What I really spent the semester doing OR I'm not actually obsessed with my neighbor

Ok, so you know the title's not actually true, because denials are--without loss of generality--never true.

That said, here's what I spent the semester doing:

1. Reading articles...and more articles
2. Writing papers...and more papers
3. Practicing for a real job by showing up for my 8 a.m. class at 8ish.
4. Pushing the limits of my ride's carrying capacity (AKA stuffing as much crap as possible into the milk crate bungied to the back of my bike).
5. Thinking about how cold my feet are (activity is not unique to this semester, but rather is a constant activity that gives my life consistency)
6. Pondering the imminent doom of the journalism-as-we-know-it industry
7. Wondering why people never warn me about things (namely, why people didn't tell me about #6 before I started studying journalism and why people never warned me that #1 and #2 are all you ever do in grad school)
8. Defending liberals to my conservative friends and conservatives to my liberal friends...and struggling with my personal love/hate relationship with both.
9. Trying to become the kind of person who isn't ashamed to admit that she likes drinking box wine.
10. Becoming a defender of Communism. Not because of its merits, but rather because I get tired of people immediately writing it off as being merit-less and...dangerous.
11. Being glad that we don't actually live in a Communist nation. That would mean food rationing, and I certainly needed more than my fair ration of frozen food to survive this semester.

Is he just toying with my heart every time he drives down the street toward my house?

Different women are wooed in different ways. If a man ever asked how best to woo me, I think I would have to say, "Move into the house across the street from me, walk your dog around the neighborhood every day, put up an Obama sign in your front yard and NEVER TALK TO ME."

I only say this because that's what my SWM neighbor has done, and it's been pretty effective. And by effective I mean all he has to do is ask and my dance card is his. Problem is, he is completely clueless. He has no idea that I'm secretly in love with him.

In case you aren't creeped out enough, here's one more thing: I just talked to him for the first time a couple weeks ago. On my birthday. It was pretty much my best birthday present this year. I will transcribe the conversation for you exactly as it happened:

Me (Riding my bike out of my driveway on the coldest day yet of winter): "It's way too cold to be biking."

Him (Also riding his bike down the driveway, directly across from me such that he is socially required to respond): *smile*

So yeah, I think there's definitely something there.