saturday  12.26.98

everybody was home for christmas.

mike came on christmas eve with the pie (fourth year in a row. he finally admitted it's from a bakery. we knew). chris came home too and slept in his old room, which is still the computer room, so he slept next to the gateway humming all night. he said it was "like sleeping on a spaceship."

five people at the table again. it was loud. you couldn't hear anybody chew. I liked it.

presents: a road atlas from dad ("for later"). an sat prep book from mom (merry christmas?). from chris, a mix tape labeled FOR DRIVING (NOT LOUD) (OK A LITTLE LOUD). from mike, advice: "buy good shoes, and never let anybody see you run for a bus." brilliant or terrible? with mike you find out later.

ant's little sister got a furby. it talks all night. it lives in the garage now.

the third annual davey awards (1998)
best movie: armageddon. I know. I know. I don't care.
best athlete: mark mcgwire, tied with sammy sosa, because they hugged
best day: may 16 (chris graduates)
best brother: tie again. chris for the summer, mike for "the brake is your friend." they're both reading this.
best tv moment: the seinfeld finale, even though everybody says it was bad
best teacher: mrs. albanese
most improved: me, at parallel parking
worst: the eagles. I will not elaborate.
lifetime achievement: dad, for teaching me to drive and only yelling "brake" in a normal voice most of the time

listening to: chris's tape. side A is actually not loud. side B is extremely loud.

saturday  10.24.98

three things.

one. I took the psat this week. it's the practice sat. everybody tells you it doesn't count, and then they tell you it counts for the national merit thing, so it kind of counts. I filled in every bubble. that's all I can say for sure.

two. chris moved out. he got a job (a real one, with a desk) and an apartment with a buddy from college, and last weekend we moved him in. mom packed him enough food for a month. dad checked every smoke detector twice. the computer room is still the computer room. it's just more the computer room now.

three. mrs. albanese. we had to write a personal essay for english, and I wrote "a brief history of my family's arguments about pat's versus geno's," with footnotes. (dad: pat's. mom: geno's. mike: "whichever line is shorter." chris: changes every year. me: keeping my options open.) she asked if she could read it out loud, and people laughed in the right places, and one kid laughed at a footnote, which I didn't know could happen.

then she kept me after class and said, "you know people get paid to write like this, right? think about it."

so I've been thinking about it. all week. in chemistry, mostly, which is probably why I don't understand chemistry. I always thought being funny was just a thing I did to get through gym class. she said it like it could be a job. like it could be a whole future. I don't know yet. but I like the sound of it.

listening to: the radio in mom's car, which I'm allowed to drive now with a grown-up in it. nobody has been harmed.

tuesday  09.08.98

mark mcgwire hit 62 tonight.

I watched with dad on the couch. it wasn't even a big one, just a low line drive that barely got over the wall, and he was so excited he almost missed first base. then sammy sosa ran all the way in from right field and hugged him, and everybody hugged everybody, even the other team. dad said "that's baseball." I said the phillies aren't like that. dad said "the phillies aren't like anything."

junior year started today. juniors are the middle of the high school sandwich. not freshmen, not seniors. we're the pork roll.

I have english with mrs. albanese, who everybody says is tough but "worth it." spanish class girl is in a different section this year, so the final total looks like 2. a respectable number.

chris is still home, looking for a job. he drove me to school this morning because "the bus is for children." I'm going to miss that when he finds one.

listening to: dave matthews band, before these crowded streets. the other dave is growing on me.

wednesday  08.12.98

driving report.

I got my permit in march, after my six hours with the driving school guy, who has his own brake pedal and uses it like it's his hobby. now I practice with dad on sunday mornings in the empty high school parking lot, and sometimes on real roads, which dad says are "full of other people's mistakes."

top ten things dad says while I'm driving
10. "okay."
9. "OKAY."
8. "both hands."
7. "that's a stop sign, dave. it's red for a reason."
6. "you're doing great." (through his teeth)
5. "mirrors."
4. "when I learned, we didn't have power steering. we had arms."
3. "brake. brake. brake. good."
2. "don't tell your mother." (the curb)
1. "you know what? let's go get a water ice."

mom takes me out sometimes too. she doesn't say anything. she just holds the handle over the door. somehow that's worse. she's a nurse. she says she's seen what happens. she won't say what happens.

mike called sunday, and his entire driving advice was: "the brake is your friend." that's it. and it's honestly the most useful thing anybody has told me. I told him so, and he said "I've said lots of useful things," and then he couldn't think of one.

listening to: green day, "good riddance (time of your life)." chris says it's "for graduations." I'm not graduating. I'm driving in circles in a parking lot. still works.

saturday  07.04.98

fourth of july. dad's grilling. I have ten minutes before burgers.

chris has been home since graduation, and this summer is different. he doesn't treat me like the little brother anymore. well, he does a little. but mostly we just hang out, like friends. I don't know when that switched. maybe when I got taller than mom.

wednesday he took me to see armageddon on opening night. an asteroid the size of texas is coming, so they send oil drillers into space to blow it up. chris whispered "wouldn't it be easier to teach astronauts to drill?" and a man behind us said "shhh." loudest movie ever made. I loved it. I don't care.

after, we went to wawa at midnight. chris got a coffee, I got a hoagie, and we sat on the hood of his car in the parking lot and talked for like an hour. about college. about girls (him; I don't have data). about what he's going to do now. he said he doesn't know yet, and that it's okay not to know yet. it's weird hearing chris say he doesn't know something. he used to know everything.

back at polar pete's for summer number two. carmine lets me work the register now. there is still no pete.

burgers.

listening to: goo goo dolls, "iris." chris says it's "soft." it's on in his car every single time anyway.

sunday  05.17.98

chris graduated from college yesterday.

we left at 6 in the morning. dad drove, and mom brought pork roll sandwiches in foil and a thermos of coffee, and mike met us there. I wore a tie I tied myself. (resolution #4 from 1997: complete. only five months late.)

it was outside, and hot, and they read about a thousand names. when they finally got to chris, we yelled, and mike did the two-finger whistle (see: my 8th grade graduation, 1996), and chris turned all the way around in his seat and found us in the crowd and pointed right at us. mom lost it. dad pretended he didn't.

sitting there in the heat I did some math. chris left for college when I was 12. now he's done. I'm 16. in two years it's my turn. mom saw me counting on my fingers and asked what was wrong. nothing was wrong. it's just my turn next. it felt big and good and a little scary, like the top of batman: the ride right before it drops.

after, at a restaurant with cloth napkins, dad let chris leave the tip, and they both acted like that was normal.

chris is coming home for a while. "till I figure it out," he said, like that's a normal thing to not know. I didn't know you were allowed to not know.

friday  05.15.98

last night was the last seinfeld ever. the whole family watched, even mom, who says seinfeld is "four people being rude to each other for half an hour." I'm not going to say what happens. a lot of people hated the ending. I laughed. kramer was kramer right to the end, and that's all you can ask.

then this morning dad said frank sinatra died, and he put on one of his old sinatra records while he made eggs and didn't say much. I didn't know he loved sinatra. you live with somebody your whole life and you still find stuff out.

mom traded shifts with two other nurses to get tomorrow off. she says nurses trade shifts like baseball cards.

chris graduates tomorrow. I have to wear a tie. I have to TIE a tie.

listening to: the other dave's new album, which chris bought and immediately lent me, which is growth for both of us.

friday  02.13.98

friday the 13th, and something good happened.

in the hallway after lunch, spanish class girl walked past me, stopped, and said "hey, you're in my spanish class."

and I said: "sí."

that's it. that's the whole thing. she said it in english and I answered in spanish, like a lunatic. she laughed (a nice laugh, not a mean one) and kept walking.

jimmy says it was "actually kind of smooth." ant says it was "the worst thing he has ever seen." greg says it was "a conversation," which is what I'm going with.

conversations with spanish class girl: 2

other news, since I didn't write for a month: I turned 16 on the 22nd. sixteen. we had cheesesteaks and a tastykake with a candle in it, and mike and chris both called. I'm signed up with the driving school for my six hours, which is how you get your permit in new jersey. six hours in a car with a stranger who has his own brake pedal. I'll report back.

tomorrow is valentine's day. I'm spending it the way I always do: at the deptford mall with jimmy, splitting a soft pretzel and not buying anything.

listening to: weezer, pinkerton. chris says I'm "ready for it" now. I think I am.

sunday  01.11.98

new year. new look.

the clouds are gone. I'm almost sixteen, and the clouds felt a little... 1997. so this is the black edition. everything's lowercase except when I yell, which I'm doing less of now. mom says I'm "mellowing." I'm not mellowing. it's january. everybody's tired.

(the old versions are still up, links at the top and bottom. I can't bring myself to delete the construction guy.)

break recap:
- chris went back yesterday for his last semester of college. ever. he says it like it's nothing. mom says it like it's a lot.
- mike came for dinner on new year's day and fell asleep on the couch during a bowl game, which he says is "tradition." everything is tradition with mike.
- the eagles tied a game this season. you can TIE in football. nobody told me this.

sixteen on the 22nd, which means the permit, which means dad has started "casually" mentioning the brake.

listening to: foo fighters, "everlong." the best song ever made. yes, I said that about "say it ain't so." there can be two.