I was right though, that I could fit all of my clothing and then some in just the largest suitcase, but I purposefully packed wrongly so that I used the next smaller cases because I’m probably going to be getting lots of books and things. It was still at least a week till move-in started, but I was just wanting to ensure that everything fit and all.
Weirdly…good luck seemed to rain in when the neighborhood gained the knowledge that I was leaving for school, just…out of the fucking woodwork people just randomly started dropping off little things for me or even Dad, people brought us food, one of my old teachers got me a new laptop, nothing too fancy, but…not falling apart like my old one, but I would have still been fine with my old one. Someone must have informed them that the school was in mid-ground California because a gift arrived one day from an elder old neighbor of ours who got me a really nice dark navy blue rain-proof long peacoat, someone else got me a new pair of boots…it was just…a lot and quite confusing as well. I had looked it up, driving San Fran was about five hours south driving, there were trains I could grab, but they were upwards of eight or so hours.
Online, the pictures of the school didn’t really seem like it was around San Francisco, it seemed more like in our neck of the woods if not even more northern, it was just in this super thick forestry, everything about how the school was built, the trees in the background and around the grounds in the pictures just did not seem to be in that area nor that region: it was all far too northern focused plants and there were pictures of the school being dusted with snow, frost and ice including pictures of students with big snowmen built, big icicles wrapped in lights and various mixed winter décor that was of every single winter holiday possible…San Francisco doesn’t get snow…I think. All of the pictures were extremely good quality too, obviously professional, but mixed in where dozens upon dozens of various candid photos of students. There were photos of all the various facilities at the school, pictures of the faculty members among all sorts of photos. There were pictures of dozens upon dozens of degrees of all sorts ranging from two-year degrees to full on doctorates in all sorts of fields that I saw ranged from anything like astrophysics to medicine to zoography…just every possible degree someone could want to get was offered at the school and then some. Though I did notice something…all of these degrees were done…in spans of five years, this school was somehow able to have people graduating with doctorates in half the time it would take at a regular college.
I still have no idea what kind of degree I’m going for because of the fact that I never thought that I was going to be able to go to college, there was just never thought put into it. When I was younger, I had wanted to be an artist, but…I’m far out of practice. I loved being able to take a blank piece of paper and turn it into a masterpiece; I was pretty good, but I have no idea how good I am currently because of how out of practice I am. I always used pencils or charcoals for my sketches, I didn’t really like the smell of a lot of paints; sensitive sense of smell and pastels are really messy, never really been handy enough for sculpting or the technical skills for something like glass or metal or anything like that. I saw how working in the high stake world of finances and business just…destroyed my mother; seeing her stay up all night to work on emails or go through overseas calls, the stacks upon stacks of paperwork she was constantly having to shift and go through among all of the various troubles so…I just have never wanted to be involved in offices…and my father only has a high school diploma and was a house-husband for the majority of my life, so he didn’t have a career that scared me like that when I was young, but…nowadays, does make me hate the idea of working on trains or around them. The sound of train whistles makes my stomach turn.
I sighed softly as I bunched up my sweater from how just cold the apartment was, we never have the heater on, let alone actually having one. I bought myself a small little space heater for my room and it was working overtime, but it was still a bit cold in here. I’ve woken up to frost collected on the inside of my window, the pipes frozen and things of that sort…just no way that anyone could possibly find the apartment comfortable especially at night. I could hear that Dad wasn’t home yet despite the fact it was past midnight, so I soon found myself curled up in bed, bundled up under my moth eaten comforter and…whatever other blanket I had, dressed in my usual pajamas plus a hoodie and thick socks on with the space heater moved over to beside my bed just to be comfortable.
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