TEXAS IS THE DEVIL!

Yeah, you read right. TEXAS IS THE DEVIL! I came to this melodious conclusion while I was driving home from work this afternoon, which took all of about five minutes. A quick and dirty mental content analysis told me that everything shitty that's happened to me and my family over the past two and a half years started when I moved to Lubbock in August of 2004. Because, really, before that life was good!

Before that I'd spent a year in Ruidoso, waiting tables and bartending, pseudo-dating a fun guy, going out and having a blast every weekend, driving up to Albuquerque to visit Eve, went to go see my dad in 2004, my friends came to visit me pretty often, etc. Generally it was a stupendous time in the life of Sarah, but unfortunately, Sarah has to have a purpose and a goal, or she feels worthless, so she went to graduate school.

First things first. Like two weeks before I moved, Richard hired Satan Incarnate, also known as the Psycho Hose Beast, otherwise known as the skank my brother Josh "dates". Josh met her at Le Bistro and the rest is sordid history. She's been nothing but bleach poured into an open and festering wound since they got together. I won't discuss it here to protect my brother's privacy, but it hasn't been good and has caused my mom more stress and heartache then I think anyone will ever realize. So this has been a continual challenge for two and a half years.

Then the following Spring I meet the man of my nightmares, who I will refer to as "Hick Boy". I met him while visiting Evelyn in Albuquerque, and found out that he didn't live far from Lubbock, so we started a "long distance" relationship, fell for each other (gag me), and then he asked me to move in with him in a terrible, terrible, smelly, poor excuse for a town in the Texas Panhandle. Well, it was either move there with Hick Boy, or back home to Ruidoso and continue the stress of a long distance relationship, so I took the plunge against my own judgment (notice I didn't say "good" judgment). Had I not been living in Texas, I don't think this relationship would have gone past the night we met.

Most of us know how that relationship turned out... For brevity's sake, let's just say f*cked up.

Shortly after that move, I got some bad news about my mom's health and returned home to be with my family with Hick Boy in tow. This was New Year's, 2005/2006, and the last time I got to see my brother, Matt, before he died on January 6, 2006. Still unbelievable to me. That event led to other traumatic events, mental processes, and behavior I don't care to elaborate on.

Hick Boy and I parted ways sometime around the end of February or beginning of March last year, and I moved home, having to travel to Lubbock once a week (not exactly every week because my professor was awesome) so I could finish my Master's degree. That's a three and a half hour drive, one-way, for anyone who's interested... But I did finish.

I visited Dallas twice last spring and really liked it, so being spontaneous and wanting away from New Mexico and all of that horrible-ness regarding my brother's death, I moved here in July, thinking I would easily be able to find a job. Not. So. Much. Ok, so I have had three jobs since I've been here, but none of them are in Mass Communications or writing, so I'm back at square one. However, I have to say that I have learned that I am not really interested in advertising or public relations anymore. Just journalism and writing. So that's a plus, I suppose...

In September of last year, my mom came down with a terrible case of pneumonia that almost killed her. That was fun, let me tell you. Apart from the passing of my beloved brother, this was an incredibly disturbing time. My mother was in rare form and I don't care to ever see her or anyone in that condition ever again. I hope that I, and everyone I love, dies before we come to that state of being. It was horrible.

Other "complications" from aforementioned events have taken place, but I think I've made my point. Texas is jacking with my Karma and I am so over it. "Land of Entrapment"? Fuck you. I want to go home.

*Do you like how I edited the first F-bomb, but let the second one go? That's called accentuation. And I like it.