And I realized that I'm obsessed with it. Which is strange because...let's just say I have a prioritizing problem.
My professor is fantastic. He speaks 900 languages, has weird hair and teaches like an American, and for that I am eternally grateful. Maybe it was that I received false information (would not be the first time) about how class is conducted here in Lametalia, but I think it's just that I luckily chose a good professor. Or at least, one conducive to my learning style. AKA I need to see things written, and then repeated. He's very good about writing, repeating and clarifying that which he just repeated six times. He will constantly ask us to share our opinions, and is very open to questions and interruptions. He writes his notes on napkins. I swear. The pieces of paper look super soft and are as big as a sheet of toilet paper, and he brings 100 of them every day. These are the things I think about during class. I was also eavesdropping today, and these random Italian girls were talking about which books they were choosing to read (we need to choose 3 out of IDK 300) and 0% of them had not yet bought or read their books. Life is good today. Other people's laziness means I can too be lazy just a little while longer. Not overachieve. Overachieving is for overachievers who still wear retainers and color-coordinate, and I stopped doing that in eighth grade. I expect this sort of attitude is one that will get me far in life. One can only hope.
Plus, I've realized I'm incredibly fascinated by what we discuss in class. It's way too complicated for my young bird brain to fully understand, but just listening to him talk about it is fun (my multiculturalism class, in which we don't really talk about multiculturalism, per se...mostly the problems that arise within the concept of multiculturalism and how different governments approach them, what kinds of laws they make (and modify) based on the issues of majority vs. minority, human and civil rights, etc. It's cool. I'm going to stop acting stupid now.
Lol no continuing on with my ravishing academic reflection, I have two midterms this week. I'm not too worried about them; I go to class and pay attention and take good notes and I feel like I already have a good grasp on the concepts we'll be tested on. Subito after my exam on Thursday afternoon (and our in-class viewing of La dolce vita - SO EXCITED), I'm going to go home, pack three days' worth of clothes and a Nikon in a small backpack that weighs under 15kg (the girl who had to pay an extra $250 in troppo heavy baggage fees on her way to Bologna is flying with an airline with an incredibly strict baggage rules. Great planning, Rivera) and then Mallory and I are off to London early the next morning, where we'll be meeting Ellen, Julia, Nicola and Tati, who leave a few hours before us. And Daniel Radcliffe, who is picking me up at the airport. Mal can take the bus.
HOURS LATER...
I hate food. Mal and I - in preparation for our study party that, three hours later, has yet to begin - just made fajitas. A portion size suitable for 4 adults. It's 95% gone. We struggled going up two flights of stairs. My life goal is to be The Biggest Loser. That's all I've really done today. I finally mustered up the energy to drag my ass over to Pam, the grocery store 20 times bigger than the one I usually go to. It's no Costco (the ceilings aren't high enough and it's just a stupid place really) but it's better than what I've gotten used to. There's more variety, CARTS and, my favorite: random-ass shit at the check-out aisle. Only thing it needs is a Blockbuster.
I hear a pigeon fluttering its dirty little tattered, diseased wings. The window is open. I think it's time to go.
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