The 375 ml glass bottle of 151 squats illegally on my desk like an immigrant, a lonely high proof bottle in this land of cheap lousy low-class beers. The night before it was a similar bottle of Black label, only to be brought over to Bahrat's place to be mercilessly devoured. But even with cognac sheesha, 7 Marlboro Lights and 3 shots of some Smirnoff-orange concoction, it wasn't so much of a craving; more like it was liberation after 6 weeks of containment.
After all, 98.5% for Psychology and 100% for Calculus after 3 years is quite a feat just a month into college. Next stop: Engineering Exam. We'll see how long this can last.
I'm considering a minor in Physics or Astrophysics, because I realised I can't do without it in my life. My dad didn't just give me a penchant for solving TYS problems: he gave me a passion for the intriguing subject. Even after three years, when calculus and organic chemistry has slowly faded into a distant memory, Physics was still fresh in my mind. And it wasn't till last week when I helped a fellow engineer wannabe solve all his Physics questions. Or when I was trying to apply integration into kinematics and thermodynamics.
Major, but fruitful, headaches.
In lighter news, I'm thinking of joining the Improv Club. The likes of Dara O'Briain, Ed Byrne, Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie, Frankie Boyle and Hugh Dennis have inspired me to see what really goes on behind the scenes of improvisation comedies. And of course, to get to know more sharp-witted chicks. Kinky.
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