I’ve been off the grid for a while. I’d like to say I was chosen as the new 007 agent and had to recover a priceless diamond/nuclear launch codes/world leader from utter catastrophe, but this, sadly, is not the case. The truth is much less explosive, much less dangerous, much more stirred than shaken. I was simply, in simple terms, referring to my simple actions, busy. I can easily look to the end of classes as validation, and I will. Papers and papers and papers. Seven pages about fascism. Ten pages about the Taliban. Nine pages about my trip to New York. Now, that last one does seem like the odd one out. It even sounds fun to some. But, what if I told you *flashlight under chin, said in spooky voice* THAT IT WAS WRITTEN IN FRENCH!
Yes, French, the bane of my education. Many call it the language of love. I call it the language of required credits. I’ll one day appreciate its beauty, its flow, its bravado (ironically, a Spanish word), but today’s not the day. Neither will the next thousand. This is one of those cases where my education won’t come from school, where it won’t come from a teacher. That reminds me, French teachers always had the best disapproving glares. Beat out Science teachers for sure. English teachers never seemed to glare. Probably because of their love of poetry and happy endings. But that’s beside the point.
French, for me, will be a passion later in life. It will be a project of my own introversion, contained to what would be otherwise empty nights, where I’ll learn a couple concepts a day, taking it at my own pace, looking up words I want to know. No longer would I have to sit through the cinema, travel, and internet units that what seems like every French teacher goes over, falling behind and eventually giving up altogether. It’ll be my own pet project, perhaps with the promise of Paris to motivate me. I would say visiting Quebec would be a motivation as well, but I’d guess the most French I’d use there would be ordering poutine. I mean, poutine is good, but it’s not “learn another language” good. Okay, it might be. I’ll have to reevaluate my life priorities/deliciousness line graph soon.
But anyways, French was just one factor in the “A-paper-lypse Now” bonanza I had going on. Other stuff happened. Three times I saw the rise of the sun, which is simultaneously an inspirational, zen-like experience and an indication that you’re a bad decision-maker.
Oh, I also performed in two improv shows. One in the Vanier ballroom for the Impulse Improv Festival and the other at Improv Monday’s at Rowan’s Roof. Both times with my controversially named improv group, Techno Church. We came up with the name from our rehearsal space, which was conveniently located between a funky techno dance class and choir practice, thus spawning the demon child that is…Techno Church.
So that’s my excuse. I was caught up in relentless academia (a favourite word of mine) with a splash of comedic improvisation to lighten the mood. And while I look back at the totality of what kept me in lockdown mode for a good month, I simply wonder how this exam period I’m stepping into will be any different. With that, I’ll simply add this,
I’ll see you on the other side, friend.
Alright, Evan’s blog post song. I know you’ve waited a while so I hope this one will do. I know it’s long, but stick with it. I think you’ll like it. Enjoy.