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I thought that it was going to be the worst paper of my college career. I didn't wait until the day before it was due. I waited until the day that it was due. I woke up at 6:00 AM, went back to bed until 6:30 AM, got up, wrote the paper and went to class at 9:00 AM. I didn't put any love into the paper; I didn't put any true effort into the paper.

The grade that I got on the paper: 110%

Tom Tancredo announced that he would drop out of the race if the Rockies lost the world series if Mitt Romney would drop out of the race if the Red Sox lost the world series.

I now officially declare my full allegiance to the Boston Red Sox. I hate the Colorado Rockies and do not want them to win. It has nothing to do with a love for Romney; it has everything to do with a hatred for Tancredo.

I'm sick and pretty much have been all week. I've only gone to one class, and, while I was there, I proceeded to sleep my way through the class in the front row. Despite the sickness, I still managed to go to a concert shindig of a travelling band from Kenya. I sat in the audience trying to appreciate the beauty of their culture. Somehow, I felt uncomfortable that everyone else was treating the event as a novelty. For me, it was important to keep in mind that the oddities that we laugh at are completely normal for another culture and should be treated as such. Anyway, I don't know why I'm even bringing it up: they weren't offended and… that's not even what I wanted to talk about.

After the event, there was another event — an international coffee house. Personally, I hate coffee. It is the devil's drink. I would eradicate it from the earth and replace it with tea just because it tastes better and is healthier for you. However, the word international is magical to me. So… I went.

I sat around and sipped my tea for a long time period. It wasn't until the end that I had made a shocking realisation: I was one of maybe three Americans¹ in a room of nearly thirty or forty. It just amazed me how everyone in this room had one thing in common: none of them were from America. However, I held the thing that none of them held in common, but I was really in my element. Plus, I was good at it. I wasn't even trying, but native Spanish speakers were convinced that I was from Spain or at least lived there simply because of my accent.

I met a woman from Kenya named Alfreda who was majoring in communications at a university in Africa. I met two women who were from Nicaragua and another whose mother was from the same town as my sister. Throughout the course of the evening, people from four different continents listened to songs in Spanish, English, Italian, Swahili and other African languages.

I don't understand what it is about the world that's outside of this country that I love so much. I'm just dying to get out there and live among them. I really have no love for America. I mean, I have a baseball cap of my favourite team that I won't wear just because it has an American flag on it.²

1. If you can really call me an American.
2. They lost, by the way.

I always said that if it ever came down between the team of the land that I do belong to and the team of the land that I would really want to belonging to, I'd go with the home state. I didn't actually ever believe that it would ever come down to that.

Like every day of the week, I made my way to work. I had planned to skip lunch to save money, but as I walked into the office, I felt that I needed something to eat. The great part is that in southeastern Siloam Springs, there's only one good restaurant… Taquería El Rancho. Being only one-hundred metres from my place of work, I easily could have walked over and gotten lunch. Instead, like the hypocritical environmentalist that I am, I drove.

Just like any other time that I set foot inside the restaurant, I asked the owners of the place in Spanish how they were doing. She asked me how I was. I ordered my food. I got a discount. I tipped the cashier (like I always do when I get the discount). Then, I waited for my food.

While I was waiting, a woman came in through the doors. She immediately greeted me and asked me how I was doing. Despite the fact that I had no clue whatsoever who the hell this woman was, I basically chalked my way through the conversation and talked about how much the restaurant rocked (since we were both there, I could assume that we agreed on that).

I kind of think I know who it was, but I'm not quite sure. If it is who I think that it is, I'm really glad that I didn't ask. Otherwise, I'd be calling myself a schmuck. Of course, I'd do that anyway since I forgot who this woman was.

Okay, I think that it's a little bit grievously evil for a professor to offer an extra-credit question on a test asking what baseball team is the best in the nation and only allowing Diamondbacks as a correct answer. I think that it's unfair to have such an opinionated question on a test. Of course, I wouldn't be so upset if the Rockies were the right answer. Still, this means war — not evil, hateful war, but creative, obnoxious war.

Regardless, it looks like it's coming down to a Red Sox/Rox contest. It's my best worst dream come true.

Yeah, Monday night, I made a short little trip to Tulsa to pick a friend up from the airport. Amazingly, I was able to pick up 850 KOA all the way in Oklahoma. The reason why picking up a Colorado radio station in the far corner of Oklahoma is that in the entire history of the Colorado Rockies, they have only made the playoffs once… until Monday night. In what has to go down as the best baseball game in history,¹ the Rox came away with a victory against the Padres. I know that it's wrong, and I shouldn't do it, but I ended up praying that the Rockies would pull through.

They did… in the thirteenth inning.

As I picked Marshall up from the airport and headed back to Siloam, I had to deal with the unfortunate misfortune of having my headlights die on me. Being late in the evening, we really had no choice but to wait for the light of day before we could travel back to Siloam. Anyway, I did the prayer thing again, but the lights didn't turn on. I felt like maybe I had used up all of my faith like a priest in Age of Empires. I felt like I could have good headlights or have my favourite baseball team advance to the playoffs. Since Marshall was the one who I was inconveniencing by making him sleep in a McDonald's parking lot, it meant a lot when he told me that I had my priorities straight.

Now that my favourite baseball team is actually good, maybe I can burn my Red Sox hat. I only liked the Red Sox because I was too ashamed to like the Rox. Plus, it was a gift from an old girlfriend who I would really like to forget.

1. Shut up! I'm young.