I believe.

There is something in my bones that tells me when something is or isn't right, and I only get the feeling every so often but when I do it always follows through. I look at someone or something and I know that things are or aren't going to end in my favor, and to be honest it's usually hell getting there one way or the other, but I'm almost always right on the mark.
This semester, however little of it has happened so far, has been strange. I've barely gone in to work, my apartment complex has been up in arms because of a recent tragedy, and friends are grieving and one of them is gone. Last Saturday I went to a birthday party and this Saturday I went to a funeral. Labor day and Richard's birthday are over now and the world will really start back up tomorrow.
I'm not really sure what point I'm trying to make to be honest. I think a lot of times I start off stories like that and end with some kind of moral, but I really don't have one this time. I guess I just need to type because, don't get me wrong, I've dealt with a lot of change over the years, but this time everything happened so fast and it's a little harder to think on my feet, you know?
Through all of this though, there are a few lights at the end of the tunnel, if you will. I can assure you, I'm sprinting towards them. This week has been exhausting and entirely too void of activity.
Now, just for fun, here is a stupid picture I took God knows when with photo booth. Note the classy ass beer can.

If anything has become distinctly apparent to me in the past three weeks, it is this: when I'm old and drinking a glass of whisky with my cereal when I wake up at three in the afternoon, and when I do book signings and other fancy things, I will most definitely have written something about my time in this particular apartment.

Love you,
Loch.

p.s. for the record, I am not dumb. This is for someone specific. You know who you are, and if you don't then you should.