Friday, February 16, 2007

I'm afraid of the mail now. Email. Postal mail. It's all the same when it can all bring tidings of a fucked-over future. When I parked in front of my house this afternoon, I could see that the top of the mailbox was closed all the way. That meant small envelopes only--no giant "welcome to our happy academic family" packets. It turned out to be all junk mail, but before I knew that for sure, my stomach curdled with apprehension.

I want to be excited about all of the possibilities in this--I am a little excited--but the fear is just way too persuasive.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Natasha said...

Jonathan wants you to know that small envelopes also have wait-list letters in them . . . also known as five more months of ulcer breeding.

2/17/2007 9:18 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Seattle is a long commute for dinner anyway. Oh,am I being selfish. Your Mom

2/17/2007 10:59 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That period was to be a question mark. What a mistake to make with an English master!

2/17/2007 11:01 AM  

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