Found out while skyping with my mom on the weekend that not only did someone try to break in to our house, but also my childhood playground was burned to the ground.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, TORONTO?!

Luckily, the would-be burglars didn't get in (though we now need a whole new door, thanks so fucking much), and no one was hurt in the fire.

I'm just so mad, though.

(But. I don't want to end on a negative note. The Whirlwind City Tour was beyond amazing. Pics up soon at Dutch My Life.)
Exams: 3/5*

Dear body:

WHAT WHAT WHAT ARE YOU DOING. Stop dying on me! Exams aren't done yet, you cannot keep collapsing all over the place halfway through the day. I require the ability to complete sentences until Thursday at 5pm! I have to study like a mofo for French and Biopsyc, and that is dependent upon your ability to continuously maintain adequate muscle tension and to actually concentrate for more than 30 seconds at a time! This zoning out business has got to stop.

No love,
Sarah

a;sdlfjasdklf I am going to fail all the things. I am panicking now, but I cannot concentrate enough to study, which is new and unsettling. Thoughts start forming in my mind and then before I can complete them, they get obscured by white noise. So dumb.

As long as I can make it til Thursday, all will be forgiven.

*Exams I have a shot at passing: 0/5

PHOTO POST

Mar. 20th, 2011 11:05 pm
BECAUSE PRODUCTIVITY IS FOR N00BS.

Below the cut: my partial costume for our Videodance number, which is choreographed to a Lady Gaga mashup (Bad Romance, Alejandro, Just Dance). Uh, warnings for derpy photos and me wearing revealing clothing? If this offends anyone, I apologize in advance!
Image-heavy-ish! Also, again, I'm wearing kind of saucy clothing? IDK, IT'S GAGA!  )

I feel really weird posting this, but I'm really excited for recital, and I've never bedazzled a sports bra done my own costume before.
Things My French Prof Talks About: a) the multiple stories within Jacques le fataliste, b) the quarrels, setbacks and conflicts that surrounded Diderot's work on L'Encyclopédie of 1751-72.

What I Choose To Do With That Knowledge: This. Posted a while ago on tumblr, but on here for posterity, because if you're looking for my stupid, you should be able to find it all in one place.

Not to mention, the following, being a ridiculous, completely historically inaccurate thing I wrote down while I should have been paying attention to a discussion about theater or something.

(Just going to preface the cut with the disclaimer that a) I know nothing about screenwriting; b)SO MUCH HISTORICAL INACCURACY because I can't be bothered to look up dates for these events; c) this is, actually, the most random thing EVER, sorry.)
d) franglais is totally an official language, wtf are you talking about? )

...I also wrote something down about a prompt for a prison!au-thing, based on Rousseau visiting Diderot while he was in prison* (and Diderot possibly subsequently influencing EVERYTHING ROUSSEAU DID, EVER (if you ask my prof)), but I think that will have to wait until I find the magical place where a kink meme for 18th century French writers/philosophes actually, y'know, exists.

*I live in fear of the day anyone asks to borrow my french notes. "What's this?" "Oh, that's, um. Just a bit of porn I wrote about Diderot getting it on with Voltaire. NBD."

ETA: Oh my GOD, dear flist D,,,,:  *HUGS*
This is a post all about eighteenth century French literature! Because reading Diderot is just... LOLWUT. But it is not a srs!bznz post because a) LOL THE BOOK IS WRITTEN IN FRENCH, WHAT IS THIS READING COMPREHENSION YOU SPEAK OF? and (consequently), b) my summary of the book is basically as follows: two guys ride around and talk about their sexcapades.

I REALLY ENJOYED THIS BOOK. :DDDDDD

Let the record show that: 1) If I am looking up fanfiction for Jacques le fataliste, it is only because DIDEROT TOLD ME TO. Or, rather, he was all "I DARE YOU TO DO BETTER Si vous n'êtes pas satisfait de ce que je vous révèle des amours de Jacques, lecteur, faites mieux, j'y consens." WHICH IS BASICALLY THE SAME THING.

2) "Tu es mon serviteur, quand je suis malade ou bien portant, et je suis le tien quand tu te portes mal." (p.118) ;LASKDJF;LASKDJFAS YOU GUYS WHY IS IT SO ~BROMANTIC ;ASLDKJFA;LSDF (There are other examples, but I am too lazy to type up a whole paragraph of French js.)

3)... THAT IS SOME NICE BROMANCE YOU'VE GOT GOIN' ON THERE, DIDEROT.

Jacques: Bonjour, ladies.
Look at your Maître. Now back to me. Now back à votre Maître. Et encore à moi. Malheureusement, il n'est pas moi. Mais s'il ne prendrait pas une prise de tabac en regardant l'heure qu'il est, he could act like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're camping in the French countryside with your Maître. What's on your mind? I have it! It's a history of the time I learned sex didn't have to be in the missionary position. Look again. The woman is now on top! Anything is possible si c'est écrit là-haut.
Son Maître: I'm on a horse.

SOMEDAY, I WILL ACCEPT THAT NO ONE APPRECIATES BUTCHERED FRANGLAIS OLD SPICE MEMES*. UNTIL THEN, YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO PUT UP WITH ME.

*Also, why have I not been able to find one for The Eagle? STEP IT UP, FANDOM. :D
OH... MY... GOD.

I'M PUTTING A HIT OUT ON TODAY. I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL SOMETHING. SOMUCHRAGE. (And all over the internet, too; dear Twitter feed, you are more than I deserve).
Take: 1 hormonal teenager, 1 biopsyc midterm, 6 hours of sleep, 1 toaster, 1 irresponsible housemate. Put through blender. Makes OVER NINE THOUSAND servings of teen angst. )
I'm totally studying right now, I swear... *shifty eyes*

Um. UM. Today was loooooooooong and booooooooring. *shoots smiley face into wall*
Cut to spare you my ridiculousness. For the record, yes, I do come up with these things while sober. No, I don't know what's wrong with my brain either. )

This is what I get for lack of sleep, FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

WHY DO I HAVE THESE CRAVINGS, I DO NOT KNOW. WHAT THE FUCK, SELF, WHAT THE FUCK.

*Is it bad that I based this off how I talk in everyday conversations? Maybe.
I AM GOING TO FAIL MY COGNITIVE PSYCHOLOGY EXAM.

Why? you ask.

Because for the last significant portion of my life, instead of studying with the online flashcards or summarizing my notes, or anything useful, I have converted my notes on memory into... a spoof of the Powerthirst video.

For reference, chunking is a process that aids in memory, and is defined in my notes as: Combining small units into larger ones, such as when individual words are combined into a meaningful sentence.
***
this will make sense to exactly no one... )

***

...Somehow, I don't think this would be an acceptable answer to any question my prof could ask.

WHAT IS MY LIFE.
HELLO, STUDENTS.

LOOK AT YOUR ESSAY. NOW BACK TO THE CLOCK. NOW BACK TO YOUR ESSAY. NOW BACK TO THE CLOCK. SADLY, IT IS APPROACHING THREE IN THE MORNING. AND IF YOU KEEP UP POSTING RANDOMLY ON LJ, IT WILL BE FOUR AM BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE.

SCROLL DOWN. BACK UP. WHERE ARE YOU? YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF EDITING A PARAGRAPH ABOUT L'HONNETE HOMME DANS LA LITTERATURE CLASSIQUE. WHAT'S ON THE PAGE? I HAVE IT. IT'S A SENTENCE WITH VITAL CONTENT THAT YOU CAN'T FIND A PLACE FOR IN THE ENTIRE ESSAY.

LOOK AGAIN. YOUR ANXIETY IS NOW ADRENALINE. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE ON FOUR HOURS OF SLEEP.

I NEED SOME COFFEE.

why does my life center around writing spoofs of internet memes ijdgi


Maybe if I am sleep-deprived as long as possible, it will hurt less when I get back my mark for this essay. :/ OTL.

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