So I’m apparently into self-torture and mental masochism because I’m writing about Vancouver for my long essay.
Part of the reason is because I can’t write in the first place and so my original idea got scrapped.
Another part of the reason is that I’m dumb and can’t think of anything else to write about.
But I think the main reason is because even though I’ve written quite a bit about grad school here on my blog, I’ve yet to really write about my relationship with the city of Vancouver itself. I’ve yet to really write about how my walking routine probably saved my life up there. And I feel like I need to write about those things.
I doubt that a final essay in an intermediate non-fiction class is the place to do so, but hell, I don’t have anything else and this has been pressing against the forefront of my mind for quite some time now.
So that’s that.
In other news: this semester needs to die.