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Week Four: Monday
Who: Beau and open
Where: Library
When: Monday Afternoon
What: Beau is working on class work, and it is going...so so.
Beau was lurking again, toward the back of the library and out of the way of others and silently contemplating his class notes. For a moment he wondered if he should have just stayed in school, gone to a university and then followed his dream. But then he imagined nothing would have turned out the same, and instead of being…here, he would have become some poor banker that stamped papers all day and wished the world would just come to an end already. Or at least that was how he’d have seen it. Perhaps it would have been worse? His father would have liked him to be a pianist, playing for the Paris Symphony, playing someone else’s music (a very dead someone else at that.) The idea was equally dull and unwelcome. A musician was much more than a puppet in his opinion, when all they played were someone else’s pieces. Even if they weren’t great, it was better to write one’s own, in his humble opinion anyway.
But none of that had anything to do with his English class, not that writing an essay in English was his idea of an entertaining afternoon either. He would have rather found his way to the music room, played his guitar a bit, maybe try his hand at writing again (getting back on that horse was proving far more difficult than expected.) But no, he was here trying to remember what certain English words meant without resulting to an English to French dictionary. Would have been easier if he could have just written it in French. Honestly.
“The school should be run in French,” he muttered to himself, carefully writing out the word ‘therefore’ on his paper with a bit of a face. He wasn’t even sure ‘therefore’ was the right word, but it certainly seemed like a phrase English speakers liked to use in such things, so he couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work. “No, though. Everything has anglais. Quelle est si grand sujet anglais?“
Setting his pen down, he eyed the work with a critical eye. Heh. It read like someone who was not used to using English…or writing a paper. No wonder he always did poorly in school.
Where: Library
When: Monday Afternoon
What: Beau is working on class work, and it is going...so so.
Beau was lurking again, toward the back of the library and out of the way of others and silently contemplating his class notes. For a moment he wondered if he should have just stayed in school, gone to a university and then followed his dream. But then he imagined nothing would have turned out the same, and instead of being…here, he would have become some poor banker that stamped papers all day and wished the world would just come to an end already. Or at least that was how he’d have seen it. Perhaps it would have been worse? His father would have liked him to be a pianist, playing for the Paris Symphony, playing someone else’s music (a very dead someone else at that.) The idea was equally dull and unwelcome. A musician was much more than a puppet in his opinion, when all they played were someone else’s pieces. Even if they weren’t great, it was better to write one’s own, in his humble opinion anyway.
But none of that had anything to do with his English class, not that writing an essay in English was his idea of an entertaining afternoon either. He would have rather found his way to the music room, played his guitar a bit, maybe try his hand at writing again (getting back on that horse was proving far more difficult than expected.) But no, he was here trying to remember what certain English words meant without resulting to an English to French dictionary. Would have been easier if he could have just written it in French. Honestly.
“The school should be run in French,” he muttered to himself, carefully writing out the word ‘therefore’ on his paper with a bit of a face. He wasn’t even sure ‘therefore’ was the right word, but it certainly seemed like a phrase English speakers liked to use in such things, so he couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work. “No, though. Everything has anglais. Quelle est si grand sujet anglais?“
Setting his pen down, he eyed the work with a critical eye. Heh. It read like someone who was not used to using English…or writing a paper. No wonder he always did poorly in school.
