I would like to think over the years I have perfected the ‘resting bitch face’. Despite this a lone traveling gentleman at my hotel in San Francisco had the audacity to try and strike up conversation whilst I was sat at my laptop trying to complete a report and a long overdue blog post, stuffing cob salad in my face whilst trying not to get dressing all over myself. I suitably yet politely shut him down soon enough, however, it really does not suit to have to engage in pleasantries when one has boiled egg stuck to ones face.
Back to the original posting. I felt in the early days of writing this blog that I had to represent some literary genius and seek to place myself amongst intellectual and scholarly greats. Then as time went by I remembered – Emma, you’re a dick. Just be a dick. Its more true. And since then my posts have got shorter, less structured and what was it I called it, yes that’s it raw. This is raw writing, gritty and to the point. Alternatively known as written in haste at airports or between surfs, whilst intoxicated or whilst stuffing cobb Salad in ones face late at night in seedy ‘lone traveling salesman’ hotels. Nontheless, you know what, I’m happy with it. Without it I would forget all this stuff, since the one thing most true of all that I have written is that I have a shocking memory. Despite downloading Peak Performance brain training and sporadically being an avid trainer, my memory is shot. So good on me and thank me for preserving my memories for myself for the future. It was originally for you people (what do I mean ‘you people?’) but now it’s 100% for me to remember my own fantabulous adventures.
Loving life right now warts and all. Well that’s a mild lie. I am at the tail end of a series of trans American jaunts with work and some excessively late nights with self inflicted lack of sleep. So the truth is I’m kind of half asleep miserable right now BUT I know it’s not true misery rather short term running on empty. The joy this provides is that I walk into even more inanimate objects and cover myself in relentless bruises, since for some reason tiredness does not remove my urge to go everywhere faster without looking at what may be in my way. Current favorite bruise is across the entire instep of my left foot, how?, no idea but it sure hurts when running.
So long and fair well. The plane is about to take off and I am now San Fran bound. Later I shall tell some tales of the weekend of all stupidity and the weekend of my many losses.