What else do you want me to say?
To tell you that last night I sat in a pub, in my flip flops, drank a screwdriver, stared at my toes and comtemplated the meaning of life?
No, not really. Well, I did do all of the above, only that I was doing it with someone else. So I guess that takes a bit of the screwed-up-ness out of the scenario.
So what do two twenty-somethings talk about? Work, love, life, relationships, family.
Gees. You see how self-absorbed our generation is? What happened to the rest of the world?
Ironically, we were sitting in one of those artsy-type places. Where photographers, artists, activists, rally-marchers, and placard-holders go to discuss society and how they can change it.
And while we were staring at our footwear and discussing our relationships with our parents, right opposite us is a counter full of postcards, leaflets and brochures advocating issues such as arms control and the mandatory labelling of GM food, or promoting events such as the latest run of the Vagina Monologues.
My train of thought went something like this: Arms control?! Cool. Never heard of it before. Hmm…I wonder if it’s an organization. Are they hiring?
My friend stared at me.
Ok. Change of thoughts. I wonder if I should have another drink?
We played a boardgame, tallied our scores on our cellphones, and went home.
So much for Greenpeace, Oxfam, Amnesty International and their campaigns.