Photo by mmigan / CC0
When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore. Or at least it was amore, because it’s definitely not anymore.
Sitting in her second semester of Organic Chemistry, Carla Edwards (C ’19) snapped out of her cheese-filled, carb-loaded daydream of semesters past and mournfully copied the compound structure on the chalkboard into her notebook. Midway through copying the diagram, Edwards put her pencil down and accepted defeat, acknowledging that she’ll just ask that one kid for his notes for the third time this week.
“Why did I think it was okay to pass freshman year? Seriously, what is wrong with me?” Edwards asked herself. “I could be learning about pasta while eating pasta and watching others eat pasta. But instead? I’m responsibly preparing myself for my rapidly approaching future in med school. This is actual bullshit."
“Maybe I should abandon my lifelong dream of becoming a pediatrician, drop out of Penn, and re-enroll as the class of 2022," she thought. "I could spend three hours a week balling out. By balling out, I mean learning unnecessary facts about Italian cuisine. It was unnecessary, but it gave me purpose. I even pronounce ‘parmesan’ like Giada De Laurentiis now. Does that not count for anything?”
At 3:20 PM, Edwards promptly left class and ate at Zavino until physically unable to continue. She took a nap and woke up feeling refreshed. “Yikes. Guess I was just hangry,” she thought.