But it's been years, and I hadn't felt that self-indulgent itch for some time. That finally, inevitably, changed as I was driving my rental car down I-5N one recent weeknight, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road and away from the city lights of the Seattle skyline. Although I nearly always carry my camera, I refrained from snapping away at 75 mph on the highway. This stock google photo suffices in lieu of reckless driving.
I've had a stretch of several unruly weeks, and today marks the end of what has turned out to be quite a spirited run. Lately the commotion has revolved around interviews for a minimally invasive surgery fellowship. Seattle and San Antonio were the sole outliers as the majority have been in Northern California. The best-in-show routine grows arduous quickly, so maybe the urge to return to routine writing is a response to an SOS from my stifled creative mind.
An interesting facet to West Coasters is the lack of a response to foreign names; although I never thought of it as unique to the Midwest, folks in the heart of the country tend to struggle with anything but the traditional Anglo-Saxon name. Although my name was uniformly butchered by the interviewees, receptionists, and peers I encountered, there was no hesitation to tackle my titular conundrum and ask the source directly for help in navigating its tricky syllables. It was refreshingly unexpected, a subtle departure from the personal apology I unknowingly issue every time I introduce myself- "It's pronounced Zenith, like the TV".