My mind entraps the significant and insignificant all the same. I have an excellent memory. It's worked to my advantage when cramming the night before exams, when quoting a movie with my friends, or when recalling the name of the vaguely familiar face of the girl who seems to have missed you immensely.

But sometimes the magnitude of my memory embarrasses me, and I downplay the visions I recall, or better yet, act as though they don't exist. I'd never tell my ex-girlfriend that I remember the shirt and pants we were wearing during our first kiss. Never let the hot blonde in my criminology class know I can recite her first and last name, where she grew up, and how she likes her eggs. Would never admit I can still name the actors from Full House.

Scott Weinger played DJ's boyfriend, Steve.

I'm afraid of showing people how much I remember about them. It creates the image that I hold things close to my heart that others would deem forgettable. I'm like the obsessive fan who can instantly tell you anything and everything about Emma Watson. You're impressed by his knowledge, but feel a tad uneasy that someone would remember so much about something so unextraordinary.

I am everyone's obsessive fan. I remember when you wanted to be an engineer, the one on the choo choo train. I remember your favorite flavor of Gatorade, Green Squall. I remember that your parents went to University of Nebraska and maintained a long distance relationship. I remember your last name is Miller. I remember that your girlfirend, a girl I've never met, fell in love with you in April of 2000, three weeks after prom. I remember that Usher's "U Got it Bad" gave you goosebumps.

But I don't have faith that you remember that in high school I wanted to be a radiologist, that my favorite ninja turtle was Donatello, that I got my middle name from an old doo-wop singer, that we met playing ultimate frisbee. That my name is Anthony.

And when I've been completely erased from your mind, I wonder why you won't escape mine.

A Few Things
1) You know when it's too hot? When you say to yourself, 'maybe I should've put deodorant on my balls.' --Lewis Black. For all you people who don't live here, let me explain something: no matter how idealistic Florida weather may seem, to live through it 11.5 months of the year, 21 years straight, gets a little monotonous.

2) Why does the health food aisle at Publix hold the candy station?

3) My life, in cliche: The most consistent thing I have going for me right now, is my inconsistency.

4) Ingredients for a successful Glutton Bowl '03: hamburgers, hot dogs, chips, Dr. Pepper, chicken wings, brownies, pizza, malt liquor

5) Best restaurant in Gainesville, pound for pound: Ballyhoo.

6) When I woke up Saturday morning afternoon, I found a bowling ball in our backyard.

7) My Top 5 movie list has had two vacant spots for a while now, but now that Swingers finally earned itself a spot, we're down to one free spot left. Maybe Glitter.

I may have narrowed the list of cities I will live in next year to four. In order of likelihood...

1. Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
2. Charlottesville, Virginia
3. New York
4. Gainesville, Florida

After I reread the sentence on the University of Virginia website, my stomach sunk to the floor. I must have lost all pigment in my face. I called frantically in desperate search for the tiniest loophole, and each time I found only barricade. I called my mom for any possible help, a friend for comfort, secretaries for mercy. Over an hour passed, the clock struck 5, and that was it. Businesses closed, workers left their offices, and I had created a blunder that I might not be able to fix.

I walked away from my room and down the hall. There were people in the other room, my roommates and one of their girlfriends. It's fitting that they were all contemplating what they were gonna do in a year, decisions that could very well affect the rest of our lives. Everyone envied me, thought I had it all figured out. I thought I did too. But I messed up.

Long story short, my scores for an exam required for PhD psychology programs will not be available until a few days after application deadlines. These deadlines are, apparently, quite strict, and there's no way to take the test or get my scores sent any earlier. None of my applications would be complete by deadline. I cannot get accepted for next fall.

All this happened for a reason. I'm just trying to figure out why. Perhaps God is telling me that I'm not ready, lacking the proper life experience, to enter the research, clinical world. Maybe I'm destined to go to Penn State, my number one choice and the most attractive education alternative to not immediately beginning PhD work (I'd work on a Master's). It could be that I need to learn to be more aggressive and ask for help and guidance when making life-changing decisions.

I'm somewhat sad and embarrassed by the whole situation, particularly since there is no finger to point but directly back at myself. I'll try to sort things out in the next few days. But one thing's for sure: for reasons good and bad, unfortunate and exciting, I have little clue as to where I'll be and what I'll be doing this time next year.