No, I don't want to:

1. be a doctor

2. get my masters for some medical-related field since I'm not going to be a doctor (b/c obviously I must have just done shit on my MCATS or something)

3. go to law school

4. be an ibanker

5. or "at least, get married to a doctor"

6. Stop selling crack on the side

What I really want to do is buy a yacht, declare it as an independent country, sail around the world with California or Seattle as my initial launch and make up my own language which will be an amalgam of Spanish, Punjabi, Bambara and the words I made up with my sisters when I was 5. Like, fraishus roshis - definition: I am awesome-er than you.

Postgrad Hobbies

Now that I've graduated from college, it's time for me to pursue those hipsteresque hobbies that a soul-sucking university curriculum prevented me from engaging in. Like, knitting! Or rediscovering my long-lost love for art through MS Paint. This work is a series of portraits, inspired by Andy Warhol. The entire piece itself is entitled "Ashu, Stop Fucking Making Shit with MS Paint."

Ashu, Stop Fucking Making Shit with MS Paint

Each portrait is named respectively: "Ashu", "Ashu with Rajasthani mustache", "Ashu on crack", and my personal favorite, "Ashu on crack with Rajasthani mustache."

shyyyt

So after forcing all my friends to read my blog, people actually like it and want me to write more. But shit, I don't perform well under pressure and this is making me kinda sorta anxious, despite avoiding the caffeine that gives me panic attacks (the doctor told me to stay away, but he didn't say I couldn't have Sugaaaaa!) , and I'm being stifled by my own (supposed, perceived, possibly non-existent) greatness. And now I have to figure out something to write about and seriously, guys, my life is not that interesting. I just do stupid shit like
1) run into a glass wall
2) set microwave fires
3) pick up stalkers
4) buy organic
So What the eff do I write about? Why would I want to revel in my idiocy, enough people do it for me already anyway. I could record the random ramblings in my head like: who sings all those songs on those fancy modern (lead-encrusted) childrens' toys that go "ABC, C is for Cow, D is for Dick" and do you think that singer wanted to be like, you know, the next Madonna, and is like "fuck, now I'm fucking singing these stupid tard baby songs in a stupid fake momma voice and I can't fucking fund that cocaine addiction no more, better switch lower quality crack for awhile fuuuuuuuuckkk i'll just drink the alcohol out of my perfume right now (but she probably can't afford perfume!)" or about how one of the admins at work is trying to set me up with a guy and I'm doing it for shits and giggles because that is how uninteresting my life is now, but she wants me to change my facebook picture since I look like a rabid beast to a more flattering picture, in case he like, you know STALKS me? Yeah. I guess I could write about that.