metaphorical poo.

Yesterday the metaphorical poo hit the metaphorical fan.

After my work situation reached an all-time stress high, I walked a few miles to retrieve my bike from a hopital where I had left it when I first responded to the emergency.

I found it to be stolen.

While walking back I broke things off with theguy I have been seeing for 6 weeks.

Then I just broke. I found a squatty potty and sobbed in a stall for a few minutes which felt so great. Sometimes you just have to cry it out, especially after staying strong through a crisis for so many days.

Eventually, I ventured back out into the street filled with Chin.ese tourists to walk back to my campus and meet a friend (misery loves company).

While walking, I openly cried - which did not attract any more attention than I normally do. Ha. I walked slowly because I just didn't have any more fight left. So there I was, crying and slogging along a bamboo-lined road when a monk in a golden robe and shaved head approached me. He handed me a Buddhist track and told me to, "kan yi kan," or, "have a look."

I flicked him a bird and kept walking.

So yesterday will go down as the day I flicked off a monk. (I realize this is bad behavior, but it is also hilarious to me.) In what world does that happen? This one.

Dear crisis,

Thank you for the chapter in my future book. It's gonna be a good one.

Love,

JG

walk slow. (and keep your head up.) xoxo.