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After a stress-filled week, there might be much to write about, to ponder & to mesmerise. While all these things are fortes of mine, I am currently thinking about a package I received this week. The contents did not surprise me, given the fact that I was the one who sent the package to myself almost three months ago in Birmingham (it contained two jackets, a pair of white skinny trousers and two books, totalling 3 kilos of weight I didn't want to carry around any more at the time). When it arrived, the white trousers were missing, presumably taken by a poor postal worker who thought he could fit in them.
Before trying to sell me a credit card I didn't need, the clerk at the post office assured me it would only take 6 days to reach its destination. Post office clerks make bad prophets, I tell you. It is a bit fascinating that the package travelled a distance of 418 kilometres in 79 days, or 5,2 kilometres per day, or 0,22 kilometres an hour. What travels at 0,22km/h? According to Google, it's something in Japanese and it doesn't look pretty...
I could have walked faster from Birmingham to Ghent with my package in hand. Not that I could though, I was too busy with an internship that didn't give me any work and for which I thought I'd be getting work soon. Oh, the sadness! I'm looking for another internship now, gives me something to do. I've applied for one in Berlin, could be something different.
As I am about to end the first year of my MA degree in photography, I am half wondering if I shouldn't have done it in one year instead of two. Then I'd have been finished right now and we could have moved to Timbuktu for all we cared. Now there is just some obligations to be fulfilled before I can ask Wikipedia to tell me where Timbuktu is.
Well, it's easy to predict in hindsight... Still, one more year to go now. At this speed, I'll graduate when I'm 28. I remember a political party saying that everyone should work 45 years before they are entitled to retire. So I'd have to 73 for that to happen. And that's if I don't take a year off or get unemployed after next year, just work work work work. Fun.
Do you see why I will never save up for my retirement? (if not, you are forgetting what I once said about all that heroin I said I'd be taking when I turn 60).
Before trying to sell me a credit card I didn't need, the clerk at the post office assured me it would only take 6 days to reach its destination. Post office clerks make bad prophets, I tell you. It is a bit fascinating that the package travelled a distance of 418 kilometres in 79 days, or 5,2 kilometres per day, or 0,22 kilometres an hour. What travels at 0,22km/h? According to Google, it's something in Japanese and it doesn't look pretty...
I could have walked faster from Birmingham to Ghent with my package in hand. Not that I could though, I was too busy with an internship that didn't give me any work and for which I thought I'd be getting work soon. Oh, the sadness! I'm looking for another internship now, gives me something to do. I've applied for one in Berlin, could be something different.
As I am about to end the first year of my MA degree in photography, I am half wondering if I shouldn't have done it in one year instead of two. Then I'd have been finished right now and we could have moved to Timbuktu for all we cared. Now there is just some obligations to be fulfilled before I can ask Wikipedia to tell me where Timbuktu is.
Well, it's easy to predict in hindsight... Still, one more year to go now. At this speed, I'll graduate when I'm 28. I remember a political party saying that everyone should work 45 years before they are entitled to retire. So I'd have to 73 for that to happen. And that's if I don't take a year off or get unemployed after next year, just work work work work. Fun.
Do you see why I will never save up for my retirement? (if not, you are forgetting what I once said about all that heroin I said I'd be taking when I turn 60).
