Reason to swear like a trucker

Today... marks 365 days since I began my French training nightmare.

DAMN, SHIT, F%$&.

That would be:

One whole year of my life that I will never get back.

One year that I will never be able to account for.

One year that I could have spent contributing to the improvement and well-being of your government.

One year that I spent mostly in tears over my inability to grasp the second official language of this country.

If that doesn't make you swear at yourself, I don't know what does.

These last 365 days have been pretty damn depressing.... I have felt sorry for myself more times in this year then I have in my entire 26.96 years of existence. The crying that ensued over trying to learn this damn language these past 52 weeks was ridiculous... even I can admit that, but you just don't know it feels until you've been there.

Speaking of tears.... excuse me while I shed a few more:

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I promise to be back tomorrow in better spirits, but for today I will bathe in my own self-pity... and swear like a trucker to cope with the significance of this sad day!