One very cool-looking restaurant

This is painful. All this work is starting to drive me insane. It's beginning to feel like school is in session. Wake up, surf a bit, then get down to work. Reminds me of struggling with an essay. Except this time, it's more than grades at stake. I really shouldn't have agreed to do this internship thing for my dad. I'm learning a lot, no doubt about it, but summer doesn't feel like a break at all. If I'm going to spend my summer working my arse off, I might as well have done summer school. Ah well, too late now. Next year, I'm going to have to find something else.

As background noise, I just tuned into a match between Newcastle and Aston Villa. The game isn't bad, but what really grabbed me was the tie Sir Bobby Robson is wearing. It's the same Kenneth Cole tie I bought and liked so much, but nobody seemed to agree. I'm not sure whether I should feel vindicated or mortified that a famous, highly respected septugenarian would approve of my sartorial tastes. One thing I've noticed, a lot of people still seem stuck on the cariation of the same colour in a suit that was so hot a few years back. Boring, I say. Stripes are the thing these days. Go have a look at the catwalks.

Also, Alan Shearer is looking very relaxed in the dugout. I sometimes wonder about a career where you can slip into a gentle retirement at the age of 33. When I'm 33, I better not be at the end of my career. Things should be heating up right about then. Unless, of course, my first choice of career works out. In case I never mentioned it, my first choice for a career would be to win a couple hundred million in a lottery, then become a jetsetting playboy. Well, maybe not the playboy bit, not my style. But lots of cool cars, clothes and a nice entourage would be good. The thought of working for it doesn't seem appealing, especially when you realise that it would take you until the age where you wouldn't enjoy it all that much to achieve it, if at all. Now, why couldn't I have been a brilliant sportsman in a popular sport instead of possessing as my sole talent the one thing that's in oversupply in the world these days? In case I never mentioned it, again, that's brains. Everybody has some degree of smarts, and having a bit more doesn't make life easier. If anything, it makes things harder. You know that there are so many more possibilities when you're smart, and that compels you to try to be better. Very tiring. In my case, it's worse, because there's so much I could do, but there are so many thoughts whizzing about in my head, all pushing me in different directions. If I were simpler, and could settle for a simple life, things would be straightforward. If I were not so much simpler, but just a bit, then I could just focus on being successful. Now that would be harder, but still straightforward. Instead, I don't really want to be very successful, but I want the rewards. The thing is that I have no motivation to be good at something. I don't see the point. I'm not going to go into that right now. Too much to tackle in my current frame of mind.

On a related note, I think this restaurant looks freakishly cool. I want to try it. Check it out.

http://www.trurestaurant.com

The link feature on blogger doesn't seem to work very well, and I'm not in the mood to tease out the workings of it, so there. Just follow the link, or paste it into your browser or something. Check out the photos of the food. If you don't feel compelled to try this restaurant after that, then there's something wrong with you. Maybe I should try Spring too, everyone seems to like it.

On another related note, my life is awfully irritating these days. Everyone seems to be getting on my nerves these days. I can understand how some things I do can be unpleasant, but it would be nice to be civil, at least. I generally always am. Just don't catch me when I'm not sober. I think I'm too nice to people though, then when I'm not in the mood to be, it becomes blown out of proportion. And please, whoever is reading this, don't assume this refers to you. It refers to someone, but I doubt she reads this, considering I've never given her this address. If you are reading this, then give me a break, yeah? It can happen that I'm simply too tired and irritated to be nice to you. I may be good, but Superman still has something on me. I think it's the way he wears his tights. I doubt I'd look good in skintight spandex.

Ugh, rambling like mad. I need to sleep.