them baggy sweat pants

The about me section on my facebook profile always throws me for a loop. Currently I don't actually have anything, except a brilliant run down of the things that Flo Rida and my man T-Pain like and, apparently, as do I. We are all one in the same.

As summer wraps up, I am plagued with nostalgia -- just as I always am when any passage of time that held any sort of significance ends. I come home to Port kicking and screaming; wishing my time away and longing for Guelph. But, as things boil down, when I realize that things may never be THIS EXACT WAY ever again, I pine for home. I romanticize the way the beach looks at night, or just how much we laughed in Scott's basement, or how much of a raging inferno the illegal fires we lit in Beiner's were (pretty fucking raging, I'd say).

I think I'm a bit like an addict. I'm addicted to beating myself up for not completely appreciating and salvaging every last scrap of memory.

To tie this together: how do you write that about yourself on your profile without sounding like a pretentious bag of douche? Answer: You don't. Instead, you wait until 1:58 in the morning after another night to add to the "Dream for Home" pile and use it over and over again.