That's french for naked. Unlike my high school nightmare, which was naked for french. Ignore all the recent posts about Pan Ams.. I struggled to keep up until about halfway through the Games when I decided that I liked my job and should attempt to keep it. But I'm a liberal; I wanted the option.
It wasn't my personal preference to put the posts on hold, but with work and training and an ever-questioning financially minded father, I figured I shouldn't burn any bridges. And since he's an engineer, he's rather staunchly against harming bridges. So, something had to give.
But alas, here you are and here I was whenever I posted this from my apartment. I don't know about you, but I am and was naked on my floor listening to Man Alone by Boy and Bear and drinking an - excuse my french press - amazing fucking tasse de café. The only thing about that will have changed by the time you read this is the song. And maybe my position on the floor because the sun is shining and burning my dangly bits.
Today's my first real day in the new city. But also the old city. And also the Forest City. I spent the better part of five years here when I was a little pup trying to figure myself, and others, out. I accomplished neither. But I earned a degree and temporary financial security, which puts me about a degree and a salary ahead of my time in Ottawa. I suppose I did gain "life experience" and "friendship" and "weight," so it wasn't a total loss. Certainly not regarding the weight.
By these standards London seems like it should be my lucky town, aside from having no one to train with and trying to fit a second job into a schedule that is becoming rather busy, what with all the naked/music/coffee time. In reality I've set some rather questionable goals for myself and it'll be pretty interesting to see how it all plays out in the next year or so. Goals are fun too; I played hockey for ten years and everyone I played with said they were a hoot and I'd be bound to enjoy one someday. But I march to the beat of my own drum. Besides, I could still achieve my very first this year, other than the one I drained five-hole on Atticus Holmes as it ricocheted off my skate and cost us a win in 2001. And while the Screen Craft Senators were never the same, my defensive skills and ability to withstand ridicule remain suspect.
So here's to the start of an unpredictable year with lofty goals and questionable decisions.
And coffee.
And clothes.
Just not on me.