There is a moment in Anne of Green Gables when Anne is freaking out (actually a couple of them, she is a bit of a freaker-outer, and I love her all the more for it) and Miss Stacey reassures her by saying something along the lines of ‘You must remember, Anne, that tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it’. Anne took great comfort from that fact, and I do too.
I went back to French last night with some residual worry left over from Tuesday night’s BAD MOMENT. I started thinking that maybe the conjugation of regular ‘er’ verbs and a couple of indefinite articles might be all my feeble mind could handle. I would become present tense girl, capable only of making terse, cave man (cave woman, I suppose, but that sounds funny, damn this patriarchal world we live in) statements like ‘I EAT’ and ‘I GO NOW’. Even simple requests like ‘where is the bathroom’ would elude me and I would find myself searching out bushes in the bush, and end up dying a tragic and mortifying death by scorpian sting to the ass. I have what you might call a healthy imagination.
But I went to class, and I held very shaky and ultimately unclear conversation with my teacher in which I enthusiastically informed her that I would not be taking the next session of classes, even though, I WILL, in fact be taking said class. Clearly I need it. The glory of this class and my lovely teacher Susanna is that I somehow ended up feeling comforted by this exchange. I may have said the wrong words, but hell, I said something at least, and we worked it all out in the end. I hope that I am able to remember that when I find myself feeling extremely frustrated—that it will most likely all work out in the end. And even if it doesn’t, tomorrow is another day, and with any luck I’ll wake up in a better mood. I think I will also need to remember that a day completed without intestinal difficulties must be considered a successful one, regardless of any language limitations.
Also adding to my general good feelings about French? Beer! A couple of the kids (actually, not so much ‘kids’ as people who are in general about 5 years older than me…people who didn’t get carded at the bar…ahem) from class having been going out on Thursdays after class and since this week I wasn’t having any surgery done, I joined them. It was good clean fun, although slightly less clean than the fun had in class, which is exactly what I look for in the people I drink with. Most of them are taking the next session too, which is great as I feel really comfortable with them, and that makes it easier to speak really horribly in front of them and ask questions like ‘Did you just say that your friend lives in Seattle, next to the Chinese?’ Turns out the words for ‘my house’ and the word for ‘Chinese’ are quite similar.
Being clear on that distinction will probably be very helpful in Africa, so I’m glad I asked.