For quite a few months now, I’ve been gazing at this amazing little portal into another dimension.
You see, a few months ago, I applied and was accepted to a number of graduate programs very much NOT in my current field and in very much WARMER, PALM TREE-LINED climates. Obviously I wussed out because...well, I’m a wuss.
Fate: Hey! Try something new with your life!
Anyway, these PALM TREE-LINED campuses keep sending me reminders to register for classes, find housing, apply for funding, and even meet my new professors. I haven’t the heart to unsubscribe. In fact, I NEED these communications lately. They come with pretty images of campus and I start fantasizing about going to college to learn all over again. Actually, those fantasies more or less involve me living on the beach and having a six-pack. Wha?
With the pictures of palm trees, I start thinking about the missed opportunity I had with the aquarium fundraising offer. I mean, constant beach/sand/pool/sea turtle life would be quite welcome right now. Plus I love enchiladas and margaritas and this place was like forty paces from the Mexico border (only if you’re bring chased under the light of a new moon). The pay vs. cost of living also would have me probably owning some sort of water recreational vehicle. For sure. Oh, plus pools in every apartment complex. Makes the 5x5 backyard deck seem not so cool, huh?
Alas, portals into other dimensions are often rose-colored, at least in my sad and sardonic universe: First, my mentor for my favored grad program was killed in a motorcycle accident this summer. That means, I would have made plans and moved to Florida only to not be trained by the best. Also, everyone knows that grad school is NOT undergrad bong-filled frat parties and instead perseverance and academic competition.
Secondly, the aquarium I would have been employed at is currently witnessing the Eye of God (aka eye of Hurricane Dolly). As I say no more to Iowa, God’s wrath washes away the entire business district; I say no to Corpus Christi, Hello Dolly; I say no to graduate school and the lead professor has an accident.
So maybe all of these decisions (are they regrets?) were the right ones. But then again (how often do you get to quote Fight Club?): "On a long enough timeline..."