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.

I'm a strong bitch but I'm a weak bitch.

And today is yet another usual summer day.

This is going to be a great summer. Endless pizza, America's Next Top Model marathons, this is what summer is to Eric Gomez. I can't pretend I'm going to have this Phineas-and-Ferb-crazy-adventurous summer vacation. Although I may have understated how busy of a summer it will be. Road lessons, vacations, Bright Lights, camp, my driving test (holy God!)  all while fitting in voice lessons where I can and seeing friends in the breaks I'm giving myself.

But there will be about three weeks of nothing. And this is when my diet will turn to pizza and freeze pops. This is when I inevitably fall asleep at 2 AM, wake up at 12 PM, hate myself for wasting my day but also love sleeping in. This is when I sing in my dingy basement even though it makes no difference whether I sing in my room or underground, my brother will still hear me. This is when I will pretend to shop for clothes online even though I know full and well I can't afford it.

This is when the blog posts get shorter; when I have nothing worthy of talking about to... talk about.

Tomorrow, I'll be better. I promise.

Because EVERYONE loves detail.

I told you I'd be back.

First, I just wanted to point out, Woodland has its own Wikipedia page. Like, who took out the time to write a page about our school? Who wants to have that kind of time?

Moving on. So, it's my second day of summer vacation. I should start reading the 4 books for AP Lit that I haven't actually bought yet, or listen to the French broadcasts for AP French, which God knows why I'm even continuing this language when I haven't learned anything since Mrs. Hiscox, or I should start the Calculus packet, which seems the least daunting of the three. But, no, I'm here. Typing away on the keyboard missing the X button, The Price is Right playing in the background, waiting for life to begin.

There's so much I want to tell you. There's so much I neglected to talk about in the past eight months.

In the fall our school did a production of Stagedoor. In the spring we did Once on This Island. We received 10 Halo award nominations, and we won Best Specialty Ensemble in a Musical, (that's me guys that's ME!)

Tech week is rapidly approaching for Bright Lights; which seems much more hectic than last year. We've had maybe a month of rehearsals and our director just left to do a show in the Adirondacks and there's so many little kids and ugh. But it's ok. It'll all be ok.

Graduation was yesterday. And now I can talk about it in detail. Because everyone loves detail.

It was hot. Hot. The temperature was in the high 90s, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the courtyard was flooded with sunlight. The only shadows to be found were the ones casted from the spectators.  But the heat was bearable. I survived. I survived.


The speeches ranged from the obligatory to the unexpected, to the originally-observational-and-witty-until-everyone-started-incorporating-YOLO-into-their-speech speeches. Chamber choir suffered from my ex-boyfriend's proximity to the microphone, who sounded uneasy and uncomfortable, and thus the entire chorus sounded uneasy and uncomfortable. The band was missing integral parts of both their sections and their spirits, as some chose not to come, and others chose to graduate. Well, not chose. But. Yea.

But these are just trivial parts of the evening. What I, and what I expect most everyone else, really came for was to see the seniors walk across the stage. It was strange. As much as I was upset that my friends were leaving, going off to respective colleges across the (predominantly New England area) country, I was also filled with a sense of closure. This is their final step as a high schooler. This is mine as a junior. This is me next year. This is them right now. This is okay. This is what's happening and this is the only way the future really happens, by accepting the present.

Of course, I will sorely miss the seniors that I call my friends, my best friends. To walk into Woodland next year missing such a large part of our spirit, will be a haunting and jolting realization. But, they aren't gone. They just aren't here. They're at college. They're growing up, they're finding themselves more than we ever could in these humid halls.

So, it's bittersweet.

But, hey, thank God it's summer amiright?

Equally unflattering as it is an 

accurate portrayal of our friendship.