16/05/2002 - 4:10 p.m.

Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained.

This has been the supremo-ultimate day from the bowels of hell. And if you don't agree with me, I'll kick your ass and you can feel just as shitty as I do.

Of course, if that's the case, by tonight I ought to be euphoric.

Let's see, so I get up at five thirty to sit outside my house for ten minutes and wait for Mr Driver's Ed Asshole to show up. Six o clock in his world is, for some reason, read as 6:08 on any clock- including the one in the Driver's Ed car. This one pisses me off because he gave me shit like I'd be keeping him waiting "doing my hair and make-up". I'm sorry, I just have a little bit of a problem with someone who doesn't want to recognise that I am an original person and thinks that all teenagers are exactly alike- they drink, wear name brand clothes, listen to rap music, passionately want their licenses, and any teenager who isn't like this is abnormal.

Yeah, today I got my "abnormality" called on. I have told him I want no part of this whole driving thing. I do not enjoy it, I will not do it outside of class, and I am here to get the damn certificate and be done with it already. I'll probably let the damn thing expire and then move to London. (It's days like this I get really excited about tube stations.) Well, the problem with this is that I'm a damn good driver. I am well aware of that fact, and he is too (though I'm not letting on that I know I'm good). He can't understand why I don't think this is just orgasmic.

I'll tell you why- it's bloody boring! You can't actually see anything, you just glance at it for two seconds and move on. You have to sit in the car staring straight ahead, you can't move, you can't shift position, you can't do anything. Why the hell would anybody think that this is fun?

So when we get done this morning (after I've survived the freeway in a rainstorm, may I just mention that I'm also scared shitless of driving? Second time driving a car ever in my life and he takes me on the damn freeway in the middle of a rainstorm!?). So, anyway, here's what I get:

"You know, uhh (I don't think he has a damn idea what my name is), this is your second drive, why don't you practice this?, you could do a lot better, you do good now, but with practice..."
"I don't care."
"So, you just doing this cause you have to?"
"Yes. If I could, to get out of it, I would move to Amish country. All I'd have to do is wear dresses and learn German."
"You Amish?"
"No, but I got the long hair and the no make-up thing down." (If I were Amish, would I be here, Doofus?)

So he hands me the little "driving progress sheet" and this is what comes.

"You show your parents these?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You said I didn't have to, and it's never come up. Besides, this would be the second one I've received."
"You gonna show 'em this one?"
"Not unless they ask."
"They going to?"
"I doubt it."
"Think you should say something to them?"
"I don't see any reason to, no."
"Ah, well, OK. So, you don't like this?"
"We established that. No."
"How do you think you did today?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what do you think?"
"I don't care. This is just something I have to do."
"You got on the freeway today, you don't think that's something?"
"Was I supposed to?"

(I think it was a stupid judgement call on his part and I was scared shitless and I hated it and if it's all the same to everyone else, I don't ever want to do it again. Course, it's not, and I can't tell him what I really think.)

"OK, so I'll see you at class tonight then."
"I haven't got much choice have I?"

I get home tonight after failing a math test (I'm very very certain of my failure) and having no one to talk to all day and a whole lot of stuff to get done but all these classes in which we're not doing anything. How ironic is that, as soon as we're not doing anything in class, I have buttloads of homework.

Yeah... I get home and my Dad (It's been a day of stupid conversations folks, I haven't got any control over them, they're as close to verbatim as I can manage. I apologise if your brains are screaming, but think how mine feels.)has this to say:

"I got a phone call this morning. Who do you think it was from?"
"I don't know."
"Who are you making unhappy?"

(The Vice Principal, Mrs. Gallighan and Mr. King all flash through my head about my grades, but I can't say that.)

"I don't know."
"Your Driver's Education Instruction called this morning."
"Woo-hoo."
"And what do you think he had to say?"
"I don't know."

(For the record, I have no idea.)

"Are you playing the game they way you ought to be?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you smiling and being happy, like you just couldn't bear to be anyplace else?"
"No, why should I? I hate that stupid class."
"You know it doesn't matter what you think of it. This is acting Katie, you have to act like you think it's wonderful. Suck up and play the game the way everyone else does."
"I don't want to."
"But you know that it's what you're going to have to do to be succesful in this class, don't you."
"No, I'm going to have to find someone to change all my answers on the tests, the way everybody else does it."
"Well, that's part of it, yes."
"What do you mean?"
"Are you unaware of what this is all about?"
"Yes."
"He said that he felt you needed to be socialising more in class."
"Oh really, and what else did he say?"
"I'm not going to tell you, because it will just upset you."
"I had no idea he was going to call you. Why couldn't the jackass talk to me?"
"He's afraid of you."
"He's afraid of me?"

This is a fat black guy from the Bronx. He's scared of me?

"I gathered that from his tone and word choice, yes. Apparently you said something to him that made him decide that he better call us because we're rational grown-ups."
"What did he say?"
"I told you I won't tell you. Would you just please play the game and be happy and pass this class so you don't waste your time and your mother's money?"
"I don't see why. I've been treated like absolute crap, he's an asshole, they're willing to think you'll jump through all kinds of hoops for this damn thing cause you want it so bad, he's giving Rachel shit too. If it wasn't practically mandatory to take the class they wouldn't be in business."
"Yes, that's exactly it. They're making money because they can get by with poor customer service."
"And they claim they're the best at what they do, they knock the other company as worthless, why don't they take their own-"
"Look, I don't need the problems, you don't need the problems. Will you just play this game legitimately and we can be finished with it?"
"I have been, I just haven't been liking it."
"That's part of the game."
"I don't see why I have to act like I like it."
"Because everybody else does."
"That's bullshit."
"They like it for exactly the reasons you said, they are willing to do whatever it takes to get this thing that they want so damn badly."
"And I don't, and I can't believe that asshole called you up to-"
"I know he's a jerk, and I've talked to him for all of ten minutes. I know how you are when you come out of that class. It's very obvious. I know how you feel, I know how I feel, now, will you just do it right so we don't have to tell your mother? If we have to tell her then there'll be more screaming to deal with and it'll be her's. Do you want that?"
"No."
"Can you try to play the game?"

Well, I'll try, but I don't think it'll work. I gave him his chance not to be an asshole ages ago. He missed. By miles. I get to go to the class that's sapping my will to live tonight, of course. Missing the show choir show for it. Am very pissed off. It's just been my damn day, hasn't it?