| Current mood: |  sick |
| Current music: | Mom bitching |
You're still on my clothes from three days ago...
I just put on my track sweatshirt and I caught a whiff of Clayton’s Tommy cologne I sprayed on the other night. I just have to remember if I smell it too much, the smell will go away.
My Friday night has gone absolutely boring. Mom took me to get some movies. Then I made a plate of steak fries, and settled myself on the couch. Gram called and bugged me for 15 minutes about my grades… and I assured her that even though I’m failing Biology, I’ll have my grades up by the end of the semester. She gave me a mini-lecture on how I better stay focused on school cuz she doesn’t want to be putting away my college money for nothing. Jesus. I KNOW. I’m trying, believe it or not.
While I was watching my movies, the oddest thing happened. Jamie called. But that’s not the odd part. I walked over to the phone, and I checked the Caller ID, and I saw it was him, and I didn’t pick up. I got the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach and I plugged my ears and closed my eyes really tight until the phone stopped ringing. Still, two hours later, I have no clue why I did that. I haven’t much gotten to talk to him in a week, and I’ve been meaning to. To make some plans or something. But then I just looked at the Caller ID and didn’t pick up. I don’t know why. Why?!
So anyway, I was watching this movie called Igby Goes Down. Basically it’s about this rich kid that’s gotten kicked out of all these schools and is trying to cope with his family and find himself. One of those coming-of-age-ish sort of things, but not really. It got me thinking. I feel like I’m destined to be one of those kinds of people in this movie. Like I’m going to drop out of school at 17, because I’m blowing off my grades and doing all these mind-altering drugs, and turning my liver into a coral reef because I can keep down one too many martinis each day. Even though I’m frightened of drugs and can’t even keep down a soda. He gets kicked out of these schools, and I wonder if I’m ever going to get like that. I mean even right now, I’m slipping. I’m slipping a lot. What if I was one of those people, like Igby or Holden Caulfield? What if I’m one of those people who aren’t even out of high school yet and are resting on my laurels and thinking I own the world… so my major goal in life is to do nothing? In some instances, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad. I could dress like an aristocrat and rent a studio in New York and live there and be bohemian and not worry about where I’m going to be in five years. I’d take a plane to California on a moment’s notice. But then there is this small part of me that’s thinking, I need to get good grades. I need to go to Stanford. I need to make something spectacular out of myself. Even a year ago, I had things all figured out and now suddenly I have no clue what I want to do with my life. I don’t even think I want to write anymore. It could just be that I feel really depressed tonight, and it probably is. But still… this is my life. And I don’t like it much. I’m such an amateur right now. Usually I think-- hey, I’ve got the world wrapped around my finger… I understand it, I know exactly what to do with it. Boy am I so wrong. I know pretty much nothing and it makes me feel like shit.
God I really hate these nights at home. I think way too much and end up a basket case. I’m going to be like the dad in that movie… he went all freaky and ended up in some institution or other. So did Holden Caulfield. Am I Holden Caulfield?
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