with toy knives - Part 1
Avendell College is a very polarizing place to go to school for most people, I’m sure. People who want to actually do work must hate the place, and people who just like being in a place where weird shit happens must wake up every morning actually excited to be here. I don’t fit into either, and I kind of hate it too. Almost every morning is a kind of Twilight Zone where every waking moment offers endless opportunities for limitless flavours of crazy. Often the only redemption is that you may be lucky enough to actually graduate with a worthwhile degree, find love, or at least be able to find somewhere decent to stay while you’re a student.
One out of three wasn’t bad for me - I was renting a two-bedroom on Hammett Street right next to campus for twenty credits, money I was already making doing online freelance odd jobs, mostly writing, mostly writing other people’s essays, or else news stories for nearby culture mags; I was up so much cash without sacrificing my free time that often I wondered why I was still in school to begin with. To be fair, my liberal arts degree was part of the reason I was such a good writer. To be unfair, that was only because their library was bigger than my own.
As for the first two fortunes, I could probably actually make it out of school with a degree in hand; I was going to classes, handing in top-notch essays, or close enough, but mostly because I was trying to get the second fortune too - I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Tessa Jacobs if I took them out of my head and put them in my pocket. If it weren’t for my pathetic crush, I’d have flunked out two semesters ago.
I guess it could be said that if it weren’t for my pathetic crush (and some really bad friends besides), I wouldn’t have gotten in some of the trouble I would soon get into, either.