Vassar, cripples and some other pointless nonsense

Hi 

I’m tired. It’s 2:23 AM, and I want to sleep. Yet I’m sitting here, writing inane gibberish for absolutely no good reason. I do like blogs. I like how they never completely vanish. They just sit there, tucked away in some desolate, forgotten corner of cyberspace, waiting for its writer/admin/whoever to come back to it. I’m not back by the way. I’m just saying hi. If I post again this month, then maybe consider this a prolonged visit. Like malaria. Which by the way is no laughing matter. Especially with all these annoying mosquitoes all around me. Third world problems and whatnot.

You know what else is a third world problem? Laundry. No, I’m not going to say the stereotypical, douchy thing and say “the lack of I mean”. No, here in the third world, with our long standing practice of slavery in the form of domestic help dragged from villages to clean houses, children here don’t learn how to wash their own clothes. I have no idea how to do laundry. If I had to, I’d probably end up mixing the colours with the whites, rubbing it down with shampoo and leave it to dry in the bathroom. And then my clothes would be ruined. I already have self esteem issues, I don’t need to add to it by blaming myself for destroying my cheap, child labour produced garments.

So the reason I’m thinking of laundry so much nowadays is because I’m applying for college this month. If all goes well, I’ll leave my comfortable life here in the flood-infested heart of the Third World and head for the recession-plagued pastures of Umrika, the greatest and bestest country in the world, ever. But all never does go well. As each day passes, it seems more and more likely I won’t get in anywhere, I’ll end up staying back. And to be honest, at this moment in time, that’s not such a bad thing. Over the last year, I’ve come to love Dhaka more than ever. I think it’s because I’m somewhat gotten over my crippling social awkwardness. In fact, it doesn’t cripple me so much as it does cause an uncomfortable limp now. And there’s also the question that; would education here really be that terrible? And more importantly, do I care?

                                      

Dhaka’s evolving, and it’s happening in front of my eyes. There’s so many cool things people my age and slightly older than me are doing in Dhaka. Hell, I’m even trying to be a part of it. And so, would I really be too upset trading in Vassar for the local, Brac University? Mind you, the chance of getting into Vassar is insanely miniscule. And I do know this pretty girl at Brac.


Well, regardless of the some 300 words before this sentence, I will still apply. And if I don’t get in, I’ll probably try again next year. And I’ll still be very upset.


This was so pointless. I'm sorry if you actually sat through all of this. I'll go back to making fun of poor kids next post, whenever that may be. 

That Guy