My first post on Sad-Sigh
I live in the middle of nowhere, Scotland. I’ve been told by a friend who went to Kenyon and lived in Gambier, OH (pop. 85) that this is not the middle of nowhere, but for a girl who has lived in nearly every big city in America, having your nearest city be Dundee (nickname: Scumdee) and living right next to a field full of sheep isn’t really the ideal situation, especially considering the population that I’m stuck with every single bloody day of my life.
To be more specific, it’s a Rich American Town, more or less. They come for the golf, then they send their kids here for university for some reason. I’ve been told Scottish people live in St. Andrews (nickname: St. Randy’s), but they’re like Sasquach. I only ever see their shadow and the footprints they leave behind. For the most part, during most of the year, I’ve gathered that when the St. Andrews Interaction Train doesn’t take me into Entitled Student Station (where drunk girls and their popped-collar, polo-shirted escorts dance to house music in cramped spaces), I’m riding the express train straight through to Middle Aged American Male Crisis Centre, and that’s a place you don’t want to leave your ass exposed. Sigh. Just because you can buy and sell everything I own with what you make in an hour, that doesn’t mean you own my asscheeks, thanks.
Sad.
I do hope I’m living somewhere else next year, but I probably won’t be. In fact, what will probably happen is that the other places I’ve applied for my Ph.D. will tell me no and St. Andrews will come up with an offer I can’t refuse. Why? That’s how much God hates me. And God doesn’t just hate me. He loves the Middle Aged Golfers that have proprietary rights over my ass.
If you enjoyed this post, please consider to leave a comment or subscribe to the feed and get future articles delivered to your feed reader.
Comments
No comments yet.
Leave a comment