Hello, Ithaca.  Goodbye Thanksgiving break.  I'm sitting here in my still unpacked, messy room, mulling over everything except statistics.  Fuck statistics.  

I'm wondering why I continue to publish my internal reveries to an audience that doesn't exist.  No one knows about this blog (although if they were interested enough to search me they'd find it easy enough).  It's like writing a message in a bottle and casting it out into the sea.  Maybe someone will find it.  And then what?

I wonder how many people address letters to God and put them in the mail. There has got to be a fair amount of letters like that. Where do all those letters go?  Someone should publish them.