Crazy crazy week.

Okay, so I'm not sure whether this week's craziness is winding down or just taking a deep breath before the grand finale. I did not flunk Midterm #2--in fact, the most obnoxious part about it was that we were allowed one page of handwritten notes and I stayed up until 4am cramming a semester's worth of stuff onto one sheet of paper, only to discover I didn't need any of it. Completely straightforward, no obscure questions. The exact opposite of Midterm #1. Dammit, I could've got a full night's sleep.

Packing for the big move to the new host family. Uberbitch has apparently been informed that I'm leaving, and the program director inists that everything's OK and going smoothly, but I am still slightly leery of what will happen when she comes home. I don't think she's going to make a big scene out of it, but interrogation and/or subtly nasty comments are a possibility, and I am just so sick of her shit. And the fact that I have to anticipate and think about her shit, and the mental weight it puts on me.

Grargh, I feel so shut-down--like I'm just going about everyday necessary routines and not much else. Ordinarily this would be pretty normal functioning, but I am in Paris and I feel like opportunities are whooshing past my head while I sit holed up in my room. I really hope I break loose a little after the move.

Crazy crazy week.

Okay, so I'm not sure whether this week's craziness is winding down or just taking a deep breath before the grand finale. I did not flunk Midterm #2--in fact, the most obnoxious part about it was that we were allowed one page of handwritten notes and I stayed up until 4am cramming a semester's worth of stuff onto one sheet of paper, only to discover I didn't need any of it. Completely straightforward, no obscure questions. The exact opposite of Midterm #1. Dammit, I could've got a full night's sleep.

Packing for the big move to the new host family. Uberbitch has apparently been informed that I'm leaving, and the program director inists that everything's OK and going smoothly, but I am still slightly leery of what will happen when she comes home. I don't think she's going to make a big scene out of it, but interrogation and/or subtly nasty comments are a possibility, and I am just so sick of her shit. And the fact that I have to anticipate and think about her shit, and the mental weight it puts on me.

Grargh, I feel so shut-down--like I'm just going about everyday necessary routines and not much else. Ordinarily this would be pretty normal functioning, but I am in Paris and I feel like opportunities are whooshing past my head while I sit holed up in my room. I really hope I break loose a little after the move.