So, today marks the one-month-until-I-commence-the-Big-Move day (I bet you didn’t know it was a celebratory day, but indeed, it is). I need to reserve some U-Haul action, but aside from that, I’m freaking psyched for this move. Of course, I’m more than ready to get going on graduate school, and I’m thrilled about the prospect of, for the first time, living in an actual big city with public transportation (I can’t even begin to describe how excited I am about leaving my car in Shreveport for the next two years). But there’s also one very important yet questionably logical reason for my enthusiasm about this move: I am so ready to be back in Eastern Standard Time.
Don’t make fun. It really is important to me — in fact, I’ll openly admit it is a big-ass bias of mine. Having grown up in North Cackylack, I became unknowingly accustomed to my time zone. It wasn’t until I moved to Texas for college that I realized how much a time zone affects a mentality; frankly, things in this country happen based on EST! Watch any non-local channel — unless you live on the East coast, you’re going to be forced to watch your show/game/concert/etc. at a time other than its intended airing. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: prime time was never meant to start at seven o’clock. Every New Year’s Eve I’m reminded of this when whatever house/party/bar I am at shows Dick Clark’s ball drop happening one hour before we count down ourselves.
Now, the Central time zone has many offerings: South by Southwest, Mardi Gras, the Saint Louis Cardinals, Fiesta, rodeos, ACL, Pink Party, the inordinately huge percentage of attractive males in Iowa…and the list clearly goes on. Just making that clear. I fully plan to participate in these activities to the best of my ability. Still, I know returning to my own, proper time zone will be a move that allows me to feel just a little more complete.
