To Do:
*Take pants to dry cleaners
*Stop buying pants that have to go to the dry cleaners
*Buy milk. Demi-baguette. Waffles. Champagne.
*Study for French Grammar midterm.
*Stop opening my mouth.

So today I had my archaeology class-- the one in which I am the only non-French person. After class it occurred to me that I needed to talk to the professor (this is the one who is only about 4 years older than me) about my final grade in this class-- he told me at the beginning of the semester I don't have to do an oral in-class presentation like the rest of the class, but he wanted me to still do a presentation OUT of class-- for only him, instead of the whole class. This is amazing, and I thank him from the bottom of my heart for this. Anyway, I realized I didn't know when he wanted me to do it-- so I stayed after to ask him. I didn't think to formulate what I was going to say before I opened my mouth-- I was in a hurry, and hoping it would just come to me. Oh, how naive. The professor doesn't speak English. I still have trouble articulating things in French. Add to this the fact that I am beyond freaked out about speaking to people in my age bracket in French, and you have a flipping-out Blair biting her lips and trying desperately to think clearly enough to not sound like a complete fool.
Basically, the conversation was a complete failure. First I called him "tu"-- the casual form of "you," suitable for friends, animals, children I babysit, or the bartender at my internet cafe-- a pretty rude thing to do to a professor who, although he is only 5 years older than me, still has the decency to call me "vous"-- the formal you. Then I froze up because of that... and couldn't figure out at all what I was trying to say in ENGLISH, much less French. And as I tried to stutter through it, I recognized immediately The Look on his face. The Look is something which you have probably never seen, but have probably made before when non-native English speakers stop you to ask you to take a picture of them. The Look basically says, "What in the world is this kid trying to say? WHY would they give her a visa if she can't even speak? And why did she just confess her love to me?" Because by that time I had lost all hope of knowing what I was saying, and probably did (quite by accident) tell him I loved him or some such ridiculous thing. And suddenly the language barrier seemed insurmountable again-- and much less romantic than in Love Actually, when the British guy learns a dozen Portuguese words and sweeps the maid off her feet. It was BAD. I haven't been that misunderstood since... oh, I had to call Air France the day after getting here to try to find my bags.
Maybe he'll give me an A just because he feels bad for me...
Oh well. I do know how oil paintings were made during the Renaissance, though. And I now know the name of those little tiny cracks in Old Master paintings. "Frotti."
So take that, University of Paris!
~B