Killing Time

When I’m stuck at the Detroit airport close to midnight, waiting for a delayed flight to Fort Wayne, Indiana, I like to look through my journal archives on my laptop. And inevitably, I reach the same conclusion every time I peruse my musings: Holy crap.

As in, “Holy crap, what the hell was going on in my head when I was 18/21/24/26/30?”

I look forward to reading this year’s journal in 2015 when I ask myself why I’m at the Detroit airport at midnight waiting for a flight to Fort Wayne, Indiana.

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