Cosmic messages.

My Google Anayltics site has installed in me a very particular type of ambition.
And that is an ambition to increase my procrastination allotment by blogging more. Because I like the idea that people read this. It gives me warm fuzzies.

now if only I could think of something to blog about...

You see, I've reached the point in my stay here where it feels normal. I've gotten into the swing of things at school, and it's a familiar swing. Fewer things are new, I have found my "ordinary." Everything feels natural and routine. I've even become accustomed to feeling lost and stupid when I can't understand people.

And as so much ordinary, it has come to feel mundane and uninteresting.

But then, every once in a while, something shakes me up a bit. Like Tuesday. Now, I read my horoscope every day, I am highly and oddly superstitious what with all the knocking on wood, tossing spilled salt over my shoulder and keeping to fortuitous routines, and I believe that I'm a little bit psychic. So it's safe to say that I "go in for that sort of thing."
So Tuesday. Tuesday I was walking across campus and I noticed a man on crutches in faded old jeans who was missing a leg. Later I was walking down a hallway and my attention was arrested by a table lying on its side, missing a leg. Then, as I was walking home through the park that night, having missed the bus, I watched a man playing with his dog under a street light. As I passed, the dog stopped and looked up at me and, illuminated in the streetlight, I could see that it only had three legs.

I walked home seriously freaked out for the first time in a long time. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is not. It's something else. A conspiracy maybe?
Well, whatever the universe is trying to tell me has been lost on me. It should speak to me as it would to a five year old, the same as I expect anyone who speaks to me in Spanish to do.

And the worst part was that my horoscope, which I usually regard as a casual guide to extraordinary happenings, was completely unhelpful.