I am.My cover may be worn. My pages may be torn, and some pages may be ripped out. But the one thing that remains is the story. There are happy parts, the are sad parts, there are angry parts, and some parts you might not even want to read. There is beginning, and a middle, but so far, there is no end. Pages are being written and some pages are fading away. I'm used up and torn apart, I may be a tough read, but please don't put me down. A horror story? A romance novel? Adventure? Who knows. A new chapter is being written as we speak. Something brand new, something climactic, something exciting. Time as we know it is a turning point. Characters ranging from monsters to super heroes, the main character as worn and beat as the book itself.
Oh the places she will go.
A Day in the Life of an Art MajorThe morning of the trip to the High Museum, my sleep was abruptly stopped due to my rude and overly excited roommate, Shaunna. The transition between my dreams of who knows what and her face staring straight at mine, screaming at me to get up, was the first clue that the morning would be an interesting one. We were to be at Cobb hall at 10 am. Of course, I had been trusted awake at approximately 9:45. In a daze, I quite literally fell off of my highly lofted bed onto the floor. With a groan from me, and a seizure of laughter from my roommate, I reluctantly got myself up and put on pants. I stumbled over to the bathroom and tried to do something to my unruly hair. Apparently, my pillow thinks its a hair stylist. There was nothing I could really do to it that didn't require time and effort, so I just threw my tangled mane up into braids. The clock read 9:50 now. Shaunna screamed at me to hurry up, so I grabbed my sketchbook and slipped on some shoes and lugged myself out the door, after