Thursday, April 06, 2006

A single....

Next year. 2nd St. Room 113. All to myself. How fantastic is that for a reclusive writer? All thanks to Ashley Adamson, of course. So next year, come and stop by. All that poster space to myself. Muahahahaha.

Room is picked, now classes. Then just 2 papers. 1 screenplay. And I'm done for the semester. Whoa. Where the heck did the time go? Didn't my plane just land yesterday? I should have known the nice, warm weather was a bad sign. It means everything here is coming to an end. Leading to my last summer as an irresponsible college student. 'Cause I'm always irresponsible of course. This time next year, I could be getting ready for grad school. Getting ready for a job. Getting ready to be homeless because you can't get a job with a BA in Cinema Studies.

This is a very forward looking post, but I'm feeling futuristically reminiscent. Gotta make the most out of senior year, because it'll be gone faster than this. And then I'm screwed. Or not. I could always sell a screenplay.

Goals for next year: apply for grad school, look for a job, get an agent.

You wouldn't think it would be that hard, right? What I need is an internship. But I'll look at that this summer.

Right now I have 2 papers and 1 screenplay to worry about. Then I can focus on next year.

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