Wanta ready my journal? I won't tell myself you did.

"I had the pen already to go. I had her write it on my ticket stub. I made sure I didn't lose it all night. I kept checking my wallet to make sure it was still in there. I don't know if I thought it was going to disappear or what. I had her phone number. I couldn't take any chances. I was so happy. I didn't even care about the game. I had a date with..."

Some of you might guess the above excerpt is from the night I met my fiancee Genie. It's not. Don't tell her. Not until my book sells enough copies to afford the flowers.

The date above was Friday, October 27, 2000 and that entry was taken from one of my journals. I was a senior at St. Cloud State, working a part time job at the Target Center as an usher, and trying to find my way in life. But mostly I was trying to find my way with the right someone.

I have been on more dates than Hollywood. It's what it took to find my soulmate.
There were a lot of dates that had me ready to reserve the church.
There were a lot of dates that I knew were over before we spoke.
And the dates/relationships always ended with me writing about it in my journal. (Don't you call it a diary. I am a man, and they are my journals.)

I wrote to God but mostly to myself. My heart cut open and holding the pen to the paper for the past sixteen years. This journey to my wedding day seemed like it would come a lot sooner, and it seemed like it would never come.

I often told my friends I went to college not for an education, but to find a wife. They would laugh, but I was mostly serious.

"Why do I write? Sometimes even I'm not sure. To put a piece of me somewhere, maybe? Maybe so I can write a book someday. Maybe to just let my inner self out. I have so much love inside my heart. So much emotion. My emotion comes from my mom. She is the best. I can cry and let my feelings out. Maybe I'm a weird guy. I don't think so. Different. Unique. Those guys I work with...I am not even remotely close to being like them in any way. I'm happy for that. I want so much out of life. All they care about is beer, getting drunk, talking dirty , and bitching. I'm not like that."

Monday, October 26, 1998 was the date above. It was a brief job experience that made me go back and finish college. I took a semester off, but couldn't get back fast enough. My best friend/Grandma found that job for me. I think she secretly knew it would send me back to finish college.

I wrote with so much emotion in those journals that I can almost see some of the tears still on the pages or hear the anger embedded in the ink.

"God, please help her get better. I love her so much. Please watch over her throughout the night. Send a special angel to be by her side. I can't let go of her yet. Please let her be O.K. If you need another angel, God, take me instead. I love you, Grandma. See ya tomorrow."

Later, the same year as that back to school inspiring job, on Wednesday, November 17th one of my two best friends went for an ambulance ride that changed my outlook on life forever.

I am going to put all this together in a book. I have sixteen years of journals that tell a great love story. The love story of four: my family, baseball, searching for my soulmate, and faith.

It will be written differently than other books. I think you all will enjoy it. Plus, it's kinda fun reading straight from someone's diary. I mean journal.