I had a horrible feeling when I woke up on Saturday that something bad was going to happen. Choose your own adventure: which of the following events was my premonition anticipating?
1) The bitter, whimpering end of a relationship that dominated my life, in one way or another, for over half a year, consuming all of my mental and emotional energy, sending me into fits of ecstasy and deep depression?
2) The end of a month of sobriety, a month in which I rediscovered Saturday and Sunday mornings, wrote more, smoked more cigarettes, drank more coffee, found an apartment in San Francisco, met the next unrequited love of my life, and made the disturbing discovery that I could stay in on a Friday night watching TV on the internet and playing old PlayStation games and feel perfectly happy, content, serene even?
3) Stanford's loss to TCU, which would have been a fine game if all the eyes of the nation weren't upon us after our photo-finish defeat of number-one-asshole USC, a match-up worthy of its own 80s movie, us as the dorks with anarchic facial hair, USC as the diving team fascists?
4) The horrible moment, which recurred at least thirty times at the recent graduate reunion before the game, when people with actual jobs asked me what I was doing. Four months out from college, I'm falling behind in the race to financial independence.
All of the above, unfortunately.
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