I applied (and am still applying) for summer internships, but nothing is biting so far. The boat’s sailing away, and I’m disappointed that I’m not on it — not because I feel entitled to ride on that boat, but because I feel like I could have run a little faster to the harbor to catch it.
But that’s how it goes sometimes. That boat’s gone, but I can get on the next one.
The last thing I want to do over the summer is just sit on my ass, and I told Tavish I wouldn’t mind scooping ice cream or something like that. Anything, really. My friend Kenny had done it a couple years ago, and he said it’s more tiring than one would imagine. Scooping ice cram is good for character, and it’s good for the forearms.
Tavish: “Don’t forget to switch arms. You wouldn’t want one to be bigger than the other.”
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A daydream: an attractive woman walks up and squeezes my right arm. You working out? Nah, I tell her. Just scooping ice cream.
