Greetings from a library. I am sitting opposite M in an understuffed red chair from the eighties. We're on the fourth floor, the floor no one ever visits, ensconced by shelves of outdated biology reference books and noisy, smelly heater vents. I suspect a population of vagrant elderly in the ventilation system. Ostensibly I am writing a proposal for a wireless ethernet design, which I'll have to code in two weeks. You can guess how well that's going.

M is adjusting her beanie and dog-earing her novel, Letters from an American Farmer. Thrilling stuff. She has new loves--people-wise, I mean. Officially I don't know who the lucky gal is, but I have it on good authority (i.e. Facebook) that M is once again taken with a mailgirl. I don't blame her. Bizarrely, everyone under the age of 25 who works in the mailroom is gorgeous; the men have roguish winks and sharp button-up shirts; the ladies have pristine complexions and model smiles. And this finally explains M's insistence that I check mail with her every other weekday, twice a day, 10am and 3:30pm. The mailgirl is always there--blase in the morning, chirpy in the afternoon. M flashes a sunny greeting smile at the girl every time. We've done this for the last three weeks. I have been lending what moral support I can without letting on that I know, which amounts to the sending of telepathic messages of good will--no results so far. I'm considering a more directing approach: roasting a pair of hightop sneakers with some rosemary, leaving it at M's doorstep, and hoping she gets the point.

This week is crunch week as far as getting my shit together is concerned. This coming Monday I'll be registering for spring term's classes, and my plan--what little there is--hinges on the assumption that Wikipedia counts as a prerequisite class. I need to talk to my academic advisor--and did you know? Firefox's spell checker prefers "adviser" to "advisor."

And I am now, officially, a Chinese minor. My teacher wants me to go abroad for a summer. I am, apparently, "the perfect student for a Chinese study experience." I have my doubts; I wouldn't describe my Chinese knowledge as better than rudimentary. Plus, being halfway around the world and clueless terrifies me. Though maybe that's the point.