Hey there. I’d just like to let you know right of the bat that I’m not as (psychotically) angry as my last post might have persuaded you to think. This blog venture is part of an assignment I’m doing for a technical writing course. My initial reaction was the same as with all other writing assignments: anger and despair. I’m not saying I dislike writing (although that is often the case), I just have problem with writing anything on the spot (the pressure thing). I don’t even like signing passport forms at the police station because I always screw up the signature and end up looking like a retarded train robber on my passport (okay the train robber thing has nothing to do with the signature, it’s just a very bad photo).
Passports. I’m flying to New York in a couple of days and I’m nervous as hell. Not because I’m afraid of flying or crime or anything like that. I’m afraid I’ll get a toothache. Or diarrhea. Or that I’ll lose my passport/money/tickets. Anything that would screw up our five perfect days in a city I’ve always wanted to visit. Why is it that a grown man, perfectly capable of taking care of himself, turns into a paranoid child on mushrooms just as soon as you give him an opportunity to do something fun and worthwhile? When I’m bored I’m fine.
I’m sure I’ll get to the course material eventually. Meanwhile, think calming thoughts, think … manatee:
