A Confusion-wracked Heart

I chuckle when I look back and realize how many entries have dealt with Erin to some degree; perhaps I should have named this journal "Love Chronicles of a College Boyo" or something. Now that I think about it, I should have just put "Boy" in the place of "Guy" in the title; at least that would be a bit more accurate along some lines. However, that is another topic for another time. I digress.

I think it was last Friday (December 26th) or Saturday (December 27th) when I went to a Hershey High School Girls' varsity basketball game. The team lost, but that was of little importance. Attending sporting events usually turns out like going to the movies with your girlfriend (From what I have heard but have yet to experience); all that you do is talk or screw around instead of watching what you paid money to see. Anyways, the usual suspects, Steve, Allison, Brandon, Meghan, and Erin, showed up because it was the "big event" of the week for us.

We talked for a while, and when the game ended (The varsity team lost horribly), we were still sitting around on the bleachers. I was talking with Brandon about Meghan's attitude when Steve turned around and told me that the Christmas present I had given to Erin was too big. I gave him a questioning look, and he went into detail. Basically, I did not realize that the hoodie I had given Erin was an extra large, and while Allison made a joke about how I might be suggesting that Erin is too fat, I continued talking to Steve. Why had she not spoken to me about the hoodie? Why did she need to tell Steve about this issue when he had nothing to do with it at all? And what size did she want? Steve was still talking when I motioned to him to not talk anymore and I called Erin over to us.

After a quick discussion, I re-learned something that I had known all along: Erin prefers kindness over honesty. She thought that I would take offense to asking her to return the hoodie when that is not the case at all. I would take offense if she used the hoodie to make her dog's bed or something like that, but returning it because she wanted a small or medium is nothing to take offense to. I gave her a chuckle and told her that it was no problem at all.

It was not until very early Wednesday morning (December 31st) that I actually got the hoodie back. The story behind its return is that Steve called me up at 11:30 PM on Tuesday night (December 30th) to tell me that Erin was coming over to his house because it might be the last time that we could see her before she went back to college. Upon sneaking into Steve's basement, Steve, Allison, and I sat and watched some television for a bit before Erin showed up. We all sat around for a good 45 minutes talking about all sorts of things, and shortly after Erin left, Steve told me that he was taking Allison home very shortly. Before I had a chance to walk up the stairs, he told me that Erin's hoodie was in the back of his car... and that there was a note in the pocket.

Upon hearing that there was a note, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end even though I kept my cool. My mind raced trying to think about what was written on it, and asking Steve or Allison if they had read the note produced only a sharp "No." I walked out of the house, found the hoodie in the back seat of Steve's car, felt for a note, and quietly got into my car to drive off. I thought about reading the note right then and there in Steve's driveway, but I refrained from doing so; if I was going to cry, I wanted to do so in the privacy of my room. Besides, I had waited for months for any sort of response from Erin, so waiting a few more minutes to read it was going to be no big deal.

That was the longest eight minutes of my life.

I got into my room, shut the door, and sat down to read the note. The first thing I saw was Erin's address at her school (She had asked me multiple times if she should pay for shipping charges, but I told her I would despite my meager monetary reserves), and I thought that that was all that the note was. However, above that, I saw something else written, and unfolding the entire paper revealed a letter. This is a written copy of the letter:

Dear Eric,
You are an amazing person. I am so greatful that We have gotten the opportuinty to become friends. Thank you so much for all that you have done for me over the past couple years. Thank you for my sweatshirt. I love it. and I will wear it forever. Eric I hope that we will be friend for a long time. I hope you have a great rest of your vacation and a safe trip back to school. I hope you have a great semester Good luck
Love
Erin

Side note: Erin wrote the letter with a pen that could have used some more ink. There may have been some more punctuation marks in the appropriate places, but I cannot see them.

Comments regarding proper grammar and spelling as well as the state of the American public school system aside, I am fucking confused.

Specifically, I am confused about the sentence that reads "Eric I hope that we will be friend for a long time." Yes, I realized that she intended to say "friends" instead of "friend," but that is not what the confusion is about. What I am confused about is the exact meaning of the sentence. Does she mean "Eric, I just want to be friends forever and never let our relationship become anything more than what it is currently" or does she mean "Eric, let's be friends for now and see what happens in the summer"?

Looking deeper at the interpretations of those meanings, the former suggests that she never wants to be anything beyond friends. While I am sure that she may have no problem with that, I am not concerned about a return on any sort of emotional investment in her, but rather, the fact that any such words would fall on deaf ears. Actually, not deaf ears. Ears that would listen very closely to what I have to say, but a mind that would possibly not reconsider anything along what I had thought. Basically, she would never let the opportunity for us to get together, even as boyfriend and girlfriend, a chance, and... I am not sure what would happen. On an emotional level, I would probably be a walking disaster and serious thoughts about suicide (Jugular veins in the neck with a sharp object) would become very likely. On a physical level, I am not sure what I would do. I have given that a lot of thought, and I think I would probably want to hit something to the point that I began breaking my bones and bleeding all over the place, yet I would probably continue to show everyone teeth and let them believe that I am not being tortured by a pain that hurts far more than mere broken bones.

Like I said before, perhaps self-destruction is the answer.

The latter interpretation suggests that I have a chance, but this interpretation seems to hang more on the "a long time" segment of the sentence in question. As I look back on the rest of the letter, I cannot discard the rest of it as mere fluff meant to convey appreciation and nothing more, especially when I read the "and I will wear it forever" sentence. I am not talking about the sentence's meaning since I already know that she really likes the hoodie quite a lot, but rather, the usage of the word "forever." I am not about to start going off on literal and figurative definitions of the word, but it is basically an indefinite period of time. Yet, with the sentence that was in question in the first place, she wrote "a long time", which suggests a definite period of time. Determining the rough length of "a long time" is impossible; it could mean a few hours or even a few years, and perhaps even more or less than those periods of time. However, it is not forever, and this is a good thing.

I am betting on the latter interpretation, but something like this makes me wish that I had not promised to discuss having a serious relationship with Erin until next summer. At this point, I want to walk up to her and be very straightforward with her. I want to see what she has to say about the letter, about her feelings regarding me, and the likely path that this will take both of us. I want to know if my passionate feelings for her are a waste of time or were met with equally passionate feelings from her. However, my desire to stick to my word is more important to me than my anticipation to see the outcome of this whole situation.

And before the letter finished, she threw me another curve ball, or at least, something I interpret as a curve ball (Perhaps I am looking too deeply into some of this, but I do not think so). I am referring to the use of the word "Love" in the closing. Now, there are two ways to look at it: the common usage of the word or Erin's usage of the word. I am not trying to degrade the manner in which Erin commonly words her own sentence, but I have noticed that she is more apt to use "extreme" words like "love" and "hate" rather than "like" or "dislike." Perhaps it is me, but I feel that the use of words like "love" and "hate" should be infrequently used, thus adding to their meaning and importance when they are used. And perhaps it is the Mormon style that Erin was raised in, but she liberally uses (To me) both words quite often, and it is not uncommon to hear her say something like "Oh, I love him/her to death" when they are merely friends and there is no desire behind those words to actually love (Again, my meaning) the person. I mean, Erin does love me... as a friend, and this is not in the same manner that I literally love her. Hence, my confusion; do I interpret her usage of the word "Love" in the vernacular or in the manner that she commonly uses it?

And thus, confusion still torments the lovestruck heart of a college guy. Yeah, "Guy" seems far more appropriate now than "Boy."

Love Washes Over

I do not know why I carry some of the emotional weight and stress that is resulting from Meghan and Brandon's squabbling, but I do. Perhaps it is just a sign that I truly care about which direction their relationship takes.

From Art of Trance - Love Washes Over
Love washes over,
cleansing my soul.

Have you ever woken up from a short nap and felt far more refreshed than after waking up from sleeping for a day? Have you ever ran for miles on end, pain shooting through your legs, sweat running into your eyes, and felt the sweetness of victory as you crossed the finish line? Have you ever finished watching a movie or anime and felt a smile grow on your face just because the ending was so fitting and happy?

I felt something better than all of those combined.

Allow me to fill in some background. On the day that Steve and I were to leave Pitt and head back home, I sold the books for my US & The Holocaust and World Music class, and got back $45 (On another note, Steve sold two books and got back $55, but he must have spent a fortune on those books). Minutes after selling the books, I walked into the Pitt Store, took a good twenty minutes to find the best hoodie, and spent $40 on it.

And then, I proceeded to walk out of the store with a big grin on my face.

Almost two weeks later (Rather, yesterday night), I handed Erin her Christmas gift. Her initial reaction was to give me a big hug, and then we spent a good fifteen minutes talking about all sorts of things: Meghan's idiotic fighting with Brandon, winter break, college, and friends. Basically, the usual. Then she looked over at the present I had given her, made it clear that she was sorry that she did not have a gift to give me (That probably would have made my Christmas complete, but I did not really sweat over it), and asked if she should open her present in front of me.

And for only a moment, time stopped, my imagination roamed, and my thoughts followed my feelings.

For that brief period of time (Less than a second) before I responded, I imagined a dream coming true. I reached out to Erin, took her hand, and pulled her into a soft hug. I spoke softly into her ear, telling her all about how much I cared about her and how I did not want to let go of her. I kissed her tenderly, feeling a mutual white-hot passion surge through our lips like an electrical current. We both slowly fell to the floor of her dining room, continuing to smooch one another and letting our tongues explore the other's mouth to such an extent that even a dentist could not fathom. Gradually, we disrobed each other one piece of clothing at a time, and although our eyes said that both of us were simultaneously frightened, nervous, and exhilarated, we made sweet loving. And when we were done, I rested my sweat-beaded brow against her forehead, looked into her beautiful eyes, and saw that both of us had found our nirvana and the love of our lives.

And as quickly as it had come, the moment had vanished. "Erin, I leave that option entirely up to you," I told her, a small grin appearing on the left side of my mouth and muscle contractions creating a dimple on my cheek.

She carefully unwrapped her gift and was pleasantly surprised to find that she now had a new hoodie. Unbeknownst to me, Erin likes hoodies quite a lot. "Thank you, Eric," she said to me, slowly turning to look at me, "Now I can be cool just like everyone else!" Her comment caught me off guard and it took me a moment to recognize that it was sarcasm (Something that she almost never uses). I politely chuckled and merely told her, "You're cool already, with or without the hoodie." She then hugged me again for the gift, and then we talked some more about what we would be doing on Christmas and for the rest of break. With exception for Christmas dinner at 1:30 PM, I have nothing on my schedule, and she was eager to hang out with "the gang" (Seeing as how she is acquaintances and friends with a lot of people, I took "the gang" to mean Brandon, Meghan, Steve, Allison, and myself) on the day after Christmas. Yet, she said that she had nothing to do on Christmas day except for unwrapping gifts and dinner (Christmas dinner, I find more often than not, is more like a lunch because of the time, but is a dinner simply because of what it consists of), so I told her that she should come over to Brandon's house sometime during the day; Mr. Arce promised that he was going to make Cuban food and a lot of it, and I pity anyone who never has a chance to eat Mr. Arce's delicious food (His food is so outstanding that many people have told him that he should to open his own restaurant). Erin's face lit up (More than before) when I mentioned that she should come for the good food and company, and she only asked that I call her to tell her when I was going over.

Noticing that some of her family was arriving (It was about 9:30 PM, and I guess they were coming in from New York), Erin hugged me a third time and we parted with smiles on our faces.

While I was driving back to my house, I mulled over a question regarding that moment: was it born out of an animalistic id or passionate feelings for Erin? I thought about the former for a bit. If that "dream" had come from some animalistic desire for sex regardless of the woman, then I would not have thought about Erin. Allow me to be perfectly frank: Erin is not what I would call "sexy" by a long shot. Oh, I do believe that she is quite beautiful, but she is at most 5'4", at least 130 lbs, has wide hips, and I would be surprised if her breasts are any larger than a B cup. Now, I am not trying to degrade her at all, but just merely point out that she is not exactly sexy (At least, not from a modern American male standpoint). Thus, I would say that an animalistic desire, without regards for who the woman is, would be aimed more at a sexual object (I am not trying to objectify women, but the fact of the matter is that an animalistic desire would probably see the woman as a means to an end and nothing more) that possesses desirable sexual traits (Be it the perfect face, massive breasts, curvy body, or whatever). After thinking through the question with logic, I found that the "dream" came from passionate feelings for Erin.

Somewhere along being crazy over Erin, I unknowingly stopped being crazy about her and just began loving her.

Although I believe that there is a dividing line between being crazy over and being in love with someone, there is a fuzzy distinction. I am not sure quite how to explain it and put raw feelings into words, but you just know it. It is like using slightly different wrapping on one Christmas present than all of the rest; the fact that its color, pattern, and design is different distinguishes it from all of the rest of the presents that were wrapped all the same way, so it could even be said to be more special. Okay, so that is a bad analogy, but it gets the point across (Hopefully). I think about it some more, and I am still at a loss for how I can explain what the difference is. You can feel it in your bones and you know that it is a great thing.

And it makes you feel like a ray of sunshine. It makes you feel right as rain and it makes you feel like a million dollars even on a bad day. Love is what cleanses your soul of all of the bad shit that you have done in your life, allowing you to forget the less-than-good times with ease and giving you a goal that you have no problem with changing yourself in order to accomplish it. All day on Christmas Eve, I was tired and worn out from a previous night of partying with friends and listening to plenty of drama, yet as soon as I saw Erin, I felt more energized than I had been in years. I was not smiling to show teeth and feign any happiness; I was smiling because she was smiling at me, and that made me genuinely happy. Where I had once thought that my feelings for her may have been waning, I was proven wrong just by seeing her pretty smile and talking with her for a solid thirty minutes.

There is a bright center of my universe and its name is Erin Schmucker.

Oh sure, there is still a doubt in the back of my mind, and undoubtedly, meeting with any failure will lead to an opposite feeling, but for now, I have confidence and my worries are minimal. I recognize that my chances with getting together with Erin are not all that great, but I am going to make damn sure that I have the best chances possible at success. Although this may be coming out and sounding like "We're gonna win this battle, boys" or some silly speech about attaining victory using every means possible, I do not see it as a fight. It is a test of character, will, and determination; a test to see who I am and to see if I can be good enough of a man for Erin's love and affection. There is a set goal, and although attaining that goal is far more difficult than walking a path, it has been made already and I only need to accomplish it. However, there is no specific plan; I usually work without a plan, and despite the fact that not everything goes well without a plan, accomplishing the goal requires either an incredibly flexible plan or a plan that is made up as events occur. However, I do not use any particular plan because one would have a certain degree of inflexibility because specific solutions are not figured out for specific problems until problems actually present themselves.

In short, I will rely upon myself to see that my love embraces Erin one step at a time. With luck, our souls will be cleansed, leaving happiness and fulfillment. Or something mushy like that.

Oh yeah, Happy Holidays to everyone. It aer teh tasteh.

The Smaller Things in Life

Nicholas Chamfort (1741 - 1794)
In great affairs men show themselves as they wish to be seen; in small things they show themselves as they are.

In the past few weeks, I have not watched a lot of anime at all, and while I find this odd to a certain extent, I am almost relieved. I am not tired of my job at Anime Academy at all (Although, I do find that people questioning my opinion to be more mentally and emotionally taxing that I previous believed it to be), there have been a few things popping up in my life that have taken some precedence, voluntarily or otherwise.

• I chuckle at the fact that I am more stressed out now than I was from the previous semester at college. I received my grades in the mail on either December 19th or 20th (I had checked my grades online on December 18th), and found out what they were:
  Japanese 0001 - First Year Japanese 1: D
  History 0678/Jewish Studies 0283 - U.S. and the Holocaust: I
  Music 0311 - Introduction to World Music: F
  Political Science 1261 - American Public Policy: C+
  
  With a term QPA of 1.07 and a cumulative QPA of 1.95, I find myself figuratively wiping sweat from my brow and a strange smirk appearing on my face. I am sure that many people would be horrified to receive those grades, but I am disturbingly happy.
  
  The professors held up their end of the bargain in my Japanese class, and I got my D. I am sure that they did not try to put themselves in my shoes or anything like that, but they did not attempt to screw me over in the end. Concurrently, I am happy that I got an Incomplete (For those who were wondering what "I" meant) in my Holocaust class, and while I wish the same could have happened for my Music class, it is far better than receiving an F.
  
  As soon as my mom saw the grades, her voice did not get loud or aggravated or even angry. She just quietly said "If your term QPA is not a 3.00 next semester, I am not signing the papers for your student loans."
  
  And I found myself chuckling again.
• I realize that it is not my problem, but I feel that it is my problem despite the rational thought running through my head saying "Getting yourself involved in Brandon and Meghan's relationship will not solve anything."
  
  Allow me to elaborate, but since I have already spoken about this subject previously, I am not going to brush over what is already written. Basically, Brandon and Meghan are still going out, but their relationship is becoming a bit rocky. Brandon once believed that he would be infinitely happy with Meghan, but that has proven to be false. He explained to me the troubles that the relationship was going through on AIM a week prior to actually witnessing it firsthand, and I thought that it could not have been that bad.
  
  I had driven up to Penn State on Thursday night (December 18th) to party and hang out with Brandon since he had finished his finals that day. Meghan's last final was on Friday night (December 19th) at 8 PM, and it was after her final that we all hung out and had some fun (Granted, fun did not accumulate to being more than just drinking, sitting around somewhere, and a lot of talking, but I had a lot of fun). Brandon and I had stopped drinking about 11 PM because we did not want to give Meghan's oldest brother, James, and his friend, Matt, the impression that we had given Meghan all of her alcohol (Which only added up to a bottle of peppermint schnapps, but I think Brandon was more concerned about concealing his relationship with James, since his learning of it would ultimately lead to the rest of his family learning of it). Anyways, a new friend, Isaiah, hung with us as well, and we had a grand ol' time walking all over Penn State, going to Walmart, and chilling in a lot of different places. It should also be made clear that Meghan was drinking her schnapps most of this time, and she was sloppy drunk by the time that we dropped her, James, and Matt off at her honors dorm, but after we dropped off Isaiah at his dorm, I discovered that Meghan had accidentally taken my V8 Splash that I had purchased at Walmart and we had what she wanted. Brandon called up Meghan and told her this, and she came down to the front door ten minutes later, but then both of them walked into the building for twenty minutes while leaving me out in my car with the engine idling. When Brandon got back into the car, he was breathing heavily and looked very pissed off.
  
  I decided to not ask about it, but when we got back to Brandon's apartment, Meghan called his cell phone and Brandon hung up as soon as he saw the Caller ID. This prompted me to ask him what had happened to change his mood so drastically. Although I received only one side of what had happened, I know that it is the side that is far more rational: Meghan had a problem with a comment that Brandon had made on Thursday night. The comment was actually a joke that insinuated that women should be barefoot and pregnant, yet everyone who was in the room, including Meghan, got a good laugh out of it because they knew it was a joke. The problem was that Meghan had a problem with Brandon saying something of this nature, but you have to keep in mind three things: she was drunk, she had laughed at the joke, and it was a day after the comment was made.
  
  She essentially made a mountain out of a mole hill, and from my understanding, this happens three or four times a week at least. Although I am not sure about it, I believe that Brandon seriously thinks about reconsidering his relationship with Meghan simply because she likes to pick fights in this fashion. I talked with Brandon about it for a while, and we came to the conclusion that I am and should be on the sidelines. Having any part to do in their fighting would only magnify the problem at a certain level, and reducing my part in their relationship to being a referee of sorts would not fix anything.
  
  It still is not my problem, but I cannot help but feel somewhat responsible for it.
  
• A loss of faith can ultimately lead to vices. I am not speaking about faith in a god or gods or any particular religion, but rather, in yourself and others.
  
  Ever since I came back from my trip to Penn State in early November, I have had this as a part of my AIM profile:

  I saw your picture not long ago, and I remembered that I had forgotten your precious smile and sparkling eyes. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't find the tears. Perhaps I lost faith and that which is most dear to me.

  As I contemplate about problems that have been coming up recently in my life, I realize that Erin and my emotional "investment" in her have not been having the greatest of effects upon me. In all honesty, I have only seen her once so far on this winter break, and that was for less than a minute at Allison's house. Yet, for that brief period of time, I felt a hollow happiness. I call it a hollow happiness because just being with or around her instantly puts a smile on my face and makes me feel good, but at that time, I felt as if something was missing. Perhaps it was knowing that she was leaving just as soon as I met her, but something tells me that it might be because I have lost faith in myself and her. On myself, it is the feeling of tasting the ashes of a "victory" (I do not wish to trivialize a relationship into winning or losing, yet I am at a loss for the proper word) lost in my mouth and the depression that comes with knowing that you cannot do anything to help your situation. On her, it is the feeling that she is merely the fruit that remains out of my reach no matter how high I jump.
  
  And as I think of it more, I feel resigned to a fate that I cannot escape; I am merely falling down a chasm, and no matter how hard I flap my arms or reach out to the walls to stop my descent, I cannot prevent the inevitable sudden stop. This summer, all I could think was "I am crazy about Erin, and I know a relationship with her will go somewhere", but with time given to ponder in a dark silence and bouncing thoughts off of people around me, it has turned into "We won't go anywhere with it, but since I promised her already, that is the only reason why I shall try one more time next summer." No longer am I overly eager to get in a relationship with Erin simply because I feel that it any attempt would be met with certain failure.
  
  And I hate that feeling; the feeling that no matter how hard I struggle, I will never accomplish what I work so hard for.
  
  I wrote those three sentences in my AIM profile when I thought that I still had a good chance with Erin, but circumstances have changed despite my reluctance to change my profile. Yet, I look at the last line closely and wonder "What did I mean by 'that which is most dear to me'?"
  
  I think I meant my feelings for Erin.
  
  By no means do I mean to say that I am still not crazy about Erin. If ever given the opportunity, I would not hesitate in the slightest to get into a serious relationship with her and be the best damn boyfriend I could be despite my obvious lack of experience. Yet, I have a doubt, and a doubt is like a crack in a dam; it will break, but it is just a matter of when.

I am hoping to get back into the "anime mood", whether it happens when I am at home or when I go back to college. I do not want to take it to the extent that I did this semester, but it is still something I enjoy and like very much. However, for the moment, I guess I am taking a small hiatus from all of that to gain more appreciation for what my life encompasses.

Without That Incentive

I look back again and realize that I did not tie the beginning of my previous entry properly with the end. And while this entry is slightly repetitive of things that I have said before, there are some new aspects I want to shed light on.

Professor David Mills
Joseph-san, if you would, please have a seat.

As I heard those words, I still did not know what to think. The day was November 12, 2003, and although I forget what time of the day that the meeting was scheduled for, I believe it was set for mid-afternoon somewhere between 3 PM and 4 PM (Honestly, I have all of this written down on a piece of paper, but I left said paper at Pitt and went home for Winter Break with Steve). However, the time of day has little to do with what actually happened.

After a 10 minute conversation, I had received the gist of the professor's message: he was going to be "nice" and give the handicapped "kid" (Me) a D.

On the spot, a hate for my Japanese 0001 class materialized. I am sure that I would have ended the semester with an F, but I probably would have been much happier that way. Some people will immediately go off and say "Well, a D means that you at least got credit for the class, while an F meant that it was a complete waste of time." I already realize this, but there is a strong difference between being handed a D and earning an F. Allow me to elaborate more on this subject.

Being given a D, regardless of your previous grade, immediately kills all of your incentive to do well. Oh, I do not mean "I got a D in United States History 1945 to Present, so I am going to not do well because I am pissed." I mean, "I am getting a D no matter how hard I try, so why should I work my ass off if all I can achieve a D?" Along certain lines, this is similar to the train of thought that some affirmative action-targeted people face; if they are given something that they did not truly earn, they feel that they are essentially lowered and degraded because others felt the need to simply give them what they worked so hard to earn only to find out that they did not rightfully earn it. Along some lines, I can understand why the professor decided to give me a D; 60% of your grade came from oral performance alone, and those who could not perform well would not receive a good grade. However, there is a stark difference between that and earning an F. I would much rather earn an F simply because it acknowledges that I worked as hard or not at all for my grade, thus showing that I did not need help from someone else to get my own grade.

In the case of my Japanese 0001 class, circumstances were slightly different. For the course, we could only miss five classes for the entire semester, and while I stuck to this policy religiously. However, after the professor told me that he would give me a D, my incentive was pulled out from underneath me and I remember skipping more recitation classes. In all, I believe I skipped seven or eight classes, but I stopped counting once I realized that it was all a useless effort. If your grade is already predetermined, why should you even work for it? However, I received an e-mail some days afterwards:

From: David O. Mills (dom+@pitt.edu)
To: eaj11@pitt.edu
CC: Sachiko Takabatake Howard (showard@pitt.edu)
Sent: Tuesday, November 25, 2003 2:00 PM -0500
Subject: First Year Japanese

Joseph-san,
I want to make sure that you understand our agreement concerning your participation in this class. You are to continue to prepare daily and attend class like all other students. The teachers will continue to give you opportunities to participate.

According to my record you have now missed 7 classes, which is too many. Be sure to attend all classes next week.

You also are expected to prepare all homework and take quizes like everyone else, and to take the final exams.

David Mills

In all honesty, the professor never once said anything about continuing to attend class or keeping up with homework while we had our meeting. I remember reading this e-mail one morning about three minutes before a recitation was supposed to begin, and although I had decided to skip the recitation, I quickly changed my mind upon reading those words that sent a shiver down my spine. No longer was going to class voluntary as far as whether or not you wanted to earn a good grade; it was now mandatory of me despite the fact that I had no reason to continue going. When I took the written final on December 8th at 10 AM, I wrote down a bunch of crap and returned it five minutes after it was passed out; when I took the oral final on December 9th at 1:12 PM, I made no attempt to not stutter while trying to speak Japanese.

The sad part is that I will probably never want to continue learning Japanese, whether in a class or on my own.

However, this brings me to a slightly different subject. While driving home from Pittsburgh with Steve, we had quite a lot to talk about. From affirmative action to social security to "God", we did not stop talking until we were maybe 45 minutes away from my house. The reason we stopped talking (Although there was only a minute or two where we actually stopped altogether) was because of a subject that I speak about quite a bit: Erin. At first, we were talking about our opinions of personal sexual practices, but the subject slowly shifted to Erin. I forget at what point we came to talking entirely about Erin, but the transition was there nevertheless. I talked about how I still care for her quite a lot, and Steve spoke about her family's disposition being different by sex (Erin, her sister, and her mother are very cheerful and energetic most of the time; Erin's brother and her father are laconic, quietly happy, but mildly eerie to a certain extent).

After stopping at a gas station in Carlisle, we got back on the Turnpike and I asked Steve why he loved Allison. He smirked and gave a slight chuckle, almost like he had never thought that a friend would ask him a serious question like that. "I don't know," he began, "When I'm with her, when I talk to her, when I smell her, I know that she is one of the few good women I have ever met in my life." Honestly, there was more, but I cannot remember the details except that Steve loves Allison without a doubt. Then I asked him if he thought that he made her happy. "Well, I don't really think about that... I just sort of know it when she smiles at me," was his response, and this came out much more easily than the previous answer. So I decided to give him both barrels; "Steve, at work this summer, I had some bad days, and bad days were bad. However, every time I had a bad day, I would think about Erin, and that would make me involuntarily smile and feel better. Yet, while I was so focused on my happiness, it took me until the end of the summer to begin to ask myself whether or not I made her happy." "Well Eric, you always have to consider that maybe the best way you can make her happy is just by being a friend to her. I doubt that you'll ever get together with her."

Silence.

The only sound that filled the car was the rumble of the car engine, the snowy wind hitting the front of the car, and the low grumble of the road less than two feet below us, yet there was only one sound in my head: pain. Had Steve not been in the car, I am sure that I would have broken down crying at that moment, but the most painful tears are those that are not shed. I could only sort out my feelings on a subject that had crossed my path twice in less than a month: helplessness.

Without an incentive, what reason is there to keep going on? Yet, without an incentive, why not just keep striving to accomplish your own goals? These two questions clashed again and again in my mind, and even now, I have yet to solve them. On one hand, I have put all of my heart into a lovely lady whom I may never get in a relationship with despite all of my efforts to be a better person, yet on the other hand, perhaps I should continue to keep going and hope that I may find a pretty woman out there who may love me just as much as I love her. But it hurts. It hurts so very much. Fuck screwing up an entire semester at college; this is a pain that tears into the marrow of my bones and makes me wish that my heart would just stop beating. I know that I may be overreacting, but doubt rampages in my mind that I cannot remove with mere words. For without the desired results, what good are efforts if they are only wasted? What would make me want to be a better man?

But perhaps I should just be the best goddamn friend I can be for Erin; being there for when she needs a shoulder to cry upon; being there for when she needs a helping hand; being there to give her a pat on the back when she has done well.

However, when I find myself crying as I type these words, I realize that I want to be more than a friend for Erin. And once again, I feel helplessness at the fact that I cannot affect the situation how I want it to be. Powerless to do what it is I desperately strive to accomplish, and seeing my efforts, no matter how great or insignificant, be for naught. I can only go so far, and once she goes so far, then we can go from there, yet I feel that drop of doubt rippling inside of me. Even you would be surprised just how much ripples can hurt.

I already promised Erin that I would wait until next summer, and then I will simply ask her if she wants something a bit more serious. I will stick to my promise, but the question remains: without that incentive, what reason is there to keep doing the best you can? I am at a loss for an answer.

My Roommate: William D. Bradley

Looking back on these previous few entries, I realize that they suck. I usually try to bring things full circle, but I did not do that all that well or at all. They just seemed to taper off towards the end, and I think I need to work on fixing that.

Book kept on William D. Bradley's desk
Slander: Liberal Lies About the American Right by Ann Coulter

Before I discuss the importance of the book above, allow me to digress slightly.

Since my first year at college, I have had three roommates: Kyle D. Balliet (Freshman year), Benjamin S. Johns (Sophomore year), and William D. Bradley (Junior year). Kyle was a lacrosse junky trying to be a business major; because of his girlfriend, I can say that he was fully pussy whipped, and not in a good way either. Ben was actually a pretty cool guy going after a law major; he had sex with an uncountable number of women in our dorm (He would first ask me to leave, thankfully), did plenty of alcohol and drugs, but was still a competent and respectable man. Bill... well, I will explain in great detail.

All three of these men were born and raised in Pittsburgh and all three are/were fairly conservative, but where I was very cool with Kyle and Ben, Bill is the exact opposite. He is the worst roommate I have ever had and probably will ever have.

Coming back to the book, Bill is very conservative. In fact, he is so conservative that he has a conscious hate for anyone that is liberal. When I first spotted that book on the national disaster known as his desk, I was not surprised. To be honest, I have never read it, yet just by reading book reviews on non-Amazon.com sites, I gather that it is fairly inaccurate and is just flaming the liberal left. Yet, despite all of the political rhetoric that I hear fly out of his loud mouth (And this is while I am wearing headphones with music blaring) while he is talking on his cell phone, the rhetoric has nothing to do with why he is the worst roommate that I have ever had.

I remember the first day I met him. He was moving into our dorm room at the exact same time that I was. My parents helped me move into my dorm, and as I was shoving them out of the door (I wanted to setup my room the way that I wanted, not how they wanted), Bill and his father happened to walk in with all of his stuff. I promptly greeted Bill by saying "Hello William Bradley; my name is Eric Joseph and I'm your roommate for this year" quickly followed by holding my hand out to shake his. What followed was one of the most awkward five seconds of my life; he just stood there and stared at my hand like I was holding Hitler's ashes. Finally, he snapped out of his trance and shook my hand while mumbling something. At first, I thought that he was just a shy guy; yet, after living with him for only a week, I found that he is one of the most obnoxious and argumentative men I have ever met. Anyways, as I was setting up my computer, putting away clothing, and making my bed, I got into a conversation with his father and we chatted for a good ten minutes before leaving.

Officially, including grunts and other noises made in my general direction, Bill's father has spoken to me for 590 seconds more than Bill ever has.

Allow me to describe an average day.

I always have my alarm clock set to go off at 8 AM every morning because of my 9 AM Japanese recitation. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Bill also has a 9 AM class... only he sets his alarm clock to go off at 7:30 AM. As soon as 7:30 AM rolls around, his clock starts blaring and I, in a sleepy daze, subconsciously run to my clock to turn off the alarm that has yet to turn on. However, there is no purpose behind his alarm clock being set for 7:30 AM; he will always hit the snooze button and roll back to sleep (Perhaps because he has a hard time getting up every morning even when he gets at least seven hours of sleep). So I am left standing by my desk, staring at my alarm clock, and slowly coming out of my sleepy daze only to realize that my alarm clock had not gone off. Care to know what else is interesting? This happens all the time; yes, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Call me an idiot if you wish, but you would do the same thing if you got five hours of sleep every night and had a subconscious drive to turn off your alarm clock as fast as possible (Or anything that sounds like an alarm clock). However, Tuesdays and Thursdays are different. Bill's first class is at noon or 1 PM (I estimate), so he sleeps in until well after I have gone off to second class of the day.

Let me fill in some gaps on those Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Bill gets a shower every night about 10 PM and I get a shower every morning about 8 AM or so. I am up as soon as it is 8 AM, and sometimes I will go to check my e-mail or Anime Academy for updates or whatnot; basically, I am on my computer. However, Bill also gets up about this time because he has already hit his snooze button three times, but it still takes some time for him to wake up. If I am still on my computer at 8:05 AM, Bill is in the bathroom (A disgusting bathroom meant for eight people, which happens to be how big my suite is) and using the sink for at least fifteen minutes, which forces me to screw around on my computer until he is done using the sink at 8:20 AM. If I am in the bathroom by 8:05 AM, Bill merely delays using the sink by five minutes. I have no clue what he does at the sink; perhaps he is washing his face, greasing up his hair, or whacking off, but either way, I could care less. The thing is that the sink is right across from the shower (Less than ten feet), and I feel like having a bit of privacy when I am cleaning myself. I can understand someone coming in and using the toilet for a few minutes because it has its own separate room connected to the bathroom, but Bill uses the sink for all fifteen minutes. Usually, I could be done with my shower by 8:15 AM, but because Bill is in there and I do not feel like showing my pink butt or penis to him, I am sort of forced to stay in the shower until he leaves, which would be 8:25 AM.

But that is only the first half-hour of those three days of the week. I will usually be back by noon, and seeing as how I normally get only five hours of sleep every night, I am dead tired, so I decide that I will take a nap. I will get all comfy and warm in my bed, feeling the fringes of precious sleep coming upon me... and Bill walks in regardless of the day. With lunch for himself, no less. Hey, I can deal with a twenty year-old man eating his lunch less than two feet away from my ear (We have bunk beds, and since I have the bottom and his desk is right there, you can figure it out)... but only if he did not have to turn on his television every single time and crank the volume up so loud that it would wake my three grandparents from their graves. I mean, even when I am not trying to take a nap, the volume will be up at an insane level; after my morning shower, I may have my headphones on and be listening to blaring music, but I can still clearly hear the news anchor inhaling and exhaling between sentences.

When I am done with classes, he is usually in our room with the television on whether or not he is actually watching it, studying, or screwing around in the bathroom. I would ask him to turn the volume, but at this point, I have too much dislike for him to even want to look in his general direction or speak to him. Yet, there are times during the day that he will turn off or mute his television, and this is whenever he receives a call on his cell phone. While he is speaking to whomever, I think that he tries to mimic his television because his voice is pretty damn loud; by that, I mean that I overhear every conversation that he has even when I have (Yes) my headphones on with music blaring (Okay, that is a slight exaggeration; I do have some stuff that would shatter eardrums and it is not the majority of my collection, yet I will have the volume up as far as possible for whatever the song is).

His relationship with his cell phone seems to be a strong connection to everyone in his world. By that, I mean to say that I have overheard a lot of things fly out of his mouth that make me believe that my dead grandfather was not even that conservative. Bill seems to display an extreme lack of tact and kindness with regards to whomever or whatever he is addressing, and he constantly radiates a "I am the only one who is correct" attitude. Although I am not a part of his conversations or life, it still annoys me to no end.

Come the beginning of next semester, I am requesting a room transfer. Steve said that one of his roommates may be moving out of his place, so I could be getting a place at Bouquet Gardens. If that does not happen, maybe a room in Tower C. Other than that, I am not sure where I could go, but I am sure of this: I am getting out of my current dorm (McCormick Hall 407-1).

I could care less if Bill was conservative or liberal; I never want to see him again. There is more to be said about him, but even if I were to go on, the fact remains: no other roommate can top just how bad Bill is.

Boiled Frustration

04-1 will be finished in a week. For those who do not know, 04-1 is Pitt's official designation for the first semester of the 2004 school year. It started on August 25, 2003 and officially ended on December 5, 2003, and while finals run all the way up to December 13, 2003, this is still more than two weeks shy of the year 2004. I would question why they mark a semester as being a part of 2004 when it does not even run into the year, but that is not the issue at hand.

At this point, I am figuring that I will probably fail 04-1. Allow me to elaborate by discussing each class, going from best to worst.

Political Science 1261 - American Public Policy (3 credits)
Without a doubt, this has been my favorite class all semester, and even if this had been one of my better semesters, it would still rank pretty high. Most of it has to deal with Professor Robert L. Donaldson. It is blatantly obvious that he quite liberal, but he always gives an adequate explanation for most sides of any issue, the issues themselves ranging from environmental pollution control to criminal justice system to poverty.

I can remember looking at him sideways on the first day of class. He always has this coughing fit going on; no matter what the day is, the subject matter, or what suite he wears, he always coughs at least once every five to ten seconds. He may be in the middle of explaining a tax cut or anything else, and he will cough almost randomly. At first, it was mildly annoying, but after a week's worth of class, I barely noticed it. Anyways, I think it was in the second week of class that I noticed just how damn smart Professor Donaldson is. Without looking at any notes, he can lecture without any signs of slowing down and can answer questions from students with a frightening amount of detail. However, he does know his limits; I find it admirable that a college professor has the guts to say "I don't know" every once in a while when they really do not know how to respond or even have the proper answer.

I admit that I blew off the first paper that was due, but I intend on working my ass off to write the second and make-up paper as best as possible. I owe it to him to make sure that I complete the assignments.

Music 0311 - Introduction to World Music (3 credits)
Perhaps I was a bit harsh with this class. With a bit of studying, I might have had a chance at a D, but Professor Amelia Teresa Maciszewski decided to treat an introduction class like a full-blown "this is my major" class. I mean, I loved sitting and listening to her jam on her sitar, but sitting in class and recitation attempting to learn all of these Indian and Eastern European terms was way too much.

I had been told that the class was going to be relatively easy, but instead, I just got fed up with the class and never went back to it after the first week in November. Yes, I realize that is a bad move, but it was either lose my financial aid or take a bad grade. I have not shown up for the class in weeks, and the chances of me going to the final are slim. Another thing is that we were supposed to do a group project; I gave everyone else in my group my e-mail address, and I only ever received two e-mails about the project and that was regarding the initial paper. I kept going to class, but my group essentially forgot me; I even talked to someone in my group, and he acted like he had never seen me before. So I gave up.

History 0678/Jewish Studies 0283 - U.S. and the Holocaust (3 credits)
Without a shred of doubt in my mind, Dr. Barbara Burstin is one of the worst professors I have ever had in all of my years of attending public schools. Seeing as how that is roughly fifteen years of my life, I think that is saying something right there; that out of all of the dozens of teachers and professors I have ever had, she ranks near the bottom. And on top of that, I cannot really think of very many other people who were truly that bad.

I liked the idea of a class focusing on the Holocaust and the factors behind it (A combination of ethnocentrism and racism). However, the part that I did not like was how the professor focused solely at the Jewish aspect of the entire event. It just so happens that she is also the chairperson of the Holocaust Memorial Center in Squirrel Hill (A district of Pittsburgh), and without even asking her, I can tell just by the way she acts and dresses that she is Jewish. I am not trying to stereotype or typecast her, but judging by her mannerisms, I just know that she is Jewish. Now, I have no problem with her being Jewish at all; in fact, my father was Jewish by religion (And is Jewish by blood, if you wish to think of it that way). My big beef with her teaching style was how the specific focus on only the Jewish aspect of the Holocaust included some six million people who were killed... but then she never mentioned a single word as far as the other six million non-Jews who were killed as a part of the event.

Okay, I take part of that back. In one class during the first week, she was ranting on and on about how the Germans killed six million people in the Holocaust. I raised my hand and objected; "But there were another six million people who were not Jewish but were a part of the Holocaust, and they ranged from gypsies to cripples" I said. I forget her exact response, but she basically blew them off, and this pissed me off to no end.

I remember "accidentally" (I say "accidentally", but it was more like "the goddamn door was locked and no one would let me in") skipped one of the classes, and I did not know that there was a quiz being done at the time. I came to the next class and they were going over all of the answers for the quiz. As she went around the room to every student trying to get us to say the proper answers, she came to me and was befuddled; she had thought that I had dropped the class and she had taken me off of the roster. I proceeded to answer the question correctly, and she seemed amazed that I knew the answer when I had already been to every class and diligently taking notes. For the next quiz, I made sure that I was there. However, I only got halfway through it when she asked that everyone turn in their quiz. I got the quiz back and she bitched me out for not completing it; I ended up with a 47% on it, so by extrapolation, I would have received a 94% on it had she given me the chance to finish the other half.

Suffice to say, I unofficially dropped this class soon afterwards. I just could not handle all of the bullshit.

Japanese 0001 - First Year Japanese 1 (5 credits)
Until three weeks before the end of the semester, this class was going well. I mean, I had already spoken to Takabatake-sensei in early September about possible conflicts resulting from my speech impediment and the fact that 40% of my grade was based upon oral performance (Fluency, pronunciation, proper grammar, et cetera) in Act Class (Our recitations, which were done five times a week) and an additional 20% of my grade based upon two oral interview exams (The midterm and the final). She said that they would love to have me in the class and would attempt to accommodate for my stutter, but that my grade would still suffer. I told her then that I had no problem with it.

However, I later had a problem with it. This came when the other professor (Yes, two professors for one class, but the class was quite large, and we even had four teacher's assistants who were Japanese), Mills-sensei, had a meeting with me some three weeks before the end of the semester. In short, he told me that he would be "nice" and give me a D for my grade; that way, I could get half of my foreign language requirement, all five credits, and still be considered a full-time student by the Financial Aid people. This had a detrimental effect upon me; before I knew it, I stopped caring about the class entirely. If I had no control over my own grade, if I could not fight for my grade, then I felt that there was no point to the class at all. Before, I knew that I was in the shitter, but I still had some control over my grade despite the fact that I knew I would not get very far in the course. After, I was stuck with a mediocre grade no matter how much effort I put into the course.

A bad move on my part: I skipped two more recitation classes than was allowed. While I was told that I receive a D, he had not told me that I had to keep attending class, stutter like a fucking idiot for everyone, and take all of the quizzes. All I know at this point is that if I do not get my D, I am taking this matter to the dean and pointing out that the professors were only trying to pass off any liability on their part when it is their fault that they did not tell me much earlier that I would fail. Throwing in the fact that they refused to accommodate my stutter by basing my grade solely on written work, I would hope to point out that the professors were negligent to a certain extent. And if that gets me nowhere, perhaps I will take it to court. We shall see.

So yes, this semester has been royally fucked. I know I am going to pick things up next semester, but for now, all I know is that I am in some deep shit. At least my life is never truly boring.

Additional Otakon 2003 Pictures

I decided to write an entry to complement the lecture I wrote seeing as how there is some behind-the-scenes stuff I just could not talk about.

Note: I am not going to reveal any real names in this entry, and instead, I will go by aliases only. Also, I am only going to link each Anime Academy staffer to their staff profile the first time their alias is used.

While standing in Otakon 2003 pre-registration line
Random Lady: Excuse me, but can you tell me what this long line is for?
Kjeldoran: Spice Girls Reunion Party!

I am not sure who or what inspired those words from Kjeldoran, but it got quite a good laugh out of all of us. It is a line that I will never forget, and it was the beginning of four days of pure fun with people I had never physically met before. Still, even if I had not joined the Anime Academy staff, I would have gone to Otakon 2003 and taken these pictures. So, without further adieu...


Pictured: Griveton
Every picture may be worth a 1,000 words, but with a 10,000 character limit, there simply is not enough time without going into extra posts.

Anyways, Griveton flew all the way from Mexico to Baltimore, and since he has a pretty good sense of humor, he played into the whole Mexican stereotype by bringing along a sombrero and wearing it for most of the time. As far as the picture is concerned, we were waiting in the pre-registration line (Which was long) at this point, and we were busy chatting it up with one another and having some laughs. Griveton acted out another Mexican stereotype which would best be called "the Sleepy Mexican." It was worth a good laugh, and I was the only person to have my camera at the ready on a moment's notice. Also, you can see part of yotakafish (He is wearing the Akira shirt featuring Tetsuo) and Corpse on the left side. On the right is some random person who got caught in the picture or it could be someone who was with our group. My apologies if it is the latter.


Pictured: Jigenuck, Kjeldoran, Griveton, Gatts, and Mugs
If you look at the first picture in the Otakon 2002 lecture, you will see Kjeldoran and Jigenuck standing by a sign saying that only VIPs and handicapped people may use the elevator; since Anime Academy was allotted four press passes that are the equivalent of being a VIP, we are allowed to use the elevators instead of the stairs. It was a joke where people who had a press pass could rub it in the face of other people who did not possess one. Basically, they made Jigenuck use the stairs for the previous year.

However, this was taken at Otakon 2003, and Jigenuck was incredibly happy (Or was feigning joy) because he got to use the elevator. It was a good chuckle and a part of the fun of having press passes. You can only see part of Griveton's face, but everyone else is given a good mug shot. There is someone behind Mugs, but I cannot tell who they are (Perhaps vanisher?), and the kid and person next to him were just there. Now that I think about it, this was not the best picture seeing as how it can be confusing to those who have no clue what the people who I am talking about look like.

Just so I can clear up any confusion, Jigenuck is the person pointing at the elevator, Kjeldoran is sporting the red jacket with green tie (Both him and Jigenuck were cosplaying on that Friday as Lupin and Jigen, respectively), Griveton is mostly covered up by Kjeldoran and my bad angle, Gatts is wearing glasses and a light-blue plaid with red undershirt, and Mugs is the big Italian guy with a big grin on his face and what looks like two day passes (Actually, the horizontal rectangle one is a day pass while the vertical rectangle one is a press pass).


Pictured: Kjeldoran
Although there is a similar one included in the lecture that I wrote, this is another angle where Kjeldoran was slapping a woman's butt. Actually, she was asking people to slap her butt, and I believe that her goal was to have 100 people do that.

I always wondered about the kid leaning on the railing (Wearing a John Lennon shirt). He is just sort of there. He was talking to the woman before Kjeldoran slapped her butt, and then he leaned off to the side and just kept staring at her. He just seemed very out of place in the picture.


Pictured (Left to Right): Maruyama Masao, Nishimura Satoshi, and translator
My apologies for this very fuzzy picture, but the room was not very bright and my camera is not what I would call high quality. Anyways, this is a picture that I took when I attended the Madhouse Studios panel. At the opening ceremonies, I was surprised to find that Masao was actually quite small even for Japanese; I would guess that he is no taller than 58 inches. Still, he was pretty cool and Kain had gotten a picture of him with Kjeldoran and Jigenuck, but thanks to digital photography and a blunder on Kain's part, the picture was lost.

Surprisingly, the translator was a very fun guy. Not only could he translate quickly and accurately, but he also played (Before Masao and Satoshi arrived) the end theme song from His and Her Circumstances, Yume no Nakae, on the ukulele while singing it in Japanese. I thought that he did and sounded a good job, and if you look at the table, you can see his yellow ukulele.


Pictured (Left to Right): Kjeldoran and Jigenuck
Here is another picture featuring Jigenuck being incredibly joyful to have an opportunity to ride the escalator. This was done on a moment's notice; so quick, in fact, that Kjeldoran did not have a chance to turn around.


Pictured (Left to Right): Kain, Mugs, and Griveton
If you read the lecture I wrote, I wrote in the second paragraph for Day Two "Once again using the power of the press pass, we bypassed a long line leading to the Dealers Room and were the very first ones in at 10:00 am!" This picture was done on a moment's notice, and it was taken maybe ten seconds after we stepped into the Dealer's Room (Yes, we were the first ones in there) which also explains the bad angle. Once again, you can only see part of Griveton... but most of his sombrero. The picture was snapped while he was in the middle of giving Kain a high five. It also includes a decent side shot of Mugs sporting his Yankees shirt.

Although it is difficult to tell, the Dealer's Room is huge. Being the first people in felt great simply because we could check out anything and everything without the hassle of pushing through crowds. Actually, it felt good to walk around in there and check everything out without having to push people out of the way.


Pictured (Left to Right): Kjeldoran and Jigenuck
This is another picture from Saturday, and it is obvious because both Kjeldoran and Jigenuck changed from Lupin and Jigen, respectively, to two characters from Shaolin Soccer (A very good movie). I forget the names of their characters, but anyways, we tried for a few minutes to take a picture while the soccer ball was "floating" in midair (The trick was to throw it up and then snap the picture at the right moment), but that failed. Instead, Kjeldoran held the ball and Jigenuck gave him the evil stare.

Sadly, only a few people recognized who they were cosplaying as.


Pictured (Left to Right): Unknown
I take that back; Dr. Susan Napier was sitting second from the left. Anyways, this was taken at the Anime in Academia panel, and I still stick to saying that these people did not really know what the hell was going on. People were asking questions related to the application of anime to formal education, and with exception for Napier, everyone kept throwing out seemingly random answers; then again, Napier's comment about how Ghost in the Shell is an anime that defined anime did not make her look all that intelligent to me. The guy sitting in the center kept getting up every other minute only to run to the back of the room and take a boatload of pictures of the panelists. I have no clue what was going on with him.

Afterwards, I remember Kain saying that we could have done a better panel. I told him that we should do a panel next time, and all he said was "Way too much work." Oh well.

Otakon 2004 will be a blast and just as priceless.

The Homefront

This past summer, I remember blowing through most of a roll of film at Otakon 2003 (Sadly, I had bought 4 other rolls and never used them). I will get around to sharing some of the Otakon 2003 and explaining other things that I never mentioned in my lecture, but for now, these are some pictures that I took to kill off the roll.


Pictured: Toothbrush holder
Two entries ago, I mentioned that I gave a toothbrush holder to Erin as a present. The shot is a bit out of focus and was taken on the floor at my house, but you can probably "see" things more clearly if they are explained. Anyways, it holds four toothbrushes and it looked like a bathroom sink complete with faucet and hot-cold handles. If you can see a yellow dot there, it is supposed to be a rubber ducky. I am sure that women go nuts over cute stuff like it, but I have no regrets about giving it to Erin; she will put it to good use.


Pictured (Left to Right): Matt Wilson, Brandon Arce, Meghan Turk, and Lance Joseph
Okay, story time.

I already said that I needed to explain the Brandon-Meghan connection two entries ago. Well, here is the deal: they are back together again. However, it is not as simple as that. I already previous mentioned a while ago how Brandon and Meghan had broken up because her mother had walked in on her while her lips were wrapped around Brandon's penis, and that had been the end of their relationship. After some turbulent shit involving Brandon making fun of Meghan and a lot of drugs being done (All on Brandon's part), Brandon matured. Towards the end of this summer, Brandon had told me that he and Meghan were cool once again, and he gradually began inviting her to do stuff with us from bonfires to hanging out wherever. Eventually, he told me that he was in love with Meghan, and this came as a mild shock to me. Then, I remember driving back to my house from Brandon's place one night, leaving Meghan there to chat it up with him; as soon as I stepped into the door, the phone started ringing. I picked it up immediately (My parents were sleeping), and the only words I can clearly remember to this day are "Eric, I told her that I loved her, and she said the same thing back." In short, both of them are back together, and this time, they are taking the relationship very seriously. Whatever they do, I hope that they end up happy.

And I dare not forget my brother, Lance. Yes, my fraternal twin brother (No, he does not stutter) does not look very much like me at all. Anyways... well, he is my brother. There is not much else I really can say about him. Given a certain subject, I could rant on and on about this or that pertaining to my brother, but I have already talked a bit about him throughout these posts.

Matt Wilson is someone I will probably never forgot; not because he is particularly memorable, but rather, because it seems like he is a test in extremes. On one hand, Matt is a painfully nice man who will do almost anything, and on the other hand, he is a pathetic pothead/alcoholic who cannot control himself. The bad part is that these aspects are dual-edged. Allow me to elaborate. Matt is incredibly nice; he will bend over backwards and crack his skull open just so you can have a sip of cool water. The bad part about this is that other people realize this, and thus, they take advantage of Matt. These other people range from his friends to his family to even his girlfriend. I mean, I really do like him as a friend, but there is hardly anyone in his life that does not stomp all over him. Basically, this aspect of him can be summed up in one word: lemming. Yet, the other aspect is almost entirely opposite. Matt does not do drugs or alcohol a whole lot, but whenever he does, he quickly goes from manageable to ridiculously fucked up. I have lost count of the number of times where he has drank so much that he even has a problem falling on the ground and where he gets so high that he forgets most of the English language. And I find this quietly sad: he is a good person, but he will forever allow people to use him until he "grows some balls" and can get other people to properly respect him.

Now, as far as the picture is concerned, we were all in Brandon's basement screwing around with Matt's old potato gun. Meghan is holding a screwdriver (The mixed drink) in her hand, and Matt is pouring himself a glass of Banker's Club vodka to mix with orange juice. Lance is busy checking the potato gun to make sure that the igniter/sparker works properly. I was just sort of chilling out on a chair when I took this picture.


Pictured (Left to Right): Brandon Arce, Meghan Turk, Andy Arce, Lance Joseph, and Steven Whetstone
This picture was taken a mere three minutes after the previous one. Steve had shown up at Brandon's house (Probably because he could not spend any time with Allison that night), and Brandon's father (Andy Arce) had come down into the basement. At this point, Andy is probably telling Meghan crazy stories about his college days spent driving through Oklahoma and Texas, and meanwhile, Brandon was goofing around and pointing the unloaded potato gun in Steve's general direction.

Anyways, what happened was that we realized that the potato gun still worked, so Matt and I drove to the local Walmart to pick up hairspray and a bag of potatoes. Forty-five minutes later, we were back at Brandon's house and ready to rock. That was my first, solid experience with a potato gun; learning the Do's and Don'ts were not that difficult, but actually firing off the gun is not as simple as it may seem. After we blew through most of the bag of potatoes, one of them got stuck in the tube too far, and since Matt had installed a safety screw that would prevent a potato from sliding into the expansion chamber, we had no means to take it out. However, it was still quite a lot of fun while it lasted.

Oh yeah, and there is a much better picture of Lance.


Pictured: My Desk
Here is the first picture of my desk. Yes, this is not exactly the most exciting thing, but I wanted to get a shot of part of it so I could kill off the roll. You can see most of my anime DVDs on the left side of the desk (Click here to see what I have), and my computer on the right. In between both of those is a CD rack that holds practically all of the games that I have. Sadly, on the very top are all of the Star Wars books that I have. I still cannot believe that I collected so many of them despite how repetitive they were, but oh well.

Although you cannot see it in this picture, there were a dozen boxes to the left that sucked up what little space I had in my room. I forget exactly what they were filled with, but I think that most of them were old clothes, and my mother had decided that it was best to keep all of that stuff in my room... but not in the basement. Then again, it is her constitutional right to act like a blonde if she wants to.


Pictured: My bed
Wow! Another thrilling picture packed with excitement... featuring my bed. Yes, this was just another shot used to kill off the roll. My bed came with a shelf-attachment, and I have a large collection of gaming magazines (PC Gamer, PC Games, Computer Gaming World, et cetera), comic books (Garfield, Calvin and Hobbes, Far Side, et cetera), random books, and not much else.

Next to the lamp, you can see a picture of what looks like a dog; that is actually a piggy bank (Or doggy bank, if you prefer), but I have not used that in years. Instead, I use an old moonshine jar that Lance and I found many years ago in on our grandmother's property (It was probably a part of a trash pile, but we rooted through it anyways) for all of my spare change. On the bed itself is my work uniform and my backpack (Which came in handy numerous times throughout the summer when taking stuff from the warehouse), and on the far right is my dresser with the underwear drawer left open (Yes, I wear briefs).


Pictured: Stella a.k.a. Fluffy a.k.a. Fluffums
Last but not least is a picture of Stella. If you are wondering about the "a.k.a. Fluffy a.k.a. Fluffums" part in the picture caption, that is more or less Lance's other names that he calls her. However, my father called her Stella, and since he is her cat, I am not about to argue over simple matters such as a name.

Anyways, Stella is, for lack of a better word, stupid. I am not saying that she is a bad cat at all, but rather, the way that she acts and her mannerisms are way too laidback for any normal cat. My parents like to call her for whenever they are serving her dinner, yet they do not realize that, instead of calling out "STELLA", they can just call out "ASSHOLE" or "DOG FOOD" and she would still come running towards them. Yet, despite her severe lack of brain cells, she is still a very gentle, loving, and cuddly cat. As a big bonus, her fur is the softest I have ever felt.

Okay, so this was not the most interesting entry ever, but I still enjoyed it quite a lot.

Change of Status

Here is yet another entry that I had only written part of. It should be interesting to see what I write here as far as what I remember and whatnot. And right below this paragraph is another paragraph that I had written already, so I may as well keep it here.

I am sorry that I have not entered a new entry in quite some time; this is entirely my fault, but I do have my reasons. One reason is because of my job at Hersheypark and another reason is... well, you will find out in this entry. Call it a second job, if you would.

From Anime Academy's front page
June 10th, 2003 - Dear student body,
And the winner is...

Eek, Professor of Anime Politics! Beating out 47 of his fellow students to earn a spot on the Anime Academy faculty, Eek had to endure the stiffest competition in the history of Staff contests. For those others that sent in their applications, we would like to thank you all for wanting to take such an active role in our school.

This brings back a flood of memories and feelings. I can remember thinking back when the contest was going on that, if I lost, I would probably never come back to Anime Academy. However, I doubt that would have happened; I might have gotten a little pissed off because I put a lot of effort into it, but the chances of me being incredibly angry and never coming back were really small.

I can remember how it felt to win. Where I was once looking up to everyone else on the staff, I was now a part of them; where people once looked at me, they suddenly looked up at me. The sudden change of status was concurrently thrilling yet frightening. I mean, being a professor was something that I had always thought "Wow, that would be really fun," and while it is a lot of fun, the sudden shift from student to professor felt incredibly awkward. I had only an inkling of understanding how the site was run, and having all of the behind-the-scenes stuff revealed was like jumping from a hot tub into the Arctic Ocean in a second. There is that sudden shock once you realize how things function, but once the shock went away, I was able to see just how much fun it really is.

At this point, I have been a part of the staff for almost six months, and while I admit that some things have drastically changed in my life due to my relationship with Anime Academy, other things really have not. For instance, I have essentially sunk myself neck-deep in anime, but I have not immersed myself in the anime community as a whole. I do not mean to brag, but I have reviewed a boatload of anime in only six months (Most of it in the past three months) and I admit that I have kept the site afloat for the past month now, yet my relationship with the anime community has not really been affect. Allow me to elaborate: I do not really associate or participate in very many other anime-related sites. I mean, other than Project J and Twilight Whispers, I am not an active participant in other communities where I may be signed up on their forum (For example: Dub Review, Anime News Network, or THEM Anime Reviews).

The only difference between before I joined the staff and now is that I take notes and then I write a review for almost every anime I watch. There have been a few anime where I just cannot find the right words to write a review for them or they are a part of a larger franchise and said franchise tends to repeat itself over and over. The problem with the latter is that I do not want to keep repeating the same thing about parts of the franchise because they are all so similar, hence, I can only give thought to a solution. For the former, I have gone back several times and finished writing the review, but some of them still elude me. I might stare at the screen for a while and just keep thinking about how I can go about writing for it; part of the problem may be that I do not want to start repeating what previous reviews from other professors have already said or I will simply just not find the right words. Surprisingly, one or two anime have left me with an unknown feeling about them. I am not particularly impressed by them but they are not bad, yet at the same time, I am more than hesitant to turn in a review that essentially says "This anime was bland" with a grade haphazardly slapped on there just for looks.

I can remember when I was turning in my first review and I was talking to other staff members on IRC; I forget what brought up the subject (I had been a professor for less than six hours, if I remember correctly) but Kain suddenly jumped into the middle of the conversation and told me something to the effect of "Eric, if you are going to be a professor, I want only your honest opinion." That was about when I finally grasped the responsibilities of being a professor and decided that I would not let the opinions of others sway what I think of an anime.

However, I am sure that there are anime that some of the staff refuse to even think about reviewing. For me, that is any Studio Ghibli or Miyazaki Hayao anime. I remember once telling Kain on IRC "Well, Ghibli or Hayao flicks don't really jive me." I think his response was "And? That's your choice." I have told this to some other people, but I have never really explained why I choose to do things this way. I think I put it best when I was talking to ltj2002 one time: "Well, all that my review would end up saying is 'This is a Ghibli/Hayao film... what did you expect it to be? Bad?'" I mean, I recognize their quality, but they have never really connected to me. Of the staff, I am the only one that does not have a Ghibli/Hayao anime on their Top 10 Anime list, and I do not regret this in the least; to a certain extent, I almost pride myself on this for some unknown reason.

And five and a half months after the previous professorship contest ended, there is another:

From Anime Academy's front page
November 20th, 2003 - Dear student body,
With the recent retirement of both Kei and Griveton, Mugs and I feel that now is the time to open up a new Professorship position. All parties interested in joining the Anime Academy as a Professor should click on the above link. Please follow all of the instructions to the very detail; the last Staff opening in April of this year drew over four dozen applicants, so I reiterate that all applications should be filled out exactly as instructed to save us time needed to review them all.

A lot of people tend to be very quiet about the contest while others want to make it known to everyone that they are applying. For example, I began student reviews back in March or April 2003 (Actually, I was the person who started it), but I was not doing it for practice or anything; I did them because there was a Library section in the Lounge, and I figured that if I could not be a professor, I could still get my opinion out by other means. So I wanted to write reviews, and since I was a student, I separated them from the official reviews by calling them (Yes, you guess it) "Student Reviews." All of the original threads have long since been saved on my hard drive and deleted from the Library, but that was only after I became a professor; before I got the position, they were largely ignored by the masses that would descend upon the Lounge everyday, but afterwards, a lot of people were writing student reviews. Part of this may have to do with the fact that Kain posted in all of my student reviews threads something to the extent of "Good review" or "There is a mistake here, but other than that, it looks great." This undoubtedly attracted some attention, and it seems that a lot of people who write student reviews now believe that this is their means to shine and impress some of the staff in hopes for the next professorship contest. In fact, the day that the contest was announced, I remember at least a half-dozen new student reviews being posted, and there has been a large increase in reviews.

Yet, people seem to believe that this is all that the contest is based upon: a simple review. "Oh hey, if I have good grammar and spelling, I can beat out 90% of the people who apply, so I'm sure to win" is probably the mentality of some of the people, but there is more to it than that. I already gave some advice, but I am willing to bet that most people will overlook it to some extent; if that is the case, then it is for the better.

Still, I am anxious to see who will win.

All My Love

At this point, it has been almost a full six months since I began neglecting my blog. Finals are coming up, I am failing for the most part, and I have a lot of things that I need to get off of my chest. First off is this entry that I began a few months back but never found the time to complete.

Sorry for taking a two-month hiatus with this online journal, but between work, work, having a life, and everything else, there simply has not been a whole lot of time to write here, but that will change soon when I get back to Pitt for the semester. Anyways, the entry...

Erin,

It feels a bit cheap to not convey my thoughts and feelings to you verbally, but seeing as how my speech impediment hinders normal conversation, words said are simply translated into words written. I will try to keep it short and concise.

I guess this is the point where I speak about some subject matter that is a bit more serious. I am sure that many people (me included) have talked to you about college. I am not about to preach to you all about what you should do; rather, I think it is more important to tell you what it is like. College is where you will see more things than you ever expected, and you will encounter more things than you may want. They are merely tests, meant to make you think about whom you are and what it is you believe in, but they are also chance for you to question the same of them. One definite feeling that I got from college was that going to Hershey had closed me off from people around me; Hershey had more than its fair share of shady people, and it was refreshing to learn that there are more people with similar tastes and ideas as my own. College is also a place where you can restart yourself; you are not longer bound by any mental image of what other people believe you to be because no one knows you as a freshman, so it is up to you to build yourself in other peoples’ minds as how you want to be.

This will be the only part where I preach to you, but go to parties at college. If you believe a party can only be a party if there is alcohol and/or drugs involved, then I would have to disagree, since there are plenty of better things to do at them. They are a place to meet people, dance, listen to music, chill out, or practically anything else.

On a more personal note, I still have strong feelings for you, and although I do not know whether those feelings are similar from you, I have the patience to wait. You said that you did not want to start anything because then you would become too attached, but if you want to start something a bit more serious next summer, that is fine by me. However, please do not feel that you owe any obligation to me; if you find someone else in the meantime, you will hear no complaints from me.

Just so I do not forget to mention it, the present that came along with this letter is a toothbrush holder. One of my roommates from last year gave it to me, partially because he did not want to have to take it with him back home and partially because I liked it. Besides, when you are living with a few people, having a toothbrush holder like it makes things a bit easier.

All my love,
Eric Joseph

P.S. And whatever you do, please do not lose that sparkle in your eyes.

This was a letter I wrote for Erin, which I attached to the present I gave her. I wrote the letter itself on Tuesday (August 12) and Erin was leaving to go off to college on Wednesday (August 13).

That was all I had written. I will continue on with explaining my thoughts and feelings from here on out.

For the first time in almost four months, I saw Erin last week during Thanksgiving break. My brother, some of his friends (Matt Jakab and John Taylor), and Steve were playing Halo the night that Steve and I had driven back from Pittsburgh. I remember Steve saying that Erin and Allison would be coming over to my place (Something I found mildly surprising; Erin had only ever been to my house one other time), and before the doorbell rang about midnight, I can remember feeling anxious like a race horse just before the start of the race. You know, that "butterflies in my stomach" feeling, only that it feels less dainty than a butterfly and more like you desperately want to do that something right now. Yet, before the doorbell rang, I began feeling relaxed and calm. I had not forgotten that they were coming, but I felt more at ease for some strange reason that I will never understand.

The doorbell rang, and I calmly stood up from the chair that my mother always knits in and I walked to the door like the UPS truck had come; a brisk pace, but not fast. I opened the door to find both Allison and Erin there (Actually, I had not seen Allison in two weeks because she had driven over to Pittsburgh to see Steve from November 15-17), and both of them were quick to give me a hug.

I was overwhelmed with a feeling upon hugging Erin, but I do not know what to call it. Perhaps the best word to describe it was "relief." Upon giving the letter typed above to Erin, I did not know how she would take it. Perhaps she had forgot about it in those four months, but I am sure that it still affected how she thought of me to some degree. Anyways, I think that the hug was confirmation to me that we were still on good terms (Of course, the AIM conversation that we had had about two months earlier had told me that as well, but there is a big difference between virtual and physical contact).

After Allison and Erin came in, they sat in the family room couch and watched Lance and company play some Halo. I sat in my mother's chair and enjoyed gazing at Erin. It was obvious to me that both women were uncomfortable with 18+ year-old men yelling and blowing shit up, even if it was a game, and Steve was the one to invite them into the living room. They sat on one of the white couches, Steve sat on the other, and I sat on the piano bench. From there, we talked for at least a good 45 minutes about college and how life was going, and although I did not notice this until afterwards, I did not really stutter at all. I mention this because I have been having problems lately; perhaps because of increased stress despite a decreased workload, but there were other factors that definitely involved school which I will talk about another time.

Anyways, I was happy. Actually, fuck that; I was completely enthralled. I was seeing Erin for the first time in months, and despite all of the parties at Pitt and all of the online activities I had involved myself in (Which is another story), I had never really felt all that happy. Yet, for every depressed idiot, there is valium; for me, there is Erin. This brings up another question: can I be truly happy without Erin?

But this brings up an even more important question: do I make her happy?

As I think about that question, I am reminded of how I went to Penn State with Brandon (He had driven from Penn State to Pitt just to drive me back so we could party together; the lack of car on my part will be explained later) and how we were sitting around that Saturday afternoon drinking a mixed drink in Meghan's dorm. I forget what brought up the conversation, but somehow, we got to talking about how I felt about Erin. Both Brandon and Meghan (Yes, I just realized that I have even more to explain as far as Brandon and Meghan) already knew that I was crazy about Erin, but Brandon was trying to get me to see things the way that he saw them. Basically, the conversation became Brandon talking about how Erin is Mormon and I am not; I told him that under no circumstances was I about to go as far as becoming a Mormon in order to find my true love since that was beyond compromising. We both came to the conclusion that the chances of me going anywhere in a closer relationship with Erin were highly improbable.

What resulted was a drop of doubt, and drops cause ripples.

I think those ripples were what had hurt me the most. I could handle the direct impact of "Eric, you and Erin will probably never get together" from Brandon, but the ripples are the ones that had the most powerful impact. After returning back to Pitt, I had a month to let that tear me apart from inside. I can remember having that crushing feeling in my chest numerous times to the point that I thought I would break down and cry. However, that feeling was caused by doubts that I had about the relationship, and seeing Erin again was the cure to those doubts; seeing her smile washed away those "It will never work out" thoughts.

However, I am avoiding the question I asked before: do I make Erin happy? Honestly, I do not know the answer to that question. I will try my best to make Erin happy, but that is like promising a small child that their runaway puppy will be back home in the morning; you do not know if you can deliver. I already said to Erin that she makes me want to be a better man, and a part of being that better man includes making the relationship mutual. I mean to say, she can make me happy, but I also want to make her happy in return; there are no one-way streets in a relationship and I do not want to pretend that there may be any.

I am not sure how or why, but I think that Erin had become more beautiful. Perhaps it was like not eating for a few days; since hunger is the best spice, the next thing that you eat will taste amazing. But I digress. Erin is still Erin, and I am still crazy about her.

Erin is the only person that I have ever said "All my love" to, and it is something that I say with complete seriousness behind it.