So, I’ve taken a long break from writing this blog now to work on another project, which for better or for worse was not quite as fulfilling as writing these blogs. You live and you learn. Sometimes the apple isn’t always greener on the other side.
For the past three years I’ve been on somewhat of an extended vacation living in the Las Vegas Valley. You haven’t missed much of the fuckery that goes on out here, it’s been all good. I’ve been denied from three different PhD programs (to be fair, I wrote my letter of intent to the wrong person for one of the schools), my car broke down and I’ve been riding a 15-year-old Huffy 18-speed bicycle to work since January, and I currently do not have health insurance. On the bright side, yesterday, my patient told me I had an ass like a muthafucka. Always a silver lining somewhere.
Now, we could say that things are going down hill, but next week, in the words of Bob Dylan, (not Darius Rucker) I’m heading down south to the land of the pines, and I’m thumbin’ my way in to North Caroline. Ready to be back on the east coast, where people are…let’s just say, more similar to me? Maybe that’s a little farfetched, but there’s something in the water out here that changes people. That’s why I’ve been only drinking tequila and wine the past three years. Gotta stay safe out here.
Like I said before I had to get rid of my car, and to be honest, I think the bike I have is in worse shape than the car was. Naturally, I have to drive my fiancé’s car across the country. Of course, she couldn’t be a normal white girl and just drive a white Nissan Altima. She had to really take it to another level, so at the ripe age of 16 she decided to get a Volkswagen Beetle. Yeah. Imagine that. Without a trunk I have to pack enough clothes to last me a week until the moving truck arrives with our shit. But, also we can’t use the backseat because guess what, that’s where the dogs going to sit. So, I’m going to drive 36 hours in two days in the smallest car made in America pre-smartcar era… with no health insurance. Good for me.
The good news is that this is all in an effort to be back on the east coast before we get married. Yes, ladies all 5’5 of this short fat bald man is officially off the market. Have been for about three years but it’s not like anyone’s knocking down the door here, except this patient who wants my ass. They always want what they can’t have.
You’ll be hearing from me next week, probably mid-road trip if I can get the fiancé to take over the wheel. Stay tuned fuckers.