New Year's Eve and New Year's Day...
The Good
Michigan 38, Florida 30 in the Outback Bowl. So far, Michigan, Purdue, Minnesota, and Wisconsin have won their bowl games; Penn State is the Big Ten's only loss. Iowa plays tomorrow, against Southern Cal, and Ohio State takes on Miami of Florida in Friday's national champioship game. Remember, Big Ten loyalty extends to all but Michigan State; so, though it slightly pains me to say it, go Bucks! (And please, let's not have a riot this time. Ha ha.)

Today, I finished In Pharaoh's Army and I'm rapidly devouring Back in the World, both by Tobias Wolff. When I return to Ann Arbor, I may have to reread The Night in Question, his latest collection of short stories.

Although more will be said about this in our next catagory, I'm really grateful for the old friends I've been able to see this past week. Lying in bed earlier, I was trying to get in a funk about Lindsay's boyfriend, but I just couldn't; all I could think of was how she felt in my arms as we said goodbye and all seemed right with the world.

The Bad
Lindsay and Skeeter have returned to Berkeley and New York, respectively. Saturday Night Latham, Boof Daddy, Steve Reed, Mr. & Mrs. Blinky, all gone as well, scattered once again to the four winds. It will never make sense to me why we abandon our friends to pick up stakes and move across the country. (Nevertheless, within months I will be a resident of Boston, Massachusetts. Go figure.) Anyway, they're all gone, and it will be too long before I see any of them again.

For no discernable reason, today I puked my guts out. After the Outback Bowl, I started to feel an odd sensation from my stomach, and by the end of the Penn State-Auburn game (the Capital One Bowl, formerly the Citrus Bowl), I had to rush upstair and ralph. Since then, I've felt vaguely ill and I am seriously concerned that I may have to bail on BTW Day tomorrow. Damn it, no, not BTW Day... son of a bitch, of all the rotten stinking timing.

The Ugly
Saturday, December 28 and Monday, December 30 were two of the best days of my life. Honestly, though I feel like shit right now, I'm actually rather hopeful for the future. In one of Wolff's stories, "Sister," I encountered this passage:

A few minutes ago she had nearly been killed and now there was nobody to talk to about it, to see how afraid she was and tell her not to worry, that it was over now. That everything was going to be all right. And Marty understood that there was never going to be anyone to tell her these things. She had no idea why this should be so; it was just something she knew.

I have things I want to say about hope and desperation, but I've tried several drafts and right now I just don't have it in me to say them properly. Nevertheless, I can say with great certainty that the reign the dark bastard enjoyed in November shan't return soon; though she's broken my heart countless times before, at present I am once again a devoted believer in the fairest of maidens, Hope. Or at the very least, the hope that there is hope.