Day Fifteen

Today I wrote about one thousand words. This is the pace that I have settled into, for better or for worse.

I went to the cathedral in Madrid today. I went inside of it. It was the first time I'd been in a church since I was nine years old. At one point I tripped over a pew. I sat in the cathedral for a while and tried to think about what it means to believe in God, but I didn't get very far. I remembered a time back when I was in sixth grade. A girl from my neighborhood who I barely knew called my house and invited me to Vacation Bible School. For some reason I had a desire to go, but my parents said I couldn't, and in the end I didn't protest very much. The girl and her family must have believed I was going to hell.

I went out to the bars with some people from the hostel. There were two Irishmen who tortuously explained why Guinness is only good in Ireland. They also aggressively asserted Irishmen can drink more than anybody else on Earth. Yet they were very intelligent and engaging when not talking about drinking, a subject which dropped their IQs by about thirty-five points.

 There was also a girl from Los Angeles, twenty-two years old I think, who said she has been to Europe "like seven times". She travels the world mainly to go to clubs and to shop. Naturally I despised her, but then I attempted to check my resentment, because if my parents had a huge pile of filthy Los Angeles money and let me do whatever I wanted with it, would I do anything different, really? This line of thought wasn't helpful. I still do not like her.