Avid Subscribers, Occasional Readers, and Stumbling Strangers,
It's time to put to rest something that I hoped would go far past its expiration date, but for whatever reason, I succumbed to the pitfalls of using this as a lonely writer's gateway, for those who wanted to see behind that wall I put up, just behind that other wall people have to get through for me to trust them, in. It all got out of control to be honest.

Inevitably, I saw the end coming to this blog a long time ago. As the writer who penned all of its entries I knew it would reach its critical mass at some point, and it definitely has. For a while I had deleted this blog and kept its contents private but as much as I'm ashamed at where this blog ended up, especially there at the end, this was as much a part of me as anything this year, and to delete it off the map is deleting a part of myself and swearing that it never happened.

I am proud of some of the posts I wrote...a lot of my poetry, detailed messages to family members, and personal struggles within the very confines of the words I was using, to figure things out on my own, while I was writing that very blog, are among my most treasured. Though there are the "my life sucks" posts, I can't forget that as a writer and as a person I am still growing and maturing. I deftly contradict any of my ill-supporters who claim that what I was writing was more garbage, creepy, and perverted (rather than beautiful and intense emotional wordplay that it actually was) by saying that if you're going to be a critic of someone's life you better get to know a person first before casting your stones; you don't get me because you don't know me, and you won't by reading a few of my blog posts. Unfortunately, whoever you are (and I think I know), you were the straw that broke this camel's back and forced me to take the kind of action I did.

In the end none of that really matters. My blog will stand the test of time and be public once again, and hey, I might even post a thing or two, but I have moved on, along with a lot of other things. My new project will be revealed whenever I feel that it's ready, which may take up until the day before Christmas; I think those that appreciated my work before will be pleased, those who didn't will find new vitality in what I'm doing, while also attracting those who never knew me and just might like to.

Thank you to my friends who supported me this entire year, as some know this blog was started in early January, while it seems that there are only posts from February, a year of blogging in one spot, I think, is an accomplishment. I saw the rise and fall of my posts and it'll always be here as a reminder of what 2010 was like for me in raw format.

Thank you for your respect,
Eric

P.S. Info on my new project will be posted right below this as soon as it becomes available. Very few people are privy to what I'm up to and as the days go by I get more and more excited to share it. But I must wait it out in anticipation. Take care.

I can't sleep, and like it was a while ago, you're the cause; a pleasant reminder of what we had, albeit an inconvenient time to be awake at 2 in the morning thinking about it, due to finals week. It's possible that the growing anticipation of meeting up again is cause for remembrance but I feel in order to sleep soundly tonight I must be honest about how I am feeling.

Guilt, I think they call it.

I am upset at the way things ended up this quarter- and it's most likely because of me. When leaving for summer vacation I probably had certain expectations upon returning, though I would, and did say otherwise. Often during my trip across Europe I found creativity and inspiration in how I remembered you; I wrote some of my best poetry and short stories while doing so. The minimal English interaction I had only fueled my ambition to soon talk to you again back in the States.

Composed as I may have been during our first meeting back I thought I handled it rather well. Took us a while though, didn't it? My concern was that somehow you thought I was different after you telling me and getting a text after. Different, how? Good or bad? I thought I was quite the same. Famous for never revealing your emotions as openly as I did I thought I did the right thing in not pushing things or getting into a fierce conversation at the very outset- a mistake I suppose on my part. We both would have been better off knowing.

Time went on and we both were busy, rarely able to find time to meet up, even though I contended I'd meet you anywhere/anytime if only for a little while, I just assumed you were too busy to even think about moving forward. I started to shut down that part of my brain that leads to insecurities and slowly try and purge everything out and move on. That's where I made my biggest mistake. I gave up. And by the next time I saw you I was different and it was obvious things weren't the same; we both knew it. I messed up real bad and I hope you can forgive me. Not even a friendship worth bragging about was recognizable from the lack of communication and I dare say we've even fallen close to becoming "acquaintances" status to my minds utter detest.

I don't want that to be how you remember me, that last lunch, because I truly enjoyed every bit of time spent with you. There were times when I could have pulled my hair out not knowing how you felt but I should have not let it get to me and taken things easy. I don't know what it'll be like the next time we run into each other. I imagine, given the circumstances you'll see the Eric you got to know at the very beginning of it all, and that's exciting. I think back and those were great moments. Admittedly, I am different since we met last, and am different from the time before that- but I think in a good way, it's the only way I could have come to this conclusion. In all accounts I believe I've become more mature, though I'm incapable of ever fully growing up, call it Peter Pan's Syndrome.

I remember walking the beach at sunset, dining at fine establishments, and more. You'll always have a place in my heart regardless. So thank you for those memories in hopes of more opportunities to create new ones.

Editor's Notes:
*The type of males that are referred to in this blog need to realize they put me in a place where I look better because of the stupid stuff that they do. I encourage those people to keep doing what they're doing.
*You certainly get a lot of attention. Comparatively, how bad was I?
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I look back and think about how my relationships I've had could have worked out. There's the- "I don't know what I'm doing and I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess of a person" relationship-, the -"if we were a little less busy and a little more committed to it" relationship-, and the -"I'll do anything to make you happy if you just give me the chance.......um, nothing?" relationship-. Generally, I pick the most recent one to do analysis on, and I figure I'm seeing some things from a different perspective than I normally would.

Now, I know I'm no upstanding moral authority on treating women how they should be treated (I do what I can), but hell, I'm not asking for that role because there's too much pressure to perform and nobody is absolutely perfect. However, I do think I have the upper hand on a lot of gentleman who seem to take their ego far too personally to be considered a gentleman anymore; and yes, I have an ego too, but I recognize that it can get out of control, and when it does, it can be considered a bad thing.

Stop grabbing your junk and thinking you're entitled to a relationship because you have a pair. You should know that people can make up their minds as quickly and as easily as you can. Casting aside ex-lovers and then getting buyer's remorse isn't an excuse to act like you are worth the trouble. You don't invest your time and effort into something and expect it to magically erupt into a fountain of gummy bears and sugar coated lollipops of love and affection. And if it does go wrong, you need to understand where and when to draw the line. I did. I drew the line and found out that the other person wasn't willing to come on my side of the chasm. It was fine because we were both safe on our respective sides- I let the situation go and did not assume something that wasn't there because what I wanted, wasn't what the other person wanted, and it still seems to be the case. Maybe I've grown used to this response, but hey, this is what life teaches us: roll with the punches, live with your decisions, and treat others how you want to be treated.

It's hard to know someone right off the bat and nobody should necessarily jump to conclusions based on a first impression. This is college though, everyone's a little thirsty, and wants something. I did, I admit it. I should have gotten to know the person better before I started throwing everything but the kitchen sink at her. My mistake, and I'm taking the chance to reverse that, lucky enough to have been offered that chance.

I try to separate myself from those other heterosexual males that require a life support when it comes to intelligence or the ones who need a guy twice as big to come by and slap whatever stupid sense they have of being better than someone else out of their system. I might be a little skinnier and a little less muscular, but I also do the little things...I listen, I give, I accept, I think, I care, I compromise, and I try. Some people may call these little things; I do, because it's natural for me to do them. I don't need to be shaken or put on "Tool Academy" to become aware of them.

And I know some of you reading this aren't like that- God bless you for being better than what the expectations are for our sexual identity. I hope that one day, if not already, you find true happiness in someone else who compliments you and is worth every breath and heartbeat that you would so easily give just to spend time with them.

In the end, you sometimes aren't as cool as you think you are. Tell me about it. I've been there. Reality checks come in different forms. Get your head right.

Ask yourself these questions:
*What kind of relationship do you deserve? And can he/she give it to you?*
*If yes, what's stopping you? If no, who can?*

I'm writing a poem in a draft text message to one of my best friends; if he ever got ten text messages in a row from me, I apologize for that, I've been listening to a lot of Brother Ali lately and the flow's just been running through me, and the only thing around to write down what I was thinking was in a text. I assume I'll use this as my major performance for the class that I co-teach on spoken word poetry since I have yet to write anything else for it. I like it so far, it's got nice flow. Of course, I'm building up the suspense for those reading this in my class and others who want to hear it but will have to wait until after it's premiered in the class.

I know a lot about a little. Certain things come natural to me, like writing. It's something that I've loved to do ever since I was little-er. I remember my first story that I wrote was about a dream that I had and it was mixed with a lot of what I was going through at the time and Full House. Don't worry, the story has been saved in a few locations, one being my grandmother's locked cabinet, and the other being a binder in my room full of etchings and loose pieces of paper I've scribbled on throughout my life.

I took a writing class one summer, and it's too late at night to try and think about exactly what year it was, I was young when I took it, but in the class we got a beige notebook with blank paper inside where we wrote stories weekly and then get prompts during class. I wrote sequels to Star Wars and a story about my friends lost dog. Mason, who eventually came back.

In middle school I tried writing angst poetry, like every person that age does. But the only thing I can think that spurred my want to write poetry was my newly found love of rap music after my sister exposed me to MTV, because for a while my parents didn't want me watching it- true story.

I continued to write, adding jokes to my repertoire. Ever since I first started I haven't stopped. I have performed a few times at open mics, nothing too spectacular just yet. Though, if I were ever to use one of my old jokes it probably wouldn't have the same effect I thought it would have back in seventh grade.

In the summer going into freshman year of high school I took a class called: Comedy Sketch Writing. It changed my life forever. Not only did I meet one of my best friends ever, Kirk O., I also was exposed to sketch comedy. We were taught by Richard Goteri, who had a role in The Godfather, and more importantly wrote for Saturday Night Live's Weekend Update. He was a God to me. At the end of the course he gave us a pre-release of his book on improvisation, a book that I still have today here in Chicago; I refer to it every now and again.

I've written plays, sketches, poems, screenplays, short stories, long stories, etc...

In my junior year of high school I wrote a one act play that was put on by my high school, which was pretty cool. I got a lot of press for it and when I said that I didn't care about that, I really did, and it was probably evident. It was nice to be the star for a change.

In my senior year, when looking at colleges, one of the competing ones was Humber College in Toronto- I wanted to major in Comedy Sketch Writing.

Here I am though, DePaul University, and a Creative Writing major. I have my hands in a lot of different art styles and I can't wait to see where I go from here. I love writing. It's been in my life for just about as long as I can remember. Let a writer write, I say. I will continue to do so. That new blog I started about the PHN Cross Country team is one example of a place in time that I have to write about since it was so influential. I urge everyone to continue checking back in on the progress of that, I keep saying it but really, there were some absolutely hilarious moments.

Words, words, words. They are my bread and butter. The tools of my trade and so much more.

I have two weeks left before I hear a gun shot...hopefully. If not, something went terribly wrong.

The summer leading into senior year my friends and I woke up early and met at our high school and worked out for a while before going out onto the track to run. We were slow at first, but we got stronger as the months went on, and by the end of it we were challenging ourselves to do crazy feats of strength, such as running backwards for a mile, doing lunges for a quarter mile, jump roping the 3/4 of a mile perimeter of the school, etc. We were having a fun time watching ourselves howl in pain from sore muscles and busted ego's.

A little before August my best friend Ajay told us that he was going out for the cross country team that year while we were walking back to where we parked amidst frowns of confusion and pity; none of us had ever attempted to run more than two miles before, even after our summer of crazy challenges. Now, I make decisions on a whim, especially some of my biggest, and in that moment I told Ajay that I'd try it out with him. Who knew what to expect?

The day came for our first practice. We couldn't get our schedules just right so instead of meeting on Monday we showed up on a Wednesday ready to run. Not only were we going to run two miles, but our assignment was to run four miles to a local community center and back. I remember looking at Ajay and the surprised look on his face. It took him a few seconds to notice me on the other side of the circle we were in, but as soon as he did, I mouthed some nastiness for having me run something crazy like four miles.

So, we ran, and we ran, and we ran. Ajay and I started strong; I mean, we had been running the entire summer. Ajay shot forward with one of the better runners on the team and I didn't see him again until the turnaround point, which I had yet to reach. I set a strong pace at the start and couldn't keep it, falling way back to where the rest of the guys were. I had fun the rest of the run complaining about how long we had been running. Honestly, coach expects us to run this much?

And it's at this point that I realize how much I miss cross country and the team that we had back then. I started a new blog. I messaged them and hope they're all cool with it because there's so much material to write about, pretty much all of it hilarious.

In two weeks I have the Hot Chocolate 5K. It brought me way back to the old school days of XC especially because I'm in the unique spot of being exactly where I was when I ended it in high school, time wise (my best recorded time was 20:12). I actually have a chance to break my 5K record,and I'm on pace to do it, it's unbelievable. I'm getting more excited for this race each day after I run. It's going to be really fun.

Editor's Notes:
Many people have been there for me these past few weeks. To my friends, my co-RA's, and my family I don't know where I'd be without you. I have been challenged and tested this entire quarter and "thanks" doesn't even begin to cover it. It means so much to me, and I hope you can take "I love you" as an adequate response, because I don't say it very often, and I honestly mean it when I say it.

So on to the meat of the blog...
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I don't normally take this approach, but I will this time, with some vigor. Every girl that steps into my life, especially in a romantic way, has an impact on me. I can trace what girls influenced what part of my personality or whatever. But, there sometimes comes a person who has such an impact on me that I am so much different by the end than when I started out liking this person; this is one of those cases.

I thought it was me for the longest time and that there was something I could do to make the person I liked see me in a different light, I mean, up until two days ago; so I did everything under the sun, half I think she doesn't even know about, but she obviously will now. So I direct this next section to her.

Because of you, I have started running again. What's it been? A week now since I've picked running up, all to show that I still had my running legs come November 6th. I will run the race like I planned to, but  not for you, and not for me to impress you like I hoped to, but just for me; to look at myself and be proud of my accomplishment. Today, running on the treadmill, I went and surprised myself with a 21 min 5K. It's funny, my legs aren't just supporting my body anymore, they are supporting my entire spirits. I am so looking forward to this opportunity to relive my Cross Country days and run my absolute hardest. The Chicago Marathon next year maybe?

See, I cut my hair a different way. I was willing to change my clothing. I went out of my way, to the limit, to try and make your day nicer, for better or for worse on how it actually ended up. Now, I really like my haircut. And I still want to get new clothes (I do think I need an upgrade). And I will continue to be that type of person I have always been- to be there for people when they need me. I see what qualities I have to offer. And, all that stuff everybody was saying about me was true. I am pretty great, and I shouldn't feel egotistical about admitting to it. I realize, the girl that wants to be in my life as much as I do her will feel untold happiness. I told you earlier the amount of care that I show is only a fraction to the capacity in which I can. I am so confident in that.

Because of you, I've been lifting and toning my body. P90X has been killing me but when I look in the mirror I am pleased with what I see. Not only did I start working out, I continued working out. The average length for me to keep a workout schedule hovered around 4 days since high school ended, but because of you, I've been working out daily for a month now. And I am committed to it. For me.

But, there comes a time where it can't be about you anymore. I can't start doing all these things because I know what I am isn't what you like.

Was it ever about me with you? And I'm asking honestly, because I had to pull teeth to figure out how you felt. You rarely gave a word or notion to how you felt and when you did you were quick to take it back. I never deserved being tested. I told you how I felt multiple times. What you did was put a string out and pull it away from me as I reached for it. I dedicated all that I had to put you in front of myself, a sacrifice you weren't ready to reciprocate, at least not with me, not in however many weeks I've been at trying.

And that is okay. Now. Yesterday, not so much. Today though: I feel fucking fantastic.

I am a new man. I am stronger than ever. I feel bulletproof. Whatever you throw at me is impenetrable to the layer of individuality I have barricaded myself around. Not to mention the support system I have around me. Look at me who has come to be this person.

I have always said that I am a product of the people I have let into my life, and so I thank you for showing me a part of myself that had yet to be uncovered; but, the mirage is broken. You are just a person, as pretty and as amazing as I still think you are, but to me, I have to come first, until you can prove that you, or anyone reading this, are deserving of the back rubs, late night and early morning messages, ice cream (when you weren't expecting it), honesty (even when you didn't want to hear it), a person who tried desperately to make you laugh (at any point), hidden tokens of my affection, memories you could fill a time capsule with, and most importantly- me in general. I can't make you think otherwise about me, I wish I could, because I tried so damn hard.

My head nods.
How much more of this is there?
I don't know.
I accept what much more there is,
Before things get better.

I sat in the quad reading a book for an essay that is due relatively soon; however, I was distracted by the girl sitting directly across from me, for whom I admired, perhaps obviously, as her slightly over shoulder length long auburn-red hair was being blown parallel to the ground just above the bushes that surround the center of the quad. I can't say what she was working on, whatever it was she was committed to it, and I felt a drop within me because I probably will never know her name. I would have liked to know what name could try and give justice to such a beauty. My head nods, maybe it's better this way that I don't know her, I would probably only accustom her to being treated like a princess.

My best isn't always good enough, lately. Before, I could trace history and pick out areas that I needed to improve on, where exactly I went wrong in given situations. I can't do that this time. I pulled out stops; maybe I wasn't too forward, or maybe I was, I don't know. That statement lingers lately: I don't know; it is across the board.

Upon hearing that my harddrive for my laptop could be unfixable and that I might have to penny up for a new one, I could barely make out what the person behind the desk was telling me; like other times when you get bad news, the room slows down, your hands clam up, and you fail to grip the extreme nature of the situation. It's just a laptop, yes; but, it's college and I do need this unreliable piece of technology to get by, especially with the amount of extracurricular work I have. I cannot use this myriad of computers around campus much longer...   It's been a week since my computer started malfunctioning and I still have no clue why it started happening. There was no precursor, no foreshadowing to these events, they just started happening and now my computer sits in the shop and I am waiting to hear back on the final word. I accept that I may be without a computer for a while longer while I work on homework elsewhere and try to attain enough money to buy a new one.

I woke up feeling good, this is undeniable- it's on Twitter as proof. I was in a good mood throughout most of the day too; the weather was nice, I had no classes, the entire day lay ahead of me to get work done, and I knew I'd be talking with some of my favorite people throughout the day (M,B,Tr,To,O,etc...).

But, a day is 24hrs.
And I know that there is still enough time left for things to get better.
But this is where I am, stuck...

Before things get better...
Before things get better...
I need things to get better.

Editor's Notes:
*I like how blogs can be worked on anywhere- I've worked on this in three different locations because my laptop crashed*
*Sometimes baseball can have sexual connotations. I can not over emphasize that this has nothing to do with sexual concepts*
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Patience is a virtue I am still learning- I won't sugarcoat it. I am pretty terrible at waiting for something that might not come. I guess I'm pretty empirical in this sense; I like to know what's what- the entire story.

That's probably why baseball is one of my favorite sports; I value those who can see a 95mph fastball high, thinking that it's at the letters (perfect for a homerun), and they can hold up on their swing, multiple times if they have to. Professionals can wait on those throws that they know will eventually come and foul off the ones that aren't worth their time. It's pretty amazing to square up a round bat on a round ball and drive it out of the infield for hits (not everyone can have Honus Wagner speed).

Putting it differently, the goal is to run up the other starter pitcher's pitch count enough so they can be taken out of the game as soon as possible, that's why they're starters- they're more efficient at getting balls and strikes and can go for much longer outings on the mound. Big league pitchers have gnasty stuff; fastballs from high nineties, sliders mid eighties, and curveballs that just drop right off the table. A player who is batting must know their strengths and take what's given to them. If the pitcher knows the batter's strengths they may try and pitch around or use different pitches to change the speed at which his eyes are moving to locate the balls and adjust; this is an understood method of play for pitchers at any level- to change speed and location of pitches. The better the player, the higher the average, the more pitches he can handle. An average player may have one or two pitches that he looks for in certain counts (1 ball: 2 strikes, 3 balls: 0 strikes, etc...), so they must be patient and wait for the pitcher to make a mistake or throw the batter the pitch that they're looking for.

MLB: The Show is one of my favorite video games for this reason. Each time I play, I feel like I'm getting a little bit of practice in seeing what's given to me, reacting, and in that split second deciding whether to swing or not. Often times I just want to swing the bat at anything- the game can get monotonous (in real life or especially in video game form), but you have to maintian composure and pick your pitches to do well.

It's all part of the game.

And no, I'm not completely cured of my impatience when it comes to certain things; and yes, there's no amount of video game playing or sport watching that can mold me otherwise.
Sometimes though when you're put into a situation, there's no count to try and guess your pitch, there can still be fans behind the plate distracting you, you don't have any other choice but to wait and react when you finally get that belt-buckle-middle-away-Regan-era-fastball-chance of a pitch, and maybe, just maybe, you'll hit it out of the park. Granted, I have the same likelihood that I'll get the same pitch and hit it straight for an out- you never know- my batting average isn't the best.

Babe Ruth's "Shot Heard Round the World"

These are thoughts throughout the weekend I never said aloud:

It's weird how gentrification has made the city look better- and this is not a good thing...
Imagine where the worst neighborhoods are. Think about where, geographically, Chicago is located; the MidWest, with a large percentage of the country South and West. Take a look at a map. The I-90 and I-94 intersect and make a straight shot towards the city past those neighborhoods before making a left around the city. There's practically no way of going North past Chicago without taking this route, especially with most of the traffic coming from the South, West, and even East, without first looking at the worst neighborhoods and then being exposed to the magnificence of skyscrapers and glorious nature of the place compared to the slums you passed minutes ago. Do you think this actually resonates with people? I'm not saying it's a conspiracy, but it's pretty interesting.

Oct. 2nd, 2010, wedged in-between Program Planning and Mafia/Improv/Laughing, there will always be a moment.

The Sears/Willis Tower has two spires. It reminds me of that game with the folded-up paper football. The one where your friend would make an end zone post with their hands and you would try and flick the football through the posts. It'd be crazy if anyone could do it that well to kick it through the Sears/Willis Tower's spires from ground level.

I didn't want to come back to DePaul.

One day when I own an apartment, I imagine the worst part about said apartment will be the hot water bills. I mean, I only use hot water for showers and cleaning the dishes. I'll have to start cleaning the dishes in the shower because in the shower I have too much free time.

I don't think the ball could be any further in your court. Your serve.

There are some cards that shouldn't exist in Apples to Apples. I can't ever see winning a round with Ernest Hemingway or Carl Sagan. For the record too, I'd rather not associate the green cards I amount to my personality traits, for a few dumb reasons it's not worth getting into.

The mirror image of it raining was really heavy.

Thanks everyone who came to the RHC retreat- it was a blast for me and I'm glad we had a lot of bonding time even amidst the grind of the training. We made it and we're closer than I bet you expected we would be. I didn't think I'd be as close to the people (physically (during the laughing game) and mentally) as I am now. It truly was an amazing experience to get to know the new people and it only reaffirms my belief that this executive board is one of the best I've seen since I've started in RHC three years ago; this isn't a jab at e-boards of the past, but we truly do have something special this time around.

I told you I'd blog about it.

Sometimes when I look at a blank blog post box I get a little intimidated. There's so much I could choose to put in or just leave out and an astounding amount of it remains somewhere scribbled on scraps of paper in a notebook or on posts that never got published on the front page of the blog; there is always a chance an idea may never see the reaction of another's other than my own.

I have a lot to say normally, in my head that is. I guess you really have to understand less is more when I'm speaking. The more concise I am the longer I've thought about it. The more time I take explaining something I don't know, or haven't worked out very well, is often when I start to flounder.

My life has been crazy of late.

I ran into someone from my hometown that actually teaches at DePaul now! I'm really excited to see her again and hopefully we can meet up sometime. I'm fascinated when I see people from home in Chicago, let alone at DePaul; I'd definitely like to talk and get to know her better if there's a chance. Could this be a product of homesickness? Before, we had a working relationship when we were in theater, when I was in high school, and I don't remember what she was doing at the time- still in school somewhere probably.

Another one of my long lost friends from theater in middle school found me too. I guess we "dated," or we called it that. She lived a distance away and I think I only saw her once or twice before losing contact with her. Relationships were hard without text messaging in middle school haha.

I get my hopes up. I do. Even though I try not to. There's a part of me that wants to be gullible and believe everything but there's always that feeling where nothing is for sure. Heresy is my addiction lately.

And now it's bedtime- my favorite time because I've been severely lacking it. I'll dream about tomorrow probably, or being in a rocketship, or maybe an excursion to the beach, a sunflower coming to life, or hopefully something more substantial- a look at what I want the most. (I almost made it an entire blog without alluding to my heart or my ongoing struggles in that department, damn).

Intellectually originated in 'Daredevil's Hamlet,' but I can relate to it and want to relay it
- playing at the Neo-Futurariam this weekend.

When we were little boys, my friends and I played 'War'- not the card game, but the childhood reincarnation of what we thought war was like to our six and seven year old heads; we were just trying to make sense of it all. 

Across the yards of our neighborhood we would set up our own trenches and advance on foreign territory, some of it we had actually never seen before, sneaking around corners and pretending the enemy was continually coming. The open field was where we would scream and dart from each end whilst avoiding cannon blasts and those zipping-by bullets.

This was an imagined world of war, and we were never completely out of casualties because we suffered them daily, whether that be actual physical marks (on knees or arms) or the ones we just made up- so at times one of us would get "hit" by the enemy.

This game as it was still applies to my life today; however, in a different sense than before. 

I want to be the first one hit during the battle because those are always the ones people go back for. "No! We can't leave Eric! No man gets left behind!" As they would rush back towards me, using my body as a tactile defense position encircling me, protecting me from more oncoming fire.

I'd get slung over a shoulder or dragged to a safer place where we could have a chance to be men instead of warriors again. Someone close would lift my head, put it on their lap, and comfort me in my declining moments: "We're going to get you out of this." To be supported: "You are going to make it." And to be needed: "Don't you dare quit on me now." 

Those people who go back for you, lift you up, carry you to safety, and more are what I'd refer to as "best friends." There will still be people who are off somewhere in the distance waging countless other battles but there's that person who sticks to you, not for the sake of the roles they play in the game but because they actually care.

With as many things that I'm doing at DePaul, it's not easy to have consistent relationships with people. I recognize how truly lucky I am then to have those people in my life to be there for me when I get "hit" by life's intangibles. 

Thank you for what you have done for me so far and in advance for what may come in the future. 
Thank you for allowing me into your lives and giving part of your time away.
Thank you for listening to what I mean to say, not always what I do say, haha.
Thank you for sharing personal experiences with me- we have inside jokes now!
Thank you for asking me critical questions about myself.
Thank you for being yourselves with me.

The list far exceeds this one; I hope I got the idea across and that we'll continue to "build" that relationship in ways that works on an individual level (do you know what I mean?).

You want honesty?
You beg for it- from me,
Like I didn't want to give it.
But I say my peace
And get nothing in return.
Not.
A.
Word.
You want honesty?
What will you trade it for?
___________

When I was asked yesterday about making my blog more outright, I wasn't sure what exactly that meant. I am always on the lookout to make this page better and more interesting to read- because I want people to; so I am considering what was put forth. But how?

By being more outright I could list the things I do on a daily basis, I feel this is uninteresting. There are times when I do write what I did that day because I either have nothing to write about, I'm avoiding something, or it goes with a bigger concept I'm trying to convey about life in general. However, my day to day activities are pretty monotonous. I go from 8a-1a pretty much every day, seven hours of sleep is my average. Within one day many things happen- my Twitter serves as a mini-live-blog. If I had Internet on my phone, I don't know how often I'd be writing blogs anymore because of the amount of information I'd post there. So, yeah, follow me on Twitter is the moral of that story.

By being more outright I could say the things I've been meaning to say more directly. Now, I've covered this before but I want to add a little bit more to it. Even recently, I posted a blog that started off by saying how there are some things I cannot write in the blog (referring to "Respectfully..." (09-04-10)) and this is totally true, things can become too personal. What I want to add is that I don't like hurting feelings because I know how it feels, and it's pretty un-fun. By writing texts that can't necessarily be pin-pointed to a particular person, I can use the excuse of, "how exactly do you know I was writing about you?" I feel people's opinions of me change rather quickly and I'd rather avoid a conflict especially when something is read on-line and can be read out of context.

By being more outright I could...I don't know, ask for audience participation? So I ask you, the readers that I do have, what is it you want to read? What will keep you coming back, without me having to post something on Facebook? I need suggestions. This isn't just about me, but a community of people that may or may not know me that live through the same experiences. I'm being serious though, it may be tempting to write something jokingly, but please mean what you write and be constructive. If you say my writing sucks, I will believe that you think my writing sucks and I'll never know how to get better. It's not required, but I'd appreciate the advice.
_____________

I am not made up of light bulbs, sometimes my colors don't shine bright enough for you to see them.
I am rather made up of prisms, if you shine a light at me at the right angle you can see everything I offer.

Yeeeesssssssuh. At last! I am back after my short, unplanned, hiatus from writing on this blog, which wasn't terribly long, but either way, plenty has happened this last week. So much that it doesn't bear repeating! There's literally too much to talk about in this post. I don't have the time or stamina to stay up any later than midnight tonight. I am fairly drained.

Classes have started! My classes are awesome except for my religion class which could very well be my hardest class in college so far. Tuesdays are literally unfathomable to those who like to space out their classes. Imagine, teaching from 9:30-11:30 in the Loop, shooting back to Lincoln Park to eat, having a class from 1:00-4:15, 4:20-5:50, and then trying to wrap it up with a 6:00-9:15 class. Fortunately, like I said, my classes are ballin'. My science lab requirement class (Image, Optics, and Cinematic Motion) could not be easier! My Interpersonal Communication class is taught by an awesome professor and it's something that I'm eager to learn more about. Finally though, my Topics in 19th Century Literature: Monsters & Villains has the look and feel like it could make my life hell, but the professor, well, she's worth the price of admission, if you know what I mean. hahaha.

So I'm in transition, in that, my life right now isn't something I would have guessed it would be and I am in the process of adjusting to, what I feel like is, an advanced plane of existence. By saying that I am referring to how I am a Junior now, so I am a year older obviously, but I definitely am aware of how being that much older feels, whereas before I really didn't understand how I was any different from last year (birthday post). I think I'll keep finding out things about myself that I like or dislike. I could mention a few flaws that I've noticed about myself lately, but why concentrate on the negative? It honestly feels like I'm on a different level. I'm writing, doing, seeing things differently than I would have ever done; it's like I just upgraded from a regular television to high definition widescreen 'shit-your-pants' quality. God, I don't want to even think about life without college now- such an amazing opportunity to get to know yourself and find out who you are as long as you take the time required to do so.

(I recognize these paragraphs are a little longer than I try and write them normally. I figure people look at big blocks of text and run away.)

Do I feel good? Yeah, right now I do. I'm happy. I'm figuring stuff out as it comes up and I'm not worrying as much. There's no way a person could bring me down other than myself- I feel pretty unbeatable.

You may or may not notice some of these changes, but I assure you they're happening right under your noses. I am sly-er than I let on. Those close to me will know soon enough what I mean by this when I point out the patterns I've laid out, like the DaVinci code, but not. The evolution of Eric Ruelle is ongoing, I entreat you to take note.

Three years ago I applied for The Theater School at DePaul University; I was an actor who was brimming with possibilities from four other schools but I had always housed some hope that Lincoln Park, Chicago would be the place where I would end up. In December of the same year I went for an open house and was blown away by the city life I had been searching for after growing up in tiny Port Huron, Michigan. In February I had my audition. I remember practicing my piece in a hotel room on Diversey, pacing back and forth as my mother listened and constructively commented.

I've probably mentioned this before but there are some things I cannot write about in this blog. Either they're too personal or have too much to do with an individual that really doesn't deserve to be talked about in length, or the issue in question needs to be addressed to them in a more personal fashion.

 Having said that, I do have some concerns.

 I walk a fine line between my values for writing these blog posts and my utter need to feel like I am getting some of this out of my system. So I will write with much objectivity. What I write in my personal notebook though is a different story.

 For one, I need to stop saying "I've been thinking a lot lately," because while I do, it paints a negative light on the situation sometimes. I think a lot of good things too, actually- like thinking about memories that bring a smile to my face. Is thinking necessarily a bad thing? Perhaps when you think too much. Thinking can be compatible with the word "lingering." especially when it comes to something specific. Knowing how my mind works though, my mind is normally on shuffle. We'll table this discussion for now I guess.

 One day (less than 24hrs.) = VERY short time. Emphasis.

 There are a lot of things I do not know. But, I know I am a good guy who tries his best to treat everyone with respect. I go out of my way to help other people at personal cost without admitting to it all the time- it's in my nature to put others over myself. There is a level of caring I can provide that has yet to be fully utilized. I reflect and try to better understand what I have to offer in life. I am comfortable with my feelings; I can/will talk about them. I am honest. I listen. I yearn to learn. I think I have qualities that are admirable, I really do.

I believe that I am going to make someone so happy when given that opportunity.

 I can't assume ANYTHING. It's how I get myself in trouble by guessing what I do not know for fact.

 I can, in fact, predict the future- but I haven't wanted to lately.

1:45am
Wide awake.
The ceiling is white and studded.
Gotham City colors.
I wish the world was upside down.
So I could run my hand along.
To smooth out the roughness.

Dreams happen at night, sometimes on a bed with all the lights off, but this wasn't a dream- or at least I didn't think it was. It all seemed very real. The cushion of the mattress under which supported myself, pinned between it and a nearby dresser, and two others- one in the middle sitting up against the headboard and the other stretched across the bottom of a window pane that we all stared out of at the skyline of Chicago- was completely lost to me. The cushion molded so well to my body that the blankets were like jet streams keeping us aloft in midair as we simply enjoyed looking out over the city and talking silently, not to disturb the peaceful piece of mural art that we were staring at; though if one of us wanted, they could have easily acted as though they were taking a bite out of the Sears Tower, through proportion distortion, and used it for a profile picture on Facebook. Instead, we all laid there kind of in our own heads. I imagine that not everyone on the mattress was thinking about what the others were thinking like I was, but it was nice being partly in the moment nonetheless. 


For me, I have always liked looking at airplanes and wondering where they are coming from or going to- it kept me positive every day on the South Side of Chicago. When I saw a plane flying around Midway, it would remind me that the summer coming up would be the one where I would be on my way to experience Europe. But the planes flying about the sky in our time back on the mattress could have been coming from anywhere- Europe, Africa, Asia, you name it. And think, on every one of those flights could be around a hundred or so people. I was watching from such a great distance that the planes appeared to be close stars but I still noted the significance of the people on the flight and the people I was surrounding myself with to enjoy this moment Kodak would approve. It is amazing to me how I survived that long without them.

I wrote a poem during training. It was a sonnet that no one will read, ever. If they did read it during training, well, there's a reason why I write poetry at times like those. I'm not saying I planned it. But, I'm not stupid. It's not that it wasn't good or that I'm not proud of what I wrote, it's just that the feelings put into the poem were ones I need to voice elsewhere- a poem doesn't do it justice. Will I confront those impressions? Maybe, or not, let this be the start of the conversation.

The hard work is far from over but now is a moment where 'free-time' is a luxury and I am laying by the pool of my penthouse shrouded in shrubbery up on top of the Hollywood hills, metaphorically speaking.

I am an R.A. And as such, inherit the responsibilities of making door decorations and bulletin boards for the residents to appreciate or ignore. I have a nice place and enjoy the company around me- my team is amazing. But like I said, the work is far from over, and although my door decs and bulletin boards are finished, there aren't any residents here yet, and I have yet to start to do rounds where I do a walk through all of the halls. This is when the stress will heat up and I've only experienced a taste.

How's life? Good, I guess.

I am making adjustments. Now that I'm back in an environment I'm suited for and used to, my focus and thinking skills have sharpened, and it's helping put things in perspective and only I can know what that means.
_______________________________________________

A little less than a week left in Port Huron for a while. Maybe a week sprinkled about the months/years while I'm carrying on in Chicago; well that's the plan currently, if being a holiday and summer resident advisor work out.

Therefore, I'm not entirely certain this is my last summer in Port Huron, but I would like to say that I was (certain, that is).

There was never a large reason to come back to PoHo aside from my family and a few close friends, and while those may sound like huge reasons, the sting of living under the same roof as your parents and the stunted or sped up changes in friends' attitudes creates a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach- in a town where nothing ever changes, it's that feeling in coming home where everything is still pretty similar, but to you, the differences make a much larger statement than you anticipated.

As I keep getting older the more I feel like I'm ready to move on, and I am, barring those week long visits at max for the same reasons listed above.

I officially leave Port Huron on the 19th and will be returning to a city that has been exciting to me ever since I started college a few years ago. Chicago has been that second home for me and if it weren't for formalities Chicago would be my one and only. What I come back to will be different than it was these past few years for sure and it's both exciting and nerve-wracking.

Starting a position that carries with it a lot more responsibility, I think it's going to be a fun new challenge for me to face off against. The duties are abundant but the returns from those are a treat. Working with Freshman in a theater hall will play to my strengths and I am excited to be around like-hobbied people.

School will always be school to me- I've never been too intimidated with school, I do my work and seem to do fine. I'll continue to use the same methodology I have been for years for doing all that work. I don't plan to be too phased this quarter.

But priorities are priorities- and my job and school aren't the only ones on the list. I have myself to look out for too...

New theater opportunities await me and I can't wait to get on stage again to perform some of my pieces I've worked all summer on with my joint-venture partner John O. Look for the finished product sometime in early November hopefully.

My writing(s) is/are still important, and maintaining this blog is getting to be second nature to me now. It's something I like to do and if people read it, I might as well keep it interesting with new material. Plus I want to start all my new projects I've thought about this summer. One at a time more likely.

Friendships last year had to be put on the back-burner and it really made me sad to not be able to spend as much time with them as the year previous to it. This year though, I think being on campus for my position will help a lot (commuting the hour back and forth from Lincoln Park to Englewood always took a lot out of me) in getting back some of the friendships I missed most, and will encourage new ones with the many other RA's I'll be working with because I'll at least be around, if only to just meet for lunch or dinner around campus.

All of this, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm finally ready for something that I've struggled with over the years- being in a relationship. For years I've made excuses to get out of being in a relationship, and I never knew quite why, only that I hated myself for it. To deny myself of this happiness for so long has been a learning experience, and for whatever reason, it just feels right to me now- where before I felt as though I could never be the boyfriend you deserved, or that I wasn't good enough, or that it wasn't the right time, or that long distance relationships couldn't last; finally, I can say now that most of it doesn't bother me anymore and I'm going to give it my best, whatever worth that holds. That iron curtain I was hiding under has lifted and after being alone for so long, this summer traveling and through most of my life, I came to find that there was a hole that I didn't know needed filling until now...

...I can't say what's going to happen in the months ahead- because I haven't the slightest clue. There's so much for me to expect but the unexpected sure will make Fall 2010 an interesting time to be alive, and to be me.

In a little less than an hour, by the time I post this, I will be twenty years old, shedding the "teen" status for far greener pastures and heavier responsibilities, or so I would think.

Before today, I needed people to remind me this day was coming; when I was younger I'd get more excited for birthdays, but this one doesn't seem as dramatic. Yes, I can vote still. Yes, I can drive still. No, I still cannot legally drink alcohol (in the United States). So, I'm left in the same place as I was a year ago, aside from the stigma of being a teenager. My rights as a citizen certainly haven't changed much.

To not be a teen anymore is a big step. Granted, 19 is a high teen, but it fails in comparison to saying that you've been in the light for two decades. To me, it sounds like a big step.

This academic year will bring more responsibilities. It's not necessarily because I'm twenty, but I could look at it as being so- a year longer of experience conversing with others and figuring out what sort of person I am helps.

I'll just be graduating in two years and really had this summer left to saunter around at my leisure for the last time in a very long time- it's time to get my act right, I suppose. That's not a new goal to have but it's certainly more prominent now.

I just feel it's natural progression though that's making me do some of the things I do. I'm just stepping from one platform of existence to the other. No real humongous chasms I have to cross. It's only one year from 19 to 20.

What I'm trying to get at in this blog is that turning twenty is a plateau that carries with it some power, different than being called a teenager. In looking at it though, this year is more or less the same as the past few years after I turned 18.

21, may in fact, be the bigger year- and that sort of upsets me.

It's like those people who claim the new millennium didn't start in 2000, but on January 1st, 2001- do we really have to get down to the logistics? Just allow me to drink legally, let me get that status of an "adult" quicker; I have been waiting ever since I turned 18...and society makes us wait that long. What does a year really mean at this point anyway?

Preface: I love all of my relatives equally and while this post may seem slightly skewed toward one chip in a much larger bag, there are characteristics of each family member that make that individual special and by no means am I trying to discredit or lower the value of those invaluable tangible qualities.
End of Preface.

I love my grandmother Ruelle.

Close to eighty years old, she's always taken care of me, and I could never hope to reimburse her for all that she has done for me in only my twentieth year. My meager help around the house at various times throughout the year are put to shame by her day in and day out affection she doles out to our family and friends. Never have I met a kinder person, or a person that cherishes a long distance phone call like my grandmother, nor if I do, could ever they replace my grandmother's continuing lifetime of dedication. Even still, my immediate family comprised of my mother, sister, and father (son of my grandmother) have all been blessed with her presence far longer than I have, and can account for their own stories of her dedication to an individual's personal pursuits and character building.

It was my grandmother who made my dad's life progression possible, not slowing him down when the opportunity came to work and travel cross-country with his friend, essentially making this blog possible in the scheme of things. I am absolutely certain that there are more people out there who were touched, like this, by the qualities my grandmother has, than I will ever know about.

Unquantifiable, is the number of memories shared in the house upon the beach and so many more are shared, set, and scattered about in different locations. Ask me about them, and it may sound something like this:

Bored and alone at a far younger age I would sit in my grandparents living room watching cartoons and when confronted about my subsequent lack of activity my response was usually that there was simply nobody to play with. I'd like to point out at this point that these were the '90's so it was okay back then for her to say "well go outside and find somebody." My grandmother is the only person in my family that when any signs of boredom are shown, chores wouldn't be given, which may have been part of the reason why I was over at their home so much as a child. I was spoiled a great deal, and still am by my grandmother.

It was this proactive spirit of going out and finding somebody to play with that I will always remember and try to live by, with the same tenacity as my grandmother does. Every time I visit her she always seems to have more energy than me- which is either amazing or really sad on my part. Nike may have started using the "Just do it" ad campaign in 1988 but it was my grandmother who popularized it in our household. Mixed with her politician-like fist pump she fires back, "just do it," and whether or not you want to, you always end up feeling compelled to do it.

I'd like to think my grandmother knows me better than any other living being in this universe. She knows what kind of food I like (my belly throughout the years has been full of mac n cheese), all my strengths and weaknesses, and so much more.

I bring all this up because I went over to my grandparents house this morning and got into a long conversation with my grandmother about all that's troubling me...and I mean "all." For the first time in a very long time I was able to say EVERYTHING I wanted to say, and have it mean something to someone.

I'm tired of having pseudo-conversations, if you know what I mean.

Normally, I'm the one asking all the questions. It was so refreshing to have the roles reverse. My grandmother genuinely cares about me, one of the few women to have done so, and I just really appreciated the time I spent with her today venting and expressing all the little hiccups going on in my head.

Because the truth is, I am nervous about a lot of stuff. I don't talk to my parents about half the things I do or how I feel, so to have a person like my grandmother in my life to share and talk with at this point is truly amazing. For her to be able to comprehend and give me advice is more than I could have asked for.

Sure, I have certain friends that I talk about this material with- we swap stories and share in our self deprecating jokes. And sure, we try and give each other advice to our worldly problems, but for me, it's only sound advice when my grandmother says, "Just do it."

I'd like to reiterate my opening statement and say that I love my grandmother Ruelle.

I couldn't wait to get out of middle school.

And I definitely couldn't wait to get out of high school.

By the end of high school I had fallen in to what I can best describe as a stereotyped version of myself. This may be a new concept but I'm pretty sure everyone's felt it at one point.

I can safely say my experience at the World Scholar Athlete Games in the summer of '06 was as true to me as I could possibly be. I showed off every quality that I would want to be remembered with, which is part of the reason I still maintain good relations with friends from there that I haven't seen since, and that was four years ago. The people that I met there really saw the side of me that's rarely seen in public everywhere else. Also, I feel like IRHA '10 was another breakthrough time for me because I seemed to get out of this inherent method of internalizing things and show off my outgoingness and spirit.

In both those places I knew very little people (at WSAG I didn't know anyone) and they were in a location that was unfamiliar to me. These seeming hindrances highlight some of my greatest strengths and I could express them because of that. My fellow DePaul IRHA crew could probably attest to the difference in what I was before the conference to how I was during it, and then what I retained after I left.

My personality and character is adapting or evolving, everyone's is at different paces, and I'll admit mine is changing relatively slow, which isn't a bad thing- it's not like I'm having mood swings.

But when I'm in a place like high school or college for some period of time I feel like I fall into a routine, or this "stereotyped version of myself," so that when I try and express or do something that is out of the ordinary, people look at it like a hiccup, when it's really just a sign of my evolving character. Spontaneity, to me, is advancement of character being revealed. An example might help:

I used to and am starting to write stand-up comedy again; I've performed four or five times in my life, which isn't a lot, but I'm willing to give it more of my time. Back in high school I was a pretty shut-in kind of person. I had a close-knit group of friends but wasn't so extroverted towards other people. I'd follow the rules, up until a certain point, and kind of was known for being a certain way. If I had been in a group of people in my class and we had gotten off topic and I had made a dirty joke, people were shocked- and instead of laughing, where normally it would be appropriate, they would just look at me like I had just spoken in jibberish. This spontaneous joke was me trying to show my extroverted side to other people.

Now, I'm not saying college is like high school, but I am saying that I feel like I'm starting to fall into a place where people will start expecting me to keep within ways I normally act, and it's a little unfair.

As an RA I'm now expected to have a higher standard of how I conduct myself and obviously I have no problem with complying with this policy because a lot of what I already am coincides with these clauses but I hope that I won't have to abandon any part of me that is quintessential to me.

Growing up is a grooming process, but after all these snips and cuts away at deemed inappropriate qualities I want to maintain the core essence of who I am and not become a bot who acts like everyone else all the time. Those at IRHA and WSAG know what kind of person I'm capable of being all the time- I'm not there yet. Watch for those spontaneous moments, I'm tellin' ya. Often times I'll think about doing something and not do it, but I think I'm going to try and be more willing to say and do these things.

Cheers to becoming a better me.

I have twenty minutes to write and it's twenty minutes I'm going to use to the best of my ability while both my laptop and iPod charge for this journey to the other side of Ireland, to wait for a plane to take off tomorrow, to take me back to the States, where I won't get back home until very late that same night. It's here, folks.

Like the before mentioned departure date from Port Huron, the departure date from Ireland has sort of snuck up on me. Not that I didn't know it was there, just that I've been busy doing other things to bother with it. But I can do that no longer.

So I leave. What happens when I get home?

I would hope my friends would have this date marked in their calendars with circles around it and arrows pointing to it as if to mark its significance; however, while I don't know the value in this long awaited return it's perhaps me who has been making the circles and drawing in the arrows because for forty-three days now I have been completely on my own aside from the very few times that I was with people I knew.

Over in Europe I had to find my way pretty much, forge ahead alone, and I got to admit- it was hard and sometimes painful to keep forcing myself forward. Would I have seen more with another person? Would I have experienced less?

Loneliness is an all too familiar feeling and it's documented in this blog. It is a motif in my life and it comes and goes in various forms. I am slobbering over the opportunity to really focus in on this subject, possibly in a future play I will write (it's definitely not going to be in the next few months, but I will leave it on the shelf and pick it up later).

I will go home. I will see the people I only got to see a few times in between college and this trip and I'm hoping for glorious things. And it doesn't need to be glorious as in magical to anybody else but me...a simple get together with a movie on discussing pop culture would be considered glorious to me at this point.

I only have a few weeks before I leave for college again, and then it's off for who knows how long. I want to be a holiday RA, meaning I'd spend a majority of my time in Chicago, added to the fact I want to be a summer RA I would be basically be living in Chicago year round from when I start school again until I graduate hopefully. This leaves a fine predicament for the friends back home.

Growing up you have to deal with things like this but up until now I haven't really. There have been a few friends, over the course of a long time, who have faded away and others who I haven't seen in years and have been able to keep really good contact with, but are my friends and I ready for this?

There's very little chance, noting the number of times this has happened, that they'll come and visit. Maybe once an academic year (if I'm lucky).

I want to stay in Chicago or go to LA or New York. They are back in Michigan and I'm unsure of their plans.

It's life happening in front of your eyes and if I had more time to type I'd keep doing it...but for a later date the conclusion will be written maybe

Hey blog, you look good. You've got some rust on ya, but nothing a little polish and shine with newly written material can't help make you more appealing to the female blogs.

So yes, I'm writing again; it's not like I stopped, but I'm back in the business of writing on this. And no, I'm not quite home yet, but in 2 days I will be. I'm writing this from my hostel, which I'll be checking out of in a little less than 10 hrs. The rest of the day will be spent at the Comedy Carnival and trying to get my last bit of Dublin in before I head to Shannon Airport to fly home the next day.

I'm not going to write anything about my trip on this blog...I'll be writing that elsewhere. It's book material, just sayin'.

Well, short post tonight...just to get the feel for it again. Won't add another for a while probably because I have to get home, get over jet lag, and catch up on a life I haven't been a apart of for a while

Okay, it's here now. C'mon Eric accept it- accept the fact that in mere hours you'll be heading to the airport for the first leg of your journey; a journey that will lead you across two continents, seven countries, and a variety of other intangibles.

But I can't.

It's hard to look down the mouth of an adventure and tell what's waiting for you once you plunge yourself into it. I have no choice but to grit my teeth, lower my right shoulder, and plow into it with all I've got.

I leave for Cairo, Egypt at 3:15am for a 6:00am flight. It will be the longest day of my life because I don't get to Cairo until 12pm the following day.

I don't know how much I'll update this blog, already I've begun work on a journal and that will be my primary place to put down what's happened to me. Check my Facebook for the most up to date stuff. I can't tell how often I'll touch that either.

I'll miss all of you, the ones who are most likely to read this. Take good care of yourselves and be safe. I imagine we'll see each other again soon whether that be back in Port Huron or in Chicago and we'll have lots to share. Know I look forward to this moment almost as much as my entire trip. Friends sometimes become like family and after saying goodbye to some of my friends last night, and most of my family today, it's all pretty heavy for me to be away and alone for that long.

Send me your prayers, well wishes, or what-have-you because I'll need them. Keep in touch please. Leave me messages on my Facebook wall and I'll write you back. This is going to be a ridiculous time in my life and like I've said before many good things will come from it. Don't let one of the drawbacks be losing touch with some of you.

I wish I had a better conclusion, but I don't.

Always,
Eric

I went out to lunch with my friends today and got a fortune cookie. Inside it read: "Get your mind set...Confidence will lead you on."

As earlier posts would suggest, I am a pretty superstitious person. I may not believe in my horoscope but I definitely look at them and try and attribute it to my life, or try and rebuke it. Strangely, the fortune cookie has some relevance to my situation in getting ready for Europe.

I am nervous and I think it's been clear to the people I've talked to about the trip. There's so much for me to plan myself that at times I think its over my head. Confidence is definitely something I need going into Monday morning. Truthfully, I believe I'm going to be fine and since I'm such an independent person already I can combine that with my resourcefulness to at least survive the 43 days.

Short post today- long day of packing, visiting, and planning tomorrow. Interesting.

Bee-tee-dubs:
I'm going to do great things one day, things that I am proud of and love doing; I'm beginning to see what lies ahead of me and I'm excited. I'm excited to share this with all of you. A lot can happen in the two years I still have left in undergrad...stay tuned.

I'm feeling frisky today, why not do two posts at one time; it's my blog, I do what I want. That, and I feel that last blog was uninteresting.

Chicago won the Stanley Cup. Just making sure you knew, if you hadn't heard already from the thousands of "supporters" around Chicago. Props to those that were actually fans before they started televising the games a few years ago, you deserved this win.

I think Chicago is a crazy city, like, literally mentally disturbed on some level. There's the good, bad, and turrrible; I've experienced all of this.

I felt guilty on the way home from Chicago because my parents stopped at a BP gas station; however, the gas was ten cents cheaper and it wasn't full of people like the one across the street. Either way, I hope all of that money is going towards helping clean up that mess- doubt it though. Was watching the news today and it said that BP was a 9 billion dollar industry last year. How does this happen? When does a company stop caring about the customers? Is it as soon as they start making money?

I bet if I didn't post a link on my facebook every other blog everyone would forget about it.

That's another thing. I have been in a piss-poor mood lately and have no clue why, and it's mostly just me putting myself down. What am I gonna do when I'm in Europe and only have myself to keep me company? Oh the inner monologues that will come about.

Every time I drive my van I appreciate it that much more. Not only does it have a couch in the back, but an inner tube, and countless other surprises. You Chicagoans know nothing of the joy of riding in my van; shame.

Everyone should visit Port Huron once in their life, I've decided. I think you should come between July 27th and August 18th, just sayin'.

What's going to happen when Paris Hilton dies? Will the media apologize for all that it's done to help further her career but at the same time ruin it? Will the media ever be apologetic for anything? I have a growing distrust of anything with a live microphone and an outlet to reach millions of people at once- but that's just me.

Do people really care about what's going on in my life when I write these blogs? I wrote an entire research paper on blogs and still haven't come to a conclusion on that. It's like, people write these blogs for a few different reasons: (1) to further their interest in something, (2) to deal with issues that a person is facing, (3) to try and convince people of something, or (4) to recount experiences. What does the reader get out of these kind of blogs I'm writing? It's not like I'm saying any of my deepest darkest secrets like the fact, that yes, I did go to a Britney Spears concert in the summer going into 5th grade and actually enjoyed myself, and yes, I have a fear that I'm never good enough or I'll never be happy enough to ever be considered a true optimist; I'm very hopeful that things work out but there's always that little itch. By the way, if I'm to continue this brief honesty of the moment, if you have any question, and I mean ANY question go ahead and ask me. Comment on this blog and I will answer any question, straight up. This blog only though...don't go to the one before this and ask me a question, I will ignore it. Furthermore, if you don't feel like asking me through this find me on my social networking sites and ask; this is legit people. I am not getting a formspring account

Song I had cranked in my van while driving down the street of Port Huron:

How I didn't know that I was going to be gone for 43 days completely boggles my mind. I knew that I was going to be in Europe for a while, but 43 days? I had to count the number today and was pretty shocked to find the actual number. Oh well I guess,...there's no reason not to go for that long...aside from the money issue.

I originally planned to take "x" amount of dollars to Europe. It was a fair number and I thought I had enough to spend. My mind was opened when I took the number of days (43) and divided it from "x" and found that my daily living expenses would be very, very low.

It's safe to say that it's a good thing I did most of my financial stuff today because by 4:00pm I still had some left to do and without tomorrow to finish, Saturday and Sunday would have marked the days where banks are closed and I'd be left without a cent.

I rolled coins for an hour or so with my parents on the living room floor. I then took those coins to TCF where I found the only way I can get money for the coins is if I run it through a change machine, so pretty much all that effort in rolling coins was in vain; at least I knew roughly how much money would come from just the coins. At TCF I got traveler's checks and almost cleaned my account out. At E&A I did just that by closing that account and getting more traveler's checks for my trip.

It's safe to say that financial issues may prove to be an issue over in Europe, but we'll see. There's nothing I can do now but to be smart about how and what I spend my money on. As my mother graciously put, "It's not like he's old enough to drink and go to the bars for hours." While I am old enough to drink throughout Europe I got her point that I won't be spending a majority of my time in pubs, but I won't count them out completely haha.

My mom woke me up at noon this morning when i could have easily slept past 1pm. I'm not upset about that part; I'm upset at the way she chose to go about waking me up.

She walked in the room, over to my window and said, "It's 12 o'clock. I want you to put your clothes away. You still have a lot to do."

No response from me whatsoever, but I was awake, just laying there letting feeling return to my body.

"Now, Eric, don't wait until your father gets home."

Well, before I was just about to turn twenty years old, the threat of having my dad come home to find me lazing around the house without having done what my mother told me to do frightened the fuck out of me; no boy wants to disappoint his father and be lectured on respect and responsibility and be docked on merit.

But today, after my mother said it, I laid back down and thought about it for a half hour. My mom has used this trick throughout my entire life but I'm surprised she used it after I've been living in a different state for two years on my own, but I suppose she forgot in that instance. Normally, after ten or so minutes, she'd come back and try and wake me up again but today she didn't. I think she realized at the same time I did that I don't need to be threatened to get my chores done around the house anymore; I've dealt with responsibility and know my role in the house and exactly what I need to do for myself. I don't need someone breathing down my back to figure out logical steps, it's just insane to think that by this point in my life I would still need that type of guidance.

Either way, dad found out a way to lecture/yell at me about something today. My friends were coming over and I hadn't done the dishes (which I wasn't aware of until he told me)...apparently I missed the one essential thing that has to be done in order for my friends to come; my friends, who come over every other night it seems when I'm home and have seen the house in much worse condition. Sometimes, I just don't understand my father and what he's trying to teach me or mold me into. I've already become so much like him that I hope there's some room left for me to be me.