Belgium was ranked the 10th happiest country in the world by Forbes.
Their criteria? Seventy six percent of Belgians are happy with their present life, and seventy five percent are content with the prospect of their future lives.
It’s funny, a while back Chicago was ranked one of the most miserable cities, and in a month I’ll be leaving here for a stay in Belgium. I’ll probably never want to come back.
Tot ziens!!!
It’s actually pretty depressing when people all around me are saying that come this Sunday, it’ll be the end of an era. We’ll no longer be defined by the classes we’ve signed up for, whether or not we made the Dean’s List or how many nights were spent studying the AP Stylebook and copy editing symbols. After 15-some years, I’m no longer a student. Suddenly we’re (GASP) adults!!
For some reason, this idea freaks most people out, and graduation seems to be more dreary than celebratory. But really, it’s not an ending. It’s a time to start my life the way I’ve wanted it.
It’s the beginning.
(Was that too dramatic? That seemed dramatic.)
A bit of footage I shot at a Murder by Death show/interview with Adam Turla and the attempted edit.
This is amazing.
By the way, Department of Eagles reminds me (Department of Eagles = Grizzly Bear = Pitchfork talk), I’m rather excited for Pitchfork’s ‘09 lineup. I was almost sold with Grizzly Bear’s appearance, completely sold with the announcement of Flaming Lips headlining and now I’m shitting myself (this is a good thing) after hearing that M83, Wavves, Black Lips and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are performing as well. Woops, there goes $60!!!
Yeah, so I live in the South Loop, suppp. It’s nothing to brag about really, and the excitement is at a minimum, despite the occasional Red Bull/taco seasoning theft at Jewel and crazy bitches getting their teeth knocked out after a screechtastic, deafening quarrel. There’s also this really odd homeless guy that I pass every morning on my way to class that manages to have a fresh Scooby Taylor-esque skat, of which is accompanied with a rather groovy hip swivel thing (he’s a dingy-ass dude, too).
So I EveryBlock’d it (new verb), I mean, who knows what’s going on in the 60605? Last year they found someone from the FBI’s Most Wanted a few blocks down from here. Unfortunately, there was less drama than I was hoping for, no cannibalism or anything of that sort. Instead, we’ve got illegal immigrants getting RE-arrested, “simple” domestic battery, several accounts of theft (at 6 a.m., no less) at the wonderful Jewel I frequent every week and daily pick-pocketing incidences right across from my apartment building. OMG, yay South Loop!!
A mini-podcast-esque attempt.
GIMME BACK THAT FILET ‘O FISH, BITCH. This one’s for Trevor, who finds this song to be oddly addicting (wait, so do I).
Seriously, listen. Best lyrics ever.
It’s time for a seven season X-Files marathon (I leave out 8 and 9 due to Fox’s absence). My only current David fix is his ultra-depressing Pedigree commercials until naked Hank Moody comes back.
Hold me closer, Tony Danza.
Seriously, does anyone else choose to exchange Tiny Dancer for Tony Danza??
