take that Paul Revere

I just learned that you have to be 18 and under to be a fife player in the colonial Williamsburg fife and drum corps. Damn you Williamsburg! They leave me no choice. I guess I'm going to have to become a redcoat now.

I’m convinced that moving from the constant social atmosphere of college to the relative isolation of the “real world” has me building up the crazy. All the random thoughts, the paranoias, the stories with no point, and other hallmarks of my existence are forming a sort of “mental plaque” on my brain with nowhere to go.

I recently read that writing is like a cheaper version of therapy. So here goes . . .