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.