South of Oakland
The days in class go quickly, but six or seven hours of absorbing new material certainly does twist the head. By the end of the day we're all sitting there with blank stares, albeit pushing buttons on our keyboards like good little techies. This barrage of (what is for me) new material is numbing and I'm sitting here after two Cerveza Coronas thinking “what am I doing at this keyboard when I could be stretched out in bed vegetating on television”? Why indeed? The room has cable. There are many choices at the push of a button for light weight modern entertainment. I click through them like a sugar freak frantically sucking on a diet soda. I am not certain all these choices lead to better television. I am an old fart carping like every old fart you've ever met or imagined. And it's only Tuesday. How embarrassing.
In addition to the two Coronas I had with dinner (a Chinese dinner consisting of Chinese chicken salad, not very good noodles and breaded sweet and sour chicken - I think it was breaded sweet and sour chicken: it was gooey, it was sweet and it tasted just fine) I've added a slight hangover and a back of mind conversation with Self bemoaning the amount of food I've eaten this evening. How unoriginal, this so familiar scene; down here, south of Oakland.