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Feb. 3rd, 2005 @ 04:16 am the art of the modern-day hobo
The Budget Traveller's Guide to Sleeping in Airports

Now you need not fear Krakosia.
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Feb. 3rd, 2005 @ 06:03 pm (no subject)
Current Mood: homicidal
Current Music: Stone Sour - Bother

They didn't even look at my portfolio.

I put it in the box in October, the very day they began accepting. I was maybe the third or fourth person to turn one in. But they don't accept submissions from the box. They want us to drop them off in professor Angie Estes's office. Problem is, Estes doesn't have an office. She didn't even get back until early this month, meaning that no one is going to get into the class except the half-assed fuckheads who turned theirs in at the last minute.

Meaning that some delusional, talentless, Neil Gaiman-worshiping, fanfic-writing Potterhead non-major will get in instead of me. Well, I hope he or she is fucking happy, because that was the end of any hope I had of declaring a creative writing major. Dickface.

This is probably the second time I have ever been angry enough to kill someone. I don't just mean that metaphorically, I mean I feel like I could actually go out and fucking kill someone right now. What do I have to lose, really? The rest of my life would just be damage control anyway. I wonder if this is how Mr. Morris felt when physics decided he wasn't good enough for it (leading to an incredibly unfulfilling career as a high English teacher). Goodbye, dreams.

I am actually considering a transfer to a smaller school right now. What point would there be in staying here if I can't learn what I came here to learn?
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