My trip to Vegas
I got back from my five day long trip to Vegas the other day and boy do I hate that town. I would, although, recommend everyone to go on a vacation there for three days exactly. By the end of the trip, you will be so happy with the place you live and appreciate it so much more. You'd be happy if you lived in a slum in China compared to that hellhole. Everything about Vegas is fake. Fake entertainment, fake extravagance, fake tits and fake splendor. They have to fly in everything because they're in the middle of a goddamn desert. There are millions of gallons of water sitting around in Vegas at different hotel's pools and water show lakes. What do they do all day? Evaporate. What a waste. There was one hotel in particular that didn't have any doors on the front, so they blasted the AC until the sidewalk was 50 degrees... IN THE SUN. Why did they do it? So suckers could enter the casino, observe a slot machine and think "I might as well play some slots while I'm waiting". The town takes your money from the second you step off the airplane. They have slots at the airport and at every corner store you can imagine. Ahh, whatever.
If it weren't for the jugglers, I'd have gone crazy. Had a great time at the convention. Met everyone I wanted to meet, hung out with amazing people, juggled my heart out and won intermediate balls. Don't make this a big deal, because it's not. I competed against like five people in the entire nation and some of the guys at the convention, if entered in balls, would have mopped the floor with me. Oh well, I got some name recognition. The problem is that now I'm done, I want to practice more. Why can't I ever be satisfied with how good I am at juggling. I don't care about anything else in my life as much as juggling. I'm constantly thinking about it, thinking about new tricks I want to get, long term goals, routine organization, conventions and getting new props. When it comes to juggling, I need to shit or get off the pot. I need to do something along the lines of propose to juggling, marry myself for a life of happyness to juggling. It's what I do good and I only concentrate on it fifty percent of the time. Imagine if this were actually my life. I'm getting sad thinking about quitting everything and joining the circus, so let's move on.
Uh... summer's almost over, then it's back to Syracuse. Love/hate the move. Definantly hate college. It can suck a testicle.
Whatever, I need a life.
If it weren't for the jugglers, I'd have gone crazy. Had a great time at the convention. Met everyone I wanted to meet, hung out with amazing people, juggled my heart out and won intermediate balls. Don't make this a big deal, because it's not. I competed against like five people in the entire nation and some of the guys at the convention, if entered in balls, would have mopped the floor with me. Oh well, I got some name recognition. The problem is that now I'm done, I want to practice more. Why can't I ever be satisfied with how good I am at juggling. I don't care about anything else in my life as much as juggling. I'm constantly thinking about it, thinking about new tricks I want to get, long term goals, routine organization, conventions and getting new props. When it comes to juggling, I need to shit or get off the pot. I need to do something along the lines of propose to juggling, marry myself for a life of happyness to juggling. It's what I do good and I only concentrate on it fifty percent of the time. Imagine if this were actually my life. I'm getting sad thinking about quitting everything and joining the circus, so let's move on.
Uh... summer's almost over, then it's back to Syracuse. Love/hate the move. Definantly hate college. It can suck a testicle.
Whatever, I need a life.