i was just thumbing through a journal that i kept when i went to Paris as a foreign exchange student when i was a junior in high school.
in doing so, i made a rather troubling realization:
nine and a half years of college apparently made very little impact on my writing.
to illustrate, let's examine the following passage, which i promise to copy word-for-word, even if it is highly embarrassing.
i don't know what is up with this country, but there is definitely something screwy with the water. the 1st week i was here, the water in one of the bathrooms didn't work, and now the kitchen is broke. screwy. alright--so now we have no water w/ which to cook so we go to pizza hut. (a smiley face is drawn here, and it has a period after it, as if it is its own sentence). at french pizza hut there is cold fish with the heads still on it at the salad bar. (a frown face is drawn here). the pizza was pretty good. i was done eating way before everyone else--as usual, french people eat a lot, and i think they chew like every bite like a thousand times cuz they're REAL slow. so i'm just waiting and then i have to go potty, so i get up to go by myself, figuring, no big deal. i'm 16, i should be able to find a stupid bathroom. so i go, and i'm following all these signs that lead me through all these tunnels and down all these stairs and i'm just positive that the metro train is gonna come around the corner and i'll be killed. but, alas, i find the bathroom. so i go pee, and once i get back into the dungeon i realize that my undies are all twisted at the top and for some reason, lazy me decided to fix it right there instead of going into the bathroom. (no one else was around). so there i am, my jean dress pulled up, fixing my panties, when 3 hot guys, and one ugly one, walk out of the other bathroom. UGHHHHHHHHH...it like, sucked. or something. then they kept looking at me funny across the dining room. i really can't imagine why. after that we went to delphine's grandma's apartment, where i 4got my purse. piss. then we drove around Paris and it was night and it was really pretty.
so, i still ramble, i'm still sarcastic, and i still can't keep track of my purse.
my funniest stories still involve pee-ing of some sort.
i like to think my punctuation has improved a bit...
oh well, what's a girl to do?