Back here in Sconnie. It's lonely, but not in a bad way. My trip home to Nebraska was nice -- good food and rest, old friends. But I forgot that no matter how many country songs I sing along too, I'm no down home absolutist. I was looking for some rejuvination in sparseness, but that wasn't to be found there, just too much of what hasn't changed, about me or home. When it was a whirlwind I enjoyed it, and the last day, when it slowed down sufficiently for introspection, I became utterly depressed.
Fortunately, this has waned. I was a feeling blue on the ride home though misty Iowa, and upon my return, where some bad punch made me feel shitty on New Year's. If there's anything that's gonna bring you out of a bout of depression, it sure isn't bringing down your friends on a holiday.
But no matter. It's break at UW, and shall be for some time, so I have this cafe mostly to myself and the entire house to sing John Denver as loud as I want. Yup. Once in a while, it's good to be me.
So I'm sitting here, trying to tell MIT why I want to go there, listening to the new Dylan record and looking forward to February, when application season fades behind and the days get a little longer. Maybe, just maybe, we'll be done mudding the drywall by then. But no promises.
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