Who am I kidding?
At the land of epiphanies, a.k.a gym yesterday (in what I perceive as a short-term solution to all that grease America has given me over the “festive” period) I am struck by how incredibly restless I have become without work to do, eating away the confident surge of exuberance in which I have initially approached the city by. I have baked, painted, read, allowed my life to be dictated around 17-calorie egg whites, and now I can’t wait for January 17th so all this wastefulness in an idle life can be sieved through by the manipulative geniuses of my professors.
In my head I know it’s too simple to wish for war, for open battle, but one cannot help but wish for those situations that make us heroic. Like school, or work, or family arguments. I love Columbia; I love the humbleness of being in such a sterile, thoughtfully-dynamic, and humorous environment with all these organically-talented people, such concoctions amiss elsewhere in memory. Also a huge bonus I get to cross-register with the Business School, in modules with titles I can barely string a sentence to talk about. The only downside, however, is that I remain remarkably awkward around one of my housemates, whom I perceive to be underwhelming, and only ever coming to engagement when gossip and topics remotely relevant to her boyfriend abound.
