My grandmother did the coolest thing ever--she sent me a congratulations card for winning the Koufax. No matter how old I get, it's always nice to know that my grandmother is out there, rooting for me.
The thought of which reminded me of how old I actually am. I turned 27 back in September, which means that I only have 6 months left to become a famous rock star and then die in a mysterious heroin-related incident, leaving behind millions of bereaved fans who turn me into the icon of the generation while occasionally debating if I was really murdered. I think I might have fallen a bit behind in pursuing this goal. I have never even tried heroin, much less learned to play an instrument or sing. I think I may to give this up.
However, there are many other worthy goals to work on. For instance, I really need to learn to cut my bangs in such a way that leaving the house isn't an exercise in shame.