By A.J. Newberry, Cartoonist
8:30 AM: Eyes closed, smirking, I reach my hand over to suspend the alarm on my phone. How foolish my device is to take me for self-flagellant. Time is impotent, for man is doyen of the agenda.
10:48 AM: Sparked with the might of day, I hurtle from my dejected sheets. How silly are those who make beds, only to thrash them about so shortly later. Long ago I decided breakfast is terribly indulgent, and a big breath of fresh air is basically all one needs.
10:58 AM: Perceiving that I will have ample downtime in academia’s woeful attempt at higher education, I’ve prepacked my book bag with the new Chuck Klosterman book, Post-it notes for my crazy ideas, and four copies of The Hollywood Reporter.
11:12 AM: Arriving to class perfectly fashionably on time, I have the attention of the entire class as I stroll back to my seat in the first row. I pity those who must stare at me, their attention spans destroyed by a compulsion to socialize digitally with the person sitting next to them.
11:14 AM: Possessing the unique knowledge only found in an episode of Royal Pains in 2010, I seized a moment of physical hinderance and transported myself to the lavatory. While neutralizing the deviation, I capitalize on the recess from activity by virtually observing the social activities of my supposed peers.
12:30 PM: I head to the library for a large black coffee and sweet iced tea, to be drunk promptly to before an hour of homework. Before the hour is over I will receive two emails from members of a club of which I am the treasurer (my choice). I will not dignify them with responses; they must learn to be independent.
3:30 PM: My favorite class of the day is cancelled, but I am too busy to express emotion. My overly ecstatic classmates only reveal their ineptitude and isolate themselves further from what I deem socially acceptable.
3:45 PM: I surmise that the best use of my time is a power nap. To avoid the possibility of appearing powerless, I stand like a horse. Horses are valiant.
6:20 PM: My power nap was too powerful and now I am famished. I replenish my vitals with meat, cheese and a pint of melted Ben and Jerry’s. People stare.
8:20 PM: I come home and shut my door. This is time of privacy.
9:00 PM: I am politically against homework and have intentionally let my computer die. My phone too. I break both my arms and intend to orally present my assignments for the remainder of the year.
11:30 PM: I phone my mother incessantly, leaving messages filling her in on all my romantic exploits. She wants lots of grandchildren and I intend on giving them to her.
1 AM: Flood the kitchen to teach my roommate the perils of a dirty kitchen.
1:30 AM: Work on my screenplay.