I currently lack anything profound to say, but I do feel the need to express my extreme jealousy over a friend’s trip to Mozambique. He seems so carefree in his travel planning – wandering around the world at his own pace, checking off continents from a to-do list (I’ve already got Africa, having boated over from Spain during my undergraduate years).

In Cuba he wound up playing stickball with local children. In one of the European countries ending with ‘A’ (maybe Croatia, maybe Slovakia, maybe even Slovenia – the point is, he’s been enough places that it’s easy to forget the details) he got ridiculously smashed at a local pub on dollar pints – not a revelatory experience, but he sure made it sound colourful.

Maybe it’s just the way he writes (unfortunately he’s deleted the earliest entries from his travel weblog, citing poor writing), but everything always seems so fantastic.

Or maybe it’s just that I don’t appreciate the things I’ve done and need to stop using words like “jealousy.” I once had an anonymous comment left on my Facebook profile that read: “I’m secretly jealous/impressed by all the things you’ve done in your lifetime.”

In any event, while he’s off galavanting overseas, I’ve got priority seating for the NHL Entry Draft in two weeks.