Stupide.

Yesterday I got off the waitlist for biology and actually into the class. I walked to Boyle with my blue slip and handed it over to the woman with a sigh of relief. But she looked at me oddly, and then in a very abrupt voice she said, I have to issue you a verbal warning. I think my eyes stuttered. This'll put you at twenty credits, she told me. You can't petition classes when you're over nineteen credits. I nodded. I knew that. And then she looked at my transcripts.
Oh, she said.
And she signed my release form and wished me a good day.
Whoever said straight A's don't get you anything in life, never had straight A's.

After Winter term, I'm four classes away from being done.
But I just spent thirty minutes trying to construct a possible schedule that will include French, and it won't work. I am one French class away from having two years, and I refuse to drop it just so I can finish an associates. I can't do it. And it doesn't work. No matter how hard I drive myself into the ground next term, I can't shove five classes together again.
It is making me so mad.

Je suis en colère.

So here is to a possible summer with one class left because I don't just want to learn French. I need to learn French. And, I like it best of all.