Why hasn't the blasted orchestra lady called me and at least said, "Sorry, you suck and you didn't get the gig." Hmmm? At least with the craptacular Craptown Orchestra last year the director at least had the courtesy to lead me on, oh I dunno, for an entire concert season (promising the non-existent piccolo part, of course).

I guess I'd better call the financial aid office or something. I could actually go to the office, but I honestly have no idea where it is, nor would I probably know how to get there even if I did know its location. So yeah. I think my loans are coming, but I don't think they are here yet. Or something. Yeah.

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A-ha! I have thought of something slightly more stimulating to say. Of course, sitting around Sarahland at night, I always seem to think of wondrous things to express to you dear readers, but of course, lacking a computer or lacking the desire to make the sketchtacular walk across campus at night to find one, I always seem to forget them when I do find a computer during the less sketchy daylight hours.

Have you ever heard the expression so-and-so was in the "right place at the right time" or the "wrong place at the wrong time" or any such positive/negative combination of places and times?

It has occurred to me that I have a history of being the wrong person in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong person in the wrong place at the right time. Et cetera, et cetera ad infinitum. I believe I can count about five instances in my life in which I have been the right person at the right place at the right time. See, miraculous luck or Really Good Things or even Really Amazing Things can happen to you and sometimes you can't really appreciate them because you just aren't the right person for that mythical combination of right time and place. Or maybe, just maybe if you are the right person, you can never be in the right place at the right time with another right person. But putting two right people together is a whole 'nother story that must be saved for a later time.... or is it?

Obviously, I have no idea what I'm talking about. Due to a combination of heat, stress, too many freaky-ass ethnomusicology articles to read, and smelling ramen noodles throughout my entire building at 9:30 this morning (seriously people, ramen for breakfast???? really????), my brain has turned into a stale Krispy Kreme that has been put into the microwave longer than the allotted eight seconds to overcompensate for the staleness.

If you just read that and that makes sense to you, I'm very very sorry. :-D

Happy TGI(F)(F)F!

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