]I’ve now been here for three months. A quarter of a year.
I guess I’ve proved my point, that if you are unhappy where you are, pack your bags up and find someplace better. Truth be told, I’m less miserable than I was in Portland. It’s a great city (both of them.)
A few more months of slogging along, and then I’ll have to come to the inevitable decision.
There are opportunities abound, but few of them in the writing field. I could probably land a nice gig running a cleaner somewhere by this point, or land that dream job from Crothall from years back. I could head back to Maine and open my own shop. There is talk of a Hunter S. Thompson “Gonzo” roving film festival coming next year, with someone needed to herd the turtles, keep the worms all in one unopened can, and securely pack the cats in the correct bags.
But the writing…and the lack of it. There lies the problem.
Frankly, the Sarasota Observer never even bothered to respond to my phone calls. The same trend seems to be developing for the Herald Tribune.
I suppose I could expand the travelogue into a short book. At least one frequent reader contacted me to ask for advice, as she is considering taking the leap herself in a few months.
Vexation, thy mirror image is indecision.