It’s a rainy July here. It has kept me from my natural anti-depressant: jogging. It wasn’t raining yesterday afternoon, but I wasn’t able to jog then because I was busy. No, whats the word that also ends with a y and describes me? Lazy.
The sorts of things that a lot of people in my generation seem to do a lot, and thus I assume they find fullfilling, like drinking and dancing and drinking, don’t cut it for me. And I’m pretty lucky that at 25 I’ve seen alot of they world. But it is all starting to look the same. For fucks sake I’ve seen an H&M in Beijing, a quarter of a mile from the Forbidden city. C’mon China, are you a xenophobic, communist country or aren’t you? There’s probably a Gap Kids on the plains of what once was Xanadu. Where can I go to fullfill my unrelenting need for change? That is one reason why I am considering the Peace Corps. (I realize talking about joining the Peace Corp is probably like talking about the plot of that book you’ve had knocking around in your head for years: don’t do it.)
Tonight my co-workers and I went to an Outback (something you’d not catch me dead doing in the states out of a false sense of self-righteousness and taste). It was delicious, and I ate a lot of rare steak and ribs.
Tonight, the paranthesis rule (!)
