Earning to Lie
No one promised me that the neighbors wouldn't fuck up my toilet. But they ought to of. Or something more grammatically palatable.
I'm listening to the soundtrack of Elizabethtown which I think'll be a lovely movie provided I ever get to see it and it's putting me in a great mood to write, but there's no time. I have to fucking rush, rush, rush. It's WAY lame. I have to go to the library to print these extensive pdf files that we only look at once or maybe twice. Sigh.
So I got to the place where you go when you find out if you're graduating. And I'm early, yeah, but the lady says I'm late...and for a second I think, what do I say, I'm graduating a semester early and I didn't plan for this and now you're gonna make me stay for another semester...but just as quickly as these frantic thoughts ran through my mind, she said, but it's alright. Like some abused soul, she said she would figure out a way to do it. And maybe 5 keystrokes and two minutes later, it was done. I had my contract. It's all so frigging official I can't stand it.
Some kid on a skateboard asked me if I was graduating. And I said, with all the screech and high-pitch of a balloon letting out a gasp of helium, Yeah! He said, Awesome, congratulations. And he skateboarded off. It was a nice moment, if you were there. It made me happy, you know.
Then, I had to bring it back to the English Office and bring my portfolio and be sure all my t's were dotted and eyes were crossed. But I think, maybe, it won't get too fucked up now.
Damn. More to say. Lots more. And you're owed a lot. I gotta go. I'll be back later. I swear.
