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René Caster '12 has so much work due this week and the next week-AND the next week-that she just absolutely hates her life right now, ugh, reported the sophomore, inexplicably ignoring the unavoidable truth that she, like all living things, will ultimately perish.
Between two major exams, a huge final paper for psych, and, like, two entire books for that Comp Lit class she should never have taken this semester, Caster's "gigantic" workload is nowhere near as unimaginably large as the great nothingness beyond death that everyone is doomed to face someday.
Caster sat down with the Noser to discuss the pointless trivialities of her life.
"Some of the things we're expected to know for [Organic Chemistry] are so specific it's impossible to learn it all," said the fleetingly existent cellular assemblage of chemicals, which are themselves composed of trillions upon trillions of unthinking particles, "and I really need to get an A in this class."
If Caster does not ace her pre-med courses, she will probably not get into med school and will never realize her dream of becoming a doctor, a meaningless fact in a world wherein life is nothing but a slow return to the dust from which it arose.
To make matters worse, Caster thinks she is getting sick.
"When I woke up this morning my throat itched, and I thought it would go away but it hasn't. Shit. Being sick right near finals is the worst," said the same person who will eventually succumb to the bleakest illness of all: the universal plague that is death.
Faced with the obvious decision at lunch between pizza and finally allowing her soul to be crushed under the unbearable weight of the uncaring world, Caster erroneously opted for the pizza.
Paul Feldbar '12 encouraged Caster to "stay positive" about her situation-foolish advice considering that he too is separated by nothing but cruel chance from his imminent passage into oblivion.
The Noser asked Caster whether there was any sense to be found in the world.
"Your eyes look weird. Are you okay?" replied Caster, asking what one can only assume was a rhetorical question.
The mortal Caster also claims to be "really stressed out" about deciding classes for next semester and can't decide whether she should take BioChem, which is mandatory for two of the concentrations she is considering, or a conflicting class which.none of this matters at all. She is going to die.
Caster said she is grateful for the continuing support of her friends and especially her "wonderful" parents, who, as the two most direct causes of Caster's pitifully brief existence, are actually the greatest criminals of all.
Providence resident Caroline Gardner approached Caster on Thayer Street and asked if she would like to learn how she can receive eternal salvation.
"Sorry, math homework," she replied. "Maybe another time."
As of press time, Caster was taking a study break and enjoying dinner with some good friends while all rational people were curled into the fetal position, weeping softly.
