Salut, tout le monde! Aujourd'hui, je vais écrire en français. Je veux découvrir si je peux, mais, déjà, il est très difficile. Je n'ai pas pris cette classe en... eh bien, je l'ai pris en mon dixième année. Donc maintenant, c'est quatre années. Après mes essais cette semaine, je vais utiliser Rosetta Stone pour améliorer mon français. J'espère que ça marchera. o.0 Bien que je devrais se concentrer sur mes devoirs... meh. J'ai des temps. Je veux vraiment apprendre de français. Je veux sera bilingue. Puis, je serai impressionnant! :D
Maintenant, je dois sortir. Je ne peux pas écrire plus. Je ne sais de beaucoup. Au revoir!
Thursday 31 January 2013
Friday 25 January 2013
Rant About a Book
Okay, so instead of studying like a good little student for my physics and calculus test this friday, I decided to read some contemporary romance (mostly because I've already read every urban fantasy book imaginable). Then I realized I had read Lisa Kleypas so much that I had actually memorized passages. So it was time to go on the internet and search for recommendations of authors like Lisa Kleypas.
One author that kept coming up was Susan Elizabeth Philips. Ugh. All I can say, now that I've tried reading one of her novels, is that I wish I could somehow transport inside the internet and STRANGLE the people who said she was ANYTHING like Lisa Kleypas.
So, deciding to read one of her books, I picked up a novel about this heroine who's a Physics Ph. D, and professor at Burberry who wanted to get a baby of her own (yeah, I know—the smart girl stereotype of wanting to be a housewife—as if society can't accept the fact that an intelligent woman will want to be independent), so she tricks a football player into getting her pregnant. Then he finds out, goes all ballistic about "his child being born a bastard" (excuse me, Ms. Philips, do you know what century this is??) so he demands they get married despite them hating each other and being miserable for... well basically until the last ten pages when they "magically" fall in love and live happily ever after. Yeah, I know the plot is really stupid, but it could have been at least a little bit believable. Also, before that, he threatens to sue her ass for full custody unless she marries him—so she, being the strong and smart physics professor... agrees meekly? Cue rant.
What.... I just can't... HOW does this make sense?? If it had been me writing the story, I would have made the heroine say, "Sure, try to sue my ass for full custody. We'll see how far you get. I'm the mother of this child. Every jury in this country will go on my side—plus I have a steady career, while you're just an old football player who won't last that much longer, the way you're aging." Instead, she acts scared and trapped, as if she's some fifth century woman, and basically agrees with everything he says, "because she was wrong in tricking him in the first place."
You know, I hate books like these, where the woman always has to be the humble, modest, and the truthful person in the relationship (oh, and let's not forget being completely virginal—or just having slept with one other person). I mean, why can't she be the bitch, for once?
Nooo, because it's the bitch who always gets her comeuppance, while the chauvinistic bastard can just keep carrying on with the 20-year-olds, and he'll just sound like he "needs someone permanent in his life."
Oh, and, by the way, I am twenty years old (well, very nearly) and the thought of having sex with some guy older than 30 physically disgusts me. But, for some reason, the old assholes don't seem to understand that, continually trying to hit on me in clubs. Like, honestly, what the fuck makes you think I'd do anything with you?? I feel like playing the song "Dinosaur" by Kesha whenever one comes nearby.
I mean, I can take someone ten years older than me. But no more. My night school teacher was really hot, and he was 29—which was ten years older than me, at the time (although most of my classmates thought he was around 26—guess I'm just attracted to younger-looking guys). Okay, I'm going off-topic here. Back to the point.
Yeah. So the male protagonist keeps going on about how she's "so old" (when he thinks she's twenty-eight—oh, and, by the way, he's 36). Then gets even angrier when he finds out she's actually 34.
Seriously?? Like, seriously?? He talks about how he likes women "when they're still fresh." Just so you know how much of a douchebag the male character is. And Ms. Philips wrote him that way!
I mean, I know Lisa Kleypas writes chauvinistic heroes as well, but they're just chauvinistic in the way that they need all the control, and they like taking care of the heroine. They don't complain about the age, intelligence, whatever, about the character. In fact, they encourage those characteristics. And since romance novels are just basically porn for female readers, I don't mind the male having the control. Okay, well, most of the time. No, some of the time. Well, if I trust them enough to that point (which might take around a decade of dating). But, whatever, that's my own trust issues. The point is, I can't EVER believe Susan Elizabeth Philips was compared to Lisa Kleypas (especially in her contemporary writings—in which the male characters are far less chauvinistic than in her historicals).
So, yeah. I feel a lot better now.
All that's left is to burn that half-rate excuse of a romance book.
One author that kept coming up was Susan Elizabeth Philips. Ugh. All I can say, now that I've tried reading one of her novels, is that I wish I could somehow transport inside the internet and STRANGLE the people who said she was ANYTHING like Lisa Kleypas.
So, deciding to read one of her books, I picked up a novel about this heroine who's a Physics Ph. D, and professor at Burberry who wanted to get a baby of her own (yeah, I know—the smart girl stereotype of wanting to be a housewife—as if society can't accept the fact that an intelligent woman will want to be independent), so she tricks a football player into getting her pregnant. Then he finds out, goes all ballistic about "his child being born a bastard" (excuse me, Ms. Philips, do you know what century this is??) so he demands they get married despite them hating each other and being miserable for... well basically until the last ten pages when they "magically" fall in love and live happily ever after. Yeah, I know the plot is really stupid, but it could have been at least a little bit believable. Also, before that, he threatens to sue her ass for full custody unless she marries him—so she, being the strong and smart physics professor... agrees meekly? Cue rant.
What.... I just can't... HOW does this make sense?? If it had been me writing the story, I would have made the heroine say, "Sure, try to sue my ass for full custody. We'll see how far you get. I'm the mother of this child. Every jury in this country will go on my side—plus I have a steady career, while you're just an old football player who won't last that much longer, the way you're aging." Instead, she acts scared and trapped, as if she's some fifth century woman, and basically agrees with everything he says, "because she was wrong in tricking him in the first place."
You know, I hate books like these, where the woman always has to be the humble, modest, and the truthful person in the relationship (oh, and let's not forget being completely virginal—or just having slept with one other person). I mean, why can't she be the bitch, for once?
Nooo, because it's the bitch who always gets her comeuppance, while the chauvinistic bastard can just keep carrying on with the 20-year-olds, and he'll just sound like he "needs someone permanent in his life."
Oh, and, by the way, I am twenty years old (well, very nearly) and the thought of having sex with some guy older than 30 physically disgusts me. But, for some reason, the old assholes don't seem to understand that, continually trying to hit on me in clubs. Like, honestly, what the fuck makes you think I'd do anything with you?? I feel like playing the song "Dinosaur" by Kesha whenever one comes nearby.
I mean, I can take someone ten years older than me. But no more. My night school teacher was really hot, and he was 29—which was ten years older than me, at the time (although most of my classmates thought he was around 26—guess I'm just attracted to younger-looking guys). Okay, I'm going off-topic here. Back to the point.
Yeah. So the male protagonist keeps going on about how she's "so old" (when he thinks she's twenty-eight—oh, and, by the way, he's 36). Then gets even angrier when he finds out she's actually 34.
Seriously?? Like, seriously?? He talks about how he likes women "when they're still fresh." Just so you know how much of a douchebag the male character is. And Ms. Philips wrote him that way!
I mean, I know Lisa Kleypas writes chauvinistic heroes as well, but they're just chauvinistic in the way that they need all the control, and they like taking care of the heroine. They don't complain about the age, intelligence, whatever, about the character. In fact, they encourage those characteristics. And since romance novels are just basically porn for female readers, I don't mind the male having the control. Okay, well, most of the time. No, some of the time. Well, if I trust them enough to that point (which might take around a decade of dating). But, whatever, that's my own trust issues. The point is, I can't EVER believe Susan Elizabeth Philips was compared to Lisa Kleypas (especially in her contemporary writings—in which the male characters are far less chauvinistic than in her historicals).
So, yeah. I feel a lot better now.
All that's left is to burn that half-rate excuse of a romance book.
Monday 21 January 2013
When You Get Caught Talking to Yourself
... Yeah. Not fun when people think you may just be a little out of it. Then again, I guess I am a bit. o.0
But, seriously. Who doesn't do it? Well anyone at least marginally sane, that is. Sometimes, I just feel like there's two people inside my head, and me:
But, seriously. Who doesn't do it? Well anyone at least marginally sane, that is. Sometimes, I just feel like there's two people inside my head, and me:
- The one that I rarely ever listen to—the one who always tells me to sleep on time (yeah, right—who needs sleep, anyway?) and do my homework on time, and learn how to cook so I don't waste like $300 a month (and that's on the low side) on ordering out food.
- And the one that I always listen to (despite my better judgement—see #1 for my better judgement)—the one that tells me to read and watch TV and surf the internet when I have a crapload of work due the next day, or even the next hour.
Work, as in a job that provides money, is something that I literally can't take for granted. I don't know why—maybe it's the fact that, when I was growing up, money was always an issue, and independence something difficult to find without the sufficient financial support. Whenever I go to work, though I know it's minimum wage and something that's not going to last forever—something that I shouldn't want to last forever, if I'm to aim my sights higher, I work harder than I do in any other area of my life. I'm always on time, I always do as many of my required tasks as I can, and, most of all, I concentrate and work hard on doing the best that I can. Maybe it's because it's minimum wage, and therefore I know I'm replaceable—easily and affordably.
Before I ever had a part-time job, I was incredibly lazy. In fact, there were weeks on end where I would do nothing except watch TV or read.
But school... that's something that's becoming somewhat of an issue. For years, I've had a really bad habit of not doing my work until the very last second, and it's gotten progressively worse. Now that there's the issue of the government loan hanging on my head if I don't do well, the pressure is increasing.
Before, I could just fuck off homework and do marginally well, or barely pass. And even if I didn't, well, I just told myself that there'd always be the next time.
I can't do that anymore. If I fail a course, that's around $800 per semester that I'm wasting. In fact, I already failed a course, and now I'm going to have to spend another $800 to take it in the summer. For someone who's saving up for braces (I mean, I'm 19 now—I really need to get them soon), that's a huge blow.
Not to mention that if I fail too many courses, or do far too badly, I'll get kicked out of university, and have to pay off the rest of my student loan—with nothing to show for it.
Not to mention that if I fail too many courses, or do far too badly, I'll get kicked out of university, and have to pay off the rest of my student loan—with nothing to show for it.
I really can't fail anymore. But now I have work on top of school, and somehow I need to balance that, along with improving my bad habits from the past couple years of complete laziness (or depression, depending on your point of view)—as well as starting to work out again, because I've gotten really fat ever since losing my bike in that accident.
The voice that keeps telling me to do better is growing progressively louder—to the point that I get caught yelling at myself, and muttering what needs to be done. Thankfully, that's only when I drink too much caffeine.
As you can tell from me typing this up at 1am in the morning, I may have had too much caffeine today. Although my customers didn't mind. They were far more talkative than usual—then again, so was I. But I am surprised they understood half of what I was saying, as I was talking too fast for even me to understand myself.
Sometimes, I feel I'm more productive when I'm yelling at myself and on a huge caffeine high. I really don't know why.
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