Sitting near the dish line

Over the course of the year, I've observed a trend in my dining hall ways: I sit closer and closer each day to the conveyer that takes away our dirty dishes. It seems more convenient when picking a seat for a meal to keep an eye on your way out, so you can "beat the line" and get out of Annenberg in Harvard time for class or a nap or whatever before everyone else starts to queue up ahead of you.

Well, now my freshman year is ending and I kind of want to sit as far away from that exit point as possible. Because when I sit near the dish line it means I'm in too much of a hurry to talk to the people around me or look up at our stained glass wonderland or taste my Veritaffle. And now I wish I'd had more of those initially awkward Annenberg conversations where I eventually find out that the person across from me also took a gap year or is a Classics major or loves the Opportunes, instead of staring into my phone or pretending I was doing work during my meal.

I wasn't super social during Opening Days. I knew I was bound to find a close friends circle, and I did. And they're incredible. And I can't live without them. But also, it might be a bit late, but I want to introduce myself to you. I'm Ratna, the girl with the big glasses (yes, they're prescription) and the sweatshirt with my name misspelled on the back.

And I want to meet you. Because this isn't another week before the weekend, or school year before the summer, or high school before college, or something else we should want to be over. This is our undergrad experience, the best four years of our life, and it's one-fourth over. And I don't want to be saying "this week will be easier once Wednesday is over" because I don't want Wednesday to be over. I want to sit down, at a completely random table. And talk.