1. IT Department remains as stoned and incompetent as they were 20 years ago. This includes practicing their flute in front of you as you stand there impatiently trying to print, yelling at them to FIX THE DAMN THING, but because you are talking too fast they get confused. You desire hitting flautist/ IT staffer over the head with his flute, but are wary of a lawsuit. Asian staffers are forced to intervene and display legit excitement for "trouble shooting."
2. You've stolen toilet paper from campus for your apartment. It’s the least the school can do for the tens of thousands you are spending, and those coveted Subway napkins, you have hidden from your roommates in your pillow case, just aren't cutting it. Stealing this toilet paper will provide your only second or two of joy, once that psychotic bitch Sallie Mae tracks you down, at your girlfriend’s apartment, ten years from now.
3. You are so highly caffeinated that your limbs shake uncontrollably. You accidentally wave/smile at people you don't mean to. Some of these people come up to you and say "Hey, I noticed you were looking at me from over there." They introduce themselves. They extend a hand. You hesitantly shake, not wanting to be rude. You sanitize hands immediately. You walk right into a girl while daydreaming and she says nothing to you. You are nothing to her. Not even a charming relic like an eight track tape. You are a ghost. There is no "Quad" at NYU so you are forced to run laps around the fountain in Washington Square Park to offset the heart palpitations caused by the ten ice coffees. Former staffers of the New York Times, now Hobos, chase you.
4. Your paper is going to be late.
5. You are jealous of the smart, pretty girl who is moving to Jakarta to be with her boyfriend. Not only does he have a big dick, but he reads.
6. You lay in bed for an hour or two every morning just staring at the ceiling THINKING and DREAMING. Not even masturbating.
7. You dance alone, in your bra and underwear, to Stardust’s “The Music Sounds Better With You” atop a worn futon posing as a sofa, intermittently pointing and winking at yourself in a full length mirror, with all of the windows wide open, hoping someone will see you, and join you, but they don't. Racing out the door to class, one of the two octogenarians reeking of olive oil and Aqua Velva, who speak an Italian dialect you can’t comprehend, and who share the Soho tenement you are living in for the next two weeks, catch you in the hallway, long enough, to pat your ass with a wooden cane and smile.
8. You take a shower at noon, eat breakfast at 1.
9. You have favorite places on campus where you are not afraid to use the restroom.
10. What you are studying will have absolutely zero impact on what kind of money you will make or your future career. You realize the point of college is to learn how to kill time – slowly and pleasurably.
A Pool Hustler's Daughter grows up in subterranean America. She dreams big, hustles daily and loves her Daddy. With empathy, fascination and grace she navigates and inhabits every tier of society; sees beauty and hope and magic in all things; respects and lives by the "mitzvah."
A Pool Hustler's Daughter calculates the trifecta payout at the racetrack, hides money on three parts of her body, has an arsenal of "Uncles," and keeps a baseball bat by the front door. She values friendship, loyalty and experiences over "things." Like her father, she seeks to learn "The secrets of the universe" and believes "Life ain't on the square." She applauds the self-made and those who learn to "overcome" their circumstances. Her door is always open for a sofa to sleep on, a hot meal, or an eager listener for a life story.