After a brief jet lag/move-in/scene production night hiatus, I'm back - more in the geographic sense, ie: back in New Haven, than in the blogging sense, as I wasn't properly gone in the first place.

Partially because I'm trying to be good and patient (which is, frankly, a trial enough on its own), and partially because I feel like my integrity rides on it to some degree, I've spent the past hour or so seriously listening to music.
The feat, unto itself, sounds rather unimpressive, since I listen to music more or less all the time: when I'm walking to the gym, when I'm at the gym, when I'm cleaning, when I'm trying to avoid cleaning, etc. I'm basically the poster child for the oft-lamented "ubiquity of the iPod" ("But Daddy, I want an iPhone NOW!"), but that has as much to do with anti-social, interaction avoidance (see also: my sunglasses) as it does with artistic appreciation.
What makes this particular endeavor more significant, however, is the lack of the "when," which is to say, the complete absence of other distractions. It's hard. I'm clearly failing, as I write this, because I'm writing this. But whatever. It's hard. And it would be harder if I hadn't just hooked up my (reasonably not awful/tinny) speaker and were instead trying to listen on my computer's small, unreasonably tinny speakers.

I like having my own place. I should have moved off campus years ago, except not because I probably wouldn't be living in this room, which I really like and feel "at home" in, had Felicia and I hastily scrambled for a (probably faux-luxury, almost certainly overpriced) apartment before junior year. Perhaps my outlook will be slightly less rosy, however, next time I have to pay a utility bill or scrub the bathroom tile.