the girl who walked a thousand miles
October 6, 2002 03:30 PM

I am. So tired.

I am, also, currently skipping a rehearsal held at my house. It's the weekend that wasn't. This is a terribly silly thing to whine about, but it does say something important about the routine of life.

Seriously. It's funny how you can come to resent a weekendless week. Just because it doesn't meet your expectations. As if weekends are some sort of suburban entitlement.

[Sometimes I really relish my role as reporter back from the suburbs for my friends. I may overplay the observer of corporate life from the inside thing as a result.]

Texas was Texas-like. San Antonio is everything you'd think Texas would be if your image of Texas involved Disney or the mall. It's like that. Very hotel-ified. Very no one lives here.

People fall into their little river. Drunk people, I'm sure. You have an area of your town where all the former fraternity boys take their dates for drinks and overpriced food, right? Imagine that. Plus, all of the walking paths are right up against a shallow, mud-bottomed river. No barrier, no fence or anything.

Well. At least I can actually remember the Alamo, now. Not quite in the way I remember the Wren Building (sort of Oh, God. More tourists?) but not entirely unlike, either. The Alamo served as both starting point and sweaty endpoint of my half-mile walk each day.

I walked a lot. I learned some things.

I am. So tired.

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