All right. So, ok: Not only was I admitted to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology over the weekend, I was also offered a fellowship to cover some of the obsence amount of tuition. Here, see for yourself:
And you thought a year of poverty wouldn't pay off in the end. Shame on you.
I feel elated, as one would, but humble enough to know that total and complete failure was nipping at my heels the entire time. As you may have read, just applying to MIT was a lenghty endeavor, and one I barely accomplished. Random things always seem to be taking me this place and that, and I figured out it's because I'm just arrogant enough to think they could happen to me that I keep trying.
Someday, when I'm a big deal on the lecture circuit, I'll tell a group of wide-eyed students that and they'll believe me, those poor kids.
It's April, at long last.
In a fit of temperate activity, I biked to lunch with Arlie, and then went inside the dank quarters of the Echo Tap to drink Old Style and watch the Cubs lose. The Brewers managed to win, but more importantly, I learned what's it's like to be a middle-aged alcoholic -- taking Jaeger shots with you buddies hours before the college crowd would dare show up, walking a bit tipsily out into the merciless sunlight. If there's one argument against the bender, and there are many, it's the sight of the sun immediately after exiting a dank bunker of a dive bar.
It's also one of strongest arguments I've ever heard in favor of getting cable. But I won't. I'll persist in my life of ongoing inconvience, now enhanced by not owning a working phone. Really -- ancient (now non-functioning) phone, rabbit ears TV that makes me sit at slimy bars if I want to watch baseball, vinly records that I tape to listen to in the car -- how have I survived into this great 2007. Why weren't one of you standing there at the door on New Year's Eve, holding the velvet rope in front of me?
Somebody really dropped the ball on this one. But hey, I got into MIT, so anything could happen.