I’m a genius. I’ve known this for some time but due to an overdeveloped sense of empathy for all the people way more stupider than me, I try not to talk about it too much. So it is indeed surprising that I’m not yet fluent in French. Maybe I’m subconsciously dialing my intelligence down a notch. I don’t want the locals to be intimidated by how fast a Canadian woman can master the bon usage of one of the most ridiculously complicated languages invented by man. I don’t mean ‘man’ as in human, I mean man as in male because there’s no way a woman came up with that mess. She wouldn’t have had time.
Anyway, now that my manuscript has finally been sent off it’s time for me to get back to the task of verbs and partitive articles. I know it’s time because people (Elodie) have been telling me that my French has relapsed and needs to go back to rehab. Everybody knows how much I love French. And everybody knows how it flows off my tongue with no effort at all. Now everybody knows that I’m a big fat liar.
Christ almighty, it’s some friggin’ hard. I think at this point it would just be easier to move to Italy and start over. At least I’d have a chance with the Italian R sound plus Berlusconi’s gone and that makes everything less difficult. Things are so bad on the French front that I actually unearthed Neil’s Italian textbooks yesterday just so I could practice saying some foreign words properly. Non-geniuses may not immediately recognize the wisdom of this strategy but a fine mind works in mysterious ways.
In the bag with the Italian books I found just the thing for one as gifted as myself. From the producers of the award winning …
comes the exciting new holiday blockbuster …
This is a timely discovery as my response, “I don’t know what in the jesus you’re saying to me because instead of actually learning French I spent a whole bloody year writing about how hard this goddamn language is. So suck me arse,” has become predictable given its frequency of use.
Ah yes, The Easy Way. It turns out that all this time I had been doing it the hard way. Not surprising, that’s how most geniuses roll. Psychiatrist brainiacs in particular have a tendency to make things more complicated than they need to be. But if I hadn’t thought of studying Italian to improve my French I never would have found this book. They don’t call me Madame Einstein for nothing.