New Chronicles of a College Guy

Death of a Character

2005-12-08T12:56:00.000-05:00

Yeah yeah... it's been more than a year since I updated my blog. This is the second or third time I've neglected it; that's just how I do things, I guess. I'll tell my story in the next entry or whenever I get to it.

And yes, this isn't one of my typical entries. So what brought up this topic? Well, I watched the Tenjo Tenge anime in two days then spent the next two days reading the first 88 chapters of the manga. I found a particular death to be... touching. Then I got to thinking about the death, how it related to me as a writer, and what lessons I could draw from it. Maybe I thought a bit too much about it...

I've been a big fan of Tenjou Tenge a long time before I even knew that there was going to be an anime. Corpse pointed it out the manga to me in June 2003 and I was quick to devour any chapters that I could find. Sure, he was quick to talk about how there was nudity and sex, and he snagged me with that part. But finding stuff with sex and nudity is a dime a dozen these days; put in "cherry tree" on Google and you'll eventually find a porn link if you look down far enough in the results. What kept me reeled in was the action, characters, and storyline. I'd try summarizing the manga, but I'd only spend the next thousand words describing the numerous character relationships and then getting through maybe a few lines of the actual story before I got tired. It's no Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but it's still pretty damn intricate.

However, allow me to shift tracks for a bit.

Back in my junior year of college, I took a fiction writing class. I may not have finished with an A, but that was one of my favorite classes in college. It was rather simple: you write. Okay, there may have been occasional restrictions like page limits, incorporation of themes, and instructions on how to start out, but we were pretty much given free reign on every assignment. Give a writer a blank piece of paper and what more can they ask for? Other than a pen or pencil? Not much. And you got graded for your stories, but that part was never really on my mind.

Anyways, my professor was a hardcore drama guy; I could summarize his thoughts on fiction with this statement from my Kimi ga Nozomu Eien review: "more drama happens at the dinner table than physical violence can create". Oh, I definitely do agree with him, but I always found that he seemed to limit himself in that respect. He gave us a rather simple equation when it came to storytelling: drama = desire + danger. In mundane situations, there's arguably more desire than danger, and this is what he liked; to him, it was more interesting to read about a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship breaking down with their words than one resorting to physical violence. However, in the latter, there's arguably more danger than desire, thus there's still drama.

Another point my professor once made (and more aimed at this entry's topic) was how killing a character is generally little more than a plea for pity. I believe he said this because, despite it being a fiction class, he wanted us to focus on realistic situations (my theory was proved when, on the last day of class, he stated that he was glad no one wrote any science fiction stories during the semester) that were believable; and death isn't commonplace in real life.

But in cases that involve death, the character needs to reach out and connect with the audience. There's only so far that the character can go before they have nothing else to be revealed, at which point, the only thing left is for the reader to begin caring about them. How the character in question dies isn't of so much concern; whether they die of old age or in a fire generally won't allow the reader to not want them to die. Once they reach the point of death, the reader has either cared about them or not.

This is the essence of successfully killing a character: whether or not the reader cares. And this intrigues me.

Think of it like this: it's easy to just kill off character A. Who cares? Who is character A? If you have no idea, then why should anyone else care? Even if you give character A a name, any fool can do the same thing with an easy "Al died". Once again, who is Al? Successfully killing a character requires more than just a character; it requires time and gradually evolving them into a human being. Humans have personalities, pasts, quirks, likes, dislikes, beliefs, etc. So rather than "Al died", Al needs to have a life to begin with; in order for the reader to care, Al needs to be more than just a name.

Bringing Tenjo Tenge back into focus, one of the main characters is named Natsume Maya (she's at the top of the linked page; family name first, given name last). I was reading up on the latest chapters when I found that Maya had died in chapter 87. And it saddened me. I read the chapter and then spent the next 4 1/2 hours at work thinking about her death. Maya may be "just" a character, but to me, she had evolved to a point where I became concerned about her well-being. She had strong bonds and convictions which, to me, allowed her to transcend paper and become alive in her own respect.

Some history: Maya is a martial arts expert, the captain of the Jyuukenbu club at Toudou Academy, and the eldest surviving member of the Natsume family (she's only 17; her younger sister, Aya, is 15). 2 years prior in the story, Maya's older brother, Shin, was killed by one of his closest friends; however, Shin was driven crazy by his family's power, the Dragon Eye, which allowed him to see into the past and future. Maya doesn't possess the same ability, but Aya does. To keep this reasonably short, Maya was fighting Kagiroi Tetsuhito when she called upon her brother's sword, "Ceremonial Sword" Reiki, to give her the edge to win the fight; she promised it her life. Aya used her power to activate Reiki and help Maya win the fight, but Maya had already been beaten up pretty badly even before the fight began. Reiki subsequently consumed her life and Maya's heart exploded.

And yes, I'm quite aware that what I just said probably blew by most people. Like I said before, it would require far more explanation than what I want to put down.

Part of Natsume Maya's death scene. The frames are meant to be seen from right to left; the Japanese is written from right to left, top to bottom. A rough translation of what is written: "I... see... so relentless... in the end... the scabbard is just a scabbard".
Okay, I definitely skimped out on Maya's background. C'est la vie; there's so much more I would have to say just to get across the understanding that Maya is a pivotal character in the story and that I believe that her death was well done.

Focusing on the picture for a moment, Maya's heart had begun exploding a few frames before the one on the right, but the three that I chose were the most graphic. If you look at the left frame, Maya can be seen still holding onto the hilt of her brother's sword, Reiki. If you look at the right frame, you can see her left eye swollen shut from her fight with Kagiroi Tetsuhito and (I've got to at least point it out lest someone thinks that things don't look quite right) her sizeable breasts. The kanji and katakana in the middle and left frames (translation is above in caption) refers to 3 things: 1) Reiki activated by unsheathing itself and showing its true blade, 2) Maya had said previously that she was merely a scabbard for Reiki, holding onto it until it was needed because she couldn't use its power and didn't want Aya to get it for fear of her going crazy, 3) a scabbard isn't incredibly vital for a sword because it's just something to hold onto it, hence Reiki did not hesitate to consume her body and power after her victory.

Coming back to Maya's death, I believe it was done pretty well. In my eyes, Maya had developed to the point where I cared about her well-being. She had seen so much death, felt so much pain, and still had so much life left in her. And just a few pages before the picture above, she had begun speaking about how she felt that she'd "degraded" to the likes of her older brother, a psychotic murderer, because she had just taken someone else's life. In seeing all of this (the random reader may not agree, but I'd argue that it's due more to ignorance), I do agree that Maya's death was well done by the manga-ka, Oh! Great, and I'm not sure how it could've been done any better.

At a point like this, there's really only one way to regress a character (and possibly the story): deus ex machina. By using such a storytelling method, the character is usually eroded in some way to the reader; there's always a certain leap of faith that everyone has to take when they read fiction, and this would be shattered by the use of such a device. For instance, if Maya were to be resurrected, you've completely removed all meaning and impact of her death as well as making the story jump an absurdly high obstacle that it really shouldn't. Now, I'm not saying that deus ex machina is bad; in some stories, settings, and series, it's a perfectly normal and acceptable method that's used so things can be bent more towards what the author wants. But in a story like Tenjou Tenge? It doesn't work no matter how hard even I want the character to live.

And just so I make things more clear, an example of unsuccessfully killing a character would be Wolf's Rain OVA. Why? Because (spoiler!) everyone dies. Yes, everyone. But this needs a bit more of an explanation. When the main characters are all yawn-inducing stereotypes that never grow, there is no attachment that the audience can make to them. Without any such connections, even one death is trivial and nothing more than a cheesy "Oh... so what if they died?" And when every other character after the first is killed? I'm not sure it can get any more anti-climatic than that nor could there be any bigger sign from the writers which says, "I have no imagination and can't think of anything better".

So now, why did I say all of that? Well, because I'm a writer, but I'm not a great writer. Great writers can successfully kill characters with the methods I described already, and I still need to get to that point in my development. Maybe I can accomplish that sooner rather than later. Only time will tell.

And here some people thought my blog was a bunch of angsty bullshit and pictures. :P

"You are now property of Anime Academy"

2004-10-28T12:04:00.000-04:00

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 whys and hows, 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

2004-10-22T15:03:00.000-04:00

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

2004-10-20T05:00:00.000-04:00

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

2004-10-12T22:11:00.000-04:00

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

2004-10-08T03:40:00.000-04:00

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

2004-10-06T02:12:00.000-04:00

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...

2004-10-05T15:13:00.000-04:00

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

2004-10-04T19:03:00.000-04:00

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.

Incriminating Evidence

2004-02-04T12:45:00.000-05:00

And more pictures!

Quick explanation: on January 23rd, there was a party at our place, and this is a usual occurrence every Friday. However, what made this party different was that Becky (Dave's current girlfriend) drove to Pitt and there was actually a respectable ratio of males to females (Translation: it was not a sausage party). Sure, we could probably get in trouble for some of these pictures, but that is not about to stop me from posting them even if they would be incriminating evidence showing that there was a lot of underage drinking at our place.

Let me backtrack a bit since this picture was on the roll and was taken on the previous Thursday night (January 15th). On Thursday morning, Dave and I were sitting down at the coffee table, eating Cookie Crisp, and watching some television. Dave turned off the television and we both heard a loud crack that sounded like a light bulb burning out. In short, the television broke. Apparently, Dave had had it since he was five years old, and while I think it may have had some sentimental value to him, that did not stop him from getting drunk with two friends and dropping a chunk of concrete into it (That is the white blob where the screen is supposed to be). I was doing some reading for my Foreign Policy class and I heard this loud boom. My first thoughts was that it was a gunshot, but seeing Dave run around like an idiot only disproved that theory. It was worth a good laugh at the time, but I doubt that anything like that will happen in the future.

Pictured (Foreground, Left to Right): Becky, David Farrell, Katie, and Robert Coppenhaver
(Background, Left to Right): Steven Whetstone, Stephanie, Andrea Kapko, and Andrew McNally
First, forgive me for not including the full names of some people. To be honest, I know far more people at Pitt on a first name-only basis, which I translate to something like "We are not close/good enough of friends to actually know each other's full name." I mean, I know quite a few people who only know Steve by his nickname (Stones) and are confused as hell when I call Steve by his first name.

Anyways, this picture is a snap shot. Chug some beers and you know what I mean; you just do a lot of random stuff, and this just so happens to be one of them. Dave was in the middle of passing his camera off to Katie so she could get a picture of Becky and him, and my poor positioning screwed up getting Steve and Stephanie into the picture properly. Oh well.

Pictured (Left to Right): Becky and David Farrell
And here is the resulting shot. I noticed that my right pointer finger tended to get in the way of a lot of shots on the right side, and this one is no exception.

Becky is a high school student, and that statement alone explains quite a bit of her disposition. She is a nice girl, and although I am not attracted to her at all, I can see why Dave thinks that she is cute. However, she also radiates a sense of "blondness" and immaturity; her smoking habit is only a fraction of this aura. When I tried talking politics with her and Dave the night after this, she seemed blown away by how I put things into a perspective where there is no clear right and wrong in human actions; barely minutes beforehand, she was intent to blab on and on about how anyone conservative is better off dead (An attitude that is very similar to my mother's).

And before I forget, it should be known that Becky screams like someone is tearing off her skin with a chainsaw when she has sex with Dave. Koop had hurt his ACL and puked later on, and while I was watching him, I heard Becky's screaming. At first, it was actually hilarious; sort of like listening to a bad porn video. However, as my buzz began to wear off, her screaming began grating on my nerves.

Like I said, a good girl, but an immature girl.

Pictured (Foreground, Left to Right): Robert Coppenhaver, David Farrell, and Steven Whetstone
(Background, Left to Right): John Day, Becky, and Katie
This is one of two group shots I got that night, and this one came out fairly well, in my opinion. This was taken right before we went outside, and Steve is holding a Hersheypark glow mug I had given him a few weekends prior. He usually fills it with beer and sports it at parties.

And yes, that is Becky in between Koop and Dave's neck. A physical example of her immaturity, if you will.

Pictured (Foreground, Left to Right): David Farrell and Becky
(Background, Left to Right): Stephanie and Andrew McNally
Let me say this: drunk kids cannot feel a whole lot, and even though it was well below freezing, we had the time of our lives.

This was one of the better pictures taken outside when we were playing in the snow. Here, Dave got knocked over by Becky and she threw a lot of snow in his face. One of the parts that sucked about this "snow brawl" was that there was ice underneath the snow from the melting of multiple other snowfalls. Suffice to say, getting knocked over hurt a bit, but it was fun nevertheless.

And even though Andy was drunk, he really did not get into it. Course, Stephanie did not either, but I would not go so far as to say that she was drunk.

Pictured (Left to Right): Robert Coppenhaver and Katie
Here, Koop was busy with Katie and the snow. I forget who went down first, but Koop got Katie good in the end.

In the second picture, Koop's arm is around Katie's neck, and not in any hostile manner at all. Both were very close for the majority of the night, but I doubt that Koop would actively make an effort to go for Katie. Do not get me wrong; Katie is a great girl. Cute, incredibly energetic, very friendly, and always puts forth her best effort in whatever she does, but she is a dick tease (At least when it comes to Koop). However, I do not think that it comes from any desire to see Koop angry, but rather, out of fear. Steve took the time to explain to me a few things that rationalizes her fear. Basically, her first boyfriend was in her freshman and sophomore year of college, and she lost her virginity to him (And women always feel very strongly for the person that they had sex with first). However, he turned into an asshole and began treating Katie like utter shit, and she stuck with him for too long. Now, I see her obvious attraction to Koop and vice versa, but I also understand that hesitation to want to get into a committed relationship with him; she is afraid of being hurt again by the one that she loves, and I have doubts that either one of them are going to get serious because of what occurred in the past.

I do believe that Koop and Katie should be together, at least to give it a shot. I would think about going after her, but I already have Erin to chase after.

Pictured (Back Row, Left to Right): Steven Whetstone, Andrew McNally, Katie, Robert Coppenhaver, John Day, David Farrell, and Becky
(Front Row, Left to Right): Stephanie and Andrea Kapko
Although this picture is edited in order to cut out the flash from my right pointer finger, this is the second group picture and undoubtedly the best. I am not lying in the least when I say that I absolutely love this picture and the way that it came out. While it was taken when we were done playing in the snow, you can still see the joy, thrill, and nostalgia of playing in the snow on everyone's face. A great moment forever caught in time on an excellent photo.

Two side stories: I have known Andrea for about four months at this point, and although she is good friends with Katie, she does not share that same energy. She is a very cute girl, but she is more reserved and mature most of the time. I know far less about her, but she does not come off with an air of mystery that I would expect; rather, she knows what is needed and does it. A practical woman, and that is not bad at all.

Stephanie is another side story. She attends Duquesne University and is a sports medicine major. However, when she came to the party, she did not have the same kind of wild energy that make Katie and Andrea so fun to be with. She came, drank a little bit, diagnosed Koop's ACL injury, and left as though she had only come in order to kill time. In some ways, she is more of a mystery than Andrea is to me, but at the same time, there is no desire to uncover the mystery and see what else lies there. You could even go so far as to say that she is a drag.

Pictured: Andrea Kapko
Even though her eyes are shut, you can still tell that Andrea had a blast. I just had to include this picture as well because of the cool pose.

But hey, it is all just incriminating evidence showing off our drunk time. Hopefully the cops will never find this.

Moments Frozen In Time

2004-01-23T12:46:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, Allison drove to Pitt to visit, Dave went home to see his girlfriend, and I ditched schoolwork in order to catch up with some anime. It was fun watching and reviewing again, but now I need to get caught up with my schoolwork again or else I will get buried underneath all of it.

Anyways, these are some photos that Steve took the night before we were going back to Pitt. Steve came over about 20 minutes before Allison and Erin did, and he was in my room screwing around when he saw a picture of Erin and myself. I related to him the duality of how I look at the picture, he looked around my room, found my Advantix camera with film (Four leftover rolls from Otakon 2003), and decided to take some pictures of Erin for me. I was all for the idea, but I was hesitant to personally take the pictures; the hesitation was spawned from a paranoia about how Erin might get some less-than-pleasant ideas about the purpose of the photos. Call me a pussy if you wish, but I prefer to tread lightly. Also, some of the pictures have been edited to get rid of dead space. Anyways...

Pictured (Left to Right): Erin Schmucker and Allison Geiger
Without a doubt, this is Erin's best deer-staring-into-headlights pose. Steve walked into the living room, shouted out something real quick to get our attention, and then snapped the photo. However, Allison saw Steve walking up with the camera, quickly covered her face with a pillow, and then just as quickly started spouting out some "nonsense" about how people should not unexpectedly take pictures of women because it was rude (Because of Allison's tone, I could not tell if she was being sarcastic or really serious). Erin never voiced any opinion like that; all she did was smile.

Before I continue, I just want to note that my parents have a Native American fetish or something of the sort. I really do not know why, but they just do. Hence, you will notice that pieces of furniture (The couch screams Navajo to me, but someone who is more knowledgeable about the style and subject would know precisely) are not exactly "normal" American household style furniture.

Pictured (Left to Right): Erin Schmucker and Allison Geiger
This is the picture that Allison wanted Steve to take. The only difference is that both of them were prepared to have their picture taken even though they do not look physically different other than the addition of smiles. One thing I do not like about this picture is that the quality is horrible, although that has more to do with my desire to balance picture quality with size, but something else I do not like is... well, I will discuss the "dislike" with the next picture to illustrate a comparison.

If you look at Allison's hoody (A few days ago, I figured out that hoody is not spelled "hoodie," so I feel a bit like an idiot because that is how I have been spelling it for a while), it says on the front La Salle, which is the college that she attends. I have a strong feeling that, if she had never received a field hockey scholarship to La Salle, she would have attended Pitt in order to stay close to Steve. I have yet to see La Salle, but I will when Steve and I take our road trip during Pitt's Spring Break. And allow me to be that little bastard for a moment while I say this: Allison is a big girl. Not fat, although she does pack some cellulite over her hamstrings; I mean to say that she is naturally stocky, and she would still have huge hips and shoulders were she to lose 80 pounds. Suffice to say, she makes a good field hockey player (At least, I think that a physically-rigorous sport like that requires that build). But I digress.

Pictured (Left to Right): Erin Schmucker and Eric Joseph (Me)
Call me a whiny bitch if you would like, but this is another photo where I see a duality. On one hand, I love the fact that I have a good picture of Erin and I even if Steve had the camera aimed a bit too high. The lighting was well placed in order to bring out our best sides, we are both smiling, and it shows off Erin's cute face. What is there not to like?

On the other hand, there is a gap between Erin and myself. Compare the gap to the picture with Erin and Allison posing and you will notice a stark difference. I correlate that physical gap between people as also being a mental gap; the closeness that both individuals can be to one another without feeling like they are too close or too far from one another. In short, the Hedgehog's Dilemma. I see this as physical evidence of the theory at hand, or it could just be purely a fluke that we were that far/close together (However you want to look at it), but I see it as the former. Allison and Erin have been friends for a long time (Two years longer than Erin and I have been, I believe), and they feel far more comfortable being closer together. Yet, when it comes to the picture with Erin and myself, I have to wonder about who did not want to get closer to the other: Erin, me, or both of us. However, I also see it from another perspective: I have come so far to get that close to Erin, and I merely need to bridge that physical and mental gap between ourselves in order to get closer to who she is.

Perhaps she will get more comfortable with who I am when I reveal more of who I am so that we both can get closer to one another instead of it being one-sided.

Pictured: Steve Whetstone
Sometime during our lengthy group chat, Allison snapped a picture of Steve reading/flipping through some of my mother's magazines. Forgiving the bad quality of the picture, you can see a fair amount of my living room and just how much Native American/Southwest stuff there is hanging around and whatnot. I really have to speak to Allison and Steve about how to properly aim a camera...

Now that I think about it, I believe this was about the time that Erin got up and proceeded to "raid" my refrigerator. I smirk when I think about that, and even though she did not ask permission, she went right ahead and grabbed a bag of venison. Perhaps that is a show of Erin's carelessness or just that she feels more comfortable in my house, but either way, I had no problem with it at all.

Pictured (Left to Right): Erin Schmucker and Eric Joseph (Me)
Yet another picture that was taken on a moment's notice. Steve got up, and I guess we were both expecting him to take a picture; I mean, it is obvious when he has it in his hand and brings it above his waist. Otherwise, nothing really special about this picture other than it is showing us chilling on my couch.

Small side story: I forget where I got it from, but my shirt says "Three Wise Men", followed by three drunken frogs dressed in different clothing, each frog having their own shot glass, and their respective names below them: Jim, Jack, and Jose. Basically, it is indirectly advertising for Jim Beam Bourbon, Jack Daniel Whiskey, and Jose Cuervo Tequila, and now that I give it some thought, that was perhaps not the best attire to wear around Erin. Oh well; I cannot change the past.

Pictured (Left to Right): Erin Schmucker and Eric Joseph (Me)
Every time I see this picture, I giggle and a smile blooms on my face, and it is not because of the additional Native American stuff and Christmas lights strung on the wall.

Steve and Allison suggested that Erin and I do something "whacky" to pose for a picture. We sat around for a minute thinking of something to do, and I just sort of scratched my head. In the end, I decided to do a handstand on the couch. My first attempt at it ended rather quickly; basically, my hands slipped because I did not have a good "footing" and my head almost slid right into the coffee table in front of the couch. Everyone was quick to screech in distress and they even wanted to not go ahead with my idea, but I just went back to trying to do a handstand and they stopped worrying. After I got it, Steve's idea was to have Erin stand behind me and hold my legs up while she smiled at the camera from between my legs.

As the picture shows, that is not what happened, but oh well. Erin put on her I-cannot-believe-I-am-doing-this face (Actually, I have to wonder where her left hand got off to because she clearly had it up behind my pants), I could not stop laughing at all, and Steve took the picture.

Afterwards, I remember Allison saying something to the effect of "That was closest she has ever gotten to a sexual act." I wondered what the hell she meant by that simply because I did not consider the pose to be sexual in nature. I speculate that she meant something about how it was the most sexual of an act that Erin has ever done, but I have to disagree. Now, had Erin held me up and looked at the camera from between my legs, I would be far more inclined to say that that would have been sort of sexual in nature, but that did not happen.

Either way, these are precious moments forever frozen in time where I am smiling and not just showing teeth. I cannot wait for Erin to see them.

A Week In Review

2004-01-18T01:19:00.000-05:00

Good news: I finally moved out of McCormick Hall! J.D. moved out over Winter break, and although a new kid moved in, we found him another place at Bouquet Gardens that was open. So now, I have J.D.'s old room and my living arrangements are far better than they were before.

Steve made it seem like the best part about the place is that we all have our own separate rooms, but I have to disagree. Although it is nice to be able to have some privacy and be able to sleep without having your roommate walk in only to crank the volume on his television up all the way, I consider roommates to be a much more important aspect. Seeing as how I had grown a particular hate for Bill, I also grew to realize just how important it is to have roommates that you actually like. And seeing how Koop, Dave, and Steve are good friends of mine, it is a good combination. At the same time, I am put into a situation I have never had to face before: the fact that I care about my roommates. Sure, I was friends with my roommate and floormates during my freshman and sophomore year, but I never truly cared about them and their situations. As cold-hearted as this may sound, it was all just meaningless banter to me; they would have fights or whatnot, and I could have cared less about their past, present, and future. The difference is that I care about my current roommates. Hence, I cannot say certain things that I could freely say before (i.e. poke fun at them because of their past girlfriends in front of their current girlfriend/fiancée).

To boot: Bill never knew I had moved out until he came back Sunday night.
A direct result of my moving is that I actually have the opportunity to regularly work out without interrupting a roommate's sleep. However, I started running every morning when I was still rooming with Bill, so he had to put up with my alarm clock going off every morning at 6 AM and the subsequent noise I made as I stretched and put on clothes.

I hope I woke him up everyday at 6 AM that entire week.

Waking up and running in sub-zero weather is stronger than coffee; that much I am positive of. For the first few days, I was coughing up a storm and my legs were sore as hell, but I adapted to my new routine and things were okay. A week after beginning, I did get sick, and adding sit-ups and pushups to my work out also meant that my abdominal and arm muscles got their chance at being very sore. But, I got over them. Granted, I do have the occasional aches and pains, but nothing that some stretching cannot fix. Also, last Tuesday (January 13th), I added a Personal Fitness class on to my schedule, which means that I will be even more active.

I wonder where I can find the time for anime this semester.
It seems like I cannot go an entire entry without some mention of Erin.

On Friday night (January 16th), Allison drove to Pitt, and while I have a feeling that I will be seeing a lot more of her this semester because I moved into the same suite as Steve, that is not a bad thing. Allison is a good girl; virtual friend or party chick or whatever label you wish to slap on her. Cutting to the chase, Allison asked me what was up with my AIM profile and a specific away message that I used.
From my AIM profile
I wept and found love, but love did not find me. Yet, that has given me a new goal in this aimless life. For now, I shall smile and gaze into those sparkling eyes.
The away message in question
Happily dreaming of sugar plums, fairies, and... Allison knows the last part.
The last part of the away message is "Erin." It is something that I told Steve and Allison on New Years Eve when we were driving to Steve's house. I forget what prompted me to say it (Probably the three beers I had drunk before hopping into the back seat of the car), but I said it quite clearly: "Tonight, I shall happily dream of sugar plums, fairies, and Erin." That warranted an "Aww" from Allison, but I was not striving for sympathy or pity or anything of the sort; I merely said what I felt.

Anyways, Allison said that Erin had been asking her about it. At first, I felt... something, and that something was not good. It was neither jealousy, anger, or hate, but just a general "Not again..." feeling. It spawned mainly from the fact that this seemed to be yet another example of how Erin does not want to directly ask me about an issue and instead goes behind my back to find an answer that I would not hesitate to respond to her about. However, I quickly realized that I do the same thing many times; I ask people for certain information about Erin, trying to get to know her better than I do already. After I got over that small quirk, I forget what I asked Allison, but she said something similar to what Steve had said barely a month ago: "Perhaps she just wants to be friends."

Yet, as much as it hurt to hear and think about Allison's words, I know that I have to trudge onward through all of the shit and muck that may cloud my vision. And I will only rest when I have heard Erin's response to what I told her last summer. It is either a success I must enjoy to the fullest or a failure I cannot bear knowing of. While it would break my heart to hear her tell me something that could be summed up with a simple "No", it would break my heart even more to see her be forced against her will to get into a relationship with me.

If she is truly kind, she will be honest.
Something else that I have noticed about moving into a better dorm that is inhabited by real friends is that my time is guzzled up. I wake up at 6 AM to work out, and by the time I finish, it is at least 8 AM. I will usually get breakfast, then usually watch television, read assigned material, or go back to sleep for another hour or two before I need to get up for any classes. Depending upon the day, I usually have class starting at 9:30 AM or 10 AM, and with exception to Tuesdays, class ends at 3 PM, but after class is done, I need to take a nap. I wake up between 5 PM and 6 PM, and after dinner (Most days, I only have two meals: breakfast and dinner), it seems like there is always something going on with Koop, Steve, or Dave, and that sucks up a good portion of my time. If nothing important is going on, I try to catch up with my assigned readings (And there is quite a lot of that), but I try to make it to bed by midnight.

At least they cannot take away my weekends; I can at least do something productive then. And while I am on the subject, here is my schedule for this semester:
Class - Day - Start Time - End Time:
Introduction to Fiction Writing - T - 6:00 PM - 8:30 PM
History of Japanese Women - T H - 11:00 AM - 12:15 PM
Personal Fitness - T H - 9:30 AM - 10:25 AM
Introduction to Logic - T H - 2:00 PM - 2:50 PM
Introduction to Logic Recitation - M - 11:00 AM - 11:50 AM
Comparative Political Party Systems - M W F - 2:00 PM - 2:50 PM
American Foreign Policy - M W F - 10:00 AM - 10:50 AM
I openly admit that I drink alcohol despite the fact that I am only 20 years old, but I feel no shame in drinking or any great desire to. I can remember back during high school when alcohol still had that whole magical allure to it, and even the first time I tried some, I never really liked it. To this day, I can say that I have no great love for alcohol, but I drink it at times to use it as a social lubricant, yet I know when I have had enough. Consequently, I have yet to do anything that I regret, I have not been arrested, nor have I ever puked. At the same time, if I was serious about a woman and she asked me to never drink again, I would have no problem giving it up; even now, there are times when I do not feel like drinking, and I imagine that I would probably be a better person if I never drank alcohol again in my life.

It may sound stupid, but even though I prefer to drink beer, I still cannot chug a bottle or can of beer. I even have problems downing a shot glass full of... whatever, be it Captain Morgan or Grey Goose. It is not something I am proud of, but I am not ashamed of it either. I prefer to drink alcoholic beverages for the taste rather than to get drunk, and it could be said that I have strange tastes. I cannot stand drinking anything fruity or sugary like Bacardi Silver because a good alcoholic drink to me is a good tasting beer.

And still, I drink to be someone I am not; that friendly guy who always has a smile glued to his face and is eager to talk about anything with practically anyone. As sick as it may sound, it could be argued that I also drink to forget about some things in my life. Perhaps I use it to forget about how I hate being a third/fifth/seventh wheel all the time, to forget about an outcome of my Erin situation that I do not want to imagine, to forget about my aimless life, or to forget about a loneliness that clings to the back of my heels no matter how hard I try to outrun it.

Dedication Means One

2004-01-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

My parents bought me two anime books for Christmas: Anime: From Akira to Princess Mononoke and Anime Interviews: The First Five Years of Animerica, Anime & Manga Monthly. Long story short, they are returning that trash and getting me Berserk Volume 1. Now that that is out of the way...

From Ali Davis' True Porn Clerk Stories – Instant Karma
One of my beefs with traditional Christianity is that most sects treat sex as a dirty or sinful thing. I like the fact that say, Taoism, treats sex as not only good but sacred.

Side note: Before I get to talking about what I want, I recommend that anyone should read True Porn Clerk Stories. I was first introduced to it when my brother said that it was hilarious, yet I found it to be both an unintended commentary about human sexuality and a well-written journal that explores nine months of a young woman’s life. Very fascinating stuff and well worth anyone’s time.

Although I have said it before, I will say it again: I am a virgin. Big deal.

During the other night, Steve, Allison, and Erin came over to my place to all say goodbyes (Rather, that was the reason that Steve gave, but we ended up talking for almost two hours), and I felt at home sitting next to Erin. Hell, I wanted to wrap my arms around her, hold her for a while, smell her pretty hair, and chat it up with everyone, but I refrained from doing so. Instead, Steve got a few pictures of us, and I was happier than a crack addict who got a fix just by sitting with her. Within ten minutes after they left, Lance, Matt Jakab, and Brian Gravino (I am not sure if I have ever discussed anything about these two guys, but they graduated in my class at Hershey) unexpectedly walked into the house and I stood around, watched Lance play Halo and helped bake french fries and a pizza. I was sitting on one of the chairs in our living room and talking to Lance when Brian suddenly interrupted me and we started talking about this girl that he was chasing for a few weeks. I forget the specifics, but Brian had grown discouraged and had stopped calling her as soon as he realized that this woman would not be able to get over the physical abuse that her previous boyfriend had given her. Instead, Brian had been clubbing lately and just wanted to get sex for the time being. I laughed at Brian's statement, and he said something along the lines of "Well Eric, you know how it is with women. I know that even you need sex to get by."

Suddenly, my laugh turned into a mild snort, and I simply responded with, "Dude, I've never had sex before in my life."

Brian first thought that I was joking, but when I repeated myself, he acted like this was horribly wrong; like I had committed some heinous crime. He gave me a horrified look when I chuckled and was quick to ask, "You're telling me that a charming guy like yourself has never fucked a woman before? Are you a fag?" This was when I got semi-serious and proceeded to lay things down for him. "What's so bad about waiting to fall in love with a woman before having sex? Does the fact that I've never jumped a woman's bones mean that I'm automatically homosexual?" Brian quickly gave in along that line of reasoning, but I was more than ready to say a lot more.

So let's attack the issue directly: what are my beliefs on sex?

Virginity is overrated - Movies, television, and teenagers with too many hormones running through their blood act like losing your virginity is a big deal; if you have it, there is an implied notion that you are not that you are still incomplete as a person. However, in modern American society, this applies mostly for males. Guys are patted on the back for screwing this chick or that girl. Rarely will you ever find a female being congratulated for having sex, but that is another topic for another time. Basically, the act of losing your virginity seems grossly overrated to me.
Sex is good, but it should be sacred - I relate having sex too often to eating your favorite candy all the time; as time wears on, you gradually lose an appreciation for it until you can never have it again. Now, the "sex is good" part is merely my speculation. Since I have yet to actually have sex, I do not know that it is good, but I am merely led to believe that it is good. Yet, I still believe that everything should be done in moderation, and sex is no exception.
Complete abstinence before marriage is going too far - I realize that a lot of Christian fundamentalists out there believe that having sex before you are married is a sin, a blight upon humanity, or some other such nonsense, but that is taking things a bit too far. My stance is that someone should get into a meaningful relationship with another person before engaging in sex with that other person. Is having a bit of substance there going to make things worse? I would imagine not. I mean, you are enjoying doing something with someone that you love, and if they are enjoying it as well, what is so bad about that? On the flip of the coin, what if you have sex with some random person? In all likelihood, you are probably never going to meet that person ever again, and the one-night stand is merely used as a physical release and nothing more. If someone needs a physical release, I have a better, cleaner, and easier idea: masturbation. Is there anything wrong with getting off by yourself? Unless someone walks in on you, nothing at all.

Now that I have made it clear where I stand on the issue, perhaps it would be better that I explained what I mean by "sex." Many people go by different definitions of the word; for some, it means actual penetration; for others, it can mean merely kissing and groping. My definition of sex would be something along the lines of "performing acts with the intention to cause orgasm to yourself or another person." Basically, oral sex is still sex because the intended result is to get the other person off. How do I justify this? Because I look at sex as having two purposes: pleasure and procreation. If it does not fit into one, it fits into the other. And the last time I checked, forced sex is rape, which I consider to fall into an entirely separate category; it can be used as a means to degrade the victim or simply for the criminal's pleasure and the victim's discontent.

True story: when I was a little munchkin, I thought that people made babies merely by kissing. I never believed in any of that "the stork brings the baby" stuff, and I never received "the birds, the bees, and the babies" talk from my folks; whenever I watched television, I would see a guy and a gal smooching like there was no tomorrow, and I just got to thinking that was how babies were made. I forget when it was, but sometime in elementary or middle school, I learned how babies were really created. The introduction of sexual humor followed not far behind that, and the breeding of another generation of males who cannot stand pubic hair began.

At the same time, I realize that I do not have a more "normal" perspective of sex simply because I have never experienced it. I imagine that many people believe that to be bad to a certain degree, but I think it is a good thing. Despite all of the times throughout college that I have been in the position to have sex with a woman, I have simply said "No thank you" and walked away. Most guys give me a sideways glance, like they are asking me "Are you even heterosexual?", whenever I mention that. If sex is considered to be so damn important, why can people not show an ounce of dedication to the one that they love by not having sex until they find him or her? I am not saying that you have to be in a position or have a desire to want to marry the other person, but rather, that there is some substance there rather than nothing at all.

At least, that is what I believe.

It seems like the vast majority of American society believes that we are better people if males have bigger muscles and a large penis and if women have larger breasts and curvier hips, or that could just be a 20 year old college guy's perception based upon mass media. Males are thought to be better people if they have more sex, while women are thought to be better if they never have sex or very rarely have sex, yet even then, they are at risk of being labeled "slut" or "skank" simply because they like to have sex. I look at this and I see a double standard, which is difficult to deny. Guys are cooler if they have sex with random women, but women are shunned or scowled at if they are promiscuous; both sexes are participating in the same act, yet they are looked upon in an opposite manner. To make a political science analogy, it is like nuclear weapons; if the United States possesses them, then the "free world" is safe from danger, but if another "rogue" nation possesses them, then everyone is at risk of being bombed at any moment.

I guess you could say that I raise sex up on a pedestal, but at the same time, I think that other people should too. Having indiscriminate sex causes you to be at risk for STDs (Which could lead to other moral problems), but most importantly of all (To me), it says that you were not willing to wait until you found your soulmate before indulging in such activities.

Thoughts and Ideas

2004-01-01T11:44:00.000-05:00

A while back in another entry, I remember talking about how I took Erin to her junior year Homecoming dance. Something I intentionally did not mention was that Allison had taken a picture of us dancing. Here is a scanned copy of that photo:

Pictured (Left to Right): Erin Schmucker and Eric Joseph (Me)
Allow me to give some background on this picture. I did not necessarily hate it, but I did not want to see it or know of its existence, so I guess you can say that I loathed it. If you notice, there is a white dot in the upper middle portion; that is not from any light source, but rather, Steve had been carrying it around for a while and he pinned it up somewhere along there. I can remember numerous times where I would come over to his house or dorm, he would hand the picture to me expecting me to be eager to take it, and I would put it back on his desk or a shelf when he was not looking.

The reason for this was not because I disliked Erin to any degree, but rather, because I disliked the picture. I felt that it was like (To use a clichéd term) having my cake but being unable to eat it. I wanted a picture of Erin's beautiful face, her precious smile, and her sparkling eyes, but I instead got a picture of me. And for a long time, I could not get over the fact that all I could see in the picture was the back of Erin and a smiling kid holding her who could not stop wondering if he should have shaved the day of the Homecoming (Yes, I am referring to myself).

Not that long ago, Steve made sure that I took the picture back; in fact, he came over to my pathetic excuse of a dorm and dropped off the picture just to see that I had it. And for a while after that, I did not want to look at it. However, one morning after my roommate's alarm clock woke me up half of an hour early, I sat at my desk and stared at the picture, looking over it in a daze. Yet, I felt no hate; I felt good and much better than I had been during the majority of the semester. It reminded me of a time when I had a boatload of fun with a woman whom I in love with and enjoy spending any amount of time with. I remembered how bad my dancing skills are and how my smile was stuck on my face for so long that my cheeks were hurting long after I dropped off Erin at her house. I remembered being embarrassed at the fact that my penis was erect while dancing some of the time with Erin, how I bumped it into her multiple times purely by accident (Seriously), and how she only smiled back and quietly ignored it. I remembered just how good it felt to have her in my arms like that for so long.

So really, I look at this picture from two perspectives now. On the plus side, the picture has a good shot of Erin's cute butt.
I have seen the movie Kill Bill Volume One twice now. I like how it accurately pays homage to Japanese samurai without making things become too silly. And hell, I like it just because I like Quentin Tarantino's filmmaking style; I like that brutally bluntness, those timely one-liners, and the thoughtful dialogues that characters have with one another. However, one thing I never particularly liked was Uma Thurman. She starred in and was on the front cover of the VHS for Pulp Fiction, and although her character was supposed to be sexy, I never found her to be sexy at all. Do not get me wrong; she is not ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but she did not look how I imagined Mia Wallace was supposed to look. When I saw her in Kill Bill Volume One, she seemed to fit her role much better because it did not ask her to be particularly sexy in any manner. However, during one scene, she walks into a small Japanese bar in order to talk to an ex-katana-maker and she smiled upon seeing the bartender. Now, I usually do not say anything at all while watching a movie, but when I saw her pearly white smile the first time I watched the movie, I blurted out "HOLY SHIT, SHE'S FUCKING GORGEOUS!" Seriously, she is a golden example (To me, at least) of how smiling makes women look better. I see dozen of supermodels on calendars just staring at or away from the camera as they pose, and none of them ever really look that good because they never smile. Hell, if Erin never smiled as much as she did, I probably would never have grown to love her as much as I do; her smile just made her that much more beautiful (No, I am not saying that I am only attracted to Erin because of her beauty; I am saying that her smile is what made her stand out and it caught my attention in a flash).

For all the lovely ladies out there, SMILE!
Call me old-fashioned if you want, but I do not understand why people need to say "nigga" instead of "nigger." Is "nigga" supposed to be any less derogatory than saying "nigger"? The same can be said for "biotch" and "bitch." Do everyone a big favor and at least learn to spell your vulgar language properly.

On a similar thought, the term "honkey" is supposed to be a derogatory word for "white people" just how "nigger" is supposed to be a derogatory word for "black people", just how "slant" or "chinky" is supposed to be a derogatory word for "Asian people", just how "redskin" is supposed to be a derogatory term for "Native Americans", et cetera. However, since I do not actively recognize "honkey" as being derogatory, does that still mean that it is a derogatory word if I take no offense to it at all? Bikutoru and I had this conversation a while ago, and although I forget what conclusion we both came to, I do remember that we agreed that a vulgar word could only be vulgar if both parties interacting recognized the word or the word's usage as being vulgar.

Go ahead and look up the meaning of "faggot" in the dictionary and see what you find. The definition does not paint the picture of a vulgar word.
There were quite a few entries in this blog that I wrote in rapid succession, or at least, what I consider to be rapid. Basically, six entries in three days is quite a lot, but that is because I had a lot to update on. However, I do not really think that those entries and a few entries after those are up to my par; they felt rushed and rather sloppy. However, I notice that when I take a few days to write an entry or I have all of the thoughts in my head and the feelings in my heart bunched up (Like when I write about Erin), I write better entries. And I like doing it this way. However, when I was busy cranking out reviews for Anime Academy, it would only take me an hour or two to pump one out. The big difference is that I try to keep my Anime Academy reviews around 400 words and that I try to get my blog entries as close to the 10,000 character limit as possible. Still, I do not like to rush what I write.
On Wednesday (December 31st), I went with my mother over to the Hershey Outlets to buy a pair of running shoes. I ended up getting a pair of Adidas Sambas and a pair of Nike Air Storm Pegasus. The reason why I wanted to get a pair of running shoes was because I want to get back into shape; I mean, when you look at the scale and it reads that you weigh almost 160 lbs without any clothes on, you get scared. I need to divert some more time to staying in shape and keeping my weight around 150 lbs (I would be happy with 140 lbs, but getting down that low would require a healthy diet, and there is nothing healthy about Pitt's fast food). As far as the Sambas, this is the fourth pair I have bought, and I even told my mother that I felt like a cartoon character when I realized how many pairs I have gone through (Cartoon characters tend to wear the same clothing and shoes). I have had the third pair, which I am currently still wearing, since my senior year in high school, so that makes them about three years old. However, the tread on them is still decent, so I think I will keep the fourth pair in the closet until I run the third pair into the ground.
Happy New Years!
Although I will not retell the entire story of my 2004 New Years party, I was talking with Allison about Erin towards the end of it (About 4:15 AM). In short, she helped me paint another portion of how I see Erin. In long, she basically said that Erin was usually at extreme moods during high school. By that, I mean that she was either very peppy and upbeat or very depressed and saddened. Allison did not give me any specific examples of this behavior, and I have mostly only experienced the happier side of those mood swings. However, Allison did say that Erin had mellowed out since she went to college, and such mood swings have become far rarer.

Still, that does not deter me in the slightest. I am still deeply interested in learning more about the woman that I love, although I should just talk to her directly about such things rather than finding out from her friends.
I am still stuck on page 150 of Battle Royale, and I think I will take it back up with me to Pitt so I can start it over from the beginning and read the entire book. Also, I got a free copy of the Book of Mormon a few years ago, and I think I should read it this semester as well. The reason behind that decision has more to do with wanting to understand the religion that Erin was brought up on rather than wanting to gain a better understanding of non-Christian religions.

A Confusion-wracked Heart

2003-12-31T14:53:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-25T15:24:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-22T16:46:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-12T03:52:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-07T00:55:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-06T15:32:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-05T18:32:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-05T02:29:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-04T22:19:00.000-05:00

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

2003-12-04T15:33:00.000-05:00

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.

Fallout

2003-06-08T01:42:00.000-04:00

Melvin Udall (Jack Nicholson) - As Good As It Gets
You make me want to be a better man.

Although she spoke many words, they could all be summarized into one: "No."

Friday (June 6, 2003) was a different day, and by that I mean different from the norm. Getting up at 6 AM to go to work is a strain on me, especially after getting only five hours of sleep, but this is normal. It was the first day this season that I was sucked into working overtime without my consent, and when you are working under the burning sun for hours on end, the chances of sunburns and frayed nerves increases dramatically. Nine and a half hours after arriving at work (I was 14 minutes late, but no one really cares as long as I do my job), I finally got to go home. I had talked to Erin on Wednesday (June 4, 2003) on the phone, and I had told her that I wanted to talk to her face-to-face (My parents told me that it made me sound like a stalker, but I am still trying to figure out how they came to that conclusion seeing as how a stalker would stay far away from their "victim"), and we had scheduled to have our chat on Friday since her folks were away for the day. After work, I felt extremely tired because the sunburn had taken a lot out of me (Which I will get more of later on in the summer) and I could not eat a thing (The folks had made steamed clam and a lot of other stuff).

Tired and unable to eat, I called Erin's house to come over only to get the answering machine. I thought that it was just going to be another step in a little game called "phone tag" because Erin had not really called me back a whole lot since I began my "bid." About 9 PM, she called me back (Much to my relief) and told me that we were going to go play some mini-golf at Adventure Sports. I got to her house not long after our phone conversation ended, and we headed off soon afterwards. Chris Singel (A friend of Erin) and Jordan (Erin's younger brother) came along with us. We killed two hours by enjoying a round of mini-golf, and without the scorecard, I found that the pressure to do well was off completely and it was just pure fun. Steve and Allison met us there at about 10 PM, and they stuck around from Hole 14 until the end (We practically sprinted through the first 11 holes, but our sprint turned into a slow crawl because of the group in front of us), but they did not come back to Erin's house.

Upon getting back to Erin's house, Chris left quickly, but I went inside with Erin and Jordan. Jordan went downstairs to watch some television, and Erin and I sat at the kitchen table to just talk. We talked about anything and everything: her soccer season, Brandon, her personal hairstyle (She had let her hair grow long, and I had never seen it long until our little date; she seemed almost like a different person with her hair in a different style), work, and a slew of other things. Talking with her like that helped me to find out a few things: she is quite intelligent if she focuses (My prior comment about her being like Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket fits her when she is very active, but not when she is calmed down) and she is very aware of her situations and what goes on around her. Finding out these facts put a smile on my face.

11:30 PM rolled around and Jordan went to bed. Soon afterwards, Erin told me that she was feeling a bit tired and wanted to know if it would be okay if she went to bed about then. Even though there was pressure there, I did not feel it; everything came out somewhat naturally. I sort of laughed and said, "Maybe it is just me... yeah, it is me." Erin acted a bit concerned, and then said, "Eric, if there is ever anything that you need to talk about, I am here." That opened the "doorway" to my starter "Well, there are words I just couldn't say before."

"I don't mean to drop a 'bombshell' of sorts on you, Erin, but I'm crazy about you... in a good way."

What surprised me (And brings up the possible concern that Allison had already told Erin my intentions) was that my comment did not really make Erin hesitate to respond, almost like she had been expecting to hear it for a long time. I just kept talking, and somewhere along the line, I told her "Erin, not trying to use a line from a movie, but when I think of you, it makes me want to be a better man." Although I was not after one, that comment got an "Aww" from Erin. Soon afterwards, I said something to the effect of "Erin, I do not mean for this to sound corny, but I was working in a freezer at -10F for a few hours today, and even though I was cold, the only thing that kept me warm was thinking of your smile." About midway through the conversation, Erin mentioned something about how I would eventually find my woman, get married, have kids, and grow old with them. My response was something like "Erin, this is the road of life (I drew an imaginary line on the table). All of that stuff is over here (I pointed to everywhere except the leftmost part) and I am over here (I pointed to the leftmost part). I am still trying to work on this part (Leftmost part); I could care less about sex (She was a bit startled by the sudden mention of sex) or even about smooching at this point in time because I am not there yet. I am happy with taking things one step at a time." The rest of my little comments meant to express my feelings did not really stand out, but she definitely got the gist of what I was feeling.

Like I said already, the sum of her response was "No."

Even though Erin became like Courtney in that she did not "accept" me, I understood and sympathized with her situation. In many more words, Erin expressed to me something that I knew already: the fact that she was going off to college in mid-August. She felt that she would get too attached to a boyfriend, and the thought of the relationship tearing apart at the end of the summer due to being too far apart would just break her heart (I should show her Hoshi no Koe sometime). Even though I brought up the fact that I thought that her cramped schedule would probably interfere with a possible relationship, it felt like she would have made plenty of time for me. Overall, if the "going to college" issue was not a problem, I got the impression that Erin would have wanted to start a more intimate relationship.

However, that is not the way things went.

After we both got our points across to each other, I went so far as to say with a laugh, "I doubt that we will both look at each other quite the same way from now on because of my feelings for you." The comment is true though. Erin wants to stay friends (For the time being, it seems), and while it will feel a bit awkward around her from now on because she knows how I feel about her, I think it helped solidify our friendship more. She even went as far as to say that we could still go out on little dates if I wanted to (The incentive is gone for the summer, but I would still love to take her out a few more times this summer), and hanging out would be no problem, just that the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing is not possible with her leaving for college. Our conversation began deviating into other subjects that were somehow related, her parents came back home, and I left about 12:30 AM after helping them to unload their car.

The result of our conversation left me with a mixed bag of feelings. I was happy that I had discussed my feelings about someone with them and that Erin felt closer to me despite not being closer. At the same time, I had not really gone anywhere; my intentions were to get into a relationship with Erin, and I had failed even though I could not affect the way that Erin wanted things to be for this summer. I am heartbroken by finally hearing what I already knew, but at the same time, I know I would have been more heartbroken had Erin got into a serious relationship against her will or with the end result being that she knew that the relationship had a time limit on it (And she would be unable to enjoy it to its fullest extent).

One thing I never got to tell her was that there is that fragile string of emotion that I wanted to bind us together somewhat. While that string does go by the name of "Love" sometimes, I feel that it only becomes that if the feeling is mutual from both sides. I may feel strongly for Erin, and while she has similar feelings for me, the whole college issue seems like it is a major hurdle that neither one of us can deny existing. While Erin knows that she would become too attached to me, I have a feeling that I would too; this attachment has been there for quite some time, but nothing as strong as I could imagine it becoming if we did begin a more intimate relationship.

I guess I may just be a cuddle bug at heart.

The "local fallout" seems to already be setting in. I already said that Erin's friendship with me has been solidified, meaning that I believe that it will only progress if given the chance. I know I will try to make any attempt I can to hang out with her, even if it cuts into other things (Such as hanging out with Brandon, which I have been doing a bit of lately). I know that nothing will go on for now, but it sort of feels like I have planted a seed for now and I only need to wait for it to germinate. In the meantime, I need to help that seed become all that it can be, and perhaps it can become a beautiful flower someday in the future if it is given enough care.

The global fallout of my "bombshell" has yet to be seen and realized. The whole self-destructive line of thought has dissolved now, and I need to have the patience to try again next summer. My only hope now is that my patience may pay off some day with Erin and that she is waiting as well. My dream will survive the test of time.

Foreign Territory

2003-05-29T01:57:00.000-04:00

As I read over my last entry, I realize it has one fatal flaw: I fail to fully expand on how Boy Scouts is fun and what duty requires. I fear I was just filling in "useless" words in an effort for a higher post count. I look back through my journal and realize that I have posted five times in five days, with only twelve hours separating "Minute Details" and "Forgotten Pictures." I need to stay away from post count or viewed count "obsession." Anyways...

Major Archie Gates (Three Kings)
The way it works is, you do the thing you're scared shitless of, and you get the courage after you do it, not before you do it.

Last Friday (May 23, 2003), I finally asked Erin out. The next night, we went to Appalachian Brewing Company for dinner, then met up with Steve and Allison to go see Bringing Down The House (A surprisingly all right movie) at a local theater in Middletown. Before we went to the movie, we stopped at a local Aeropostale where Steve and I tried on clothes while Allison and Erin gave their opinions on how they looked. I had Erin home by 11 PM, we hugged, and I asked her if she wanted to go out again the next week, to which she said, "Yes."

For my first steps into foreign territory, I thought it all went pretty well.

That same night, I went through the whole situation and tried to evaluate myself. As I recalled my own actions, I realized that I did not really act like how a boyfriend acts, but I further question my own actions and find myself saying that I did not open this door or pull out this chair for her because I want a casual relationship. Also, it felt awkward; I am not normally the kind of person to do those little things for someone else. When I first picked her up, I opened my car door for her, but it felt too weird; if we were in a closer relationship, it probably would not have felt abnormal. I had no problem with paying Erin's way through the whole night (She wanted to pay, but she had only $3 on her), but doing those little chivalrous things seemed too formal. And as I give the "paying her way through the night" idea more thought, it brings up another possibility: buying friends.

I could have come over to her house the next day, but I was confused as to what the "rules" were to how Mormons treat Sunday, the day of their Sabbath. Instead, I came over to her house on Monday (Memorial Day) with a 16 lbs box of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, to which Mrs. Schmucker replied, "Eric... why did you bring over ice cream? I am trying to keep off the pounds." Erin was happy to see a "massive" box (They are not massive to me anymore) of ice cream being brought to her house. As she ate a bowl of the stuff and we sat on her driveway, I got a chance to meet her senior prom date (Yet another Steve that she knows; I swear that she has at least a dozen friends named Steve). He mentioned something about a picnic, and suddenly, I was invited to go to a Mormon picnic. I certainly was not about to say "No"; seeing as how I wanted to get closer to Erin, I saw it as an easy way to get that much closer.

What I received made me feel more distant.

Upon going to the picnic, it was very apparent that Erin was welcomed quite openly by everyone because she knew everyone there. However, the sensation was quite different from my perspective. I use the term "Gaijin Complex" from Japanese Culture: A Primer For Newcomers because it accurately describes the situation. Basically, it was "us and them." Of the dozens of people I met there, only two or three actually went further than "Hi, my name is ______" when talking to me. While I was not expecting to be welcomed by everyone, I was not expecting such a cold response from almost everyone. After a while, I was expecting someone to openly say, "Get the fuck out of here," but that never happened; this never happened because most of them are almost painfully nice, and openly saying something that harsh is not in their nature. However, one thing I do not like is when people hide their emotions and feign politeness; covert dislike is just as bad as overt dislike.

I remember once reading in a book that Mormons had a specific word for non-Mormons, but the word eludes me at the moment.

Another specific feeling that I got from attending this picnic was that I was a dog on a leash with Erin holding the end. I realize that this was not Erin's intention, but this is how I felt when it was all said and done. We came together and never once did I stray further than 20 feet from Erin (Or rather, Erin stray from me) without her telling me to "Come here" or "Eric, I want you to meet Sister/Brother ______." She would "drop me off" at a table, go get some food, then come back to find me in the same place and not saying much. I would attempt to start conversations with people around me, but I received the "gentle" brush-off every time. I was the "dog" simply being led around by Erin and did not deserve any attention.

Today (May 28, 2003), Erin and Allison had an "All-Star" game for PIAA soccer (I guess it was their unofficial last soccer game in high school). I mention this because, as I left Erin's on Monday, I told Erin that we would probably do something on Wednesday (Today). However, what actually happened would be what I would call a "big fucking waste of time" (Granted, I was not doing anything specific nor did I have any plans for the rest of the night). After Erin and Allison lost their game, we drove to someone's house which was located behind Lower Dauphin High School, drove to the local Wendy's, and found out that our group of four was not having dinner together. Steve and Allison had to help Allison's step-father drop off a car somewhere, Erin got food with another friend at the Drive Thru (I guess they call it "Thru" instead of "Through" because it might cost them a few more bucks per sign if they spelled it properly), and I was left out to dry. Basically, I had been led around, thinking that we would do something semi-productive, and in the end, nothing happened.

In afterthought, I looked closely at people's behavior. With the exception for when Allison threw my right sandal at my testicles (Oh, does she throw hard), Erin never really paid much attention to me. I am not about to get envious about the fact that Erin talked to and gave more attention to Steve than she did to me, but it certainly is disheartening. And by no means do I want to "hog her all to myself" or anything stupid such as that, but it would be nice if she had just talked to me without me having to initiate the conversation. As I think harder and harder about this, it makes me feel as if the prior "progress" that I had with Erin simply went up in smoke; back to square one; like we never had gone out at all.

I found the words to ask Erin out, but I need to take it a step further from that. I think that I need to find the words to express my feelings towards her, to let her know that I want to be a bit more than friends, to let her know that I love her. But I would be a fool if I did not think that this would possibly scare Erin away entirely. I question the need to do this; I realize that our relationship is static because Erin is not really "taking me seriously," but I have a strong feeling that Erin would not be able to face me again if I express to her my true thoughts and feelings about her.

If self-improvement is not the answer, perhaps self-destruction is.

I already said in another entry "Erin makes me want to be a better man," but I realize that the opposite is true as well. If Erin can make me want to be better, then Erin can also make me want to be worse. I am not lying in the least bit when I say that thinking of Erin has made me seriously consider suicide. By no means do I want to bring harm to Erin, but the more I think that my attempted relationship with her is a complete failure, the more I consider suicide to be a viable option to solving a problem that I think is of the utmost importance: the ability to get close to someone of the opposite sex. I know that Kain would say something like "Anime will solve your problem"; my mother would say something like "Family/Work will solve your problem"; Brandon would say something like "Weed will solve your problem." However, I do not consider those to be solid solutions. I find two definitive answers: get into a closer relationship with Erin or suicide.

Another possible conclusion I cannot dismiss entirely: I just have not found her yet. I could just be overreacting to all of this and not looking at it from a more objective position. Erin is merely the first woman I have ever dated, and I am trying hard to make Erin be the "right" woman when she really cannot be. If this were true, then it would definitely break my heart seeing as how I already have my heart set on Erin. Just as I said a few months back, I just want a relationship with some real substance to it; I could care less about the sex aspect, but rather, I care about building a relationship that works and where the two of us care for one another beyond a mere superficial level. Even as I know Erin's personality and patterns, I have a bad feeling that she is not looking for a boyfriend, but that is not really an excuse to make my effort half-assed.

Asking Erin out in the first place was hard enough, but I still have to keep on going. Courage will come to me eventually; in the meantime, I have to tread lightly in the foreign territory that goes by the name of "Love."

Character Building

2003-05-20T04:37:00.000-04:00

The "Professor" threw out the 25-exposure roll of film. I guess that means I will never find out what was on it in the first place.

Hank Weis, ex-Reservation Director of Hidden Valley Scout Reservation
If you aren’t modeling what you’re teaching, you’re teaching something else.

When my family and I moved to Pennsylvania back in 1991, there was a two-year gap between when I had friends. In an effort to help me make some friends, my parents encouraged me to join Cub Scouts, but perhaps that was not their sole intention in condoning such an action.

I think I first joined Pack 108 back in the winter of 1993, but I may be wrong as far as the season is concerned. Anyways, I do not specifically remember any meetings, any campouts, or that stuff because they were not that memorable, or maybe I cannot remember them because it was just so long ago. However, I do remember all of the people I met there, stupid little activities we would do, and just... having fun. I will not go as far as saying that we had a grand ol' time or whatnot, but it was fun nevertheless. However, it seemed like it was just a prelude to Boy Scouts, sort of like how they want to sucker you into thinking or buying something by letting you try it out for free or only showing you the fun parts. That is my only guess as to what the true purpose of Cub Scouts is simply because there seemed to be no organized effort at anything other than the fun aspect.

Comparing Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts is almost like comparing apples and oranges; they are similar but they are also very different. Apples and oranges are both fruits but they taste very different by comparison; Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts are both organizations based upon similar principles but are entirely different when it comes down to what actually goes on. For example, Cub Scouts is child's play to say the least because everything is oriented towards children and it feels more like one big babysitting organization. On the other hand, Boy Scouts is the exact opposite because the scouts make shit happen, not the adults. Yeah, adults have to come along on campouts and hikes and all of those cute things, but they are not usually running the show (Okay, they do all of the financial stuff). It seems similar to the situation depicted in Robert Graves' Good-Bye To All That in the fact that the grunts (Scouts) are in the trenches doing all of the work while the officer and logistics staffs (Adults) sit in the back and try to make sure that things happen somewhat according to a designated plan.

As much as it seemed like Cub Scouts was trying to sucker me into joining Boy Scouts (Almost in a fashion that made it seem like "Oh no! Boy Scouts sucks a monster cock!"), there was no suckering because...

... Boy Scouts was even more fun.

Okay, I will admit that when I first joined Troop 108, I was picked on most of the time by the older scouts, but this seemed like a weeding-out process. Separating the chaff from the wheat, so to say. In short order, I earned the nickname Sox because I always wore these long white socks with stripes on them that I would pull up to my knees (And sometimes past my knees), and I earned the nickname while it was still summer. Everyone would laugh about them and make fun of me for it, and I eventually decided that shorter socks might be better. Another thing is that there were some other scouts in my troop who were just fucked in the head, and there is no other way to put it. As I look back and remember these people who were just screwed up, it does seem as if their only real purpose was to separate the willing from the weak, a "natural selection" like process (I could probably go on for the rest of the day with naming this process). However, as I became older and gradually began going up in the ranks, this process died off. This happened partially because I was just getting older and was not taking much more shit from these people, and part of it had to do with the fact that my troop was losing many of the older scouts who had originally been picking on me. Some of the older scouts had dropped out, but most of then became Eagle. This is a bit surprising because only 2% of all scouts ever become Eagle.

Anyways, Boy Scouts was a blast. There was no partying, drinking, or anything like that; just pure, clean fun. Hell, I gave up three summers to work (Read: volunteer) at Hidden Valley Scout Reservation just because it was fun. There was work involved in all of that, but most of the time, it was just raw fun. I gave up almost a month of the summers of 1998 and 2000 in order to go to Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico (Many miles of hiking, eating freeze-dried food, and running around where no trace of civilization existed with 80 lbs. of gear on my back). Even after all of that blood, sweat, and tears, I can still say that it was a damn fun time.

Somewhere along the line though, the line between fun and duty was blurred, and I am not sure if this is good or bad. The good thing is that when you combine fun and duty, you are more willing to perform your responsibilities because you want to. However, the bad thing is that you could possibly lose sight of your duties because you think that whatever is fun is your duty. Both are separate elements and can be combined, but even with the line blurred, you must be able to see through it all to know when to divide them.

I technically became an Eagle Scout on February 22, 2001, although my Eagle Ceremony was a month or two afterwards. As I stood at the podium to give my acceptance speech, I could not find the proper words to say. I kept saying "Scouts is fun" multiple times in various ways, but I never pinned down a specific reason. I had so many thoughts and memories rushing through my head that I just could not pick a specific instance to talk about to expand on the "Scouts is fun" idea. I think my parents have it on video, and I laugh about it as I think about it even now. It makes me feel silly because I was trying to make up my speech on the spot even though I had one written down in my pocket.

In my life, I have been to at least a dozen Eagle Ceremonies for people that I know in the central Pennsylvania area; however, I have been invited to many more. The main reason I did not go to any of those other Eagle Ceremonies was not because of time constraints or anything like that, but simply because of who the person was and how they "achieved" their Eagle. If I ever received an invitation from someone, it was because I was friends with them to some degree, but being friends with them does not mean that I should deny the fact that they may have fudged part of the "road" to becoming an Eagle Scout. While working at Hidden Valley Scout Reservation, I saw at least four or five kids per summer who would have their Eagle before they were even 14 years old. I never agreed with this because all of these kids were immature and did not understand what they were getting into. To them, it was merely a game; beat it as fast as possible and move onto the next big thing.

The most heart-wrenching part of all of this is seeing people not earn Eagle Scout when you know that they do deserve it. I am talking about those people who just put so much time and effort towards Boy Scouts that they lose sight of their personal objectives in it all or those people who have so much potential but squander it by quitting/never really taking advantage of what they can exploit from within themselves. I have seen many of these people go through Boy Scouts, and it truly pained me to see it going on around me all the time. While preppy kids would practically buy their Eagle Scout, there were other people who never got Eagle Scout but deserved it far more. On my Philmont 2000 Trek, there was a kid in my crew named AJ who openly admitted that his father (Who was also apart of the crew) pretty much did his entire Eagle project so that all that AJ had to do was "earn" merit badges at summer camp. After talking to a number of people from his troop, I got the impression that AJ never worked on any merit badges and had just forged the papers for all of them.

Becoming an Eagle Scout is something special to me; I even had an eagle tattooed onto my left shoulder blade to symbolize what I had become and so I could never forget who I am (Although other factors contributed to my desire to get a tattoo). I honestly believe that Boy Scouts made me a better person in many ways, and it does for many other young men as well, but I cannot deny that it loses its potency as people take advantage of the system. As I came back to Hershey for this summer, the "Professor" informed me that there was a new man in my troop who basically took control; since there is a relative lack of scouts, this man has gained leverage over my troop's leaders by pointing out that he has a strong sway over many of the parents and their decisions to continue supporting the troop (Monetarily and with their sons). I have no clue why this man wants control over a Boy Scout troop, but I cannot deny the "air" that he had around him the last time I went to a troop meeting.

Since then, neither the "Professor" or I have gone to a troop meeting; the troop we once knew is dead.

Despite all of that, I cannot forget all of the lessons that Boy Scouts has taught me, nor can I forget all of the people that I was friends with for those short seven years. At the very least, I got a "Get out of Jail Free" card from a Federal "mail cop" who happened to be my assistant scoutmaster. It was there to have fun, but if you dug only a little bit, it was there to help you mature and become a better person.

Forgotten Pictures

2003-05-18T14:16:00.000-04:00

Not too long ago, I unearthed a 15-exposure roll of Advantix film, and I had no clue where it came from or what it even contained. I made a "wise" move and got them all on CD as well as double hard copies, even though I did not know what they contained. The results were rather interesting. Most of the pictures were from my senior prom and a few were from Senior Week 2001 at Oceancity, Maryland.

This is a presentation of a few select pictures that will help put a face to names that I have mentioned and will mention throughout my entries. By putting a face to people, they become more real and alive.

Side note: If I ever get the other mystery roll of 25 exposures developed, I will try to post some of them as well.

Pictured (Left to Right): Steven Whetstone, Brandon Arce, and Eric Joseph (Me)
I have mentioned both Steve and Brandon multiple times, and up until the previous entry, Steve was only a name and had no actual face (To the readers, I mean), and up until this moment, Brandon was just a name without a face.

This picture was taken at my senior prom towards the end of the night. Brandon had some "gangster" thing going that night, and he always wanted to do "gangster-like" stuff (Not African-American gangsters; the intent was Italian-American gangsters). Anyways, this picture was us posing with "guns" in our hands. There was another picture on the roll that was taken only 20 seconds before this one where we were not prepared for it, and it came off as Steve and I giving the camera our deer-staring-into-headlights impersonations. I am a bit surprised that this picture came out as well as it did because of how rapidly we were just flying around and getting our pictures taken by all of our friends.

Also, this picture came after Courtney effectively dumped me (Something that I will never forgive her for). My hair was all messed up because it was windy outside in the gardens and because I had fallen to pieces. I cannot tell if I am smiling or just showing teeth (Nor do I remember now), but this was a rare moment after I was dumped because I looked happy.

Pictured (Left to Right): Michael Rittman, Erin Schmucker, Eric Joseph (Me), Brandon Arce, Meghan Turk, Allison Geiger, Steven Whetstone, Sharon Meilstrup, and Briant Giles
To say that this picture came out horribly would be an exaggeration; to say that this picture came out beautifully would be lying. I have no clue how or why the quality of this particular photo was not that great, but this is how it is, and I cannot help it. Anyways, this picture was supposed to be an "extension" of Brandon's "gangster" theme. I guess he saw a Godfather movie (Now that I think about it, I have never really watched an entire Godfather movie all the way through; this is something that definitely goes onto the To Do list) and got the idea that gangsters have big family portraits/pictures taken. The idea was good; the actual execution did not come out as planned.

This picture was of our group of friends (Aaron was not in this picture for some reason; as I think about it, I realize that I have not really spoken about Aaron in all of my entries, but I will in this one). It was taken as the prom was wrapping up, and we all stopped and got it taken on a whim (Actually, Brandon's whim since I guess he wanted a group shot bad).

I do not wish to bring unnecessary attention to something that I have already said before, but before you read the next sentence, look at the picture carefully and see if you notice something about me. I am the only one without a date. By this point, Courtney had dumped me like trash in a dumpster. Everyone else has their date with them, and this picture seems to bring to life a fear of mine: being lonely forever. I will not pretend that having a girlfriend/wife/whatever will automatically "fix" that fear, but it is apart of the solution. I see everyone else passing me by, happy with their spouse, and me left in the dust, alone.

Pictured: Steven Whetstone
Just a picture of Steve giving his best deer-staring-into-headlights impersonation. Actually, I think that Steve was trying to give a serious look at me while I took the picture, but he looks anything but serious.

Pictured (Left to Right): Meghan Turk, Erin Schmucker, Allison Geiger, and Sharon Meilstrup
Note: This picture was modified to remove excess "dead space" and focus on the people presented.

In this picture, the only person I do not know all that well is Sharon. She was Briant's date for the prom; an alright person and a little on the geeky side, but then again, most of the kids I knew in high school were a little on the geeky side.

Meghan is a rather interesting story. Brandon asked her to prom because he found that she was quite fun to be around, and nothing is really wrong with that. They both had a blast going together (Which makes me wish I had asked someone else), and at the part after prom, both of them started their infamous sexual relationship; still nothing wrong with that, even though Meghan was a sophomore and Brandon was a senior. Where things went wrong is when Brandon "corrupted" her, something that he takes great pride in telling other people. Basically, Meghan began giving Brandon almost nightly blow jobs; no vaginal sex, no kissing, no Brandon going down on Meghan. And this happened for the whole summer. According to Brandon, he kissed her two times throughout their relationship, and he never wanted to kiss her at all. They had to break up at the end of the summer not because Brandon was going to college, but because Meghan's mother caught Meghan sucking Brandon's penis at 2 AM one morning in August 2001. Brandon laughed the relationship off, and Meghan never really forgave him for "leaving" her.

There was the "family" picture before, but that did not provide a whole lot of detail of Erin. This picture shows Erin in much more detail, but since her dress was all black, the amount of detail is still quite limited. Anyways, Mike took her to prom, and I guess they had a good time, but it always felt like Mike and Erin were just good friends and nothing more. As I look over the picture more, it does not really do Erin much justice because she looked better than that at prom. I guess I will have to search around for a better picture of her at a later date and time.

Last but not least, Allison. Steve and Allison had been going out for a little more than six months when prom came around, and their relationship seemed a bit shaky at this point. I say this not because they were having major problems, but because they had yet to "open" themselves to each other. That did not stop them from both having a blast at prom, and actually, it seemed as if prom was a great bonding time for them.

Pictured (Left to Right): Aaron Freeman and Karen Norris
This is "jumping" ahead of things, but this picture was taken at Senior Week instead of our Senior Prom. I chose this one to show Aaron because I completely forgot the name of Aaron's prom date, and because this picture is a bit funny. This was taken right after Aaron got done downing a few shots of cheap vodka, and he was pretty much drunk at this point.

Since this picture was taken, Aaron has moved down to Oklahoma to go to college, and he has pretty much removed himself from our little group because of a constant lack of contact. He is a good friend, if not cocky and confident in everything that he says (And with the amount and type of stuff that would come out of his mouth, he always seemed pretty positive that that is how things happened).

Karen deserves to be talked about a bit. I am not quite positive, but Aaron and Brandon came into contact with her online. Only after they discovered that she was going to Oceancity, Maryland at roughly the same time as us did both of them gain an interest in her (They were also interested in her because she sent them a "hot" picture of herself, which they later said, "She looks completely different in real life than she did in the picture"). Karen is a good party girl, but it always seemed as if she was forced to "play mother" to drunks, as was the case in this picture.

Pictured (Left to Right): Eric Joseph (Me) and Courtney George
Note: This picture was modified to remove excess "dead space" and focus on the people presented.
Here is a picture of Courtney. Quite honestly, she is a cute little Italian girl. This picture was taken at her house before we actually got to the prom. As I look at the picture, I notice two things: my hair was really long then, and there is no contact between Courtney and I. Further talking about the contact part, I never touched Courtney in any way that could be perceived as the two of us having a closer relationship than being just friends. Holding hands or having my arm around her shoulder would have been presenting a false relationship in some sense.

I admit that there are some people that I dislike, but I hate Courtney for what she did. As I think about it, Courtney is the only person that I truly do hate in this world. I cannot forgive her for blatantly dumping me at the prom, and the fact that she refuses to speak to me only adds insult to injury.

These pictures bring back many good and bad memories.

Minute Details

2003-05-18T02:01:00.000-04:00

Just a slight update on my anime auditing: as of this entry, I have spent approximately $2,035.70 on anime, with a total retail value of roughly $3,795.99.

These facts bring up two things. First, I am very grateful for purchasing stuff from online sellers, because they have really helped me save a lot of cash (DVDPriceSearch.com is very useful for saving money on DVD purchases). Second, this means that, had I not bought any anime DVDs, I would have $2,035.70 more money in my bank account to do whatever I wanted with it; however, this is a case where I would say that money buys happiness.
As I look back over past entries and read them, I notice a change in writing style. Lately, I seem to be using a single-sentence paragraph as opposed to just long paragraphs with four to six sentences. I believe I adopted this style from Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. The weird thing about this "adoption" of writing style is that I have not read or seen Fight Club (For those who do not know, there is a book and a movie, and both are quite good) in well over a year, so it is a bit odd that I would suddenly "adopt" this style from clear out of the blue.

Anyways, I think I like using the single-sentence paragraph style because it separates specific thoughts and ideas from everything else that is going on. Like in my previous entry, I talk about Erin in large paragraphs, but I always keep Brandon mentioned in between paragraphs so that he does not completely disappear from the "picture."
Both Hershey and Pittsburgh differ in their amounts of African-Americans (Hershey is practically all Caucasian while Pittsburgh is a nice mix of ethnic groups), but there is something consistent: African-Americans are almost always given the "low" jobs.

In Pittsburgh, I spend most of my time at the University, and you just notice things very quickly. Almost all of the kitchen staffs, janitors, and door watchers (I am not really sure what else to call them, but they are the people who buzz you into a building when you swipe your Pitt ID card) are African-American. For the most part, the bosses of these people are Caucasian. Professors, police officers, and teacher's assistants are almost all Caucasian. The thing that confuses me is why it is like that. I mean, I have walked through offices at Pitt and found more Indian and Asian professors than African-American professors; actually, I have rarely seen an African-American professor, and I have not even had one yet in all of my classes. Pittsburgh itself has a healthily diverse city, but when it comes to jobs, it seems as if African-Americans are made slaves of their jobs once again.

In Hershey, I am all over the place, but it is entirely different from Pittsburgh. There may be a total of a dozen African-American families in Hershey (Excluding Milton Hershey School), but even then, I notice that African-Americans are given the "low" jobs. At Hersheypark, the only African-American employees work in the Employee Cafeteria as cooks. Basically, employees serving other employees is the lowest of the low in Hersheypark; not even the garbage or hose crew is that low.

I am still confused as to why employment positions are divided by skin color.
I begin to wonder if I am sexist when I actively notice that a group of people may be all women but I do not actively notice that a group of people may be all men. When I recently saw X-Men 2, I noticed that the pilot of an F-16 Falcon in one scene was a woman, but I know that if the pilot had been a man, my thoughts would not have pondered "The pilot is a man." Even in the Anime Academy Lounge a few months ago, I took notice that three women posted in the same thread in a row, but I do not notice when ten men post in the same thread in a row.

I wonder if other people have this same "problem."
Yes, another small commentary on Erin.

I cannot help but compare Erin to Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket, and I find many similarities. Both women are young, full of life, vibrant, very friendly, and not extremely intelligent. Now, the last characteristic that I mentioned may sound harsh, but it is the truth. I know that if I ever tried to have a conversation with Erin about politics, she would probably get lost very easily and not understand everything that I was saying. By no means is Erin stupid, but I would have a hard time calling her a genius. This may be the case...

... but that will not stop me from loving her.
I seem to be watching anime in short spurts these days. With summer here, I no longer have to worry about classes, tests, and homework, but mostly work and friends gobble up a large portion of my time. Whenever I do sit down to watch anime, it seems to just happen all at once, but it is never dragged out. For example, I had no work on last Monday and Tuesday (May 12 and 13, 2003), and during the daytime, my friends usually could not do anything, so I watched 20 episodes of Arc the Lad in those two days (All on the last four DVDs). I started watching Princess Nine, and because of time constraints, I could only watch three episodes. Since that Tuesday, I have not watched the series at all, and I will probably pick it back up on this Monday and Tuesday (May 19 and 20, 2003) in an effort to finish it off. However, I will not be having any regularly scheduled days off afterwards because Hersheypark becomes full-time starting May 22, 2003 (I am not positive about this date, but it is sometime around then).

Anime will be on the "backburner" most of this summer.
Yesterday, I had a momentary lapse of memory, and as I walked into my room, four things seemed overwhelming in my room: books, my computer, anime, and boxes. I quickly remembered that it was my room and everything felt normal again, but it felt like I was looking at my room through someone else's eyes for a moment. This seems to happen to me every once in a while. I may be driving down a road that I have driven down a thousand times, but I may suddenly have a lapse of memory; while I will not know where I am going, everything looks as if I have never seen it before, and consequently, I am given another perspective on the "same old, same old."
I openly admit/brag about the fact that I can swipe/steal 16 pound boxes of Ben and Jerry's ice cream from Hersheypark without getting caught. Just the other day, I swiped/stole a box of New York Super Fudge Chunk and brought it home for my family ("The Professor" abhors it because it has "icky" nuts). Only a day after the fact, I told Steve about it and he could not decide on whether I should get him Vanilla or Sweet Cream with Cookies (I cannot find the webpage for the flavor). I will probably get him a box of either flavor this weekend, unless one of my bosses who cares (Jerri, Richard, or Carl) catches me in the act, which then I would be completely fucked.
Here is a link to Steve's webpage at Pitt. I am a bit lazy and do not feel like linking his name in every entry that I mentioned, so this is a one-time deal (Also, the fact that a lot of my entries are only a few characters away from the 10,000 character limit is another good reason). Here is a page made by Steve that has multiple pictures of him and Allison (They may not be engaged, but they already are in my eyes, and every picture is worth a thousand words).

And while I am at it, here is my little About Me page. Yes, I do not know HTML or Java, but the page fills in those extra minute details about who I am.
And yet another Erin commentary.

Tonight (May 17, 2003), I drove Erin home from Steve's house. It was just so much fun talking to her about anything and everything for a good 20 minutes, and as I checked my cell phone while driving her, I noticed that I had not really stuttered. I spoke in a calm and clear manner, and I "maintained fluency" (As per what my speech therapists would always call it). I have noticed that this only happens around people I know relatively well and feel comfortable around; there is zero nervousness and it is independent of the atmosphere. Being conscious of the fact that I could speak clearly around Erin was reassuring, like knowing that your paper that you wrote in ten minutes will actually get a passing grade.

Now, I just have to get Erin a box of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. Steve already got his box of Sweet Cream with Cookies today, so Erin is next on the list at this point.

Words That We Couldn't Say

2003-05-16T02:54:00.000-04:00

Words that we couldn't say (Cowboy Bebop)
Someday maybe
We'll make it right
Until that day
Long endless nights
We couldn't say them
So now we just pray them
Words that we couldn't say

Last Friday (May 5, 2003), I got a call on my cell phone from my friend Brandon while I was at work. He briefly mentioned something about going to see a movie with Steve, but the main chunk of his conversation was aimed at the two of us hanging out somewhere. I agreed to call him back after I got out of work because I was a bit busy at the time. Ten hours later, I called him back, and he immediately wanted to come pick me up so we could hang out at his "friend's" apartment (I say "friend" because the person in question is borderline friend-acquaintance). It took me four times of telling him "I need to get a shower and eat some dinner" for him to understand that I would not be ready if he were to come pick me up at that very moment. He told me to call him back after I had done those two things, and I agreed to do just that.

I never called Brandon back that night.

I called up Steve after finishing dinner because I wanted clarification on the movie part of the conversation that I had had with Brandon earlier. Steve wanted the five of us (Steve, Allison, Erin, me, and Brandon; I find it a bit funny how I want to group myself with Erin even though proper English grammar dictates that the "me" or "I" goes at the end) to go see X-Men 2 at a local movie theater, and I thought it was a good idea (As opposed to hanging out with Brandon, spending the night getting high, and feeling like shit the next morning at work). However, plans never seem to survive their first contact with reality intact. We ended up going to Allison's house (Where she invited Jessica Caso over, but Jess has little to do with what we did) and played Trivial Pursuit for an hour or two.

None of us bothered to call Brandon.

With five players, we did not get all that far into Trivial Pursuit, partially because no one was especially good at the game and partially because we did not give the game enough time to be played out in full. After the game faded away, we sat around the television in Allison's basement and watched an English soccer game (All three girls are currently in soccer, even with Jess going to college), and I enjoyed my time sitting with Erin on one of the couches. We sat close to one another even though the couch was not small, and it felt great (Great does not begin to describe the feeling). Erin and I physically touched one another in different places and even held that touch for several minutes at a time, but never once did it feel awkward or wrong. It always felt nice. It was soothing to smell her; her odor is far from overwhelming but still holds its own presence. I may not be in a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship with Erin yet, but spending a good hour with her like that was a small slice of bliss.

I completely forgot about Brandon.

A few centuries ago, there was a death penalty technique referred to as "stoning" whereby stones were placed upon a person's chest until the person broke. I always have that feeling whenever I think of Erin but I cannot be with her, physically or in spirit; the feeling that there is just so much weight placed upon my chest that it slowly begins to crumble faster and faster beneath mounting pressure. It is just that feeling of an implosion that is impossible to evade because it is something that you carry around with you all the time. This feeling has no name, but if I had to name it, I would call it "Desiring love."

I have not talked to Brandon in days.

I mention both Brandon and Erin because I find a dilemma cropping its ugly head up: I try to get closer to Erin and I end up getting further from Brandon at the same time. If I cannot handle this dilemma correctly, I could lose both of them; losing even one of them would be terrible. If I can somehow find a compromise between both, I fear that I will not make any headway with Erin, or that the opposing interests of both Erin and Brandon would somehow tear me apart. Brandon is heavily into drugs and alcohol and he wants to "share" that with me, but if I were to be getting high everyday and drinking in the mornings to wake me up, that would probably turn off Erin from having any thoughts of getting into a closer relationship with me. At the same time, if I were to never consume drugs or alcohol again in order to please Erin, Brandon would undoubtedly get pissed off at me for "rejecting" that side of him.

I lack the words to say what desperately needs to be said, and this has nothing to do with my stutter. I need to be able to tell Erin my feelings for her, so that she may understand some of the feelings that run through my veins for her. I need to be able to say "Erin, I love you" to her face. At the same time, I need to be able to tell Brandon that, while he may love getting high as a kite everyday, I do not and cannot less I sacrifice all of my efforts towards getting with Erin. However, I need to learn to incorporate both Erin and Brandon into my schedule more and more with making as few and as small of sacrifices as possible.

Note: Took a few days off of writing this entry at this point.

At Erin and Allison's last soccer game, they lost, effectively ending their soccer careers in high school. After games, the girls soccer team usually goes over to the concession stands to meet their friends and family (I guess it is just a subconsciously decided meeting point, or something that one person does and everyone else follows), and Allison was the only one to come over. She was in tears because of their loss, and Erin did not even come over (Even though her family was there at the game). About an hour and a half later back at Hershey High School, the girl's team was dropped off, and I had decided to stay around and greet them all as they got off (Which brings up the question of whether that would be called a really "sweet" move or signs of a stalker). Allison was still in tears, and Erin was in tears as well. However, there seemed to be a large shift in mood: what were once tears of sadness over losing were now tears of sadness over never being able to play with their team again.

I gave Erin a hug at that point, but I question this move on my part; was this hugging just something used to comfort her or to comfort myself. My intention was to comfort her, seeing as how I rarely do ever hug her, and this would be seen as something "rare" or "special." However, what if I just wanted to comfort myself? As I think about that prospect, it feels almost like having sex with a woman who just recently lost a family member; there is no meaning in the sex, and you are "using" the woman when she is in extreme emotional distress. Basically, taking advantage of someone else when they are in a "weakened" position. As awkward as this possibility may sound, it is not something that I want to dismiss altogether.

Erin's eyes may not be very pretty, but she has an excellent smile and a good personality to boot.

Brandon has called my cell phone multiple times in the past few days (He even got one of his friends to call my cell phone in an "effort" to get me to respond), but I have not bothered to call him back. I question my actions, wondering if this is the proper move that a friend should make. Ignoring friends is not what other friends do, but at the same time, I do not want to be constantly pulled in directions that I hate or dislike. This brings up another topic for another entry, but that will happen at another time. I understand how a lot of drugs work through first-hand knowledge and use of them, but using drugs makes me lose control of who I am. As I think of this happening, I am reminded of Brandon. If there was ever a drug I needed, I could get it from Brandon in as little as 30 minutes. However, I do not feel a need to use drugs on a regular basis; Brandon wishes to force it upon me.

Some may say that Brandon is only encouraging me to smoke weed or snort cocaine with him, but that is an incorrect statement. In the past five months, every time I have seen Brandon, drugs always enter the picture in one way or another. I will go over to his house, and he will want me to down shots of cheap vodka with him for little or no reason. I will go over and hang out at one of his friend's apartments, and he will want me to smoke a few bowls and then drive home. It is a constant peer pressure to do drugs, and I honestly do not know why I should not be able to enjoy life without getting high as fuck everyday. It just feels as if every time I go hang with him, I will have drugs thrust upon me despite any wish to remain "clean."

Saying "No" is the hardest part.

On paper, it is easy to write "No, I don't want to take drugs"; in a DARE class, it is easy to promise "I will always remain drug-free." However, try saying those lines to a friend of yours who you have known for many years. Those lines are useless when telling a friend "No," because in some sense, refusing drugs from a friend is also refusing your friend. If they support it and you casually toss it aside, you trivialize what they hold dear.

While I do not want to deny either Erin or Brandon, I know that I will be forced to make a choice sooner or later. Something that I need to find is the courage to tell both of them what is needed. For Erin, I need to properly communicate my feelings to her about how I think we should get into a relationship together. For Brandon, I need to properly communicate that I do not always want to take drugs, and that when I tell him "No, I don't feel like doing a gravity bong now," I am not "throwing away" who he is; I am "throwing away" drugs.

But these words elude me at their most needed moments.

Bygone Talk

2003-05-15T04:32:00.000-04:00

Call me a lazy bastard, but I felt like posting an old "autobiographical" paper that I had due in Political Science 1375 (Religion and Politics) this past semester. Should be an interesting read...

Eric Joseph
Political Science 1375
January 17, 2003

Judging by the results of the religious survey taken last Friday, I am a secular humanist. To be quite honest, I never have heard of the term “humanist,” so it did come as quite a shock. At first, I thought the results were wrong, however, as I read into the description of what a humanist is, I agreed with it more and more. I checked out some sites regarding humanism, and for one of the few times in my life, I was stumped by the fact that I had nothing to argue against being one. Usually, whenever I am classified as a specific something, I feel the need to argue against my being that.

For example, last semester, after speaking with the school, I was deemed to be disabled because I have a stutter. My argument against being labeled as “disabled” is that it is suppose to be an excuse for many things, but I find that it is only a burden. Since I do not want to be burdened by such labels, I do not feel that I am disabled. I would tend to agree with the label “handicapped” because it denotes an ability to still function but slightly hindered, while disabled denotes broken, needless, and inoperative. Some people may feel that changing this wording is only a way to fool myself into believing that I am something more than what I already am, but I think that it helps both sides on a subconscious level.

Anyways, onto the meat of this paper. I feel that since I am not held to any religious belief, I am better able to see political issues in a different light. By that, I mean that a majority of the population of the United States is religious, and since most of them grew up regarding their religion as “superior” in one way or another, they are going to tend to go one way over another. Another way to put it is that since all religions have an agenda and since people are influenced by their personal religion’s agenda, their views are much closer to their own religions despite any of their protests against such accusations. Since the world of politics has to do with people, and more specifically, interactions between people, there is a war of agendas constantly being waged as people try to do or have done what they want. Thus, it is safe to say that religions persuade a majority of this war of agendas.

Where might I come into all of this? Well, I do not have any ties to any religion, thus I am not held to any specific ideology. In this fashion, I am free to think and do as I please without feeling that I may have gone against anyone in particular. As far as my own agenda goes, I guess you can say that it is manipulated by a philosophy called humanism, but seeing as how I have never read any books pertaining to humanism and that I was born from a family that was half Protestant and half Jewish (Sorry, but I do not know which specific sects or factions they are from), I feel that I am not bound by humanism.

As far as what is on my agenda, I am searching for a place where we (Humanity) can live our lives in peaceful days, with no wars and no stealing; a place that is not run by fear; a place where people can live and can actually trust other human beings. I think I would call this place paradise. However, now that I have a defined ends, the means is where politics comes into play. My idea may sound like a bunch of bullshit on paper because there is no one way to get to this paradise. I would like to believe that it would take a collective effort in order to realize such a dream, however, as much as I would die to make such a place a reality, there would probably be even more people who would want to stop such a dream from coming true.

Before I came back to Pitt from Christmas vacation, my mother told me to fill out a voter registration form because I had not done so for the previous elections in November. I went down the form, filling out all of the boxes and writing in what they wanted. However, probably the one part that surprised me the most about me was the box marked “Political Affiliation.” I feel that I am a pretty liberal person, and most people would guess that I would have checked the small box next to either “Democrat” or “Green.” The weird thing is that I marked “No affiliation.” Some people may just wonder what may be wrong with that, or perhaps why I was weirded out by my own response in such a way. I think it was because I did not want to feel any obligation to vote for any party in particular.

Admit it to yourself, but when you say that you are a Democrat or a Republican, you feel as if you should vote for them despite what their platform is. I know that is what many people feel. And sometimes, it is the other way around; people vote for a party not out of obligation for their own party, but rather out of an obligation to not vote for the other party. Forget what the issues are in the campaign, because it becomes irrelevant to some people at this point. Parties simply become names for some people, and issues become meaningless.

For me, I like to look over all sides of the issues and see who stands where. I might be liberal, but that does not mean that the conservative side of the spectrum is not home to some perspectives that I consider being correct. The one thing that I do hate is when people blindly vote for a party without understanding or even knowing what issues that party is supporting. I will use my own mother as an example. She is a major advocate for a women’s right to abortion, so often times, her vote will usually hinge upon which candidate supports abortion. If all candidates support abortion, then it comes down to party, because she makes an automatic assumption that Democrats are right and Republicans are wrong. Never mind the fact that perhaps the Republics may support a better social security system, or that Democrats may support the building of a national defense system that 95% of the population is vehemently opposed to. She puts her blinders on to such things, and labels parties as black or white. I guess in some ways, that is her way of being a good citizen, but I see it as almost disrespectful towards the hardworking men and women who dedicate their lives towards the political world. Yeah, I may not agree with what some of them represent, but I should at least look over and understand their issues before I vote.

Quite honestly, I am not sure what you were expecting from this paper. Perhaps you wanted some long dissertation about my political attitudes towards major issues confronting the United States in today’s day and age, or maybe you wanted our own stories on how we came to form our beliefs of right and wrong. Whatever you were looking for in this paper, I probably either nailed it on the head or I briefly spoke about it. On the other hand, maybe the point of the paper is to simply allow me to reflect upon what I wrote down later. Whatever the point may be, I guess that is what each person who reads this paper has to come to a decision on.

I am not exactly sure why I decided to bring up this particular paper, as it did not really pertain to much of the class' material, but as I read over it, I realize that I wrote it in a similar fashion as how I write a lot of these entries. I start off with a basic idea, and from there, I usually go off on different tangents relating to that idea. However, some entries (Particularly the "Faces" entry) seem to lack a general direction in their construction.

Not trying to bring politics into everything, but I would say that I lean closer to being liberal than I do being conservative. With this fact in mind, I try to be objective towards both sides, whatever the situation may be.

At Erin's last soccer game (Another thing: I always find a way to bring Erin into a journal entry), they were playing the first round of districts against Penn Manor. Although I may not be the best soccer referee (Seeing as how I do not know all of the proper rules and I did not have the proper perspective of the field), I would always call fouls regardless of the side and score. I can remember Allison intentionally nailing some other girl out on the field and she did not get called for it. The same would happen with Penn Manor. However, as being a fan, one thing always irked me: parents and fans would always scream out "Foul" or "Obstruction" when there was clearly no foul or obstruction on the field of play. This seemed like a clear sign of not being objective to what is going on almost to the point of ruining the game.

I just hope that the referees were as objective in their calls as possible.

Another aspect that I took in this paper: paradise. Many different people have many different definitions of paradise. I pretty much ripped the first line of the fifth paragraph from an episode of Trigun (Said by Vash in episode 22), but it got across an idea that I hold dearly: my view of what paradise is and should be. And just like I said in that same paragraph, I would die to make that paradise a reality, and as much as I would die to make it happen, many more people would die just to prevent that paradise from being created. It may not be that these people do not want a paradise to be created, but rather, because they do not want my paradise to be created. My idea would be of a utopia, but incidents going on around me all the time make me question whether or not human beings would be able to handle a utopia; true "perfection" is in the eye of the beholder, and also, people have a habit of being destructive after everything is said and done.

I wonder what thoughts I wrote down further into the past. Sooner or later, time will tell.

Stray Thoughts

2003-05-05T22:38:00.000-04:00

Please note that this post was written out over a period of a few days.

I received my grades from Pitt by mail yesterday (May 3, 2003). Amazingly, I passed all of my classes even though I turned in almost nothing for Religion and Politics (Which I got a B- in). It looks like I will be a junior at Pitt in four months. Wonders never cease...
I have an immense dislike for people who drag their feet. You know those people who walk along and all you hear is *SCUFF SCUFF SCUFF* from their shoes because they are too lazy to pick them up another inch. Okay, I let that go for the people who are physically inhibited and cannot walk normally, but I see so many people everyday that walk along and drag their feet on the pavement like the gravity was cranked up an extra 2 Gs, and these are usually the people without any physical problems.

I think this says a lot about the person's character, namely that they are probably lazy in one way or another, and that they could be shallow. It annoys me to see this going on all the time. It is not like everyone does this, but more than enough do drag their feet. If I ever did something like this, I would probably kill myself (Or let it slide because it would be "Okay" by my different standards on my different self; I probably would not even notice it).
I cannot stop thinking about Erin. I hope my thoughts and feelings for her are not fleeting like a crush or something similar. I know I have never loved someone in this way before, and as much as I want to "get it right the first time," I do not want to feel like some ronin for the rest of my life.

Last night (May 4, 2003), Allison and Steve wanted to borrow Lance's car so Allison could practice driving stick shift. Afterwards, we went to Friendly's and had ice cream, and I told Allison how I felt about Erin (Steve already knew prior, but had not told Allison about it). It felt nice telling someone else my feelings directly and then receiving feedback on what to and what not to do. Allison even asked me, "Eric, do you want to have a girlfriend who is constantly cheerful, upbeat, always going places, and does not usually has a lot of time for any one thing?" I hesitated in answering her only because she said practically everything that I had already knew and thought about Erin, but I gave her a "Yes" in short order and without any doubts. Allison then asked me, "Eric, can you stop drinking and smoking while you are with Erin?" I replied with a laugh, "You act like that would be difficult."
The running joke with my mother is that she should become a professor at Pitt and teach Blonde Logic 101 class (Brunette Logic 201 is down the hall). This started last Sunday, and my mother laughed at this prospect, considering it a joke aimed only at her occasional stupidity. After saying this joke multiple times, it completely lost all humor that it once had and no longer became funny. However, I began calling her the Professor (I will stop referring to her as this in a few days when she understands that she should quit acting like an idiot all the time), and I think she is mostly annoyed with this constant "harassment" I throw at her. Whatever... She is the one who could not figure out how to open up my grade report from Pitt even though it said clearly "Tear Here" in three spots.

Knowing how she is, maybe I will just refer to her as the Professor for the rest of the summer.
I am currently trying to "audit" myself and figure out exactly how much I have spent on purchasing anime (Usually in the form of DVDs). I know that it will add up to at least $1,200, and I know that my friends and family would be horrified to learn this fact. Yet, I know that no one has a problem with my mother refinancing the house just so they can purchase two cars that they really do not need at all. I wonder if they would be horrified to know how much money I have spent on purchasing books throughout the years (I already have shelves of read books and a box full of unread books, and I know that it would all add up to at least $1,500). What about computer games?
My parents keep on dumping more and more shit into my room as if it was a second closet. I have no problem with them doing that when I am at college, but when I am living at home for the summer, they need to learn to not fill up my room with garbage. Now that I give it some thought, I should just bring a garbage can into my room (I forgot to mention, but my room is the smallest in the house; even the guest room makes my room look like a small box by comparison) so I can just dump out all of this shit that is laying around. Who collects those "collectible" Hess trucks? Either way, the next time there is a garage sale at my house, I am going to drag that garbage bag full of stuff out to the driveway and mark it for 1¢. If that does not do the trick, then I am sure that the garbage men will be less than happy to drag it away.
I looked through my senior year yearbook from high school (Called the Choclatier 2001) the other day, and afterwards, I could not tell if I was scared or delighted. I glanced through all of the pictures, and without looking at the name titles, I could not even remember a quarter of the people's names. I know for a fact that I could name all of the people in my graduating class by the sound of their voices only a scant two years ago, and now, I have a problem recognizing who Rebecca Gassert (Voted the Best Looking by my class, and she definitely deserved it) even though I knew a dozen guys who told me that they wanted to rape her until she bled (Not surprisingly, I found talk that was more disturbing than that throughout high school). I find that it is scary simply because I spent a good chunk of my life (Nine years) with most of these people for nine months of a year and I cannot remember their names; at the same time, I am relieved to know that I do not know most of their names because a lot of them were complete assholes and I could care less if they lived or died. This will be something that I will have to spend some time pondering about.
Yesterday (May 4, 2003), I went to Hersheypark for "orientation" at 10 AM. I had a problem with waking up then, and I know that I will have to wake up at 6 AM most days just to get to work on time. Anyways, I got to "orientation," and it was a bad joke. Most of the content was directed at people working in the Foods department, and although I work in the Foods Warehouse, we are entirely separate by rules and responsibilities. I could care less about customer service (I found it weird that they want to refer to customers as "guests" but they call them "customers" while "orienting" their staff) simply because I am almost never physically inside of the park; I drop off food at certain places around the park, and verbal contact with guests is kept to a minimum, which is usually "Sir/Miss, please get out of my way" or "No, the Wild Cat is straight down this path and is directly across from the Mouse." Nevermind that there are enough maps scattered all over Hersheypark so that even a blind man could find a way from point A to point B in a matter of seconds, but they feel the need to bother me for directions while I am carrying around 120 lbs of melting ice that is for keeping their soda cold.

As I think about this more, I realize something: how am I going to juggle work and a relationship with Erin? The problems keep on piling on...
Bert spends most of his days on my bed. He is my teddy bear, and this is something that most people find mildly disturbing whenever they do find out that I sleep with a teddy bear. There is nothing special about him; peach-colored fur, two black beads for eyes, and a brown nose. He wears a pink-red bracelet around his neck that serves as his necklace (The running joke with it is that he got it at Mardi Gras in New Orleans) as well as medical tape wrapped around his right leg with writing on it reading, "Get well soon! Ali, Erin." In short, a cute little teddy bear.

I remember getting him almost two years ago after I screwed up my right leg in a four-wheeler accident. Allison and Erin came over one afternoon a few days after my accident and gave me a few things to cheer me up (Besides Bert, this also included a plastic rose, a bottle of "anti-stress" bubble bath, and their company), and it was all greatly appreciated. Since then, I have subtly "grown close" to Bert by taking him almost everywhere that I go. If I am at Pitt, I will just leave him on my desk, but if I may be going home for the weekend, I will take him with me. There is no attraction towards him in any way, but more of a sign of respect towards who he is. He may be an inanimate object, but I think he represents something critical: caring.
I started reading Battle Royale by Koushun Takami almost a week ago, and although I am only 200 pages into it, I find something a bit disturbing: I had this exact same idea for a television show, and I thought that this is what "Survivor" was supposed to end up being. The whole "Survivor" television series ended up being "the pussy way out" in my mind, and I thought that if they wanted real television, they should create a show where people are dropped off on an island and are forced to kill one another. In short, natural selection on live television. Show people just how disgusting and brutal killing really is, and make them realize that wars create no glory and no heroes. Of course, I know that this message would be skewed in the end just to get better ratings and whatnot.

I have to remember to try this format on a later date. It is fun to have the "oddball" every once in a while to talk about little things instead of long "essays" used to discuss only one topic.

The Hedgehog's Dilemma

2003-05-04T01:35:00.000-04:00

The Hedgehog's Dilemma from Arthur Schopenhauer's "Parerga and Paralipomena"
To keep themselves warm, the hedgehogs huddled together causing them to be pricked by each others' spines, thus making them keep a distance from each other. As the night wore on, they huddled and separated until finally they found a common, bearable distance from both their spines and the cold.

I think that I may be in love.

Many problems seem to stem from my stuttering problem, and simply ignoring them does not fix them. For a good six years of my life, I spent everyday in school being tormented for being different, and this is not some pity vote. I can remember catching flak from everyone about anything, whether it was because I wore the wrong pants to saying the wrong thing to saying anything at all. Consequently, I am always apprehensive to do many things. While I always want to reach out to everyone however I can, I am hindered by this communication obstacle that I cannot get around. I hate my stutter and it usually only helps to make me hate myself, who I am.

While I am hesitant to reach out to someone else for love, it is something that I just want; something that I can feel in my bones. This is not some silly "I need a quick fuck and I will be alright" situation. In fact, it has almost nothing to do with sex. If it was only sex, then this would be an easy situation and I could have hopped into bed with a number of women throughout my years. Hell, the whole virginity debacle is overrated as far as I am concerned, and I would have no problem with "giving it up" if the problem was only a need for sex. I will not deny that sex is apart of this feeling, but it is only a small portion. There is far more to a relationship than just sex, and for anyone who believes that the only fun in a relationship comes from sex, I pity them.

Her name is Erin Schmucker.

I met Erin for the first time back in my senior year of high school, and at the time, I was a bit annoyed with her constant upbeat and cheerful attitude, although I do not know why I was like that (Perhaps it was the "senior year attitude"). My friend Brandon told me to take her to the senior prom, but I did not want to. By this time, I was cool with Erin, but I had my eyes set on taking Courtney George (Actually, I initially wanted to take Amanda Frankeny, but I never worked up the courage to ask her, and the fact that I had friends that directly knew Courtney made it a lot easier). In short, Courtney dumped me at the prom, and that was the closest I have ever come to literally killing someone before. For a more detailed account of what exactly happened at my senior prom, click here, but in short, it was bad. However, I think that the turning point that brought me back to my humanity was when I danced with Erin. My eyes were still teary from crying so much, but as I danced with her, my tears dried up and I felt bliss.

The next Homecoming dance at my high school (Which took place during my freshman year at college) was spent with Erin. The dance itself was a big "bleh," meaning that it sucked, but my time spent with Erin was a blast. I openly admit to being one of the worst dancers to ever walk on Earth, but dancing with Erin made me feel like I could make John Travolta look like a one-legged idiot next to me. I cannot keep a beat, but with Erin, I could do anything. I felt like I was ten feet tall; like I could take on the whole world and be home in time for breakfast; like I was in love.

Erin makes me want to be a better man.

Let me clear up a few things about Erin. She is not hot at all, but she is definitely cute, and I could easily call her beautiful without feeling that I was lying or twisting my own words. She is two years younger than I am and has yet to graduate from high school. She is a small Caucasian girl who is one of the kindest people I have ever known, and when I call her kind, I call her "kind" to the point of being ignorant about some things (Mostly in sexual matters). She makes friends very easily and I would have a hard time believing that anyone could hate her. She is very cheerful to the point that it is depressing as hell to see her in pain or just not happy; when she smiles, it makes you want to smile as well. I would not say that she is an intellectual person, but she is definitely smart; she lacks that certain complexity to make me want to say that she is a "deep thinker," but she is still intelligent.

Erin is a Mormon.

I mention this religious aspect not simply for the sake of making some idiotic comment like "OMFG, SEH'S MORMOM!!!111" or anything like that, but because I know that it is a subject that would come up sooner rather than later were we to get into a serious relationship. This is only one issue that makes me hesitant to get into a relationship with her; I am not Mormon and she is. I may be incorrect, but from my understanding of Mormonism, I would have to be converted in order for us to become married, and I do not intend on joining a religion simply because I am in love with a lovely lady. I realize that marriage requires a lot of compromises, but I feel that changing myself in such a fashion is going a bit too far. I fully respect her beliefs, but twisting myself in such a way would be manipulating who I am; I have no belief in a god, nor do I plan to ever adopt such beliefs.

Last night (May 2, 2003), we (Steve, Allison, Erin, and I) went to Applebee's for dinner, and I can say that we had a good time (Now that I think about it, I have not discussed who Allison is; basically, Allison is Steve's "fiancée," a term that they do not like to use but I use because of their very close relationship). While there, a few things of interest happened. Other than the usual chit chat, I found out that Erin enjoyed making out, which was a plus for me, because knowing how nothing sexual would ever happen with her until marriage, making out is still a lot of fun (Something that I found out through another incident that I may discuss in the future). A possible big minus was when Allison said to Erin, "Yeah, and when you do go to your college (I forget the exact name of the college, but it is suppose to be a Mormon college), you can find hot guys there and actually date them." I say that this is a possible minus because Allison always has this ring to her voice that makes it sound like she is being sarcastic most of the time. However, if she was being serious when she said that, then I fear that any relationship with her beyond friends would be impossible.

I fear rejection. There is no hate of rejection, but definite fear, and a reasonable one at that. I do not want to be cast aside by someone that I treat as a friend or something similar. I remember being rejected by Courtney at my senior prom, and it felt horrible, disgusting, disheartening, and scary. I think that was the first time I ever truly felt rejection on a more personal male-female level. Once tasted, it is a feeling that I will never forget, just like the first time you ever smell burning human flesh. I am afraid that if I am rejected by Erin, my perspective of her will change for the worse, which is not something I want but is almost involuntary. I like Erin as a friend and I want to be in a closer relationship, but I do not want to taste rejection again, not on that level.

However, I am jumping ahead of myself by thinking about long-range plans; I have yet to actually start dating Erin, and I always have nagging doubts in the back of my mind about this desire. I do not wish to "toot my own horn," but this is the part that sucks about being intelligent: you think about everything from multiple angles in order to have a better grasp of it and yourself. I cannot help but to think about one possibility: Erin does not like me in the same way that I wish/perceive. Another equally disturbing possibility: I do not know how to love someone else. These are possible avenues I cannot deny existing, almost like how I cannot deny the mask on my own face most of the time. I do not want to believe that they can exist, but they may.

Maybe Erin does have similar feelings for me.

I fear the Hedgehog's Dilemma. I fear that Erin and I are at our comfortable distance from one another, where we know that we cannot get any closer without hurting one another in some way and where we know that we cannot back away from each other without leaving one another feeling "cold." I always try to take down my spines in attempts to be closer, but I know that as I am taking down some spines, others that I may not see in time are going up. I want to get closer, even if that may mean that I could be hurt by whatever happens. I have been a hedgehog for so long in an effort to protect myself, but now that I want to be close to someone else, I find that I may hurt her unintentionally while protecting myself.

I find myself at a pivotal junction in my life: take a chance and try to get into a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship with Erin (For all of the knowledge that I possess, I still do not know how to "ask a woman out") or take the easy/lonely way out of it and just stay friends with Erin without trying to get closer. I know I could wade through piles of dead bodies while swimming through blood and bile, but I hesitate to ask a woman out on a date. Just knowing about this fact makes me feel pathetic, but I know something else: whether or not I am rejected by Erin, it will be a growing experience for me. At the same time, I do not want to feel that type of pain again, but I know that I will have to sooner or later.

Someone once asked me why I enjoy writing. I think that by writing, I can slowly take down those spines, one by one in an effort to get closer enough to someone else.

I am in love.

Procrastinating the Inevitable

2003-04-17T15:07:00.000-04:00

I do believe that my previous entry would indeed be classified as "crap." Okay, maybe not all of it, but the large part of it lacks general direction and does not get my point across. I will probably revise and make another entry about a similar topic in the future. Anyways...

Lord Chesterfield (1694 - 1773)
Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness; no laziness; no procrastination; never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.

I think I get a slight thrill out of procrastinating all the time. Just the rush of "Oh sweet mother of Gandhi, this report is due in five minutes and I have not even started it yet" or "Fuck! Class started a minute ago and I am all the way across campus" situations. Basic formula is always "Interjection + Very limited period of time + Impossible to get it done properly = Procrastination at its greatest," or something along those lines.

I wonder if procrastination is an addiction.

In all honesty, my life is pretty boring. Yeah, it does have its moments of excitement, but those are few and far between. The last time I was truly excited about something was when I was going home for the weekend a few weeks back, and I cannot decide whether I was more excited over the prospect of seeing my family again or sorting through piles of anime that I had ordered. Maybe it was just all for the anime, which in that case, I would say that I am a bad family member because my life does require some devotion to my own family. I am sure that some people would not mind being excited over sorting through a few hundred dollars worth of anime DVDs, but if that was my sole reason, then I would say that it was a bad reason. However, I admit that I was homesick and that I wanted to see my family, sleep in my own bed, and just waste away a weekend at home enjoying things that I normally do not have a chance to enjoy (i.e. ice cream). I guess I will compromise and say that it was a bit of both sides: family and anime. Wow... I am an anime addict. I wonder if this is good or bad.

Today (Wednesday, April 16), I have a final test in Astronomy 0089, which I have yet to begin studying for; tomorrow, I have a 5-page paper due in Comparative Politics 0300 discussing how Cuba is classified between totalitarian and authoritarian style of government, which I have not started yet; and Friday, I have a 10-page paper due in Religion and Politics 1375 discussing how adherence to Christianity demands a feministic worldview, which I have three pages done. Instead of studying or writing all of that just yet, I am typing this journal entry.

But I do not find what is so thrilling about staying up until 6AM (Or oftentimes, right before the paper/test is due/about to occur) in an attempt to finish or cram. Indeed, this causes unnecessary stress on myself, and... I hate it. I hate staying up until all hours of the night doing such ridiculous bullshit as typing a paper that ends up being 12 pages single-spaced. I hate cramming so hard and for so long that I end up not eating, causing myself to fall into a state of malnutrition, and be sick for a week. I just hate it. There is no fun to be found in procrastinating until unheard of hours of the night, trying to get in that last few minutes of studying or that last few sentences of a paper. Yeah, all of that may get me a good grade when it is all said and done, but it just plain sucks. Who learns by coughing up a few papers in a week or regurgitating answers back onto a Scantron sheet? It almost seems fruitless. Yeah, I could just say that we are all going to die eventually, therefore, there is no point to doing all of this, but that is the easy way out of it all. I am just saying that procrastination only delays certain pains and that I will have to do most of this stuff eventually. And yet, I still procrastinate despite my knowing of what it will bring.

Maybe I am just a lazy asshole. That would be a pretty simple and straightforward answer, and I think this one holds a bit more water. I think this falls along the same lines of "Hard work may pay off tomorrow, but procrastination pays off now." This seems to emphasis a pleasure principle whereby I am rewarded now rather than later. The reward may be even greater later on in life, but that does not matter; now is best, even if the reward will be minute and ephemeral.

Note: I took a break for a day to do work. At this point, I have only my 10-page paper due in Political Science 1375.

Anyways, it still sucks hard. Okay, maybe not as much now that I have weathered a bit of the storm so far, but I still hate it all. Do not get me wrong; I am not the kind of person who hates very easily, but this is just a silent hate of mine, nothing that I would ever talk about normally in real life. The fact of the matter is, I hate that I just delay things until the final moments.

This morning, I was up until 4:30AM working on my Political Science 0300 paper, and I took a sleep break until 7:00AM, at which time I took a shower and finished off my paper. I know for a fact that I did a horrible job on the paper, and it was not the fact that I had a limited amount of time to work on it. Okay, that was a slight factor, but I would say that a major factor is that I just did not have any resources to use. If I do this last minute bullshit, it always comes down to using an online source or sources in order to make something up that works. I admit that I fudged most of my paper this morning. I was supposed to have three journal sources cited, and instead, I found one real journal and then copied citations for the other two sources. Actually, practically all that I needed was all in that one journal, but it was still crap. I sat on my ass for five minutes listening to Pachelbel's Canon in D Minor wondering how the hell I could pull it off. The only thing I know that will save me is the fact that I already have a decent grade in the class, which means I can probably still get a D on the paper and pass with a B-. I know that I miscited some sources and did not even cite the proper information at times, which means that my chances of being caught and expelled for plagiarism only gets kicked up by a few notches.

Maybe I should have just done one of the other three possible assignments to fulfill the same requirement. Oh wait... that would mean I would not have had a chance to procrastinate. I guess that is not an option for me, being the lazy bum that I am.

Something also stops me and says that I should not be beating up myself over spilled milk. Hindsight may be 20-20, but foresight is as blind as a bat staring into floodlights. There is nothing I can really do as far as things that have already occurred except meander over them, ponder what I could have done better, and moving the fuck on into the future. Sure, I should have started working on this paper a month ago so that I could have had a chance to turn it into the teacher's assistant, got it back with suggestions on how to properly revise it in hopes of getting the best grade possible, and then turning it in today (After getting a full night of sleep) knowing that I did all I could for the best grade possible. I could have done all of that to have a much better chance at getting a good grade, but... then I could not have enjoyed the time I would have spent studying and researching. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed studying; in fact, I do not think that I ever have enjoyed studying.

Let me get some things straight. I enjoy sitting in for a lecture and listening to what the professor has to say about this and that. I enjoy recitation most of the time. I really enjoy listening to students having a chance to talk back to the professor/teacher's assistant about any topic so that they have a chance to say what is on their mind, even though I stop myself from joining in on their debates about capital punishment or Stalin's intentions during World War II. Honestly, I really do enjoy listening to other people talk, even if they are blabbing on about completely boring material. I usually find it all quite interesting to some degree. However, I hate extra-class participation such as writing papers, creating speeches, doing group projects, et cetera. Well, I sort of take that back; group projects are fun for me if I feel like I am apart of the group instead of just another person. However, that aside, I still hate the rest of it all.

As I said already, maybe I am just a lazy bum. I enjoy doing the simple things, but when complex things come about, I want to be anywhere else but there. Hell, I sat in Astronomy 0089 the whole semester (Except for recitations; there is no point to going to an extra class per week when you study for nonexistent questions on a test) listening to my professor talk in her silly German accent about theoretical crap regarding the universe. Every time someone asked her a question that was not covered in the material, her most common response was, "I don't know." She may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but I will listen to her zany theories regarding dark matter, black holes, and extraterrestrial life. However, what I hate doing (But was not subjected to doing in the class) is extra-class homework that takes longer than two hours and projects that only teach me to hate the course.

Some people call me smart, some call me intelligent, some call me asshole, but no one ever calls me good-looking (Or anything along those lines of being). My point is that although I hate putting off until tomorrow what I can do today, I will continue to do it out of sheer laziness.

Faces

2003-04-16T06:57:00.000-04:00

Demosthenes (384 BC - 322 BC)
Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true.

Just as the song from Macross Plus says, I wanna be an angel.

Human beings are imperfect, but that is only stating the obvious. I am imperfect as well, but there is almost perfection in being imperfect. From looking at things from a human perspective, we strive to be our own god, our own image of perfection. Thus, by being imperfect, we always strive for perfection. People usually are not content with their imperfect selves, so they look up to people to be their model of perfection. While the people they may want to model themselves after may be far from perfect, they often choose to ignore or overlook these parts of them in favor of more positive aspects of their personality, bodily traits, and abilities.

However, who creates this image of perfection? It is easy to point the finger at individuals, stating that the way that they look spurs people on to look like them. However, society as a whole plays a part in all of this. There is always a general acceptance and desire of what is good and appropriate. For example, females in American society seem to find a need to have large breasts, generally at least a C cup or greater. This comes from males, but what makes males want bigger breasts? Does it come from a general desire to want to return to youthful days as a baby, suckling on their mother's tit? On the other hand, is it just a random fantasy that was once disliked by society but became accepted after a while? This strive for perfection creates women such as Chelsea Charms and Wendy Whoppers who thrive upon this general desire by men to want bigger breasts. However, that is not answering the question at large: is this bigger breast phenomenon from female feelings of inadequacy or just male fantasy? I refuse to come up with an answer because I cannot begin to fathom what is behind all of it and this is not the sole purpose of this journal entry.

Denying these facts is denying who we are; denying the very culture that we were built upon. We always want to be the best at what we do, and this does not come from simple survival principles. Sure, you could make the case that people strive to be perfect in order to have the best opportunity to pass on their genes to the next generation, but this seems too simple. I cannot remember the exact quote or who said it, but it came out as something like, "To every complex question, there is an answer that is short, simple, and wrong." Basically, there is more to it than simple survival skills. Indeed, people get to the point of "perfecting their imperfection" that it is almost absurd. People who can lift hundreds of pounds of weights but cannot do a simple pull-up; people who can read 500 pages in less than an hour but cannot recall even minute details in the text; people who can be President of the United States but do not know how to operate a phone or cook for themselves. For all of their perfection, they are still heavily flawed and cannot perform basic tasks, and yet, these people will still pass on their genes. This point does blow the theory out of the water; people can still be heavily flawed and still procreate a few or many children.

I lie.

Let me expand on this point: I lie. The fact is that I lie everyday, to myself, to other people, and often times, it is done subconsciously without even actively thinking about it. However, it is also consciously thought about, but cannot be helped. Why? Because it is who I am. Do not forget that is also who we are. We want to be perfect, so we bend ourselves to be as perfect as we can be, but in the process, our lying makes us imperfect.

For example, I recently got back my second exam from my History 101 class and I got an A on it. I see just that little grade, and it makes my day; I am happy, and why should I not be? I did good work and received a good grade, right? This is where we deviate into possibilities. I could just lie to myself and keep it simple, believing that I did do a good job and I do deserve a good grade, but what if the teacher's assistant simply handed me an A because he did not feel like reading through all 200 papers in order to save on time? Indeed, the paper has only the grade circled on the final page with a "Very nice essay" compliment underneath the grade; why not make random comments here and there, pointing out good references or bad wording? Or could it just be that the teacher's assistant did not want to look bad, and so, only gave out acceptable grades (Acceptable grades, being deemed by society, as C- or above) in order to make himself look good? He already said that he was "hard-pressed to give out bad grades," so could this not mean that he just handed out grades in order to make him and the professor look better than they really are? I admit that I did not even get to read the last hundred pages of the book and, therefore, did not have the fullest grasp of the meaning of Robert Graves' "Good-Bye To All That." So really, does that mean that I still deserve an A? Just a point to ponder.

I find myself twisting who I am to look better in the eyes of others; to look more perfect. Once again, however, this act of deceiving others in order to look more perfect ends up making us less perfect. Why would someone lie in order to be perfect? Why can they not just be perfect? This is always something that has bothered me to a degree. Relating to Freud, it is a battle between society and self; superego and id; mankind and man. It is a constant tug-of-war between who we want to be and who we are.

Another example: I just want to have fun, however, society dictates certain things of me unless I want to be seen as a bum, useless, trash, et cetera. I know what I find to be fun: watching anime, making out or making love to a lovely lady, hanging out with friends of mine, and partying it up. According to Freud, these aspects are of the id, and they are ephemeral, short-lived, fleeting, and ultimately pointless; I think Freud is wrong on this part, because what we find to be short-lived we only enjoy even more for the rare moments that we do get to enjoy them. I think they are more fun because I do not get to do them all the time. However, there is the tug in the opposite direction: society's needs and desires. I may not want to major in political science at heart, but it is the one major that I am best at. Why choose to major in anything? Why even go to college? This is true, but it is also something that is dictated by society. What does one do with a political science major? I have no clue, but it brings home the bacon, and if it does not, then it is deemed useless, and useless things are usually discarded. Sure, it does seem as if slavery has evolved from the fields to the office, and we only work the jobs we hate to buy shit we do not need, but it is what is deemed by society as needed and desired.

I realize that this is all my choice, but there is another aspect that comes into all of this: basic human loneliness. We want to be individuals, but we do not want to be alone. While this may seem like a contradiction, it is not. At the basic level, everyone is lonely; whether they wish to admit this or not is up to them, but it seems to be an apparent truth to me. They band together in order to protect one another, to make sure that they survive, and to enhance themselves, but at the same time, they wish to still be individuals; to be different from the next person. This is why I usually feel it necessary to pull the "tough guy routine" with many people, but at the same time, I depict a "caring, soft routine." While my stereotyping of certain behavioral characteristics may seem out of place, many people do the exact same thing, only in many slightly varying ways. Thus, I am an individual, but I do not want to be alone, so I conform myself to be what society wants me to be.

I wanna be an angel.

One of my personal heroes is Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. He once gave an oration called "Man: The Killer Angel;" largely, I think that Chamberlain was saying that man is but an angel already, and angels are not perfect beings. However, angels are very close to perfect, but not quite pushing pass the threshold that would deem them to be "perfect." If they were perfect, they would be gods themselves, but they are not. Anyways, Dictionary.com defines angel as being "a kind and lovable person" and "one who manifests goodness, purity, and selflessness." By sticking to this basic definition, I could be an angel, but it seems so much more difficult than just that. Not in a sense that I need to look "heavenly" or "celestial," but rather, I need to exhibit these characteristics all the time, and doing all of that seems very difficult.

At least Demosthenes got it right to some degree. Mankind wishes to be something that it is not, and it will lie to itself in order to delude itself into believing that it has become what it is not. We all show our faces, but they are masks hiding something else larger, something more hidden that most people will not admit to. Our faces hide deceit and lies, and it seems that only when we can tell ourselves the truth, only then can we have a chance at finally reaching some form of perfection, as unattainable as it may be.

Priceless

2003-04-14T04:56:00.000-04:00

Kain, Co-Administrator of Anime Academy (1977 - )
registration at door: $50
your share of the hotel for 3 nights: $50
food: $30-$50
hanging out with Kain: priceless

Very easily, I can say that my first friend I ever had was my brother, Lance. However, "friendship" would be completely wrong in classifying our relationship; "brothers" seems to carry a more truthful meaning as to what we are. Calling us friends would seem like I was trivialize the fact that we came from the same parents, but at the same time, calling us brothers would seem to neglect the fact that we do not always treat each other like brothers. It is something that it is somewhere in the middle there but leaning more towards the brother side of the spectrum.

To expand further on this idea, I consider there to be a strict difference between a literal and a figurative brother. Lance and I are literally brothers; something that we cannot outrun no matter how far we run and how hard we try to, but we will always be brothers (Twin brothers, in fact). I can hate him, I can beat him, I can hug him, and I can love him; in the end, he will always be my brother, and I am glad that I will always have him.

In a figurative sense, however, I have many more brothers, but these bonds are far less stable. I can name only a few, because few of my friends ever actually step beyond the boundary of being friends to being closer to me. This only ever seems to happen through three ways: a bond developed over time, a bond developed through similarities, and both. I have seen it go both ways, but I cannot figure out which one is more stable and which one is just the "easier" way simply because of how difficult they may be. Sure, I guess you could say that developing a bond over time would be far more stable, but at the same time, the other person gets to know you, both your good and bad parts. However, the person who develops that bond through similarities is far more compatible, but lack of communication and contact has the adverse effect of gradually destroying the bond. The act of actually keeping a figurative brother is not as easy as it may seem, especially when one is separated through distances and mentality.

About six months ago, I would say that I lost two brothers, two friends who were very close to me. They did not physically die, but rather, it is more of a mental death. Jose, Tyler, and I once played Diablo 2 on U.S. East Realm of Battle.net for a solid five months, and in that time, we grew close. We shared everything together, we would back each other up if ever asked, and we would put an end to any nonsense; we were always there for each other. We always talked about everything, from mindless idiots roaming about on U.S. East to complex and in-depth conversations that could last from minutes to hours. There was nothing we could not say, there were no barriers between us, and there was a complete trust. Usually in triumvirates, I find that there is always a shifting group of two members against one, but we never pulled any kiddy bullshit like that; we were brothers, and brothers do not pit one against the other. However, one weekend in September or October of 2002, I decided to quit Diablo 2 cold turkey, and in all honesty, Jose had quit numerous times already and Tyler was quickly losing interest in dueling nine year-old children who scream remarks about how they "owned you." I quit partially because of Tyler's reason, but also because I had become sick of the politics involved with everything from items to rivals to time spent online to whatever else. Maybe there were more reasons (Other than the fact that no new patching and no ladder reset had occurred version 1.09D); I cannot remember anymore, but suffice to say, even some of my last friends on Diablo 2 have quit recently after PayPaling most if not all of their items. They, too, have also grown tired of the game, and some of them were three-year veterans, going back to the days of VyperII and Of_WOK.

Getting back to the root discussion, Jose, Tyler, and I had lost our main connection to one another. Yeah, we could talk on AIM to each other, but it just was not the same. We had lost that constant involvement with one another; on Diablo 2, we were always interacting with one another other than just talking (Although talking did take up a rather substantial portion of our time). These days, Tyler is always on AIM, and we talk to each other now and then, but we usually do not have much to say to each other. Most of the time, the conversation will drift into talking about Diablo 2 in one way or another, and we will blab on about it for a bit, but then either he or I will remind the other that we do not want to hear about the game anymore. Tyler calls it a waste of time, and although I agree with him there, I say that it was fun, and it was the fun that brought us together. However, we took the fun away by our own free will, and we lost our brotherhood. Jose, on the other hand, comes on AIM once every few weeks, if that. When he does come on, there never is any constructive conversation, but that is how Jose just is, and I enjoy that.

Our brotherhood has ended, and although I would never hesitate to help Jose or Tyler if ever asked, we have lost something. That something can be gained back, but I do not see it happening anytime soon. Both of them have sort of regressed back to being just friends, which is still nice, but it was nicer having a few more brothers.

Since my days in Diablo 2, I have been getting more and more into anime, gradually becoming immersed into the community, getting to know many people, and understanding what is going on. I am a regular at Anime Academy's Lounge, and through interacting with people, you pick up a lot of information about multiple aspects of the anime community. Quite honestly, not a day goes by where I do not learn something new about it, but I seem to be similar and different from others. Some people openly accept anime as being the best of the best, and others seem to shun it for the most part. I lie somewhere in the middle; I recognize anime for its gifts and its faults, but I do not lose sight of the fact that the nation who first created anime, Japan, is definitely not some "Heaven on Earth."

The quote up top is from the co-owner of Anime Academy. What started the conversation was the fact that I had donated $20 through PayPal, and Kain wished to thank me. Afterwards was a step I did not anticipate: he invited me to come along with him and the rest of the AA posse to Otakon 2003 for the 10th anniversary of Otakon. At first, I gave a blunt "No," but when he said what is in that quote up top, I think that was the turning point for me. Just the friendliness, cracking the joke how he did it, and the invitation kicked me from a "No" to "Pretty damn sure I will" in a matter of seconds. As he kept telling me about it and how it would all go down, I just kept getting more and more interested. The more he said, the more I kept thinking, "This is going to be a hell of a lot of fun." As far as Otakon is concerned, I do believe that I am going, but given that it is happening on August 8-10 and it is only mid-April now, a lot can happen between now and then.

As far as Kain is concerned, I think he just opened up another world for me. Something else happened (Which I am not at liberty to discuss openly), and I was "welcomed" into AA. Nothing official, mind you, but just the gesture said that I was welcomed with open arms. At first, I thought that this "welcoming" happened because I had donated to them, and I had serious thoughts about cutting off all contact with Anime Academy; if "donation = promotion" (Or something along those lines), there was no point in sticking with people who would be shallow like that. I had and have no interest in buying friends, and if it had turned out that way, I probably would have told them that "Fuck off," only in many more words. However, according to Roark's words, it was because "you have an IQ which is larger than your shoe size, unlike many other people." And... I trusted him. Just like how a friend trusts another friend. Yes, I have never met Roark or Kain in real life, and yes, perhaps I will in real life in the very near future, but I put faith and trust in those words, those electronic words that I could only read on a screen. I could not hear those words and they were not even physical, but I put faith into them, knowing that they would not lie to me.

Maybe it was just the act of them reaching out to me, stopping halfway, and waiting for me to reach out to them. As I give this idea more and more thought though, I think it is wrong. I was reaching out for someone else, not them in particular, but anyone. I reach out to others all the time, but almost never vocally. If I am ever in a physical, social environment where I do not know the people around me, I am not very inclined to reach out to them. I become introverted, afraid to speak, afraid to receive that look from everyone upon opening my mouth; I signal other people to reach out to me through my silence in these situations. However, online is different; I am almost a different person, as I reach out to others with my words, those same words that always betray me in the real world.

Kain told me that Otakon 2003 would cost me roughly $300 if I did not hit up the Dealer Room like an alcoholic in a beer store. However, I have a feeling that his last line is very true; hanging out with him and all of the other people there will be priceless.

God’s in His heaven, All’s right with the world

2003-04-09T17:40:00.000-04:00

I feel like a bit of an ass for neglecting my journal these past few weeks, although the message board was offline for quite some time, so I cannot take all of the blame. Half of this entry was written almost two months ago, so the "not too long ago" translates into "it happened a little while back." Anyways...

Perfection, by Robert Browning (1812-1889)
The year’s at the spring
And day’s at the morn
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven
All’s right with the world.

Not too long ago at Anime Academy, someone in the Lounge said "'God is in his Heaven all is right with the world', it means that God watching over the world from Heaven brings peace and calm." When it comes to religion, I always feel the need to backhand it at every chance that I can get, and this was no exception. I do not think that the person who posted that statement thought that the phrase is open to interpretation, and my response was swift to "correct" their comment.

When you take a political science course involving religion, you quickly realize just how much politics and people are affected by religion. Just recently, I found this sentence from a paper distributed in class to be particularly scary: "While there's nothing wrong with a President trying to make the world a better place, when the man in the Oval Office feels divinely inspired to reshape the world through violent means, that's a scare prospect." I admit that the paper itself is very biased (I do not know who wrote it), but it does provide another look at this "War on Terror." I am tending to agree with some of the aspects that it mentions, but other parts are unfounded. The title of the paper is "Bush's Messiah Complex."

Everyday, it feels as if more and more people are using religion to back their reasonings, and I find that without religion, these people do not have anything to back their reasonings whether they are good or bad. People use religion as an excuse to go to war and to not go to war, they use religion as an excuse as to why we must change certain parts of society, and on and on forever. Something I find particularly funny regarding Christian-based religions: the commandment stating "Thou shalt not kill." The funny part is that many people claim to kill other people in the name of "God," and yet, they violate their own code of ethics that they believe in without a thought. I am sure that if there is a God, he is quietly shaking his head and thinking, "Four simple words, and they somehow do not understand the meaning..."

In all honesty, I am a humanist. In my world, there is no god or gods, but rather, I believe in humanity simply because it is all around us and it is impossible to deny its existence. I believe in doing the greatest good possible, and I do not need silly reasons like "Because God said so" or "Because it is the Christian way." People feel that they need reasons to do good deeds; I do not need a reason to do a good deed.

Not that long ago, a woman in one of my recitations got her books knocked out of her hands and they were scattered all over the ground. The "kind" elderly "gentleman" who had knocked her books all over the place walked away as if it had not even occurred, even though I saw him with a look of surprise on his face when he saw what he had done and had walked away at a slow pace despite what he had done. I helped the woman while everyone else in my recitation walked on by, acting as if we did not exist and were trying to pick up her notes in the middle of the Cathedral's first floor hallway. I did not help her out because I wanted to get into "Heaven" or whatever; I did it because it was a good thing to do. In all honesty, the girl was cute, but I do not think that was a factor at all. I was not looking for a blow job or a girlfriend or even a "Thank you" (Actually, she did thank me when we got all of her notes together). It was a good thing to do, and I did just that. I am willing to bet that someone would have helped us if I had told the crowd that they were going to Hell if they did not help us, and even then, most of the people would have continued ignoring me or given me a "What has that guy been smoking" look.

Apathy will be the downfall of society.

Most people cannot do things out of raw emotion, or as sometimes is the case, they do the wrong things out of raw emotion. If a husband comes into his family's household and finds another man there near his wife, his first instinct may be to kill the other man. Nevermind the fact that the other man may just be a plumber and was enjoying some iced tea offered to him by the wife after fixing the family's upstair toilet because the husband believes that the other man may have fucked his wife, so it is okay to grab the nearest sharp object and proceed to commit murder out of rage (Raw emotion). That is an improper way to act on raw emotion. A poor man is sitting on the sidewalk, begging for change from bystanders and people walking on by. Another man comes out of a nearby McDonalds with a few Big Macs, fries, and a cold Sprite with a bit too much ice. The man with the Big Macs feels pity for the poor man's situation, so he hands him a Big Mac and throws in some fries as well. That is a proper way to act on emotions. Yes, the man with the Big Macs could have given the poor man some spare change that he got from the cashier at McDonalds, but if he wanted his intentions (His change) to be used to go buy food and not a bottle of vodka, then that was the best thing he could have done. Either that or take the poor man into McDonalds and told him to pick out a meal and he (The man with the Big Macs) would buy his meal.

I refuse to claim that I know how everything works. Someone pointed out to me the fact that if there is a design to the universe, there must be a designer. They conclude that, since there must be a designer, there must be a "god" of some sort. While I understand fully what they are saying and implying, it seems a bit reckless and irresponsible to go out and slap on a reasoning to something that cannot be properly explained. Sure, the universe has some method to its madness, but slapping a reason that has zero proof onto the existence or occurence of something is called misinformation. The Greeks and Romans did such things back in their day; they saw lightning or some other natural occurence, and since they could not explain why it was occuring, they made up a god for that particular occurence. I see both of these forms of logic as being very similar, and none of them accomplishing anything except filling peoples' minds (Which usually puts them at ease) with information that has a very low probability of being correct.

A few months back, I was debating with a Christian (I am not sure which sect he was apart of) about religion, and I remember him asking me, "If Jesus came down to Earth again and everyone was to bow before him, would you follow him?" I forget what my colorful response was exactly, but it could be summed up with "Hell no." The Christian then said that it would be blasphemous for me to not follow Jesus, to which I responded something like, "I would rather be free in Hell than chained in Heaven." I still feel this way. And I still feel that religion is an opiate (This comment usually offends many people), but all of this would stem from people's actual definition of what "religion" is. Dictionary.com defines religion as "belief in and reverence for a supernatural power or powers regarded as creator and governor of the universe," however, there is another definition that is not implied most of the time which is "a cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion." These two definitions have similarities, but are divided between the whether they use spiritual/supernatural reasons or not.

I bet Robert Browning would never have thought that his last two lines would end up being used as a key part in a famous anime. Either way, if there is a "God," he can stay in his "Heaven" and whack off for all I care, so long as he does not interfere with the rest of the world (Although many people would say that "God" touches everyone). If there is no "God," good; it is time that people got on with their lives instead of having a hangup like "God."

I think that Mageth's The Greatest Story accurately sums up Christianity for the most part.

The Whereabouts of Loneliness

2003-02-21T04:12:00.000-05:00

Mother Teresa (1910 - 1997)
The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved.

I can still remember my third grade year at Hershey Elementary School. It may sound sick, but everyone made fun of me for little or no reason. Maybe it is that "separating the chaff from the wheat" tactic that grade school kids unconsciously do, or maybe they just did not have anything better to do. I was a new toy, and thus, I deserved some attention, whether it was good or bad. Of course, the fact that every other kid in my Class of 2001 belonged to a family that was filthy rich may have something to do with it, but either way, these were definitely the people who molded me into who I am.

At lunchtime in third grade, I usually sat with my brother and whoever else he would make friends with in his class. However, in fourth and fifth grade, my brother was in a different scheduled lunch period than I was. In short, I had no one to sit with. Everytime I would attempt to sit with someone, they would usually pick up their lunch and move away. Everyday at lunch for two years, I would sit alone and I hated every minute of it. It seemed as if everyone else would pick on me just because I was slightly different. If I had been black, they would have just whispered comments behind my back like "Weak fucking nigger." I know for a fact that they would do that to the few people in our school that were actually black and I always found that they were just cowards who were unable to speak their minds. However, I had a stutter and I was white, so for some reason, that made it okay for everyone to pick on me to my face.

As the years passed by, I gradually learned when I should speak and when I should not. Most of the time, I did not speak, or else I would receive a certain degree of backlash from people. However, my loneliness also affected me in other ways. My self-esteem went to shit; I remember dropping all of the sports that I was involved in until high school. I conformed to however people would make fun of me; if I was wearing white socks with blue stripes on them, I had to wear just plain white socks or else I would get picked on for the stripes. If I said something that they did not agree with, instant ridicule; I remember once saying that Sean Connery is a pretty good actor, but everyone else laughed at me because they chose more "popular" actors. It was always one thing after another.

In short, they were teaching me to hate myself.

Okay, reality check: once I got into middle school, I actually started getting friends who would look beyond my stutter and listen to what I was saying. Up until then, I was pretty much on my own. Much like how Shakespeare called jealousy a green-eyed monster, I think loneliness is a brown-eyed monster, and those two still eat away at me even today. Yeah, the friends I have help to ward off those monsters a bit, but they can only help so much. I need to take the next step.

My boy Tyler's webpage, February 17, 2003
i'm so ready to settle down, like long relationship type thing. its not even about 'getting some'. i've had my some...very good times. but i want something with more substance, something deeper. i need a connection. the belief and longing for the soulmate has returned...[sigh]...and so has the pain.

I will be perfectly honest: I have never met Tyler in real life. He is a good, online friend of mine, and if there was ever anything that he needed help with, I would not hesitate to give him a hand. If there was a man with a gun who had only one bullet and Tyler and I was his target, I would not hesitate to step in front of Tyler and take that bullet for him. Maybe that is because of the lack of self-esteem portion speaking in me makes me a bit suicidal, but I think that I would do that more because he is one of the better people I have ever met in my life and he has always tried to be a good friend to me. I ask that he stop calling me and other people "fag" even though it is done in a joking manner, and Tyler never calls his friends "fag" anymore. Simple as that.

Anyways, I mention Tyler's webpage and that quote because I have pretty much the same thoughts and feelings. Okay, two slight differences between Tyler and me in that statement: I am still a virgin, and Tyler is not; my pain has always been there. However, everything else is true. I want a relationship with a woman that is deeper than just sex. I want to be able to look into her eyes and lose myself in them. I want to be able to enjoy sitting down and watching an anime with her, knowing that she enjoys it just as much as I do. I want her to enjoy sleeping in on Sunday mornings with me, smooching every once in a while, holding each other, and enjoying the silence in between talks. I want to be able to argue with her every once in a while, but always know that I still love her and that our slight differences of opinion just make us love each other more because we are opening ourselves to each other. I want to be able to take that invisible mask off my face that goes by the name of "being a man," crying like a newborn baby about everything I could never find the tears for that deserved to be cried for, telling her things that I have never told myself let alone anyone else, and have her love me even more in the end. I want to hold her in my arms while she holds me in hers and know that the loneliness in my life has finally gone away.

I just want a soulmate. A ying to my yang.

By no means do I want perfection, but I will settle for something that is just a step below perfection. I want a real woman, not one of those fake Britney Spears chicks who have zero personality. Some people search for their idea of perfection for all of their lives, but people are anything but perfect. I just want someone to love who loves me back just as much, and while I am at it, I want to share our experiences of life together until the day we die.

Lance (My brother) just celebrated his 10-month anniversary with Amy (His girlfriend) by taking her out to a restaurant for Valentine's Day, but it almost feels as if his relationship is the antithesis of what I am looking for. Even though we are twin brothers, we share very different tastes. I can describe Amy in one word: vanilla. She is just a plain flavor, nothing special about it, easy to like but hard to love. My parents say that they are just keeping their relationship going because they both want sex, but I think it is more than that, and yet it is not very deep. Lance and Amy have about nothing in common that they can share with each other. My brother loves Xbox, but Amy hates it; my brother loves screwing around on computers, but Amy dislikes using computers extensively; my brother loves going out places and trying new things, but the furthest from home Amy has ever been is 200 miles, and she is one of the pickiest eaters I have ever seen. It is one thing after another. If Amy did not have college classes or work, she would sit at home most of the time and do nothing. Literally. Her only hobby is scrap booking, and she rarely does that. She reads books, but that is about the furthest extent of everything. Yeah, they are a good couple, but Lance is cookies and cream while Amy is still vanilla.

The reason why I say that Lance's relationship with Amy is the antithesis of what I am looking for is because there really is not a whole lot of chemistry. I think of a relationship, and I think of highs and lows, being able to do simple and complex things together, being able to laugh and enjoy the same things, being able to share one with the other and being honest even if the other does not like what was shared. Many words come to mind when I think of having an intimate relationship with a woman: trust, loyal, happy, flexibility, courtesy, sharing, love, and fun.

My first school crush was a girl named Callie MacArthur. I find that the timing of my crush and my arrival in Pennsylvania at a new school seemed weird, almost a cause-effect relationship. When my classes were attacking me, I somehow looked through the crowd and found that pretty girl that helped me through school subconsciously, a "bright light at the end of the tunnel." What is even more weird is the fact that I never talked to her the from elementary to high school. The last time I saw her, she still was as pretty as ever, a very smart woman, almost a bitch but just falling short of my definition of a bitch. I knew many guys who did not like her, but I think that was because of her attitude towards people in general; it was almost as if she was just passing through life and did not want anyone else to bother her. Even if I saw Callie today, I doubt I would ask her out simply because I would lose my words and I would stutter the whole time. I also doubt that she would be my soulmate simply because she is not the kind of woman I am looking for; I just could not see Callie as being the open, caring woman that I need in my life.

I still sometimes have dreams of those kids in elementary school making fun of me, the demons that will probably chase me to my death. I know that if one of them had ever tried making fun of me in high school, I would probably receive at least a 20-year sentence for first-degree murder. No one would look upon that "quiet, kind young man" quite the same after I used a common household object to slice the kid's jugular vein open or to bash his face until is becomes mush. However, I do know that finding my soulmate would calm those demons that will always haunt me.

I am the furthest thing from a Catholic, and yet, I cannot help but agree with Mother Teresa's words. True poverty does not lie within lack of wealth, but rather a lack of love and a wealth of loneliness.

A Monster called Jealousy

2003-02-19T19:07:00.000-05:00

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Othello," Act 3 Scene 3
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.

Last semester, I remember stepping into my communications class the first day and feeling that I would be doing better this semester. However, that would not be the case, for some things never do change. As apart of this communications class, we had to give a number of speeches ranging from topic to style. I can remember the first speech we had to give: all that was required was that we speak for a minute about anything. It was a simple pass-fail introductory speech, and I am sure that everyone walked up there feeling like a goof talking about their favorite television show or their dog. I went up to talk about an excellent book that I had read over the summer...

... only to stutter.

The professor referred me to the university's Office of Disability Resources and Services, saying that I should get papers from the department stating that I had a disability, and thus, would be allowed a time extension for my speeches. I figured that I did not want a repeat of the previous semester, and that by complying with his request, I would be able to get an easy grade in the class because I would only be graded on my speech itself and not the presentation portion.

After my first appointment with the "specialist" at DRS, I realized the horrible truth: there are professional assholes in this world. Now, realize that I went in there with an open-mind, hoping that they could possibly come up with a way to help me out with my stutter. The specialist's first solution: give me pills. In my book, pills are the easy way out of everything, and they only wanted to give me the quick fix, the demon (Referring back to my previous entry). I am lucky that stuttering cannot be fixed with just a bunch of pills, or else they would have been force-feeding that garbage down my throat. The reason why I say that the specialist is a professional asshole is because as soon as they realized that they could not solve my problem with just pills, they stopped looking for any solution and just decided to give me the papers saying that I was disabled. For someone who is in a position of authority where it is their job to care about finding solutions for disabled people, I found them incredibly lacking tact and patience. Yes, I realize that there may be plenty of other students in the University with problems that are on the same level or of greater importance than mine, but DRS did not even go that extra mile to try to help me with my stutter. Talk about pathetic. I guess dogs are too hard for some people to depict.

Let me just get one thing straight: I am not disabled. Being disabled denotes inoperative, broken, incapable, et cetera. I prefer the term handicapped, since that denotes the ability to function but slightly hindered. However, I do realize that some people take offense to the term handicapped but not to disabled, despite the obvious difference in meaning. The politically correct terms are differently abled, persons with disabilities, and handicapable, but talking about it in that fashion feels unnatural, or maybe just because (In English) the last word in a phrase tends to have the greatest meaning.

Here was my final speech for the class, done in any style we pleased:

You look out into the audience before beginning. No one is paying attention. A few people are sleeping; most are imitating masses of gelatin. "Typical 9am college class," you figure. As your speech rolls off your tongue in every stuttered fragment, you feel embarrassment. You feel stupid. You wish you were anywhere else.

You feel pathetic.

You are only reminded of how much you hate yourself. Hate yourself for a stutter that was never your fault. Hate yourself for putting up with years of torment as a child. Hate yourself for not being able to be treated as everyone else is.

All the time.

Fire minutes pass. Ten minutes pass. Your speech ends shortly after the 15 minute mark; your back dripping with sweat, your mouth dry as a desert. All from nervousness, a preordained fear of public speaking. Everyone else has a 5-7 minute limit. You have a 10-14 minute limit. You stand out like a marrigold amongst roses. You even went over your own time limit.

You still hate yourself.

You walk to your seat, anxiety shaking your bones. You sit down at your seat in silence. No questions, no applause. Your shirt sticks to your back like wet paper. Your seat quickly overheats, and your pants will become moist with sweat in a matter of seconds.

It happens every time.

You stare at your desk, whether it is cleared, or still possessing your damned speech; the sides have developed a soft curl from being in your sweaty palms for seconds. You might not be in front of the class anymore, but you feel eyes of contempt piercing the back of your head. You imagine those were 9mm rounds piercing the back of your head.

If this would be the rest of your life, would you want to live it?

The next person goes up. They are done in six minutes and change. They are showered with questions, almost unable to answer all of them because of the sheer variety. All eyes on the speaker. They look like an idiot, unable to coherently answer any questions longer than 10 words.

In Japanese, they would call this person baka.

You can think of a 2-minute response, at minimum, for each question. This was not even your topic. However, there is an idiot talking, who probably has no background on anything they spoke about. You are not an idiot; you are frustrated. The person somehow gets through the barrage of questions, and go to sit down. They receive applause. Although the applause may not be for any sort of appreciation, it is a sign of recognition.

You feel left out.

The next person goes up. They rattle their speech off in perfect order, almost hitting the seven-minute mark. William Jennings Bryan would have looked like a fool next to this person. The subject is as bland as grits. You turn around to look at everyone.

All eyes on the speaker.

Your face develops a hint of red. Anger. Anger at people who have no manners. Anger at someone who got something you did not. Anger at yourself.

They make it through a downpour of questions. They go to sit down; if applause were rain, they would have received a monsoon before taking two steps.

Class is over.

People get up to leave, even though there is another five minutes of class time left. You do so as well. Another act of trying to be normal. People begin to talk to other people. You have no one to talk to.

You are not normal.

You think of a word to describe a feeling that you push deep down inside of you.

Fury.

You are a quiet person. They sometimes call you kind only because you do not speak much, or they call you kind simply out of pity. You never vocalize because you do not wish to get the same response from everyone. You are an adult now. You got that response when you were a child. People were suppose to have grown up and matured. You find that statement to be just as true as telling yourself, "I am normal." They have only become older.

Jealousy is a monster that only grows.

Before leaving the classroom, you remind yourself that you have been labeled as "disabled." It is suppose to be an excuse.

It is only a burden.

I ended up with getting a C- in the class. It is so nice to know that I get embarrassed for a semester simply for a lousy grade and good, legitimate speeches. I guess the professor was just joking when he said that he would only grade me based upon my speech itself and not my presentation. Thanks a lot Professor Hugh P. Curnutt. I am pleased to be reminded that asshole student teachers like you always make people like me feel worse. Go fuck yourself.

The truth is, nothing has changed since I was little. Okay, that is a slight exaggeration; nothing has changed since I moved to Pennsylvania. When I lived in California, everyone treated me the same way they treated each other. I was just another kid, and to be honest, I enjoyed being just another kid. No "special" treatment from people because I had a speech impediment. I was never picked on for being different, and I loved it when it was that way.

In short, when I moved to Pennsylvania, I was forced with the harsh reality that I am different. Everytime I opened up my mouth and spoke to someone, they would give me that look. That look is a bit difficult to explain. As my philosophy professor once explained to our class: in the South, feelings of racism are overt, while in the North, feelings of racism are covert. I guess that is the best way to explain that look that I would usually receive. It was usually a poorly hidden look of disapproval, that somehow I had gone against the norm, and thus, did not deserve equal treatment that everyone else did. It is disgusting how some human beings treat members of their own species.

If I said that I was not jealous of everyone who lacked a stutter, I would be lying. Yeah, I know all of that bullshit about "playing the hand you were dealt," but it is a bit hard to play your hand while you are learning the game as it is being played. Of course, everyone else goes through the same thing in life, but it seems as if they were all dealt slightly better cards. They do not have to deal with looking like an idiot everytime they open up their mouths.

Shakespeare is right: jealousy is the green-eyed monster that mocks the meat it feeds upon. I guess the green-eyed monster and I are one in the same.

The Forever War

2003-02-18T17:31:00.000-05:00

Robert Edward Lee (1807 - 1870)
It is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it.

I can remember a mere three weeks ago yelling obscenities out my fifth floor window of Bruce Hall at anti-war protesters marching down Forbes Avenue. While the snow fell lazily upon their heads, I felt almost betrayed by people for some strange reason. I may not be the biggest Bush supporter out there, but I felt that people were disrespecting the position of authority at the time, and that they were ignorant of past crimes committed by Saddam Hussein. And in some way, I felt that what the course that the United States was taking was definitely the best.

In those three weeks since that anti-war march, I began to feel more and more jaded by the position that my country was taking. Yeah, I still felt as if I should be supporting my country, but it was not taking the course of action that I wanted. I may not know all the facts, and the public at large probably never will know all of the facts behind why the Bush Administration is taking such a hardline policy towards Iraq and Saddam Hussein, but I do know one thing: going to war requires tact.

Dictionary.com's definition of tact is "acute sensitivity to what is proper and appropriate in dealing with others, including the ability to speak or act without offending." Like the boyfriend who slaps his girlfriend because she says "No" to consenting to sex, the Bush Administration is going too far when dealing with something of this magnitude. The same thing happened during the Vietnam War; the public kept saying that they did not their country to be involved in a war that was not theirs. Back then, the United States was fighting against the spread of communism; today, the United States is fighting against "rogue" and terrorist states.

As sick as it sounds, but this situation feels like it would be the downfall of the United States. When members of NATO and the United Nations Security Council decide that the United States, one of their staunchest allies in the past, has gone too far and that we need to be stopped, they will not go to war. Going to war against an enemy is probably one of the worst things you could do, because that allows others to take pity upon you and that also allows you to rebuild whatever was destroyed to the point that it can be the most advanced of its kind in the world. The same thing happened after World War II; the United States steel industry went sour and died out because Chinese steel was far cheaper and easier to manufacture. Rather than go to war, the nations of the world will turn their backs on the Unites States, and even though we would never do the same to them, they would do just that to protest the rights and wrongs that we have done in the past and present. When other nations turn their backs on the United States, longtime friendships come apart at the seams and others are strengthened, but it is only together that we will be able to go forward in the best way. I do not know who will be the next king of the hill, but I have a strong feeling that if we pursue on the course that we are currently taking, we will fall from that "precious" position of "most powerful nation in the world."

I realize that Saddam Hussein has killed hundreds of thousands of civilians in the past, but that is exactly when it all happened: in the past. By no means am I saying that we should automatically forgive him for what he has done, but rather, we should take a look at ourselves and realize what we were once doing. The United States' sheets sure are not clean. From the start of the thirteen British colonies to today, the United States has not stopped committing crimes against its own citizens and perceived "foreigners." The demise of Native American culture from the 1600s through the 1800s by use of genocide and relocation; the enslavement and extermination of now African-Americans from the early days of the colonies until the post-American Civil War days; the "moral reducing" bombings of World War II against Dresden, Berlin, Hamburg, Tokyo, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and many other cities; the use of concentration camps against Japanese-American citizens during World War II. The United States has to come to grips with the legacy of blood that it is built upon; we are also guilty of past acts that would be called crimes against humanity, but do not forget that many other nations also have committed their fair share of crimes against humanity: Japan, China, Cambodia, Russia, France, and Germany just to name a few.

There is always a Western double standard that is used in the world and even in the United States, where "we" are allowed to do this but "they" cannot also do this. Racial profiling is a great example in the United States, a classic example of where only "they" can do this and so they must be blamed for something. Nevermind the fact that they may not have done anything to anyone because "they" do those things. It makes little sense to me, just like sexism. Even not very long ago, it was enacted that all male Muslim (U.S. translation: Arabic) emigrants to the United States were to be specifically checked out, kept under close watch, and entered into a database for future reference. Forget the fact that being Muslim is not dependent upon skin color; there are plenty of Catholic Arabics in the Middle East, but they are Muslim in the eyes of the United States government. This racial profiling of male Arabics is just based upon stereotypes, and I would not be surprised if all male Arabics were rounded up (Similar to the Japanese-Americans of World War II) and thrown into concentration camps "for the good of the nation." I wonder, but where does the checks and balances of Congress go when Bush decides to go to war. In some sick fashion, this nation was running away from the King of England about 225 years ago, and we eventually create our own king even though that was not the intention of the founding fathers of this country.

In the ancient Chinese philosophical treatise Han Feizi, the emperor asked a painter, "What are the hardest and easiest things to depict?" The artist replied, "Dogs and horses are difficult, demons and goblins are easy." By that, he meant that simple, unobtrusive things in our immediate environment--like dogs and horses--are hard to get right, while anyone can draw an eye-catching monster. War is a demon, not in any horrific sense, but rather that it is a quick fix to a rather complicated problem that does not solve anything in the long-term. The world needs to come to grips with itself and decide on how to make a dog and then go about doing it, whether it will take one year or a hundred years. Dogs are much more difficult to get right than demons, but dogs are much better than demons.

Sometime in the future, I will probably write another entry in this online journal regarding the outcome of this crisis facing the world. If the United States and the United Nations succeed in creating a dog to fix the outcome of Iraq, I guess Bush will have a much higher chance of re-election, and the United States may not fall from its perch ever so high. If the demon of war comes though, I am afraid of what may happen, for things may never be able to go back to what they were afterwards.

Although Robert E. Lee did not have to deal with nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons of mass destruction, he knew the costs that war brings with it.

Chronicles of a College Guy

2003-02-17T01:16:00.000-05:00

Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)
The difference between truth and fiction is: fiction has to make sense.

I got a call from Steve on Friday night, and he tells me to come on over to his place at Bouquet for the usual "party" (I say "party" because I consider parties to have loud music, dancing, and not just alcohol). I guess it would be more appropriate to just call it hanging out. Anyways, he calls me about 8PM, and after screwing around on the computer for a while, I got a shower and I go to head on over to Steve's place about 9PM.

I get into Steve's place to find the usual people plus a few extras. Steve hands me a mixed drink that no one had drank yet (Pretty tasty pineapple mix), and I get to talking to people who are hanging out. A few people are playing beer pong, so I watch that game and wait for a chance to join in. Steve was carrying his team (Which consisted of Andy and Steve), but they still lost because Andy cannot hold his liquor at all. Give him a few beers and he is gone for the rest of the night. Two guys I did not know were in the next game, so I was still stuck on the sidelines.

It was about this time that I find out that they had started drinking at 5PM. The Pabst and Labatt Blue that they had bought were pretty much gone by the time I had arrived, but I did manage to grab a Labatt before they all disappeared. I will admit that Pabst never has tasted very good at all, but Labatt made Pabst taste like rhino piss. It was not hard to beat down the competition, but Labatt is definitely some quality stuff. Basically, I was not going to be getting a chance at playing any beer pong that night.

Despite the fact that I had arrived a bit late to get even a buzz, a few people had been there for quite a while, and from those few, Dave and Lindsey had had enough to get drunk (Okay, more Dave than Lindsey). I nursed my Labatt for a while, chatting with people and watching the last game of beer pong get rocked by JD and his partner (I still forget the guy's name, even though I have seen him more than a dozen times). About 10:30PM, three girls came over, and I had never seen them before. Aileen, Julia, and Hailey seemed pretty nice and all, but no one really knew them. Chris was chatting it up with Aileen and Julia for a bit, but nothing serious (I am guessing that he is looking for a new girlfriend).

About a dozen of us were just chilling out, talking it up, and Julia suddenly runs off to the bathroom. Aileen apparently knew what was going on, because she followed Julia closely behind. They come back about ten minutes later, and it is obvious that Julia had been crying. I later learned that she had been crying because she saw Dave giving Lindsey all of the attention. Now, I will be up front and say that I do not know how to identify guys as attractive simply because I am not attracted to guys in any intimate way, and thus, I do not have particular features that I am looking for to define my own meaning of an "attractive guy," but from what I gather, Dave attracts the ladies.

The story is that, sometime during the previous weekend, Dave had gone to a party and had found Julia there completely plastered like it was her job. Sometime during their brief contact with each other, they messed around (Dave's words, so I do not know nor do I want to know the specifics) and Julia got it in her head that they had something going when that was not the case at all. It was a fling, but I guess Julia had never done anything like that (I was once in the same situation before, and I understand Julia’s plight to an extent). She expected a relationship, but was shown the reality of the situation when she saw the way that Dave and Lindsey had been acting towards each other.

Later on that night about 1AM, Steve went off to bed, Koop went out to see what was going on with Brooke (His quasi-girlfriend), Chris and Andy had gone home, Lindsey had left because of her official boyfriend, and I was left in Dave's room to just chill out some more. Whoever else had been there had already left, and the party was pretty much dead. I was watching some of David Chapelle's new show on Dave's computer while Dave was lying on his bed, and Dave asks me, "Eric, what should I do with these girls?" His question was so far off my perception of who Dave is that it definitely altered my perspective of him forever. Dave was not the kind of guy that asked other people for advice involving women.

I already said before that Lindsey had an official boyfriend, and Dave is sort of her unofficial boyfriend. Basically, Dave is in love with Lindsey, Lindsey's boyfriend is in love with Lindsey, and Lindsey herself is in love with both Dave and her boyfriend. This creates quite a difficult situation. In monogamous cultures such as the majority of the United States, we are taught to love one and only one person in an intimate way. However, I have trust in that both Dave and Lindsey are telling the truth and are simply not leading each other on.

Dave so desperately wants Lindsey to love him and only him, because she is the first woman in his life where he can be himself around her and not alter who he is. She sees Dave for himself, and not some altered "bettered" image of Dave, and I can truly respect that. However, even though she thinks of Dave whenever she is with her real boyfriend, she does not want to break up with her boyfriend. It is an awkward situation for both of them. Probably the one piece of information that made it much easier as to why she should just break up with her boyfriend is that she had only been going out with him for a few months longer than she had known Dave, and the simple fact that her boyfriend has absolutely nothing going for him.

I forget how Dave explained it, but it was something along the lines of how he keeps reaching for her, but he can only get so close and never any closer. I re-explained it to Dave in another fashion by relating it to those old Looney Tunes. In some episodes, there would be a character that would get a stick stuck to their back or head, it would hang over top their head, and there would be a piece of bait out in front of their head so that they would constantly run around trying to get it. The problem with this is that the harder the cartoon character runs, the bait is always right there to keep on running away from him as fast as he is running towards it. In essence, nothing is accomplished except that the character is exhausted from chasing something that he can never have, that is, unless they wise up and go about solving the problem in a different fashion other than being straightforward about it.

At the same time, Dave has two other women who are chasing him: Arleen and Julia. I already explained Julia's problem, but Arleen is entirely different. She is easily one of the hottest women on the entire campus at Pitt; however, she suffers from lack of self-esteem. No matter how many times you tell her that she is smart, beautiful, clever, could make a million dollars selling dirty water, or whatever, she will always think that she is not good enough. She thinks that Dave's rejection of her is because she is not good enough for him, and so, she gets depressed about situations very easily. My hypothesis: her parents did not hug her enough as a child, her parents hugged her too much as a child, or her parents beat her as a child. That may be oversimplifying things, but the general gist is formed: she is one screwed up cookie.

Dave wants Lindsey but does not want two other girls. I even told Dave myself, "Heh, I am jealous of your situation, but I am also happy that I am not in your shoes." I am jealous of the fact that I would probably enjoy having women chase after me, and then I could pick which one I wanted (I guess it is that whole American "shopping" mentality). However, I would not want to be in Dave's shoes because he has to make decisions that are going to affect people's lives and emotions, for better or for worse.

I think Dave and I talked for at least a good hour until we had down everything that needed to be accomplished: he needed to get rid of Arleen and Julia, and he needed to find a way to get Lindsey to become his real girlfriend so that they could stop messing around behind her boyfriend's back. Maybe they will find a compromise somewhere along the lines, or Dave will just be forced to live the rest of his life knowing that he could have had the perfect ying to his yang. I hope it is not the latter. Maybe the problem is more than just what it seems, a "what is not said is more important than what is said" situation. Whatever it is, a problem like this cannot keep going on.

I doubt that even Mark Twain could ever write such a story similar to Dave's situation; people would not believe it for a second, unless they knew it was real. Reality suffers from the standpoint that it does not have to make sense, only that reality continues onward without hesitation.

I still need a girlfriend.