So I've sobered up a bit and gotten over my pathetic self, at least a little, and it has just hit me that I've been in four cities going on five (and maybe six--start spreading the news....) in the past 14 days, and major things have happened, but perhaps I have gotten used to things changing at this rapid pace.

It has been two weeks since I took Step 1 of the USMLE in Chicago (OK, Northbrook to be exact), and just under two weeks since Aimee and Eugene got married in Berkeley. I have traipsed through San Francisco, driven aimlessly through L.A., and lost ridiculous amounts of money in Las Vegas. On Saturday, my brother will be graduating from college, and the day after tomorrow I will be making that familiar sojourn up the I-5 to Davis. In less than a week I will return to Chicago to move into my new apartment in Wicker Park (the last location of MTV's "The Real World") and maybe, just maybe, I'll be making one last trip before M3 year starts en force.

My head should be spinning with all the world whirling around me.

Instead, I have been caught up in solipsism, feeling sorry for myself, with my head up my ass. I mean, nothing has really changed and I'm therefore not entirely looking forward to the possible impending situation upon my return to the Midwest, but I suppose self-pity can only go on for so long until you get sick of it.

On the drive through the Mojave Desert today, I think I remembered some of the things that this past year has made me forget, and maybe, just maybe, I'll get back to where I was this time last year, understanding that whatever I am now is exactly what I need to be, and the best I can do is let my light shine, even if it's dim and flickery and no one is looking.

So once again, it's all about the Art of Not Wanting, Living in the Moment, and Not Letting the Bastards Grind Me Down.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll make after all.