All right, Craig, the super-planner-guy he is, crunches his own numbers. He acquires us a limousine for grad, and all that other stuff.
. . . there's other stuff too, though. Lucky for me, I don't need to get a tux for myself, as my wonderful grandmother was able to alter my uncle's old wedding tux for me (wow, I'm not entirely short anymore!). Of course, I still don't have the actual frilly tuxedo-shirt-thing or a bow tie, but I'm sure I can acquire those some time.
Let's see . . . what else about grad . . . . . ah yes, the table seating . . . . . sad to say, but I "pulled an Ed" on my people on this one (yeah, I know, that's an archaic expression . . . . .). We were in the line-up for dinner-dance tickets, and Craig (again, the planner) had two cards for two tables. Needless to say, I WAS on one of them, but I kept thinking, "crap, Corin's got people too!" Well, I did MORE number crunching and whatnot, and finally I concluded that it wasn't gonna work - I told Craig to take my name off the card. In the long run, I still feel my choice was for the best, and besides, it was just one night -
I see those guys all the time, right? But regardless, the whole ordeal really put Pete in a pretty bad mood; he wasn't happy about my selling out.
You know what, though? Really, I'm starting to get a little annoyed with that guy. I mean, I'm finding it really doesn't take much to put him over nowadays. I just really remember he used to be made of sterner stuff (like in the olden days, when I wasn't quite as emotionally durable as I am now). In lots of things, too - parties, hallway lunches . . . hell, even board games! But hell, I've got better things to worry about right now, right?
Let's see, what else, what else . . . . . oh yeah! My mother's giving me an ultimatum: get a job, or retake math in summer school! Now, I'm not sure if she's seriously going to follow through with it or not, but that's got me spooked. Sure, I wouldn't mind having a job - it's the finding part that's got me! It's like . . . lots of will, but no drive. If you don't know what that feels like, I'll just save you the trouble - it sucks.
And look at me now (hmm . . . okay,
pretend you can see me now). I'm thinking about all this as I stare at the idiot box, stretched out across the big green couch. There isn't anything good on right now! I just . . . have no drive to do anything else. All I have is the power to move my thumb across the remote's buttons . . . . .
"Hey, Ernie, when are you going to stop watching all that junk and start studying for your provincials?" my mother asks me from the kitchen.
"Soon," I said back.
"Well are you ready for them yet?" she then asks.
"No, not yet," I answer back.
"How about looking for a job?"
"No . . ."
"Graduation? Have you figured all that out yet?"
"Not yet . . ."
"Well gosh Ernest, what are you waiting for?"
"I don't know!" I felt kinda bad. I know I was probably trying to look all cool and calm on the outside, but . . . well, ya know.
Well, my mother muttered something about my being crazy, and returned to cooking dinner.
