Okay, I snap! I can't take it any longer: I hate the EII! There I said it! I wish it were otherwise, but -no, Sir!- it isn't. For those of you who don't know what the EII is and who care, it's my school, the place to which I drag my feet -and the rest of my body along with them- every effing weekday. I like languages. That's an understatement: I love 'em! If I want to do something of the short period of light between two dark ends (i.e.: life) I've been given, I should like very much to be in the language business... And I thought the EII, being the closest to my home and being so highly-ranked amongst European schools, would hold the perfect opportunities for me. Well -time to wake up!-, it doesn't. Most language classes are decent, some I'll say are even inspiring, but the others are just a pretext for obnoxious, one-dimensional and basically dull characters to teach and spread a thick fog of despair onto us, students.
It's my second year, so I'd have thought that I could compensate what classes lacked on friendship. No way, Jose! I've been transferred -without anybody's signifying me- to a group populated by some of the most unpleasant twats in the Universe (or it is merely my being petty, again...). As a result, I get to see people I really respect scarcely and I'm stuck in my corner in class because I can't stand the psychological problems of my colleagues (they've got to have a deranged mind to act as they do).
Otherwise, everything is all right, if you except my missing most of my budo classes to study for exams I'm quite sure I'll fail. 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'... And I'm mostly bored and indifferent to what happens around me (I'm not saying I'm being egotistic!).
Yet, on the plus side, my brother-in-law succeeded in retrieving my photographic film from my camera. When the photographs are developed, I'll have something funny to do: look at them all the time...
Well, this entry was a big nuffin, but I do feel a bit relieved... Dunno why, but I remember a limerick I wrote against some daft person while I was in Oxford. It goes like this:
There is a lad from Czech Republic
Whose arse I'd like very much to kick.
He knows what we must wear
To have class, to have air.
That stupid lad from Czech Republic!