okay, actually, just read today's entry and not yesterday's

I was in a state yesterday, though only the bon dieu knows why. I blame it on Sundays in France, which are generally boring to the point of one losing one's shit rather completely. I even kept myself up half the night, rolling around and stressing about various stupid things I've been doing or not doing or thinking or not thinking. It was sort of terrifying - it felt a little like a panic attack, because I couldn't really talk myself down. Not that I've really ever had any success reasoning with myself.

I have to believe everything is going to be okay, but I also have to take fucking steps to make that happen. I need to send off some bullshit to get my titre de sejour, which I left at gare du nord on my way to Amsterdam. I need to solve the mystery of how to get my carte de sejour and fix my social security bullshit. Also, I have to pass some kind of medical exam, and I actually WANT to do that now so I have a doctor captive so I can ask him about this fucked up 'wart' that has been on my ankle for the last...seven or eight months? They told me it was a wort at the health center at my school, which makes me even surer that it is cancer and that I am in fact going to die semi-immediately.

"If only you had come sooner," I can already hear the doctor saying.

Though most likely it is nothing. However it could be something. Like slow-moving gangreen. Maybe I'll have to get a prosthetic leg! Or it could just be a wort that is mysteriously untreatable (I bought a home wart kit treatment this summer and freezed the bitch three times, all for naught).

Do you see how these warring rationalizations could keep me up til three in the morning?!

Anyway, here's a funny story for balance.

Last Friday, I was taking groups of terminales (seniors in French high school) for the first time. To start, I was certain I was getting them the last two hours of the day, from 3:30 to 5:30. Those of you familiar with the zaniness of the 24 hour clock can no doubt guess what happens next...I was, in fact, supposed to have them from 13:30 to 15:30, or 1:30 to 3:30 in 'actual time.' So, I missed the first group all together and I only took the second because they passed by the salle de profs to say hi before class and I just happened to be there at what I was certain was an hour early (which never happens). To top it all off, these are the students of the prof who is:
1.) Woefully conventional and into forcing me to do stupid, subversive texts with them. The current text talks about how truancy is a cry for help and most truants are criminals (blatant statistical manipulation, obvs).
2.) Already hating on my shit because of my semi-perpetual fuckups.
3.) My least fave person to work with, possibly ever.
4.) AND the bitch wants to invite me and Matt to dinner at her house (ARGH!).

Anyway, in a fit of coincidence, the only three students I'm really friends with make up half this group. One of them smoke a roach right in front of me before we went into class (obvs I did not give a shit since I asked her to buy me hash once when I was drunk (and gave her twenty euros to do so)). I also shared a cig with another of them before we went in.

Since I was thinking the class was an hour later, I also failed to make photocopies of this aforementioned horrible text. And in addition to kind of sucking at English, the three girls I'm also friends with did not really feel it was necessary to work/try and set a lovely example for the other half of the class to not have to do anything.

Oddly, I didn't actually mind. Basically, I told them a few things about the text instead of reading it and then we BSed in French for twenty minutes and I let them go twenty minutes early.

I am the greatest assistant EVER!

Today, I only had one hour of class and my students didn't even come. This is going to be another one of those exceptionally easy weeks...

Looking forward to a mid-week laundry/amusement trip to Brest, and to this weekend, which promises strange and exciting events (party on a boat, big concert fest, etc.)

I started coifing my hair so my bangs go over my forhead in this very windswept/boho/early Beatles-esque way. Love it.