Currently: At work. Shoes off. Chinese food for breakfast. Won ton soup. Sticky rice. Pork bun. Listening to Tegan and Sera.
Fan on. Wishing I were in bed.
Deep in the back of my head, on the back of my brain I can feel the residual smile from knowing that Muay Thai is better than boxing. Or MMA. It feels like my brain is bending. I love my sport.
When I think of the word comfortable I think of wrinkled covers. Ripples in a bed spread/comforter. Something slept in.
I like camaraderie. There isn't enough of that in my life. It's rare to find a group that can work well together. I often think about the activities I do, my complete dedication, appreciation, and love for them and how that conflicts with the contempt that I have for many of their participants. Rafting=I hate hippies. Climbing=I hate urban hippies even more. Muay Thai=I can't put my finger on who or what they are, but I just don't see myself connecting with any one of them. It has been this way for a long time. Since I was about fourteen. Maybe it is an American thing.
This has been your Friday rant.
My current favorite show: The Contender Asia (you can find it on Veoh)