#60, #62

Had a German exam yesterday. The language programs here are intensive, Eric Jao didn't lie.

(As an aside, I am compelled to say Eric Jao's full name whenever I speak of him. He has a cool last name.)

Japanese is a 5-day class, 6 credits. German is 4 days. I am working hard in German, and I think its going better than Spanish 101 did way back when. I'm off of German today, which means I have a nice stretch of time to update everything for the next week.

There's a Language House on campus. Every Monday for an hour, its inhabitants are forced to converse with the populous, I think. I stopped at the German and Japanese tables to check it out. I have a long way to go in both langs, but I was glad to at least stay afloat at the Japanese table. At the German table, Alex was able to help me out.

The Japanese House is a bit difficult to get into. The German one isn't. And, on top of that, there's a heavy gender gap in my favor if I got accepted.

#02, Entry 1.

An Awful Undertaking 

 

I couldn’t be sympathetic in this.

                “I don’t want to, and I can’t believe I have to rush home in traffic to go to a damn church.”

Then why are you going? I want to ask. Why are you still doing any of this? I want to yell that. But I sigh and stroke my chin instead. I look at the mirror outside the window, then at the road zooming underneath us. I fidget in my seat and try to look anywhere but at the steering wheel. Anywhere but her hands. Anywhere but her finger, with its fly-sized, tumorou,s rock banded around it. Always my eyes return to it.

                I had heard every doubt, fear, apprehension and uncertainty. And I had listened and feigned interest.   School and work was one thing; those I can empathize with. But as she sat there, whining about her troublesome engagement to the passionless rich kid, my ears were closed and my heart was cold. The pretense of apathy was the most I could do for this girl, the girl that I love. Then why did you say yes? I mouth the words. Every day I mouth those words, hoping to scream them at her, as though giving them to her were some great imperative. But I can never manage to utter them.

                I take a deep breath, and mess with my cellphone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her frowning at me. The words sink back into my bowels again.