3.1: Erase Me (Or Die Trying)

So dad put up our dart board today. What fun. It's kinda dangerous but fun: the best kind of fun.

Today the cast of the Breakfast Club got together at Barrett's house for rehearsal. Oh wait, that's only what was supposed to happen. What ended up happening was Shawn, Chris and I went over there, we talked about various things, some of them having to do with the play (but mostly not,) until we all left.

So April is about over. Although I've always hated February, perhaps the man was right when he said April is teh cruelest month - it wasn't particularly enjoyable.

Too tired to think... see you in May.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

3.0: Wish Me Away (If You Dare)

I feel like I'm in turmoil. I'm really not, and if I'd just settle down and look at it, I'd realize I've got a lot going for me, but I just can't help but feel like a goober lately. (Odd how a word I started using to be ironic has now become my go-to word.)

I'm developing a complex, I think, about eating in public. I was at McDonald's today with Doug and Ryan and I just felt ill. There's a number of possibilities at play here - maybe I wasn't really hungry, maybe I don't like the atmosphere, etc etc, but I'm worried that I have a thing about eating in public, or watching people eat. It's not the first time I've felt that, and usually it's in a McDonald's, so I wouldn't be surprised if it's exclusive to that place (and not even 100% of the time there,) but who knows? Of course, I believe 3rd period is too early to eat anyway, since I eat breakfast now. Maybe if I just stopped eating a bowl of cereal every morning I'd have an easier time eating at lunch (though I'd be starved through English - is that such a bad thing?) Odd how back in Grade 9 I thought 4th was way too late to eat (since at that time I was used to ROPS' prompt 11:15 lunch hour,) but now I'm like "ehh, who can eat at 10:50?" I'm a man of conflicts.

I've said the phrase "New york" so many times in the past few days that I fear it may lose all meaning. Meanwhile, I can't watch any Martin Scorcese movies in the next few days, because that'll freak me out too much. I guess I'll just stick to Woody Allen.

Well I don't have any Earth-shattering thoughts for today. Same old same old. Talk to you later, and keep on rockin'
-Scotto

2.9: Fuck n' Run (Or What You Will)

(Moan.)

Okay, so I lost my temper a bit today. It's so strange to see that after all these years I'm still something of a loose cannon, with a short fuse, so to speak. It's been a long time since I felt any real desire to just freak out on anybody, let alone someone I consider to be a nice guy, but I did anyway. I can't explain my actions, other than it's been a weird, hectic few days, and that I don't care for people messing with my Dr Pepper. And that fun is fun, but when somebody tells you to stop shaking their Dr Pepper, you do it, or they can't be held accountable for their actions. So eventually I apologized for trying to choke him and he apologized, too, so I think we're cool. I feel legitimately bad for losing my cool, since that's a stigma that's followed me around for years and years and by goodness I don't take kindly to people behaving like jerks. So I'm not all that big or threatening, but I can't help myself in a physical confrontation. I'll leave it at this: I'm not to be trifled with.

Or something.

On to much happier news: I finished writing for Ana's play, so now all I have to do is show it to her and we're set. Do I feel a little odd about writing someone else's play? A bit, but she was having trouble and she seems happy with it, so I'm glad. I didn't want her to be constantly rescheduling until it was too late, and so now, there's that. Now, will it be possible to pull a play together in a month? With the whole cast (as far as I can reckon) spending nearly a week in NYC? I guess we'll see. I like to think I write dialogue that is easy enough to memorize. I tend to avoid overt repetition (which is something that plagues my performance in Breakfast Club,) and there's a lot of discussion of facts, which leads to natural dialogue that flows. Ryan told me last year that even though he was onstage for the better part of 45 minutes in "Half-Past," his dialogue was easy enough (or not too difficult - sue me if I can't remember his wording,) to memorize, so hopefully that'll be the case here. Plus, it's an ensemble piece so nobody's got too many huge monologues or even dialogues (though that may irk some people, it'll prove benificial to others.) So now all that's left is to see if the rest of the cast is into it.

I'm all abuzz about New York. I've got everything pretty much taken care of that I can at this point.

I'm contented though. I got my crime-type story back from Guthrie, and the reaction seemed positive, other than an overt use of the comma splice and other gramattical errors, he liked the story apparently, so my need for approval is gratified. Plus, with Ana gushing over the Murder script, my ego is basically in danger of filling the room if I'm not careful. I always try to be aloof and distant when it comes to my work. Modesty is key, y'know? But there's only so much "this is great" a guy can take before he starts to think "yeah, it is great, and I'm great." Oh well, my cross to bear.

In other news, Eric got his wicked-awesome camera accessory kit in the mail today, so he's playing around with that. It features a powerful light, two tripods (one full-sized, one miniature,) several filters (for UV or fluorescent lights, that kind of thing,) and a wide/telephoto lens set, along with some other paraphernalia (lens cleaner, batteries, tapes, etc.) It's pretty cool.

Life is actually seeming good, in any way that can be expected. There's always, of course, that one thing at the bottom of it all that isn't right, but I just don't feel prepared to address that. I'm ill-equipt, so to speak.

Girls, man. What are ya gonna do?

Keep on rockin is all,
-Scotto

2.8: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again? (Didn't I do it right the first time?)

Holy shit. Guys do you realize I am but mere months away from graduating High School? Fuck, man! I can't believe this shit! I refuse to! My mind can't even comprehend this reality. I've spent my whole life being a writer, so that I never would have to confront reality, and now look! Everywhere you look is reality. It's so real it's frankly surreal. My mind has been racing all week, ever since my Sheridan tour. It's not that I'm not really excited, because I am, but also I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, and every day takes me closer to just falling to my death. Or something.

Be prepared, by the way, for like a thousand different posts on this subject between now and September. I doubt I'll be able to think of much else.

I still can't get my head around the passage of time. Like, in Grade 5, it was like that was your life, Grade School, and nothing could ever change. But it did, and in Grade 8 you (or I, in this case,) realized far too late how quickly time goes by. But then it's Grade 9 and you feel like High School is forever, but damn it totally is not. And that's a shame, because, (as, again, I'll probably be saying for months,) if I had to spend the rest of my life doing exactly what I'm doing right now... minus the whole "getting ready for college mentally" thing, I think I'd be okay, because by this point I feel like I'm finally just now getting to know some really cool people, and here it's all about to end. And now I'll have to go to college in the fall, where half the people will be a year older than me and thus probably prejudiced (some of them, anyway,) and I'll have to explain to any friends I make that I still live at home because I just happened to choose a college that was down the street from my house.

Yeah, I got issues. I oguthta be in therapy. Silly me, though - why be in therapy when I can just do this? It's almost the exact same thing.

It's not that I'm worried, it's just that it's hard to concentrate since I've got so much to deal with. Like, ahalfway throught April, somebody suddenly turned up the pressure, and my head is swimming with all these things. Like, the Fringe. It's no big deal, and I'm even getting some good exercise out of working on Ana's play, and Barrett's doing a bang-up job at directing (well, to me anyway, as I've shown up for every rehearsal,) and I know a thing or two about directing. It's jsut another thing.

And New York is coming up soon and my spirit is buoyed by that. Doug and I even check in every time we see each other, "so, you excited about New York?" Obviously, we are, and it's all any of us can think about. I'm debating in my head whether or not I should buy an iPod Mini for the trip - whether that would leave me enough cash. I reckon it would, but I'm on the bubble.

See, I'm positively drowning in stuff to think about. I can't even bitch about my own life! I mean yeah, I get a spare moment now and then to muse about how I'm still rather alone and fundamentally unloved (though rather well-liked, I'd like to think,) but there just aren't enough hours in the day. So I'll leave you with that. And this:

(ahem)

Start spreading the news...

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

2.7: What's going down (What's that sound?)

Wow. A quick post, because I've been so busy lately. First, we met Ms. Wilson's replacement yesterday, Mr. wilkinson. He's a good guy, but you can tell he's unseasoned and a tad uneasy with the regular teaching gig, since he's constantly trying to get a feel for the class rahter than just teaching the material. Once he finds his legs, he'll make a good replacement. He'll never really replace her in my heart, but he's suitable. The class won't really shift in dynamic or atmosphere so long as he eventually gets a handle on things.

Also yesterday, I took a tour of Sheridan, guided by a lovely Journalism student named Vanessa. She showed me around, gave me a few tips and a feeling about what's in store for me next year. And I was left with an extremely unsettling feeling of vertigo, but more on that later.

And New York is imminent. There was a bit of a room shake-up, also, and I'm now bunking with Ryan and Doug (ironically, when I thought I was rooming with Jesse Cree, I offered in jest to pay Ryan $50 to switch rooms. Moments later we found out it would've been retarded.) It's gonna be da bomb.

And both plays - Breakfast Club and Murder in the Wings - are really starting to kick it into high gear. I honestly don't know how I'm going to manage, which is why I'm giving myself a smaller role in Murder in the Wings. Seriously, Ana's having me do some script doctoring (I pretty well refuse to take a real writing credit,) and due to my existing trouble with line memorization in Breakfast Club (it's really just the one scene,) I figure I might as well alleviate the pressure on myself.

So I was in Writer's Craft today, reading over my short story, when I realized - it sucked. I feel like I'm capable of doing something much better than what I've written and it took me 1200 words and several nights of writing to realize that. So naturally I, too lazy to start over, finished it. Because I figure, it might not be the best, but at least it's complete, which is more than I can say for, say, "Funeral for a Freak."

Anyway, I'm beat. I was going to stay up for an hour continuing work on "Murder," but I feel like I've made a good start and now need to sleep on it before I can continue. (The inherent problem with that is that I tend not to sleep while writing, as I am frequently overloaded with ideas.)

Why am I even writing this? Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

2.6: Some Days (Something in Parentheses)

My severe lack of conversational material causes me to begin this post with this unfortunate note: the 12 Angry Men did not "win" at Bradford. Rather, according to what my sources indicate, that honour went to the 50-minute production of The Scottish Play, (Shakespeare's the Tragedy of MacBeth, for the non-superstitious among us,) which everyone I knew who was going was interested in seeing. They must've done a good job of hacking the Bard to pieces. I remember seeing WOSS' MacBeth years ago... must've been grade 10. That was a pretty good show, starring Sean Kenwood as the title role. I heard he moved out west and pursued an acting career. Anyway, I'm getting off topic (if indeed, I am ever "on topic" in this thing,) and I'd like to send both my condolences and congratulations to the Angry Men. The former for their loss, and the latter because they put on a helluva show regardless.

What a dreary weekend it's been. The sky just will not stop being grey, and it was positively pouring out all day yesterday, and it was depressing. All damp, and mildewy in the basement, it felt like. We had to go grocery shopping out in the rain, and that was unpleasant. April showers, as they say.

So tomorrow we meet Ms. Wilson's replacement, the amusingly-named, I shit you not, Mr. Wilkinson Like, I know Anglo names are not uncommon, and even my name is close to Ms. Wilson's, but what are the odds? Just a "kin" apart. Our Thurs-Fri substitute lady spoke highly of him, but I'll be the judge of that. So, we're doing Hamlet now, and of course in English class, that means going around the room and picking out roles to flavourlessly read out parts in the play. I actually snagged Hamlet and sufficiently butchered it by dyslexically stumbling through it, trying to speak as I read, not the easiest thing to do even without Shakespearean dialogue.

Anyway, that's all I got for now, so you can all just keep on rockin'
-Scotto

2.5: Standing on the corner (howling at the moon.)

Well man was I stressed out today. I was getting the runaround because of this Health Card thing, but thankfully it's all straightened out, and in retrospect, it was kind of a good day: in spite of weather that was increasingly worse as the day wore on, an expensive spoiling of apetite, absence of most of my good friends and friendly acquaintances, and just plain irritability.

Note for later: Lick's is too expensive of a restaurant to ever be considered for dining in the future.

Anyway, I'm somehow feeling good at the end of this miserable day. I wrote a bunch of pages of my pet project, the conveniently-titled screenplay "Work in Progress," which features some severely clever dialogue - at least, as far as I can reckon. I mean, I'd like to think I know when a line I've written is good, or when it's a total do-over.

You know what I think? I think the evolution of PC's has made the whole concept of "Re-Writing" obsolete. No hard copy of this script exists, and I can edit as I go along. I can revise as I please, as I go, and in places where it would not be possible in past times, at my leisure. I think tha told writer's cliche of "Writing is Re-writing" may still stand, but it won't be taken in the same way. I need not write an enitre script and then go back and re-write the whole thing 17 times, as Guthrie insists was the true path. Heresy, perhaps, but I speak from experience. Why bother building on something you don't like and can easily get rid of? Re-writing has been revolutionized and it's time writers worked smarter, and not harder.

That's my soapbox for today.

I'm still happy about waht I've written and will be glad to continue working on it, hopefully tomorrow.

And by the by, by this point all my Sears friends have been off the stage for a while, I reckon, and I do hope they broke their legs, if you know the expression. We'll know the results soon enough.

Until then, that's really all I've got to say for now, so do please keep on rockin'
-Scotto

2.4: Trying to Get Through This (Walk On)

SMASH.

Ever feel like the whole world was crumbling? Well, it's not but I'm just really irritable today. Not even jsut today, but for a couple of days I've been just unhappy. Yesterday, Dad was really making a thinly-veiled attempt to goad me into getting a license to use as ID on the New York trip, and it was really fuckin' irksome. Not that I have any objection to getting a license, I've sworn an oath that I'm gonna do that this summer. Why all the hatin'? I brought up the alternative of getting a photo Health Card and he was not having it. Jesus man, let it be.

Meanwhile, Ms. Wilson/Mrs. Olma (as Mr. Guthrie insistently called her,) has left class, 2 days early, and she is presumably at this moment giving birth, or fresh from giving birth to her baby. Yeah, I'm happy, and babies are fun, but it saddened me that she had to leave so suddenly. I love Ms. Wilson as much or more than any student ever did, and I'm probably not going to see her again, unless she comes in for a visit, which is not impossible.

I mean, we had to write an essay in class today, and I'd promised her I'd come up with a really special title to make up for just leaving the last one at "Writing Task." And now she'll never see the brilliant title I used on this one. I can't catch a break. I've got nothing going for me at the moment and it's really starting to get me down.

Most of my good friends will be off tomorrow, in Bradford (not Brantford,) performing as the 12 Angry Men once more; either they're in the play or working tech on it. It causes me to reflect on the true reasons why I didn't audition. So what was it? Paranoia of not getting cast? Some strange kid of animosity toward Rosser about being a butler last time? Apathy for the material? Fear of missing class? All of the above? None, actually. A confession: There have been times, many times when I wished I hadn't been such a blamed fool, and just said "Okay, yes, I'll audition for Sears." If cast, I could've been part of that crew, which is loaded with cool cats, and at times I could kick myself for not doing so. But I have my own problems. Namely, during Earnest, I was really starting to feel like absolute shit: I wasn't sleeping properly, or eating right, my back was constantly killing me (after the last show I wanted to just cry or pass out from the pain.) Add to that the fact that Sears is a competition and I'd have every right to expect that the ole NVR would kick in (I'm such a resigned victim of it now it was somewhat a preemptive surrender,) and man did I not want to deal with that. So I feel like a tool, but those are my reasons, and any time I feel lame for not going ahead with it, I just remember sitting in Cary's basement after the last show, in the fetal position on the floor, teeth clenched, trying to relax... it was severely not cool.

So now I've said that.

And now I'll say this to anyone with ears to hear:

All the 12 Angry Men and all the folks who make that show possible, rock to the edge. I wish extreme leg-breakage on that stage tomorrow.

Anyway, back to my rage at the world today. I'm still mad, because I jsut have this feeling that nothing's going to work out for me, and I'll just be mired in this funk for weeks, capable of nothing but sitting here and complaining. I feel almost as helpless and defeated as last month, after I found out about Leanne from Bateman.

I need help, though. So help me if you can, I'm feeling down.

Thanks for the words, John.

Sigh...

Keep on Rockin' my children
-Scotto

2.3: Sanctuary (The World Drags Me Down)

Okay, a real quick entry. No feelings or crap today, jsut a quick, bizarre anecdote.

Yesterday was such a nice day. It was so nice that I skipped law to go outside and play, figured, eh, it's a sub, it won't make a difference. Now, later that evening, Mom got a call from the attendance robot, saying I'd skipped. So I bullshit her at first, saying "Yeah, we had a sub, he must've written it down wrong," and she says "Okay, no big deal, wouldn't have mattered to me anyway." So I figured Eh, why bother?" Because I don't like to lie if I don't have to, so I square it out with mom and admit "Yeah, I skipped." Well, okay, she's not happy, but we're cool. No big deal. So today, I decided my skipping days were behind me, and went to class, did my work like a good little boy, and went home, proud of myself. And yet, after dinner, Mom almost immediately comes over to me and says "So are you having trouble in 5th period? It says you skipped again." Woah, what?? I actually go to class and this is the thanks I get? I've often had this theory about my ability to be precognisant in my writing; like, some of the stuff I wrote in Summer of Sixteen ended up happening to me, and in Night Sessions, among other things, but this is just whack, man. So now I don't think mom trusts me, sicne it's so unlikely. I don't believe it myself, but I've got work in my binder to prove it.

So that was a little fucked up. Keep on rockin'
-Scott

2.2: What you'll find (Treasure Hunt)

It's been an interesting couple of days. I got up early today and yesterday to help Rosser with something; he needed a senior to come and do the Hit and Run scene, and I was the first one he found. I'll tell you, if I didn't flex my improv muscles enough on Friday, I sure felt exercised today, because I was riffin' all over those Grade 9's. One group tried knew about the officer beforehand (some douchebag kid had told them,) and tried to prepare. Funny, when you're in Grade 9, "preparation" means your mind immediately goes to sexualizing the scene, where the kids wound up trying to flirt their way out of being arrested. Oddly enough, that was when I was playing an uber-Christian cop, but their persisted with this "plan," and it actually was pretty funny. What wasn't funny was how insistently they stuck to this failsafe, and uh, well, let's just say one of the Grade 9 girls got in the way of my hands, if you catch my drift.

Other than that, I don't feel like I've got a lot to be happy about lately. Still in a rut, is this one. I had a nice talk with Emma, where we broached on all topics from her perscription drugs, the meaning of society, and the male-female dynamic. I basically decided that the only reason any male does anything is because it's part of an elaborate scheme to get laid. And prove me wrong! She said that girls also liked sex too, but I figure it's different, because it feels less important to girls. I dunno, it had more weight when I was originally saying it,a nd now in re-recording it I can't do justice to the original discussion.

So in any case, it's clearly spring. In fact, were it not that all the trees are jsut so bare of leaves, I'd swear it was summer, it was that hot today. And since it is that magical time of he year, the hormones are flowing, the girls are dressing more and more like girls, and Scott is just wondering what the hell he is doing. Y'know, I really wish I could just go to Randi and say yes already, but it ain't happening. The last thing I want is to get tangled up in a relationship that is only there because there was nobody else. All the same, between you and me, I think she might be fine with that, but I don't want to find out. At least, I hope it doesn't come to that. No offense to her, she's a greal girl: quick and funny, pretty and gregarious, but there were things that bothered me. Trivial shit, shit that shouldn't matter but bugged me all the same and I just can't see it working better a second time around even without another guy in the picture.

So if anybody out there is reading this, congrats on knowing my most intimate teenage problems. I could very well be writing this in my Writer's Craft journal, but no, I've chosen to make my problems public. What a tool I must look like, but who are you to judge? Haha, I love attempts at alienating the readers - makes me feel big. Seriously, if you enjoy reading this thing, I enjoy writing in it. It's actually helped over the last year. Holy crap, I've been doing this almost a year now. If I was the sentimental type, I'd consider doing a huge celebration for that event next month. Fortunately, I'm too lazy to be legitimately sentimental, so be thankful for that.

So anyway, yeah, I'm a bit stuck for the moment, and nothing looks like it's gonna change. I'm just sort of pacing back and forth, wondering when I'm just going to give in to what even now I realize must be inevitable.

Eh, one can only do so much kvetching in a single entry. Keep on rockin'
-Scott

2.1: The Long Way (The Wrong Way)

So I've actually been doing something lately. I started work on this Homeless Ninja miniseries like, forever ago, as a sort of vanity project aside from the work I was doing with Eric on Sewerman. I worked on it in bits and pieces, although it was a lot edgier than the typical "Journey into the Sewer" stuff (which ain't no kid's stuff to begin with.) The language and level of adult humour is bumped to the forefront, so if Sewerman isn't for kids then Homeless Ninja is really for adults. Even though I hardly did any work on it, Kris somehow got ahold of it and really seemed to like the script (as well as working on a Homeless Ninja story, since he pretty well created him.) And when we saw each other last weekend, it was pretty much all he wanted to talk about, and I liked his pasion for the idea, so I've revisited it and am now quite a few pages further into it. I don't know when we can expect to get busy on it, but it seems like it will actually happen eventually.

In other news, yesterday was a cool day. Yes, I did bowl a 196, but that's not the big story. The cast and crew of the Breakfast Club, minus Shawn Crawford who had to go do some thing (not something, "some thing,") at some place. We hauled it all out to Value Village for costumes and I have to say it was highly successful. Chris beat me to the punch by comparing it to last October's venture out to Stratford for Earnest costumes (of course, we're the only ones who were there,) and this time there were no velcro pants for me - although I feel I got a damn good suit for Vernon, featuring a douchey yellow dress shirt that's so starchy I can't even believe it. It's not directly like the one in the movie (which had a black shirt and no tie,) but I think it'll make people laugh when Bender says "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

After that little adventure, we lit out for Barrett's to watch the movie, which was just awesome. I mean, the movie itself is awesome, but watching it with all those guys was cool too. "Fun times," as the kids say.

So now I'm really looking forward to the play. I mean, as soon as it involves costumes and playing dress-up, it becomes something competely different, something more real and more important-seeming. And legitimacy is something that always seems to be lacking from Fringe productions (See "Half-Past Eight PM: People Who Didn't Show Up For Rehearsals For, Rescheduling Of, Pre-Show Votes As To the Future Of.")

Anyway, I'm real excited and everything. Other than that, not much to say. Upodated Interneta recently, so there's that.

Good night all and keep on rockin
-Scotto

2.0: Dream a little dream (of me.)

Well sir, Arts Showcase was tonight, and it was actually a massive success, at least for me and my creed. My little piece of an excuse to come and see the show for free, Improv, went down actually very well. I got a bit of laughs, but I had to literally bend over backwards (and fall on the ground, imitating AC/DC guitarist Angus Young) to get it. Doug totally proved why he is the star of the team - the guy is unstoppable, and if I ever make a movie, I don't wanna lose touch with him.

I like the drama kids. What can I say? I've already said, there's not much I like more than just chillin' with several of my drama ilk, and though it was busy night and little "chilling" was done, it's great to be around them. I don't think I'll ever know a better group of people to just sit and shoot the breeze, or to be onstage with.

But enough of that. It was a fun night; hectic in getting it together, but I just feel so invigorated. If it weren't so late, and I didn't have to go bowling tomorrow, I'd probably be inclined to stay up writing something. As it is, I might see fit to write the next chapter of Metaworld in the near future, just because it's been a while.

I must... resist... bring this entry down... with pining... for... female...!

Sorry about yesterday's depressed entry. It was how I was feeling yesterday and, by the same measure, this is how I feel today. I think I'm on the road to recovery.

Well that's all I really wanted to say. Thanks to the Improv Team, the Cast of 12 Angry Men and all the assorted individuals involved who put up with my constant hanging-on and my insistent re-telling of my "Homemade Brownies with Patented Williams Flavour Pockets" joke (I put the brownies in my pockets, and walk around.)

Good night all, and keep on rockin'
-Scotto

1.9: Gimme a Hand (Helpless)

I'll just come out and say it: Improv is a clusterfuck. There! I said it. Somehow we got roped into arts night even though we deactivated months ago, and trying to gether everybody up is like, well, it's like trying to gather up a bunch of seniors. Not to mention the fact that our fuckin' Grade 9's both quit, those assholes. Arts night is tomorrow and nothing has been done in the area of improv. You don't need to be Chris Brown to see that is a bad thing. Now, because of poor planning - terrible, terrible planning and I'm not putting the blame anywhere - I have to get up at 7 am to contribute to an Improv meeting which should have happened at lunch yesterday, except the team was scattered.

So I'm frustrated about that, but no, that's not all. Would this be my blog if it were?

Today was Poetry in Writer's Craft. Now, I've already said that my passion for poetry is severely lacking these days, but going over the tripe I handed in to Mr. Guthrie today (that is, going over it today, not what I handed in today,) I just wonder what the hell I am doing trying to write. Poetry, at least. Honestly! He read out some poems today that just knocked me out. There is some damn good stuff in there and here I am, giving like, 50% effort on this stuff, and it shows. I jsut can't get inspired. Nothing inspires me these days! So there was this one poem, a personification about Fire, which I thought was pretty good. And in the drafting stage, Guth looked it over and said it was good, but that I should add it it, address the more dangerous side of fire. So I did, I gave it a rather good extension, and know what he says when he gives it back to me? He writes that it could do with some pruning - and to think, if he'd never told me to add to it, it would only have been 6 lines long! I'm not mad at him, so much as myself, but mostly I'm just confused. It's representative of a larger problem - what do I have to do?

I think that Writer's Craft, if anything, is showing me that I just have no future in schooling as a creative writing student. I have trouble writing something I am told to write. I didn't want to write imagist poems, so I didn't write any good ones. I didn't want to tell my "Poem about a person" as a story, so I didn't really. And the results, clearly, show that I'm not made to write what I'm told.

I'm getting burned out on this crap. It's all crap! I wrote well over a thousand words to begin a crime story, and it's totally crap. I can't even pay attention to the things I've been writing recently that are good, ("Work in Progress," "Metaworld," and even Sewerman,) because I'm too busy writing lame poetry for Guthrie. God, there was one about a girl's first time having sex that was just incredibly written, and looking at what I've done, it's total shit. And yet, Anisah and Ji-Sun sought me out (weeks ago) to contribute to the yearbook? Pheh. they'd be better off with almost anyone else in that class for poetry. Fuck poetry. That's my thought for today. Seriously! Fuck it. I'm through with poetry as soon as Guthrie's done teaching it (which ought to be soon.)

So I'm lacking inspiration. I've bottomed out in that respect. I try to reach down for something that stirs me and makes me want to write, and for perhaps the first time in memory, there is nothing. And sit is frustrating the hell out of me. I'm going mad. I have nothing to write, nothing to write about, and no desire to write. What the fuck? I didn't think it was possible. Maybe because I'm too focussed on my own crappy life. (Ironically, stressing about the desire to write only contributes to how crappy I feel these days, so that's all cyclical.)

I just want to graduate. What I really want is for school to be done with so I can have the summer to myself to relax and try to write, (and hopefully, work.) I really wish Ana would hire me on for another script, since that was such an amazing experience. But I don't think that's likely, since by the time she's done with the current one, she'll be off and busy in school probably, with no room for another project. Not to mention that she appears to be working with another writer on her next project (not that I'm jealous... okay, I pretty much am.) I basically just wish I could justify my reputation. I feel like ever since Half-Past, or maybe for some other reason, people look at me and see a guy who can really bang out some quality writing, but I have not done something of that caliber since... you guessed it... Sixteen. Ever since then it's just been average or worse. Hell, I got more satisfaction out of writing an essay in English class than those poems I just handed in. All the drama projects I worked on this year, though mostly of good quality (and Night Sessions should not be overlooked as a good script, judging by the audience reaction,) were nothing to write home about.

I'm in a rut. It's not even just about writing. It's my whole life. I walk around, all day, half-alive. Breathing, and conscious, but not really there. I feel like half a man. (See, that sounds poetic, but it's really quite abstract, which is not something Guthrie likes.) Naturally, I'm talking about females. It always comes back to that, don't it? Yeah, well, that's my life: writing and girls. Occasionally, it's rock & roll and movies, and a lot of the time, comics or pro wrestling, but it mostly just boils down to writing and girls. Which is why that's what most of my entries are about.

What can I say, man? It ain't my fault. I don't know any available females, and I'm not in a position to meet any. Okay, that's outside of the (very small) community of girls whom I've already dated and who want me to date them again, an option that, with each passing day, I am more and more tempted to accept because frankly when you're backed into a corner you look for any possible escape.

Yes, I am still on that.

Here, I'm going to write you a poem, right now, in one draft, that attempts to fit the model of quality Guthrie has laid out.

The writer paces a beaten circle,
counting his footsteps.
He wonders how many it will take
before he has finally written something
that will change the world.

That was not an imagist poem. It was not a personification poem. It was not about a person nor did it tell a story. It was just a few words, arranged carefully, that don't rhyme, and are about something.

Okay, enough, I'm going in circles. I'd better quit. I've got to be up early tomorrow anyway. I'm just a belligerent typist at this point.

I'm no better than when I started, but... I'm done now, so there's nothing left to do but sit on it.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

1.8: In Search of Adventure (Somewhere)

I feel so helpless these days. I feel like the protagonist from that great Clash song (redundant though that is,) "Lost in the Supermarket." And seriously kids, if you don't know the Clash, invest some of your time in them, because as a general rule, nobody doesn't like the Clash; particularly London Calling.

Buy anyway, I just felt broken down today. I felt like just shutting down, ceasing to operate. Maybe because I got up early and was at school way early, so I was running on empty. Maybe because I'm just going through the motions with school these days. All in all it's actually a pretty weak way to end my scholastic career. I'd have felt much more fulfilled if I'd have finished school after last year! Okay, I don't even know what that's supposed to mean, but whatever, okay?

So I was up an' at 'em early today because I had some business with Rosser. Becky was kind enough to tell me yesterday that a spot had miraculously opened up on the New York trip, and I just happened to have a huge sum of money burning a hole in my pocket. Naturally, I jumped at the chance, and took the appropriate measures to be the first person to fill that bad boy. So yes, I am going to New York after all, that's awesome, because as soon as it was announced that we'd be seeing Spamalot I just flipped. The downside is, since I was so late, I didn't exactly get to be a part of the room-synthesis process, so I'm jammed into whatever room has a vacant slot. Whatever, it's not like sleep is that big of a facet of the trip.

Tomorrow and friday, it's up cartoonishly early again, to practise for Improv. Scott does not approve - it's not to be funny early in the morning. The word "easy" goes in that sentence somewhere... I dunno where.

So yeah, I was just totally self-absorbed and frustrated for most of today. In a funk. I hope I snap out of it too, thanks for your concern. Keep on Rockin
-Scotto

1.7: Get a Grip (Back to square one)

I'm pretty frustrated. My computer keeps just kinda getting paralyzed - not freezing, just not working. Life's no good to me lately. I just trudge through, doing what I'm supposed to to the best of my ability, but it's nothing I can be too proud of. Oh blog, you understand me.

The last few days have been okay other than that. Yesterday, we went up to Palmerston for Elizabeth's and Madie's birthdays, hung out with Kris, talked shop (mostly about the Homeless Ninja miniseries he's enthusiastic about doing but the script for which I haven't finished.) I found out, pretty much to Eric's dismay, that Madie really likes me and yet shuns him. I think babies dig me more now, because I don't work for their attentions. I never try to make them pay attention to me, the way Eric and Brandon do, so I'm more interesting. That's just a working theory though. It could be that I smell nicer, I dunno (I had shaved that day and thus smelled of aftershave.)

The more I think about it, the more consideration I'm giving to this Randi situation. I mean, I'm reluctant, but then, I was reluctant last time anyway. It's not like I've got a whole lotta options over here, and I'm starting to hit critical mass, if you know what I mean. I'll be honest, I was even considering calling her up tonight, but I decided to put that off a bit. This whole relationship is psychologically damaged enough without me diving in before being ready.

Thank you, readers, for putting up with me and my insane self-obsession. Hey, I make up for it in real life by almost never talking about myself. Honestly, blogging may have made me a more considerate person.

The more I think about it, the more I abhor writing for school, because I never like the results. I guess, though, if I only wrote things I wanted to write, nobody would be able to hold me to someone else's standards. This is particularly true of Writer's Craft, where I'm not digging what I've written for this "Begin a Crime story" assignment. Don't get me wrong, it was a good assignment, I just should've done it much better than I did.

The smell of popcorn wafts down from upstairs and makes me hunger.

That's all my bitching for tonight. Join me next time for the same shit on a different day, and as ever, keep on rockin'
-Scotto

1.6: Runner (In Hiding)

More poker at lunch today. After Anisah left, cleaned up pretty good, too. Yes, I sure did have plenty of little scraps of paper.

Had a law test, for which I was hardly well-prepared. Still, he said we could go as soon as we were done, and I finished in good time, and I managed to go out for a walk. It's springtime, and a boy's thoughts turn to those of Cherry Coke, a beverage I love perhaps unreasonably. It makes me sick to drink on an empty stomach, (I do have a notoriously weak stomach,) but I love the flavour. Of course, ironically, I liked Wild Cherry Pepsi better, but they don't sell that anymore. Here, anyway. Anyway, the weather was gorgeous, and after I got back, I went to Drama Council. Rosser wasn't there this week, so I was actually let in this time. Yet instead of contributing, I mostly just played Go Fish with Alyssa. Came home, watched a couple movies, had dinner, not necessarily in that order, but you figure it out, and here we are.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm 100% filled with rage 100% of the time, but I'm certainly in no great mood lately. Even though I have college to look forward to, school's not bad (frustratingly devouring my life, and mindlessly repetitive, sure, but not "bad," per se,) I'm so down it hurts, and all I can do is whine about it to you, blog. I don't say this to anybody in particular, because sometimes it can be really hard to whine directly to someone about something they probably don't care about. But I know there are those who read it, sometimes, so at least you'll hear this, even if you don't care.

Now, I want you to remember, I'm not some sad, lonely emo kid, in the fetal position listening to Alexisonfire in the dark or something. I'm just some dude at his computer trying to figure shit out. Not that there's anything wrong with emo kids, I just don't want anyone to have the wrong idea about me.

I had a choice to make recently. I've mentioned it vaguely in this blog, but I don't know if I've ever outlined it. I don't feel like doing so now because it makes me feel too exposed. Even over the safety net of the internet (play on words there, a bit, not really but whatever,) there are still things I won't own up to. Anyway, I never really made a decision on that, but I think that, as Rush sang, by choosing not to decide, I still made a choice, as the girl in question (there's a clue for you, if you didn't know,) hasn't spoken to me since making this earnest proposal. It's not that I wouldn't want to say yes, because believe me I wouldn't even need to be as desperate as I am. It just wouldn't be right. I'd be doing it for the wrong reasons, to satiate my own desires instead of expressing any real feelings for her. Yeah, okay, I feel up to saying it now. Weeks ago, I think it must've been 2 Mondays, Randi came to me and said, I quote "I mis you; ALOT." In caps, just like that. And that knocked me for a loop since we've had hardly any contact. And in case you didn't know this about her, and I wouldn't expect you to, but she's all about implications and innuendo. One thing that always bugged me was the way she was either putting them where they didn't belong or seeing them where they weren't there. She put a deeper meaning into everything, and saw them everywhere.

So why am I so aversed to this? No idea. When the relationship ended, it was on good terms, and we even said "we'll try again some other time." Is some other time now? Do I even honestly think there'll be some other time? Is there someone else? Well fuck no there's no-one else, if there was there wouldn't be a problem. And fuck you Scott and your rhetorical questions. Do I still have feelings? I don't know. When I think about her I tend to think more of the negative parts of going out with her than the positives. I was hoping, God was I hoping to just move on and find someone else but it damn sure hasn't happened and now look. I have two options - her or solitude. Neither sounds particularly appealing, and if I'm willing to say that about her then you can see how uninterested I am.

So that's that. And I feel like I may have embarassed myself by just writing all this but, as I've said many a time in the past, this is my blog, why should I feel embarassed? I'm putting myself out there, I still have my dignity. You're the one reading it and if you've got a problem, well, you know where the "browser quit" button is.

So that's all for today. I mean, after all that, what more could there be?

As I've said to many a situation before, this really can't end well.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

1.5: Drilled (Just a Test)

Ay yi yi... I'm getting such anxiety. Man, I got to take some time to just chill the hell out, but as it stands I cannot. The heat is on for this English project I'm working on with Ryan Goad - a seminar type thing where I actual level of content is thus far quite thin. It's getting hard to nail down any concrete details about our discussion, but we're going to have to. We can't just go in there and wing it, as much as I'd like to.

Went out for tea (not much of a tea man, I had the hot chocolate,) and gawking-at-chameleons with Emma and Alyssa at lunch. "The weather's fine," Emma said, "it's kinda raining but you don't need a jacket." Yeah... so that's about the last time I trust Emma. Okay, so it wasn't pouring but it wasn't pleasant. Fun was had, though. Luckily this time, unlike tuesday, we made it back in time for 4th period.

Uneventful day. I was awakened by Aerosmith's "Deuces are Wild" - a nice power ballad but one that hardly set the charts afire - and a little piece of commentary by DJ/Morning Man about how Texas Hold 'Em is becoming a rather disturbing fad - and it is, isn't it? All the kids play it. Websites hosting online games are advertised on TV, Wal-Mart keeps plenty of "Poker Sets" in stock, and all my friends, (myself included,) unable to play with real chips have resorted to ripping up little scraps of paper to use as chips. This poker thing has gotten a bit out of hand (no pun intended - although that was a good one,) and I think I might lay off for a little while. Eric was watching the Nascar Charity tournement and that was just a little too much for me. Rule of thumb: If Nascar pros are doing something, I probably shouldn't be.

I'm fast finding through Writer's Craft that poetry is not my forte. Maybe I'm not a terrible poet, but I just can't put forth the type of effort that might be required sometimes. Maybe I'm just worn out, though.

It's a shame... all that time off came before I actually needed it. I could use a long weekend, but there's none in sight.

I wish I had more to say today, but isn't that kind of a stretch as it is? This post will not go down as one of the all-time classics of my blogging career, that's for sure.

Good night all and keep on rockin
-Scott

1.4: Here we are (No-one else)

I remember a time in Grade 3, when Mrs. Young gathered us all together to put on a small play about bugs and why they were necessary to have on Earth. It took place in a courtroom, and all of the bugs would take the stand and defend themselves, and the jury would sing a song basically saying "okay, we're convinced, we need you here." And everyone in the jury wore Groucho Marx glasses for some reason. Anyway, it turned out that I ran tech for that little presentation (flipping the overhead projector on and off, and switching the sheets when necessary,) because it was for whatever reason believed I'd be better for that than anyone else (for it was under Mrs. Young's watch that I was first identified "gifted.") but also I was glad to do it, because I thought the script was lousy. Yes kids, even in Grade 3, when I was about 8 years old and didn't know my ass from a hole in the ground, I felt like I was in a position to judge my peers' writing abilities. I must've been somethin' else, full of it.

And God, that was such a long time ago (half a lifetime!) I have absolutely no idea why that came up in my head, but it did, so I thought I'd share that with blog-land.

I must apologize for yesterdays rather maudlin entry. I was in an odd headspace, you know how it gets, but I'm better today. I just got better, though, because I was only "okay" until recently. Then in order to kill time, I started writing and got a few pages of my latest work done. I'm not able to do it in huge bursts, like say, "Summer at Sixteen," because of all the schoolwork (which I've been neglecting anyway,) but rather in little dribs and drabs, a few pages, a scene or two now and then. Still, I think it's going well, and I'll show it off on Interneta when it's done.

As for Metaworld... I've been neglecting it, but that's okay since nobody reads it, so it's not big whup. Don't worry, I'm not tossing it out, since I like it and am comitted to it beyond what is even reasonable. I've got too many ideas cooking for it to be ignored.

Today was nice. Between 4th and 5th, I was seized by an inhuman hunger, and I must confess - I took flight. I ran out to the White Store to grab a Snickers between classes. Was I late for Law? Muy, si. Did anybody notice or care? Not really. That was fun.

I went to the mall today and used my $20 HMV Gift Card (courtesy of Mom running over my foot, see several entries ago,) to buy a couple of movies. Actually, it ended up being a Rob Reiner double feature, as not only was Spinal Tap on sale for $10, but The Princess Bride as well! How could I pass that up. Sidenote: Why do I have to pay tax on a fuckin' gift card? That's so gay it inspires me to use that word in the pejoritive sense.

Well, all's well that ends well. Tomorrow, yet another day. Who knows what's in store? I sure don't. So, I guess I'll see when I get that. And me I'll just chill 'till I find out. And you, you can keep on rockin

-Scotto

1.3: Bewildered (Hazy Shades)

So I'm a little off lately. My mind is an entanglement and even to try and sort through the consortium of thoughts in there seems a chore.

I'm not the man I used to be. This is possibly, I might speculate, due to the lack of improv, and hence dulled conversational abilities and wit. I can't summon a conversation the way I used to be able to. I can't maintain a rapport while talking with someone. It's weird how quickly it leaves. Fortunately, from what I heard, the WOSS Improv team is doing one last number at the WOSS Arts event that's going on in a couple weeks. So this, if true, means we'll have to find some time to practice, shouldering in between all the Fringe plays and not to mention the granddaddy of 'em all, the 12 Angry Men. I'm sensing some morning practices, the of which I am not in favour. Still, when it's your only option...

Life sucks. I know I just got into college and I should have the world on a string, but right now it sucks to be me. I've got it okay, in the grand scheme of things, but I've just got nothing going on and it's torture. How much longer can I repeat myself? How many complaints can I issue before even I get tired of hearing it? How much more dramatic can I get? I need to reeeelaxxx and forget my troubles.

I don't really know what I need, beyond that.

Today was okay, though. We had rehearsal for the Breakfast Club, and I've officially played every male character at some point or another, because Shawn wasn't there for a good part of it and I sat in as Bender.I felt groggy afterward, had a slight meal of McDonald's (while at lunch with Emma/Ryan/Doug/Chris, we went there, and I resisted eating, knowing it'd be my supper,) beat Eric at poker a few times, watched Scrubs, did some homework (ugh, me?) and now am here doing this. Gee, with such a busy life, how can I say I don't have anything going on? (/sarcasm)

I'm not happy. That's not to say I couldn't be happy, or at very least contented. I'm just in a funk. A pretty major one. It doesn't help that I'm bitching about this (nothing) to this blog, which is read by nobody, and nothing will get done about it - I'll just keep doing this. It's frustrating and disheartening to think.

Sorry for the low-spirited post. I just feel sorta uncared for at the moment, but the blog is comfort. To a point.

Keep on Rockin
-Scott

1.2: Just when they think they know the answers (I change the questions.)

Boy oh boy. I'm one busy little jerk. I'm bogged in homework, completely befuddled by the amount I have to do and yet cannot bring myself to do. After all, I am sitting here doing this rather than that. Why? Why, man? I have oh so much Writer's Craft to do and yet I'm totally off track. Way off. All the same, I'm pretty f'n glad. Know why? 'Cause ole Scotto just got his acceptance. That's right readers - I'm college bound. And to think, there were times when I just thought so low of myself and that even this seemingly uncomplicated goal would elude me, and this is just such a relief. Got my first choice, too.

So I'm happy. Dunno how long it will last, but I'm excited. I have a purpose, a goal, a destination here on this Earth. Man, I'm excited.

That's all. I should probably get to work on homework. So keep on rockin' for me
-Scotto

1.1: Dare You To (Reluctance)

I just thought I'd pop in and say what a crappy weekend it's been. Weather-wise, at least. What happened to Spring, man?

It's not been a great weekend. Friday kicked it off, I've already explained; and the weather. And yesterday, Mom ran over my foot. You should've heard the cry of shock, horror and pain I gave out when that happened - it was inhuman!

But today was actually fun, the weather notwithstanding. We had a huge, albeit somewhat pointless, family gathering. It was pointless in that the purpose of it was even sketchier than the infamous annual "Fake Christmas." Uncle Dave and Aunt Sharman jsut wanted to get all the family together because they're worried about Grandpa. And their worry is unnecessary, because the doctor says he's got a very stong heart, apparently. The guy's 100. He's lived a damn good, long, fruitful life. Why fret now, I say. But we did get to see a literal plethora of babies. Everyone's got one. See, the generation gap on that side of the family is immense, because my Grandma,who is the eldest of Grandpa's children, finished having children by the time her brother Bob started, and Bob's kids are pretty much older than David's, so it's like a cascade, and David's kids are all only a little older than me and my cousins. Then there's Bob's grandkids who are a couple of girls about 6-10 (I dunno.) And now Sharman and Dave have baby grandkids, and meanwhile my aunts have their babies, so at least this generation is consistent.

Tons of babies, man.

Know what else I have tons of? Homework, so I've gotta get on that. Keep on Rockin'
-Scott

1.0: Exit Strategy (The Walls Close In)

So, it's April Fool's day. Honestly, I was never one for the April Fool's, because my sense of humour usually stays on the "totally inoffensive" side of things, and when I try to prank someone, I jsut go overboard into the "totally sadistic" side, which is not exactly where you want to be. I remember one year switching my mom's sugar for salt, which she made me feel bad about afterward since she'd had her coffee... and once that was done with I couldn't think of anything that wasn't too cruel - or was cruel enough.

Still, even without any major pranking, it was a rather eventful day. The kind of day bored kids go home adn write about in ther blogs. I had to get up early and go into Ms. Wilson's period 1 class, because I had to do a writing task and there was the finals for Reach today. The task wasn't too difficult, and to my surprise, actually helped warm my brain up, just as Ms. Wilson suggested it might. As for the tournement - it was rough goings. We lost the first game (which I didn't play,) but won the other two (creaming Bateman in the 2nd and squeaking by TAB in the finals.) Fun was had courtesy of the free lunch, which was always a big selling point whenever Mrs. Reither used to discuss Reach with somebody ("...and we have a big final at the end of the year, and lunch is provided..." she'd always be sure to note.) Ultimately, we came in second, because the first team who beat us (Aldershot,) had the same W-L record as us, and Bateman couldn't pull out a win against them, which took it to head-to-head tiebreaking, which obviously gave the nod to them. We were pretty much all embittered by that (even the guy I talked to from Aldershot seemed sympathetic,) but that was alleviated by watching OT cream Assumption (who has been giving us troubles all year,) in the finals to become the champs for the second year running. I remember feeling how futile it was to face OT. This guy on their team, Eric, is unstoppable; unbeatable on the buzzer, a hell of a guesser, and knowledge about just about everything. He used to drive Tim nuts. By the end Tim had to get used to thinking of him as a "worthy adversary," although it was plain that Eric was to Tim as Tim was originally to me - a pain in the ass. But one learns to except these things, no?

The one thing I really am a little sour about after Reach is the fact that although we faced Bateman, Leanne from Bateman did not show up. I dunno, I just felt like after 4 years of whatever, I'd at least like some closure. Now the last memory I'll ever have of her will be giving her a high five (okay, more like a regular five) as she was passing me, leaving Assuption high. It's a little saddening. Then again, that's one less loose end I need to worry about, closure or not.

By the time we got back, it was quarter after 3. Now, I had been told by Ana that we were rehearsing her paly after Drama Council or whatever, so I thought I'd drop in, and yet she was nowhere to be found. Still, I didn't get a good look - I just walked in, dropped my bag on the floor and was about to take a seat when Rosser, rather rudely, (his demeanor was offensively brusque,) told me "Bye," and shooed me out the door. The nerve! Well, no sooner had I got out than realized I'd left my bag in there; but shucks If I'm going back into a room where I'm so clearly not wanted, and besides, I still had to find out what was up with Ana. So I hung out outside the room, wnt out for a snack and came back, all within the course of their oh-so-clandestine meeting. So, I get back, camp out in front of the door with a bottle of Cherry Coke, and just sit in wait. Then someone comes out - one of the younger girls whose name I don't know. And she sees me and just laughs. And she turns around and informs the Drama Council "He's still out there!" So, hopefully out of guilt, Rosser has me come back in, even though the meeting was about over and I'd have to leave soon anyway. Well, sure enough, I noticed that Ana'd left a note on the blackboard telling her cast that she hadn't finished yet, or something, and the rehearsal is cancelled. Anyway, the "General" council was dismissed to let the "Executive" council play in private (I don't get all the privacy,) so Ryan, Cary and I just hung out in the hallway chillin. Eventually Doug came out too, because he had to work.

And that's pretty much my story. Came home and had pizza (which has hardly even sliced,) the went out and got movies. Incidentally, I did see Doug hard at work at Blockbuster, so we chatted a bit, I asked for some recommendations since I didn't know what was out that week, and he said nothing good. So we ended up with Dazed and Confused and a sorta old National Lampoon thing we have yet to watch.

On the way back, for all you drama kids reading this (are there any? Okay I doubt it,) I passed a car while corssing the street at Trafalgar and McCraney, and I see two girls through the windshield and I get this strange feeling of recognition with one. So I turn back and the passenger is half-waving to me, and I realize it's Liz, who I knew from Grade 10 (peer tutor or however it's called,) so not wanting to leave her hanging, I waved back, and got on my merry way. What fun.

Now, I have nothing to do all weekend by Read, Draw, maybe write (if the mood strikes me,) and catch up on whatever Writer's Craft I missed. Oh, and there's a family affair on the weekend, that ought to provide some blog-worthy anecdotes.

It's such Spring weather out there - I love it. And yet, all meteorological technology indicates that tomorrow will be the flash snowstorm of the century (or something.) Which scares the shit outta me. Winter's Last Gasp, I suppose. I can't wait until that shit is totally done with. I'm such a spring person it's not even funny (seriously, even with all the bitching and kvetching I'm about to do in the coming month - and it will be a-plenty - I'll at least always be able to find comfort in the beautiful weather I know is in store for the next 3 months. And even when it's hot and sticky, at least I won't get cabin fever.)

Well, that's that. It was a 2-and-a-half star day, on the Williams 4-star scale. Not bad, could've been much better. Keep on Rockin'
-Scottrates