Day 25 - Spanish Hot Cocoa

Winter's Coming
May 3rd, 2015

Today is the type of day where it’s too hot in the sun, and too cold in the shade. The kind of day where you don’t know what to wear. It’s a fine line between melting and freezing. I'm a living heater; I hate these days. With all the writing and editing that I do everyday, it's gotten to the point where I’m automatically dictating things as they happen. I’m walking around deciding how I will write down events in a more entertaining or descriptive way. For example: the opening sentence.

Up at 11, arrive at work for 12. "Work" is used rather loosely for this day. We have nothing scheduled, and there are no walk-ins. I hang around, talking with my.. uh.. I think he’s my manager.. Simon. He makes me a flat white/latte and we shoot the shit after setting the place up and cleaning. I play around on my phone while Simon and the Cook chat about the games that are playing on the various flat screens. I get cut at 1:15pm and head on back home.

After eating and messing around on the internet, I head over to the gym and do leg day (never skip leg day (I used to consistently skip it a lot and never really noticed)). I’ve really got to get my shit in gear and organize a bit more, as I keep wasting my days. Gotta get back to the lists and discipline that got me here in the first place.

I meet Australian-American Claire at San Churros, some strange churro/Spanish hot chocolate place. If you have a hardcore sweet tooth, then San churros is for you. The HC is thick, kind of like a syrup. Mine was watered down a bit with espresso and it was still almost like a cake batter. Nice once in a while, but kind of gross and will quickly make you feel sick. We shoot the shit and talk about psychology, American politics, and how she’s intimidated by the children she’s helping learn to read through her tutoring job*. We wander around downtown, check out some bottle-o’s and have a few laughs. I keep trying to wander through the corners of the city that I have yet to see because each place sometimes has a nice mural or strange thing that I’ve never seen before. Other times it’s just drunk aboriginal people screaming at me. Other times still, it’s just a boring back alley, which is actually the 2nd most common. No, the first is not being screamed at, that’s only happened a couple times.

Strangely Proud of this Shot
Night fell, and I returned home, made some ground beef, salad, and veggie pitas and watched John Oliver until it was time to go to sleep.

Today’s Padding: I’m still not used to saying “take away” and “toilets” instead of “take out” and “washroom.” I don’t see how it’s so confusing when I say washroom to know I mean the bathroom/toilet/water closet, but I suppose I should start changing it. I expressed this to British Ruby and I stand by it: Saying “they’re in the toilet” just seems so much more graphic. It’s one layer removed from straight up saying “they’re taking a shit," while “washroom” seems to afford that extra layer of mystique around the goings-on. As for “take away,” to me that’s either the message you took from a lesson, or A take away being taking back a compliment you just gave. Pretty sure the second one is just personal use, so don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense to you.

*: I'm going to say it: children's opinions are meaningless. Even in your early 20's, you're probably still a reflection of your parents. You shake those over time if you're lucky. This was my point as to why she shouldn't care if a room full of children hate her.

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