I've always described my sub-conscious as being "on crack." Whether it's dreams of my sister stealing a modified Hummer garbage truck or me leaving my Spanish mob boss fiance for Mark Madsen, my synapses clearly fire in strangely entertaining ways.
Now I'm starting to wonder about my waking mind. Is it really sane for me to legitimately seek out jobs in England? Am I silly for wanting to geek out every day of my ordinary working life? Why do I suddenly start haunting monster.co.uk when I just bought my tickets for my August UK adventure? Since when do I think in so many questions rather than my usual declarative statements?
Maybe I should just go back to the original pipe dream. Work for Google. Free meals, free snacks, on-site masseuse. (Yes, I actually spelled that correctly on the first try.) But England, I hear it calling. It entices and serenades at the same time. It soothes the rejection e-mails with distance, but promises more opportunities all the while.
With my luck, I'll end up back in Utah within a year...
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