Scott Vandehey. The name resonants through my mind as I say it to myself. He was nothing but a young man when I first met him. Fresh out of high school, taking the first steps of starting a life, stumbling over his own inadequencies. Without my help he would still be there, lying face first in the mud of Portland State without a pray of ever standing on his own two feet.

Late September 1996, Introduction to Graphic Design. Commonly referred to as "Hell." The early morning light streamed through the windows of the studio as I entered. A bit pensive myself, of what I didn't know, but it soon made itself clear as a gawky boy with a bad haircut entered and took the seat next to me. In disgust I turned away. Little did I know it was already too late.

Over the next three years I would not be able to shake this strange person. A mixture of man and boy, I did what I could to raise him above his station. In a way I have succeeded yet my failure stares me in my face almost everyday. A little less gawky, with a little less hair I lost part of him to the Internet and chatrooms. His constant chatter of web pages, comic books, crappy movies, bad music and silly pop culture fills my head untill it almost implodes. I try to ignore it but I find myself constantly failing.

Spring 1999. Why do I hate him? Why shouldn't I hate him. How to describe the ways in which he has weasled his way into my life; the strange web he has cast that actually makes me seek him out, looking forward to his musings on the X-files and Star Wars (oh, by the way...my friend Clark says that he has seen an episode of Star Trek were the draw a connection between it and Star Wars...crazy, huh?).

Who is Scott Vandehey and why do I hate him. He is my best friend. I don't hate him; I love him and that is why I hate him.

You asked.