Well, I have to say: if I thought it was funny having the rooms I needed for research be unaccessible on Monday, today was DOUBLY funny.
This morning, I opted to go to the library at the Centre Pompidou because I needed to be in the area anyway (to pick up contact lenses... why oh why do I have to spend money on such boring things when there are so many fun, exciting things that I would rather be spending my money on? Like Body Shop lotion, for example?). Sooo... I waited in line for an hour in the rain, got into the library, checked out where my books would be, got a little confused, figured it out, then noticed that, strangely, the entire section - Languages and Litterature, for the curious - where my books should be was PLASTIC-WRAPPED. Just like Kathy Bates in "Fried Green Tomatoes." The whole damn section of books was just wadded up in Saran Wrap. The books, of course, are not available until June 27 - at which date I assume somebody will fun with scissors and will open up that plastic party. In the meantime, I can't use that damn library for shit.
It's funny in retrospect, but at the time - over two hours after I had set out on my researching quest - I really just wanted to cut someone. Deep. But instead I laughed out loud, kind of a maniacal laugh, I admit (and a little too loudly in the quiet library) because seriously? Can I have any worse luck when it comes to Parisian libraries? First it was the psycho bitch at one library, then the unavaiable rooms at the other, and now it's plastic-wrapped sections within the library? Wha?
So ha ha ha, giggle giggle giggle. In the end, Amazon just got some more cash out of me because the effing libraries are no help.
At least this way, I'll get to read the books in English.
The good news, however, of this pitiful story, is that I found one measly little book that related to my topic (in the philosophy section, which was conveniently NOT plastic-wrapped). Oddly, although it gave me no information whatsoever on my topic, it had a kick-ass bibliography and I am soon going to be partying with all the linguists my professor taught us about in class - who also happened to have written useful pieces on my topic. Swanson, Grice, Austin, Searle. In my head, they look like the walking shadows on the cover of the Reservoir Dogs poster. Badass linguistics, yo.
(Dude, I'm just doing whatever works to get me motivated. Let me use the Tarantino technique if it means I will get this paper done.)