I'm home for the Easter Weekend. Hangouts with good friends, candy and gratuitous amounts of alcohol are guaranteed. Excellent times ahead. But there's one thing I keep forgetting. I'm supposed to be turning into one of those 'adult' thingies. Dad's told me to get a haircut (which I plan on doing, just not the way he probably sees it), Mom's been on my case about going to get some kind of job, even though I have no idea where I'm living yet, and then there's the whole living situation for May. Sucks, growing up.
Now, I'm in that eternal state of "I wanna play music and write songs and tour and be free from adult things like banking and desk jobs and consistent hygiene." Ok, hygiene can stay. And I suppose I'll have no choice but to pay taxes without the help of Dad's math-brain eventually. But I'm not cut out for a desk job. I have WAY too much energy, a short attention span, and an aversion to anything that makes my head-meat work. Actually, I don't think I'm cut out for any job. Music is the one thing I'm good at and am passionate about. I don't claim to be the best (like no one ever was DUN DUN DUHNUHH) but at least I know that I don't suck. Songwriting is coming to be slowly more natural, and when the band gets together, we can get a tune together in 5 minutes or less. Seriously, we're efficient.
The problem with my plan for not really working for the rest of my life is the tiny little issue of getting the band together to practice. We live a decent distance apart from each other, and it's difficult with school getting in the way. See map:

Now, note "Mom + Dad." That's where I am now. Significantly closer to my bandmates. You'd think the long weekend would be prime opportunity to have a practice or two. Well you'd think wrong if you even thought it at all. Mat (drums) just got his wisdom teeth removed (WINGS ARE SO DELICIOUS, AS ARE OTHER SOLID FOODS, MATHEW REBECCA HYLAND) and will be out of commission until next week. When I'm not in the Burls. Errol (bass)... well he's probably busy. School and whatnot. Come to think of it, I haven't asked him what he's up to this weekend. But without a drummer, the practice would be a little off. So that rules him out by association. So you see, practices are hard to come by.
"But Patrick," you might start to think, "what happens when the school year is over, and where are you going to be?" To which I will answer: "Hell if I know." Realistically, I'm probably gonna move into an apartment in Burlington, possibly a townhouse with Mat. Maybe go to Cambridge. Toronto seems nice. Ottawa would be pretty cool, there are nice people. California seems ideal. All these places and nowhere to really go - and the band's existence pretty much solely depends on where I end up living.
I have so much to think about in the next few weeks. There is a very good reason why Easter Weekend Default Plan or "D.E.R.P." as I like to call it (if you switch some words around, and misspell 'weekend') consists of hanging out with my friends, drinking gratuitous amounts of alcohol, and eating candy until I feel profoundly unwell.

