I had some weird times in Boulder. I think that looking back I probably chose an out of state college so I could do my own thing. Let to my own devices “my own thing” was basically get wasted every night, do drugs, and make questionable decisions. I was pretty good at making questionable decisions. It’s probably good that I don’t remember most of them because the ones I do are not good. There was just so much to do out there in terms of drugs but also in terms of activities. I went to concerts at Red Rocks that were AMAZING ( I think, damn mushroom chocolates) I went hiking, I went cliff jumping, the variety was incredible. But did I really get to enjoy these experiences to the fullest if I was fucked up for most of them?
Anyway I decided eventually that Boulder was too much of a party school and that if I wanted to graduate I’d need to come back to Minnesota. This was my first geographical, thinking that the city I was in was just too much. I don’t remember calling mom at all. I remember trying to organize plans to make it seem like a good idea for me to come home. I lived out there for the summer after school was out and I distinctly remember how LONELY I was. I don’t know any other way to emphasis that feeling than capitalizing the word. I remember sitting in my garden level apartment with no one. I didn’t have any friends to call because I hadn’t made any. I had acquaintances that I partied with but no one that I could even text and see how they were. It was horrible, so isolating and I didn’t realize at the time but it was kind of devastating. I was like I’m on my own and there’s no one here to be with me. Now did I choose this and did my actions create the reality I was in at that point? Yes. But it wasn’t until much later that I realized that. So me, myself, and I decided it was time to come home and start over. Ahh the best laid plans.