The Eighth Page Uncategorized

Phillipian Satire: A Day in the Life of a Senior

I begin the day by waking up at 8:27 a.m. for my 8:30 a.m. poetry elective class. At 8:30 a.m. sharp, I gulp some Advil and go back to sleep. No one tells you drinking on a Tuesday night is such a commitment! Don’t worry about me getting marked absent because in poetry, a lot can be said in silence. Plus, my teacher’s compromised immune system is probably safer when I am farther away.

When I get up, I diligently check my email. I search, and I admire my acceptance letter…such beautifully composed words, poetry is truly everywhere. Then I DoorDash an Egg & Sausage McMuffin because now that I’m in, I don’t care at all about numbers, including my accumulating credit card bills and cholesterol levels.

After that, I’ll head to my extremely intense art elective, cartoon drawing. I normally draw a few phallic shapes and call it a day. My teacher praises me for how I experiment with a minimalist avant-garde personification of masculine suppression. I feel slightly bad for all the sweats (Uppers) in my class who scribble those pencils to stubs to get a 6 in a supposed easy elective…who is gonna tell them legacy matters more than a 5.8?

For lunch, I’ll take an Uber downtown–asking for car permission is the last thing on my mind–and charge a full course meal at La Fina to my Mom’s credit card. Now that I’m in college, she can start paying for all the tiger parenting trauma that I’ve endured. I’m not really a fan of walking, so I will Uber back to my last class of the day. Somehow my Uber will get lost and I’ll end up back at my dorm! Then a wave of amnesia will hit me, a common Senior spring occurrence, and the next thing I know, I’m back in bed!

I also would usually go to my extraneous sport of dog walking, but last I checked, a faculty’s senile shelter dog can walk without my assistance. Now that I’m in, I don’t lift a finger to do any more volunteer work, even if it’s for a dog.