Ok so I did end up getting into Throne of Glass

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Ok so I did end up getting into Throne of Glass
I am going to survive this last bit of work, trudge home, pull apart my dark curtains and fill my house with light, crack open a beer and start doing some spring cleaning. I need to make a new beginning.
3 exams next week. I'm so tired because I've been trying so hard whilst studying. It's essential I do well in these exams because I have a keen presentiment; I want to go to a specific uni and further my education. This uni seems perfect for me. I've kind of put all my eggs into one basket but I'm trying so hard to get these grades. I'll be devastated if not.
Our Little Monster.
Right when you are furthest away. Right when you realize you have stranded yourself on an island facing away from everything you did to become what you are. Right when your headlights are the last ones illuminating the pavement ahead, behind, there's Chuck. Good ol' Chuck, like a beacon in the fog.
It was three twenty one in the morning, Wednesday morning, and there were three people awake within eye-shot of my motorized scrap yard: Myself, the gas station attendant in the florescent castle to my left (past the most useless red light one can imagine), and Chuck- the friendly moat creature. He slithered around the pumps in his polished white leather bowling shoes, blue jeans, and white oxford on top. Most moat creatures feed upon foolish knights but not this one, he sticks to the plethora of garbage pails placed around to reduce the amount of cigarette butts on the ground. Raging success. Chuck lived in his car you see, not a bad car though, and he owns one outfit. To his credit, those shoes? Always polished. The oxford? Pressed to match.
I met Chuck during my brief stay at a local diner serving folks Sunday brunch, often chewing it too. He would meander in around seven in the evening on any given day and have a cup of black coffee "no spoon," and stay until close. If you need nickels, pour a fresh mug, he'll toss you a few. It's what he's got. Tough to get much done around him though, once I heard a poor young girl on her second shift on the floor make the mistake of asking Chuck why he had a new package of socks on the counter in front of him. This is not something that has every happened before, never has there been a package of new socks on the counter, but we all knew better than to ask Chuckles why. Do not get me wrong, we all loved the guy, he was our friendly moat creature, but you never ask questions. She ended up knowing more about the sock and underwear market than she ever signed up for. As an aside, she did not make it one week, a shame too. She was easy on the eyes.
If we lived in a culture of speaking freely, I would suggest a legal name change to 'Chuckles.' The man sounded like piglet, all dressed in white. Coworkers would linger out of sight to hear the words giggle on down from his mouth onto the sap who decided the diner bar counter would be a good place to post up for a meal. With this said, nothing is better than pulling into a florescent castle beyond the stubborn traffic light in the dark of the morning and being greeted by a friendly moat creature, dressed in white, doing his best piglet impression. Whether it is the nostalgia or the sheer uniqueness of this man that does it I'm not sure, but it is something sobering and grounding in the most existential of moments. Without meaning to suggest regularity or accuracy, Chuckles would appear from the murky waters every six or eight months during my drives. Each encounter would bring about a 'Chuck, well how the hell are ya?' followed by an elongated jitter of the throat 'long time no see!' From there each went on going on respectively. The man in the tattered jacked driving a mobile metal-shop class, and the elderly gentlemen dressed to kill in the not-a-bad-car-though.
it’s amazing how much free time you have and the amount of things that get done when you don’t work, doesn’t matter if its a full 8 hours or just 4. it feels nice to accomplish important things and re-generate during an already-busy school week.
work eats up seriously almost all my time outside school and i’m so thankful for every day off i get.