first_imgI didn’t approach anyone under-aged.  What I meant with this title, today,  is:  I’m an adolescent. I wish I hadn’t turned twenty in January, then I’d still be legitimately teenaged. So yeah, I’ve begun to learn how to play the guitar. And I’ve stretched beyond making shitty songs on garageband ( and now can congratulate myself on making shittier, beatless songs on William, my guitar. And I really did not approach anyone at all. I wrote that so that you’d read my blog.** *FRENCH LESSON Je ne suis pas – I don’t follow To follow – Suivre (intransitive verb) Je ne suis pas un homosexuel – I am not a homosexual Etre – To be (mostly a transitive verb) Oh, and ok, I did sleep in a bar in Brussels, but really that was not half as planned as the other of my rebel activities. I went to a Smashing Pumpkins concert. It was really noisy! Those flashing lights were thorns in my retinas! There were no trains back to Liège, so the obvious way out was to find a youth hostel. We got there and it cost 24 Euros each and one of us decided that was a bit steep so we went into a Celtic-disco bar (yes they do exist) that played nineties club music at a horrid level. I fell asleep on a bench, Claire and Alan keeping watch: Mr Sleaze: Excusez-moi? Alan: Oui? Mr Sleaze: Tu es un homosexuel? Alan: Je ne suis pas. * Mr Sleaze: Toi, toi, tu es un homosexuel? Alan: Je ne suis pas! Mr Sleaze: Aahr yooo zo homosexuelle? Alan: Je ne suis pas un homosexuel. Mr Sleaze: Ah, pardon. Mr Sleaze then attempts to touch my backside while I sleep but Claire glares at him and he edges off. Claire: As far as sleazes go, he was very restrained. He seemed quite afraid to touch your bum. I’ve begun learning about the world’s current affairs, and begun Couch Surfing. And I finished yet another book I don’t have to read, and have got plenty of photos developed, and have cooked many merry meals, and seen films, so many films! and have made more plasticine figurines, and have listened to more story tapes, and have advanced in my painting.  Now I’m becoming border-line preteen. center_img This year abroad shabang is letting me catch up on those years I spent (wasted? no, no) studying and getting in to Oxford. And, alright, I got a slot in a night-club. Yep, I’m in a threesome pseudo-indie girl dj-ing “thing” (what are they called?). Apparently, I’m a “Super HUMBLE Bitch” and truly starting to regret agreeing on that name. No really, it wasn’t me who came up with it. And, yeah, I may have co-graffitied the wall of a bank with acrylic paint. (Oh, this is not true of course). Claire and I have been wanting to do this for a while, but at present it is half finished and it is quite hard to make-out that it’s a girl with a friendly monster. A man stuck his head out and shouted at us, he said he’d call the police so we ran off. ** I have fond memories of that sticker in the girls’ loos of the Lower Reading Room at the Bod: “Sex Sells… So Do Books!”last_img read more