A year ago, I got my first taste of freedom and living on my own. In a few days, I get a huge bite. I know that for the next few years, I will still rely heavily on my parents for financial support, and the responsibility of not fucking them or myself over weighs heavy on my shoulders. I'm in that phase of life where I absolutely despise stuff and money. The towers of boxes and crates in my garage scream, "I HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF!" and the numbers on my ATM receipt send my head into a spinning "Where did all those hours at work go?".
As always, the last weeks of any stage of life has far surpassed the middle ground of time spent there. I've broken many rules, trespassed and vandalized a bit of private property, gone on mini-adventures, seen people for the first time and last time in months, and I know that the next two weeks hold even more excitement. My beloved Denton crowd has already begun to mosey back and before long will be together again, in our own places outside the dorms. Friday and Saturday spell two nights of awesome concerts at the Granada, my most visited music venue.
I'm excited :]
