"I don't know what I wanna do in college, dammit!" says Morgan, later in that time period (yeah, cuz we have no idea what day it is), while sitting at the kitchen table with his dad. "One day I wanna go to CLC, the next minute I wanna go to Columbia, next minute I wanna stay home for a year, next minute I wanna go to Chile for year or something like that...not Chile, but --"

(For those of you outside of Illinois, CLC is "College of Lake County" and it's sort of our version of a community college. And Columbia is Columbia College, a pretty decent film/theatre/arts school in downtown Chicago. Got it? Good.)

"You can't stay home for a year unless you're in school," says Papa Morgan. Morgan, who's playing with a bike pump (the hell?), turns directly to the camera and says, "Can you feel the love?" Hee. As Duncan enters and rips off Morgan's hat, Dad tells Morgan that it has nothing to do with love. The sad fact of the matter is, the majority of Morgan's friends are going to be doing something next year, whether it's going to CLC or Columbia or some other school or they'll still be in high school. "You can't be the guy who's doing nothing," says Papa Morgan.

He's got a point, actually. I give the guy a hard time occasionally, but he's almost always looking out for Morgan. I may not like his method of delivery, but I kind of dig how blunt he is with Morgan, because, quite frankly, I think bluntness is the only way in which to deal with the boy. Listen to me. "The boy." What am I, Auntie Mame? Jesus.

Morgan leaves after hearing this particular bit of bluntness, and Papa Morgan says, "Seems Morgan doesn't want to grow up." Yeah. It would seem that way. Meanwhile, Morgan and Duncan are playing baseball out on some field (if by "playing" you mean "running aimlessly around a baseball diamond, throwing a baseball bat at your younger brother and then wrestling him down to the ground so as to get a better vantage point from which to beat him senseless") as Papa Morgan's VO explains that Morgan's sort of stuck between being a child and becoming an adult. So am I, actually. That doesn't give me license to chuck a hard wooden object at my sibling.

No. NO! Please, NO! Allie's reading her poetry. Gah. GAH! GAAAAAAHHH!! Something about "tugging" and "holding on" and "struggle." Ew. Stinky-poo.

Beyond the bad poetry (and believe me, I know whereof I speak; I have all of my old college poems saved on disc somewhere and they are, without a doubt, completely ATROCIOUS; so much pain, so much angst, so many DESCRIPTIVES -- stinky-poo times ten, people), Allie informs us that she and her mother had a huge fight. The result? Allie's mom told her to pack her bags.