Some deeper stuff
(11/30/12 5:42am)
As I was sitting at my desk preparing to write this column, I was wearing fuzzy socks and sipping peppermint tea. I was also doing some pretty heavy thinking about the cosmos.
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As I was sitting at my desk preparing to write this column, I was wearing fuzzy socks and sipping peppermint tea. I was also doing some pretty heavy thinking about the cosmos.
Hold on to your hats, folks. I’m about to give you a foolproof tip for defunkifying your life. And by defunkifying, I mean pulling yourself out of the bottomless black abyss of doom that is self-obsession.
‘Tis the season, my friends. The season to let loose and be wild. To take risks. To venture into the unknown. To geek out. ‘Tis the season of bookbagging.
It’s been years since I’ve done it, and yet I can remember it like it was yesterday. The paper. The pencil. The dots.
This week could have been bad. One day was cold. One day was steaming hot. One day we all had midterms and papers and projects and mountains upon mountains of homework to complete and emails to respond to. Oh wait, that was every day. But one day, someone I barely knew smiled, waved and greeted me by name. And then I fainted from sheer elation.
Since we are beginning our relationship as columnist and… columnees, I thought it would be fair to tell you a few things about myself. You know, as a way of getting to know each other.
Flying in an airplane is to me as water is to cats. This is ironic because as I write this, I’m sitting on a plane bound for New Zealand, which—for those of you who are as geographically impaired as I was when I bought the plane ticket—is a 13-and-a-half-hour flight across the Pacific Ocean.
Thousands of lives may soon be saved through an action as simple as tearing open a packet of ketchup.