If You Build It, I Will Have No Idea Where To Go

At the end of my eighth grade year ("my eight grade year"...who am I, Holden Caulfield?) I won the World Geography Award. My elation was quickly stifled when my teacher thoughtfully took the time to announce to the whole class that my win was pretty much strictly due to the "One Award per Student" rule of the time; that the kids smarter than me had gotten awards from other classes, so this one settled down to me. How nice of him, I remember thinking. And who says trickle-down doesn't work?

So imagine my surprise when I found out that, after spending weeks staring at electoral maps, I had no idea Iowa was where it actually is. If you asked me point-blank where Iowa was, I'd say oh you know, out there with Montana/Idaho and such. That's where I always pictured it: a million miles away, tucked away in the big sky/canada/napolean dynamite world. And I just now realized that hell, it's only three states away from my home of Virginia. What the fuck - my whole internal map is screwed up. I can't even find Iowa; no wonder I can't find a blind, slightly crippled should-be lingerie model nympho who is desperately ready to settle for the first dude that talks to her. Fucking a.