cum on feel the noize

     I think I've figured out part of why I'm having such trouble getting anything creative done in Lowell.  And what it comes down to, ultimately, is noise.  At bare minimum, the air conditioner is pretty much going 24/7... until I get frustrated enough to turn it off and drip with sweat for an hour or so (for some reason, my room is a solid ten degrees warmer than anywhere else in the house, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why).  But then there's doors slamming, cars in and out, the phone going off because Sallie Mae thinks today will be the day I can suddenly afford to pay them.  Better still, this house has no working locks inside, and the walls are paper-thin.  It's a mess.  It's not like I need total silence to get things done, but I've just been having trouble concentrating lately, and the little things have sort of stacked up.

get back to where you once belonged

  When I was eighteen years old, I lived in a very old house just off 495 with my father.  By the end of the summer, I had driven an hour away with a large portion of my things, and went to college.  Seven years later, I'm living back in Lowell once again.  A temporary condition, to be sure, but I can't help but feel as though I'm falling behind.