I've lived in St Louis for three years this week. If I could talk to myself from three years ago and tell him everything that has happened, the jobs I've had, jobs I've lost, friends I've had, old friends I've lost, the hard times with money and people, I think my head would spin. Every once in a while someone will ask me if I miss home, and the answer is always a swift "no". I miss a handful of people, most of which don't even live there anymore, I just happened to be the first to leave. Some of the people I miss are people that died. Before I moved, there was really only one person close to me that had died, which was one of the biggest reasons why I had to get away from there. Since coming here I've had a close friend, two grandmothers, a great grandmother, and a close friend's dad die. Before moving I'd had five jobs before. Since being here I've had five more. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, other than that I seem to think a lot about that stuff around this time of year. I'm a sappy, sentimental bastard. Anyway, here are some awkward pictures of myself and Rock.



I hate to admit it, but the look on my face is clearly pure joy.