How to create a happy form group

My tutor told me that Snapchat could showcase the best of the English Department, but my lips were sealed. I didn't tell him about my housemates and their antics in the pub last week. And how a friend of Harry ended up hosting an empty party. I almost forgot my brother's holiday in New Delhi, where the locals were glad to throw colored powders to his face. His girlfriend was delighted to capture that moment (and posted it in Snapchat).

I was weighing the pros and cons of social media when I heard a familiar tune once more. Harry, serious and morbid at times, turned out to be a fan of Janet Jackson's early hits. "Control" set a trend, he repeatedly told us. This piece of information didn't sink in, as I wondered if there were other fellows who fancy philosophical fiction and a music that could be described as a fusion of disco, funk, and synthesized percussion. I haven't told him that I was beginning to like "What Have You Done for Me Lately", humming it while thinking of an opening line on my assignment on "Mansfield Park".

My coursemates and I have an animated conversation last week, as we named our top novels featuring parks. Liz was surprised that none of us mentioned "Finnegan's Wake". It was a ballad, we pointed out. (Technically, such kind of prose won't fall under the novel category.) She didn't want to hear any of it, as she started on museyrooms. The argument ended after Fred mentioned Dodie Smith's "The Hundred and One Dalmatians". And then we have a moment of unison. Elizabeth Beresford's "The Wombles" put the spotlight on the proto-green activities, which was faithfully captured on the TV series (based on the book). If Lego could produce a miniature version of these amusing characters.

Does my brain has untapped powers?

I read an extraordinary case of Jason Padgett, who survived a vicious attack by two muggers. It could have turned him into a vegetable, but the traumatic experience helped the furniture salesman developed mathematical abilities. This was a rare case of savant syndrome, but it would suggest something else. There would be a hidden genius in everyone.

If this was the case, then the coursework would have been a walk in a park. I wouldn't have to go through the process of getting an unconditional offer from my admissions tutor. I might have published my first novel at a young age of nineteen. Christopher Paolini was nineteen years of age when "Eragon" came out. The critics weren't kind to his debut novel, but there were cases when the end product would be more important than the quality. Then again, my snotty side would contradict such case. I haven't figured out about authorship, but I would get there.

I was thinking about the conversation once more. We shared our dislikes. There was a trepidation, but it turned out to be a riot. Harry couldn't imagine holding a tarantula while Liz detested a parachute jump. Nick wouldn't go near a shark-infested water while Toni hasn't overcome her fear of heights. It was my turn. I don't like walking in a graveyard at night. No one said a word. Harry seemed shocked, and I would understand him. I would love reading scary stories at night, and he saw a pile of paperbacks under my bed. Edgar Allan Poe, Susan Hill, and Stephen King were the authors of those books.