|The End. Monica is signing off of the Journal years...
||[Aug. 14th, 2009|03:09 am]
It is the year 2009 and I am starting on a new journey. Well almost. Tomorrow I will be going sort of "back in time". In what society may call it: I am going to be living the "college life". I am moving into an apartment complex that usually richer, prettier, the younger of the starting college group of kids would move into. It is furnished with brand new sleek black appliances, furniture, Cable, HBO, Internet, pool, hot tub, cover grills, pool tables, 24/7 gym, tanning, work study rooms with computer and internet access and yes, even a small theatre. With a popcorn machine. Now what is the catch? Expensive! But considering other furnished apts and everything I would get, it pulled me in without me having an anxiety attack. And I hear the management WAS crappy with small glitches, but now it is under new management! But whatever, we will see. |
I don't feel 24 years old and I am "going in" undercover to write a scoop about the "college life". I still look and act like a younder... maybe it will work. Maybe I will be too tied up into my "senior" year to give a damn. But whatever the case, it is a change. One more year and it is all over….
But wait! What about Graduate school!? Yeah right. I knew it all these years; I am just not cut out for school. I miss working (It’s been 3 years!) Texas State… just sucks. My two years were enough, but like I said now I am with the “college life!”. This should get real interesting and/or stressful… Then what? I pulled some strings to get into an advance photography class instead of my advance graphic design courses. Maybe I will realize photography is the life of me. Or maybe my bitterness of the art world will continue to increase… Job-hunting. Oh what fun!
This is Monica J signing out: Texas State 2010!
I’ll leave you from a writing I found in a journal from 2007:
“The fantastic licorice that defines society only defined by the entanglement of red and white sound waves. The entertainment is fueled by the inspiration of twists. The dance of candy, the subtle movement of soldiers from the pathetic red confederacy. The modern establishment defined by sugar. A sugar so fake it reeks of syrup. A syrup festoon with the tides of perfect taste. The only rant I provide for this post is defined by the lack of sugar deposited in my veins. For the saltiness that consumes my favorite of taste buds. The persecution of salt and sweet is arbitrary, absurd, pointless, cancerous and banal. → The Candy men sing, but also they dance. I forget to breathe and I swallow. One thing to remember about this tasty dilemma is that the tongue never lies nor does it linger.”-Monica?
-Well some of it I can’t read too well because it was torn off because the journal was really pretty and I wanted to give it to a friend and it was the only thing in it. I don’t know what the hell I am talking about, but it seems like I am suffering from a lack of sleep and a lack of sugar.