So, you think you know me.

My wife, Regina, has been witness to an interesting phenomenon that has been happening to me for quite some time. No matter where I go people of all ages and walks of life seem to think that they know me from somewhere. My wife half jokingly chalks it up to the idea that on some cosmic level everyone does know me and we all essentially know each other. You're probably thinking that the cosmos has nothing to do with it because we've all had cases of mistaken identity. Except that this happens to me all the time.

Here's a short list of scenarios.

1. Waiting for my tires to be repaired a fellow patron starts asking me how my brothers doing. I assume he knows my brother Josh, but it's a completely different person we're discussing.

2. In a waiting area for a school I applied to work at, a teacher comes up to me and is sure he knows me from some where.

3. A woman conducting a continuing education seminar approaches me after she's done and wonders if we've met before.

4. At an ice cream shop a man approaches my wife and me and asks if I attended Fullerton high school.

5. Waiting for some sushi in the South Bay a woman in medical scrubs stops reading the LA Weekly and is convinced she knows me from somewhere.

Either I have a really bad memory or I just have a universal look. If it's the latter, I hope all my doppelgangers are keeping their noses clean because I would hate to be mistaken for anyone on a wanted and/or hit list.

I'll leave you with one more scenario that was different from all the rest.

Scene: Early morning Glendale, Ca. A juice place at a big mall. A disheveled young man enters the store. He does not seem homeless but he does seem a little off kilter. It looks like he might of had too good of a time the night before. He's making odd sounds and making odd requests of the juice store workers. He notices my presence and turns around and stares. His gestures are forced and strained. He continues to stare at me and attempts a cordial head nod. He then starts to do a whimsical cowboy gun slinging and shooting motion towards me. I play along and pretend like I've been hit and laugh it off. My wife and sister-in-law walk in and notice that there's been some sort of exchange, they assume I' m talking to someone that I know. We walk out with our juices towards our destination. Behind us I hear yelling and the young man is running towards me. He slows as he gets closer and his intentions are unclear as the distant stare begins again. He then begins to nervously speak.

Disheveled young man: Do I know you from somewhere?

Eric: Maybe. Maybe not. I have a universal look I guess. You might have seen me at a concert or something.

Disheveled young man: Yeah, yeah maybe.

Eric: What's your name man?

Disheveled young man: I can't remember my name. I don't know what my name is.

Eric: Don't worry you'll remember it. You'll be okay.

Disheveled young man: Yeah.

His lip is quivering. I look directly into his frightened eyes for a moment that feels light an eternity and hope that he will be all right. He seems satisfied by this this gesture and walks away.

Blogging as Meditation

I'm sitting here typing on a laptop, wondering what to commit to digital print for anyone that would care to read these little bits. I realize that there is much to discuss. I am struck however at how even with something as limitless as a blog I find my mind is quiet. Is this writers block? Is it first blog entry jitters? Am I just tired? No this seems a little different than any of those things. This feels a bit like meditating. My mind is emptying now and all there is now are my fingers and some clicking keys. It's not a bad thing, it's just a little zen like that's all. We'll get to some really juicy tidbits later but for now let's just enjoy the sounds of crickets, traffic in the distance and the smell of fall in the air.