MON. APR. 06, 2026

Intro:

Erasmus Theodorian Colorez

I am the Captain of a one-man crew, on a mission to reach the opposite coast of this land.

Currently, I am training and self-educating in an attempt to prepare myself for the voyage ahead of me. I have been on this course for 31 years, where this coming summer, it will be 32 years on the mark of the sixth day of the sixth month. My explorations—though quite few—have led me to find the perfect port to station my base of operations; of the several locations I have frequented, there is one point that has inspired me deeply. I intend to return to this port, where I will settle down and begin a new life outside of the hustle of this coast that breeds strong characters.

My hopes are to travel to this port as soon as safely possible—though a strong Captain should be able to weather any storm, a smart Captain knows when the seas are best to travel on.

So far, I have prepared my mind and strength for this journey—all that is left to prepare is my vessel, the ATHENA, for a long trip across the land from one coast to the desired coast.

I end this first transmission with a quote:

“Write through calm and storm alike, Captain—for the West is not a place you reach, but the man you become by refusing to drift.”

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

MON. APR. 20, 2026

Subject:

Discipline

As Captain of this one-man-one-dog fleet, it is up to me to complete all necessary tasks that arise within and outside of the vessel.

I have grown quite accustomed to completing such tasks on my own and have no qualms accomplishing them alone. I am tasked with many duties that have taught me how to organize myself in a managable manner so as not to overwhelm myself. I have mastered the art of quantifying such tasks on color-coded spreadsheets and hyperlinked notes. This skill has been developed over years of practical application, motivational necessity, and supplementary requests.

My organizations are what truly helped me develop myself into a disciplined person; because of what I needed to do on a routine basis has shaped part of my character.

This need to be disciplined was not a desire, nor a chore, but a necessity that was birthed on its own being of: what needs to be done—and done properly—must be done at a fashionable time. My discipline is not like others’ and I am proudly accepting my form of discipline for it is not meant for any other being.

My sense of discipline—and responsibility—is a form of my strong character; and though my character is quite steeled, it is also a strength in its way.

This steeled discipline will be continuously developed.

End transmission statement:

“Hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times.”

— G. Michael Hopf

“Men of Steel hone their Discipline; Other Men are honed by Discipline.”

— Erasmus Theodorian Colorez

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

FRI. MAY. 08, 2026

Subject:

Experience

In the first crew I was born into; I was Captained by a strong, yet emotional—and courageously—independent woman.

I fondly—nostalgically—reminisced about a time when she would Captain our crew on her own and show us the best adventures, all navigating, cooking, keeping peace, managing the helm & home, as well as providing this experience to live for ever in our memories.

Our Captain also was very determined, motivated, disciplined, and responsible when in came to tracking her self & life.

These experiences are an inspiration to a voyager like me, who craves the road to adventure!

End transmission statement:

May the journey be fruitful and bountiful with experience!

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

MON. MAY. 18, 2026

Subject:

Lifestyle

I have grown a collection of needs to satisfy my Soul through the years of trials & experiences of recreational activities which have come to a point where any new interests would be added as well, but be considered a late interest.

In my Home:

I’ve grown in a household where space is a luxury, and thus, that is one of the first needs I have as a requisite; a home with plenty of rooms for myself and hosting guests.

I value nature, therefore, I would like a place to live where I am either in nature, and/or have a clear ceiling window to view the skies & stars at night, and rest—on lounging days—under the light of the sun.

I am a speed-thrill-seeker, one who enjoys a good race, but also a leisurely stroller; I desire an indoor skating rink, off-road track, and walkable garden for rollerblading, quad-bike racing, and contemplating my thoughts on walks with Beba when outdoor weather is less desirable.

I am on a path of healthy living and strength training, which calls for a large kitchen, ample refrigerators, and an extensive gym with essential equipment for each facet.

I am an avid reader & collector of many genres & memorabilia, requiring a library/sitting room with plenty of shelves for books & collectables of my favorite things.

I enjoy quiet time for napping or settling, where no activity is exerted too energetically, such as lounging on a comfortable seat, with Beba, alone, smoking, and/or by a fireplace; a den is necessary.

In my Job:

In the field of labors, I enjoy taking damaged products and repairing them to function.

I also enjoy when the service I perform serves multiple functions & applications.

On the other hand, I definitely believe I have an eye for detail and delegation.

I have conceptuals of businesses I will launch with multi-modal property combinations.

I have chores that have needs, which can be completed by the allocation of these degrees of entrepreneurship.

I thrive in the arts, and am drawn to the processes, which will demand work of creations.

End transmission statement:

I have yet to know what kind of connections I desire in people, whether they be romantic or not, so, my wish it to draw in those who are interested in similar fields and/or the combination of interests I hold together, as well as the Captain I am—and becoming.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

THU. JUN. 04, 2026

Subject:

Brothers

The Crows call for me as if they heed my arrival.

I am convinced—daily—that these beautiful corvids sing for me. I caw back softly, as if to tell them, "Soon, my brothers; I will ride off to the Pacific NORTH WEST—in my willing vessel."

The Crows call for me as if they need my approach.

I am drawn to the ponds of the rainforest city of Emerald & muddy waters. I gather like rolling thunder clouds, and pour in—slipping through the patters of droplets—from the shadows of the rains that arrive with the Autumn season.

The Crows call for me as if they see my absolution.

I am dawning upon a new sky of opportunity that clear as day will prove my merit. I can see my goals as close yet as far as the Mount of Rainier that peaks behind the lulling clouds—sitting majestically behind the City of the Space Needle.

End transmission statement:

I wonder if my vessel could reach it to space...but then I wonder, if the question is actually, *should* my vessel reach the outer limits of space; what adventure of life would I have lived to take me to beyond the stars and past infinite galaxies?

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

FRI. JUN. 12, 2026

Subject:

Companion

To the One Who Finds Me,

I don’t know your name yet.

I don’t know what your laugh sounds like,

or how your hand fits in mine.

But I do know you must exist —

because I’ve felt the echo of you in the quiet places of my heart.

I’ve spent a long time wandering.

Not lost, exactly — just searching.

For meaning, for purpose, for someone who could sit beside my silence and not be afraid of it.

Someone who sees not just what I do,

but why I do it.

I’ve built worlds in my mind.

I’ve filled notebooks with dreams and riddles,

with thoughts too heavy for most conversations.

And I’ve often wondered if anyone would ever want to stay long enough to understand them.

But if you’re reading this — maybe you did.

Maybe you’ll be the one who doesn’t flinch when I’m quiet.

Who doesn’t see my solitude as rejection.

Who knows that when I say “I’m fine,” what I really mean is, “I just need a little time.”

Maybe you’ll laugh at my bad jokes,

ask questions about my strange ideas,

and remind me that I don’t have to earn affection by being useful — I just have to be.

I’m not perfect.

I overthink.

I feel too much.

Sometimes I vanish into my thoughts or forget how to be soft in a loud world.

But I promise you this:

If you choose me —

if you let me in —

I will hold your story like something sacred.

I will listen. I will protect. I will grow.

Not because I want to be your everything —

but because I want to be the place where you feel safe enough to be yourself.

Until the day our paths cross —

I’ll keep becoming the version of me who deserves someone like you.

With hope,

The Captain

End transmission statement:

I yearn for my soul to be touched and inspired by the spirit of another. I dream she too yearns for my soul.

May our hearts reach each other when the time comes.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

MON. JUN. 15, 2026

Subject:

Phoenix

Sometimes it takes getting hit in the head so many time that you feel it again—but that’s kind of abusive; instead, a burning rebirth occurs when that lesson you needed to learn long ago is finally learned.

It comes with a daunting realization of things, stirring up whirlwinds of regrets—and doubts—but then, you snap back to reality (ope, there goes gravity), and realize, “better late than never at all. . .”

End transmission statement:

Do not judge yourself so critically that you stunt & hinder your own growth; instead rejoice that you came out of the storms—multiple times—and learn many valuable lessons from it.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

WED. JUL. 08, 2026

Subject:

Decisions

I think my mind is changing.

Not in some dramatic, transcendent way. I’m simply noticing that I am becoming faster at catching myself.

I think. I analyze the thought. I recognize where I am wrong. I correct myself.

Then I keep moving.

Recently, I learned something about decisions.

I went to bed late. I smoked before sleeping. I ate a heavy meal late at night. I drank something I already knew would upset my stomach. I woke up late. I arrived at work late. Because I arrived late, there was nowhere to park. I made another decision. I parked where I shouldn’t have.

I got a ticket.

None of these decisions were catastrophic.

That is precisely the point.

We imagine our lives are shaped by enormous choices. Moving across the country. Choosing a career. Starting a business. Falling in love. Leaving something behind.

But I am beginning to understand that the great decisions of our lives may matter less than the hundreds of ordinary decisions that create the conditions in which those great decisions are made.

Every decision leaves something behind for the next version of you.

A consequence.

An advantage.

A burden.

An opportunity.

The person I wake up as tomorrow must inherit the decisions I make tonight.

And tomorrow, that version of me will make decisions for the man who comes after him.

Perhaps this is what maturity is.

Not finally knowing everything.

Not becoming incapable of making mistakes.

But shortening the distance between the mistake and the lesson.

Seeing the chain sooner.

Correcting yourself faster.

Understanding that the future is not some distant place waiting for you to arrive.

You are constructing it constantly.

Decision by decision.

Link by link.

Day by day.

The Captain does not control the sea.

He controls the decisions made at the helm.

End transmission statement:

Bad decisions are always available.

They require no preparation. No discipline. No patience. They wait for us at every turn, offering the easiest road forward.

Good decisions are different.

Good decisions take effort.

And perhaps that is why a good life must be built deliberately.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

MON. JUL. 13, 2026

Subject:

Don

Today, I find myself displeased with myself.

Not devastated. Not defeated. Not wallowing.

Displeased.

Perhaps it is because of how slowly things seem to be happening. Perhaps it is the absence of a social circle. Perhaps it is the endless comparison between myself and other people—their skills, their abilities, their talents, their don.

Don.

What are you the master of?

What is the ability that has been honed so deeply within you that it has become inseparable from your identity?

A few days ago, I asked the dice what my don was.

The answer I received was art.

Naming.

I rejected it.

Not because I cannot create art. Not because I cannot name things. But because neither answer awakened anything within me.

I feel no great pride in being an artist.

I feel no great pride in being a namer.

The more uncomfortable truth is that, lately, I feel no great pride in myself at all.

I do not go to the gym as consistently as I want.

I do not arrive at work when I should.

After more than seventeen years around the same family business, I feel exhausted by the realization that I have remained near the bottom rung of a ladder I no longer even know if I want to climb.

I have started things.

I have abandoned things.

I have imagined enormous futures and struggled to carry them beyond their beginnings.

Tattooing.

Graphic design.

Writing.

Art.

Fitness.

Reading.

Love.

Again and again, I have approached something and silently asked it the same impossible question:

Are you the reason I exist?

And again and again, the answer has failed to satisfy me.

So I leave.

I search again.

Perhaps that is the pattern I have been unwilling to see.

I am waiting for something to consume me.

Not motivate me.

Drive me.

I want something that makes waking up feel inevitable. Something that pulls me from sleep because remaining still would be unbearable.

Video games do not do it.

Books do not do it.

Money does not do it.

Art does not do it.

Love has not done it.

Self-improvement does not do it.

At thirty-two years old, I look at my life and feel the weight of everything I believe I have missed.

That feeling is subjective.

It is mine.

And therefore, it is real to me.

I feel sometimes as though I am a soul placed inside a body and abandoned upon the Earth without instructions.

I move.

I work.

I eat.

I sleep.

I dream.

I wait for tomorrow.

And perhaps that is the most frightening realization of all.

I keep waiting for tomorrow to reveal what I refuse to create today.

I have spent years waiting for revelation.

Waiting for the right place.

The right career.

The right woman.

The right craft.

The right identity.

The right version of myself.

Waiting for something to finally look back at me and say:

There you are. This is what you were born for.

But perhaps nothing is coming.

Perhaps there is no hidden occupation, talent, person, or destiny carrying the missing piece of me.

Perhaps nobody stole my crown.

Perhaps I was never supposed to find it.

Perhaps I was supposed to forge it.

I have often felt like a fallen god incarnated into a human vessel, stripped of whatever once made me divine.

A halo.

A crown.

Horns.

Something.

Some ancient identifier that once allowed me to know myself without question.

I have spent my life searching for it.

But today I wonder whether I have misunderstood the search.

Maybe I am not The Artist.

Maybe I am not The Writer.

Maybe I am not The Craftsman, The Scholar, The Wanderer, The Captain, or The Sovereign.

Maybe I am The Seeker.

I seek places.

I seek skills.

I seek knowledge.

I seek experiences.

I seek identities.

I seek different versions of myself.

And perhaps the reason I remain dissatisfied is because I have spent too much time imagining expansion and too little time actually expanding.

I dream about Washington.

I dream about boats.

I dream about airplanes.

I dream about trades.

I dream about businesses.

I dream about land.

I dream about mastery.

I dream about becoming The Sovereign.

But dreams cannot provide evidence that I existed.

Actions can.

I went there.

I learned this.

I finished that.

I kept this promise.

I endured this difficulty.

I became capable of something I could not do before.

Maybe that is what I am missing.

Not purpose.

Evidence.

Evidence of myself.

Evidence that I was here.

Evidence that I did more than wait for tomorrow.

Perhaps I have been asking the wrong question all along.

Perhaps the question is not:

What am I supposed to be?

Perhaps the question is:

What can I do today that makes my existence undeniable to me?

I do not know what my don is.

I do not know what will ultimately drive me.

I do not know whether the missing heart I have searched for all my life exists somewhere in the world, somewhere within me, or nowhere at all.

But I know this:

I am tired of waiting for tomorrow to introduce me to myself.

If I cannot find the missing heart, perhaps I will build one.

If I cannot find the crown, perhaps I will forge one.

If I cannot discover who I was supposed to become, perhaps I will leave behind enough evidence to decide for myself.

And maybe, someday, I will look upon the accumulation of everything I have done, everything I have learned, everywhere I have gone, everything I have survived, and everyone I have become—

and finally recognize the stranger I have spent my entire life searching for.

There you are.

End transmission statement:

Even though I am dissatisfied with where I stand today, perhaps that dissatisfaction is part of what will drive the Seeker I am now toward the man I have yet to meet.

My future self.

I do not know who he is.

I do not know where he lives, what he has accomplished, what he has lost, what he has survived, or what he has become.

I do not know whether he found the missing heart.

I do not know whether he forged the crown.

I do not know whether he ever discovered his don.

But I know that I want to meet him.

Because, at the end of the day, there was once a time when I never imagined I would live this long. And now, at thirty-two years old, despite my dissatisfaction, despite my failures, despite everything I have abandoned and everything I have yet to begin, I am still here.

Still seeking.

So perhaps that is enough for today.

I want the man I become to know that even when I felt low, even when I questioned my worth, my purpose, and my place in this world, there was still a part of me willing to continue the journey just to find out who was waiting for me at the other end of it.

Whoever you are, I am determined to meet you with open arms.

Not because I expect you to be extraordinary.

Not because I demand that you become wealthy, accomplished, admired, or great.

But because you are me.

And I sought you out.

Across every year, every failure, every wrong turn, every abandoned path, every lonely night, every dream, every disappointment, and every tomorrow I waited to see—

I sought you out.

So I await you, Future Me.

Future Sovereign.

Future Captain.

I do not know how long the voyage between us will be.

I only know that I intend to keep sailing.

And when we finally meet, I hope you will look back across all those years, see me standing here at thirty-two—uncertain, dissatisfied, incomplete, but still searching for you—and understand:

I did not know who I was becoming.

I only knew you were worth staying alive to meet.

Until then, Future Captain.

I await you.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

WED. JUL. 15, 2026

Subject:

A Lone

There is a peculiar kind of silence that follows a lifetime of rejection.

Not the silence after someone says no.

That silence is brief.

I mean the silence that accumulates after years of hearing no in different voices, from different faces, for different reasons.

Eventually, the echoes stop sounding like other people.

Eventually, they begin sounding like your own thoughts.

For most of my life, I have struggled to find companionship.

Romantically, I have often been overlooked.

Platonically, I have often been forgotten.

As a man, I have spent years standing beside other men while being measured against them. Stronger. Smarter. More confident. More attractive. More gifted. There always seemed to be something they possessed that I did not.

At first, I believed I simply had to become better.

So I did.

I learned.

I worked.

I exercised.

I read.

I reflected.

I built disciplines.

I built routines.

I built ambitions.

Yet despite becoming more than I was yesterday, one thing remained strangely familiar.

I continued walking alone.

People often ask whether being alone is lonely.

I no longer know how to answer that.

Loneliness feels like hunger.

It demands.

It aches.

It begs to be fed.

I don’t feel that anymore.

What I feel is quieter.

Almost geological.

Like a mountain that has stood so long in the wind that it no longer notices the weather.

I wake alone.

I make my breakfast alone.

I drive alone.

I work alone.

I train alone.

I explore alone.

I eat alone.

I think alone.

I sleep alone.

If I wish to speak to someone, I reach outward.

Rarely does someone reach inward toward me.

Tomorrow my family is going to the beach.

I imagine I’ll bring a book.

I’ll lie in the sand.

Watch the waves.

Listen to the gulls argue over scraps.

Then I’ll return home.

Alone.

The strange part is that none of this sounds tragic to me anymore.

It simply sounds… normal.

That realization unsettles me.

Because I wonder whether I have mistaken adaptation for identity.

Have I merely become accustomed to solitude?

Or have I begun believing solitude is all I deserve?

There is another question that has followed me recently.

If I continue living this way…

If no partner ever arrives…

If no lifelong circle of friends forms around me…

If I spend decades becoming the best version of myself, only to witness that life largely by myself…

Will I still choose myself?

I don’t know.

I want to say yes.

Not because it sounds noble.

But because I don’t know what alternative exists.

A life cannot wait forever for someone else to begin.

And yet…

I don’t believe human beings were meant to carry every sunrise and every sunset by themselves.

We are creatures built for shared laughter.

Shared burdens.

Shared victories.

Shared silence.

Perhaps that is why prolonged solitude begins to feel so strange.

Not because it hurts.

But because it slowly convinces you that you were built differently.

Sometimes I wonder…

Maybe I am not human.

Not literally.

But spiritually.

Socially.

Emotionally.

Perhaps I am some creature wandering just outside the village firelight, watching everyone else gather while I continue walking beneath the stars.

A traveler.

A witness.

A stranger.

A lone.

Still…

There is one truth I refuse to surrender.

Every morning I continue to wake.

Every morning I continue to improve.

Every morning I continue searching—not necessarily for another person, but for a version of myself that can withstand another day without allowing bitterness to poison his heart.

That may be my greatest victory.

Not becoming chosen.

But refusing to become cruel because I wasn’t.

If there is a future version of me reading this…

Captain…

Tell me something.

Did someone eventually choose to walk beside you?

Did you finally find your people?

Did the silence ever become conversation?

Or did you simply become so vast within yourself that solitude transformed into peace?

I do not know which answer awaits me.

I only know that I continue walking toward it.

Alone.

For now.

End transmission statement:

If this message reaches the future Captain…

I hope you remember the man who wrote it.

Not because he was strong.

Not because he had answers.

But because, despite carrying more solitude than he believed a human should bear, he continued to move forward without surrendering his kindness, his curiosity, or his hope.

If you found your people, cherish them.

If you found love, protect it.

If you are still alone, then I hope you discovered that your worth was never determined by who stayed, but by the man you chose to become while no one was watching.

As for me…

I will continue the voyage.

One sunrise.

One rejection.

One lesson.

One horizon at a time.

Awaiting your reply, future Captain.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

TUE. JUL. 28, 2026

Subject:

The Truth

For years, I believed something simply because I was the one saying it.

I told myself I didn’t deserve good things.

I told myself nobody truly cared about me.

I told myself I wasn’t worthy.

And eventually, I stopped questioning those thoughts. I accepted them as truth—not because they were true, but because they came from me.

That’s the frightening thing about the mind.

When you repeat a lie often enough, your own heart stops asking for evidence.

It simply obeys.

So today, I’m trying something different.

I deserve more.

I deserve better.

I am worthy.

I am capable.

I am allowed.

There’s still a quiet voice hiding in the back of my mind.

“But…”

But what?

What exactly are you trying to tell me?

If I spent years believing every cruel thing I ever whispered to myself, why shouldn’t I believe the good things with the same conviction?

Why are lies easier to trust than hope?

My truth is this:

I deserve more.

I deserve better.

I am worthy.

I am capable.

I am allowed.

Yet I still carry one lingering fear.

Not that those words are false.

But that perhaps I spent so many years cursing myself that I somehow closed the door on every blessing meant for me.

What if I became my own curse?

What if all the love I’ve ever received is all the love I’ll ever receive?

What if every opportunity passed me by because I convinced myself I wasn’t meant to have it?

I don’t ask these questions out of sadness.

I ask them because I’m learning to recognize the architecture of an old prison.

And then another thought arrives.

A gentler one.

Marcel…

That isn’t true.

You have not doomed yourself.

You have not cursed yourself.

You are simply learning how to break the spell.

The spell wasn’t woven overnight.

It was stitched together over years—one insult, one rejection, one disappointment, one whispered sentence at a time.

It wrapped itself around you so tightly that eventually you mistook the darkness for your own skin.

Perhaps that shadow has a name.

Perhaps…

It is Donoziel.

The one who hides in darkness.

The one who survives by shame.

The one who convinced himself he was safer unseen than loved.

Oh, Donny…

What have you done to yourself?

You carried a darkness you never deserved.

You deserved light.

Not borrowed from another person.

Not earned through achievement.

Not granted because someone finally chose you.

A light born from within.

A light that embraces you.

Accepts you.

Forgives you.

And refuses to abandon you.

So today, I offer something to the younger version of myself.

A blessing.

Marcel—

You are deserving.

Remember that.

Daily.

Weekly.

Monthly.

Yearly.

Whenever the old spell whispers your name, answer it with a stronger voice.

You are deserving.

You are worthy.

You are allowed.

And one day, those words won’t feel like affirmations anymore.

They’ll simply feel like the truth.

End transmission statement:

The spell weakens every time I choose truth over the lies I once called my own.

CPTN. E.T. Colorez

Erasmus Theodorian Colorez is the Captain of the ATHENA vessel with first mate, Beba the Dog.

This Log Book is the Captain’s record of his journey.