*Disclaimer:
This post is not about the Peace Corps, Ecuador, or my grand adventure. It does
not contain thrilling stories about teaching high school or gastro-intestinal
problems. If you’re only here to hear about the poop, feel free to skip this
one.
Sometimes when I
see 25 facebook posts about the same stupid TV show that I can’t watch, and I’m
in a bad mood, I think “oh, poor you, your favorite character was killed off?!
Oh no! You have to wait one whole week in suspense to find out what happened to
Robert! Big whoop. Get a life.” And other times, when I’m in a good mood, I
think about how silly and wonderful it is when people can bond and relate to
each other over fiction and how beautiful it can be when someone can forget
their troubles and envelop themselves in another world using nothing but their
imagination (and a flat screen and cable television). It’s like a new age
(lazier) version of a book club. But it’s also a 21st century
example of the familiar nature of the human condition and
it comforts me to think that in some ways, we’re really all the same.
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