BLAH.
That pretty much sums it all up. This probably sounds horrible, but thank God I no longer have Russian. I'm stressed enough without it -- if I was being forced to continue with it, I think I would throw myself off a cliff. I feel like I'm drowning in this deep pit with stuff piling over my body and suffocating me. Every time I go over in my mind what needs to be done, there's always something to add. An essay here, an appointment with the Writing Center, that all-too-important math test, the French play, studying for Logic, that all-too-important Logic test. . . . I'd like it if time could just stop for a while so I could have a breather. But, obviously, that can't happen.
I wrote my first French composition the other day. I received 44/45, which is about 98%. So, you know, I got an A. I just wish I cared more. It sounds bad, but I don't. It's expected that I do well in French, so when I don't do perfectly, it's just a let-down. I don't see the high score at the top, I just see every little correction my professor made on the page. The words "Très bien écrit, très bon français !" at the top don't mean anything to me. All I see is what I did wrong. I'm not proud of myself, I'm disappointed that I made so many mistakes. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it.
Don't even get me started on math.
L'avenir. (English translation is below. Ignore mistakes in the original -- I'm too lazy to go fix them.)
Dans l’avenir, je crois que les gens voleront dans le ciel pour voyager au travail. S’ils ne peuvent pas voler, ils ne prendront pas un autobus. Ils feront rebondir dans une grande bulle sur les rues. Mais ça ne passera pas peut-être. Survivront-ils la guerre entre les loups-garous et les vampires ? Mais non ! Les vampires éclateront les bulles des pauvres humains avec leurs dents.
—Ah ! les gens crieront, vous ne détruirez pas nos bulles !
Qui est bon et qui est mal ? Les loups-garous avec leurs cheveux qui boucheront sûrement tous les tuyaux de chaque baignoire ? Ou les vampires avec leurs dents tranchent qui perceront tous les bulles (et peut-être les cous) ? Qui sauvera la journée ? C’est le bossu de Notre-Dame, bien-sûr !
Dans l’avenir, le bossu Quasimodo se balancera de sa tour et il donnera un coup de pied aux fesses des loups-garous. Il rira et les vampires le remercieront. Donc les loups-garous ne reparaîtront jamais. Si les gens survivront cette guerre, ils auront beaucoup de choses high-tech, comme un ordinateur qui chantera tous les nombres. Les mathématiciens trouveront le bout des numéros. Mais lorsqu’on arrivera au dernier nombre, on n’en se souviendra pas le premier. L’alphabet inclura une nouvelle lettre (je ne peux pas vous le dire—c’est un secret). Les gens ne se contrediront—ils seront d’accord avec tout le monde. Pour passer le temps, les enfants peindront l’herbe dans les couleurs différentes. Leurs parents sauront pas pourquoi, mais ils souriront et ils les joindront.
Si Quasimodo échouera, le monde sera triste. Il n’y aura pas des couleurs, seulement le blanc et le noir. L’espoir du monde mourra. Les nombres iront pour toujours, et donc il n’en y aura pas un pot d’or au bout. Alors je vous préviendrai : si vous aimez l’idée des bulles et de voler, vous devrez vous bosser les dents. Sinon, les vampires vous mordront et ils transmettront leur vampirisme.
The Future.
In the future, I believe that people will fly in the sky to go to work. If they can’t fly, they won’t take a bus. They’ll bounce in a big bubble on the streets. But this might not happen. Will they survive the way between the werewolves and the vampires? But no! The vampires will bite the poor humans’ bubbles with their teeth.
“Ah!” the people will cry. “You will not destroy our bubbles!”
Who is good and who is bad? The werewolves with their hair that will surely clog all the drains of each bathtub? Or the vampires with their sharp teeth that will pierce all the bubbles (and maybe the necks)? Who will save the day? It’s the hunchback of Notre-Dame, of course!
In the future, the hunchback Quasimodo will swing from his tower and he will kick the werewolves’ asses. He will laugh and the vampires will thank him. Thus the werewolves will never reappear. If the people will survive this war, they will have a lot of high-tech things, like a computer that will sing all the numbers. The mathematicians will find the end of the numbers. But when one reaches the last number, one will not remember the first. The alphabet will include a new letter (I can’t tell it to you—it’s a secret). People will not contradict each other—they will agree with everyone. To pass the time, children will paint the grass in different colors. Their parents will not know why, but they will laugh and will join them.
If Quasimodo will fail, the world will be sad. There will not be any colors, only white and black. The hope of the world will die. The numbers will go on forever, and thus there will be no pot of gold at the end of them. So I predict to you: if you like the idea of bubbles and of flying, you will have to brush your teeth. If not, the vampires will bite you and will transmit their vampirism.
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