College was…well…weird. I graduated, and I had some good times, and I had some very bad times. But you know what was really awesome? I found out who the Rapture was one day while living at our old apartment at 210 Cornish Drive Apt A. That building isn’t standing anymore, but cowbell will never die! We had more than one night where I would turn on my $6 Walmart-bought strobe light and I would bang on the cowbell I bought on ebay and everyone else would bang on pots and pans and dance around to this jam, partying our asses off. I now have a near-complete half sleeve depicting the Rapture on my right arm. Part of that is out of a fearful obsession put into me by Tribulation House (the Christian alternative to a Halloween haunted house) and part of it is out of remembrance of a nervous breakdown involving delusions about the end of the world I had while weening myself off of some bad habits and going through some tough times. But I’d like to think another subconscious reason for getting that tattoo is as a reminder to never forget how to PArty PArmy-style!