It was an educational trip, as I realized exactly how different everyone's college experience is compared to mine. Now, I understand the origins of the widespread rumor that college is the best years of my life. Small schools are a mix between an addictive drug and elegant fantasy land. The recipe is very simple. You give a college lots of money to create an educationally devoid high school, just without parents and without rules concerning substance abuse. No shit college is fun for these people. They're rich and white and not challenged. What's not to love?Quoted from my pal Jon, with whom I am so happy to still be speaking after high school. He and I go to different public universities, and share a lot of the same cynicism regarding private institutions. I am using large words because I just crawled out of class. It was good, class was, it was the writing class I was worried about. The teacher isn't a nut after all, just a regular funny writer-type. He is always kind of on-edge, like he has many important facts to impart before class is over. Many of the important facts are about his dog or Star Wars, but he's fun to listen to.
I found out last weekend that my mother reads this journal. Apparently I left it on her computer at work, or something. My only embarrassment is that she read all the complaining I did about money and trying to get out of school on time for the sake of my parents. Nothing too violently shocking about my life, I guess. She made a lot of noise about the diary being in a public medium and therefore not restricted to her, which is true, and then told me that she would only read it when I had a new story up. Regardless, I probably won't be mentioning experiments in prostitution, drug trafficking, global terrorism or my credit card bills in the future.
