░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░░ (masstreble) wrote,

From the UAF library, to be extra proper:

Just registered for classes for the final time. That's it. Barring disaster, in half a year I'm going to graduate, and then I'll have graduated, and I'll be a college graduate.

Looking over the transcripts is sombering. Failures, successes, places and people all blur into a line or two of text. Clustered together under shaded bars, with GPA, letter grades, numbers, they become entire worlds I've lost/gained. A. B. C. (W). F? 13, 15, look, a 16 credit semester there. They smell like soap, muted fustration, paper, dust, something like alcohol and bad food. And they're mine all mine.

125 credits in a month. Taking nine more. The last three so I'm still a full-time student. That means I can work on my own stuff, and maybe pry in a job. It took about seven years, but I'm going to be living independantly, post-college, a college graduate that graduated from college. Provided I don't mess up, of course.

  • The start of an adventure.

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  • (no subject)

    Now that it's totally confirmed: THERE. Holy mother of crap, I've a job again. FINALLY. Just in time, too. Shittiest year of my life, man.

  • In which Mass Treble inexplicably picks up a guitar and sings

    Bald-haired bossman You know him from work You'd think he was a virgin But he's got four kids Don't mean to imply And don't want no trouble But I'm…

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