In Scotland

 After long hours of travel to Edinburgh, then an almost-late entry to the train to Inverness, and a continuous battle against jet lag throughout, I find myself in this northerly part of Scotland. In my ears are "Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying" by Belle and Sebastian from a Scottish playlist put together by my friend who earned his masters degree in sound design in Edinburgh, and I cannot help but think that such a sentiment is what sent me to this land in the first place. I have this feeling of having been wasting away, locked into the cruel progression of time and geographical stagnation. And certain fears remain, such as the fact that upon searching last night for events or company, the only lively bits about town seemed to be related to a rugby game, which is an activity concerning which I have not the slightest passing fancy.

So in this moment sitting in Starbucks after having redeemed my saved points for accidentally abominably large drinks, I attempt to take a glance around before remembering that my neck muscles and joints are so fixed that they limit such abilities. I have been so fixed in such a narrow state of living that I am physically prevented from seeing further beyond that restricted peripheral, and so perhaps a goal of my time here will be to simply expand this line of sight. Does this mean that I go into acting? Or does this mean that I work a non-clinical medical job with the recognition that it need not prevent me from doing more as well? Fortunately, these are questions that need not be answered until this trip has reached its cessation.

For the second time in a few days, I am in a city filled with the spoken accents of my predecessors and the physical accents of the architecture that continues to be representative of how they lived, and all of these captivations overlooked by a castle on a hill.