think I spent all of 1 hour applying to colleges, and ended up getting accepted to every one. SATs? No problem. 30 page thesis? I started it a week before it was due and ended up with 40 pages and an A. I'll be ok.

And if I really end up writing crap, there's always my brother, a true bullshit artist. His claim to fame? Getting my other baby brother out of some potential jail time and a massive ticket, simply by writing a letter comparing his situation to that of Jane Eyre's. Fucking impressive. Baby brother is now attending a top rated American university.

In other news I saw an excellent play last night, called "Sans Sang" or "Without Blood." The play was written by an Italian, but takes place in Chili, so was thus performed in Spanish. Because the play mixed theater with cinema, there was a screen that also provided, as the French say, sus-titres. I was really wary at first because, well, listening in Spanish, reading in French and thinking in English all at the same time sounded really scary. But it turned out ok; the performance was spectacular and I understood everything. Except maybe some of the imagery. Ultimately, it was a great exercise in languages.

I have one class left today, then it's the weekend. Unfortunately, it's with my least favorite teacher, who also happens to be my Responable. Yeah, the lady who deserted me in Royan without so much as a toothbrush. She's the perfect example of the passive aggressive and unfriendly French person. Yeah, she occasionally makes small talk with me, but then proceeds to just stare at me for a good 30 seconds. She was also successful, yesterday, in making me realize how lonely Jonzac is sometimes.

Her: I saw your friend, S, the American assistant from Saintes on Friday. She was at the same movie I went to, and was there with a friend. (note, S is not really a friend, just a fellow assistant I've met a grand total of 3 times)

Me: Oh..?

Her: I'm surprised she didn't invite you.

Me: Uh?

Her: We had a lot of fun, we went out for drinks afterwards! She's great!

Me: Yeah?

Her: Too bad you didn't come

Me: ::thinking, uh, I wasn't invited?::

Her: It's too difficult for me to pick you up. Oh well.

Me: ::thinking, you know there's trains, right?:: Yeah. Too bad. ::thinking, FML::

This is the same lady who told me that her boyfriend didn't want to meet me because "he doesn't like meeting people, and he doesn't like English." What? Really? Who says that?

It's immature, but whenever I see her I just think to myself, well my English is way better than yours anyway. And you live alone with your cats.

Tomorrow I'm going shopping and cooking dinner and maybe seeing a film with a Chinese girl who lives here. I sort of already feel sorry for her, having to put up with my terrible French all night.

Then, Bordeaux on Saturday night. And then 1.5 weeks until Madrid!