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
DONE MY ESSAY.*

DONE MY ESSAY.

DONE MY ESSAY!!!


FUCK YEAH! RESEARCH METHODS, COME AT ME, BRO!

*I probably failed. It probably sucks. My prof probably hates me. Number of fucks being given right now? NONE.
Happy belated April Fool's! There is now less than a month left until school is done! Please let's just skip the entire damn thing and let it be summer! I will not have a soul when exams are over, I can say that much with confidence. (I honestly feel like I'm turning grey around the edges and withering. WTF. I'm nineteen, not eighty-nine!)

In other news, I was actually fairly productive today, though not in much of a coherent manner. I camped out at the library after class, but instead of getting through a paragraph on my Diderot essay, I wrote sporadic sentences for each of my arguments, the result of which is a hugely disjointed and grammatically incorrect mush of words, which I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY MEAN. But whatever, I'll take it.

On a related note, I was doing ~le research and came upon a book - whose title I forget - wherein... well, I don't even know what the author was smoking, but ;alskdjf;askd HOW DID THAT THING GET PUBLISHED, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. It was like reading the best ship manifesto ever, only I know it wasn't intended as such*. But when the author started referring to Jacques and Le Maître as a two part harmony, a "perfect fifth", two sides of the same coin - literally! A line from Merlin! In that book! - I kinda stopped taking it seriously. Which was probably a good thing. I lol'd my way through the section about how the different levels of dialogue corresponded to the stages of male sexual behaviour, and when I got to the part about sacred bondage, I just about died.

LITERATURE IS AMAZE, YOU GUYS.

My essay, unfortunately, is not. But I'm working on it.

*LOLWUT OF COURSE I DON'T SHIP JACQUES/SON MAITRE. UM. WHY WOULD YOU EVER THINK THAT? My slash goggles are welded to my face, ok?
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
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.
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.

Pensées

Oct. 18th, 2010 07:46 pm
OMG PASCAL Y SO THINKY? It's times like these that I wonder why I do this to myself. I hate philosophy. I suck at writing essays, and I only took Core French in high school. This? This is basically a French philosophy course centering on seventeenth and eighteenth century French literature. Just. What.

Although, that said, I don't actually mind doing the readings; I just object to being tested on them. I really, really love the richness of expression and the eloquence these authors somehow manage to achieve (even If I sometimes disagree with their reasoning). I want to be able to write like that.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

[Error: unknown template qotd] and myself.)

Buerre d'arachide!
"Peanut butter!" (But if you say it angrily enough, it sounds like you're swearing)

Fuck!
Fornicate! ... simply because I have yet to find another word that makes its point so blatantly. "Va te faire foutre" has too much of an elegant ring to it.

(Hooly shit, I hate exams. After the fifteenth, I promise I will CATCH UP ON EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG)

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