My Dwive Home

by John Bewenz


I got a flat tire. Very sad.









So I had to spend a lot of time trying two leak plugger thingeys and then putting the spare on. I was happy that it was warm and sunny outside. But the spare tire is dinky and I had to drive all the way home on the highway at 50 miles an hour.



That was sad.









But I had a Mountain Dew Live Wire from Wal-Mart, and that made me happy!








So I drove on in the sunshine. The sun was going down so it was very pretty outside and I liked it.








I looked forward a lot because that was the direction I was going...








Lots of people passed me because I was going so slow. I felt bad because they all had to get around me.









My class started at this time, but I wasn't there because I was driving because it took so long to fix the tire. I got there 50 minutes late and came in the back.








The sun kept going down and made long and longer shadows.








Even going slow, I still liked my car. It's a Mazda.









It was probably interesting for everybody passing me--looking to their right and seeing this college age guy in an anachronistic brown leather two-snap driving cap munching a sub, contentedly motoring along in a cool sports wagon at 53 miles an hour. Then we hit the rush hour traffic and we were no longer contentedly motoring. I've been in enough traffic and was feeling happy enough that I was still content, but you could hardly call what we were doing "motoring." It wasn't as bad as I expected though, and I always liked it when I could go over into the left lane and drive with the fast people, 'cause "fast" in that case was more like 30mph.

Class was good even though I missed stuff at the start, and I answered a question and the professor really liked my answer and said so like 3 times. And when he was leaving I called out and reminded him to take his wireless mic off 'cause he would have left with it on and we would have heard all kinds of stuff! The two guys in front of me laughed and turned around and talked to me for a sec 'cause he had left it on once before and walked out of the room and we could hear him talking through the speaker in the classroom. Then we had a teacher evaluation survey, and I was the last one to leave. I said to the nice girl who had to wait for me "Sorry 'bout that. Survey people always hate me :-) I actually think about what I say!" And she smiled and said "have a good night!" and I said "you too!" and walked out the door and sang "Folsom Prison" loud in the big tall hall. In the bathroom I was still singing and when I hit the low note it happened to resonate with the room at that point and sounded really loud and sweet, so I felt powerful like Johnny Cash and smiled. Then I walked over to the other side of the room and it didn't resonate anymore so I didn't feel powerful anymore. But I still had my sweet hat on, so I was still cool. Then I went outside and did hackey sack by two sidewalk lights for half an hour until I could barely lift my foot any more. I didn't get 20, but I got 18 once, 17 several times, and 15 a bunch. It felt really cool to hack again, and I felt light on my feet like I was defying gravity with my sweet moves. Probably how dancers feel when they're in the groove.

On a different note, I just came upstairs from playing guitar for 30 minutes in the pitch black in the basement with my eyes closed. Closing your eyes is a great way to practice soloing because it makes you learn stuff by feel, strengthening your tactile awareness for playing rather than going from sight alone. I'm playing two solos for the concert coming up, and some pitiful results at past attempts are driving me to work on it so as not to be ashamed before the crowd :-) Apostle Paul's lingo is in my head from listening through his epistles for the last week or so. He sounds like quite an interesting guy, no-holds-barred, sorta like me in that way. Hearing his letters read out loud (on CD) makes them seem much more like letters, and I'm thinking of them less and less like "Booksss in the hooollly scripturrrzz of the Lorrrrd" (spoken in the pious drone of the preacher from the Simpsons). By hey diddly ho they're just letters, I say (Ned Flanders there). Also, all that electric guitar was played quietly through my big Fender amp, meaning there was no distotion and not much extra gain or sustain beyond the natural vibrational life of the strings. That's a great great way to work on solos because it forces you to play and hear and USE the notes, not get lazy with a bunch of wacky cover-up sounds from some crazy distortion. I think hearing a bunch of BTO and CCR and Doobie Brothers on random shuffle the last two days has helped, too. I got up to about 160 songs today, out of like 2936 or so. 10 hours down, 7 days 14 hours to go!

This whole post has been written in the lyrical style of Mike Quinlisk because I read his blog last night and it made me laugh because it was funny. I was bored going so slow on the highway, too, so I took all those pictures. It was really pretty and warm and I had my windows open and played Switchfoot, and enjoyed everything except when I hit that one pothole with the spare tire. Ouch for skinny tires.

I have the screw that was in my tire sitting on the passenger seat. It's more than an inch long, and it's a really sharp wood screw. I'm trying to think of what to do to it or with it, since it's probably going to cost me about a hundred dollars to fix what it caused.

Mountain Dew Live Wire is very good. Buy some today at your local Wal-Mart for only 97 cents plus tax! $1.04 for 20 ounces of orange happiness!

Night y'all. Time to pray for Palestine and CoG and take a shower and sleep. I should shave off my goatee, and BTO is sweet.

--CA

Good-bye Grovers

Well, yesterday was another Sunday in Pittsburgh, but it was also a sobering milestone in our little church's life. Eric and Bethany Grover--care group leaders, worship leader, founding member, one-third of the leadership team--are leaving. For several months now it has been clear that God is leading them to move to New Jersey to help a church which has just become a part of Sovereign Grace Ministries. There's no doubt it's God's plan, and Eric, Bethany, and all of Providence Church want nothing besides being a part of God's plan to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ and build up His church. I've been gone so much that I haven't had to face the reality of their departure, so it was strange to realize, as we all sat in the cafeteria eating lunch and sharing encouragements and thanks with them, that next week they wouldn't be here.

As Mom remarked later that day, it was as good a send-off as you could wish for. Eric preached a sermon about the Kingdom of God and giving ourselves to that purpose, which is his passion and the reason they're willing to leave and we're willing to let them go. After the sermon Mr. Pierson came up and interrupted Eric's preparations to lead "Your Great Renown" to close the service. To express our gratefulness for the ~700 times Eric has led worship here (not even counting the hundreds of care groups he's played for) we gave him a new guitar amp to replace his battered Roland. And of course, it's a shame to plug an old guitar into a new amp, so we brought out the new guitar we got him too :-) I suppose it may have been an emotional moment for people as Eric led us in his song "Your Great Renown" one last time, but I was pretty much consumed with the low levels in my headphones and then the no levels at all when they fell off my head. Such often are times of worship when one is playing electric guitar.

The luncheon in the school cafeteria was nice. Good food, TONS of desserts, getting to talk to folks, and then people coming up and sharing stuff with the Grovers, bearing witness to the many works of God in and through their lives. I thanked Eric for the time he gave helping me set up my recording stuff, and the example of patience he showed as the CPU gave us endless trouble. I also appreciated the months when we met for lunches down at Pitt and he listened to the stuff going on in my life and prayed with me. In the end, when I think of Eric, I think of what I've said to several people in Ohio when they ask "so, when are you moving to Akron?" I say I'm not planning to, even though Akron's a blast, 'cause there are people in Pittsburgh like Eric Grover who cut my pride no slack at all. He's not mean by any means, but he just won't be impressed by me or cater to my ego at all. He has kept bringing my high flying electric guitar personality down to earth--doing all for the glory of God. Even his memory will serve me as a marker of focus on God, and that's what real friendship is all about. I will miss the Grovers (though not as much as many whose lives have been more tightly knit with theirs), but I know the effects of their lives here will continue bearing fruit for God, and I'm excited to see what God does as Ryan takes on leadership of the worship team and our care groups get re-formed.

This is now the second pillar of strength we have sent out from this church (The Praters leaving several years ago was the first), which I find interesting. God does seem to be using us for "church planting" in that way, but not quite as we might have expected. He alone knows what's coming next as we've got a crop of youth approaching adulthood. Michael, Jonathan, Ryan, Daniel, Justin...where will we be in five years? I don't put anything past God to do, so we can only walk on and see where He leads.

Bye Grovers! Great is the God we serve!

--Clear Ambassador

The joy of chemical names

Good gravy! Did you know that 2,7:3,6-Dimethanonaphth [2,3-b]oxirene,3,4,5,6,9,9-hexachloro-1a,2,2a,3,6,6a,7,7a-octahydro-, (1aalpha,2beta,2abeta,3alpha,6alpha,6abeta,7beta,7aalpha)- metabolites are CERCLA regulated substances?? Me either 'till just now. Man, that changes everything!

This easily takes the award for the most gnarled and ghastly chemical name I've ever come across. I've never even seen, let alone been taught about the alpha and abeta nomenclature in there! Heh - the common name is probably something like "Red Dust" :-P

It's funny to see the kind of contortions we get ourselves into when we try to name the chemicals that God put in this world. We can hardly even adequately describe most of the stuff around us!

--1,2-dimethylclear-[2alpha,2abeta-tris-nonylambassador]phosphite

Orange Street Weekend

Ah, what a sweet weekend! If you're wondering how the gig at The Orange Street went, it went GREAT. If you're wondering what The Orange Street is, it's essentially a teen club in Akron. Like a normal run-down joint where local bands play, just minus the alcohol, and they finish up before midnight 'cause of the curfew on under-eighteeners. In other words, the perfect place for Pure Boss to play.

Basic chronology: I took a half day Friday, got to Akron at 2:45, we set up and practiced for 2 hours in the Chima's barn, then frantically packed up the cars, figured out our outfits and drove to the OS. Set up our stuff, finally the sound guy hooked us into the system, we sound checked, waited around, then played, then hung out and watched the 5 other bands play (minus the one we missed while getting dinner at Taco Bell). I go back to Chimas, we hang around and watch a movie, I play myself sleepy on acoustic guitar, we sleep till 11 or so in the basement, wake up and get moving, Steve comes over, we set up again in the barn, and then practice for hours getting ready for the YMCA concert. Lunch break (Yay Lance for bringing pizza!), set list creation, running through setlist, then yet another tear-down and load-up-car routine. Dinner with the band at Baja Fresh, then I'm on the road home, arriving at said place of residence at 11:04pm. Hard to believe that was all just 34 hours. Felt like a whole weekend!

The Orange Street is a great place - scroungy, dirty, beaten-down stage, dusty stacks of speakers reaching up to the low ceiling, bank of dusty orangey yellow lights glaring down on the stage (leaving mysterious dark corners behind the speakers), and a very disconcerting stairway at the back leading down into corroded bricky darkness. Gives me de jibbleys, as Strong Bad would say. Basically, it's exactly the kind of place you'd expect to hear loud, harsh-sounding pounding music from local bands. Honestly, though, it wasn't that hard core. Some of the bands were really mild (i.e. lame!), and most of the crowd was pretty benign.

We pulled up out front, parked, and just sorta walked in the door like, well, um, we're playing here tonight, but we don't know how anything works or who to talk to or what to do, so we'll just walk in and put our hands in our pockets and look at the emo music people around and try to sorta look cool and not clueless 'cause we're actually playing here in a real music place :-) There were already maybe 20 people mulling around, mostly groups of high-school/junior high friends, some of 'em mildly goth looking. Finally I saw somebody go up behind the sound board, and knew I had found the man to talk to. We were cool, talked about how it works and what to do, and then we started bringing our stuff in and setting up on the stage (since we were the first band playing). It's a funny dynamic when you have a bunch of band people around, all playing that night, all checking each other out, but not wanting to look like you are, and all wondering how good the other people are, and either being egotistical and thinking you're awesome, or feeling pretty inept and out of place 'cause everybody else is probably better than you, and I'm sure they're all real bands, and we're not a band, we're just me and Brian and Stephen.

So we set up, and then came a time of being told that we had done all we needed to, and the sound guy would set up his mics and such for the house system, and tell us what to do. He was nowhere to be found, and it was past seven, when we were supposed to start, and geez, where IS he? Hmm...maybe down in the undisclosed depths of the basement.... but ah, there he is now, and yay, he's setting up drum mics! Oh, and at some point everybody who had trickled in (maybe 40 people) were told to go back out side and come in again, and pay and get their hands marked. So we herded out the door like sheep and made a little crowd on the sidewalk outside. How sweet to say we were one of the bands playing, and get to go in for free :-) No $6 from me, baby!

Finally he said we were ready to go, so we sorta walked through the folks grouped up in front of the stage and hooked up our instruments. It was kinda funny because the "stage" was about 2 inches above the floor, and everybody was basically standing in a mass 5 feet in front of us. Lights were blasting down on us from the ceiling at the edge of the stage, so we really couldn't see the people out there very well, but they were like right in front of us. Definitely different from a big tall stage in a big room. Cool, though, and very personal. We sound checked real quick at the directions from the sound booth, and then I was like, "so, we're ready to go?" in to my mic, and he gave me the thumbs up. Then, to the consternation and amazement of all present, I got up, Steve gave me his bass, and we switched our instruments! One guy was like "WHAT?? What are they doing??" :-) Brian leans up to his mic and says "Hi, we're Coldplay." And he and I start jumping up and down in time(no music yet). Up to this point I really didn't know how things were going to go--if we'd be stuck with a bunch of depressed emo kids who were too *cool* to have a good time and rock out, or if everybody would hate us, or what. The group of junior high girls who'd been gaggling around all evening seemed ready to rock, though, and when I looked over to the left where they were clustered and saw them start to jump up and down with us, I knew it was going to be sweet :-) Brian started the F - C - Gm - Bb progression, and the gig began!

Folk were indeed ready and willing to rock out, and we had a blast. It was so small and close that we could hear everything quite well, and we were very tight as a band. Brian rocked out like I've never seen before, BUT BUT BUT he didn't just mash the strings and throw his guitar out of tune and break strings and all, so we didn't have dead time. Steve sang well and got into too, hopping up on the kick drum and doing guitar jumps and stuff. And I could feel the low end from the speakers every time I hit the kick drum, which gave me a feeling of solidity and power that bolstered my playing a ton. We were very well practiced up, and since this was only a 30-minute set we played the best of our songs and kept them coming. We rocked out, moved around a ton, and each new song came in snappy and tight. As 5 family members told us afterward, we played the best that night that we ever have. And the non-family non-church people who'd never seen or heard of us before loved us! We sold SIX CD's, signed a bunch, got in some pictures, signed some pants, and when we crashed out the end of one song I heard from somewhere "Will you marry me??" :-P Girls do make the best fans, 'cause they get into it and rock out and scream at the end of every song. They were a geat crowd, and I muchly appreciated their participation. It was a great feeling when we finished the set and knew that we had played our best and kept it tight and energetic. So sweet! It was basically the perfect concert, and now I'll stop blabbering about it :-) And I'm not being proud in what I'm saying, like we're something great or anything. It's just that we've been beating ourselves up about how lame we look while we're playing, and how much dead time we have, and how our songs are crummy and our music is boring and nobody will get into it and we're just totally not like a real band at all...but it actually went off like a good band! We were the second-best band there that night, and definitely got the crowd into it the most. It was very encouraging, and just a lot of fun!

Four of the other bands were quite lame in various ways, but it was still fun to hang out and watch them. The last band, Templeton's Zeal, was...well, they could easily be a pro band, they just haven't gotten their break yet. The drummer was stunningly skilled (and rip, too), and the guitar player was obviously immersed in the school of Hendrix and Zepplin and the likes, and was bested by them by only subtle points of technique and skill. Seriously--he was stunningly good. The few of us who hung around to the bitter end pretty much just stood or sat at the foot of the stage and watched them in awe, happy to sit there as long as they would play, watching something so much better than we could ever play or think of playing. Very cool, and they were really nice guys, too.

It was cool spending the night at the Chima's house and practicing there Saturday. I've wanted to get to know Brian's family better, and it was cool to go to Akron and not be at the Hoffman's house (no offense at all--it's just something different). Jake and Tojie are great dogs, big friendly black labs, and their house is sweet. We practiced in their barn, which is like an unused 2-car garage out behind the house with carpets on the floor and couches around, and record covers up on the walls and random speakers and drum sets and stuff laying around. The perfect place to practice, even if it was 40 degrees and chilling. I kept wiping condensation off my mic, and poor Steve and Brian had a deuce of a time playing with stiff cold fingers. It was a good practice, though, and by the end we were ready for the YMCA gig--all 1.5 hours of it. I got really ticked at one point, sorta building on the fact that my $400 effects pedal had crapped out on me and we were getting ear-piercing feedback for no apparent reason. It's weird--sometimes I just get in this realy ticked mood while we're practicing. I actually think it's related to having that much loud music pounded into me for so long. It just seems to aggravate me for brief periods, even though there isn't a clear reason that meets the level of felt aggravation. Practice and setup and teardown and concert stress are providing many many times to work on not getting angry at stuff. Ahh, how good of God to keep providing instances for me to work on this besetting sin (strained smile of exasperated faith) :-D Ah well. Still good times, definitely.

After practice I wasn't ready to just drive home, so we swung by the Hoffman's, I found my leather jacket and iPod (thank you Lord!), and we piled into Brian's sweet Celica for a quick dinner. It was a great time at Baja Fresh sitting at the high table by the fake tree in the cool eating room chomping down tasty burritos and talking. Dude, we're a band! We're brothers, we've been through sweat and stress and lots and lots of practicing and hard work together, and we're coming more and more into agreement and unison with our purpose and commitment as a band. We know our songs really well, and there is a special kind of connection with people when you are all so familiar with a common thing. I love it when we sit down and plan out a setlist--going over the songs, talking about stuff nobody else would know or understand. It's cool, and very "bandy" :-) I drove away that night quite curious about what God is going to do with this brotherly bond we've got goin' here. See shall we.

It was a nice drive home that night. I was comfortable in the seat, tired but not sleepy, happy to be gently rocked by the road. It was better when there were no cars around. Even though I missed people, I was happier alone. I didn't turn the heat on. For some reason it was better to let my feet stay cold. And I didn't turn any music on either. Any sound would have been a tasteless intrusion. Left hand on the steering wheel, head leaning to one side, legs stretched out--every limb laying in peace, yet not motionless. From deepest childhood, the many nights spent falling asleep and waking up in a motor home rolling down the highway, the feel of a steady-moving vehicle is a comfort. Time kind of becomes irrelevant, and you watch the lane markings clip by and the dips and turns come and go, and you feel the road under the tires, and the darkness all around you is a warm, benign companion. Eventually I sat up straighter, put on Elvis, and warmed up the car, but for a long time I was content with the stasis of the dark car and the spot of passing road in my headlights. I was sad when the city got closer and the darkness was broken by street lights and more cars. There is something restful about darkness, and when you're not drowsy a long dark highway is a pretty happy place to be.

And below it all there was my mind thinking about how ironic it was that my primary "experience" of this experience was in thinking about how I was going to write about it when it was over. Ah well. It was still a nice time, and I arrived home as mellow as a bowl of chicken soup, ready to quench my brimming somnolence with slumber.

As I am ready now. Good night.

--Clear Ambassador

Ahh, Dr.Pepper

My blog has been very hospitable lately. As in, it's had lots of visitors :-) Many of them seem to drop by from searches for Dr. Pepper-related stuff. "Dr.Pepper song," "Drink Dr.Pepper be a Pepper," "Dr.Pepper pictures," and my personal favorite: "Amount of sugar in Dr.Pepper." :-)

Oddly enough, I was once trying to find that exact same information last semester. We were working on a project for transport, and I convinced our group ("Team Bloat") to make our project a heat exchanger to cool Dr.Pepper from 2-liter bottles. Heh. I spent one afternoon in the lab calling around and searching the net for the heat capacity of Dr.Pepper, and eventually for the degrees Brix of Dr.P (grams sugar per 100g solution). We eventually found it. So, buddy, whoever you are who searched for that, here's the dope:

Dr.Pepper has 40 grams of sugar per 370mL of solution, meaning it is 10.8 °Brix (A concentration unit common in the beverage industry).

The density of Dr.Pepper is 1.04 g/mL (4% higher than pure water)

The heat capacity of Dr.Pepper at 25 degrees Celsius (room temperature) is 3.94 kJ/kg K. But who ever drinks Dr.P at room temperature?? GOSH. At 0 degrees Celsius (cold as ice. That's better, baby!), it is 3.92 kJ/kg K.

And in case you were wondering, don't run to Wal-mart and look for a chiller for your 2-liter bottles of pop. What we came up with weighed about 500 pounds, was 8 feet long, and cost around $4000 :-) Just put 'em in the fridge, folks!

--Clear Ambassador

A couple other things

Mostly just go read the post below. But in addition,

• So much for knee therapy and push-ups while I'm sick :-( I was up to 64 with no form and 56 with my head not bent down. My knees are doing better, though I despair of my hamstrings ever loosening up.
• Probably the defining image of this trip is my sickness. The crazy cracking of my voice and the obnoxious pain every time I swallowed are the most present things in my mind as I look back over the weekend. That and Jen's water bottle :-)
  
• I spent the whole night tonight writing this blog. Malesh. I've wanted to write harder for awhile, and I'll do what I need to and make do with what I don't.
• I got home this afternoon to find I was locked out. The screen door had been bolted at some point, and nobody has the key for it. So I paced around, called Mom, and finally discovered that by unscrewing the trim I could loosen the stop of the bolt and get to the main door, for which I had a key. Happiness, even though it was a pain for awhile.
• I miss Daisy. I keep looking at the blanked balled up at the other end of the couch and thinking it's her, 'till I remember. :-(
• My typing has been super werid tonight. And that happened for real, as a true, uncorrecte example. Weird :-/
  

--CA

The weekend of a concert and a sore throat

I'm trying to think of where and how to start this post, and all that really comes to mind is "Sheez...another whole weekend in Akron!"

What was supposed to be a Friday night concert and short Saturday practice turned into a whole Friday afternoon to Monday morning extravaganza, setting me once again on the Ohio roads I'm feeling more and more at home on, and mixing me in yet again with the Ohio people I'm getting more and more familiar (like family) with. When I walked in to Covenant of Grace's vaulted little sanctuary for the second week in a row, Jason shook his head and said "Man, you really could take the new member's class!" And after going up for prayer after the sermon, and lining up with others who wanted the gift of prophecy, and standing arm-in-arm with Dr. Negi and Justin Murphy praying for each other, you could almost agree with him.

But it's not really like that, and I definitely felt a bit funny being there and totally missing another weekend of the life of Providince Church of Pittsburgh. I guess it was Eric's last Sunday leading worship (Ryan's leading this week), which was a downer to miss, and I didn't see his email about playing in the band until Saturday night. I definitely know I can't keep up this level of Akron activity indefinitely. It completely amputates the weekends from the rest of my days, and it surrounds me with people I feel very comfortable with but whom I don't actually know that well, and who don't actually know me that well either. It makes me do and say a lot of things I don't do or say with the folks in Pittsburgh, and it lets me be something I can't really be here. But it sure as heck is fun!

Like Steve said last weekend: in some ways these are golden days of our lives, and we'll look back on them fondly yet sadly when they're gone. Jobs, families and responsibilities will soon enough blow away these random, somewhat wasteful, free-wheeling times. But as Dad is quick to point out, they bring with them deeper and more lasting joys--the things God made us for as men and women. I do think there is a special, God-given pleasure in the freedom of youth, though, and I bet it touches on a hint of the feeling we'll get when we arrive in Heaven, and realize we don't have to consider time any more(!!). So, I'm enjoying these times very much, even as I know they can't go on for long.

And you know what else? I have learned a TON about people and life through my adopted citizenship in the rubber city. I never knew how atypical Mom is as a representative of the females of the species until I became Mrs. Hoffman's "#1 son." I didn't used to know how to hang out with people who wouldn't talk seriously about meaningful things. I did not realize how little I knew about people, and how much of them was actually there under the hasty-yet-certain judgments of my over-eager brain. I hadn't seen as clearly how people really do change, and how they change without me lecturing or badgering or teaching or reprimanding them. I didn't realize that I was not above erupting in spouts of real anger towards my brothers and pets given the right provocations and miscommunications. I did not realize how much God has blessed PChOP with a peaceful life and a gloriously smooth transfer of senior pastorship. I didn't know how much fun it is to have an 11-year-old brother around to babble and help with stuff and hang out with whatever's going on. And honestly, I just didn't have nearly as much respect for other people. Even as I've been somewhat puffed up by the mystique of ignorance and the apparitions of talent, I have been deeply humbled and profitably deflated in Akron by seeing my prideful judgements proved dead wrong and people, totally apart from myself, changing and growing and being real. It's hard to describe exactly, but it has come from a year of experience, which gives it a practical vigor that money can't buy. It's cool, and I'm happy to find myself a fool :-)

So...this weekend in particular? Heh. The concert doesn't even seem like the same set of days. But it was, and here are the shining moments in my memory as I look back:

Walking into the big gym-type building (simply referred to as "Mull Ave.") and seeing, rising before me like something I shouldn't be around, a huge black stage and glinting drum set, and a mountainous sound booth crowned with a 15-foot-high projector. It looked like Switchfoot should be playing, not me and Brian and Stephen! Dude, Stephen's stage, which was just stacks of rough-sanded boards and flanges and pipes last week, was covered with black flooring; the edges had black fabric down to the floor; all cables were run underneath, and it all rose two or three feet above the room. And there sat our subs, products of such imprecision and agony, in brooding black, crowned with stacks of speakers. I was awe-struck as I walked up to the stage, there in the dark echoing empty room. I began to realize that this concert was actually going to happen, and it was actually going to be a pretty good show :-)

Mike arrived at Mull Avenue a few minutes later and juiced up the system, giddily eager to show me how it sounded. He powered up whatever amps and EQ's resided in that moster rack of his, and soon enough the opening strains of "Beatiful Day" started coming out. He pushed up some faders, and the whole room seemed to come into line with the sound waves. I started to praise it, and he shooshed me. "Wait 'till it really comes in." When the bass and drums came crashing in with Bono's voice on the chorus, I finally realized that what we had made WORKED. And moved air. I shook my head happily as those boxes of wood we put together pounded the air in that whole building and sounded good! That was a happy moment--the feeling of a creator seeing his creation succeed. (And I was only like 2nd string assistant creator. Mike did the hard work.)

Major shining moment: sitting behind the drums, pounding away like I have for dozens of practices down in the Hoffman's basement, and realizing as I looked out between the cymbals that there were a couple hundred people out there jumping up and down and screaming to our music! We were finally here! We were on a big stage, the sound was working, there was enough low end, we could hear well enough to play together, and there were other people who were actually enjoying it! And in the haze of residual smoke machine fog and the glow of stage lights, those fans looked pretty cool, and it really seemed like we were playing a concert :-) Now, *cough*, most of those folks knew us as friends and would probably love whatever we did, to some degree, and there were at tops 200, and the sound wasn't perfect, and between every song we had to kill time while Brian tuned or swapped out his guitar after busting another string...but still, we played, we had a blast, and they had a blast. I guess from a Godless standpoint that's really what rock bands are all about, and it was quite an experience.

Let's pause for a few details and lowlights :-) I woke up Friday morning wretchedly sick. I ached unbearably, my head was on the edge of dizziness, and the back of my mouth began that hateful swelling--one of my least favorite feelings ever. I still got up super early, though, and got to work at 20 to six. I finished the DMR and a few routine items, croaked with Jane a bit, and then staggered out to my car at 11 o'clock, dreading the hour-and-a-half drive ahead of me. It ended up being ok though, mostly because of the sunny sky and the Advil I took. I got to Mull Avenue at 12:30 and from then till 4 or so I and an ever-increasing group of people prepared and set up for the concert. We sound checked and practiced early in the afternoon, and then the other bands practiced. And we started getting worried, 'cause they were really good and we felt pretty sucky and lame. But alas. We're creative and original, we're only 3 instruments, we have a lot of fans who love us and know our songs, and we're really not hung up on ourselves. The other bands played, starting at 7, and did rock the house, but not so much so that we didn't hold our own (according to people we asked). I was sick all day, but still sang and played. The teardown afterwards would have been abject misery, but Jen pushed me into a couch and brought me water and made me rest, which probably kept me from getting totally washed out. Nevertheless, I was up till 2am loading and unloading hundreds of pounds of gear in the bitter cold night. Teardown sucks, and that night was perhaps the lowlight. But really it was all fine.

Sleeping in Saturday was blessed. Sleeping in till 2:30, though, was a bit much! That left the rest of the day basically taken up with Brian getting here, trying to round up him and Stephen, and making two trips to Mull Avenue to get all the stuff. Bless 'em, though, Bri and Steve did the first trip themselves and let me and Craig take the bass amp to Lentine's and go to the Hatterie. That got me moving enough to help with the second trip, despite my plaguing dizziness and painful throat. It's getting to be more and more fun to hang out with Steve and Brian as a band, and Brian even sorta regretted setting up dinner with other friends when he realized we could have hung out and had taco salad at the Hoffmans.

I loaded up my plate with this huge taco salad, eager to dig into Mrs. H's great food and give my body the nourishment it needed. I pushed it away 20 minutes later, one-fourth eaten. My energy had given out and my appetite had died at the foot of my cold. I eventually finished it, but that night I was really under the illness, and made for bed as soon as possible. "No, I'm not watching the Bride!" *more whining from the den [:-)]. Come watch the Bride!* "Sorry, I'm sure it's a great production, but I'm going to bed." And so I did with the firm resolution of desperate need, and so I procured nearly 10 hours of sleep while still getting up at 9 o'clock Sunday morning. The time between 11pm and 1am sucked, though, 'cause I just couldn't sleep, and tossed and turned under the sleeping bag, and drove Brandy away, and poured sweat, yet got chilled as soon as I got out from under the covers. Rarely can I not sleep, and I did NOT enjoy the experience. [I don't know how you do it, wood elf.] THAT was the lowlight of the trip, no doubt. Not a fun time. But finally I took calcium and B, and was asleep pretty soon after that. Yay for witch doctor drugs!

Church was good, but also kinda weird, as I said above. I almost played one of my recordings from my iPod for the offering music, but we didn't have the right adapters :-( Rebekah was on spring break, so she was there, which was an unexpected bonus. Got to hear more about the upheavals at PHC and God's accompanying grace.

Another good highlight was going to lunch after church. I asked around and kept asking, and finally rounded up Steve, Mike, Jess, Jen, Craig and Chad for Chipotle (Brian man, you missed out!). It was very much like last summer. We got our food and sat around a double table outside (yes, outside!), and with one question I started a productive conversation which lasted the duration of the dining. We mostly hang out in rather superfluous ways, so it's always good to hear what God's doing in our lives. We'd all gone up that morning for prayer after church, so we went around and shared, if we wanted, what we'd gotten prayed for. It's just cool to see God making changes, showing us previously unseen sins, convicting us of areas that need work, and blessing us with His Holy Spirit in real ways. Like I said there, in ten or twenty years we're going to be the people leading the care groups and preaching the sermons, so if we don't start getting real with this stuff now, when will we? It's good stuff :-)

Sunday was the marathon day. Church, lunch, loading up and setting up for practice at the Chima's, practicing hard for four and a half hours, hanging around in the Chima's house for a long time, going back to the Hoffman's, unloading more, helping Steve with his paper, and finally turning down more appeals to watch "The Bride" and going up to bed at 11pm. Practice was definitely a highlight. One of Brian's neighbors and her little daughter, huge Pure Boss fans, came over for it, and ended up sitting in the chilly garage for all four and a half hours watching us play and singing along and dancing around the driveway :-) It made us enjoy it a lot more, even as we dredged up 6-month-old songs and hammered through tough arrangements like "My Plea" and "Fly From Me." We're still amazed that they stayed the whole time! We're very appreciative :-) Hanging out after practice was fun, too. I had been thinking lately that I'd like to spend some time at the Chima's and get to know Brian's family better.. and we did! Mrs. C graciously brought us hot chocolate out in the garage, and when we came in later she heated up turkey for us and got us pop. That was hotrockinawesome, to say the least. We planned out the set list for the Orange Street gig this Friday and then sat around the kitchen table with Nick and bantered for like an hour. Brian and Nick are some funny guys, I tell you what.

My throat was raped from that practice, and the rest of Sunday was spent with pain at every swallow and rasp in every spoken word. It's like that now, Monday night, and I just pray that as I eat well, sleep tons, drink lots and lots of water and try to talk little, my body will get itself back in shape for this Friday. I sound like my voice is changing :-P

Monday morning I got up in time to be at work like normal, but called in and said I'd be late, and got another hour and a half of sleep. No messing around--this cold is going DOWN! Sleep is good, and was a highlight of the weekend. I think for a few days there I actually got enough sleep, and wasn't tired during the days! Kinda crazy. I'm going in to work late tomorrow, too, for the same reason.

For now, the house is empty, and I've been pretty lonely tonight. I've been sadder leaving Akron these last few times, and especially now, as Mom and Dad are in Orlando and Daniel's in Chicago and Daisy's at the Quinlisks. I'm sorely missing the bubbly company that surrounds me over there. But that means I'm setting myself less on God. So I'm letting myself feel the loneliness, and taking it to Jesus, offering it up and praying that He will be that to me, and much more. It's easy and attractive to fill yourself with happy friends who like you and fun things you do, but if there's nothing else beneath that, you're gonna feel the pangs of emptiness as soon as it's taken away. Such I have felt, and feel a bit now, and so I go to the Jesus that John wrote about, to the Jesus magnified in Hebrews, to the Jesus who sends the whole universe fleeing at the sight of His face in Revelation, .. to the Jesus who stood there in the dusty temple and told the people standing in front of Him "Before Abraham was, I am." .. to the Jesus who immediately reached out His hand and caught Peter as he started to sink on the waves of Galilee. Ah, may I come to actually know you, Lord! Thank You for Akron, and may Your will be done there, and here, as it is in Heaven. Amen, and please help my cold to heal very fast :-)

--Croaky Ambassador

The show must go on

I'm sick (but thankfully not as sick as Shannon), and I'm heading out to play a concert tonight.
:-) for the concert
:-( for the sick
:-) for leaving work before 11am (worked late last night, got in super early this morning).
:-( for the crazy aching everywhere
:-( for having to drive an hour and a half
:-) for the rig already being mostly set up at Mull Ave
:-) for smiley faces

--Sick Ambassador

New Song!!

Well, after wishing I could write some more songs, I have written one! And guess where it began? Correct--the bathroom! That plumbed source of all inspiration led me to begin singing whatever came to mind at the end of the workday today, and soon out popped this little jumpy melody and some words. So I spent the drive home composing it and recording little snippets on my cell phone. Here are the words. Think Death Cab meets Coldplay meets Keane, with a dash of the Beatles...

Time after time, time after time looking out the door.
Time after time, time after time what's he waiting for?

But you were always on my side,
I couldn't tame you, I couldn't blame you;
You were always on my side,
I couldn't trace you, I couldn't chase away your plans for me.

Back of my mind, back of my mind it's been pa - id for.
Back in the time, back in the time that he ca - me for,

'Cause you were always on my side,
I couldn't tame you, I couldn't blame you;
You were always on my side,
I couldn't trace you, I couldn't chase away your plans for me.


I've had several thoughts about a bridge or alternate section, but it's already dangerously similar to lots of modern stuff, and those additions would push it over the edge. I'm hoping to soak it with layers of vocal harmonies, of which I've had multitudinous ideas.

Praise God He's on our side! What unmerited mercy!

--Clear Ambassador

Stuff I like right now

Flipping through some old old memories ("The Behrens Home Gazette" archive) made me consider again the nature and purpose of this blog. I want to remember what I'm like right now, not just what I'm doing. So, I'm going to list some stuff I really like right now:

I think I like and respect Switchfoot, Jars of Clay, and Johnny Cash the most right now. "Nothing is Sound" is just stunning in every way--lyrically, compositionally, arrangements, recording, production... Jars of Clay just delights my soul at a deep level with their God-glorifying songs (especially "Redemption Songs" and "Who We Are Instead") and good-enough-to-respect-and-love music. "Redemption Songs" is one of the only albums I'll play when I'm feeling depressed or emotionally sensitive. It takes me the right places, and it's enjoyable (vs. basically all worship music). I'm also excited to be liking in a functional way Bela Fleck, Nordic Roots, some oriental stuff, and Elvis. I'm loving Elvis, after the subwoofer weekend in Akron!

Dr.Pepper continues to be a delight, and Cherry Vanilla has taken equal footing with it's progenitor. CVNDP has its good days and its bad days, but I keep coming back. We also discovered a great new drink last weekend: the "Pure Boss." *roughly* 2 parts silver rum, 3 parts Dr.Pepper, and 2 parts Mountain Dew Live Wire. Virgin ain't bad either, but leaded is amazing. Truly transcending its components. Good scotch, VSOP cognac, Killians and JW Dundees are also very enjoyable. They justify their little two-carbon hydroxy molecule.

I really truly do like good healthy food. Fast food and freezer meals and such just aren't meals! Real meat, real grains, and especially REAL VEGETABLES are just plain critical. And because of this, I think I'll probably always eat pretty well, even though I most definitely enjoy and partake of junkfood. When it's time to really eat, go for food the way God made it. Veggies make a uniquely-satisfying snack, too, if they're good quality. Mom's cooking is just amazing. It's good not because of the easy cop-outs (salt, fat, sugar, butter, salt, and more salt), but because it's REAL food! It's like scotch versus pop. Pop tastes good because it's sugar water loaded with a single, cartoonish artificial flavor. Scotch is good because you can taste the oak barrel it was aged in, the charring inside of that barrel, the grain it was brewed from, and the myriad complexities that developed as that blend of biological molecules aged for 12 years. Such it is with Mom's cooking--you marvel at how good real meat, real wheat, real vegetables, and real herbs can be, especially when put together. Thanks so much Mom! You rock :-)

One of my all-time favorite things is contact from people on my stuff online. Whether it's comments and view on my Flickr pictures, comments or visits to the blog, or postings on such sites by others, it's always exciting to see what other people say and do. I really don't miss AIM, though, which is nice. I wonder if other people care as much as I do about comments and stuff.

I really really like doing stuff on Excel. Even if I wasn't paid $17 an hour to do it, I would happily hunch over a keyboard and figure out a solution to some need using Excel and the marvelous depths of its commands and capabilities. The type of thinking required to harness the bland blind little functions and exploit the drag 'n' copy capabilities is just delightful. I was SO excited when I discovered the INDIRECT command. I ran into Tom's office and just sorta blurted it all out. I've looked for that function for years! [He interrupted me suddenly and asked "When are you graduating?" with tilted eyebrows. Another indiciation that I think God wants me to work at NOVA after I graduate] I don't know how this will relate to my career, or what I should do, but I just love it. Remember the stuff I set up with LOOKUP for Tier II monthly reports? Ahhhh :-)

I like my car, but it's filthy freakin' dirty inside and out, the clutch is wearing out, and I'm always nervous about the skinny performance tires and expensive alloy wheels. Plus it has crappy traction, which really ticks me off. When you decide to sacrifice the clutch and the gas mileage and gun it, though, it can really tug. I used to get 30mpg while working, but now it's like 28.5. Probably because I go to and leave work an hour later than I used to, and I spend a bunch of time in traffic. Ugh and I hate myself for staying up so late and screwing up everything :-(

I love love love playing with Pure Boss! I care about concerts only insomuch as I wish I could transmit the joy and energy of our practices to other people. There is nothing like the feeling as I squeeze out from behind the drumset after a set that went really well. I love Brian and Stephen and am respecting them more and more as for-real people, friends, and in Stephen's case, a real brother.

Hanging out with youth is way cool, as always. God is chipping away at my pride and coldness in this area, and underneath is more freedom, joy and richness in relationships. It's not all good, 'cause of my terribly self-centered mindset, but most of the time it's a blast. Akron is obviously super fun, but Pittsburgh is sorta cool in a deeper way. It's cool to see folks becoming more serious, relationships becoming more meaningful, and activities becoming less limited.

I really haven't done much with music other than Pure Boss. No time at home period. I got a new recording computer, though, 3.2gHz, 160 gig hard drive, 1 gig of ram, and a QUIET FAN!!! Ahhh, it's gonna be incredible once it's all set up and I have time to use it. Acoustic guitar is cool, and I'm finally at the place (have been for ~6 months) where I can sit and plunk around on it for as long as I want, and not be bored, frustrated, or irritated at what I play. I was thinking today that I want to write again. Other than Daniel's song I haven't written anything in months. We'll see what happens. Recording is almost hard to enjoy because of the limitations of outboard compression, preamp quality, sonic isolation, and acoustic guitar. With the right intangible, indefinable, unpredictable SPIRIT, though, I can still get sweet stuff.

I DON'T like Physical Chemistry. Not because I hate the subject matter, but because I hate turning my mind to it in the midst of all this other stuff going on. I've reached the point now where I'm saying "Screw the homework, I'll take a B." We'll see. I do the bare minimum and get right back on with life after class. Ugh.

I like taking pictures. Freezing and preserving one instant of time lets you get sweet effects and makes stuff look really cool.

I like American Eagle--coolest clothes I know of, and they have some good clearances.

Daisy! Of course! Heh, every day the wonders of her cuteness are as fresh as the day we got her.

I really really like the gospel of John. The dialogues are just stunning. What Jesus says, and the situations He said it in, are just riveting. And the Pharisees are so crazily contrary to everything they purported to stand for, it just shows the utter hopelessness of the human situation without God opening our hearts. Ah, it's an amazing gospel, and I like focusing on Jesus Himself, the person, in whatever comes up in life.

OK, enough. Still have 5 of 8 homework problems to do before 6pm tomorrow :-P These are busy days, future self. I feel like there is no time whatsoever during the week, but I'm also starting to apply the rigorous discipline and prioritization of work to home, and it yeilds surprising results.

Oh, and I also enjoy working out, even if it's just knee exercises, push-ups and thera-band stuff up in my room. The muscular effort feels great, and, I dunno . . . it's just nice to not be anemic. I'll never be a beast, but at least I'm not "without form and void" :-P

--Present Self :-)

Workend of Week

I was there from Thursday afternoon till Monday morning.

We built two beeeg subwoofer cabinets.

We built most of 8 sturdy sections of stage.

We ate bags and bags of chips, bottles and bottles of pop, and bags and bags of candy. And several great hearty meals graciously and generously prepared my Mom #2 (Thank you Mrs. Hoffman!).

We practiced fiercly on Sunday and our band knit together in deep ways that night.

We just worked really hard and really long! My jeans are coated in wood glue, my jacket is choked with sawdust, my body is drooping from late nights and strenuous days, my expectations are missing hang-out time with friends, my head is bursting with concert prep, my second house and second family are seeming ever more like home and brothers and parents . . . and I'm going back Friday afternoon :-)

Once again, check Flickr for pictures. They will give you a good idea of the chronology and events of the weekend. At least go see me drilling into my ear and check out the slick-looking sub cabs :-)

I will journal some chronological details in the next few days to bring this trip to distinction in my future memories, but for now, this really sums it up. Go look at the pictures!

--Clear Ambassador

Update from the co-op

Some news from work:

• Last Friday I sent my 150th email of the semester.
• Today I stapled the best staple I've ever stapled.
  No joke! I had removed a premature staple and was now restapling it correctly. But I never like the gaping holes left behind a rescinded staple, so I tried to line it up the new one to go in the same spot (always hard to do). *Squint* . . ~aim~ . . . #chunk# ..I looked at it, blew away any stray flecks, and breathed aloud to the listening stacks of papers and the watching computer screen, "I dare say that's the finest I've ever stapled." My friend, a forensic engineer could not tell that manifest had been stapled twice!! *sigh* I can now retire at the top of my profession.
• The best part about work this Friday is that it won't be!
  (Meaning I'm taking Friday off to go up to Akron and get ready for Saturday's big concert.)

Peace

--Clear Ambassador

Those who want it too much...

Right now I'm seriously butting up against discouragement and hopelessness. For the last few days, building on the last few weeks and months, I've seen lack everywhere I turn: I go to work and fight my confounding laziness; I go hang out with folks from Church and see my cold unfriendliness and disconnection from people; I go home at night and see a room full of stuff mocking me for not cleaning it up and taking care of it; I go to class and see tight social circles that I am utterly removed from; I wake up in the morning cursing myself for staying up hours and hours too late and sleeping an hour later than I'd hoped; I hear music, and my heart cries because I can't make music that good; I go downstairs to record, and walk away deeply frustrated by the limitations of my equipment and mostly the grinding limitations of my musical abilities and skills; I look in the mirror and see the blackish-blue below my eyes and a face covered with zits; I talk to Dad, and I see a life that should be strong and upright for God, and is instead hunched over like I am now in my chair, corroding away in its own feelings and neglecting what's of true importance.

The challenge is to look to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising its shame, and is now lifted up at the right hand of the Father (Hebrew 12:1-2, roughly). This is true. And it can make me happy, or joyful. But still these areas seem to go on unaddressed, and I wonder right now about the overall state of my life. Still, it's true.

Something I've seen poignantly lately is a life principle, a staple of good stories (and probably an ancient Chinese proverb :-P): Those who want it too much can't have it. I always think of Hank the Cowdog on this topic, especially that night in the house when Little Alfred was going to give him a strip of bacon, and he tries so hard to get it that he wakes up the parents, they go skittering into another room to hide, the bacon disappears, and Drover ends up chomping it down. Hank craves the bacon like none other, but he's so calculating and (falsely) smart in getting it that he screws it up, and quiet, dumb little Drover (who isn't nearly as dumb as he or Hank thinks) opportunistically and simply nabs it.

This analogy doesn't cover all situations, but you get the idea I hope. I want to travel the world. Reading Kayte Bell's accounts of her times in Cairo right now has made my heart ache and yearn for the rich, challenging, paradigm-shifting experiences she writes about. I so wish I was that kind of person, that I had done such things. Semester at Sea could have been like that, but I conducted myself in semi isolation the whole time, both from my shipmates and from the people in the countries I visited (Getting back to that coldness and disconnection I mentioned above). Basically, I want to travel so badly that I can't imagine God actually letting it happen, 'cause I'd go nuts with pride and idolatry over it. And even from a humanistic point of view, I'd be trying to make myself into something, trying to prove something to myself and others... I don't think I would enjoy it and enter in to it like I should.

Ugh. I'm always up above stuff, looking, thinking, analyzing, calculating...and that seems to take a lot of things away from me, even as it brings some benefits. It's just hard for me to enter in to almost anything--joking with people, chilling with a group, traveling somewhere, recording music... All are stunted by the intelligence and analysis that are trying so hard to procure them!

The spiritual version of this is basically that when we seek our own way, for pride, selfishness, idolatry and self-glorification, we screw everything up, we can't enjoy what we craved so much, we mar God's gifts, and we ram up into God's resistance of the proud. The only solution, the only place I can look around here that doesn't lead me to despair, the way out that the World doesn't know, is to just drop your pride and your quest for glory. Why do I want to travel? Because I deeply admire those who have traveled and lived in other countries and I want to admire myself that way. Why do I want to be a popular, cool, person in groups? Because I'm not like that, and I think people who are like that are way cool, and I want to be way cool myself. Why do I want to record great music down in my basement? Because I have an almost mystical wonder at the people and processes who make the music that stirs my soul, and I want to be the object of that kind of wonder myself. Every one of these areas roots from me trying to make much of myself. Period.

All around me I see people getting and enjoying what I really really want. There are more examples even than I have given here. But I am coveting my neighbor's things, I'm worshipping another god before God Almighty, and I'm wishing to be worshipped myself. I think I'm feeling the weight of God's resistance right now, and my bright mind also sees clearly the worldly wisdom that says that those who want it too much can't have it. Or, put more simply, "too smart for your own good." (Though that brings into question the validity of the purported smartness, methinks.)

I see the solution, but still I struggle to let this glorious picture of myself, which is rooted deep deep in my soul, come crashing down. What's left of me is a piece of lazy, unimpressive, unaccomplished, unskilled and unadmired crap. But dangitall, that's what I am (till I see Christ and so become like Him, hallelujah!), and it's frikkin' not about me! Don't you see that, idiot? Geez. So I return to a prayer I came up with earlier this year, and that apparently I haven't been praying nearly enough :-)

Lord, help me to enjoy You making much of Yourself.

--Clear Ambassador