I thought I was having some kind of mild anxiety or panic attack as I sat down to start editing my thesis, because I got this weird, achy, clenching pain right underneath my sternum. I watched a little TV, took a break and did some crocheting, and it persisted.

I just ate dinner; the pain was hunger.

February 2007 is going to go down in history as one effed up month. Anna Nicole Smith is DEAD. Britney Spears is BALD. An American Idol reject is going to win an OSCAR. Ghost Rider made FORTY FOUR MILLION DOLLARS.

A bulleted list of various and sundry thoughts:

• MICROWAVE STOP EXPLODING MY POACHED EGGS.
• It is beautiful in Austin--60s, breezy, sunny--so of course the buildings on campus had the heat on.
• I'm starting to get frantic with worry that Satan will not return this season.
• I never thought when I started watching Battlestar Galactica last year, with its darkness and intensity, that my primary interest would still end up being me shouting "MAKE OUT!" at the screen.
• Don't read books about home invasion and scary rape right before you go to bed. Especially if your mommy is several thousand miles away.