What they don't teach you in school!

Heyyy this is my second post!  I'm kinda a big deal, ok.  I don't normally commit to anything for this long, so just recognize how privileged you are to read such a literary masterpiece.  I'm doing this for selfless reasons, really.  I feel the need to share my story, my struggles, and my perseverance with the world.  I only hope that I can help people and make the world a better place with my experiences abroad.  And to kick this suckaaa off, it's important I explain the French language and all its glory...

To describe my struggles with the French language would require audiovisual reenactment to capture the series of emotion, which many times manifest themselves in incoherent babble.  The initial trauma of being asked a question in a foreign language sets off the uncontrollable chain reaction of sounding like a fool.  I almost always follow the presented question with a looooong uncomfortable pause, during which I try to figure out why the person is using such fancy words and syntax.  In defeat, I normally rely on the French word I use the most: Comment.  At this point, the person settles on two possibilities: either I am an idiot or I am American (how they are so accurate with this perception is beyond me... Maybe it's my "hyyyyper cool" style).  At any rate, the person will repose their question in a simpler, dumbed-down way.  Sometimes they will ask the question in English, signaling a complete loss of hope for my French abilities.  I don't protest it.  However, if I can understand the question, I proceed with multiple uncomfortable sounds, hoping to casually buy some time to think.  To those who know me, you know my, um let's call them mannerisms, can last perhaps too long.  These hesitations are prolonged enough to merit a sympathy-professed head nod.  In cases such as these, I resort to the all-powerful phrase for a quick exit: Je ne sais pas.  It never fails.

French 101: How to quickly kill a conversation and get the efffff out of there.  Lesson learned.