"Are you doing 10 full pages of commentary or just like 7 ish + a translation. I can specifically remember walking out of class one day and have her saying that we could include our translation in the 10 pages; but she never said it again after that.
O M F G, I HATE THIS SHIT."
"I am heading towards 10 full pages of commentary, which is actually 10
full pages of brain poo-poo. Seriously, I have two pages of
introduction (where I babble liberally about the "tâche du
traducteur") and then some more BS where I talk about the implications
of using one definition over another. To get out the full 10, I am
spending the last 2.5 pages talking about "procédés de traduction" and
how they apply to Old/Modern French.
I don't remember her saying that we could include the
translation in the 10 pages, but I believe you. (Which sucks since
I've spent so long on these last three pages). I decided to go for all
10 because the sample papers seemed to have that much commentary.
If you want to do seven though, I think you should. I bet your paper
is really good and makes plenty of insightful comments in less space.
I'm serious, for real.
UGHGHGAFJDS;AFJDSLA;FJDAS;. Have you done the translation for tomorrow?
After I'm done, I might go insane and run to your house and force you
to make tatertot casserole, in which we can jointly drown our sorrows."
Welcome to my life as a grad student. I am pathetic.
Anyway...Yesterday, I ran my requisite Saturday four-miler around the country club and then went to kickboxing class with Jessica, Liz, and Dan. I continued in my general trend of uncoordinated flailing, much to my chagrin, and today, I am quite sore.
...The rest of the afternoon was spent in the library...
In funny news, I am endlessly amused by the fact that our electricity bill comes to "Harifon and Micha." I remember clearly spelling out our names over the phone to the power company, but apparently, when faced with the choice between "F" and "S", the phone operator chose the former.
This morning, it was quite cold (3 degrees F) when I woke up. I waited until it was a balmy 8 degrees to go for my run. The boyfriend convinced me that I didn't need any sort of jacket, so I pranced out the door in a long-sleeved wicking shirt with a t-shirt overtop, tights, hat, and gloves. Apparently, this was not enough clothing. Two-thirds into my run, I realized, "Oh shit. I am really cold." and immediately starting worrying that I was getting frost-bite or having a cold-induced stroke (which I don't think exists). Fortunately, I had Ashley's giant Christmas playlist (4+ hours) to keep me going. I covered 8.25 miles, and by the end, my left arch was acting up again. It isn't sharp pain that makes me alter my stride, but it's bothersome nonetheless. I maintain my hypothesis that I strained something in my foot while slipping on an icy patch since subsequent slipping has induced pain. Monday is an off day, but I might take two and hope it clears up.
To celebrate the end of my Old French paper, I said that I would buy something for myself. Honestly, finishing the paper is reward enough, but I may still use it as an excuse to be a shameless consumer whore. Do you ever buy yourself anything around Christmas?
Nevertheless (or Néanmoins, as I just wrote approximately 24890328490327582 times in my paper), I began my Christmas shopping by ordering online. Even though I still have a lot to do in the next two weeks (CRAP! Old French final on Friday!), I can finally acknowledge that it is Christmas season!
I was waiting until I finished my paper to share this holiday picture with you. It seriously never gets old: