23 in Sweltering Summer Month

.23. Nobody liked you, but write a bit about you, when you were 23.

Me at 23?

Hmmm.

Well, things in the world were really upside down after September 11th.
I was still in radio, even though I’d finished college, and should have been digging hard to get into law school.

But, after undergrad school, I was tired.

I’d been going balls-to-the-wall for at least four years, living in a state of perpetual jetlag. I wanted to break free, but I was stuck.

I was also broke. I paid more in Federal Income Tax for 2009 than I grossed in 2002 or 2003. Note that i said, “Federal Income Tax.” That’s not “payroll taxes,” Democrats. That’s actual evil rich guy income tax.

I was also lonely. Living in the middle of the night a lot of the time helped add to the isolation. I had no idea that I’d meet someone who’d make me happy, and I was really starting to get to the point of giving up on it.

The summer I turned 23, and the fall after, I think I spent a lot of my nights off fishing.

In a lot of ways, though, it seems like a completely different life. I was a different person.