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Ladies and gentleman, I imagine there’s a day, a moment, where every man realizes his own place in the world. I am a man blessed by an extraordinary network of amazing family that do not share my blood. They are without a doubt the reason for my blind hope and faith; to this breath I would not substitute them for anything. Last night I experienced perhaps the best thing in my 25 years of living; overwhelming failure. I am a man who has been blessed and perhaps cursed with a plethora of Irish luck. I have stumbled my way through 25 years of living and those closest to me will tell you and probably genuinely believe that I’ve never worked hard for anything. To some I was one of the filthiest pitchers to take a mound for the first 19 years of my life; granted I was passionate about the game I loved; but I gave up on it, possibly even myself, at this point there’s hardly a difference. I knew baseball would not be limit of my reach. I was right; but it again hardly changes a thing. School was always kind of something I had to do while I was busy living the life of a kid who was born to write about it. I double majored in Communications and Philosophy, and while I loved both, it would be an accurate accusation to suggest I only committed myself for a two week period of each during the time of which my senior thesis was due. I once had a 7th grade teacher demand more of me; she knew what I was capable of and was bluntly aware of the person that apparently I am; I appreciate her honesty, but it hasn’t changed much at all. I am not an egotistical person; rather, I am self aware. For the first time in my life I took on a venture for myself; that is not to suggest I was without great help, because I most certainly was blessed by the amazingly kind and difficult efforts of the people that I now call co-workers and more significantly family. But I failed, with flying colors. I had a hotel room for an after party that existed without a “party” in the first place. And that’s alright. Perhaps it take’s a failure for a man to open his eyes and breathe in the possibility of the world. I lost a significant amount of money last night and the funny thing is that’s the most distant detail of the problem at hand. I am the problem; I have always been the problem. The funniest thing, I’ve always known. I am blessed with the best friends in the world. The hardest thing about being the problem is having those best friends tell you how much they love you, and that you’ve done such a good job. I love them for every breath they give, yet I do not give myself the credit of their praise. I am happy that I put on a great fuckin show last night; it is not the first time that I said I’d rather be the man who put on a great show, with no audience, than the man who put on a shitty show for a magnificent audience. The man with the shitty show dies; I am not that man, and I take pleasure in that. This is my humility; perhaps I will learn to work harder for the things I take for granted, perhaps not. I am both blessed and cursed with my passion, but I have no problem enduring the suffering it takes to share the light within the mix with the world. There will always be a fine line between madness and love. I know will conquer the world, every sea I set sail on, but can I conquer myself? That is the million dollar question, or perhaps the $18 dollar for half gallon of Sobiesky Vodka question; again; what’s the difference? I am a man of great passion and hope. I wake today without question that I am in this world of music, entertainment, and boogie. My peers are great evidence of such. There is without a doubt light at the end of this tunnel; it’s simply a case of choosing to endure. Can you be the man that leads without believing? Can you absolve yourself of letting almost everything you’ve ever cared about blow away with the wind? These are without a doubt significant questions; and today I am a man willing to persist until their answers are not found but justified.