Halloween Blues

Well well well, once again, I am sick. For what seems to be the ten billionth Halloween in a row. I can blame it on any number of people who insist on going out while contagious, although I know full well that I've simply been overdoing it a little. On the bright side, I have 2 days of nothing to do but watch movies and mope around, using paper towels instead of going out to buy tissues at the supermarket (I am just that lazy). My mom, of all people, actually came up with the brilliant idea that it is the stress of worrying about getting sick that got me sick in the first place, as I had an enormous presentation yesterday that I clearly could not do. Apparently the exact same thing used to happen in grammar school, of which I have no recollection. Hmm, interesting hypothesis, mom, let me know when you have an actual solution to the problem.

And now, stories. My homestay family is gone for two weeks and Jean-Daumier ("J.D"), my host brother, is in the house to keep me company. Or, more like hang out in the office watching TV on the internet (there's no family television). Bizarre. Wednesday nights I have my once-a-week dinner with the family, and since they aren't here, J.D. invites 5 (!!!) of his friends over, and I invite my friend Laura. Hilariousness ensues. J.D. is about the same age, maybe a little older, and most of his buddies are in the 22-23 range. All of them are studying math or economics or statistics or something completely dry but super lucrative. So Laura and I, both in the liberal arts fields, were lightly teased the entire night for how easy our workload is (NOT TRUE. In Paris, yes, maybe easy. In the states? No way. I distinctly remember a 1-week period when I had 4 essays due. In one semester, I average 10 5-7 page papers. Is that an easy workload? That, combined with all the reading required of an English major? Thought not.)

There was that, and the french language corrections. Now, I'm no French connoisseur, but I've always prided myself on having a pretty good accent. (Half of the time when I do things like grocery shopping or going to the movie theatre, people don't respond in English, a little perturbed. Things are improving!) However, so simple of a word as "beaucoup" I apparently have been pronouncing completely wrong my entire life. Apparently, what I've actually been saying these past 4 years of my francophone life, is "nice ass": beau cul. Great. Fucking terrific. "Merci-nice-ass!" How people didn't burst out laughing randomly at the supermarket, I have no clue.

[J.D. later told me that they were exaggerating, so maybe it isn't really that bad]

In other news, it's time to think about classes for next semester and I am freaked out. I am not ready to leave this cross-continental bubble. Then again, I do miss the Columbia lifestyle, just a little bit.

Now, I must drink my 4th cup of tea of the day. Next weekend: AMSTERDAM!!!

And, to conclude, a hilarious picture from Barcelona, my friends and I attempting a triple-piggyback ride and failing miserably: