Journal Entry #1 6:43 AM
It was a not-so-crisp morning air at 5:30 am. The swampy bowels of a Georgia night had made its mark on our house – fresh dew staining every aspect of the outer hull of our home.
As is the new routine, I must venture out into the wilds with dog-in-tow for her morning evacuation in the event that a serpentine hell-beast makes its play against my dusty white canine companion. The Georgia wilderness’ ambivalence is all too tiresome. Thankfully, as always, there were no scaled monstrosities this morning.
I lumbered into work with a feeling of glee mixed apprehension as I knew this was the last day I would see this locale, seeing these people on the daily. While semi-somber, I was still happy to never have to enter this cat-urinated-on nigh sick house.
Journal Entry #2 8:24 AM
Ah, you pesky computer – you’ve confounded me once again! I never thought it possible the dreaded “Update Needed within one hour” would rear its ugly head on this, my last day of work. But the impossible becomes the highly probable in the most Murphy’s of laws.
It shan’t hold control over me, however! I seize this opportunity for an always-needed walk around the campus. A nice last look at the morning splendor that is my school’s grounds. Ah to breathe in the fresh cooling moisture of a morning Georgian zephyr.
As I walk the compound, I remark on the things I may never see again and wonder to myself how much I may miss them. In the moment it’s easy to say “no” but who knows what winds will change in the fullness of time.
Journal Entry #3 9:30 AM
Oh to make my last visit to the IT Department, separated by an ocean of concrete and grass. The final bastion in an otherwise hectic world were the men of Information Technology. How I shall reminisce of you in the future.
Each visit was a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of the house – a new attempt at speaking in the ones and zeros of a technology-minded individual. This reprieve may no longer be needed – my future ventures shall be a new mix of a mostly computer-centric beings.
On the way I heard my last cries of glee from the local bloodhound, wiling his time away with an unsteady pattern of howls and barks. I shall miss him or her quite a bit, despite my coworkers animosity toward this vigilant cacophony maker.
An attempt was made to lower the flag in honor of my impending departure, alas it was communicated to me that some random dude leaving was not the tragedy to befall the country that would vindicate such action. What America hath I been born into?
Journal Entry #4 11:13 AM
A new dawn rises come this 11:13 am and Chic Fil A has been ordered in my honor. We dine as kings on THIS afternoon.
There is not much new information to spin a tale for on this occasion – merely the silent click-clacking of old processes never before crafted due in large part to a lack of time permitted finally being produced. Each new word typed brings with it a memory of the past, be it argument or joke or any other form of communication in this edifice of knowledge recruitment.
Should I regale in the spun silk of time and divulge myself in the nostalgic plunder I find myself in or push forward – breaking the memories that bind in order to achieve marks for benefiting my soon to be a memory-only compatriots?
My typing here should serve to prove that sentimentally tends to trump all when asking such questions. Clearly I have chosen the wistful tickle of recollection in lieu of the greater benefit of the whole. It may be selfish, but to human is to err.
Journal Entry #5 12:34 PM
The Chick Fil A has come and gone and my belly is as filled with with delicious processed nuggets as my mind is filled with two years worth of retrospection.
The polynesian sauce of wonder hath born with it a glut of various days past reminiscence in which food was ordered for us all to partake in, often heavily southern styled in genre. Those days became more and more seldom in the proceeding days; something that ought to be sought out once again for a boulster in camaraderie for the future.
But that is not for me to say, dear reader, for I am become not unlike the dinosaurs of old: an extinction in presence shall be applied come 4pm forward in this domicile of cognitive-increasing enlistment. I shall ever more wish them the best of fortune in their future endeavors sans-me.
I gear up for the inevitable lunch walk I shall embark upon for the last time in this place. Shall the memories flood me once again? Methinks so.
Journal Entry #6 1:20 PM
A hard days sweat comes not from hours of working but the in-betweens, for the Georgian summer is upon us and the floodgates are released upon my break outside.
That was the last of my lunch walks in the Rural south’s college campus to which I spent my recent years. Sweat freely flows down the nape of my back and is gently cooled by artificial draft. The fan comes with me.
The reminiscing is done, and now comes the impatient and watchful eye of the clock. What once was a solemn look back and admiring of what once was is replaced with an eagerness to vacate this mutual work habitation for greener pastures.
I have done my time, good sirs and madams, and now mean to extricate myself from the shackles of an impending lifted weight. If only this fan were a time fan.
Journal Entry #7 3:37 PM
The hot summer air coupled with its need for being consistently moist harkens a thunderous exit for me. What would another day be if not for nearly being caught in the rain in the middle of my final 15 minute walk on the quad?
My ending to this day did not go out with a whimper, but with a literal loud banging, the sky filled with an electric heat as waves of rain and sound mired the entire city of Waleska.
I have a mere thirty minutes before I part from this place for good, and I imagine the stretch home will be fraught with storms. Who knows… maybe there’ll even be a tornado. How fitting that my final time would be a onslaught of mother nature’s dominance over mankind.
Journal Entry #8 3:50 PM
And like that…
He’s gone…
I’ve made a lot of memories at this place, but now I make new memories at another, and the corridors of time deepen as I journey through them – sometimes aimlessly and sometimes with great purpose.
Ginothy Tonic 
Leave a comment