2005-03-07 - 6:59 a.m.

This has been a week of rejection. It must be Official Rejection Letter Season at America's finest universities, because my mailbox has been littered with them. I knew I didn't have a prayer with most of these schools, but the daily bombardment of �thanks but no thanks� form letters has been pretty demoralizing. And I heard from the financial peoples of Trojan Skool of Law. I get nothing. No grant. No scholarship. Not even a wee one. I'm free to explore my options in the wonderful world of borrowing. I feel a little sick thinking about it, so I'm putting it off. Fortunately I have Tivo, so not thinking is a cinch.

Today is my friend Kristine's birthday. A little over a year ago, her mom died in a pointless tragic car accident when she swerved to avoid hitting a raccoon. All day today, I meant to corner the strange woman who works in my workplace's accounting department. She wears billowy floral smocks, smokes 100 Virginia Slims per day, and sings in her church choir. She's our office's official leader in the singing of Happy Birthday, a duty she takes quite seriously. Anyway, I wanted to ask her if she would sing Happy Birthday on Kristine's answering machine. And I forgot. That would've been the sort of treat Kristine would've really appreciated, and I have no doubt smock lady would've done a bang-up job. I feel like a shitty friend. Kristine has had the worst couple of years (to put it mildly). Even though she's pushed people away, I almost think I should have been forcing myself on her. That's just not my way. I know everyone grieves differently. She needed a lot of space. I just should have been around more.

OK, Erik and I just whistled Happy Birthday on her machine, even though I can't really whistle. Erik is one of those skilled Uncle Remus-style whistlers with vibrato and a remarkable range, so he made up for my lack. But still, smock lady would've been much better.

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