Feb. 26th, 2013

violetsnvalium: (Ms. Patsy Kelly)
At the moment I am being tested. This isn't a comment about stress or anything - I am literally being tested all over. Blood tests, pulmonary function tests, work competence evaluations, French language tests (that's next month and I am scared), English language tests (meh), maths tests (don't even ask)... I even had an IQ test, just for the hell of it. After this I am going to know every little thing about every little part of my body and mind.

The reason for all these tests - well, the mental ones, the physical ones are just because the doctors are trying to find out what the hell is killing me aside from Jagermeister - is that I am becoming a student again, after approximately nine sipillion years. This is very hard for me. I just spent a couple of minutes writing an email back to my new student adviser lady, trying to remember how you're supposed to start a formal letter. "Hey!" "Hi, how are you?" "Good evening!" Oh, yeah. It's "Dear" (orilly?). Which, by the way, is completely inappropriate if you think about it logically, but as with all formal thingies, you must never really consider it because it might be like the fluttering butterfly in chaos theory.

So I am doing two things this year: one is a professional certificate in management from the Open University, and the other is a BTS (brevet de technicien supérieur, pretty much the same thing) in management des unités commerciales, which luckily I can do through work-based learning rather than writing long essays in French. See, I speak French. No, I do. The thing is that in French, I have a cripplingly severe case of potty-mouth. Pretty much every sentence ends in "de mes couilles !" and I call everyone "mon frère", regardless of gender or social status. I am basically Ali G. I am taking a French language test called the DALF to prove that I am bilingual, and even though I am perfectly capable of chattering on in French for hours (and hours, and hours), there is a very strong possibility that I will blithely and cheerfully make an obscene comment about the examiner's mother.

This is all kind of scary to me. Essays! How in the name of God do people write them? I haven't written an essay since I was about fourteen, and I think it was about my summer holiday or something. But when the essay is something like "describe the various methods of communication to your line managers, staff and customers that you have used in your job and evaluate their effectiveness" (actual quote), I am thrown. My essay would say "Um, I just tell them what to do and normally they do it so I guess it works".

You people, though, you LiveJournal people, you all seem to get it. You're always all blabbering on about your PhDs and shit. HOW DO YOU DO IT? This is a real question. Tell me. GIVE ME YOUR KNOWLEDGE. How do you sit at a computer and actually write these things without just looking at cat videos and playing Minesweeper? Just thinking about it exacerbates my potty-mouth.



violetsnvalium: (Default)

August 2013


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