If I could write a letter to me and send it back in time to myself at seventeen.

     Uh-oh. I'm getting deep today. I am currently writing from a hotel room in Columbus, Ohio. Why Columbus, you ask? My little brother, JT, is currently on a tour of Ohio State. Yeah. I feel old.

Celebrate we will, cause life is short but sweet for certain.

     First things first: I am having an incredibly difficult time stringing together a coherent post today. I can practically hear all the neurons in my brain firing in a million different directions. I'm sort of picturing the following scenario: thought A shoots off and starts heading toward my hand. It's enjoying the sweet ride from my brain to my fingers, where it will be pounded out onto my keyboard. Then thought B shoots off, because even though he is off-topic and irrelevant, he feels left out. Thought A collides with thought B, they get in an epic bar fight, and they both wind up coming off of my fingers in a mangled, banged up, limping, pitiful walk of shame. And neither of them look good.
     The point of that useless story was to tell you not to judge my off-topic ramblings today. I know it's ridiculous, but that's how my life has been lately, so it suits me.