Chapter 19: Keep no cakes

Been updating Redneck Comics all day. Been very busy. Still no work. Must keep from going insane.

But did you ever hav eone of those days that didn't turn out quite like you imagined when you got up? I'm not saying everyone has their day mapped out when they wake up every day, but, you know, you wake up and think, "Ugh, another day of... etc." I'm like that a lot, given my circumstances.

Yesterday morning, monday, the craziness of the weekend supposedly behind me, I awoke groggily from sleep at around 6. I tossed and turned and tried to reclaim my sleep, but I could not, for a few reasons. One was that the bug of inspiration had seized me and was growing in my mind. Another was that I had gotten somewhat sick and now had to go to the toilet. Thirdly, once I returned, I had crossed the threshhold of waking. So, many hours before I usually do, I got up and went for a walk, which is generally what I do in the mornings.

In my head I wove together a little story I'd been toying with, so that it was now virtually complete, or at least gone from intangible to "Okay this is how it goes." I had to write it down, and had indeed planned to spend the morning writing it. But priorities came in, and I decided to finish drawing the latest comic for Redneck after about a year of development (our longest hiatus, not coincidentally, since we said we would after Adventures of Sewerman #10.) So that will be appearing online before the end of June, I imagine (I'm working with different software now, since I changed my computer, but it shouldn't have mcu hof an effect.)

After that, Brando comes out to talk about stuff. He was set to go to RAW that night in Toronto with his friend Graeme, but Graeme's wife kinda... went into labour. So there was a free ticket up, and since there were three, Graeme's friend didn't want to go either. so there were two tickets available. And over the course of the day, it became known that the tickets would be all taken care of, no worries about pay, if Eric and I wanted them. So we changed our night from sitting on our asses to going to Toronto and seeing wrestling.

But the real, real big news came mid-afternoon after I got in from a bike ride. I've been riding my bike a lot, it gives me time to listen to my iPod, and also get away from the people I live with. I usually do it in the afternoons, after lunch and watching Degrassi: TNG. So sometimes I come back and there's mail for me. Not often, mind you, and mostly it'd be a bank statement or OSAP stuff, but in this case, it was a large white envelope clearly labelled, "University of Toronto."

For months now, people have been asking. "Heard anything? Any idea what you're doing next year? Tell us what the future is, Scotto!" And I didn't know. I had no clue. In reality the plan had been to fall out of society and bound, or something, until I basically decided, okay, let's apply for University, get myself a Bachelor's or something, and occupy my time for another few years. And basically, yesterday, the word came in... I'm fucked. Suddenly, I have a future to worry about, and it's going to take place at University.

I loved Sheridan, but I'm so much younger than most of my fellow Journalism people that I really had no choice but to continue my education. The benefit of this is that I can get transfer credits and maybe shortcut through a year or so. As far as living arrangements... well, we'll see about that. But...

Pressing matters for yesterday evening. After the round of "Hey guess what?" family phone calls, and the obligitory allusion on Facebook, we three had to head out to the GO station, where we very promptly missed the train into Union and had to sit around for 40 minutes.

On the train, all around us were fellow RAW-goers talking up the show and the history they knew. I find it hard to be in proximity when people talk wrestling, because I always want to jump in, but doing so would not make me feel cool. So I just bite my lip and shrug. On with the evening.

We arrived at Union with plenty of time, but I learned a little something... rush hour at Union Station is not fun, no sir. and I'd have to say that that very night would serve as my best example of why I should not live at home and commute.

The show itself was very little to write home about. We had excellent seats facing the entrance in the lower level, there was a pretty vocal crowd and some good wrestling. Of course, after the UWA show on Friday, there's a noticeable difference not only in the in-ring work, but the crowd psychology as far as pure wrestling and sports entertainment.

Very tiredly, we grabbed a little nosh at Union (we had also previously eaten there,) and then boarded the train home with about 4000 other wrestling fans.

Today, I finally wrote out that thing that was bugging me all morning yesterday, and more of the usual. There's a cliche about my generation, that we emerge only every so often to look for work, and if we don't see it coming down the road, we go back to hide. That's not true for most people, although it's a stereotype I rather comfortably inhabit. It's not that I lack enthusiasm, it's that there's nothing to get enthusiasm about. I will not, not, not do food service. My options aren't exactly unlimited by this, as well as factors like geography. But I won't blame it on the world, because hey, it's me, it truly is, and I accept that and am trying to help it. Sometimes, the world don't want us to succeed. Then again, I have at least a few years of future on me, so there we go.

Pass me the vial and cross your fingers that it don't take time...

In other words, keep on rockin
-Scott