Chalk it up to nervous angst but life either way has accelerated even more since I got home from Chicago. I turned in my finals like a good student and the packing and moving was done in one day, though I'm still putting things back in order at home (at least the way my parents want them to be).

Five days. Five days. Only five until I will leave the country with only a backpack full of stuff to last me a week plus a month. Just let that soak in; how would it make you feel? I've been given a grand opportunity to do this whole thing but don't think for a second I am entitled to this and that because of my parents I'm able to go on this trip; I've gotten that reaction and it really bothers me because I'm so young they think I haven't done much that merits a trip like this.

True, my parents are letting me gallivant across Europe but they in no way paid for my trip, their involvement includes picking me up and dropping me off from the airport. I have had a job since I was a freshman in high school and was good about saving my money up in order to do something of this magnitude. And yes, I did have parents that helped me with necessary costs along the way but it's something that everyone can do if they work hard enough for it, and I believe I did.

I leave for Cairo, Egypt on the 14th and arrive there the 15th. I will stay in Cairo until the 20th and have a nineteen hour layover in Athens on my way to Madrid, Spain. From there I will travel to Barcelona, Marseilles, Paris, Rome, London, Dublin, and fly out of Shannon, Ireland on the 26th of July. Those are the dates of the trip and stops I want to hit.

I will be traveling alone. I will be very lonely and am already starting to feel the effects of not having anybody to share this experience with. I am a lot sad but I hope it can do wonders for my writing. I already have a screenplay in the works that I'm hoping to send in to be reviewed. The story, I think, is pretty good and I'm just brimming with anticipation to get writing it. Other than that I'm going to be writing 2-minute plays to add to my repertoire so when the time comes that I get an audition or someone wants to see what I'm made of I'll have those at hand. There are so many things that are going to come out of this trip.

Summer will seem shorter at home. I'm not all too sad. I still get to see everyone and spend a great deal of time with them. Relaxation has got to be a top priority when I get back from Europe, ya know the kind, the lazy couch potato maybe-do-some-door-decs kinda thing, right? Who knows.

I believe my bed time has been reached. I really want to say that I miss all of you back in Chicago and I hope the people who are reading this in Port Huron will make an effort to contact me to hangout. I really have so little time left it's hard to plan all this stuff around yours and my free time.

PS- Dear So and So:
       I don't know
       if you're reading this
       but I sincerely miss
       all that little time we spent
       together, but know it meant
       all the world to me so as I
       set sail for new horizons
       know that you'll be on my mind
       while I write and walk from place to place
       no sooner will I forget your face because
       everywhere I go is like a postcard-
       "I wish you were here"

-Eric

This is a poem I wrote for Immediate Poetry Writing...I wrote it in 10 mins...I understand the quality suffered. It's in the form "litany."

Fate Makes

Fate makes the birds fly south
              and the fish swim upstream.
Fate makes wars possible,
              but what about peace?
Fate makes two lovers separate
               only to do it two-fold.
Fate makes this poem seem like an eternity,
               whereas lives are kept strictly to an hourglass.
Fate makes the food chain possible
               and my life expendable.

Fate makes children be born with mental disorders.
Fate makes fools of us all because
Fate makes believers out of false destinies and
Fate makes these promises without any regard;
Fate makes and breaks the rules.

This is why I don't believe in fate.

Another poem from my Intermediate Poetry Writing class...it's a blank verse poem

Corner of Normal and Stewart (60621)
Fear of death is natural at nineteen,
we can't grasp what life offers luckier
patrons of this once in a lifetime fest.
So when attacked by five muggers who beat,
break, and steal- better to be safe than dead.

Never saw it coming, thought I was safe,
underneath this safety net cast by my
"dream" job on the South Side of Chicago;
I only liked it for the money though.
I told myself I'd quit if I got hurt.

Physically, when I hit the concrete,
with my face, held down by a sole who could
barely begin to empathize with the
cowering being underneath if it;
bruises, cuts, and sore skin formed on my head.

Emotionally, my trust dwindled. Now,
I can't walk down the street without thinking
that man is going to do the same. Swipe arms,
time to run, get met with reinforcements,
not a second to think, moments to act.

Shock is hard to absorb so keep your wits
sharper than the knife they may pull and don't
carry all you love in one case, it's much
easier to lose in one incident.
Fear itself is good to avoid getting killed.

This is an English Sonnet I wrote for Intermediate Poetry Writing Class


Dear Sister,

I can honestly say that you test my
Endurance to tolerate a sibling.
Fourteen years, seemingly is a long time
Without understandings on anything.
I remember our younger days when we
Climbed mountains made of stairs just to let go.
We'd spread our arms when it was windy,
Believing we could fly. Nothing to show.
That was short lived and arguing became
Games we both wanted to win. Our lives
Were made unbearable, it was a shame
Neither of us ever apologized.
I'm glad now we're working through it; truth be,
A better man is what you have made me.

I love you sis,
Eric


Again, first draft stuff...hope you enjoyed

I didn't want to dirty another page in my notebook with pen so I forged ahead and wrote a blog instead.

I caught my last thought before I went to sleep and tried to let it go.

Then, I awoke this morning and there it was again, as if haunting me for an unforeseeable reason. So I shut my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, to escape, which happened pretty successfully; however, I remember during my slumber I shrieked, but I couldn't control it, I was having a nightmare of sorts; I can just vaguely pick out pieces that were familiar.

Of course, the thought was about "you," and no I'm not talking about you, "you" is more of an abstraction, unless the "you" I'm referring to is indeed reading this, then indeed the "you" really is you; but I would have no way of knowing if "you" will ever read this and will truly understand that it's about you, because honestly how many you's are there in this world? Without naming names.

"You" inspire me to write shitty poetry because there aren't enough moments to pull from, just flashes of scenes from a poorly written movie that nobody wants to see, all sewn together to create a mosaic of film strips lined alongside each other that with a flick of a switch can spark, burn to a crisp, and enable me to forget. I can't help but look to it for creative inspiration while it lasts.

Tonight, I'll go to bed again knowing what awaits, the thought. I'll try to shut off that part of my brain that conjures up demons so I may sleep in peace, but I know I can't; because all "you" have been to me is a dream, once vivid, slowly decaying, waiting for that fateful spark.

another poem from my Intermediate Poetry Writing class...

I'm stuck without a fully functioning spacebar on my laptop keyboard because I spilled Pepsi on it. I had a poem due on Monday for my poetry class and didn't have anything to write about and I was on a deadline so I wrote a haiku about the incident. Enjoy.

Greasy Haiku
Fucking waffle fries,
you made my hands all greasy.
My drink lay close by.

A foreshadowing:
I never asked for fries. You
are God-damn evil.

You killed my precious.
Took her down in her prime, I'm
lost without her here.

The drink slipped. Regret.
Her blue screen would fill my dark
room and heart; no more.

Rest in peace laptop.


That's my poem hurrah. I have to revise all these poems by the end of the quarter so I may put my final drafts on here or not, you may just have to be content with the bad ones.

I had two different assignments from two different classes and I was able to morph one idea into fitting them both.

This is my Screenwriting assignment; I had to write about an emotional event and I chose to do it on my first kiss.

The Beach

She was wearing watermelon lip gloss. I was nervous.
We were surrounded by trees, a path of sand leading down to the beach.
She had her hands behind her back. I had mine folded across my chest.
We stood with our legs shoulder width apart about an arm's length apart from each other.
She would smile at me and then glance at the ground. I would glance at her and then would look at the breaking waves and stars, the moon partially blocked by the leaves and branches of the tallest tree.
We would catch our eyes looking at the other's.
She had an enticing perfume on. I probably should have worn more antiperspirant.
We weren't oblivious to what the other was thinking.
She thought I was thinking that I was in over my head. I thought she was thinking that she couldn't give me any more hints.
We were young and facing easier problems then.
She took a step forward. I took my right hand and put it just above her left hip and my right hand went to the back of her right shoulder blade to pull her close.
No, that's not what I did. That's what I should have done. I took a step forward instead.
We found each other at the perfect time in our lives.
I leaned forward, lips slightly closed. She leaned forward, lips slightly open.


This is my poem I wrote for Intermediate Poetry Writing and it was a little harder because the professor had a few guidelines you had to follow for the poem. So, I took the same concept and molded it into this poem:


State Park
My still frame        memories
                            hang on me,
weighing my body
                            down  
where the pictures of good times are kept.

We were surrounded
                            by the pine trees
and caught by our own eyes
                            and our innocence
which made us feel free to explore.

It was my first time,
                            though I believe
it was your first time,
                            our lips knew
we should have stayed in that moment forever,
we should have stayed in that moment forever.

I never thought I'd find a love that's true.
I never thought I'd make it to eighty,
Fully out of ways to say "I love you."
My metaphors are old and frail like me;
Cute ways I used to make you smile,
Are as exhausted as my simile's.
Without more ways to keep you beguiled,
I hope you keep in mind I'm still in love,
Forever and after was my promise.
You're still beautiful like when you were young;
I'm still longing to kiss those faded lips.
She has glaucoma and I have cancer
Our hospital beds lie next to each other

*I performed this poem during "S(H)e Loves Me/S(H)e Loves Me Not." It's not a perfect sonnet but it works...more parts of the play will be posted soon!

BONUS HAIKU:
What makes a haiku?
Just seventeen syllables?
It is a cop out.
What about structure?
Why can you go on with the
Same thought but new line?
What is to stop it?
Oh haiku, you confuse me.
But you make time pass.
In History class.