Ever since last Sunday, I've felt like I'm in Junior High.

Mind you: it has nothing to do with the situations in my life. It's not as if I've begun doodling pictures of Kurt Cobain on the back of my spriral notebooks again.

And it has nothing to do with people either. No one is resembling Gehlen Catholic Junior High's Mr. Fox (although my friend Neil - just like that beloved science teacher - has challenged me to find a male calico cat for extra credit points).

Nor have I been engaging in popular-culture materials from that time period either. There's not one single copy of "The Hatchet" in my apartment and I haven't listened to the "Angus" soundtrack in weeks. Weeks!

No. This is entirely based on moods and smells and environments and those intangible feelings in my stomach. Gah. I haven't felt like this since 1995.

Maybe I accidentially travelled back in time and haven't realized it yet.

Speaking of time travel, Adam, Chris, Emily, and I are going to a screening of "Back to the Future" tonight. Screenwriter Bob Gale will be introducing the film.

I'd like to have Mr. Gale autograph my hover-board, but unfortunately, it's in the shop. I'm getting it fixed because I got it all wet. Apparently, hover-boards don't work on water... unless you got power!