My boyfriend made me lunch today.

Such a sweet boy… when he wants to be.

I can’t tell you diddely-squat about Jerod Mayo, the linebacker selected by the Patriots at #10 yesterday, but I do know that if Belly likes him enough to draft him, then he must be A-OK. I’m a little surprised by the Round 3 selection of some QB kid, but again, I don’t know anything about him, even his name escapes me at the moment. At least today marks the first time I can actively look at Patriots-related stuff since you-know-what.

Also today, my boyfriend’s kid has his first little league game of the season.

Not really in the mood to drive to all the way to Woburn to sit in drizzle and have a bunch of old soccer moms (in this case, baseball) give me dirty looks for two hours but whatever. Boyfriend needs a ride up there and since I love him to bits, I’m happy to oblige.

Yesterday I submitted my resume to this amazing company. Now, I’m terrified. What if they don’t like me? What if no one in the office likes me? What if I screw something up and look like an idiot? Worst of all, what if they don’t hire me?

This is why I stay at jobs much longer than I should. I think it’s my hatred of change coupled with my fear of looking dumb. But this time I have no choice. This is the company my sister works for and when I say it’s awesome, I mean it’s awesome. I have been jealous of her forever. You mean, you have bosses that don’t constantly berate you? And they don’t blame you for their mistakes? And you are offered health insurance? Omigod, you get a lunch break!? My standards are very low.

All my fears aside, this is a great opportunity and I have an excellent referral from my sister. It would also be nice to have actual co-workers. And did I mention, lunch breaks?

But most of all, I think my excitement and anxiety is overflowing because today is Wednesday – my most hated of all days of the week. Far more than Monday. Wednesday is the day when I’m trapped at my desk for upwards of 18 hours, slaving away at the computer, answering EVERYONE’S questions (how they managed to publish newspapers before my arrival is beyond me), being given ads most designers would have a week to work on and being told to finish it within the half hour, working on legal notices that require undivided attention but I have to make them while working on 20 other things because that is my job…. ugh. I can literally feel my blood pressure rising. You know that feeling, when you can sense every drop of blood in your body pulsing through your veins. Yeah.

I finally got around to uploading my Chronicle appearance. I hope they don’t mind. I chopped it up to include only my part, so excuse the icky editing.

My favorite part is the choice of music when panning across the “Shrine.” Pure genius. They did such a great job. Even months later, I’m still honored to have been chosen.

For the record, although he is very appreciative of their time and effort, my dad is convinced the appearance helped jinx the Super Bowl. We divulged secrets, he says. We brought outsiders in, he attests.

But the weirdest part of all is when we were filming in the living room, they asked us if we had any Patriots DVDs to pop on the TV. We put in the commemorative Super Bowl 36 DVD and as they were filming us watch TV, the infamous Justin Watson, “I like our chances,” scene popped on screen. “Number One offense in the league,” Watson shrieked. My dad and I shivered. It was almost like foreshadowing. My dad swears that was the moment he knew the Patriots weren’t going to win.

Without further ado…

Concord Hymn
Ralph Waldo Emerson

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, or leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.