I’m hopeful every self–respecting senior has, as I do, a bucket list. I have neither the space nor chutzpah to enumerate my personal bucket list here. For those who don’t have one, take comfort in knowing that mine is too long and mostly impossible and any points of completion will surely offer little solace when it actually comes time to graduate. In thinking about how best to utilize this column to cross something off my bucket list, however, I would like to issue a formal search warrant for my apparent doppelgänger, Tanya.
If it wasn’t necessary to the comprehension of this story, I would hide the fact that I frequent Einstein’s pretty regularly.
You’ve got two choices: chocolate or vanilla. If you really like pistachio, you can technically choose pistachio, but you’re still going to get either chocolate or vanilla, so you might as well choose between those two.
At Penn, liking chocolate means you fit in.
Standing on the corner of 43rd and Market with my weight in canned food sitting like a ton of steel inside my housemate’s hiking–sized megabackpack, my spine caving into an awful kind of inverted “U,” I truly began to understand the concept of the sophomore slump.
Throughout my time at Penn, I’ve amassed a truly unfortunate number of “that girl” monikers: “that girl who tweets a lot,” “that girl who makes sarcastic comments,” “that girl with the glasses,” to name a few.
I want to propose something. I know that it’s radical, dangerously so, but, with any luck, some of this world’s problems could be solved with just one simple change in our daily lives: we should look at each other. How often do you pass someone on campus, just casually walking by, and they simply refuse to look at you?
It’s happened to the best of us. You spend the evening chatting it up with someone in your hall/suite/living unit and end with that fateful question: “Hey, what time do you have class tomorrow?” The other person answers: “10 a.m.” You obviously start at 10 and pose the question: “Hey, wanna walk over together?” The person nods excitedly and your plan is set.
Stop right there.
That was a terrible idea.
It was 2 a.m. when I got off the plane in Kolkata, India, and immediately I noticed two things: the heat, which was almost suffocating, and the condition of the airport, which consisted of only two gates.
The Word on the Street column often ends with some sort of inspirational conlusive statement. This one was going to end with praise of the concept of “discovery”. In a fit of inspiration, I decided to skip the actual article.
All I’ve seriously ever wanted from a bus ride is to lean back in my seat, close my eyes and concentrate on hoping no one can hear that I’m listening to the same Simon & Garfunkel song on repeat.
I’m not sure if it’s because no one is ever this lucky, or just that the Gods of Transportation hate my guts, but peaceful bus trips are few and far between.
Before Penn, I can’t remember the last time I had a boring friend. I’m not talking about the kind of boring defined as “not interesting,” but rather the kind of boring friend who’s content with just watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days on your couch on a Friday night, while the rest of the world is at an Avicii concert.
[Please see ed. note at bottom of post]
I have given myself a mission. Nope, it’s not to finish my freshman year with a 4.0, nor is it to use all my meal swipes by the end of the semester, nor is it even to successfully get into Smoke’s.