Lame

Last night, I was up until two doing something awesome and I fell asleep in a haze of exhaustion. I woke up about 4:30 a.m. with my light on and my tax statute book open in front of me. Apparently my sleepwalking self had nothing better to do than peruse the Internal Revenue Code.

I'm trying valiently to find a place to live in [Vice President Utah's undisclosed location] but things are becoming difficult due to the inability of landlords to return my phone calls. You would think that a basic sense of salesmanship should compel someone to try to fill the rental vacancies they have, but it seems that it's easier to take a tax loss.

The fact that I'm leaving for quasi-good struck me hard the other day and I began to think of the things that I wish I had more time to do here...start a write-in campaign to elect Chuck Norris coroner, gallop a horse through the law library, and find a decent place to get donuts. The truth is, even though I didn't do everything I hoped to in this place, in three years I really only have two regrets. "Regret" is a powerful word that I try not to invoke unless I really mean it...much like "love," "hate," or "badass." It's not merely an acknowledgment of a mistake: a regret implies that given the chance and a time-traveling Delorian, you would go back and change history altogether. And I'm not talking about large-scale history changes, like Terminator, Heroes, and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure; I'm talking about individualized history changes, like Marty McFly in Back to the Future, and Paul Walker with his masterful performance in Timeline (you really believe he's a time traveller; just like in Varsity Blues you really believe he's the quarterback of a high school football team and not some 30 year old guy).

But I digress. The fact that I've watched alot of badass time travel movies doesn't really address the true nature of a regret. A regret is only realized in a true sense of immutable change that makes the act or omission irrevocable. For example, after three years of law school, I'm irrevocably an asshole. Don't get me wrong, I have no regrets about that.

The combination of nothing to do and a generalized absence of social interactions has left me with alot of time to ponder my past, present and future. However, I know that if I don't spend my last moments as a Madison resident with the people I know I'll miss, I'll have a third regret to add to the list. Realizing that now is history in action. We can all be the change. And that's my quasi-serious reflection for the month.