"You are now property of Anime Academy"

In case you're wondering, I got the idea for this entry's title from "You are now property of the Department of Defense" of Hoo-ah, an account of... just go read it. I'm not about to summarize it, but it's a very good collection of stories. You won't be disappointed.

Written October 23rd, 2004

January 11th, 2004 - Dear student body,
Please give a warm welcome to our newest addition to the Anime Academy Staff: Ender, Professor of Anime Storytelling. With fifteen years of studying anime, Ender brings his many years of expertise to the faculty. Enroll in his classes today!

In case you're too lazy to do the math, it's been more than 10 months since the previous professorship contest. The way that Anime Academy works is it has a staff that contributes to the site; it's not a THEM Anime Reviews or AnimeNfo.Com where any random joker can submit a review when they haven't even watched all of an anime or their sole purpose is to pan a series and nothing more. We take pride in the fact that we strive for honesty, dedication, and integrity, and to do so, we have a staff that has been selected to be a part of Anime Academy because they display qualities that we uphold (or if you want a more romantic version, they were forged in Perdition's flames and came out as Professors!).

We usually have contests every 6 months, but for reasons I don't know (I haven't exactly pressed Kain for an answer; he's in charge, and while it's part of my personality to be aggressively curious, that doesn't mean I shouldn't trust his judgment), there hasn't been one. However, talking with Mugs recently revealed that we might be having a professorship contest in the near future, but I don't determine such things when it comes to Anime Academy. But with a possibility of one happening in the near future, I have decided to write an entry outlining tips on how to deal with the application, a copy of what the previous application looked like, as well as a copy of the application that I e-mailed to become a professor. Be warned: following these tips and my example will not guarantee that you will become a professor, but they will improve your chances.

General tips:

• You don't have to be the best writer. Proper grammar and spelling is always nice, but we value who you are over what you can do. For example, we would like to have a kind, humble staffer who can write average reviews rather than a moody, deceiving staffer who writes excellent reviews (then again, quality in reviewing is subjective).
• Have someone proofread your application before you turn it in. Letting it sit for a few days and picking it back up does not guarantee that you will be able to spot all of the grammatical mistakes. You know what you're trying to say when you write, but other people don't, hence they can spot mistakes much easier.
• Turn in your application at least a few days before the deadline. This will help two people: yourself (so you aren't rushed) and Kain (so he isn't flooded with applications at the very last minute).
• We look for and want honesty. When you're filling out the questionnaire, tell it how it is. If you weren't a part of a fansub group or a site dedicated towards a specific anime, don't lie and say "I did blah blah blah for blah fansub group" or "I love blah blah, so I made a website detailing it".
• When you're writing your review for your application, be honest. If you think that Neon Genesis Evangelion is worth a 100% or a 15%, explain why by using your opinion and facts about the series. We don't want a rehash of reviews already available in the Library. Don't be scared that someone may disagree with your opinion. There is no way to please everyone, and if you become a professor, you job isn't to please everyone (for example, I was honest, gave Saikano a 68%, then proceeded to get shit for it because not everyone agreed with that, but I could have cared less).
• If you blow off your doubts, you won't worry about the outcome, thus you can focus on putting everything you have into it. You're being judged by who you are, so let us know what's going on in your head (i.e. personality, thoughts, opinions, et la).
• If you include your name with your application, that's grounds for immediate disqualification. There is no spot on the application for a name, so don't include it. Likewise, there is no spot for how much anime you own, political affiliation, gender, sexual orientation, or favorite type of peanut butter. Why do we do this? We want to eliminate as much bias as possible.
• Burn your bridges behind you so you can only go forward. By this, I mean that if you're already working for another reviewing or a general anime site, why are you ditching them for Anime Academy? Dedication is a key part of being an Anime Academy professor. If you're ditching someone else for us, what's the chance that you're going to ditch us for something bigger and better? This part speaks volumes about one's character.
• For the review, try to keep it similar to Anime Academy reviews; a few sentences for the summary, 250-500 words for the review, and brief remarks for the highs and lows. For the questionnaire, there is no set limit, so take your time answer the questions as best as you can; however, this is not an invitation to be overly wordy and drag it out. We want to see meat, not fat. Also, if you want to be funny, be funny because that'll get you a few brownie points, but don't lose track of what the application's purpose is.
• Last piece of advice: review an anime that isn't spectacular or trash. Like Kain has said before, it's easy to throw praise or stones at an anime. Half of the application is a review, and it's easier to see how well you review if you choose an anime that you think is more "middle of the road". Need a suggestion? Don't ask me for any; you should be able to think of a few yourself. Besides, it's your opinion.

Okay, so after reading all of that, you probably know how to take on the application... but you don't have an application at the moment, so reading those tips was a waste of your time because there isn't a contest going on. But wait! Here's a copy of the application:

Anime Academy Professorship Application

Part I: Sample Review

Title:
Genre:
Company:
Format:
Summary:
Grade:
Highs:
Lows:
Review:

Part II: Questionnaire

#1. In a small paragraph, detail your anime history, including how you were first introduced to anime and your recent involvement. Mention any projects such as websites, fan subbing or employment.

#2. In a small paragraph, detail what anime means to you and how much of your life is consumed by anime and/or Japanese culture.

#3. What genre of anime is your favorite? Why?

#4. How were you introduced to the Anime Academy? How have you enjoyed the community and campus life thus far?

#5. There are plenty of anime review sites out there. Why are you applying to the Anime Academy?

#6. Do you enjoy writing? Why?

#7. Can you devote yourself enough to the Anime Academy cause to submit at a minimum two reviews every calendar month on a consistent basis?

#8. Please include any comments that you feel may help us better know you or why you should be hired as a Professor.

Lastly, because I'm a nice guy and I'm sure that not everyone still knows how to go about the application, here's a copy of my application. Note how I used the same tips that I listed before, but do not copy exactly what I wrote; trust me, I'll see the final group of applications, and if I find sentences that use the same words or general meaning that I conveyed, I'll pick up on that and get really pissed off.

Anime Academy Professorship Application

Part I: Sample Review

Title: Armored Trooper Votoms, a.k.a. Soukou Kihyou Votoms
Genre: Action
Company: Sunrise
Format: 52 episodes
Summary: A century of open warfare between the rival powers of Balarant and Gilgamesh has destroyed nearly 200 worlds. Now, a cease-fire has settled across the Astragius Galaxy. Chirico Cuvie, a member of Gilgamesh's elite Red Shoulder battalion, is transferred to a new unit for a secret mission. While on the mission, Chirico finds a mysterious and beautiful woman, but is left behind to die in space by his new unit. Who was the woman? Why did his own unit try to kill him? What was the purpose of their mission? As he wonders about these questions, Chirico begins his private war to find the answers.
Grade: 82%
Highs: Great atmosphere; non-stop development; excellent combat sequences
Lows: Forced romance; mediocre seiyuu cast
Review: When you watch a series that is almost as old as you are, there is a dull respect that you normally do not give most anime right off the bat. Armored Trooper Votoms may be a bit rough around the edges, but rest assured, this is a classic anime that is on par with Macross.

Coming from Takahashi Ryousuke, many similarities can be seen between this and some of his latest works, which include Gasaraki and Blue Gender. Despite dated art and animation, it all works very well towards creating the right atmosphere. All of the grit and grime of this futuristic universe can be seen and felt through the art style, and I admit that this helped the series greatly. Spanning 52 episodes, everything is evenly spaced out across four arcs, and with exception for three recap episodes, the entire series lacks any sort of filler, keeping the plot and character development rolling along constantly. Even newer series that are 26 episodes in length seem to be unable to keep everything paced well and are forced to use filler. However, where Armored Trooper Votoms really shines is with its rife and great combat scenes. If you were looking to see old school mecha battles at their prime, your search has ended.

However, even classic anime have their occasional weak spots. The romance between Chirico and Fyana feels forced all of the time: not only do we have two people who suddenly fall in love for little or no reason, but also they are not really compatible at all. Both characters are cold, almost inhuman at times, and neither one really possesses an innate yearning to find love. Despite having a great atmosphere, what prevents Armored Trooper Votoms from having an authentic atmosphere is the fact that the seiyuu cast is, for the most part, bland. At many instances, the acting was just bad, whether these parts were too wooden or overacted.

After watching Armored Trooper Votoms, it is very easy to understand why there are "jaded otaku." You will not find a quality anime saga quite like this being created these days, and it goes to show that there are series that are oldies but still goldies.

Part II: Questionnaire

#1. In a small paragraph, detail your anime history, including how you were first introduced to anime and your recent involvement. Mention any projects such as websites, fan subbing or employment.
I could say that anime has been a part of most of my life, but that would be dishonest. I can remember watching anime as a child and even up through high school, but I never actively pursued it like I do now. If you want a number, I would say that my anime history is two years old, beginning back after I graduated from high school. I have not been actively or inactively involved in the creation of any websites, fan subbing or dubbing, or any employment involving anime.

#2. In a small paragraph, detail what anime means to you and how much of your life is consumed by anime and/or Japanese culture.
To me, anime is a versatile form of animated art of Asian origin. Rarely will you find any Western-made cartoons depicting even some of the vast array of themes taken on by anime, but this mainly comes from a “cartoons are for children” stereotype held by mainstream Western cultures. Anyways, I would say that a healthy portion of my bank account goes towards anime, usually in the form of DVDs. As far as my life being consumed by Japanese culture, I would say that I have a good understanding of Japanese culture as a whole and that I choose to not have my life consumed by it. However, I am taking a Japanese language class come Fall semester of 2003 at University of Pittsburgh in order to gain a better understanding of Japanese culture and language.

#3. What genre of anime is your favorite? Why?
I have no particularly favorite genre. I have seen plenty of good and bad anime in every genre that I feel that no particular genre is better than another, nor do I favor one over another simply because it is all anime. I feel that each anime should be judged based upon its own merits rather than because it fits a certain mold.

#4. How were you introduced to the Anime Academy? How have you enjoyed the community and campus life thus far?
Back in October of 2002, I sort of stumbled upon Anime Academy from out of nowhere. I forget the exact why’s and how’s, but I think what pulled me into Anime Academy was the fair, accurate, and lightly comical reviewing as well as the atmosphere created by everything. As well, I would say that I have thoroughly enjoyed being apart of Anime Academy, in both the Lounge and the IRC channel. The Lounge is particularly more engaging in both mentality and actual content, with exception for the occasional pointless thread. The IRC channel itself is a good place to kick back, chill out, and talk about nearly anything with other staff and students of Anime Academy, but the atmosphere is entirely different.

#5. There are plenty of anime review sites out there. Why are you applying to the Anime Academy?
I have seen many sites that review anime, and while I have found a few sites that give mediocre reviews, the vast majority of them are poor. Anime Academy seems to have a certain blend of wit and intelligence while taking itself seriously without losing track of what its objectives are. I would like to be apart of that and add onto it.

#6. Do you enjoy writing? Why?
Yes, I do enjoy writing quite a lot. In all honesty, my main problem whenever I do write something that is rather long, I have a problem wrapping it all together and creating a good ending. However, if it is short, there is no problem, and although I want to be able to properly write longer compositions, I do realize that I am better at keeping things short and concise. By longer, I mean more than twenty pages. A more direct answer to the “Why” is a bit deeper than that. I have a stutter, which means that I have difficulty verbally expressing myself, therefore, I try to make up for it with a written expression of myself. When I speak, my stutter holds me back; when I write, only my imagination is able to hold me back.

#7. Can you devote yourself enough to the Anime Academy cause to submit at a minimum two reviews every calendar month on a consistent basis?
Yes, I would be able to submit a minimum of two reviews every month were I to be accepted as a professor. However, please note that were I to be accepted as a professor, I would not be able to put forth a lot of time beyond those two reviews for the summer months because of my work schedule, but I would have a lot more time once I get back to college in the Fall.

#8. Please include any comments that you feel may help us better know you or why you should be hired as a Professor.
Given more questions and more space, I am quite positive I would be able to thoroughly answer any other questions as part of the application process.

If you wish to read through some of my online writings and thoughts to get a better feel for who I am and how well I write, here is the site:
http://www.improvisation.ws/mb/showthread.php?s=&threadid=11345

If this application is unreadable, here are other means to view my application:
http://www.pitt.edu/~eaj11/aapa.doc
http://www.pitt.edu/~eaj11/aapa.txt

Thank you for your time.

Now since the purpose of this entry isn't necessarily for reflection, I'll say "fuck it" and reflect away. My Armored Trooper Votoms is so old that I wish I could update it. Seriously, my writing style has gradually evolved because I write a lot for Anime Academy. I see it as an old review of mine that shifts too hard between points, but other than that, there's nothing really wrong with it. I just wish I could rewrite it a bit so the transitions aren't as sudden. And as far as the last question for the questionnaire, the first link is to my old blog (which turned into this blog) and the other two Pitt links are dead. Anyways, after reading my application again, I can see why I was chosen to become a professor (particularly my answer to #6).

With regards for the professorship contest, I've just given you the tools to write up a helluva application. However, it's up to you to use those tools properly. And don't think "if I follow everything that he said, I'll become a professor" because that isn't the case. What I've done will definitely help you, but it won't guarantee that you will come out on top of everyone else. In the end, you still need to have the right personality and skills to get accepted.

Good luck.

Foreseeable Addiction

Upon reading this, I knew that an Anime Academy-sanctioned Annie May comic wasn't merely a joke or an idea that was going to be forgotten in a day. I say that because I've been told that people at Anime Academy once wanted to make a comic/manga for the site, but that dream was never realized. Well, that'll change. Hey, there was even once an t-shirt thread that completely fizzled out as well, and look at the Campus Store now!

Anyways, this one student, furi_kuri, drew some excellent Annie May conceptual art. The one I like best is this one, and another student, Ritalin, beautifully colored the picture in here. furi_kuri drew another Annie May piece here, and I find it strongly reminding me of Belledandy from Ah! My Goddess. Or am I going senile in my old age?

For this entry, game links will be linked to GameFAQs except for those pertaining to World of Warcraft. In general, expect a lot of links.

Written October 3rd, 2004

I think I've found my new addiction, and its name is World of Warcraft.

At one point in my life, I was an avid gamer. I made frequent trips to Electronic Boutique every time I was at the Harrisburg East Mall even though I couldn't drive, I downloaded untold numbers of shareware and demo and movies for games, and I would swap games with my good friend, Aaron Freeman. This all happened in middle and high school, and even with sports and a minimal amount of disposable income, I rocked the shit out of every single-player game from Joust and Super Mario Bros. 3 to Shogo: Mobile Armor Division and Homeworld. If I wasn't nuking GDI in Command & Conquer, I was blasting away mutants in Fallout 2. And I loved every second of it (despite the fact that this ultimately led to poor social adaption later in life).

In my freshman year of college, I finally discovered the joys of multiplayer. My days rapidly became filled with two forms of digital crack: Half-Life: Counter-Strike and Diablo II.

Counter-Strike was a great game. Nothing beat blasting through terrorists with a deagle or getting into knife fights. However, my Pitt clan, uP|, fell apart because of our leader (short story: we were practicing one night and he wanted us to try some tactics, but someone shot him in the face and he stormed off of the server, never to return again), and subsequent attempts to revive it failed. Besides, Counter-Strike outgrew its stay when 9 out of 10 people would pull out an automatic weapon on me while both of us were locked in the middle of a knife fight.

So I was left with Diablo II, but I was a noob on there. My eyes sparkled when I read all about a specific set, Milabrega's Regalia, and I just had to have it. I spent days trying to trade what little I had for each individual piece, and I was so happy when I got all of it. However, I was so upset when two kids duped me (translation: they tricked me and got my Milabrega's Regalia set), and I just about quit the game on the spot. While I was waiting in one of Blizzard's help channels (I honestly thought that they would help me get my stuff back, but I was ignorant to believe so), someone with a high-level character (I honestly forget his name, but I do remember leveling with him a few times about 3 or 4 months down the road) listened to my problem and simply told me, "There's plenty of better shit to find out there than sets, and go make a few friends while you're at it". So I went in search of better stuff and friends, and once I began making friends on the US East server, I started rolling with the big boys and the big toys and I couldn't stop. My days were filled with Chaos Sanctuary runs and skipping class. I became a part of classic's (read: non-Lord of Destruction characters) thumbing-its-nose-at-the-norm "clan" (I say "clan" because we didn't consider ourselves to be a true clan), Soul Brothers. I can remember talking for hours to friends, both new and old, leveling characters to high levels in very little time, and pking (player killing) everyone using any dirty trick I knew. I loved the idea that I was a good friend of the Godfather of US East's first level 99 player, Sharp_Arrows a.k.a. Sean. And I loved it. I still have hundreds of screenshots, and I'll occasionally look through them all, letting waves of nostalgia wash over me like fresh spring water. Did I mention that I loved it?

Eventually, reality caught up to me, and I soon realized that Ds and Fs weren't cutting it. My second semester of college was completely fucked, and I eventually retired from Diablo II (but only after finding out that powerful Lord of Destruction weapons were somehow finding their way into classic; that was the nail in my Diablo II coffin). I moved away from games for the longest of time and eventually found myself watching anime more and more. Long story short, that's how I got into anime.

Late in my junior year, I got back into games with The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind; words cannot properly describe how much fun it was. That quasi-fucked my grades a bit; I blew through the game in a week, taking it apart from end to end, but didn't do a few important class assignments and projects. I killed Morrowind's fun by literally going around to every town and killing every person I could find, but that wouldn't fix my grades much. Beyond a certain point, there wasn't much I could do, so I said, "Fuck it".

Now it's early in my senior year and I'm drolling over World of Warcraft when I should be chasing after a girlfriend. I blame Andy, one of my roommates, this time; had he not signed up for the beta test a year ago, downloaded all 2.4gB of content, and showed it to me, I wouldn't be eyeing it like a fat man at an all-you-can-eat steak buffet. I began going online and reading about every aspect that I could, coming to slowly understand the ways that it worked and the method to its madness. Hell, I already have my first character planned out in my mind: a female Night Elf rogue with skinning and leatherworking trade skills named EekRogue on the PvP (Player versus Player) server. For my second character, I was thinking about making a female (I'm not sure what it is with my tendency to choose females; perhaps some repressed, feminist empowerment desire of mine?) Human warrior with mining and blacksmithing trade skills named (you guessed it) EekWarrior on the PvP server. However, such character designs are tenative at the moment, but they sound like a lot of fun to me. I know that I'll buy the game and pay for at least one month's service, but I'll be playing the shit out of the game, every spare waking moment spent leveling and killing anything that looks at me the wrong way... or doesn't look at me at all.

So yeah, this semester just might be screwed hard and sideways. It should be fun. If anyone wants to play with me on the World of Warcraft US PvP server sometime, my account name will probably be stimsenjkat or something like that since it was the name of my old Diablo II account, but that account name is tenative.

The Duality of Laughter

I'm sorry for taking so long to write my next entry, but I've had a lot of school work as of late. I'll still keep trying to update my blog at least twice a week, but I know I'll break that promise sooner rather than later.

Also, I'm excited to see this. Why? An Anime Academy serialized comic would be cool as hell. The idea has great potential, and it's been put into practice rather well in this thread. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I feel very enthusiastic for this project, and I hope it becomes realized. There's more than plenty of steam from the staff and students for this.

And I hope you enjoy this entry. I sure did. ;)

Written October 16th, 2004

After one particular incident, I learned that laughter expresses two aspects of the human mind: amusement caused by something or someone and the release of tension.

It was a late July or early August 2004, and Matt Wilson’s ex-girlfriend Karen and her family went away for a vacation somewhere (I forget where exactly, but the where isn’t particularly necessary). Karen had told Matt that he was allowed to have some friends over at her house because he had agreed to watch her dogs. An exchange of services for privileges, if you will.

As with all good stories, some backstory knowledge is required to fully gain appreciation and understanding for the entire comedy of errors which will transpire. Matt and Karen had been going out for more than two years when they broke up in early July 2004. Now, Matt’s friends (Brandon and I) had been pressuring him to dump her since the previous summer; we had been doing this not because we were bad friends but because we were good friends. Karen was an extremely negative influence upon him. For example, she had dared him numerous times to break up with her (I witnessed one firsthand and had only heard phone messages before), made him spend a large portion of his paychecks on her, and was usually found yelling at him over stupid bullshit (like how he forgot something, was late, didn’t see her everyday, etc.). In short, it was a relationship gone sour, and the fact that Brandon and I had a mutual hate for her or that Matt had noted on quite a few occasions that she/he wasn’t the same person anymore didn’t help matters. So after two years of fucking (but no sucking – striking), dating, yelling, and screaming, Matt decided to break up. Following the break up, it didn’t help matters that Matt and Karen were still “together” (not officially, but they fucked around a bit, called each other, and hung out some), but this incident tore them apart permanently all thanks to Matt, Brandon, Lance, and myself.

So quick reminder: while Karen’s family was away, they asked Matt to watch the dogs and said he could have friends over. Now, the part we all liked was the last portion. Basically, we had ourselves a home away from home for a week, and we didn’t care at all if we trashed the place (but we refrained from doing so). Now, to four college guys who didn’t like Karen or her family (Matt was borderline at this point), this is paradise; get a bunch of strippers, add lots of alcohol and illicit substances, and you’ve got a small slice of heaven. Even without the strippers, you’re talking loads of fun. End of backstory.

If I remember correctly, we showed up on a Wednesday evening at Karen’s house with a bottle of E&J Cask & Cream Brandy and a case of Guinness Stout, and we intended to make our cheap version of Irish Carbombs. The very first thing I did was terrorize the dogs simply because they were Karen’s. One was an okay mop (stick a broomstick up their asses and they would look like mops) while the other was just flat out scared of us. After chasing them all around the backyard and pool, I went inside the house… to find that the family had turned off all of the air-conditioning. Now, it was about 7:00pm and it had already begun cooling down outside, but the inside of the house had just gotten done being baked by the hot August sun (I’m more sure now that that was the month). The first thing we did was throw our alcohol into the refrigerator, and then we proceed to turn on everything that would make the house cooler (note: it was blazing in there for the rest of the night and we were sweating like pigs). So what was the first thing we did? Carbombs! Unfortunately, E&J’s tastes like straight brandy, but fortunately, Karen’s mom and step-father just happened to be alcoholics. Upon exploring the refrigerator, we found at least 7 bottles of wine poorly hidden behind some food and, to our surprise, a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream sitting right on the door. So what did we do? For the time being, we just used the Baileys, and just so I don’t have to remember to mention it later, we killed the Baileys and filled the bottle with the cheap E&J (remember kids: just because the label is similar does not mean that it tastes the same).

So after we all had a few Carbombs, Brandon broke out the weed. Now, I don’t smoke weed anymore nor did I at the time that this story took place, but that didn’t stop Brandon, Lance, and Matt from blazing a few bowls. And while they were getting all set up, we grabbed a television, a VCR, multiple extension cords, and put all this together by the pool. I found a copy of Heat and decided that we should watch it, but I didn’t watch more than 10 minutes of it (Brandon, Matt, and Lance watched it in full the next day and they loved it). Anyways, we swam a bit in the pool while watching Heat, and Brandon used the pool as part of his Gravity Bong. With Carbombs and some weed in them, Brandon, Matt, and Lance were pretty much gone for the night.

But shame on us for ordering pizza from Papa John’s. Why order pizza when you have a kitchen filled with food? Hey, we might have dug into some of what treasures the kitchen provided (like the Texas Garlic Toast), but we didn’t dive into the kitchen with too much confidence because we weren’t at home yet with the whole concept of this place being ours for a week. So we ordered pizza, David Gattens (a friend of Lance’s, and now that David transferred to Penn State, Brandon’s friend) came over for a bit, and we proceeded to eat lots of unhealthy food. Loads of fun, believe me, but Brandon and I left at midnight because we had work at 4:00am and 7:00am, respectively. For a first night, it couldn’t have gotten much better.

The next day, I got out of work by 3:00pm or thereabout, but I didn’t come over to Karen’s house until 8-9:00pm. I forget exactly what I was doing, but I imagine I was watching anime, writing a review, talking on IRC, or something of the sort. So while I wasn’t there, Brandon, Matt, and Lance had been at Karen’s house for the entire afternoon eating, barbequing Hatfield pork products, smoking weed, and shooting BB guns (the latter I heard about later on, but I could never positively confirm it).

So I finally came over about 8-9:00pm, and I immediately began drinking one of the remaining Guinness Stouts. And then I started exploring the refrigerator more daringly. In a few minutes time, I had already found a 2-liter bottle of flat Dr. Pepper about a quarter filled, 4 to 6 small plastic baskets filled with moldy blueberries (and I don’t mean peach fuzz; I mean the shit had a full-grown beard), and numerous other foodstuffs that had gone bad long before our arrival the previous day. So I decided to help out Karen’s family by pitching it all. Then we decided to help the family a bit more by doing a little summer cleaning with the refrigerator and freezer; hey, it wasn’t our food, so we had no qualms about eating any of it. We ended up cleaning out the rest of the Texas Garlic Toast (yes, heart attack-inducing bread, but it was so delectable), made a huge plate of scrambled eggs out of a dozen eggs and various edible (read: not rotten) meats and cheeses, killed off the English muffins and had them with the eggs, and proceeded to bake an entire bag of French fries (at this point, we were stuffed, and the only reason why I wanted to make the fries was to waste them; a scorched earth tactic, per say).

Also, I cannot forget to mention that Lance found a small butane torch in a cabinet. I ended up torching some stuff (like the eggs) and melting other things (like the dog bowl outside, but I was trying to make the water in it boil). It was a fun little tool that I must play with another time.

Anyways, Brandon, Lance, and myself were having fun eating good food and chatting while Matt was sleeping on the couch in the living room while really high (if I remember, he had the television on with Aaron Brown airing). I walked from the counter we were eating at to the oven to check the French fries when I suddenly saw car lights out the kitchen window. Thinking that it was a car driving on the road (even though I couldn’t see the road because of the angle the window was facing), I blew it off, checked the fries, put them back into the oven, and walked back to the counter.

Two minutes later, a rather tall man walked into the house, and I had never seen him before. The three of us at the counter stared at him and he stared right back, a fragile silence filling the air between everyone during this rather surreal moment. The first thought that ran through my mind was that it was probably an uncle of Karen’s who was staying the night and leaving in the morning for his hunting camp or whatnot; I mean, who else shows up at a house after 11:00pm?

He made the first move. He lumbered his way over to the living room, spotted Matt on the couch, and bellowed, “Matt, you’ve got some explaining to do”. Upon hearing this, we were immediately on edge, and at this point, I would have rather been eating molten steel in the Sahara Desert than here. Warning klaxons were going off in my mind, and I didn’t know why I should be worrying; the house wasn’t wrecked, the air-conditioning was on (and it felt very good), Karen’s family was scheduled to be away on vacation for at least another 5 days, and the dogs were still alive. The only thing I should have been worrying about was getting home in the next hour so I could get plenty of sleep.

While all of this was running through my mind, Matt awoke in a high-as-the-moon stupor, and we began cleaning up trash and dirty dishes (which wasn’t much). Again, the man asked Matt, “Do you mind explaining this?” Matt’s eyes were half-shut and he was as mute as a tree. The man walked out onto the back porch and began staring at what I can only imagine were the melted remains of the dog bowl and the scorch mark surrounding it.

Spotting an opportunity, I leaned over to Matt, who was scrubbing some dishes, and asked him, “Who the fuck is that?”

“That’s Karen’s step-father.”

All of my stories need these earth-shattering plot twists, but then I know that I wouldn’t be able to take it all. One doesn’t go through life truly wishing for it to be too interesting.

Anyways, we threw away the tray of half-baked French fries and whatever garbage was lying around. Once again, the step-father walked back in, asked Matt, “Just what is going on here”, received only silence in response, and walked out onto the porch to make a phone call (presumably to the rest of the family).

While he was out on the back porch, I decided that it’s time for a prison break (and this was coming from a guy who never usually plays leader with his friends). In a loud whisper, I said, “Guys, let’s get the fuck out of here now.” Auspiciously, no one disagreed.

Now, there are a few things to keep in mind. First, Brandon, Matt, and Lance are still really high. Second, the step-father parked on the side of the house, not the front or driveway, and he was walking in and out of the back door (the same one that led to the back porch, backyard, and swimming pool), so we had a clear shot through the front door to our cars. Lastly, Lance had been driven over by Brandon, so his truck wasn’t around.

So we made our break for freedom. Matt grabbed some stuff and a garbage bag on the way out while the rest of us are bolted for the cars. I reached mine on the curb first, didn’t see Lance behind me, and began waiting. Brandon got into his car on the curb and sped off, and Matt wasn’t far behind him; he hopped into his jeep on the driveway and got out pretty quickly. In the meantime, I began freaking out and getting very pissed off to the point that I start screaming obscenities at my steering wheel; Lance still hadn’t come out of the house. Now, I might not be on the best of terms with my brother (now and at the time that all of this transpired), but I’ll be damned if I was going to let some dumbfuck alcoholic beast corner my brother. Suffice to say, in the time that Lance wasn’t outside and I was waiting for him, I was seriously coming up with a contingency plan that involved the step-father’s jugular vein being neatly sliced and his remains being found a decade later.

A mere 30 seconds later, Lance walked out the front door and got into my car. What was his excuse? “I was looking for my beach towel”. Yes, that was just one more reason why I don’t smoke pot anymore: because I don’t want to be high, be put into a hectic situation, and do something that fucking stupid.

Following our desperate exodus from a house we once called paradise (or just making a poor attempt at referencing an old Green Day song), we met up in front of my house and proceeded to laugh and talk all about what had happened. This was when I began learning how laughing sheds tension remarkably well. After a good 15 minutes of venting our stress, we told Matt (who was still really high and almost non-responsive) to contact Karen somehow; it would’ve been best had she heard it from Matt first than from the step-father. Fortunately, it wasn’t destined to happen; Karen had left her cell phone at home because she couldn’t find the charger before she left for her vacation and the hotel phone number the family had given Matt was a wrong number. Shit happens.

However, the story and the shit didn’t end there. Not by a long shot. The next day, I called Matt from work and he told me that he’d received a series of three phone calls on his cell phone.

The first was from the step-father. He promptly told Matt that he had missed his business flight to Chicago (side question: why spend less than two days on vacation? That sounds like a waste of time; if I had been him, I would’ve just stayed home) because he spent the entire night cleaning up our "mess"; I don’t know what mess he was referring to because the house was trashed when we first got there and we probably made it cleaner. Also, he demanded that Matt put the house key into their mailbox and never come there ever again (later that day, Matt waited for the step-father to leave and then wisely used the opportunity to grab his and Lance’s stuff that they had forgotten).

The second phone call was from Tim, Karen’s older brother. You have to understand something: Tim is a part-timer at life (part-time electrician, part-time Hersheypark Catering blue tag, and part-time National Guardsman), so that should tell you right away that he’s a few lamb chops short of a mixed grill or otherwise he would have a full-time job. In the phone conversation, Tim basically yelled at Matt, telling him all about how the family was going to be home soon, how they were going to have a long talk with him, and how he wasn’t going to “weasel his way out of this one”. Judging by the major points of Tim’s phone call, he wasn’t happy with Matt nor was he going to give him any leeway.

The last phone call was from Karen herself, and she proceeded to cry her little heart dry or something melodramatic like that. From what I came to understand, she was acting like we had filleted her mutts, left their flesh out on the clothesline to bleach in the sun, fed the organs to the crows, dinned on the succulent ribs and legs, and bathed in their blood. Or something else overblown and disgusting like that that I’m merely using to illustrate a point. Yeah, Karen was and is a few trash bags short of a dumpster, too.

I strongly believe that their knee-jerk reaction was partially our fault (we hadn’t said a damn word to the step-father), but the reaction also lacked a certain something that wasn’t prevalent in their family: logic. I’ll give them this but nothing else: they probably didn’t want us (except Matt) in their house. However, they even said that Matt was allowed to have friends over and no restrictions or implied limits were made. What about the food? What we ate could’ve been covered by $10. Any other costs incurred? Perhaps the bottle of Baileys, but we filled it back up; sure, it might have been a cheaper brand, but it was cream liqueur nevertheless. What of the melted dog bowl and scored portion of the porch? The dog bowl was some cheap, piece of shit whipped cream container that was easily replaceable, and the wood porch itself… oh well. My bad. That was stupid on my part, and I wasn’t even drunk, so I have no excuse. Regardless, the step-father overreacted and didn’t even try to play it cool at all, and the rest of the family went overboard as well. I half-expected them to sue us, but nothing of the sort ever came to be.

Does the story stop there? Oh no, we’ve got a little ways to go just yet.

Karen and the rest of her family came home a few days later (or maybe the next weekend; I’m not 100% sure on that part) and told Matt to come over so they could talk it out (read: bitch him out because they knew he would take it without defending himself too much; Matt is a nice guy, but he doesn’t exactly stick up for himself all the time). Brandon, Meghan, and Lance went with Matt over to Karen’s house, and in the meantime, I was at home watching anime or something of the sort (just so I don’t give the wrong impression, I wasn’t at home watching anime all the time, but I just happened to be in the middle of watching Planetes a second time).

In short, I missed quite a bit of fun. In long, Brandon, Meghan, Matt, and Lance came back to my house about an hour after they left with quite a story. However, this next part is all what I’ve been told, so having not experienced it, I cannot remember everything as well as I should nor do I recall all of the details relayed to me, but I’ll try my best.

Brandon, Meghan, Matt, and Lance showed up at Karen’s house in Brandon’s car and proceeded to speak to the family in a rational manner. The entire family (I haven't mentioned the youngest brother, Mike, because he never really comes into play with any of this, but he was here at this event) except Tim was there to greet my boys. From the beginning, it was apparent that the step-father was drunk because his speech was mildly slurred and actions greatly exaggerated.

The first thing the step-father did was place blame on my boys for shooting BB guns and endangering the lives of the family next door (of the two neighbors, one was an old family while the other was a younger family with a baby nary several months old; he was talking about the younger family). So what did my boys do? They went next door and proceeded to speak to the man of the house. Holding his infant child, he came outside to answer any questions. Upon being asked if my boys had endangered the lives of his family, the man said that he had no idea what we were talking about; he knew that we had been next door, but he never once felt threatened by our presence.

In essence, the step-father was caught in a lie.

Trapped in a war of words, the step-father proceeded to tell Matt all about how he was a lazy slacker and a good-for-nothing boyfriend. What did Matt do? He told him that he’s a horrible step-father.

Matt’s response set off the step-father, and what was once a war of words became a war of fists.

The step-father didn’t hesitate to start strangling Matt with his bare hands on his lawn in front of neighbors and family. Now, Matt might know quite a lot of Russian martial arts, but he wasn’t in the right state of mind to be physically fighting anyone. As soon as Matt was suddenly attacked, two things immediately happened: first, Karen and her mother began crying and wailing for them to stop, and second, Brandon ran up behind the step-father and put him into a choke hold while yelling, “Let go of him” multiple times. Brandon is a big guy (at least 6’2”), but while the step-father had a few inches on him, there was no contest. In seconds, the step-father got weak in the knees and began falling to the ground while releasing his grip on Matt’s throat. Not wanting to kill the old guy, Brandon let him out of the choke hold only to find the step-father turning as he fell. He reached out for Brandon’s legs, but he only grasped air as Brandon began taking steps back to prevent the step-father from even touching him.

If I remember correctly, this was when Lance finally decided that he shouldn’t use his cell phone camera to take a few pictures of the unfolding situation and he actually got involved. He grabbed the step-father’s legs and pulled him back, not by much, but enough to turn his drunken attention away from Brandon. So the step-father returned his attention to Matt, and while still on his knees, he once again tried strangling Matt. At this point, Matt was sort of in a fighting state of mind, and he wisely deflected the man’s hands, signaling the poor bastard’s defeat and the end of the Jerry Springer-like fight.

As the victorious party began walking back to Brandon’s car, Karen, still crying her eyes red, came running up to Brandon and began slapping/clawing at his chest. While she screamed out random obscenities and how much she hated him, Brandon only stood in place and laughed at her futile actions. Less than a minute later, Brandon, Meghan, Matt, and Lance were on the road, leaving Karen in their wake to cry.

With regards to this last part, I wish I had been there to see it all transpire; that would at least allow me to tell a more accurate story. However, had I been there, I fear I would’ve gotten involved in the fight, and had that happened, I might’ve gone berserk on the step-father. Seeing his dead, crumpled body wouldn’t have been out of a realm of possibility had I been there, so I’m not that terribly disappointed by missing out on seeing it firsthand.

Overall, I see this as a dramatic and fitting end to Matt and Karen’s relationship. This sequence of events permanently burned whatever bridge Matt had to Karen, and that’s a good thing. When Brandon, Meghan, Matt, and Lance came back to my house to tell me of their fun, I could hear that certain tone in their laughter, a tone of tension being released. Sure, they were laughing at the sequence of comedy that they’d experienced, but with that sudden pressure taken away and being in a secure place (my house), the tension was free to be released. I laughed with them, but mine was a different laughter; I hadn’t just experienced a deeply stressful situation like they had. And while I had read about it before, I never fully understood the duality of laughter until then.

Amusing Drunk Story

I wanted to update yesterday, but I've been a bit busy as of late. I know that my grades will suffer for this, but writing is a passion I just cannot deny.

Written October 1st, 2004

Late last night, Steve and I had to carry Brian back to our place. Oh, I had a blast... yeah.

Every Thursday night, our house goes to Hemingways for $2.50 Long Island Iced Teas or $1 Miller Lite drafts. After learning my lesson a few weeks back, I've decided to just stick with beer at the bar. Now, the night I'm speaking of in this entry wasn't exactly a heavy drinking night; Steve and I had two beers because we were just chilling. However, Brian had decided sometime in the evening that he was going to drink 7 Long Islands... in two hours. The last time I had even 2 Long Islands in an hour didn't exactly make my night; the results weren't disastrous, but I was definitely hammered. Now, Brian might be about twice my weight, but 7 was too much. So after Brian killed #7, we went over to The O for fries, and by we, I mean Steve, Brian, Kelly, Jess (I think those were the names of the girls), and myself. After a half-hour of eating fries, wearing Brian's glasses, and chatting with Kelly (Brian's cute lab partner), we decided to get out and go home. Well, it wasn't as simple as that.

But I left out an important detail: Brian was fucked up. For the entire time we were at The O, he rested his head on the table, mumbled about whatever, and wouldn't drink any water we gave him. After discussing it outside, we decided that Brian should come back to our house because Jess (I swear this girl's chin came out further than her nose) didn't want puke in her van. Well speak of the devil! As soon as Kelly and Jess walked around the corner, Brian proceeds to puke all over the sidewalk many times. Now, keep in mind that it's a late Thursday night and there are plenty of people walking all over the sidewalks of Oakland; pedestrians are barely dodging Brian's spew. A nice panhandler (that sounds like an oxymoron) walked inside The O and got Brian some napkins; Steve later commented that he wished that he had had change to give the guy, and this is coming from someone that only gives 50¢ to beggars every semester. After wiping puke off of him, we had a fun time walking the 5 blocks home, trying to keep the cops from suspecting anything (but it isn't like Oakland cops are going to do anything).

But Steve is Steve, and the night was Thursday, and Thursday night is trash night. As soon as he saw our house, the first words out of his mouth are, "Yo Brian, feel like moving our trash to the curb?" Bad move. Brian basically sat on our hot neighbors' (Kristin, Mandy, Meg, Heather, and Kate) porch steps for the next 20 minutes. Then getting him up afterwards was a pain in the ass, but the fun part was trying to get him up our stairs. As soon as he flopped down in the living room couch, he was dead asleep. I spoke to Steve about our hot neighbors (I'll have to put up some pictures of them sometime), and then I went back to my room to play some more Homeworld 2.

Now the funny part was a half-hour later when Dave and Chris came back from Duquesne. Steve rushed into m room laughing like a jackal and told me to come downstairs. I hurry on downstairs to find Brian still passed out but with marker all over him (as it would turn out, the marker wasn't permanent, but you wouldn't know if you saw the pictures). I ran upstairs, grabbed my camera, practically fell down the steps on my way back down, hoping that Brian wouldn't wake up anytime soon. I got three pictures (the first had no flash) of a penis on his forehead and legs, a Hitler mustache, and something written on his leg. It was a moment to remember.

I later found out, after talking with JD and Koop, that Brian had moved around in the living room about three times. I never found out why, only that he scared the shit out of Koop because of his positioning and that JD found him in a chair with his head cocked at an impossibly uncomfortable position.

Okay, not a great story, but it makes for good party conversation. As sick as this sounds, what would've made for a great party conversation would've been if Brian had died of alcohol poisoning and Dave and Chris used permanent marker on him; I'm sure they would've been scarred for life with the weight of a dead friend on their conscious. One can only imagine...

Game

Another note: For consistency purposes, I'm only going to link whatever it is that I link in my entries the first time that I link it, and I'm only going to link anime that can be found in the Anime Academy Library. Entries themselves will also be considerably shorter; I'm not going to load them up with a bunch of angsty filler, needless reflection, and repetitive introspection. Also, I'm going to try to update a few times every week so I force myself to write on a consistent basis.

And as of this writing, my computer has overheated twice, so I've lost two versions of this entry already. Believe me, I don't like having to rewrite this, but the third time just might be a charm.

Written September 26th, 2004

As I stood with my back against the wall while watching a beer pong game, Carolyn stopped shooting to look over at me and ask if we'd been in the same class before. Having thought that I'd known the answer for a long time, I quickly responded that we'd had the same freshman year Creative Writing class. However, she dismissed that as a possibility because she said that she'd never had a freshman year writing class. As I went back to quietly standing beside the beside the table, I couldn't come up with any answers. Stumped, I went up to my room to check on Pitt's Account Management to see what other classes I'd taken in the past. Unfortunately, the site was down for the evening, and I sat in my chair, thinking hard, until I found the answer.

Coming back downstairs, I went back to standing by the beer pong table. Then I told Carolyn that we'd been in the same Public Speaking class (the same one that I spoke about in A Monster Called Jealousy), and with the combination of alcohol and playing a losing game of beer pong against Steve and Koop, I suddenly had her full attention; it was like the answer was equivalent to hearing her dream guy tell her "I love you" (that's a stretch, but bear with me). For a good 90 seconds, her attention was focused on recalling memories of that dreadful class and our classmates. There wasn't much to say; she remembered that I had sat in the front row on the far left for the entire semester (seeing as how I stutter and it was a class focused on speaking, it isn't difficult to imagine how she remembered such a minute detail such as that; everytime I made a speech, I stumbled along like I always do, and that's probably what made her remember me) and that our class was filled with jocks (she knew because she's a sports medicine major). She then mentioned that one of the baseball players was really cute, and my mildly-inebriated, knee-jerk response was, "I'm not gay, so I don't care". That immediately killed all further dialogue, and I discovered a new conversation stopper.

(That's a misnomer. This was my second experience with this conversation tactic and it showed me its effectiveness. I initially discovered it at work in June when two very cute "bosses" of mine, Kristen and Amber, walked into the Foods Warehouse. Kristen was telling me something unimportant and Amber was standing about, waiting for her co-worker to get done. Kristen said some kid's name, acting like I should make note of who he is, and I responded with something like, "I'm not going to marry him, so I don't care about his name". Amber immediately dropped the hammer and said that both of them were going to leave. I merely rolled my eyes and sat back down since I could care less about their babbling, even if they are cute.)

When we went to Walmart a day later, I found myself telling Steve and Koop what I'd said, and then I said, "That's probably why I don't have any game". I laughed after I said that lest I cry for the pathetic person known as myself.

I sit here and think that Carolyn wouldn't have said that had I been a cute guy; just like most men, most women wouldn't have the audacity to say anything of the sort when they're in front of a cute person of the opposite sex. Of course, this does depend upon the relationship between the individuals, but even if they're merely acquaintances, some guy doesn't want to hear about a cute guy just as much as a girl doesn't want to hear about a cute girl. In general conversation, such mentions themselves are a break in the atmosphere and the tempo even when neither party is attempting to have sex with the other. So from that perspective, I don't regret telling Carolyn what I did. But when I spoke to Dave about it, he merely said that I should've joked around and said something like, "Yeah, I think he's hot".

Yet this leaves the question "Why don't I have any game up" up in the air. As has been my policy for years, I'm not after a fling despite my toys with such ideas. But here I am: a 21-year old college guy who has never had an intimate relationship with anyone and whose future is set in Silly Putty. Well, scratch out "guy" and replace it with "boy"; as sad as it is, I still have much more growing up to do before I'd be considered an adult by the rest of the world. However, I'm merely dodging the question posed. The answer: unsure. I could go off on a nature versus nurture rant, arguing between a lack of good looks and a lack of a stronger feminine presence in my youth and adolescence.

Paraphrasing Tyler Durden: "[We have] No Great Depression... Our Great Depression is our lives".

Oh, and this third time was a charm.

End of the Pursuit

Note: For the past week or so, I've been getting back into the writing mood, so I'll take time during class to write whatever it is that's on my mind. Even out of class, I'll spend long hours at the beer pong table writing thoughts and feelings, so I've got a few pieces on hand that I'll put up in the near future. They aren't exact copies; I prefer taking advantage of a computer so I can include extra remarks, correct any mistakes, and just improve on my writing in general. Also, I'm including the dates that they were originally written on just for accuracy purposes.

Written October 4th, 2004

I'm not joking in the least when I say that I firmly believe that Erin Schmucker killed what little idealism I had left.

I won't regurgitate the entire story of Erin; if you're reading this, you should know it already or know how to find out. Anyways, I gave Erin what she wanted; she said that she didn't want to get into a serious relationship during the summer of 2003, and I told her that I would wait until the summer of 2004. Well, it's October 4th, and I'm still single.

One Friday night in early May, I used Meghan's cell phone (I didn't have reception on mine at the time) to call up Erin, and I promptly told her that I wanted to speak to her on Sunday. Face-to-face. I'm sure she knew exactly what was coming; she isn't stupid. All she told me to do was to give her a call before I came over. Sunday came and I gave her a call. I got her sister Amy, and she said that she would have Erin call me back since she wasn't home; I knew the game and told her that I would call her back in a half-hour. I called her back a half-hour later; the answering machine mocked me. I called back again and got the same response. By this point, I was getting pissed off, and against my mom's opinion, I hopped into my car (which brings up another subject: my dad gave away my perfectly good 1986 Dodge Aries and bought me a 1998 Ford Escort before the start of the summer) and drove over to Erin's house. Minutes before arriving, I called one last time only to be unsuccessful. As I pulled up to the driveway, who do you think came out of the Schmucker household about to go to the neighbor's house?

Erin.

I could've been a fucking asshole at that point; it was very well within my power and ability, but I refrained from doing so. But I didn't mince words either: I cut through the pleasantries, gave her both barrels like I had 11 months prior, and verbally cornered her. And for the second and final time, she told me, "No". I can remember a bitter taste welling up in my mouth, the feeling of someone crunching your favorite childhood toy beneath their heel without any regrets, but I swallowed the taste and acted like I'd had a weight taken off of my shoulders. Instead of blowing up, I only smiled and began talking about her all about the great party we had had the previous night (I'll tell you that story whenever Amanda gets me the pictures; she's another story). Eventually, I got to talking all about alcohol, its effects on people, Blood Alcohol Content/Concentration, etc.; hey, why not reveal all of these secrets I was hiding from her now that we'd been permanently cemented as merely friends? And I did so with no regrets. (In case you don't get it, I was hammered the previous night. But like I said, another story for another time. Did I forget to add that Erin showed up at the point that I had one eye closed because I was seeing double? I doubt that her seeing me wasted was what made her decision, but you never know.)

Despite the realization that I'd wasted 11 months chasing after a girl that didn't want to have anything to do with me beyond being friends, I decided to drop any grudge that I held against her following our talk.

Yet, insult was added to injury, and I cannot forgive that. A few weeks later, we (Brandon, Meghan, Steve, Allison, Erin and her whole family, Amanda, Aaron (another story!), myself, and numerous people I didn't know) had a pool party at Erin's house. After many rounds of volleyball and wrestling in the pool, things began winding down as we toweled ourselves off. Allison was talking to Mrs. Schmucker and I was standing nearby, idling or staring at my new rope burn on my side or something of the sort, but I had my ears perked like I usually do. Suddenly, Mrs. Schmucker said something to the effect of how Erin had been looking for a boyfriend for a long time and no one wanted to be it; at this point, I got incredibly pissed off, muttered a few obscenities, and was angry for the rest of the evening. I had no problem with letting her have her way and just keeping things at a friendship level, but when friends can't say important things such as that to each other, that's crossing the line. Beyond that, I saw it from another perspective: this girl had been looking for a boyfriend, but apparently, I wasn't good enough to fill those shoes; Mrs. Schmucker said that any man who wanted to be Erin's boyfriend had to have a lot of energy to keep up with her, but I wasn't even given a chance.

My one lasting regret is that I didn't tell her how pissed off that made me. As I spoke to her one last time on the phone on a late July afternoon, that was the one thing I forgot to tell her, and I know that it will burn a hole in me until I do.

I remember watching Maison Ikkoku in my junior year at college, and despite that it's an anime, it made me believe that simple persistence and heart would see me through in my pursuit of Erin. How wrong I was. She moved to San Antonio in late July, but whatever lovey-dovey thoughts and hopes I had about her are gone. Hell, even thinking about her gives me a big rubbery one. Reading past entries in this blog make me almost sick when I find that I wrote mushy shit like "sparkling eyes" and "cute butt" about her. I sigh disappointingly at myself when I realize just how many hours I spent writing about her and how much I loved her. And try as I may, I know that my experience with Erin has made me distrust women even more slightly; I worry that I may one day become fully jaded and just decide to drop my continued search for a girlfriend.

I'll keep trying, but this is a serious blow to my price and confidence; one that I may never recover from. My hair continues to recede and I'm not getting any younger, that's for sure.

Phew...

As of 2:52pm today, I finished transferring all of the entries from my old blog spot to here, and believe me, that was a lot of work. I slowly figured out how to use Blogger, learned a bit of HTML, and screwed with the template a bit so the blog looks better now. As far as the posts are concerned, I made a few alterations here and there in order to patch up people's names and dead links, but I didn't edit any of the grammar or inconsistencies in linking. Hell, I kept a lot of the stuff even though some of it no longer applies, but I'll touch on those subjects sooner rather than later.

I left a forwarding entry in my old blog. I'm not sure why; it isn't like people from the Improv board are going to be desperately searching for this blog.

I'm going to take a break from this for a few hours, catch a nap or a few episodes of anime, and then get back to work on it. At least my schoolwork is suffering!

New Blog, Same College Guy

I have known numerous people who have blogs on Blogger, but I never decided to switch to it until now. I don't have any strong reasons for this change. I liked the Improv Resource Center and its message board quite a bit, but I sort of felt like I was taking advantage of (not in a good way) the opportunity to post on their board in my own little corner. Honestly, I really do appreciate them letting me do that, and they gave me many opportunities to talk about the demons and emotional baggage that I shoulder everyday. However, I thought that I should move my diary/thought dump onto a place that allowed me to have more than a 10,000 character limit on entries, and besides, I felt like taking advantage of Google's kindness for a change (despite the fact that I already use it many times a day).

Hence, New Chronicles of a College Guy was born.

I'll be transferring content from my old blog to here as soon as I can. Yes, this includes entries that I would much rather bury, but I'll put them up despite how painful it is for me to read some of them (and no, I'm not talking about the altering writing style). After I put up all 32 old entries in order of oldest to newest, I'll move onto the new stuff. And if I'm lucky, I might pick up some HTML skills and alter the template for this page; it does look rather bland as it is.