May 3. 2000
I thought this would be appropriate...
The Third of May, by Francisco Goya.
Well, I had my art history final today, although Goya was not a part of it (that was last semester). And I think I did really well. I got all the slide identifications right, or at least I thought I did. I could have sworn that Van Gogh's The Starry Night was expressionism, not post-impressionism. Dammit. Other than that little gaff, I think I did okay. The essay topic was really strange and obtuse and vague, about Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, so I bullshitted a lot. I am so good at that. Honestly, I should have a doctorate in bullshitting on essays. The problem is, will they buy it or not. We shall see.
God, it was a gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous day out. Tyler Rec Services had a cookout, a band (really good, amazingly enough) and lots of outdoor activities out on the lawn, and it was crowded with people sunbathing and eating and playing volleyball in the hot sunshine. I grabbed up some of the free food and sat under a cool tree and watched everything and enjoyed the day. I wanted to stay out longer but alas...IH called me to study. Blah.
Everyone is packing up here. Stuff is being loaded into cars, people carrying clothes, art, pieces of computer out the front door. Well, so am I. Tonight I stripped everything off the walls and otherwise packed everything up. The only things left out are the computer, my cd player and fridge. Everything else is packed up in boxes sitting in the middle of the room, waiting to be loaded into the car. Tonight is my second last night here, and I feel no nostalgia whatsoever. Getmethefuckouttahere.