Yawn

America's Next Top Model marathons; obsessing over Allison Harvard. Common Application waiting to be done. My sailor hat needs steaming. There's so many empty waterbottles scattered around my room. It's 2:13 but it feels like 5 and I need a nap but I have a philosophy paper and a free response journal due tomorrow. You would think that in my fourth year of high school I would know not to wait until last minute to do things.

I'm spent and I need a warm blanket and a fluffy pillow and a charged iPod. God knows this is an awful blog entry. I felt like writing but as I write more I'm getting progressively more and more tired.

Screw this, I'm taking my contacts out.

What I Did for Love.

Eric, what are you doing?

You KNOW you should be doing those 20 dialectical journal entries and the essay that are due on Thursday. You KNOW you should be getting ready for your last first day of school. You KNOW that writing in this blog will not help you at all to prepare for your senior year.

But yet you keep on writing.

Well, here I am world. What a crazy life I'm living.

I don't know what I actually want to talk about. I just know that I want to talk. I've said too many goodbyes,  done too much calculus, eaten too many Cheetohs to keep myself quiet.

It's so strange to say that tomorrow's the first day of senior year.

Firstly, "the first day." This summer was great. 2012 has treated me very well and this summer is no different. Between camp, driving, Bright Lights, vacations, I really enjoyed myself. The only thing I would have changed was choosing to start all my schoolwork yesterday. But I won't forget, can't regret, what I did for love.

It's like YOLO for theater people.

I can't believe that school starts tomorrow. They say after 21 days of something, it becomes routine. Summer is all too much a routine. Sure, I'll get back in the swing of things, but I just can't imagine myself in a hallway right now, in a triangular desk, writing essays and carrying books.

Secondly, "senior year."

Christ.

Who would have thought I would ever be a senior? Not that I'm worried about it, not that I'm scared of it, I'm just surprised by it. I never thought I would be the oldest of anything. I've always been the youngest. The youngest sibling, youngest of my neighborhood gang, youngest at the school. Now I'm a senior. The oldest. I'm just so not used to it at all.

But they say after 21 days, it becomes routine.

We'll get used to this. Being older. We're always getting older, after all.

I did it.

I passed my driving test today.

I wasn't nervous. I wouldn't let myself be nervous. I tried convincing myself I'm ready, I can do this. I was doubtful. Not nervous.

The receptionist told me to wait downstairs for car number four. I hastily read last-minute parking tips on my phone while waiting as the minutes stretched longer and longer. I spotted number four in the parking lot as a girl my age had gotten out. Her mother, who had been waiting for her outside, anxiously called if she passed. The girl confirmed. She said that the instructor was ready for me, and that it was his birthday today.

This has to be a good sign. 


The man was friendlier that I had imagined him. I wished him a happy birthday. "Word gets around doesn't it?"

I had already driven on the course beforehand. It's easy. The car's brake took a little getting used to and the roads were just a little wet, but I wouldn't let this intimidate me.

I drove, cautiously and attentively, but making sure I didn't go below the speed limit. I've been screamed at to accelerate too many times to let that be my downfall.

I waited at a light to turn left. Across from me was a car with its right blinker on, turning the same way I was. I waited for the car to turn. It was his right away after all. The instructor said "Are you paying attention?" Surely I was. "To the light?" I looked up, realizing that it had been a few precious seconds since I actually looked up, as I was concentrating on the other car. I had a green turn arrow. The other car had to have had a red arrow.

I thought, oh no, please don't let that fail me. But there was still a part inside of me that knew that it wouldn't have. It shouldn't have. I made sure to drive a perfect I could to make up for it.

There was also a wave of confidence that hit me. The hardest part was over. Getting out on the road is tough in the first place, but hat intersection is the most difficult part on this course. But I passed it. Just drive, Eric.

And I did. Parking was stressful as parking will always be, but after I botched backing in on the right, I was able to fix it so that my parking job was good. Good enough.

We pulled over at the end of the course. I'm done. The instructor said the one thing I needed to hear. "Good job."

I passed.

As I rode the elevator up back to All Star's office, I was a mix of exhilaration and calm and confidence and fulfillment and peace.

This is for the driving instructor who told me I was going to fail. This is for the father who gave me nothing but a negative attitude and flawed driving techniques. This is for the brother that was done giving me rides. This is for the kid whose confidence was broken. This is for me.

My 1999 Maxima sits in the driveway in anticipation. I don't get my physical license until Tuesday, plus I have to get insured, but that doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things.

I'm ready to go. I'm ready to get in a car, alone, and drive. Drive without scrutiny in my ear. Drive where I want to go, and how I want to get there. I'm ready to do this by myself.

I'm ready to grow up.

I got my driver's license.

I'm free.

He had Meth Arms.

Alright, here's the thing.

Bright Lights closed. I'm finished with road lessons. I've gone on vacation and came back.

I have some downtime.

I'm sort of at a loss for words. I don't know what to talk about. I'm grasping at straws here. I'm sure there's plenty of things in my life that could make for an interesting story. But I don't want to tell a story. I want to have a discussion. A present-tense, unedited discussion.

There's still so much I still have to do this summer. I've only read 100 pages out of the 5 pieces I have to read for AP Lit. I haven't even touched the actual work I have for AP French and Calc. As much as it irritates me that I have so much work that I have to do, my laziness inexplicably multiplies and none of it gets done. It's a vicious cycle.

My driving test is on Thursday. I was confident. I was confident. Up until my last road lesson. The instructor started off fine, relaxed even. I felt in control of this car. Comfortable. Something I hadn't felt while driving yet. But the man, the 5 foot, meth-armed, peanut-shaped-headed man progressively got more and more, I don't know... Douchey. He pointed out every little mistake I made. I understand that it's his job to prepare me for my test, but when the test is in five days, telling me that I'm going to fail it at this point is not preparing me at all. Whenever he criticized me on my driving, it made me lose focus, it made me get too wrapped up in my thoughts to really concentrate on the road underneath me. Which led to more mistakes. Which led to more criticism. This is another one of those vicious cycles I was talking about.

I can't fail my test. I start camp the week after, where I'll be driving to and from every day for three weeks. I've already driven on the course, it's not difficult. It's all comfortable speeds of 25 miles per hour, in wide lanes. I just need to feel confident in my ability again. And soon.

I'll get there.

Here I am world.

Let it be known: I am not dead. 

Just busy.

A slippery slope.

OK KIDS. So I was busy today: getting my haircut, goin g to BJs, and spending hours at Becca's. I'm sorry. But I will update tomorrow if I find time (I have a seven hour rehearsal for Bright Lights.) but I DO have topics to cover so it will be INTERESTIG. Remind me never to try to blog from an iPhone.