Hey all! I hope you guys are having a good day so far. You don't know me, and that's okay. My name's Jeremy, and I've decided to start a blog of sorts. What better place to upload my chronicles of life than here, right? Well, I hope I've made the right decision. I suppose I should get introductions out of the way then? I'm your typical college student hoping to get a degree in a field I'll likely never approach in my career. You know, the usual. I figured I'd save a bit of cash and register for courses at my local community college, and that seems to have been the right move. Now I'm riding my way through school on grant money and loads of coffee. Sounds fun, right?

I used to romanticize college life back in the day. I'd picture myself as a kid living on campus, attending parties, and finding the love of my life. Fueled by ramen and espresso, I would stay up late at night studying, followed by a session of gaming with my pals. Needless to say, this idealized version of higher education is far removed from my current reality. Shit, I hardly even know what my campus looks like. I take all of my classes virtually, which entails that I sit behind a computer screen for hours, listening to the droning voice of my instructors as they give their lectures. If you ask me, it's a total drag. I knew I should have taken a gap year.

I find it ironic how as children, we can't wait to grow up. When we look up at adults, we see these big, strong people who can do as they please. They can eat what they want, sleep when they want, and seem to have many privileges in comparison to their adolescent counterparts. This naivety dissipates, however, as the burden of responsibility sets upon us all with the passage of time. I've come to miss the freedom I once had as a kid. Luckily, I've kept a few of my treasured items from the past. Earlier today, I looked through my attic until I found them. Tucked in the corner of the room sat a few cardboard boxes. I took them downstairs and traced my hand along the dusty surface before opening the flaps and peeking inside.

I sifted through a pile of clothes I used to wear. Pressing an old shirt against my chest, I chuckled at how small I used to be. Tossing it aside, I continued rummaging through the various items in the box. Near the bottom sat a black digital camera. Lifting it up, I inspected its surface. It, just like everything else in the box, hadn't been touched in years. My curiosity had been sparked, and I looked through the images it held.

A photograph is like putting time inside of a bottle. We capture a moment and store it, and can view that moment years down the road. As humans, our memory can fail us, but a photograph will always present things as they were. Isn't it such a cool concept? I grinned ear to ear as I saw the small child I used to be.

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There must have been dozens of photos of me in that little device. A flood of memories came back whilst I viewed the images. One photo depicted me swimming in a lake located just a few miles away from my childhood home. Another showed me grinning with glee as I swung on a tire bound to a tree by a rope. Right, that tire swing was on the playground at my former elementary school. I must have spent quite some time reminiscing until I stumbled upon an odd photo. There I was, standing there. I looked as disinterested as could be. Rather than carrying my typical smile, I held a frown on my face.

I wouldn't have thought much of it, had the next few photos not been equally as strange. Between them all, the expression on my face remained consistent. Finally, as I neared the end of the camera roll, I stumbled upon a photo of another child. Although I couldn't recognize him, a sense of familiarity washed over me when I viewed the image. I knew I'd seen his face somewhere before. His bright blond hair and pearly white smile stood in stark contrast with my brooding appearance just a few photos back. There weren't many notable photos following that one, so I put the camera away and continued my nostalgia trip.

I remember my heart skipping a beat as I found the white pouch slouched against the edge of the box. I hastily picked it up and unzipped it. Slipping my hand inside, I pulled out the blue Nintendo DS (a DSI in particular), and stared at it in awe. Grabbing the power chord and plugging it into the wall, I connected it to my DS and pressed the power button. My eyes sparkled with glee as the screen lit up and displayed the signature Nintendo DS logo, before promptly taking me to the home screen. If you're a 2000's kid, you know how fun these things were. Hell, I bet we all share memories of staying up late, watching the faint glow of the screen as we played our favorite games.

I fiddled around with the keypad a bit, scrolling through the page and observing the applications. Noticing there were no games displayed on the home screen, I turned the device around and glanced at the back. There was no game cartridge plugged in. Frustrated, I sighed and set the DS down, ready to explore through the box further. That is until I got the idea to look deeper into the white bag. Upon further inspection, I realized it held a single game within it. The chip lacked any art or title, so I couldn't tell what exactly the game was. Shrugging, I pushed it into the cartridge holder of the DS until I heard a click.

Finally, I was presented with the game on the home screen. The title read "Township: Village!".

Holy. Shit.