My wife and I had been looking at moving up to the Pacific Northwest for a few years now. We had planned to go back to school, get some advanced degrees in our professional fields, then look at making the move. Then one night a little search agent plopped a new job posting in my inbox. I sat there, my heart skipping beats, contemplation jittering my nerves. Fuck it. I mailed off my resume to what seemed like the most unobtainable dream job I had ever seen pop up. The best thing that could happen was I’d get the job; the worst thing that could happen was I could get the job.
Well, after a lengthy phone call, and a long interview through Skype, I GOT THE JOB! Shit, now what? I guess I’m moving to Portland. I stood numb in Portland International Airport, expecting that any moment Freddy Krueger would pop up as pine trees melted into rusted boiler pipes. But it never happened. Slowly, bit by bit, my dream has been becoming a reality.
The makeshift apartment is finally taking shape. Soon I’ll be getting a new driver’s license stamped with Oregon across the top. Now I need to get back to writing, even if it means leaning over a laptop balanced on a milk crate. I’ve got a lot of projects screaming at me for attention. There’s The Girl Alone flirting with me over in the corner, and somewhere behind her there are giant billowing clouds of steam clouding the horizon. I guess it’s time to tighten my goggles, and oil my cogs. A whole new series of Allen Dusk adventures are on their way soon.