where you are.

I just went downstairs to go running on the machines in the gym down there. But, at 10:30 on a Saturday night, every machine in that normally-empty room is occupied. Do these people not have lives? Do they not have parties to go to or alcohol to drink? Do they not have friends to go out and watch a live show with? Maybe even dance a bit? Go out and eat at one of the thousands of cute little restaurants that sprinkle the streets?

I had my ipod on already. I was pumped up, settled on Justin Timberlake. I even had a graphic novel in my hand, which I had resolved to read despite my great surface aversion to the medium. I brought a water bottle, had convinced myself to even do some stretches in my room beforehand. I was READY. READY, dammit.

There I was. One of those losers. Planning to work out on a Saturday night. And I was turned away at the door.

So, in defiance and frustration, I have resolved to come back to my room, pretend like it never happened, and eat three cups of yogurt, the rest of my Girl Scout cookies, and a Snickers bar.