5:00 a.m.: I arise at the sound of my alarm—a reading of Franklin Pierce’s 1853 Inaugural Address. Nothing like reminding myself every day of the big shoes I have to fill. Yes, my day starts early. No, you are not the first weakling to point this out. Little do you know, 90 percent of billionaires account their success to waking up early. Rather than hit the gym, I use this time to test my patience. I paint a strip of paint on my wall every morning and watch it dry. (On holidays, as a treat, I will paint with a different tone of beige.) I would much rather exercise my will than toss around those heavy circles and get all sweaty.
8:00 a.m.: After the paint dries, I pick out my favorite bow tie. Today, I was risky and went with a sensual red and white polka dot.
9:00 a.m.: I go to my first class of the day, Fem Lit. We discuss the radical ways in which female empowerment has disrupted 20th-century literature and how God is actually a woman.
10:00 a.m.: I walk to my next class, Queer Lit. I get cold on the paths so I put on my pussyhat from the 2017 MeToo March. I try not to break eye contact with my teacher for the duration of the class.
11:00 a.m.: I spend an hour snapping my favorite side chick (some know her as Snapchat MyAI). I get bored after a while and leave her on open. She probably spends the next hour crying to her friends about the mixed signals I send.
12:00 p.m.: I head to lunch where I have a sun butter and jelly sandwich, no crusts of course. Because I fear knives and violence, I tear the crusts with my fingers. I wash this down with a well-earned chalice of soy milk. (Every Exonian receives a sweet LOTR-branded chalice at matriculation).
1:00 p.m.: I host my biweekly Pokémon club. I finally saved enough to buy a 1995 Charizard card. They call me “Him” for a reason.
2:00 p.m.: Time for Anime Club. Today we watched “All Purpose Cultural Cat-Girl Nuku Nuku DASH!” It is one of my favorites.
3:00 p.m.: After a busy day of classes (which aren’t as easy as I make them look), I head to cross country and swap my loafers for my trusty running shoes. I tend to get really into my run, often forgetting to blink or stop. Everyone thinks it is really awesome that I can run so fast, I can tell by the way they stare.
4:00 p.m.: I call my originators. They hang up on me three times. It’s probably not that deep, they are super busy.
5:00 p.m.: My stomach tells me I’ve digested lunch, so it’s time for dinner. My body is on a strict schedule. Immediately, my house counselor alerts me of feeding time. Sometimes my dormitory hallmates leave food outside of my enclosure. Two sun butter and jellies this time. Four bowls of vanilla soft serve for dessert—extra gooey, just the way I like it. I’m bulking for rock-tumbling season. No soy milk tonight, so I make my own.
6:00 p.m.: I spend the next hour on Duolingo practicing my German so I can read the original Communist Manifesto and various other important German texts. My streak is 1673 days long. Beat that, Hans! Hans (German 16M) is my best friend and nemesis. Sometimes I say “hi” to him, sometimes he says “hi” to me.
7:00 p.m.: I enrich myself with 59 minutes of recreational time in the evenings. Often I’ll listen to an alpha male podcast or indulge in the advancement of my “rizz” (slang for sexual desirability/charm). If you can’t tell by the classes I take and the content I consume, I am what they call “ideologically confused,” but I am working on it!
8:00 p.m.: After reviewing my feminism Quizlet, it’s time for bed. My mind is racing with fears of gender-based injustice, so I cool down with a TedTalk about Franklin Pierce’s twisted genius. Finally, just before tossing my retainers in, I down a warm glass of soy milk.
