I hate people that say men and women can’t be friends. Those people are most likely sexist and idiots. The story of the daughter of the famous golfer is a complicated one. So complicated in fact that she’s not the daughter of a famous golfer. Maybe the story isn’t complicated at all, I’m just making it a convoluted mess because that’s what I’m apt to do. I do find it a bit strange that meeting people from the interwebs is so normal in this fine year of 2016 and maybe I say that because I did the same thing about 10 years ago with a random guy from a video game forum and then labeled him my fake cousin. Which I only bring up because I think there were quite a few TV shows and movies directly about how that was the worst possible thing a person could do and at best you’d at the very least get abducted. To be fair, I can think of no actual movies or tv shows that were about meeting strangers on the internet but I’m pretty sure it was frowned upon and now is the primary way people meet new people. Does me meeting Cousin John really apply to JDD? No. No, it doesn’t. Except I gotta follow the blogging process and that means writing things as they come, not refining it for maximum satisfaction and clarity. When I was in Chicago two years ago, I used those dating apps like any other person in their 20s even though I knew I was just visiting and also knowing I would soon be going abroad as well. Maybe I wanted to consider myself a soldier going off to war and create a relationship with someone that could send me love letters while I took down the Nazis. Or maybe I just had a lot of free time because both the people I was staying with worked and I was by myself a lot of the time. The moral of that story is I didn’t find a wife. Nor did I appear to find a wife during this trip to Chicago either but I still have a few hours till my plane potentially lifts off so there’s time. This blog isn’t about romance though, or this specific post. I know I’ve written about past loves and what not, and now it’s time to talk about another love. The love of friendship. One that has its own ups and downs just like any relationship, one that has tears and laughs, and one that has two other things that would sound good combined with one another. Bridget is a rare case. Oh who is Bridget? Bridget is the aforementioned JDD, a nickname I’ve had in my phone for so long that I sometimes do forget her name is Bridget and get confused why someone named their daughter John. Not that there is anything wrong with naming your daughter John or Jim Bob. The story of Hank and Bridget is a simple one though. We matched together on an app in Chicago as aforementioned, we never met up while I was in Chicago, I went abroad, we kept in contact, I met a girl from Spain in Ireland, randomly created a group chat to include said Spanish girl with other random friends and put Bridget in it as well, Bridget ended up meeting Spanish girl (Effy) in Ireland before she’d even met me, I came to Chicago again over two years later and finally met her. I’d say that’s your typical friendship of the 2010s right? Actually upon my interviews with other millennials I learned that it’s quite atypical to “meet” someone and then talk to them for over two years without ever actually “meeting” them. You could’ve fooled me. And meet we did and now we’re still friends. Cool story huh? No, no, no, I can’t end here. I devoted the first 200 words to stuff that had nothing to do with the Bridget relationship anyway, okay, I will dive even deeper. I don’t believe in soul mates and probably a big reason for my lack of belief is that the world is so huge and populated that the possibility of finding your one true love would be so infinitesimal that it would be futile and utterly depressing. Even if Jack and Rose from Titanic managed to do so but then he died anyway so screw that. I do think that certain people are placed in your life for specific reasons though. It could be something as simple as someone putting a smile on your face when you’re having a bad day, or something as complex as a girl from Chicago that seems opposite from you in about every way that becomes a lifelong source of positivity and inspiration. In our time knowing one another, we’ve had friendship fights, sometimes not speaking for months at a time. I say we because I want it appear that we were both at equal parts to blame for said fights. Instead they were typically always my fault, and happened because I took something I thought was funny and just kept going and going and it just ended up cruel and mean. Wait, what? This isn’t the point of the post though, she knows we’ve had fights, she knows I’m sorry and no one else needs to know that happened. Moving on. I was more just trying to say that I think all relationships of any sort have their trials and tribulations and it’s how you work through them and if you can work through them that will strengthen your bond for the future. Or they hate you and you never hear from them again. I must say that Bridget must truly have a very kind heart to put up with some of my crap throughout the ages and I’ll forever be grateful for that. I don’t wish to get too sappy because I’ve written sappy before, and as I watched Bridget’s sister walk away from the table as she gave an impromptu speech over the impact I’ve had on her life, I’d rather not suffer the same fate. It’s just a hard relationship to quantify. Friendship seems like too basic of a word but more than friends seems to imply a romantic element and it’s not that. It’s like the bond between a brother and a sister, who also are creatively charged individuals and can tap into the other to either recharger their own batteries or to overclock themselves. We started a book club and though I have three books from it, I only ever completely read the first. The memoir by Patti Smith, primarily about her time in the Chelsea Hotel and her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe. A book that apparently so many young creative types harken to as inspiration that it almost seems cliche. Except hey guess what? A lot of people talk about how the Bible changed their lives and I don’t see them getting as much grief about it. The fact that I never read the next books in the book club due to our friendship fight is a bit of a downer, though I’m always up to restarting the club, but the impact the book had on us was still monumental. Even if neither of us are the starving artists living in a hovel and writing plays while we chain smoke cigarettes and sneakily drink leftover wine, we still felt a connection to the characters. A deep connection. And I like to think it’s because we saw ourselves in them. Just two people brought together in extraordinary circumstances and sure in their situation one became an artist in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the other became a famous photographer. I feel I’m probably closer to one of those paths than she is at the current moment and that’s okay. I guess just after the grief we’ve both thrown at each other throughout the years that I would prefer some documentation to show I’ve said or at least thought nice things in my life. I just want Bridget to know that I feel my life story has improved since she’s been a character in it and I obviously know the same has happened to her. I jokingly have referred to myself as her hero countless times, her best friend, her mentor, a father figure, any figure that sounds good, a god, etc. And though I probably am all those things to her, I just want her to know that she’s made such a positive impact in my life, that she gets the creative juices flowing, that she is a constant ray of sunshine even when my clouds go gray, and she even cracks the occasional funny remark. There is something to say about supportive people in your life, and then there’s something about people who are specifically so supportive about certain endeavors. Actually no, that isn’t fair to Bridget. Just because I do consider her a person that has helped to actually keep me going down creative roads, I can safely that she has always been there for any issue. That originally I might have considered her with a person that was so optimistic it was annoying but then I later realized that it’s good to have those people in your life provided they’re actually genuine and I can safely say she’s one of the most genuine people I know. As people have entered the room of where I’m writing I feel like I’ve kind of lost my train of thought and I might be repeating myself over and over because I have a strict no editing policy. I just wanted to say that I’m thankful that I finally got a chance to meet a dear friend in person and I hope to meet her again. I think we have a wonderful and weird relationship and that we are destined to create something together. Not entirely sure in her expertise regarding musicals, but maybe we’ll collaborate and write the next great American novels. I just want to know Bridget is loved and that I consider her an important part of my life, a vital part of my life, a dear dear friend, a person that I look up to, a person that makes me strive to go better, and for the second time, a person that has made me laugh at least once in my life just not yet entirely on the comedy rival level. Also glad to have a story of me meeting a person for the first time and getting matching tattoos to honor our weird bond and people we’ve never met. I knew this blog post would be a convoluted mess because that’s what Bridget and I are We’re an unquantifiable partnership, we’re cosmic companions, we’re [insert words here that apply]. At the very least, I hope Bridget can read this and appreciate it. I also hope she can restart the book club and we’re open to new members as well. Bridget, you’re a good woman, you’re a good person, and I’m excited for the day where I get invited to your wedding and get put in the wedding party somehow. Until then, we gotta think of something to change the culture of America and the world for the better. Bridget, know that I’ve now been watching two grown men fight and break tables and plates for the last twenty minutes and it’s made me working on a conclusion a bit difficult. Regardless, know you’re a special person and like I said, I think we were put in each other’s lives for a reason and that was to both improve the other. If you ever need a more concise version, just ask and I’ll try my best at a round two. So it goes.

Disclaimer: This is an extra credit essay I wrote for one of my Social Work classes about how the current political climate could affect political policies primarily in regards to social welfare sixty years into the future and how I might tell my grandchildren of how it used to be and then was changed. For what it’s worth the teacher said, “I love this!”

“Children, come around and let me tell you a story. A tale of the times of old, back when we used to respect our government, back before we had King Dictator Trump in his 17th consecutive term. Let me tell you of my time of being a boy in his mid-twenties back in college pretending to blend in with all the teenagers surrounding him. A time when your old Grandpa thought he would see the first woman president in this history of this country, even if she did have her flaws. This was a time when your old grandpa could roam around the world free, and wasn’t confined in this cage where I’m only allowed out for Thanksgiving dinner once a year for my libelous words towards Emperor Trump. I know kids that you don’t know any different. That you think it’s completely normal to recite the new Pledge every morning, that your schools are entirely segregated by a myriad of factors, that Hail Trump is just normal pejorative in your mouths. But let me tell you, let me tell you of the good old days when we had things like Planned Parenthood that helped women back before all the women were sent underground and the men in suits reign above. There were programs to help people with injuries before the mass deportations of the immigrants and the disabled that we have now. Back then we were only in the beginning of a militarized police state; however, it was nothing at all close to the watch towers on every block and the constant presence of automatic weapons that are wagged at your face if you stare too long. Children, I want you to remember this because your own grandfather here dealt with his own mental illnesses back when there were medications and therapies to treat you compared to the alligator filled swamps that those afflicted with disease are thrown. To be fair, we couldn’t just eat a pill and it completely fill our tummies while also giving the flavors of an entire turkey dinner so you have that going for you. My dear grandsons, I implore you to join the resistance. I know you are young children, but your damn sisters are living in enslavement down below the earth. There is a man you must find. His name is Bernie Sanders the Fifth. He is spearheading the start of a resistance movement, he is starting to create actual negotiations with the Duke of the Robots. There is hope for the first time in our lives. I am old and decrepit, but there is a chance for you to experience a better future. It’s only 2076, maybe it’s time for a female leader after all. Maybe it’s time for anything different, just know it’s time for a change. Run children, listen to your grandfather, there isn’t much time. Hopefully when I’m released from my cage in another three hundred sixty -five days from now, I’ll get to see sunlight for the first time in years. Oh, who am I kidding? Even if the resistance succeeds we wouldn’t have fixed all the pollution issues by then. Regardless children, do this for me. Do this for grandpa, let us make America great again!” So it goes.

I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. I was a little upset, I might have had a bit too much of what was supposed to be victory wine, and I said some things I didn’t mean. Last night, hell, the entire election cycle we saw hate from both sides, completely enveloping us. We saw a country that tore itself up over two candidates that no one really liked. We didn’t see people reaching out to those with differing opinions, we saw people getting into tighter knit groups with those who shared their exact ideologies. I’ll admit that I myself did this, I preached tolerance while alienating myself away from those who disagreed with me. Last night on social media I wrote stupid things, I wrote a blog post just full of profane language and disgust. I can’t help how I felt in the moment. Then today I woke up and I felt defeated, I felt broken down, and I opened up my Facebook and I saw that all around me as well. Sure, I could revel in the sadness that’s being shared and go woe is me for the country. I thought about doing that, I planned on doing that and then I realized that that gets nothing done. We have made our bed and we must lay in it. However, that doesn’t mean we should just give up. America has shown that we want change, to shake up the status quo. Could there have problem better a person to enact that that wasn’t an orange buffoon? Of course there could’ve. That doesn’t matter though because what’s done is done. Just this election cycle we saw millions of youth voters support the most Socialist candidate we’ve had in decades. We saw the Republican party almost implode by having a candidate out of left field steamroll the competition. If people wanted change, they got change. It might not be the change that we wanted, but again, what’s done is done. What we have to focus on now is continuing to enact the change we do want. The Democratic party is going to be a completely new beast after all the talks of corruption within the DNC itself, the Republicans are going to have to figure out a way to survive while their leader is someone that may or may not even support their ideals. It’s easy to get down in the dumps and feel that things don’t matter and things will never change when bad things happen, yet look at what happened. A man that’s never held any form of political office or been in the military was just elected president. A woman got further in the presidential election than a woman ever has before. We just had a black president for eight years! People can mourn these results, people can celebrate these results, I just think we as people need to not let this divide us. Because the further we divide as a country, the worse we’re going to become. There are midterm elections in two years, there’s a new presidential election in four. This isn’t the end of the world, we can still shape the world, and I think it’ll be shaped a helluva lot nicer if we work together to do so. Americans are already great, we don’t need to make it happen, we just need to remember who we are and that at the end of the day we’re all people sharing this country together. To be honest though, I am pretty excited for Kanye West to be our next president in 2020. So it goes.

You fucked up. You really fucked up. You helped elect a bigot, a sexist, a xenophobe, a racist, and a piece of shit. You helped elect a man that cost himself over 900 millions of dollars in bankruptcy and it wasn’t his first. You elected a man who’s second in command thought gay conversion therapy was the answer to homosexuals. You elected a man who got a record turnout from rural voters who finally had a politician that they could stand behind and support their white power ideals. The country elected a man who has no idea how to run a country, who has no involvement in politics in any significant manner, and who is known more for his economic failures than successes. Instead we have a man who’s known for insulting women, for insulting minorities, for insulting those with disabilities. Is that what we want for our country? I can understand the “American voter” wanting a change in our political system, even though for the most part we’ve been on an upward incline. Of course it makes sense to elect a man who’s never given any specific plan on how to change anything in America at all. A man who the majority thinks ran for political office with no real plans for actual policy. A man who offered a more moderate Republican Josh Kasich the most powerful Vice Presidency on the candidate because he has no fucking clue how to run the country.  I’m not excited for the next few years. I think we’ll literally set America back years. I’m glad I’m pursuing a major where Social Services are the main part of our funding and we’ll have a President who will maker sure to cut those services. I’m glad instead we’ll have a President who tries to cut taxes for the rich and instead screws over the lower classes even more. All I can hope is that this shitty Presidency leads to people coming out in droves for the 2018 and 2020 elections. It’s sad that we have to have such an idiot to inspire us but maybe it’ll work. If it does, then so be it. Instead we’ll have a Republican controlled Congress and Presidency led by a mad man so we’ll see where the country goes. I can’t imagine it goes anywhere positive, I truly do feel that we’ll look upon this years later as quite the blemish on America’s history. So it goes.

I know there’s a mental health awareness month. I’m pretty sure it was last month, but who cares? I mean obviously October is spooky awareness month except months can encompass two things. Just like black history shouldn’t be celebrated only one month of the year, just like breast cancer shouldn’t be made aware for a single month, nor should mental illness. Am I writing this for any specific reason? No, not really. It’s more something I wanted to say for a while. Does my voice really care any weight? Does it affect anything? No, can’t say it really does that either. Except hell, everything I’ve written doesn’t carry any weight but I write it regardless probably for my own sanity. I think one thing that just really made me want to at least write something was after reading an article yesterday about cops killing a homeless man who apparently was riddled with mental illness. Which led the cops to riddle him with bullets. After they ran him over with their police car. After they missed running him over and then the cop specifically said “I want to hit him,” and proceeded to run him over. I’m not trying to make some political statement about cops though. I’m more just making a statement that a homeless man that was affected by mental illness was murdered because his own mental issues seemed to give off a threatening demeanor. It’s just like, damn man, prisons are the leading mental health treatment centers? That’s not even the point I’m trying to make either. I don’t even have a point per say, it’s just more I just wish the issue would evaporate into thin air. I’m just tired of the shit man. Recently, I’ve had a friend devastated by a family loss, I’ve had another friend end up in a hospital, and lord knows all the other incidents that are occurring that I don’t even know about. I dealt with depression in such a way that I proceeded to fail college classes, where I myself dealt with thoughts of how everything would better if I wasn’t around anymore, where I found myself unable to get out of bed for days on end. And what are the solutions? Hope you have good medical insurance so you can both have your own medication prescribed and maybe some help in the 100$+ therapy sessions that you so desperately need. Of course before you do all that, you have to admit your issues to somebody, anybody even though you’re completely ashamed of yourself and you’re embarrassed to even admit you have a problem because society has stigmatized mental illness as such a terrible thing to have. So what is this post even supposed to do? Maybe it inspires one of the four people who read this to admit to someone that they have an issue, maybe it helps someone realize that they aren’t alone in what they’re going through. A big thing for me was that I always thought my depression was so stupid. That it was caused by a break up? It was like how melodramatic can you get. Except that moment resulted in me sitting on a kitchen floor during a house party in my junior year of college saying “I wish someone would murder me. Then I’d be dead and my parents wouldn’t feel any guilt. Everyone wins.” That this point can point out that no matter how trivial you view a matter, it can be big, it can be all encompassing, it can ruin your life, it can destroy your personality, and thus even destroy your relationships with other people. I’ve gone through moments in my life where I knew that I was harming my friendships, my relationships, and I didn’t care because I couldn’t care. I couldn’t care about anything. Is it cathartic to write things like that out? Sure it is. Mainly because I was in a real hellish version of reality, and it’s not like depression is a curable disease. It’s not like mental illnesses of any sort are completely curable. They’re manageable, they’re recoverable, and yet they’re still always on the back of one’s mind. Not entirely sure how I went from commenting on police brutality to dealing with my own mental health issues. It’s just not fun. It’s especially not fun that so many people have to deal with this, and so many people have it treated like a joke. “Oh, you’re sad? Go hit the gym, go hang out with a friend, that’ll cure everything!” Except for your inability to do any of those things because of the inability for you to function in life. It’s just sad that however we came to exist, they made or science or whatever made it so that our stupid brain could get screwed up by stupid small burdens in life and morph into all consuming despair. Screw you brain. More importantly though, screw anyone that doesn’t consider mental illness a legitimate illness. Screw anyone that think it’s just a phase. Screw anyone that thinks it’s something you just get over in time. Screw you for not supporting more legislation to make mental illness a political priority. And for anyone that is dealing with mental illness of any sort; please talk to someone. Please talk to anyone! Talk to a stranger, talk to your friends, talk to your family, talk to a therapist. Get help, don’t beat around the bush because thinking you can fix yourself is an attitude that I think plenty of us have and plenty of us are confident we can do it and then there are plenty of us who realize months later that all we did was make things worse. I’m not writing this as a cry to help for me. I find myself in a pretty good situation right now and I couldn’t be more happy to be in that position. This is a more a call to action for those who are afflicted with these ailments. Society might stigmatize it, people might make light of it, but like I’ve already said that doesn’t change the fact that they are horrible diseases to deal with and that there is nothing to be ashamed of. Help is out there, people close to you, people even you barely know or don’t know at all want to help you. I want to help you random person who may stumble upon this blog haphazardly. These things are just shitty things that no one should have to go through alone, and so many of us feel we are. That’s just not how it works though, not all people are heartless assholes and people do care about you, care about us, no matter if we don’t. I just want everyone to feel good, I just want everyone to be happy. It’s a lot to ask for, it’s an impossible ideal, I just wish it could work out that way. Do I end it here? I feel all I’m going to do is repeat myself more and more if I keep trying to add words. So it goes…

I would be remiss if I didn’t factor in one of the most influential and amazing people involved in my growth from 25 to 26, miss Julianna Pauline Fenner. A girl crazy enough to think I was an interesting personality and to think I was worth cultivating a relationship with even though we lived in separate states. We’ve had our ups and downs and I can safely say that 99% of my the downs were due to my own faults and flaws, but I can never thank her so much for how much she impacted my life in just 2016 alone. The future of our own intertwining paths is murky, and I think that’s safe to assume when you’re trying to make things work with a 550 mile barrier between the two of you. However, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s always been there for me, she’s always been an inspiration for me, and she helped me in times of need and she helped better myself where I could say those moments were rarer and rarer. At the very least, I just want to have this on record so that no matter what happens in the future, she can know I thought this of her and she can know how grateful I’ve been for her love and support in the best and worst of times. She’s a beautiful creature, a beautiful human, and when on the rare times I felt myself slipping back into a darkness she was a light that guided me back. Like I said, to write a whole post about a year in my life and not include her is a travesty because she was truly the best thing to happen to me in this past year. I mean, excelling in school is cool and all but I can’t compare academia to a living, breathing person. She’s great, she’s wonderful, I can only hope that I impacted her life in a small sliver for the better to repay her for all the goodness she imbued into my life. No matter where the future directs me,us , I’ll always have love and special place for her in my heart. Thank you. So it goes.

It’s around two months and four days since I had my twenty sixth birthday and I planned on writing this blog post. I could say that things came up and maybe they even did, but I can’t say enough came up where I couldn’t spare twenty minutes or so to write a post. The only reason I wanted to write a post in the first place was just to see what happened in a year time since I ended up turning 25 in northern Africa, in the heart of Arabia, during Ramadan. When I turned 26, I went to an Applebee’s. At least I was able to eat before sunset, gotta try and look at the bright side of life. The thing is, has that much changed in the past year that I haven’t already chronicled? I returned home a changed man, or at the very least a man that had the desire to complete an education for once. We all know that I ended up back at Alabama and here I still reside. I do believe I posted a post about how great of a super genius I was in my first semester back and how I did the best I ever had in college. Then I went through the entirety of summer school and managed to get straight A’s in that regard as well. I wouldn’t say that anything entirely monumental occurred in the time between 25 and 26 but maybe that’s a good thing. I think it would be pretty hard to surpass being in Africa for the pivotal birthday of the 20s. And who am I kidding? Being back in school and pursuing that at a major university after years of being away from it is pretty monumental in and of itself. Plus, it’s not like I just returned to Alabama and completely shit the bed like I did in Alabama round 2 cerca 2012. Yeah, screw you inner self that’s saying that isn’t monumental. Maybe in the sense of mentioning being in Africa and going to the Sahara Desert and all of that stuff will sound more impressive and it sure makes you sound like a cooler dude except in the long run what’s happening in the year of 26 is probably going to be what I reap the most rewards from. Also realizing that while I was in the shower and thinking about what I would write for this that I didn’t utilize anything I was planning. Look at me now: a boy with multiple candles and a yoga mat! A boy that sits in his classes and is always thankful that we never get randomly asked our ages as I hear a girl say “You guys are so young, I’m ancient here at just turning 25.” I sit in class thankful for an older lady in one class so I can know I’m not the oldest one there even though she seems to have remarkable movement speeds that makes me consider she might have been an Olympic speed walker in a past life. I sit in a closet and type this out and realize how pale my skin is below my neck and wonder will I ever grow more than 9 chest hairs. Not entirely sure what I’m trying to say with the rest of these words that continue to exit my brain onto the page, I think I’m just starting to feel the urges to rant and ramble along because I realized that it’s been so long until I did. Is there anything you want to know? Yes, it is much harder to make friends in college when you’re not a very outgoing person in your mid twenties and you live off campus and you don’t even know if you know the youth’s lingo. Yes, the desire to eat healthily each and every night is one that is found rarely in most humans (I’d like to assume) and forcing yourself to do is quite a challenge. Yes, sometimes I think what if I had a hedgehog and are there spines actually sharp as well or does that apply only to the porcupines. I want to say I’ll write more posts, I just know I’ve said that before and it’s been over two months since I last did. I know that a peek into my life isn’t a very interesting affair to just about anyone but it does give me some pleasure to just put words onto the electronic page. Could I type more? Yeah, I probably could. I go into these with a set idea or topic typically and by the end I feel I’ve diverted my attention so far from it that I don’t even know where I am and yet I can’t seem to stop myself. Except I’m going to stop myself now. Mainly because I have to pee really bad and I don’t want to go into my pants. Because then I’d have to write another blog post about the peeing myself experience and I’d be sitting in my stale urine while doing so. That’s disgusting and no one wants that and I’m not hardcore enough to purposefully go in my pants in order to entertain one person and disgust the few others who even will read this. I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’m going to make some food, you readers, or you reader, let’s not assume there are hundreds, or tens, or more than 5, you do fun stuff and enjoyable stuff and you tell me all about it. Because I’m just a guy that’s trying to get by and make something of himself. Oh crap, I’m so close to 1000 words but that darn need to pee is just too strong. I’m sorry. Maybe next time. So it goes.

I enjoy reading. I enjoy reading a lot. I also enjoy writing. Hey ho (don’t sue me Lumineers), I’m going to redundantly repeat myself and say I enjoy writing a lot as well. Though I read a lot more than I write but I don’t need your judgment anyway random stranger who might have stumbled across this because it was on the back of the newspaper you used to shroud yourself with for warmth as you reluctantly slept on the ground in a snowstorm because the alcohol told you it was okay to do. What the hell? Who’s trying to distract me from the point I’m trying to make? Is it my George from the future? He’s not famous yet, he doesn’t have power yet! As anyone that knows me knows, I have aspirations to have 9 children. Eight of which are named Hank and the final child is named George. Hopefully my betrothed is okay with this arrangement because it’s going to be a lot of work on her part. At points in my life, I’ve spoken of bringing back plantation living for myself and enlisting my own children into a system of indentured servitude and that’s when I realize that Alabama mayhap controlled my mind for a hot minute. Rest assured that is not in the cards, yet it has always been in the cards to make George the runt of the litter. Regardless of his actual size. Regardless of any of his actual abilities. There is no precedent for this, I have no rhyme of reason, I just think it would be funny. Which is probably a horrible reason to raise a child poorly because the mistreatment would amuse you. Though I digress, me talking about my future with nine children, who regardless of their sex would be named Hank and the one George, is not why I wrote this. I wrote this to express my screw you sentiment towards another George. George Saunders. An author that I very much enjoy. An author that I very much enjoy so much that I just finished reading one of his books and I thought to myself “Why even try?” Because there are times when I read books and I think “I can do that,” which is most likely just extremely egotistical of myself and nowhere near the truth. There is no evidence that I could write 300 pages of consistent quality regarding anything, hell, there’s no evidence I could write five. Even the most talentless hacks have to have some talents because when posed against so much competition, you have to do something that sets you apart. Still, I could surpass them if I tried. Just don’t ask how, don’t ask when I will, and don’t expect me to write 300 pages of beautiful prose or even half-decent drivel. Just screw you George Saunders. Screw you for writing books and stories and essays that boggle my mind. It’s not just him, there have been other authors that just are incomprehensible how they have such a mastery of the English language and how they can pour it across a page but I only bring up ol’ Georgie because I just finished him. I just finished a book that included a story that tapped directly into how my mind works, that taps directly into how I think about my surroundings, and that was phrased better than I could ever muster up in my entire life. In just ten pages I went through the entire gamut of emotions and then was begging and hoping for a positive outcome at the end. Except for that it ended. So no, George, I don’t say screw you for only that, for leaving me at a loss. Screw you George for realizing that I can’t be the best. Though to be fair, I know in these blogs I’ve always said “I don’t aspire to be the best, I just like writing things and I just like having people that enjoy reading them.” Well screw you George for even making me second guess that! When all I want to say is “You like me? Well read some damn George Saunders then and stop caring about me, because shit man, he’s great.” What did you do again? You worked at like an oil plant until your mid thirties or something. You worked in hard sciences and rocks and oil and the most boring things I can imagine and then decided “Oh, I’ll just write something and be amazing at it.” Didn’t you just write because you needed some extra money to actually support your family? I don’t even understand it, you just decided one day, “I guess I can put the pen to the paper and maybe something can happen.” I had to travel the world and drink excessively in foreign countries to give myself countless mood swings about my greatnesses and failures before I could even muster the courage to write something online of which maybe 7 people read. So screw you George Saunders for constantly creating amazing creations and inspiring me to do better because of it. Screw you for making me post this random blog when I didn’t think I had anything to say. Screw you for making me want to write about how you suck and instead I included a random 300 words about my hypothetical future home life. Screw you for thinking that maybe I’m not better than everyone out there and I need to keep writing and keep improving and keep mastering the craft because if I don’t then I’ll never even compare to some heroes like you. And uh, if you ever want to hang out sometime, screw you for making me pay for all the drinks because I’m mid twenties college student and you’re a person that is a college professor or something and I shouldn’t be required to pay for your stupid Moscow Mules because you shouldn’t be drinking anyways because don’t you have a kid or two or something and would your wife really like you partying all night with a guy that just posted something about telling you to screw off and like I gotta spend money on like healthy green foods and I can’t just go out to the bar and eat chicken wings and drink pitchers of beer because look we’re almost to a period of sports dead air because all the cool sports are going to be done with and no, I do not want to watch baseball with you but like sure, I’d watch a single game except I’m going to hate it and yeah, I’ll throw in some money but seriously, you gotta fork over the bill because like screw you man. So it goes.

As I sit here wondering when the proper time to wake up tomorrow morning, I realize that I sure didn’t live up to my earlier promise to keep blogging like I used to. Which might not matter to some, okay let’s be real, it’s something that doesn’t matter to most and then I start to wonder will that play out just the exact same if I make the promise in this post to blog more? Which leads me to wondering why the hell am I writing about how much I’m going to blog when I’m trying to write a long overdue post about my first semester back at Alabama in four years because I sure as shit didn’t write anything at all about it during the semester. And that I’m only writing this right now because I start summer school tomorrow morning and I know that if I start a new semester of school, how the heck am I going to remember to comment on the last semester. I don’t even know what I want to write about for the last semester! I think a big reason why I don’t know what to write about is because I’ve literally talked out loud to a few people about what I would write. Except by talking about it out loud it seems less and less pertinent to put it out into the written word. However, one could say that I have millions of fans and that if I don’t put it out for them then it’s not fair and you’re right. Whoever you are that is saying I have millions of fans is right and I like you. You’re probably me in the future who wants to inform me of all my success. Thanks future Hank, you’re a real doll.

You could be wondering whatever in the world does that number up top mean. Oh, are you talking about my GPA*? (*My GPA exclusively for Spring 2016, if I was to share my actual GPA, well it would receive much less enthusiasm.) Who would have thought that my highest GPA in my collegiate history, and probably my high school history and probably my entire history would be now. Would be now with me being four years removed from Alabama and my last semester here happening to result in me not doing so hot. Or with me failing an entire semester. The first person who would have thought I’d do this well is not me. I don’t think it’s anyone, unless that anyone is a liar then maybe it’s you. I was skeptical about coming back to Alabama, which I think makes sense both when you failed your last time here and when you’re entering after a string of rejection letters. I know I covered some of these things in a post about coming back to Alabama, or at least I think I did. Just color me surprised. I do think I’m intelligent, I do think I can be a hard worker when the time calls for it, and I do think I can succeed when I actually put in a real effort. I just wasn’t actually sure I could pull that off for an entire semester. I’ve had issues living alone before, in that sometimes I turn into a reclusive hermit who subsisted off of alcohol and fast food, and I’ve just had issues in Alabama. My last time being here for an extended period led to a rush of dark feelings returning to me and taking me back to a very depressed state. All in all, I was nervous when I returned. That should be obvious based off what I just said though. I wanted to do well, I thought I could do well, but that’s about the extent of what I thought I could do. I didn’t think I could do the best I’d ever done. Yes, I realize I wasn’t taking the hardest classes out there, that I was taking some freshman classes, and yet I took classes with 200s and 300s too! I don’t even care if they were a class for freshman kids, freshman Hank didn’t get all As. Sophomore Hank didn’t get all As. Junior Hank never did. This guy did though, this who knows what grade I’m in Hank got all As for the first time in his college career. Okay, okay, that’s a lie. 4 A+s and an A-. I think that’s close enough to all As, that minus isn’t there in my heart. I just know that I am proud of myself. Which I need to be, which I should be. I came back to Alabama hoping I could graduate by the end of 2017 with a degree. After one semester, that is entirely possible and that is the goal I am working towards. A goal that I have a much more renewed sense of confidence in because I know I can do well, and now I know I can actually excel. I may have doubted myself before and I think had good reason behind those doubts. Now though, I am gonna try my best to put those doubts behind myself. Because future Hank told me I have millions of fans in the future so I must be doing something right. To be fair though, I guess I do have to keep this blog more updated to start amassing my legion of Hank somethings. I think possibly I did name people who were my diehard fans in a blog post long ago but I’ve since forgotten it. That’s a shame. Either way, I’m excited to start summer school tomorrow. As excited as one can get to take a class called “Old Age”. It has another title but it’s really just about old people. Oh and biology, I’m taking that again for the second time. Hopefully that goes better this time around. I’m just an intellectual now, what can I say? Take it or leave it, I’m a genius. Future Hank confirmed it. So it goes.