Ever go back to an old apartment you once lived at, even just passing by? I think in L.A., with everything so spread out, it’s easy to never do that.

But today I had rehearsal w/ some friends for the upcoming show and we did it at my guitarist’s place, in the same apartment complex I once lived in for three years. Tough three years, those. But also some very meaningful times, as well, many of them relationship-oriented. This afternoon when I drove those winding, up and down stretches of freeway I hadn’t seen in so long and passed the familiar signs and buildings in that town I used to live in, I couldn’t decide whether it felt like revisiting that place was just a dream or if all the time that had *passed* since then was the dream. I almost wished for the latter.

At the very least, I wish I could go back and shake my old self and tell him what was in store for him in the future. I think things would’ve turned out differently on a personal level, if not on a career level.

Dear old life: there are many things about you that I don’t miss at all. Why is that all I can think about are the things I do?