He reached out to me and although the first inquiry almost lacked enough information to make a little suspicious, I felt slightly flattered. Interested in me? My future plans? I could contribute? Without much else going for me, I agreed to meet.

And I left the meeting with ambivalence rooted to the core. He opened his mouth and talked so intently and quickly that I couldn't so much as breathe for the first 15 minutes, it seemed. And what did this fast-talking aspiring-mini-mogul convey? A smooth, glib sales pitch, a business strategy, market research--enough to make him sound like he did his homework and knew what he was talking about. But did he know to whom he was talking? I felt like I could have better obliged as a venture capitalist, not as a broke student with nothing but ideas and some withering idealism.

I listened intently, and probably with a goofy crooked smile stretched across my face because I was curious to hear what he had to say; and I dithered between being impressed and feeling like I could have/should have seen this coming. I asked him clunkyly how he got his perspective on these issues and what informed him of all this?

Then the name-dropping started. This guy in a movie, this politician's son, the executive of this company. It quickly became clear: he had connections in high places and in all the right places to make this sort of a cutting edge project happen. Somehow he had the time, and the money, and the ambition, and gumption (though I've begun to wonder how much the latter is simply a reflection of the two former). How did all this get started, anyway? He started a year or so ago and now moved to a different city where all the action is, even though he's still actually taking classes here.

Some would call this a praiseworthy and undaunted drive. Yet, in the back of my mind I cringe because part of me wants to dissent and say, "No, that's just privilege." And in the face of the daily obligations that anchor me down, my sense of responsibility to fulfill them before I pursue grander schemes, and my own shriveling sense of motivation, perhaps I'm also just plain jealous.