An Assortment of Not-Rights

This writer’s block isn’t anything like the one I had my first semester, but it festers in other ways. I wish I had something beautiful to say but my days are filled with talking to the man that works at the Dunkin [he used to live in Chennai, and upon finding out I’m Tamil, started telling me everything about how the city was like when he was there], waking up at 6:30 for the morning adrenaline, and cleaning my room at least thrice. 

I have something to write about: 

*** 

The pulp in the orange juice floats around everytime I flip the bottle upside down. Today, I chose a seat beside the window the way every character overwhelmed with daily activities decides to sit – it really does make way for beautiful thoughts and a sparkling motivation. 

The professor talks about how the Eruption of Mount Pinatubo spurted ash at about 30 km^2/sec. Interesting. The most engaging part of physics are the tidbits of history sprinkled in between. The Eruption takes the spot of #2 Most Interesting Physics Fact. I believe the Paris Gun takes first place. 

Rishi has been acting weird these days – I think he doesn’t really like college. He’s meant for Palo Alto laziness but he’s been living with us since May for an internship at some small shady place on Wall Street that’s not really on Wall street but instead on an intersection of Wall Street.

*** 

That’s all I got. 

I bought a sticker online from an Instagram artist, which was then followed by 3 emails and 4 text messages from my bank telling me I’ve been defrauded [it was, in fact, just me]. I think I have almost 30 different copies of storylines with the same characters I’ve been writing about since I was 15 and this could either become something I take to the grave or something glorious like Donna Tartt’s debut novel (it took her 10 years to write.) I hope it’s the second. I mean, I fit the criteria. Small liberal arts college. Check. Writing a manuscript in college. Check. Writing about a group of friends. Check. Trips to Soho when bored. Check. The only things I don’t fit are the snorting coke and the involvement in a Brat Pack™.

I need a Brat Pack. 

Finals are getting to me, if you can’t tell.