Good things happen in November.

I am a somewhat superstitious individual. I have to set my alarm and microwave timer to certain numbers. I have to sleep with things a certain way. I have to shave a certain leg first. And I have to wake up and, before I can say anything else, say a certain word on the first day of each month.

I forgot to say that word when I woke up on November 1, 2009.

I woke up at my parents' house on the morning of November 1, and said, "whyyyy?" to Pops, as he opened my door to wake me up way too early. He shrugged and left. Then I freaked out. I thought about all the things November would bring, and then thought about how everything might turn out terribly because I forgot to say it. So I said it 10 times really fast, in hopes that this would save my month from being a complete disaster. -- So far, so good. In the first week of November, the Yankees won the World Series and I passed the Bar Exam. Comparable achievements, I'd say.

In other news: In the past two months or so, I have been running into people I know constantly. Over 8 million people reside in New York City. Of those 8 million, I probably know about one hundred. I'm no math whiz, but I'd say the odds of running into people I know should be pretty slim. And I don't mean just running into people from school at alumni events (of which I have attended zero) or seeing someone from work a few blocks away from the office (which I have successfully avoided being near during work hours).

I ran into a friend from high school on my way to the movies, in a part of town in which none of the movie-goers lived. During a recent trip, I ran into an ex's best friend (to whom I have not spoken since said ex and I broke up more than a year ago) in a random part of LA. I ran into a college friend around the corner from my apartment, and then another one at the airport on my way home from Austin. I ran into Sister's best friend from high school at a candy store in Manhattan, and I ran into a soon-to-be co-worker who lives in Brooklyn, buying a shower curtain in downtown Manhattan. Today, while eating lunch, I ran into an old camp friend I hadn't seen since before I went to college, and a few weeks ago I ran into someone from that same camp in a Starbucks on the upper west side. There is only one explanation for all of this. I am clearly emitting some sort of magnetic force that is pulling anyone I've ever met in my life towards me. [Did I mention I just watched Fantastic Four 1 and 2?] This is a warning, people. If you see someone with newly trimmed bangs who you think might be me, even in a random part of town where I would be unlikely to step foot, it's me. Say hello. Or smile and wave. Or nod. Or just walk past me with the knowledge that you avoided an awkward run-in. (But then, if a run-in with me would be awkward, then why are you reading my blog? Huh? Right.)

One more thing: Maine, I used to like you. A lot. I shopped at your outlet malls and ate your fine fresh shellfish. I enjoyed your cute little seaside towns and trading posts and took advantage of your lower sales tax. But, Maine, you have let me down. While I will still probably do all of the things I just mentioned, I now like you less. That is all.