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twenty-three years I meant to write more than I did yesterday. Something distracted me before I went to work and I didn't quite finish what I had to say. Then I decided to let the thoughts carry over into the next entry as I so often do here. The story should stay the same even if it is a day late. In some ways summer does lack a clear starting point for me. The line between spring and summer no longer has the artificial boundary of final exams that was a part of my life for five years. Now spring bleeds into summer without me really noticing. I have to make my own ways of telling time. The only milestones in my life are the ones that I create. Six years ago I drove away from the house that I had lived in for the last two years of college. I was the final member of the house to close the door. All of the others had left before me. It was odd. A house that was usually filled by seven people and their respective friends was now completely empty. It certainly wasn't a grand house. Without a doubt it was a college house beaten and worn over the years by those that stayed there. Interior decoration was a foreign concept with three of the kitchen walls having different wallpaper patterns from previous decades. I truly doubt that people find large orange and tan mushrooms appealing to the eye anymore. I remember driving back to my parents house with my car loaded down with the last of my belongings. It was an odd collection of plants, clothes and stereo equipment. I didn't have a job and I didn't have a place of my own anymore. What I did have was potential. I wish that I had kept a journal then. Now all that I have are memories filtered through six years of hindsight. There are times when I wonder what I would say to myself when I was twenty-three years old. Of course this would mean crossing over into the dangerous world of what if I had done something else years ago. I don't want to live in a world of regret. What I did then seemed to be the right choice and there is nothing that I can do to change the past. I have the house to myself this weekend. No doubt my downstairs neighbors are out of town trying to find a new place to live now that they have sold this place. I could care less where they move, but I often wonder why they moved here in the first place. From what I understand she hated Milwaukee from the very beginning. She was a small town girl and missed her family and friends. I truly believe that she intended to move back as soon as possible, because she continued to work at her job located an hour north of the city. From my perspective, I have suffered inconvenience due to her indecision and I will not miss them when they are gone. On a lighter note, I am childishly enjoying being able to stomp around the house without disturbing someone beneath me.
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