Medicine is my Wife; Literature my Mistress, or “Literature, baby, I love you; don’t do me like that!”
But Literature, baby, I’ve got commitments. I wish it weren’t so. But you knew I was married when we met. And, frankly, you seemed happy to leave me alone during the MCAT. I know we didn’t get “serious” until afterwards, and we’ve just had a great summer together. But there will be other times. Now I need to own up to the promises I made on the interview circuit. I belong in the hospital now. Once the dust settles, I’ll get back to work on a final polish of Spellwright. I’ll even blog again. I know I said it the last time, but this is the last time. Just give me another chance.
Comments
2 Responses to “Medicine is my Wife; Literature my Mistress, or “Literature, baby, I love you; don’t do me like that!””
Jess
9:16 pm Sep-9-2007
Hmm. Given this metaphor of your priorities, does it follow that your friends are just your dirty, dirty whores?
hee.
blakecharlton
11:52 pm Sep-9-2007
hmmm…sometimes a cigar is just a…oh, wait that defense didn’t work for Freud. So…uh, yeah. The metaphor dies right after I stop using it? How does that sound 😉