Today I got a card in the mail that hoped I was never sorry for any of my decisions, and therewith resolved not to be. But if I could regret something, it might be that I didn't spend enough time at home over break—and by home I mean it in the literal sense: my house, my parents, my brother. Then again, what I did with my time over break was the result of my own decisions, which I am not allowed to regret. So the only remedy. Today's my mom's birthday, which I guess cajoled these thoughts that'd been swirling through my mind during the past few days to actually manifest themselves on paper. Or on electron pulses. Whichever better stimulates your imagination and floats your tray, I suppose. (The "float your tray" is derived from my zany roommate Roopa, who one day decided that she needed pesto sauce on her french fries and was given a weird look, a shrug, and a "hey, whatever floats your boat!" by some guy at the pasta bar, and then replied, "no, whatever floats your tray!" and was proud enough of herself for this witty, witty statement that she almost patted herself on the back—but, oh, wait, she's neither Karla nor Vijay.)

It's a cool, foggy, beautiful morning, and I'm actually glad that I had to wake up at 7:45 to go register for ME101. When I first locked up my bike and hurried into the lobby of building 530, I was pretty worried by the length of the line... but as it turns out, the line was for all of the ME classes, so I was pretty far up on the list. Continuing on about classes...

My result from the Computers and Human Language seminar was about as arbitrary as it gets: number 5 on the wait list. Since I applied mostly out of curiousity, even a clear and decisive rejection might be better. Now I have to calculate whether getting into a 16-person class from the fifth spot down the waitlist is even remotely possible, and I'd like to make that decision before tonight's cutoff for the first batch of IHUM reassignments. Details, details.