After graduating from college, I decided to pursue a Masters degree. I applied to eleven schools, and was accepted to one. The school that accepted me was celebrated throughout the world for being all that and a bag of chips, so, full of wide-eyed excitement, I packed up my bags and left. I’d lived in three different countries prior to moving there, so I foolishly thought I’d settle in just fine.
Boy, was I wrong. I liked my classes, but I felt completely isolated. My classmates were friendly, but distant. Even the weather was against me. There were times when I didn’t see the sun for weeks. It was like being handed something as awesome as a panda cupcake, and then finding out the panda was an asshole.
Then I met the man who is now Mr. Cow.
His first line was: “I heard you’re from Singapore!” (I’m not technically from Singapore, but it’s one of the places I’ve lived in for a major chunk of my life, and I’ve always seen it as my second home.)
Such joy! I could hardly contain my excitement at meeting a fellow Singaporean.
And that was how I met Mr. Cow.