15 hours. That's how much time I have left to live my adolescent life. Then I get tossed out on the curb of real life, and manhood. At least, hopefully.

Everyone says their mission was the best two years of their life. I hope it will be that for me, but beyond that, I hope it will continue on even after my two years is done and I take the tag off. At this point I have high hopes and dreams, but all of that can change in a matter of moments. 

What I do know for certain, though, is that I have been given a specific list of things to do, rules to follow, and that by doing them, I will be successful, even if success comes in little more than a one man band conversion, wrapped in a paper bag. Who knows, though? There could be big things in store for me way over yonder on the other side of the world. That is, if my plane doesn't crash somewhere in the Atlantic. But I don't have to worry about that for nine weeks, so I best just do that, and not worry.

And with that short message, I'll close out this short letter to no one but myself, and leave it up to my mom to keep the page up to date. We'll see ;)