So, I'm not going back to China just yet. I got a job for a little thinktank in Harvard Square, thanks to one of my classmates from Oberlin, who I ran into completely by chance when I went to play wiffleball down the street one Tuesday night, because kung fu was closed that week. Go figure. I'm writing a paper on journalism in China, which isn't particularly exciting for me, but which is exciting for my bosses, who are paying me, so that's good enough for me. Hopefully once I get through this paper, I will think of a more exciting topic, and maybe, perhaps, will genuinely enjoy my job. At any rate, I'm looking for another apartment. I was thinking of moving out to Allston with my friend Pat, but it's too hard to find a two-bedroom apartment for a reasonable price, and on second thought, it's actually pretty convenient being out in Davis on the red line. I'm scouring Craigslist for available rooms, and this time I will make extra sure to check for pee-stained mats in the bathroom before I sign a lease.
Kung fu has been going really well, which is mainly the reason I'm trying to convince myself to shutup and stay here. I got promoted to brown belt, which means I get to lead exercises, help teach, and learn the secret touch of death. I also came back from China with the most uncomfortable tension in my legs, which I felt was making me walk funny with my feet turned out, and I seem to have finally worked some of that out.
I still feel pretty lame about hanging around here, and I'm a little concerned that secretly harboring such pent-up hatred for my housemate for such a long time is causing me to become schizophrenic, but God works in mysterious ways and whatnot, so until next time, it's cheese and ice-cream and hotdogs for me.
Kung fu has been going really well, which is mainly the reason I'm trying to convince myself to shutup and stay here. I got promoted to brown belt, which means I get to lead exercises, help teach, and learn the secret touch of death. I also came back from China with the most uncomfortable tension in my legs, which I felt was making me walk funny with my feet turned out, and I seem to have finally worked some of that out.
I still feel pretty lame about hanging around here, and I'm a little concerned that secretly harboring such pent-up hatred for my housemate for such a long time is causing me to become schizophrenic, but God works in mysterious ways and whatnot, so until next time, it's cheese and ice-cream and hotdogs for me.