The world can be a very frustrating place at times. Part of me — the part that loves good novels and mushy movies — would like to think that each small trial carries with it a lesson about how the world works. The rest of me — the part that usually wins out in the end — figures that such events are essentially random, and alter my view of the world only slightly. (This is, no doubt, a self-fulfilling view.)

However, to the relief of all parts of me, I invariably find that there is a lesson to be learned each time: of how I can better deal with frustration and anger. Narcissist that I apparently am, I use the whole world to learn about myself. I’ve got a long way to go, I think, but I’m getting much better. Eventually I’m going to have a zen-like grin of glee permanently plastered on my face. Everyone will think I’m crazy — but then who cares, because I’ll be so happy and at peace! Yesss.

Anyway, these past two weeks have been an awesome whirlwind of seeing old friends again: Louise, Andrew, Brian, Joy, Jeff, Josiah, Leland, Andrew (another one), Michelle. I was a bit discombobulated at times, mentally flitting between various eras of my short, inconsequential life, but of course the best friendships are the effortless ones, those in which personal histories are largely irrelevant… you sit down and start talking and immediately have a good time.

It would be remiss to post an AJ journal entry without a semblance of a rant. So here’s one. Why do hotels never provide complimentary toothpaste? I recently stayed at a very nice hotel that had, among other things, three complimentary vials of body lotion and — I kid you not — a telephone installed next to the toilet, presumably so you could do your business while doing your business, if you get my drift, har har har. However: no toothpaste. Of course, having experienced the non-toothpastity of hotels many times before, I had brought my own, a ratty little tube from which I squeezed out the last mole or two of paste. I shouldn’t have to do this… I shouldn’t have to worry about the cap accidentally unfastening in my toiletries bag and the ensuing flood of Crest gumming up my electric razor and rendering me, well, crestfallen, especially in a hotel that charges more per night than a McDonalds employee makes in a week and a half. I know that hotels often allow you to call down to the front desk for toothpaste if you’ve forgotten yours, but that’s like going to a restaurant and having to ask the waiter for a fork. Everyone uses toothpaste. So I say: ditch the complimentary shower caps, nail files, makeup applicators, and one of the three hand towels, and give me some ADA-approved lovin’. Thanks.