So I just moved to Texas for at least a year in the possibly vain hopes of getting into the UT Austin MFA creative writing program. They have 4 spots for 600 applicants... yeah.....

It really hasn't hit me yet that I won't be going back to Indiana. I think I'm more nervous about all this than I let myself believe.

Dear Life,

Please stop fucking me. I don't like it. This whole one thing after another bit is really pissing me off. At the very least, could you take a break and stop sending so much crap my way all at once? I'd really appreciate the breather. Thank you.

--Austin

Go Colts!!!!!! We've been waiting for this for a long time; we can finally savor being the champions.

Oh, and by the way, since my last post I've graduated college, gone to London, and nearly faced bankruptcy. How's everyone else been?

Ladies and gentlemen, George W. Bush's thunder has officially been stolen. If ever there was a time to get happy-drunk, it is tonight.

So last year, I was studying in Oxford and was planning on going back to a hotel at which I had previously stayed on a Thursday night, because I didn't have any classes on Friday. The morning before I was going to leave, all those 7/7 bombings hit, one of which was right near my hotel. I missed it by a matter of hours.

A few weeks ago, there was a huge fire in my apartment complex that killed a person and damaged or destroyed 36 apartments... one building over from me.

The worst bombing in London since World War II, and I was a few hours away from it. The first fire my apartment complex has had in 30 years and I was one building away from it.

At first I thought I had a guardian angel, and then I wondered if I was some sort of weird catalyst for this shit. But then I realized that I'm not not important. So, what I've settled on is that I have a guardian angel and a demon who's trying to kill me. The demon keeps sending all this shit at me, and my angel doesn't prevent it from happening, but it does remove me one step away from it all. That's perfectly plausible, right?

For the first time ever, I saw the Cubs win at Wrigley Field today! Go me! (And as an added bonus, it came at the hands of the White Sox -- who, incidentally, were not wearing any white).

I don't really like myself all that much at the moment. This situation is made worse by the fact that I'm completely adhering to "self-involved writer who's masochistic" syndrome, even though I'm usually the opposite of self-involved (except of course for times like this). Ugh, such a circular argument... this is why I don't like myself much at the moment....

Random thought of the day: I need freaky!