Even Preity Zinta can’t get me out of this mess: dt/dt = exp(-t)
The above equation looks meaningless whether you have done calculus or not, but it’s true. What it means is that as the semester passes, time starts moving slower and slower. And thirty days before the semester ends, the rate of flow of time crosses a significant limit. Time slows down so much that you can feel it wash over you like viscous German chocolate.
In direct contrast, the first two months of of the semester move like, well, non-viscous German chocolate down Manasvini’s alimentary canal. Whether I stay at college or return home for weekends (or, in the case of my more degenerate days, the entire week), time passes by in a flash.
It’s got me depressed. I spend the last thirty days of the semester studying (yes, I do study- ignore the vile propaganda that has been spread about me) and anticipating my vacation. While time dilation has obvious advantages in that it triples the length of an hour, allowing me to finish my syllabus in one third of the time, it also triples the length of time I have to wait before I can start spending pleasant and instructive mornings (and afternoons, and evenings, and nights- but especially nights) with my friends. That is agony.
But, there are certain advantages that could be drawn out of this. Time travel springs to mind.
Rohan Deuskar, the columnist at www.freshlimesoda.com once suggested that ladies rooms, by the simple virtue of being ladies rooms are time vortex engines where time dilates in a particular geographical area. A semester also seems to be a time vortex engine, where time dilates over time.
If you could combine a semester and a ladies room after figuring out the physics behind the whole thing, you could have a time machine. It wouldn’t be as dangerous as all that mucking about with Improbability Factors, and it would possibly be cheaper than a Bistromathic drive.