Thursday, January 01, 2009

The destination, not the journey

Trying to write about "the journey that has led" me to grad school. It was long, rambly, twisty, and nonsensical even to me even at the best of times... not sure how to go about condensing it into 500 words. And anyways, it's hard to think when I've got this song stuck in my head:


When I Get to the Border

Dirty people take what's mine
I can leave them all behind
They can never cross that line
When I get to the border

Sawbones standing at the door
Waiting 'till I hit the floor
He won't find me anymore
When I get to the border

Monday morning, Monday morning
Closing in on me
I'm packing up and I'm running away
To where nobody picks on me

If you see a box of pine
With a name that looks like mine.
Just say I drowned in a barrel of wine.
When I got to the border
When I got to the border

A one way ticket's in my hand
Heading for the chosen land
My troubles will all turn to sand
When I get to the border

Salty girl with yellow hair
Waiting in that rocking chair
And if I'm weary I won't care
When I get to the border

Monday morning, Monday morning
Closing in on me
I'm packing up and I'm running away
To where nobody picks on me

The dusty road will smell so sweet
Paved with gold beneath my feet
And I'll be dancing down the street
When I get to the border
When I get to the border


It's resonating right now, and I'm sure you can count several reasons why that would be.
Meanwhile, there are some loud guests at my parents' new years party downstairs. Good thing I have my pinot up here.

No comments: