So. Spring Break. Spring Break? Spring Break.
Here’s what was supposed to happen over Spring Break: I was supposed to do my History B paper, and clean, and look for an apartment, and look for a job, and take things easy (somehow...perhaps by going to New York and having a whirlwind adventure where I have drinks with a friend from back home, and I see the city in a different light).
Here’s what really happened over Spring Break: I caught a cold. It snowed (and the snow hung around for the entire week). I had an emotional fling with a guy who lives 4 states away. (Like, what?) I interviewed three artists for my internship but still somehow did not produce a single article. I re-wrote about half of the Campus Climate Action Plan. Did not touch the history paper, nor go anywhere near the broom. Applied to two jobs, with the severe hope that one will hire me. (Given the ratio of jobs applied to/job offers extended in the last 12 months, neither of them will hire me.) Glanced at apartments for rent and turned disgustingly away. Went to the gym once, cause my earphones broke the Friday starting Spring Break, and I was waiting on a new pair. And I went to New York! For one day. Where I spoke to no one. I read my friends’ theses in a tea house in Brooklyn, walked the Brooklyn Bridge, lost complete cell reception in Prospect Park (seriously, AT&T, if ever there was a place in Brooklyn to get raped/shivved/mugged, it’s Prospect Park, and the very second I step foot onto the green, all the bars went flat. Handing you a very pretty WTF card on that one), and went to a museum in Chelsea, just outside of which I saw the following piece of graffiti:
And that was my Spring Break. God Don’t Like Ugly, people. Stay Fat. If only it were that simple.
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