Ok, so, utopia comes with some thieves. Who stole my precious motorbike from outside of my house. Subsequently costing me seven hundred bucks. But besides a few, short, tear-filled moments and a smidge of self pity, NOT EVEN THAT can get me down! I’m on an installment re-payment plan with a new motorbike on the way on this Wednesday! So what if I’m paying the equivalent to a car payment for a Hyundai? Money is just money. And, we all know I would’ve found a far less practical way to blow it anyway. Might as well go towards my super fun mode of transportation.
Some might think that losing your most prized [rented] possession to some little bastard at the cost of one pair of Loeffler Randall Matilde boots would be enough to send me packing….But, it wasn’t. In fact, I think it almost a blessing. I think that by being forced to pay for this bike, I’m that much closer to rationalizing what I think my heart wants: to stay here for a full year, maybe a little more.
I got into grad school…A feat I honestly did not think possible. I mean, of course I was hopeful, but I absolutely was not expecting Boston University to find me an adequate candidate to admit. Now that they have, there is an even bigger question looming. Do I want to go? I’m not sure I can endure the process of applying all over again—particularly the part about begging and harassing professors who barely know me to write for my future. Yet, I also don’t think I’m going to be ready, come August, to leave this place. Time has flown by in an almost surreal way. I feel as if I just arrived and tomorrow marks my three-month anniversary. Besides the little travel I did on my way into Cambodia, I haven’t started the epic Asian odyssey I have planned and when I look to the months ahead, there just doesn’t seem to be enough time to be able to wrap it up by August. It’s such a hard call to make; how can I possibly know how my feelings might change by then?
I’m on the brink of something. And it’s going to alter my life’s direction. In the wise words of a friend, I need to decide “whether [my] path really needs a title and certificate to create the life [I] want.” Especially for the price tag of $40,000 a year. Vietnam was supposed to be a conclusion to a story I never finished seven years ago. It was meant to be a chunk of living between leaving the world of fashion and entering the world of academia. But it’s turned into my life. And I’m not saying that to be obvious. It wasn’t obvious—to me, anyway. I’ve wasted a lot of time “living” a “life” I wasn’t satisfied with and I’m sick of that approach. I seem to have fallen into some sort of rabbit hole because, well, I’m fucking happy!
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