Ten days from now, I'll be sitting in ArtS 215, Fundamentals of Graphic Design, bored to tears probably satisfied at the lunch I had gulped down between classes.
But yeah, as it stands, my summer is coming to an end. I don't think it's school starting up that I'm anxious about so much as it is the fact that I'm moving into a new place. Good-bye to dorm living, hello townhouse. I am nervous as hell and, of course, a-twitter about money and paying for everything and all that good stuff. Money likes to terrify me like that.
The good news for the townhouse is that I'll be with three of my very good friends, so it's not like we had to scrape for roommates and will have to deal with someone we don't know (or worse, someone we do know but don't like). I think the biggest qualm will be fighting over the kitchen table to do assignments on. Then again, with smooth walls, I can also just tape things up and work on them...
Whatever the case, I have a feeling the only place not covered in paint or chalk will be the techie's room, which is the room with the balcony so we'll probably be invading it anyway. Negate the previous line.
This semester makes for a marked change from both freshmen and sophomore years. From last year, the change is not taking six classes, but rather a meager five, and from both years, it's not having the adviser job that the art school hired me for. Budget cuts do that.
To make fall '11 my most leisurely semester yet, I took two summer classes. Now I have just one more gen ed to finish and then it's exclusively hacking away at my major and minor. Though I do think that means one more semester of six classes; however, without the office job, it is so much easier. I couldn't believe more much more time I had when I opted out of it the last two weeks of the spring semester. (Which I needed, desperately.)
I have so meticulously planned everything that I am hell-bent on getting done in four years. This isn't a dig at those taking longer, because too many of you know where I live. This is more a dig at the advisers who keep telling me to take it easy. No, shut up. I don't get any sort of financial aid (much to the surprise of practically everyone I meet), so I'm essentially burning through my parent's money. Yes. Fear me, I am the spoiled one. Youngest in the family, only one to go to university. And I am going to finish in two more years with both my useless major and minor.
Damn, where was this going? I kinda got off in a tangent there. Oh, I have to get ready for work. Okay. Cool story bro.
