pg16: Elaborate Ruse

I had to go bowling last night at 9 o'clock. Whoever you are, I'm probably the only person you know who ever "has" to go bowling. Since I'll be in North Bay all weekend, I had to "bowl off," which is, put in scores for them to use. I hate it. It doesn't simulate the actual environment, so I end up doing crappy, and my muscles get tired, and it's too much energy to waste in the middle of the week, on bowling. I could hardly walk this morning.

So, here I am. It's the end of a nice, short week, ready for the four-day weekend, and yet... ecch.

For one thing, I am positively loaded with homework. English is the worst, since I've still got to finish Huck Finn and a couple chapters of Wuthering Heights, but Writer's Craft is no picnic either. I am beginning to loathe poetry. I am discovering that it's a lot harder to write for teachers than for an actual audience. In all the reviews and columns I've ever written nobody ever felt the need to try and give me notes.

It's hard, man. I'm getting a little disgruntled. School is no fun lately. It's all work, work, read, write. I come home, and man, I just vegetate. That ain't much of a way to live. I need to unwind. The sad thing is, if it weren't Easter, I'd be able to do that.

See, it's Emma's birthday tomorrow. What luck to have it on a long weekend, eh? And she went about inviting pretty much everybody over for this huge bash at her house. And as she so repetitively reminded me, I was the only one who couldn't make it, because it's Easter and I have to be in North Bay tomorrow. It's a bummer, man.

On a not-entirely-unrelated topic, a lot of people are buzzing about prom/formal/codeword. For what it's worth, I ain't going. I don't really have an explanation why, nor do I feel like I need one. What would be the use for me to go stag to this thing? It ain't my scene.

This weekend will provide very little relaxation for me. No, as I get older, my sojourns in North Bay become more and more about desperately searching for some way to pass the time. In this case, it's predetermined that I'll be doing an ass-load of reading, as well as getting back after a tragic week-long hiatus from the latest Sewerman adventure.

We also had to write up a shopping list, of things we need Mom to pick us up for next week. This, I don't like, since Eric's and my style is that we go to the store and pick out what we want when we're there. We had a hard time trying to figure out what we wanted, and even then it's not exactly thorough.

Fuck, man! I'm about ready to lash out. Sometimes at school lately, I'll be talking to someone and I'll just be bubbling under with this rage, that I just want to let it all out, but I can't because, well, in polite society those things just aren't done. It's not even like there's any good reason.

Well, maybe... listen up kids, because Scotto's gonna share. It's spring. Sort of. I mean, you wouldn't know it to look outside, but the calendar confirms it - yup, it's technically Spring. And what that oughtta mean is that Scott's moving out of the "winter blahs" into the spring "blahs."

It's spring. I want to feel alive again. But more than that, oh so much more than that, I want... well, don't make me say it. It shouldn't be hard to guess at.

And I just want to be able to relax, instead of trudging on, lagging behind and getting no satisfaction in either my personal or professional lives.

I hope I get well rested oer the weekend. I'll keep you posted.

Keep on rockin
-Willie