I am in real bad mood. I know I did it to myself by staying up to late and then having French at 8:30 this morning, but it is still everyone else's fault, especially the French teacher's. Oh it was terrible. Last night I thought I was about to go to bed there was just a quick form I needed to fill out online...or so I thought.
For applying to law school I need to get what is called a 'Dean's Letter,' amusing not written by your Dean, but rather by random people in the pre-law office it is just suppose to say that you didn't have any disciplinary issues while at Columbia and they don't think you are too messed up in the head for law school (possibly an advantage for a lawyer in my opinion). But because they don't know you they want you to fill out an online form. It was way too long for what this letter is going to be. I had to list every job, internship, club, and organization I had been involved with since freshmen year giving the exact dates of involvement, whether or not I was paid, what I did, and what my title was. It wouldn't it have bothered me as much if I hadn't already given this information at least twice already in the form of my resume and actual app. and if they had put it in a form where I could have cut and pasted the info, but that sure as hell didn't happen. No, it took forever and I know they won't use even a quarter of it. Then at the end was I was burned out they wanted two paragraphs asked why I wanted to be a lawyer. Now that may seem, fair but most law school don't even ask that and IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE LETTER, which they explicitly say is not a letter or recommendation.
So it was after all of this that I got up to go to French. Not the best mix. I already have an axe to grind with the French teachers here because of the placement test. I hate placement tests that are super hard followed by classes that don't teach you anything that would help you to do better on that test next time around. Case in point, for our placement test we had to transcribe a report on a conference of Francophone speakers in Budapest and write an essay about the right of the Berlin opera to put on a controversial play, but then for the first two weeks of class we are asking each other what we would take with us if we were stranded on a desert island. WHAT? Also, somehow the French teachers can't understand a word I say, especially when it is the right answer. All of this might be fine, despite making me want to curse out the teachers in Russian, if I hadn't had the best pronunciation and speaking ability in my summer classes. Yes I am a pompous ass, but its true. Hating France so bad (shakes fist). Basically to reenact French today you should picture me with the most irritated, frustrated look on my face you have ever seen plus me glaring at the French teacher the whole time. The truce between me and France is over.