The perils of being native

Right now I agreed to edit an essay for Cute Czech boy.

It is actually written in excellent English, better then most native's.

Unfortunately he is studying agriculture, or something like that and the article is about "Preservation of Meat in the Tropics."

I'd like to add that I am a pseudo veggitarian:


"Two ways of cutting muscles or smaller muscle groups into strips are either on chopping board or in the hanging position."

Preparation of “biltong” has to strictly keep the procedure of proper bleeding and evisceration. The whole process include cutting (or rather tearing) the meat lengthwise so that group of fibers can be dried as a unit. After that the meat is salted so that the salt is rubbed in by hand before hanging or strips are left with salt overnight.

But on the bright side I found out that I can get a work permit!! Which is really exiciting because now I can legally work as soon as I get my identity card. Which will hopefully eventually come. (I only finished the paperwork a month ago, so according to Belgian beaurocracy that is like...yesterday)

I think I am away to much though to get a steady job, but I'm going to try and maybe teach a few English classes or something.

I am trying to get a volunteer job, but like Canada, volunteering these days has become the equilivant to an internship and is thus for people who like to build their resumes. Which means deadlines and qualifications. Gone are the days where organizations were desperate for someone, ANYONE, to organize their files. It has turned into a privilage. Damn slave labour is now hard to get.

There aren't even any homeless people in Leuven. I can't even organize a hat drive.

I'm a joiner. I need something to join.