I suppose I'm avoiding some type of internal conflict by trying to keep myself at work so much. That's what workaholicicism ...is about? Umm... I feel like changing the subject.
So, most everyone I feel like I have gotten to know and be comfortable with have moved away from rochester in the past six months. That's a drag.
But, it's also an impetus to work a fuckload of hours and save some money towards getting myself out of here too.
Cause that's the good thing to do, right?
I watched Billy Elliot last night and cried. The part where he got into the school. I feel like there was something that I could have done when I was younger to have gotten myself into a better place by now. But, I didn't like dancing back then, I don't think. I do now, I think.
So I run. That's nice. It's better than not, for me.
I found out that I've been eating way too much protein. And not drinking enough water. The two variables don't have great consequences during and after anaerobic activity. Kind of feels like I got beat up by some gorillas. Or skinheads. Skinhead gorillas with books.
That's the best sentence I ever wrote.