Make Me Over, Life

There have been more than a few times in life I felt like I needed a do-ever, a chance to start again. Leaving Massachusetts was something I'd been dreaming about since we moved there from Colorado in '88, the whole state leaving me filled with dread. It's hard not to feel heavy-hearted living there much of the year, the greyness filling every memory, soggy humidity drowing every breath. I've found most places in the country have their potential ruined because the people suck, and I wasn't digging many of the people I knew at the time.

Getting a do-over in New York and New Jersey was the perfect opprtunity for me at the time, a new beginning where I was ultimately able to come into my own. Living there was imperative to my own evolution, allowing me to shed a lot of my shyness, and a lot of my anger, finding the voice I'd had to stuff down my throat up until then.

Coming to Denver was the do-over I'd been dreaming of since I was 12 years old, the dreams plaguing me in serial loops over the years, the horizons of mountains stretching across purple landscapes, expanses of sky signifying possibility, images of old friends pulling me ...