Wednesday night in the rainy season. Very wet despite precautions. So sick of the rain. I could never live in Arcata I would go insane so kudos to them that do. Today was busy and I was running around quite a bit. Major client in the office today and four more expected tomorrow. I will be a jugglin’. The day slid into stupidity as it wound down with more and more contact with people.

Sitting at home after a day like what I just described. Juan and I watched Sarah Silverman’s ‘Jesus is Magic’ DVD that Juan had bought yesterday. She’s very funny, and I hate to use the term edgy, but she is. She spins things on their head. It’s hard to describe but she’s quite outrageous. Bill watched some of it but couldn’t bear to watch too much since he’s tired and wasn’t really feeling her particular type of humor. She’s a lot like Sandra Bernhard back in the eighties.

Juan’s wisdom teeth are coming in and he’s in a bit of pain. I sympathize. Mine came in without a problem, low pressure. So much for being the same person.

I was thinking the same thing the other day about this blog. It felt like homework. I remembered the type of student I used to be, a C student. This caused my parents, actually my father a great deal of anguish. He came up with the brilliant idea that I should sit at the dining room table and do two hours of homework each school night. My brother Brian had to do the same thing. It didn’t matter if there was homework that could be done in 10 minutes or a half hour or if there was no homework at all.

We would have to sit at the table with my parents twenty feet away in the living room watching television very loudly. My father was slowly losing his hearing and the TV had to very loud. We were supposed to hunker down and study in these conditions. Eventually Brian graduated and I was alone at the table. When there were nights with little or no homework I would simply go to the encyclopedia and copy whatever was on a page or interesting subject word by word.

It helped make 2 hours go by a bit faster. The were the occasions where my parents would go out, or to the store or god forbid parent teacher night at school. I would freak out on those nights hoping that the teacher would like me enough and perhaps have some insight that if they said the wrong thing I would more than likely come to school scarred in some way or another.

I usually went to school unscathed, perhaps a ringing in my ears from being yelled at. Report card time was nightmarish. Never forged the document but man that piece of paper caused a lot of stress and strife in that house in Lodi. Really ugly scenes. There was always the reminder that my father was spending x amount of dollars on my catholic school education. Not like I asked to go.