K: Imagine the ground beneath your feet

Lately it looks like my blogging is confined mainly to the weekends and that special time midday on Wednesdays between classes when I ought to be studying but am easily distracted.

I guess this is fair. A lot of my life is repetitive, and endlessly recounting the story of how I got up and went to school or got up and went to work would be dumb. I could tell you over and over again how I'm not getting anything out of my classes this year and am desperate for it to end. I could tell you how tense I am that the holidays are coming up and suddenly I dread the HMV holiday season (having gotten so comfortable with the stable pace for the other 10 months of the year.)

This weekend was a pretty stupid one for me in good and bad ways. It began on Wednesday night when Cary and I went to a preview screening of Due Date. I asked him along when Eric confirmed he couldn't, because like a person who is not an idiot, he is working on school stuff.

The movie was pretty good, and I'll have a review up on CXPulp in time for its release. Cary and I hung out a bit afterward, talked over our new play and our old one. I was almost done with the new play at the time and as of writing this I am just at the phase where I could send it to him but still want to tweak it. In the course of our conversation, he invited me to his Law School Halloween party that Friday night, which was good because I had nothing else lined up and a streak of 3 really interesting Halloween parties in previous years. I was not looking forward to foregoing any sort of drunken partying.

My costume choice was intentionally awkward. I wanted to go as Scott Pilgrim, who pretty much just dresses like a normal guy (for the costume, I bought an authentic shirt from the movie which can now be worn as everyday apparel,) although my attempts to round out the costume with some wristbands came to naught. Do they still sell those? Kershaw had so many back in the day.

I also debated about whether it would be a good idea to bring a Guitar Hero guitar to round out the costume, since he's a bass player and video game enthusiast. I decided against it, since I'm not big on costume props, and the cord would've probably been unruly. With or without the toy guitar, people wouldn't have been able to look at me and say "You're Scott Pilgrim!" so the effort wouldn't been pointless. Also, I shaved my goatee for the costume, but if you were just meeting me for the first time, you wouldn't know that.

The last couple days of the week were spent working. Thursday, a normal shift. Friday, I was called in to receive with Jeff, a skill I learned the Monday before. We got so many boxes that Gus asked me and Jeff if we'd stay late, but since I was all in "I'm not even supposed to be here" mode, and desperate to get to Toronto, I declined. Jeff did too.

I do a lot for that store. I'm a part-time employee who works 30-hour weeks with an 80% course load at University. I'm losing my shit enough as it is. I need to assert myself, and leaving on time rather than staying late, to the detriment of the store, was my way of doing that. I needed to get home, eat pizza, then go to Toronto and drink.

I got to Cary's at approximately 8:30 after stopping at the Union Station LCBO for two tall boys of Stella. I arrived at his front door at exactly the same moment as his friend Katie, who is in med school. We went up to his apartment to pre-drink, have some laughs, not-play Extreme Jenga (that is where the blocks are slanty-shaped. Quite impractical, we never got it set up) and take pictures of me pretending to wail on Cary's guitar.

Cary in costume as a "Chattel Rancher," Katie as a Loofah (I was pleased to recognize it immediately, some had to guess and others didn't get it.) They compared notes on buying lengths of rope for their costumes. We walked over to Museum station and took the train up to Dupont for further pre-drinking at Cary's friend's house (also named Katie, she was dressed as Waldo.) I chit chatted with some of the law school kids, had the usual Halloween costume talks. I do love Halloween for that. People acting in character, guessing each other's costumes, complimenting each other, bonding... it's nice.

After a little while, we walked down to the Law building for the main party. It was actually quite a trek, but luckily my costume was amenable to a jacket and hoodie. Cary introduced Katie and me around, more costume talk, and a lot of attempts to talk over the music resulting in hoarse voices.

I ran into Anisah, who was dressed as Wonder Woman. Attempts to talk were quashed by the music. Then Katie met up with a girl she knew, who was apparently dating someone Cary knew. The girl had brought her sister along and a giant 5-way dance scene ensued. It was a disaster, at least at my end of the bargain, particularly when I grabbed the siste rand started swaying with her. Well she seemed to enjoy it, but awkwardness can be a powerful thing. Oh, and the sisters were black, which I know I shouldn't mention since I don't wanna make a racial project out of it -- I mean, it's the 21st century, you'd think I wouldn't feel more pressure to dance well with black girls than with white ones.

The party ended around 1 and we dispersed. The three of us went back to Cary's place, where Katie fell asleep on the futon, and as to the remainder of the sleeping arrangements I'd rather not divulge.

I got back to Oakville, a crick in my neck and bleary-eyed, after a bacon and egg breakfast from Cary. I went in to work at 2, as a favour to Chantelle and tried my best not to look or feel zombified. Jess actually asked me if I was gonna yak, to which I replied, "Jess, I'm 23. I do my yaking when I'm actually drunk."

More later, it's actually several days after Halloween but I didn't want to break the temporal thread of this entry. I'd better go do some reading.

Keep on rockin
-Scotto

L: A half hour and a half

I had half a post typed up, maybe even a full one. It was depressing. It was about trying to get some alone time -- like, to get away from society and family and the crowd and everything. That's something I want, but can't have. Maybe at home, if B. has gone out or I shut myself up in my room (seems an obvious answer but I rarely do that.) Just to conk out -- not for sleep but for meditative purposes -- and be alone.

It was not a lengthy post but I tried, in a rambling way, to get to the bottom of some of my anxieties. Some of them are way bigger than "what am I gonna do with my life?" Everybody has a grim outlook for the future, but the days keep rolling by and the changes are slow.

Maybe global warming is the ultimate natural selection. That's kind of a bummer, but only because we're more responsible for it than we would be for, say, and asteroid killing everything. I used to be downright terrified of such an event, probably because it was all the rage in the late 90's, from the famous Simpsons episode Bart's Comet to the Bruce Willis movie (or the Elijah Wood movie.) This nervousness has followed me to adulthood (if I'm an adult) but transferred to other, more au courant apocalypse scenarios, since nothing ranks significantly on the Torino Scale lately. But mention global warming and watch me get fidgety.

In a small number of paragraphs, I have gotten far from my original point, which is good since I didn't want to be there anyway. My main point is that I'd like a few moments in the near future to be able to gather my thoughts and be by myself. Preferably not in a train or in class.

This is not my favourite entry ever. It's rather dire, and may serve to transfer some of my own anxieties onto my readers, even though getting it out there has at least made me feel a bit better. We're all stuck on this planet and I'd like to do what I can to take better care of it. I'd rather not have the rest of society sounding the panic alarm in my ear for the rest of my life. But such is the condition of the 21st century.

So you might think from this writing that I'm depressed. There must be a sort of hundred-yard stare in my recent interactions with people, co-workers and friends can often see it. Like I said, it's mainly just a need to get back to me.

But all I can do right now is keep on rockin'
-Scotto

M: Every sound on Earth

It's nearly midnight on Sunday night and I'm sitting on the computer thinking of friends.

Something hit me in the middle of this week, drudging back up old anxieties. In these apocalyptic-seeming times, it can be hard to keep your shit. Wednesday was rough. Makes me regret ever missing school. Here at the end, it feels like dropping out and moping around the house -- only breaking to go to work and maybe occasionally, if I'm lucky, do a little writing -- is the only answer. I wouldn't be happy then either, still longing for that missing something, and in that case owing shitloads of money for an education I did not even complete. I can't over-dramatize it, though. Seems like lately, hardly a week goes by where I don't obsess over the sordid state of my life and let it ruin an entire day. I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I'm doing what I can.

So on Wednesday, when I was feeling low, I went and saw Vasa. I have more or less a standing agreement to hang out with her on Wednesday afternoons when neither of us are in classes, but it was only the second time I'd been over. Admittedly, our interactions have gotten less active lately, as she's mainly holed up in her room and I join her and we talk about school and life and she brings me up to speed on her life, also known as my new favourite show. (It had a really good season premiere, but the follow-up wasn't as notable.)

A little later, I got a message from Joe. I mostly only see him when he has a show on, but in addition to seeking cover suggestions, he reached out for a hangout. The cover thing was a cool idea of his to kick himself out of his own creative rut -- asking friends like me to suggest a few different songs for him to cover, and he'd pick one of each person's suggestions. I gave him a few varied selections, including The Coral's Liezah, Dark End of the Street (sending him the Richard and Linda Thompson version,) Take Me To the River (citing both Talking Heads and Al Green), Joel Plaskett's Through & Through & Through (unrealistic, I suppose, for a mere acoustic arrangement) and the song of mine he ultimately picked, David Gray's Babylon. It's a nice song, which often comforts me when I'm anxious or upset (let go your heart, let go your head, and feel it now.) Like Overkill by Colin Hay, it's one of those songs whose outright simplicity and sweetness is a pure virtue. It wasn't all that surprising to see Joe pick it, given how comfortably it sits in his style.

Anywayzx, in addition to the cover request, he wanted to see if a hangout was possible, and of course it was. We ended up meeting up on Saturday, which was convenient as Manda was busy with her puppy (or so I assume, she never clarified but that's usually what's going on with her.) Imagine what's going to happen if she ever procreates. I'll have to give up on ever seeing her! Kidding, they allow babies at the mall, although sometimes I think they shouldn't.

Joe and I sat around, talking about our attempts to make our way in the world, his music, my writing. Journalism. Jobs. He brought along some resumes, since part of the premise of our hangout was that he wouldn't mind coming to HMV to work as a holiday temp. I told him I'd do what I could to make that happen, since he'd be as good as anyone else in the role, and I'd like to be able to work with a friend. So I brought him down to the store and introduced him to Karen. Karen noted we'd taken on probably all the temps we needed, but I said, "Well, just in case." She seemed happy to at least entertain the notion that she might eventually hire him, although I think none of us is necessarily counting on it. He also handed a resume in at EB Games, where we later wandered.

We had some good talks, it was nice to catch up, to share points of view, to commiserate.

Lately, I'm dragging. I'm unengaged. There are things I am aware of myself not doing but can't bring myself to correct. Papers coming due, readings I don't do. Wednesday, as I was having a meltdown inside, it was hard to be moved by my TA when he kinda sniped at us for being unengaged. He claimed that most of the anonymous feedback he got, when he asked us for it a few weeks back, said that things were fine. But we were all very quiet and unresponsive. I can't be sure, but I think I wrote something on my feedback sheet saying he needed to do a better job guiding conversations. I don't think he gets it. I don't think he's a good TA. Nice guy, not a good TA. Last year I had 4 classes, none with TA's, I was happy, I was engaged. This year I have three TA's, and I would rate them as bad, okay, and quite all right (Film, US Studies, Anthro.) My Anthro TA knows her stuff, and she runs the classroom well, although it always seems to be disconnected from the lecture, this is not her doing. For her part, she's peppy and doesn't get too visibly annoyed with the guy in class who is always bugging about shit.

The US Studies TA is inconsistent. Maybe that's just because I am inconsistently engaged in class. This week we had a guest lecture from Rob King, and I was happy about that. The TA, like most TA's (in the soft sciences and non-sciences) often seems nonplussed. The discussions are always lively.

It's rare that I've ever looked at a TA I had and thought "What a great job he's doing!" In second year, there were a couple of film TA's who seemed to get it. They don't have enviable jobs. They have to mediate between the professor and the student. They're students themselves. Often, the students are like me, uninterested in discussion, unsure what to talk about or ask about.

It can't be easy to TA for film theory. I don't want to be there and I suspect many classmates agree. The readings are onerous, the films weighty. The material is so abstract. It's everything I hate, and I just kinda got trapped into it and by the time I realized what the deal was, it was too late to back out and still graduate. If I drop it, I am still technically a full-time student (with a shitload more free time) but I have to make it up with SOMETHING next year. I haven't ruled this out, but still: wurrrgh.

We all have problems. I gave myself a Charlie Horse Saturday night that lasts right up to the present moment. It was hard getting to sleep or getting up the next morning. Eff emm ell.

The good thing about the weekend has been that I got some writing done, blasting through a bad patch of writer's block. I just couldn't reconcile how to launch from one thing to the other in this script, and though I may not utterly love what I ended up with, just getting it out on paper is half the battle. On that note, I think I'll take a look at it and see what more I can do.

Or maybe just load the dishwasher and make a sandwich for tomorrow. What more can be done? It's after 1:30.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

N: We all have hoodies

The remnants of a post marked October 14, 2010, 1:17 AM:

This past Saturday night, I saw many of the old High School faces for Thanksgiving. I didn't have to feel guilty about not going to North Bay, because Dad didn't go anyway because of Jon's wedding. And I wouldn't have felt guilty anyway, because I made a pledge to myself that the last time we saw Granddad would be the last time I went there under normal circumstances.

But that's getting all circuitous. I had my most relaxing weekend in months following a rather hectic week. School is tough lately because it's very hard to focus on anything when you're constantly thinking "I don't want to be here at all." It isn't that I don't want to be at school, it's that I'm constantly second-guessing my ability to withstand the courses I have inflicted on myself. But I haven't got much choice in the matter, especially at this late date. What's done is done.

I must've gotten distracted. I find myself balancing my to-do list very haphazardly lately. Blogging is an obvious choice to fall by the wayside. Last night (Saturday night) would've been a decent choice as I did not go out and there was nothing on TV, but alas, Minesweeper called.

I nearly just opened a beer, but I don't want to distract myself with a buzz that'll keep me up but also divide my attention. Plus I'm running low. Tonight I've been listening to She & Him Vol 2, which I got from the recently-changed listening posts at work (very patiently so that I didn't have to pay for it) which led me to the Monkees anthology, which always gets me to thinking about that time around Christmas 2000, when I first got it, and time seemed to take forever to pass, and I was learning all these amazing songs I'd never heard. Seems like I bring out the Anthology about 3 or 4 times a year. Sad, as it used to be well-represented on my iPod in the days before I had rebuilt my mp3 collection and things needed to be cut. But even now that I have nearly four times the size to play with, it feels like these tunes are best kept for reflective occasions when I feel like mentally sending myself back to the living room at River Oaks Blvd and Grade 8.

So Thanksgiving. Yes. It was a nice casual evening of the WOSS class of 2005, and a few from 2007 (Chris, Adam, Cassie, Laura,) sitting around talking shit over. Catching up with the usual conversations, which are starting to take on new permutations now that so many of us (myself not included) have moved on past school and into the realm of real work. Terrifying. Cary summed school up as "the comfort of the womb." He spent a year outside it and is glad to be back. Learning law. What a cop out.

I'm glad that these get-togethers are not just shoddy, fairly-depressing remembrances of past times, although there's some of that. We're all current people, with opinions and feelings about our present lives. Kate talks about her work as a music teacher. I trade journalism opinions with Bryan Myers. CB recounts his latest injuries. The occasional flashback to Earnest of 12 Angry Men occurs, but it's mostly organic. One of the liveliest conversations we had was on the nature of chips. Vanessa had brought plain ruffled chips, wanting something people wouldn't complain about. I suggested probably the most preferable, generic choice would be Tostitos Rounds (not scoops) with salsa. She countered back, what kind of salsa? Mild, medium, hot? I admit, it got controversial as Cary advocated for at least medium, and I personally don't think people will care as long as they've got some sauce on their chip. It's all about texture. This conversation, I may reiterate, was quite impassioned. There was also a contingent for All Dressed Chips.

The night settled down and we were requested by Linda (who of course was only too happy to host us with veggies and melons and brie and other stuff.) to move downstairs. It quieted down, and then people started to file out, and I stuck behind with Cary to finish my drink and watch an episode of Boston legal, and briefly fall asleep on his couch.

It was a nice weekend. Sunday was a bit hectic as I was working with Chantelle and Dana and we had to set up new releases for Tuesday due to the long weekend. I suspect this is part of the reason our conversion suffered. I don't want to believe it had anything to do with us switching the music out (gasp!) for a 90's mix that people actually seemed to dig. Definitely gave the store a different feel.

Monday, the family came over. Cam was very invested in his DS, so we played Mario Kart. He only gets to play it on weekends, which is to my advantage. They were also pushing magazine subscriptions. Man, I may have done the almonds and the nanaimo bars and whatever else, but at least people can eat those. Magazines? Fine, give me Toronto Life. Later in the evening, Cam got more into a playing mood and had us play babysitter, which he always insists on reconstructing previously enjoyable play sessions. This is the type of behaviour Manda described as "Weird and serial-killery." Thanks, Manda. I as going to say "douchey," but I guess it's inappropriate for whatever reason to refer to something your 7-year-old cousin does as that. I've said this any number of times: I can't wait until those kids are awkward teens and they prefer to avoid us.

The week was therefore abbreviated. I found out I did rather well on my US Assignments. I can feel pretty at ease with myself knowing that, since if I do badly in other classes I can make it up next semester but here I've got only 'till December. The precis I felt I did well on, and was counting on it as justification for skipping class (repeatedly) to do. Apart from a few totally-accurate criticisms, it landed somewhere in the 80's. The quiz, which was only 10 questions, True/False and Multiple Choice, I got 8/10, which is remarkable considering that maybe half of my correct answers were informed ones. The rest were educated guesses. The one "write a sentence" question was a definition of "Epistemology," which was crossover from my theory class. I don't even know if we really went over it in this class. It seems like we didn't, since like 3 people, myself included, got it.

The only other big thing that happened this week was that I touched some bones in my anthropology class. Uh, that sounds dirty. What I mean is, my TA gave us all bones. No, wait.

Skeletons. Yes. we learned about skeletons, and assembled one on a table. Partially. Very vaguely. We had gotten a stern warning last week that we were to treat the bones with respect. I couldn't resist snarking, but I like to think I wasn't putting the bones in any danger or really misbehaving. They take their bones very seriously, as well they should.

We were in a group, I got to interact with others, which is nice. Nicest was the fact that the dude in that class we don't like wasn't in our group. He's always asking questions and getting belligerent about minor details. Before class, one girl asked if we could share a textbook, so she was sitting next to me and passed me a note in reference to the guy's curious habit of referring to our TA as "Professor."

Meeting people was actually the theme of the week. For the last few weeks in English Lit, I've been sitting behind these two girls who seemed pretty cool, but I wasn't going to go creeping my way into their conversation. I did manage to get a comment toward them here and there, but that happens anyway. Seeing these girls, and feeling my inability to break the ice, was actually the catalyst for a miniature self-hating rant the other week about how I'll probably never meet anyone new ever again and I'm basically screwed.

That's at least partly still true, but this week we had an in-class writing assignment (at which I fucking sucked, which is sad because it was on the one piece I really gave a damn about so far, the "I know you all" speech from 1 Henry IV.) One of the girls, who has a massive main of braids, was sitting in my row behind her friend. I sat two seats over from her and we mutually used to middle desk for our stuff. A few comments, comparing notes, etc later, and I've made their acquaintances and even walked with one to the subway. It was a minor win, and of course it feels dorky to go to lengths to recount it here (when doesn't it?) but I needed it. Just to go for it.

This weekend was relatively quiet compared to other recent ones. I had coffee with Manda for the first time in seemingly years, but in reality just weeks. I broke a serious bout of writer's block on my play. The deadline for that is coming soon. Manda was very excited for some revelations she had about her book project, which at one point was OUR book project, but I ceded it to her when she was more interested than I was.

Really, it doesn't fit into my intended oeuvre. And she has many ideas that don't jive with what I would've done, but are good in their own right. She has a vision and it's better I let her cultivate that.

We talked retail, we talked weddings (and whether I ever expected to go to one again.) Etc etc.

I'm being underbooked. Me with my keys and nowhere to use 'em. I'll probably put in some more time at Dorval before they close up.

I'd love to sit around pontificating about the everythnigness of it all and give hints as to my emotional/mental state (surprisingly ok) but it's late and I really just wanted to get this all out there. Cheers.

Keep on rockin
-Scotto

O: In constant contact

It isn't that my life has rapidly changed in a short span of time, but it is recently that the effects of a small number of subtle changes have been felt.

I used to be able to vent myself to a certain number of people on a fairly regular basis. I was having coffee with Amanda every week, I could always count of Taylor to show up on MSN to distract me from my life. Circumstances have kept me from hanging out with Amanda on a consistent basis for the past few months. Taylor's been barred from the internet except in rare extenuating circumstances. When I'm bummed, I have nobody but SWP to hear me out.

This past Wednesday, in British Literature, I came to the conclusion that it's now pretty unlikely I'll ever meet "the one." I hate to sound melodramatic, but it seems pretty likely I'll die alone, and unloved, sooner than later. I've been at U of T for three years now, have made no headway in finding a girl I really like. Never meet people at work, just customers in transience and girls I don't wanna get involved with for various reasons. I'm not good at meeting people, and when I do, I don't capitalize. I'm stuck in my own head and I can't compromise and make it work in those rare cases where it does seem like I'm getting on with a girl. I suck.

Of course, I can't let any of this discourage me.

I've been hating on myself a lot lately. It doesn't feel good but it's hard to resist the urge because I am alone with my thoughts so damn much of the time. I've been doing this to myself for years and it's worse now that I'm trying to be all these things, employee, student, writer, person. I complain a lot. I am not happy about it, but it is the way it is, and can't be helped. But when it's time to deal with others, I do my best to put my shit away.

So this is the week that was.

Monday I skipped class to work on my USA Response Paper that didn't even get done. Not because I slacked. In fact, I went over my chosen article with a fine tooth come to get as much out of it and make notes so that I could do it more effectively. It's just that that took so long that by the time I was done the article it was about time to go to work. It was my first shift closing as keyholder and I was really psyched for getting to be in charge for a few hours, even if it involved doing new releases. The only other people scheduled were Jeff and Ryann, a new girl who is transitioning over from Dorval when they close at the end of the month. I met her briefly at the end of my shift and we really seemed to get on well. On the Monday, Karen ended up staying nearly until close just to finish up some bullshit stocking in preparation for a corporate visit, which really harshed my mood, because I had no idea when she'd be gone and I don't like to not know things like that.

In the end, though new releases took a bit longer than usual, we got them done in good time. Ryann's cool, and in fact reminds me a lot of Alyssa when I first met her. Knowledgeable about very unexpected stuff, and with a good sense of humour.

The week continued to be hectic. There was a quiz in US Studies that I did badly on. I skipped film AGAIN to finish that paper, which I was not happy to do. Then learned a lot of stuff about DNA in Anthropology, which sounded very familiar from Grade 9 Science. More sophisticated, but familiar.

Wednesday was a slog. It was particularly bad because I'd packed my Brit Lit anthology in my backpack, expecting to have time to go over it, and failed to realize that the reading was an online reading this week. So not only was I sore, but uninformed for the lecture. I very nearly left at the break, but decided I'd skipped out a bit too much this week.

Thursday I opened the store for the first time. Not as epic as I'd imagined. some paperwork, some solitude, then some standing around trying to figure out stuff for others to do. It was only me and Chantelle in, we played Gus and Karen, as those two were off doing respective things. The day breezed by. Then today Chantelle and I opened again and it was all very routine. Since that's the usual routine on Fridays, with Karen coming in at 1, they're usually pretty good.

But anyway, this whole scene is starting to wear on me, and I need to make time to write this weekend, or it might just never happen. Amidst all family obligations and everything.

Herp derp derp.

Keep on rockin
-Scott

P: Time slows down where she is

It was an exceptionally eventful weekend and indeed the last week and the current week are all starting to run together in a nosebleed-inducing mindfuck of mental exhaustion. Or something.

Friday, I got the news I had sort of been anticipating for a while now, that I was to become a keyholder at HMV. It's not at all surprising, although part of me suspected the circumstances would never come up that it was needed.

I will have worked there for a year in a couple weeks. I'm better at it now than I was then, as is the case when you do the same thing for a while and learn better ways. I am still not sure I'm worthy of the responsibility that goes along with a set of keys. Or whether it's a good idea in general for me to have that on my shoulders, with my school and everything. But all these abstract musings about it are pointless now, since it's happening. It's needed.

With Andrea still off at Dorval (and eager to get back) and Gus going on vacation this week, Karen and Chantelle can't handle all the key responsibilities. So Saturday morning, I came in early and was trained how to do the paperwork. It's not that complicated, it's just a lot of stuff to keep straight in my head. I was feeling stressed Saturday because I was also taking care of some customer returns, which didn't always go smoothly. But I'm learning.

Saturday night, right after work, Dad, Eric and I went out to Hamilton to meet with the Ouimettes for dinner in celebration of Jon's upcoming wedding, to which I was not invited. We went to Turtle Jack's, had dinner, Dad went over the usual stupid embarrassing story he always runs through when talking to anybody on the topic of me.

We then went over to a Go Karting place, which is something that has been in the works for a while. We had to wait a while, during which time Eric and I played a generic shooter in their arcade, and observed their wonderfully out-dated jukebox selection, which included most of the first 7 Big Shiny Tunes, MuchDance CDs from the same era, as well as generic compilations, best-ofs by whichever artists (including Aerosmith's Big Ones, a by-now obsolete collection of their Geffen years,) and of course Much Dance Mix '95, which included the Macarena, Saturday Night by Whigfield and What Is Love by Haddaway, and was a must for ever grade 3 in my year.

I mean come on, it had the fucking Macarena!

We eventually got down to business when Crystal and her husband Andy showed up. We did a test-run, during which I went gingerly around the corners and let everyone pass me. At our first stop, I neglected to brake and rear-ended Eric (who then rear-ended dad. Whoops.) The 7 of us (me, Eric, Dad, Jon, Andy, Henry, and Jon's future father in law Matt) did 20 laps on the first two races. I came in 5th both times. In the first race, I was taking a turn pretty wide and ended up fish-tailing. Initially, I thought it was my own fault so I went more gingerly afterward, but then I found out it was because Henry had bumped me, so I got a little less timid in the next race. The others -- aside from me, dad and Eric -- were pretty aggressive since they were more experienced. Eric came in last because he just didn't have the heart to cut anyone off, and Dad came in 6th probably, in his own words, due to being the heaviest. The last go-round was most laps in 12 minutes. I got to start in the front and ended coming in second due to some incredibly reckless, opportunistic driving that caused me to throw my shoulder out on a few nasty turns. I was sore the next day. Man, keeping that pedal down when your legs ain't long is tough!

The next night, after work, was dad's birthday and I was finally able to relax after a taxing four days. Today I skipped class to work on a paper. It's still not done but the research is in place and it shouldn't be too-too hard for me to finish on time. Well anyway I'm boned and I probably could have worked harder to make it work but this is how it worked out.

...I guess that's my way of saying I have to go to work soon. I'm closing tonight (much easier than opening) and then opening on Thursday. A few weeks ago, Cary asked me what was most likely, me getting married, me getting a girl pregnant, or me being made the manager of an HMV. I still think all three are entirely unlikely, but I guess we're getting a bit closer to that last one.

And I hope to stay at this distance, or maybe even backtrack, for a long while.

Keep on rockin
-Scotto