23- 03- 09 Irony

You have to forgive me for spurting aimless pieces of writing man but writing sometimes becomes to me something like therapy. Nothing interesting has been happening of late. things are getting into a bit of a boring monotone. Life doesnt suprise me these days. My parents are getting older i think and that scares me a bit.

Work is as shitty as ever. I don't know where i want my life to head. I have interests and am inclined to a particular area of academic study at least for now, but what the hell im gonna do with my studies, as in tranfer it into a career, i don't know.

The future looms up dark and foreboding and there is nothing to keep me distracted from it in the present. My boss has become more of an asshole of late and so has the company that i work for. That is good in a way because that may ensure i don't get too comfortable working here, it'll keep me motivated to get out.

This is a freaking diary-ish post and im wondering why i would publish this. On saturday night, a beach run. About two lengths of the whole of Mt. Lavinia beach with a friend. The beach is crowded. There are girls, boys, couples, families, dudes walking in their underwear under the false premise that they look like swimming trunks, same dudes drunk and rolling on the sand. Up past JoJo's a bunch of guys in beach shorts and t shirts are killing crabs, or at least they are trying. The crabs are fast and run around like greased tuk tuks with jet engines. Hitting them with cricket bats is like swatting flies with your bare hands. Hurts the bat and the sand, not the crab.

We leave the beach and get some juice. Banana, papaya and orange, with ice-cream and smoke a cigarette or two. And in a sudden flash of insight i realize that a cigarette feels the best right after a long beach run, now isn't that ironic?