|
Apologies for the general lateness of things. Many work projects donchano. Tuesday, April 16, 2002; 10:44 a.m.; Secret Pineapple Island Lair I didn't get to go to college right out of high school, because my mother tried to force me into the Air Force, and I wasn't really down with the idea of sitting in a bunker in Saudi Arabia listening to Iraqis exchange mutton recipes for six years, so I ran off to Florida to live with my dad and his now-ex-wife. The biggest problem with that proposition was that his wife was crazy and just about tried to kill me. After a month, I found myself on a Grayhound bus for California to live with my grandmother and attend school there. But one thing about me, when something really bad happens, I have to go home. There is just something about that sweet Manoa valley air, the familiar faces, the six little balls of fur meowing about -- it all recenters me and after just about every tragedy I have been on a flight home the next day. Well, back in those days a flight home was harder to come by and lo, when I went home it was pretty much for good. I worked a while, and finally managed to get myself into college with the high school class of 1995. Still, my mother did not really value my education and it was hard for me to concentrate on my studies for much of the time I was there, in addition to financial pressures and the basic problems of growing up and not really being sure what you want to do. By the time I figured out what it was I wanted to do I had left school, and the state, and started up a new life of fiduciary responsibility thousands of miles away. I know exactly what I want to do and how to get there, but I just can't afford it and nobody is exactly offering me a scholarship or anything, so here I am, watching my youth slip away. Meanwhile my mother sent herself to school and is, in fact, receiving a scholarship this weekend. I am going to be there to watch her get it, and while I am happy for her, there is something inside me that is a little bitter. That something, is coffee. I made it too strong again. Whoops. 
While I am loathe to ask for donations, my hosting bill has gotten a little bit out of hand, so if you're feeling generous, send a couple bucks to my webhost. |
