Dogs/Mike Kinsella

I've always felt like Mike Kinsella was singing right to me. Whether I was succumbing to sleep on a purple train back to Lowell, or trying to warm my toes driving through the Appalachian Mountains. You're much more attached to things like that back here. The mountains, I mean. They're always on the horizon, right behind the "bojangles" sign. There isn't anything real beautiful here. If I wanted to live somewhere beautiful, I'd move to West Virginia...or I'd just crawl back home with my tail between my legs.

There are things to look forward to though. Paychecks seem to warm my heart even though I don't really own anything or buy anything that doesn't end up in either one of our stomachs eventually. I always liked cooking and buying food. I look forward to singing again too. I look forward to making new friends.

I just don't stop thinking about snowflakes and how, even though its bitter cold here, we can't seem to get a day that isn't sunny. Living without a cell phone has been the most liberating thing I've done since I moved from Lowell. I'd like to latch on to a mover or a shaker but I'm at a standstill at a busy intersection with nowhere to go but back.

I wish I could text my friends that I miss them...just so they could text me back that they miss me too. That is the most selfish thing I want.