dihomiccus

My world, my, world, the exams have ended. An extensive quantity of what I wrote was nonsense, pure and utter, with only slight factuality in actuality. I feel as though my performance was up to par with the rest of the class, even if my bullshit approach seems at this point obsolete. But the exams have ended, and therein lies the important part. Now I have the luxury of relaxation, Rear Window with my divine Grace Kelly (and Jimmy, of course, because of course I love him too), more food than I have the capacity to handle, tidal waves in the brain and Japanese to study. I have mailed in the summer forms and I am apparently art school-bound. Never in my life have I taken an actual class; the flake that is Graphic Design is not filed under what my ideal considers "actual," though the teacher was nice, considering that I practically taught the cartooning unit myself. What is the Earth around me? From here, where am I to go? How will this summer compare to the last? Why am I disparaging when two months still remain, and how will a thing like me survive?

I'm not entirely sure as to the use of this account, so speils and speilings may reside here alone for the time being, for the time in which school still is underway and my Japanese is bad and there are no new episodes of Sherlock and life is not quite the highway that perhaps Tom Cochran imagined it to be.

As for me, and as for immediately, the family is off to watch sports, and I am to sit alone and pretend I didn't just rewatch The Ring, which I may or may not cry thinking about.