:: The Blurst of Times ::

:: 7.08.2004 ::

So I don't really have time to write. I'm working twelve+ hours a day which is making me very tired, sunburned, and bitten by crawling things. And I haven't been sleeping well, or much, so I need to do that. But:

Tonight I am moving out of studio.

Tonight, I will likely never be in this Studio 106 again. I have spent five years in this building. I have spilt blood, sweat, and a plethora of other body-fluids in this building; lived and died by deadlines, both real and imaginary; made friends, lost friends, broke hearts, and had my heart broken; changed my life, wasted time, done a ton of work and a number of illict drugs. This has been my home for five years and on Saturday I walk away to another part of the world. I know that to some leaving college is a meager experience that requires little more than an occasional toast or catch-up phone call, but I think very few people understand what it meant to be in the Landscape Architecture class of 2004. Or at least what it meant to me.

Tonight I am pulling the plug on a good friend who I have known dearly for years now, and am thinking about how much I had left to do or say or see and that I always told myself I could do it on another day.

Tonight I will be constantly preoccupied with memories of everything that has gone on in the last five years and just relish the nostaglia for a while in a bittersweet concoction of a humid night, a tired body, and weepy songs.

Tonight I have a lump in my throat.

To quote a shadowy figure from my freshman year: "Yeah man, we're gonna burn this fucker to the ground..."
:: Freddy F. at 11:57 PM [+] ::

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