If I were to translate the topic I’m supposed to be reading now, it would be something along the lines of, “Incorrect Position of Sexual Organs”. The textbook has no pictures, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, because my imagination tends to run with reckless abandon.
Imagination or no imagination, I’m inclined to do a little bit of random blogging because this chapter is only nine pages long. Quite a treat, I would say.
1. I realized that I never blogged about my trip to Myanmar, and that’s just sinful. No credit cards, no mobile network coverage, dodgy “unofficial” money changers and a 2km walk uphill to Shwe Dagon Pagoda in the rain where there’s no proper sidewalks. I can’t believe that slipped my mind.
That's where we were headed to on foot. My idea, naturally.
2. I am such a sellout. I’m pretty sure about two years ago, I was ranting on and on about finding Twitter and the need for people to tweet every bloody thing they do utterly ridiculous. Now, I have a Twitter account and I’m on it more than I am on Facebook. My cousin Hera called me a “conformer to society” but completely understood when I said I was following sex-bloggers. Sometimes I wonder what sort of impression I leave on that 17- year old. Truth be told, I’m having lots of fun on Twitter because I’ve made it a point not to follow anyone I know from my uni or school. Part of the quarter life crisis nonsense I’ve mentioned before. Wait, I seem to have lost the plot. All I wanted to say was I’ve been following some really interesting people, especially bloggers (erotic and otherwise) and I’m pleased to say that I have a swamp of good blogs to read nowadays.
3. I am seriously considering going somewhere for my next winter holidays. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’ve been in Moscow for almost 6 years and I’ve never gone anywhere besides home. The problem mainly lies in the fact that I like being in places, I loathe getting there. I must be such a disgrace to my Nanna, the woman traveled around Europe alone at the age of 65. At 25, I’m sitting on my wobbly ass complaining about wanting to go places and not actually going. I’ve been leaning towards visiting London, but we’ll see where my bank balance takes me.
Okay. The remaining five pages are giving me dirty looks. Till the next short, visually disturbing chapter.
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