The only blip on my summer's horizon---work

So, by the time July rolled around, life was good. My class was over, my stress melted away, I was no longer horribly lonely and hungry because my parents arrived, I had some "me" time, and all I had to look forward to was a lazy vacation on the seashore before heading back home. Right? Well, kind of.

Remember that class I was taking? Well, aside from the 10 books and journal entries and whatnot, we also had to write a paper by July 18th, 8-10 pages in French. Fine and dandy. I have no real problem writing in French, and after a month my French juices were certainly flowing; however, after having lost the momentum of the class, and having resigned myself to a decadent life of pleasure (i.e. sleep, eating, walking, and hanging out), a paper was not something I was ready for.

There I was, three days before the due date, sitting on the coast of France in perfect weather, and thinking about the relationship between individuals and crowds. Yay. You thought procrastinating at school was easy--try it over the summer. In France.

At first, I sat in my fluffy throne looking confused and sad:


Then, I rallied my zen forces:


And then I got down to business:



The paper got written with six hours to spare. But, jeez. It was torture. I am pretty sure the final 2.5 pages make no sense whatsoever. But I am ok with that. I sent it in, went home, had a cocktail, and had a large dinner. That made everything slightly more ok.