Today I went through six outfits. The first was what I woke up in - sleepy pants and a T-shirt. Then I hurriedly got dressed and rushed out to get a coconut and a pineapple at Shop 'n' Save and costume materials at the thrift store. That was grey painter pants, "I'm a Pepper" T-shirt and the leather jacket. Then I got home, decided I wouldn't stay at Pitt between my 11am meeting with Career Services and the honors convocation at 1:45, and threw on my new Aero khakis, dark blue button-up shirt with the vertical grey stripes (one of my current favorites), leather jacket, and Pumas. Then I got home, cut up pineapple, and changed into my interview suit. Ahhhhh. Convocation, long and numerous speeches, backwoods way home, and then the "holding pattern" outfit before I put my Luke Skywalker costume together: same khakis, white T and blue long-sleeve T from the Harveys. The Skywalker outfit was lighter khakis, stocking-like wraps around akles and feet, big baggy off-white sweater with the collar and cuffs cut off, and a tunic-ish piece of canvas wrapped around my shoulders and tucked in under a belt. It felt weird and I wasn't thrilled with it, but word on the street is it was pretty sweet :-) And the last outfit is this, which is the same, minus the feet wraps and tunic thingey.
Not many days see me changing that much.
I like putting outfits together, trying to get stuff that I think looks cool or nifty, and trying to get things that look cohesive together. Enjoyable to think about and work on.
Today was the first time I have ever really felt someone enjoying my music. I've heard about people liking it and listening to it at home or singing along, and goodness knows I've played guitar a million times at various gatherings and hang-outings, but today was different. I sat around in the Pierson's living room and played a bunch of old songs from Elvis and Hank Williams and the Beatles from a new songbook with some Q's and Piersons listening and Mitchell keeping up on some bongos. I played one song of my own, which Mr. Pierson liked, but there's nothing like the way people enjoy old favorites like Hey Jude or "The Times They Are A-Changin'." It was a really nice time--flopped around the room, playing, singing, listening, and finding my way through familiar songs guided by my wonderful new songbook (lyricbook, actually). Mr. Pierson really enjoyed it, and said so, and that was very cool. I know I love sitting here on the hearth with a low fire and no lights playing Danny Boy or some old Hank Williams, singing to the silence and abiding in the music, so it was kind of amazing to be able to do that for somebody else. It's a feeling I want to chase.
My mind is in a bit of conflict, though. In the last few months I've grown to love playing those old songs, and when I'm singing it's like I'm singing right from my soul, even if it's a song about being long-gone-lonesome-blue after your lover left you. But they're somebody else's songs, and I have traditionally put far more value and weight on what I myself can produce. So why does it feel so "productive" to sing those songs? Why doesn't it feel like artistic hypocrisy to sink into something somebody else wrote and sing it and feel it like it's my own?
For one thing, regardless of analysis, I think I'm understanding better the value and artistic solidity of singers--something I've traditionally sneered upon. I think there's more than I thought to taking and owning a song and singing it out in a way that affects other people.
For another thing, I know practically it takes a fair amount of time and many listens to grow to truly love a song, even if it's a very good song. So, even if all my songs were as good as Hank Williams, nobody would care until they'd heard them a bunch. It's pragmatically unrealistic to expect people to enjoy and "sink down into" songs I've written which they're hearing for one of the first times. Playing standards connects me to the profound and deep associations that people have with music from their past. There are a couple people on this earth for whom one of my songs might be like that, but other than that, I'm several wide tiers below something like "Heartbreak Hotel."
So... as I keep coming to in regards to music, most of what is lacking in my stuff is out of my control. I can't make people hear and love my songs and develop years of experience with them. So what can I do? I can keep writing songs. What's my one hope of writing a song that has the potential to be loved? To write another song. It might be the one. And it is definitely a step on the way. If you write 100 genuine songs, you've got a good chance of having one or two truly good ones in the bunch.
And lastly, I want to do this more! I want to be able to create that peace and serenity that comes when you sink down into the music that's playing and mouth the words and let the time pass by pleasantly. The power to make someone happy or peaceful, or excited or jolly, is an amazing thing. I think it's what drives comedians and performers and bands and writers and artists of all molds, and I think I've gotten a little taste of it. Would that I could make my living doing such.
Pineapple - $4
Coconut - $3
Thrift Store stuff - $10
36 miles of driving - $3 of gas
Cost of the day's activities: $20
Living is expensive.
--Clear Ambassador
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Categorically Pleased
For those who don't use Facebook, here's word of a new song I wrote in response to the sentiments expressed about the Cabin Fever Festival. I came up with it Monday night and recorded a simple playing-singing demo at about 3am. I think the writing was blessed by God, 'cause the song's in about 6 different keys, and it's quite free from the verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus confines of most of my writing. The key thing is especially amazing. I have lamented countless times my seemingly inescapable bondage to I-IV-V chords, and stared longingly through the window at stuff like Beatles songs that effortlessly move from G to Bb to F# and back again. Now I find myself possessor of such a song, and it's sweet!
I'm also happy with it because it's a happy, peppy song, as opposed to the soft sensitive fare I usually spit out. The words do a good job expressing how I felt Sunday night--enough specifics ("My boring heart has been overcome," "I got to see what your plans had become") to give substance to the feelings, but not so much that it becomes cheesy or unrelatable. Oh, and the whole song was written and recorded on the little baby guitar I bought at the rummage sale last month :-)
So, yeah: I'm categorically delighted with this song! The link is below. There are a few botched chords and one extended "yeah" during a page turn, but it captures the song quite well. Enjoy!
All the Things that You've Done
And also, I've updated about 12 of the songs on my website with better mixes. In particular, Brother, On My Side, End of the Day, Slips Away and Traveling Far Into the Night are much improved. There's still plenty of work to do, but they're better.
--Clear Ambassador
I'm also happy with it because it's a happy, peppy song, as opposed to the soft sensitive fare I usually spit out. The words do a good job expressing how I felt Sunday night--enough specifics ("My boring heart has been overcome," "I got to see what your plans had become") to give substance to the feelings, but not so much that it becomes cheesy or unrelatable. Oh, and the whole song was written and recorded on the little baby guitar I bought at the rummage sale last month :-)
So, yeah: I'm categorically delighted with this song! The link is below. There are a few botched chords and one extended "yeah" during a page turn, but it captures the song quite well. Enjoy!
All the Things that You've Done
And also, I've updated about 12 of the songs on my website with better mixes. In particular, Brother, On My Side, End of the Day, Slips Away and Traveling Far Into the Night are much improved. There's still plenty of work to do, but they're better.
--Clear Ambassador
Monday, February 19, 2007
For Future Self
Today Mom woke me up out of a sound sleep at 1:15. I popped up, disconcerted that I had slept away so much of the day. I guess Sunday was more tiring than I had realized. I jumped up, grabbed my cell phone (whose alarm I had apparently somnolently shut off), ran upstairs and sat in the sunshine in the living room to figure out what to do with the day and week. My trusty sheet of 8.5 x 11 paper was soon covered. It's amazing how much there is to do when you aren't doing anything.
I got all my starred items done. Yay.
I laboriously drank a bottle of coconut soda. Not soon to be repeated.
There's a costume party Friday. Yay! What should I dress as?
I HATE MY RECORDINGS AND MY VOCALS!!! I can't even express my disgust after listening to my second complete recording of "When You Were In Love." I feel helpless at the feet of my garbage voice. No matter how much I feel what I'm singing, it comes out shaky, weak and off-pitch. It's kicking me in the face right now. How can it be so easy sometimes, and so gratingly hard other times?
Last Friday I experienced the marvelous art of dentistry. I went in to get a little pothole cavity filled, but the real work was in cleaning out and bonding two depressions in my next-to-front upper teeth (which probably came from braces). He also bonded the tooth I chipped playing basketball years ago. It's amazing--I looked in a mirror right after he finished, and couldn't even tell where he'd been working. And it's so nice having a tip to that tooth again! I keep feeling it's wonderful smoothness with my tongue :-) So, yay for dentists. Covering and replacing stuff like that is basically sculpting, with a flat-edged thingey instead of a chisel, and in a mouth instead of a studio.
We've made several major changes to the house in the past month. The first was getting a new kitchen table (at last!). No more dark formica four-leg in the light oak kitchen. Now we have an exactly-matching light oak trestle table with sweet sweet chairs. We got rid of the big cheap computer/file desk and now the flat screen is on Mom's old white school desk, which takes up less than half the room, leaving the area gloriously open. The chairs have vertical "bars" on the back, and they look so cool around the table! Evokes a feeling similar to that of seeing yuccas or wild oats in landscaping (both of which I really like).
THEN, we got a couch in the basement! We took out the big honkin' school table, put the weight bench next to the elliptical, put Dad's desk where Mom's used to be, and put the couch against the east wall. This leaves the space in front of the treadmill open (until we put the old computer desk there. BOOOO) and a wonderful wide strip of floor between the weight bench and the drumset. Which I was able to move out and over a few inches and re-set-up. It's lovely now--all compact, big and glistening. The couch is so sweet, and there's such an open feel, I just love being down there. Ahh, it makes me happy every time I look around.
I think that does it. I still need to read some Psalms and pray. Thus endeth a random and poorly-written slice of life. This is definitely a for-future-self post :-)
--Clear Ambassador
I got all my starred items done. Yay.
I laboriously drank a bottle of coconut soda. Not soon to be repeated.
There's a costume party Friday. Yay! What should I dress as?
I HATE MY RECORDINGS AND MY VOCALS!!! I can't even express my disgust after listening to my second complete recording of "When You Were In Love." I feel helpless at the feet of my garbage voice. No matter how much I feel what I'm singing, it comes out shaky, weak and off-pitch. It's kicking me in the face right now. How can it be so easy sometimes, and so gratingly hard other times?
Last Friday I experienced the marvelous art of dentistry. I went in to get a little pothole cavity filled, but the real work was in cleaning out and bonding two depressions in my next-to-front upper teeth (which probably came from braces). He also bonded the tooth I chipped playing basketball years ago. It's amazing--I looked in a mirror right after he finished, and couldn't even tell where he'd been working. And it's so nice having a tip to that tooth again! I keep feeling it's wonderful smoothness with my tongue :-) So, yay for dentists. Covering and replacing stuff like that is basically sculpting, with a flat-edged thingey instead of a chisel, and in a mouth instead of a studio.
We've made several major changes to the house in the past month. The first was getting a new kitchen table (at last!). No more dark formica four-leg in the light oak kitchen. Now we have an exactly-matching light oak trestle table with sweet sweet chairs. We got rid of the big cheap computer/file desk and now the flat screen is on Mom's old white school desk, which takes up less than half the room, leaving the area gloriously open. The chairs have vertical "bars" on the back, and they look so cool around the table! Evokes a feeling similar to that of seeing yuccas or wild oats in landscaping (both of which I really like).
THEN, we got a couch in the basement! We took out the big honkin' school table, put the weight bench next to the elliptical, put Dad's desk where Mom's used to be, and put the couch against the east wall. This leaves the space in front of the treadmill open (until we put the old computer desk there. BOOOO) and a wonderful wide strip of floor between the weight bench and the drumset. Which I was able to move out and over a few inches and re-set-up. It's lovely now--all compact, big and glistening. The couch is so sweet, and there's such an open feel, I just love being down there. Ahh, it makes me happy every time I look around.
I think that does it. I still need to read some Psalms and pray. Thus endeth a random and poorly-written slice of life. This is definitely a for-future-self post :-)
--Clear Ambassador
Cabin Fever Festival
John just finished eating his left arm, and is consequently full of himself.
I thought of that a few days ago, but had nowhere to put it since Facebook statuses must be worded in the third-person present tense. Now it serves as a clever attention-grabbing intro to what I was going to start this post with:
I am full.
But not full of myself, as would normally be the case. I'm full of God. It happened over the course of about 90 minutes. I didn't go out with all the YPCG'ers (Youth Parent Care Groupers) and Akron kids Saturday handing out hot chocolate or going door-to-door giving out "Cabin fever survival packets." I didn't skip care group for the prayer and worship time Friday night that kicked off their "mission trip" here to serve our church. I watched Hitch with Daniel and Justin Saturday after setup at the Middle School, so I didn't get to hear the debrief from the day's outreach. I was 100% occupied with the music during the whole festival Sunday after church, and I didn't even sit with any of the kids from Akron Saturday night or tonight at Cici's. So I was feeling quite removed and outside the whole event. I didn't even go hang at the Pierson's after teardown this afternoon! I drove Daniel back home, unloaded the van-full of heavy music equipment, and flopped heavily into this chair to check some email, wondering why I was thinking of driving 45 minutes to Bridgeville to pay $5 for more pizza and more outsidefeelingness. But I went, thinking I was being a stubborn fool as I slipped and slid across the snow-caked roads in the brittle cold.
The pizza was good; I got to listen to Mr. Pierson and Bob talk about high-level stuff, and the Dr.Pepper was fine (though the ice was still lousy). During the debrief back at the presbyterian church I slowly began to see the sea of faces light up into hearts alive to God. Bob kept at the kids, finally whittling it down to calling out single words to describe the day, how they felt, what they saw in God, and what of God they wanted to take back home. He was fantastic at leading and prodding the group, and the picture began to fade in on the polaroid film in my head. Semi-sullen teen faces I'd seen swirling cotton candy out of a shivering machine or setting up pop bottle bowling pins in the IMS cafeteria were now talking about God--a God they had just seen and felt in action. Bob was ebullient at seemly every word the kids said. My cynical conclusions slowly began to change as I saw his genuine excitement and began to think about what was actually being said, and what it meant. Then we adjourned as churches to different rooms to write names down on our white stones (little reminders of eternity, based on the white stone God will give us at the end of this world with our own name on it). Mr. Pierson did it by having our group toss out "names" (and attending explanations) for each person in turn. Danielle wrote them all down, and we determined one for Katie to write on the stone (with her fine Calano handwriting and a fine fine-tipped Sharpie).
We started with Mr. Pierson, he picked me next, and then we proceeded around the circle, each turn lifting a veil off of a "kid" and showing the amazing and alive work of God underneath. Ah, how stupid am I to have such a veil in the first place! People like Mr. Pierson and Shannon see such good in others! But regardless, there were so many great traits and touching explanations brought up by every body in that room that I left packed full and overflowing with the work of God in this group of kids. To see how different acts affected people in peculiar ways, and how such acts and behaviors were internalized by others . . . it left me laughing at my penchant for feeling that things can't work without me :-) There's something behind this group and it's driving from below and inside, pushing out leadership and friendliness and kindness from shy, quiet, selfish 14-year-olds. I want to go to every YPCG meeting from now on! I want to keep seeing that work going on, so opposite my highly intelligent unbelief.
I want to remember how I feel right now. I want to remember that experience of singing worship songs when we readjourned -- not singing "Great is the Lord" because it was up on the screen, but because I was flat-out amazed at the ridiculous and impossible things He had just done! Maybe, maybe this is a touch of the taste of God that I've been crying out for. I just thought of that. It wasn't an inescapable burning of my soul in the solutide of the night, but it was real, and it surpassed the inveterate plains of this pedestrian life that have left me faithless and lifeless in so many ways.
It was great! I'm so glad I went! I want more of God! I want to see more of His working, and I want to see what He has around the next bend in the road.
I've waxed rather grandiose in language here, but there really was a fire of amazement when we left that room in the big ol' Westminster Presbyterian Church in Upper Saint Claire. I pretty much just grabbed Wes Taylor by the shoulders and vented my excitement at what God was doing in the group :-) It's exciting, and I'm just filled with love for Mr. Pierson, for the guys in the youth group, and I guess for the God who breathes sparkling life into all of these people.
It was also really cool tonight when we got home. I hung around and talked to the 3 guys who are staying here (Plus an adult, Marty, who went to bed shortly after catching up on ESPN :-) ), who had a lot of questions and comments about music and my gear. Once again, these bland teenagers came to life before me. It hurts to say it so forthrightly, but that's how evil and cynical my heart is. We talked about instruments, they wanted to go see my studio downstairs, and we carried on a great conversation over the plentiful snacks laid out on the counter. It was also remarkable because I think subtly I had their respect, since I'd been up jamming with Justin and Daniel all afternoon, hashing out sweet stuff (speaking objectively here) on electric guitar in front of a bunch of impressive amps and gear. It's so rare that I feel anything but coming-from-behind with [what I consider] my peers that it leaves a strong mark on my memory. It's not a particularly useful, accurate or Kingdom-advancing thing, but it was noteworthy. And revelatory: A) They're not bland teenagers. B) I actually am a bit older than highschoolers.
Last thing: One other aspect of amazement from the meeting. What do you think my name was? What do you think this self-absorbed, ghastly-judgmental, distracted, music-obsessed cynic was described as?
"Worshipper"
Two years ago (I think.. roughly) I stepped off the worship team because all I was doing was playing my instrument.
I MEAN LOOK AT IT!! Apparently even that stepping off had an effect on some people because of its supposed humility. Hah! Man, how God works to advance His will through the very sin-soaked actions of his foolish, belligerent people! How two years of deep sin and dryness can be to some a testimony of humility and worship! How we are CLOTHED with righteousness and REDEEMED from destruction and WASHED from sin and FORGIVEN of pride and COVERED with the shining radiance of God's very Son!
How great is our God.
--Clear Ambassador
I thought of that a few days ago, but had nowhere to put it since Facebook statuses must be worded in the third-person present tense. Now it serves as a clever attention-grabbing intro to what I was going to start this post with:
I am full.
But not full of myself, as would normally be the case. I'm full of God. It happened over the course of about 90 minutes. I didn't go out with all the YPCG'ers (Youth Parent Care Groupers) and Akron kids Saturday handing out hot chocolate or going door-to-door giving out "Cabin fever survival packets." I didn't skip care group for the prayer and worship time Friday night that kicked off their "mission trip" here to serve our church. I watched Hitch with Daniel and Justin Saturday after setup at the Middle School, so I didn't get to hear the debrief from the day's outreach. I was 100% occupied with the music during the whole festival Sunday after church, and I didn't even sit with any of the kids from Akron Saturday night or tonight at Cici's. So I was feeling quite removed and outside the whole event. I didn't even go hang at the Pierson's after teardown this afternoon! I drove Daniel back home, unloaded the van-full of heavy music equipment, and flopped heavily into this chair to check some email, wondering why I was thinking of driving 45 minutes to Bridgeville to pay $5 for more pizza and more outsidefeelingness. But I went, thinking I was being a stubborn fool as I slipped and slid across the snow-caked roads in the brittle cold.
The pizza was good; I got to listen to Mr. Pierson and Bob talk about high-level stuff, and the Dr.Pepper was fine (though the ice was still lousy). During the debrief back at the presbyterian church I slowly began to see the sea of faces light up into hearts alive to God. Bob kept at the kids, finally whittling it down to calling out single words to describe the day, how they felt, what they saw in God, and what of God they wanted to take back home. He was fantastic at leading and prodding the group, and the picture began to fade in on the polaroid film in my head. Semi-sullen teen faces I'd seen swirling cotton candy out of a shivering machine or setting up pop bottle bowling pins in the IMS cafeteria were now talking about God--a God they had just seen and felt in action. Bob was ebullient at seemly every word the kids said. My cynical conclusions slowly began to change as I saw his genuine excitement and began to think about what was actually being said, and what it meant. Then we adjourned as churches to different rooms to write names down on our white stones (little reminders of eternity, based on the white stone God will give us at the end of this world with our own name on it). Mr. Pierson did it by having our group toss out "names" (and attending explanations) for each person in turn. Danielle wrote them all down, and we determined one for Katie to write on the stone (with her fine Calano handwriting and a fine fine-tipped Sharpie).
We started with Mr. Pierson, he picked me next, and then we proceeded around the circle, each turn lifting a veil off of a "kid" and showing the amazing and alive work of God underneath. Ah, how stupid am I to have such a veil in the first place! People like Mr. Pierson and Shannon see such good in others! But regardless, there were so many great traits and touching explanations brought up by every body in that room that I left packed full and overflowing with the work of God in this group of kids. To see how different acts affected people in peculiar ways, and how such acts and behaviors were internalized by others . . . it left me laughing at my penchant for feeling that things can't work without me :-) There's something behind this group and it's driving from below and inside, pushing out leadership and friendliness and kindness from shy, quiet, selfish 14-year-olds. I want to go to every YPCG meeting from now on! I want to keep seeing that work going on, so opposite my highly intelligent unbelief.
I want to remember how I feel right now. I want to remember that experience of singing worship songs when we readjourned -- not singing "Great is the Lord" because it was up on the screen, but because I was flat-out amazed at the ridiculous and impossible things He had just done! Maybe, maybe this is a touch of the taste of God that I've been crying out for. I just thought of that. It wasn't an inescapable burning of my soul in the solutide of the night, but it was real, and it surpassed the inveterate plains of this pedestrian life that have left me faithless and lifeless in so many ways.
It was great! I'm so glad I went! I want more of God! I want to see more of His working, and I want to see what He has around the next bend in the road.
I've waxed rather grandiose in language here, but there really was a fire of amazement when we left that room in the big ol' Westminster Presbyterian Church in Upper Saint Claire. I pretty much just grabbed Wes Taylor by the shoulders and vented my excitement at what God was doing in the group :-) It's exciting, and I'm just filled with love for Mr. Pierson, for the guys in the youth group, and I guess for the God who breathes sparkling life into all of these people.
It was also really cool tonight when we got home. I hung around and talked to the 3 guys who are staying here (Plus an adult, Marty, who went to bed shortly after catching up on ESPN :-) ), who had a lot of questions and comments about music and my gear. Once again, these bland teenagers came to life before me. It hurts to say it so forthrightly, but that's how evil and cynical my heart is. We talked about instruments, they wanted to go see my studio downstairs, and we carried on a great conversation over the plentiful snacks laid out on the counter. It was also remarkable because I think subtly I had their respect, since I'd been up jamming with Justin and Daniel all afternoon, hashing out sweet stuff (speaking objectively here) on electric guitar in front of a bunch of impressive amps and gear. It's so rare that I feel anything but coming-from-behind with [what I consider] my peers that it leaves a strong mark on my memory. It's not a particularly useful, accurate or Kingdom-advancing thing, but it was noteworthy. And revelatory: A) They're not bland teenagers. B) I actually am a bit older than highschoolers.
Last thing: One other aspect of amazement from the meeting. What do you think my name was? What do you think this self-absorbed, ghastly-judgmental, distracted, music-obsessed cynic was described as?
"Worshipper"
Two years ago (I think.. roughly) I stepped off the worship team because all I was doing was playing my instrument.
I MEAN LOOK AT IT!! Apparently even that stepping off had an effect on some people because of its supposed humility. Hah! Man, how God works to advance His will through the very sin-soaked actions of his foolish, belligerent people! How two years of deep sin and dryness can be to some a testimony of humility and worship! How we are CLOTHED with righteousness and REDEEMED from destruction and WASHED from sin and FORGIVEN of pride and COVERED with the shining radiance of God's very Son!
How great is our God.
--Clear Ambassador
Saturday, February 10, 2007
"Life" Magazine
Wow people. I just lost 36 minutes of work prying through my heart and mind writing about what's been going on these last months. As the mouse froze and turned to an hourglass I prayed before God and spoke to myself the smallness of 36 minutes of my time and the goodness of God, but it still hurts inside. Down an inch below my solar plexus, right where it twists like a burning knot when I get angry. It feels wrong to let that go. Anger is a mystery, but when that little knot twists and burns, it destroys all knowledge, thought, feeling and desire before its cry to express itself. The more you let it out, though, the bigger it gets and the more has to come out. It's a strange thing, and totally mysterious to some people, like Daniel. Thankfully he'll rarely if ever have to know the pain of shutting that up and letting it go before God. The pain of admitting that you're small and have no legitimate claim upon such self righteousness and wrath. The pain of letting that burning knot smoulder away like a missed opportunity. I think in some ways that's the crux of humility. Right in that moment admitting, in an enormously practical way, that you're not important. I'm guessing that other people come to that crux in different, but equally as agonizing, ways. In fact I'm sure, 'cause otherwise I would have a genuine claim on some self pity.
So. There's a paragraph I didn't plan to write! Now you know what it's like to be an angry person. It sucks. Don't try it.
Life right now is ridiculously great. I have no job, no school of any kind, a big comfy roof over my head, expensive, healthy and tasty food in the kitchen, a killer car, and a couple thousand bucks to pay for the car and any trifling amenities I may choose to buy to suit my passing fancy. I know this is an unrealistic and fleeting period, so I am trying to enjoy it (not hard) and utilize it (not easy) as much as possible. Basically, if I don't get things done now, when I have ALL the time in the world (literally. Every one of the day's 24 hours is mine), then I really am a complete fool and screwed for life.
So, I made lists on blank sheets of white paper (the only way I operate), starred important items, and crossed 'em off, one by one, day after day. I got a lot of annoying stupid simple little things done like scheduling a dentist appointment. That seriously took me 4 months to do, people. I'm an idiot. New wiper blades and battery for Pepsi Blue (ohhh, how it cranks that cold engine! Ahhhh); calls made, emails sent, room cleaned... there were some solid weeks. I went to Akron twice in January and once so far in February. It felt nice to be on top of things. I've even been reading the Bible - 5 Psalms a day and I'm keeping up. I'm speaking in past tense 'cause right now I feel like I'm careening again. But whatever. I'm not giving up, and there isn't a good way to talk more on that without digressing. Reading the Bible has been good. It paid off more quickly than I thought. Getting some real truth input is satisfying and restful in a kind of deep way, and I've even desired a few times to read the Bible over stuff like TV or Facebook. I think it's like working out - a hard habit to form that will always be easy to slip out of and builds in time to where you wish it could be right away. So I'm sticking with it, and praying what I prayed at the Men's Retreat: that I wouldn't be alone in this battle. Christ is what I seek and what I need, and what I've never really had. I think praying tooth and nail is the only thing that's going to keep this time from being just another spritual bump in the road of failure. It seems crazy that my life could genuinely change, and I could actually read the Bible and live under God from now on, but for crying out loud, it's got to happen some time, doesn't it?? Life is screwy dude.
Anyway, trips to Akron. I went once right after the New Year, and Justin, Daniel, Heather, Mike and Shannon came too. We took two cars, and everybody else was self-sufficient. I did mostly band stuff, practicing and working out new songs with Brian and Steve-O, while the others hung with the Tuminos or Murphys or Smiths and entertained themselves quite nicely. That was kind of a strange feeling, but it was very nice and restful to not have them be my responsibility. Band stuff went sweet, and we've got some great new songs (City Lights Behind Me, Dog Show, my new one). Then I went back a couple weeks later for a full weekend to try out a possible NEW DRUMMER!
Yes indeed, after speculatin' and ruminatin' about getting a fourth person in the band for years, we realized that Alex Morgan plays drums really well (He won a drum set at last year's Akron drum festival), he's a really nice guy, and he just might fit. We practiced with him that Saturday, and it went brilliantly. We worked out another new song, he had a blast, and it just seemed to work. So we talked about it Sunday down in the Chima's sweet basement, and decided that, barring a couple questions (which he answered himself pretty much), he was in. It was cool, but sobering for me because, well... it's never going to be just me, Brian and Stephen down in the basement again. And it's going to take a LOT of work to get Alex up to speed. I figure it'll take us basically a year before we're in full concert form again (which has taken the three of us 2 years to achieve). It's a lot of work for me, in particular, 'cause my drumming isn't your typical modern emo style, and it's going to take a lot of patient input and steeling myself to musical nonidealities to get things settled. But it's worth it to be up front playing guitar and rocking out :-) Ohh, it's AMAZING! Just glorious to be playing guitar, jumping and running around as I feel inclined, singing like a normal person, and getting into that sweet zone when things are clicking on the guitar and you play good stuff well.
I came up again this past Monday and Tuesday and practice this time was pretty hard. We got bogged down in "Just in Time," we got tired ('cause we ate no food), and things just didn't sound too great. But that's the band. Good times, bad times, and freakin' awesome times. So far Alex has gotten the bad and the freakin' awesome :-) And by the way, we discussed it a bit down in the basement, and I don't think God's calling us to sell out and haul butt with the band, so it'll be staying just a nice hobby and fun thing for friends. Unless God has a record deal out there. And then I'm gone like diddy-kong :-D
Akron is cool. Steve is a great friend. Philip is fun and funny. The Hoffman's mini pool table is GREAT :-) It's fun to watch people grow up and mature, to get to know folks better, to talk with the adults at church, to drive across Milton Lake on the way down, to have Philip laugh at my stupid jokes, to let the day unfurl unencumbered, and to sit down in the basement and hash out new music with Steve-O. We did that a ton last time I was up, and it was great. Just sitting around for hours passing the guitar between us, blurting out ideas, shutting up and listening to creativity outside of yourself, singing lyrics off the top of your head that form a perfect song, abiding with the music, and having a song grow as you let it settle down into your consciousness. We have a new song that's just me on acoustic and Steve on violin, and it's killer! I love that we keep writing songs, and they seem to be getting better and staying creative. I doubt we'll ever get that raw, simple directness of "Hypothesis," but our stuff will sound a lot better and be much more presentable.
On to the job.
When one has spent four years working hard to get a degree in chemical engineering, one should probably start making 60 grand a year off of it. Especially when one was just shy of a 4.0, and when one wants to get married as soon as God wills. However, I am currently at a standstill, face to face with the curse on mankind, that we will till the earth by the sweat of our brows. Quite truly, work sucks. It's hard! Engineering jobs are really hard! You know how much effort and involvment it takes to remodel a room or buy a new car? That's what we do all day every day, just with stuff that's more complicated. Forty years of that is a bit daunting.
But more than that, I'm facing forty years of never getting everything done that needs to be done. I've seen it with Dad, and I've lived it myself during busy semesters: Life in middle class America contains 2 to 3 times more things to do than time to do them. It's not a cliche or "busyness," it's an endless, tumbling, careening stream of undone, unfinished, and unmet mess. You get the paycheck, you pay the bills, you help with Exploring Christianity 'cause they need people, you go out with your wife Friday night, and the basement walls remain dirty and unfinished, the busted garage door opener sits next to the van, you never replied to that email, and the piles of paper sit like shifty towers in the living room mocking you. You go to bed at night vaguely uneasy at everything in limbo around you, and the next day is gone before you had time to floss, which you really want to start doing! [OK, this paragraph is legions better the second time through. It sucked to lose my previous work, but I knew even then that it has its benefits.]
Sometimes I think I've just missed something and I'm out of place here and I should leave everything and live a dirty simple life in Fiji or Russia. But I think this is just a point in life where I am pausing and I have to make a definitive and conscious decision to dive back in. I'm still bugged by the feeling that all of this is just wrong and we should be able to take care of everything and have a peaceful bottom to life, but, looking over what I just wrote, I think what Dad says is right (this keeps happening! The man is like a wisdom Gobstopper): It's about priorities. In my little scenario above, you make money, you keep the house and food going with the bills, and you invest in your church and marraige. All of those are fundamentally important, while the dirty walls and piles.. aren't. I'm not quite sure what to do with the feelings that keep nagging me, but I think a crazy over-taxed life that leaves behind godly children, a strengthened church, encouraged friends, and a radiant, loved wife is not wrongly lived. I just wish that that could all be done withOUT the craziness and trainwreck.
If God calls me to something different than the path walked by my father before me and his father before him, I am ready and willing. As far as I can know my heart, I am willing to pull up everything and go anywhere, leaving anything behind (friends, home, studio, 4000 songs, car...), if I know it's God's will. And that's where I'm at right now. There are a dozen things I could go do, but I don't know which is the right path to throw myself into. I've been doing a sucky job at pretty much everything, but that's 'cause I never go whole hog into any one thing. I'm splintered up between 4 instruments, 2 cities, 2 albums, engineering, church, family, and peace. I believe that, to some degree, God needs to show me where to go. Dad reminded me that God's after my heart (yieldedness), and He rarely just unveils all his plans to you and lets you run off, but I do think I need some degree of calling and certainty. My job hunting is half-hearted right now 'cause I'm not confident that I should step into a long-term job. I could pursue travel, perhaps some short-term work to fund such travel, perhaps finishing my album, but none of those can happen without dedication and effort, which I can't give them because I don't know if I should. So, I'm praying, and I just know that God will lead me step by step, even if I'm completely blindfolded and all I know is that there's ground under my foot at the moment.
OK, dude, this is all so WEIRD! Think about it! Here I am talking about life, thinking about all these scenarios in my head like they were little computer games or movies. It's my freaking life! It's not a game! It's not hypothetical! It's not something I can just try out or play with! Everybody out there is living their lives, and I'm sitting here like I'm writing a novel. It feels crazy and utterly unreal right now that God could (and pretty much has to) show me what to do, that I could actually go carry out one of these possibilities. I'm irritated that I'm taking this all so lightly. I feel like a kid who doesn't know what he has and thinks the million dollar china plate is a frisbee. But I'm stuck with what I've got, and, once again, I think there's a great well of power in tooth-and-nails prayer. So I'm going to ask God to show me what to do, in whatever timeframe He knows is best. I'm going to seek a job, a career, a calling, and a wife. And I'm going to knock knock knock on Heaven's door until I can taste and see that the Lord is good.
Right now it's all glossy pages of "Life" magazine.
--Clear Ambassador
P.S. Ladies, be glad you're women! Be glad there are men out there who will toil under the curse all of their days and die worn out, tired and frazzled for God and for you.
P.P.S. A cheery and inane story of something that made me very happy: I always love it when I find out that something I said was really funny. Apparently I made a comment during our first practice with Alex that was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard. We were talking about the tradeoffs of recording in my studio versus Mike's, which is analog (meaning sound is recorded directly onto magnetic tape, never chopped up and digitized and stuck into a computer). Mine is vastly easier to use, but Mike's analog rig gets 100% pro sound quality. So Steve said maybe we could record everything on my studio, mix it down, dump it to a halftrack tape reel, and "turn up the analog" on it. I rolled in my seat laughing, and tried to explain through gasping breaths why that was perhaps the most ignorant comment Steve had ever made. Eventually I reached for an analogy and said"it was like saying "Hey, I want to make this bill, so let's get it into a commitee and **turn up the legislative process**." :-)
So. There's a paragraph I didn't plan to write! Now you know what it's like to be an angry person. It sucks. Don't try it.
Life right now is ridiculously great. I have no job, no school of any kind, a big comfy roof over my head, expensive, healthy and tasty food in the kitchen, a killer car, and a couple thousand bucks to pay for the car and any trifling amenities I may choose to buy to suit my passing fancy. I know this is an unrealistic and fleeting period, so I am trying to enjoy it (not hard) and utilize it (not easy) as much as possible. Basically, if I don't get things done now, when I have ALL the time in the world (literally. Every one of the day's 24 hours is mine), then I really am a complete fool and screwed for life.
So, I made lists on blank sheets of white paper (the only way I operate), starred important items, and crossed 'em off, one by one, day after day. I got a lot of annoying stupid simple little things done like scheduling a dentist appointment. That seriously took me 4 months to do, people. I'm an idiot. New wiper blades and battery for Pepsi Blue (ohhh, how it cranks that cold engine! Ahhhh); calls made, emails sent, room cleaned... there were some solid weeks. I went to Akron twice in January and once so far in February. It felt nice to be on top of things. I've even been reading the Bible - 5 Psalms a day and I'm keeping up. I'm speaking in past tense 'cause right now I feel like I'm careening again. But whatever. I'm not giving up, and there isn't a good way to talk more on that without digressing. Reading the Bible has been good. It paid off more quickly than I thought. Getting some real truth input is satisfying and restful in a kind of deep way, and I've even desired a few times to read the Bible over stuff like TV or Facebook. I think it's like working out - a hard habit to form that will always be easy to slip out of and builds in time to where you wish it could be right away. So I'm sticking with it, and praying what I prayed at the Men's Retreat: that I wouldn't be alone in this battle. Christ is what I seek and what I need, and what I've never really had. I think praying tooth and nail is the only thing that's going to keep this time from being just another spritual bump in the road of failure. It seems crazy that my life could genuinely change, and I could actually read the Bible and live under God from now on, but for crying out loud, it's got to happen some time, doesn't it?? Life is screwy dude.
Anyway, trips to Akron. I went once right after the New Year, and Justin, Daniel, Heather, Mike and Shannon came too. We took two cars, and everybody else was self-sufficient. I did mostly band stuff, practicing and working out new songs with Brian and Steve-O, while the others hung with the Tuminos or Murphys or Smiths and entertained themselves quite nicely. That was kind of a strange feeling, but it was very nice and restful to not have them be my responsibility. Band stuff went sweet, and we've got some great new songs (City Lights Behind Me, Dog Show, my new one). Then I went back a couple weeks later for a full weekend to try out a possible NEW DRUMMER!
Yes indeed, after speculatin' and ruminatin' about getting a fourth person in the band for years, we realized that Alex Morgan plays drums really well (He won a drum set at last year's Akron drum festival), he's a really nice guy, and he just might fit. We practiced with him that Saturday, and it went brilliantly. We worked out another new song, he had a blast, and it just seemed to work. So we talked about it Sunday down in the Chima's sweet basement, and decided that, barring a couple questions (which he answered himself pretty much), he was in. It was cool, but sobering for me because, well... it's never going to be just me, Brian and Stephen down in the basement again. And it's going to take a LOT of work to get Alex up to speed. I figure it'll take us basically a year before we're in full concert form again (which has taken the three of us 2 years to achieve). It's a lot of work for me, in particular, 'cause my drumming isn't your typical modern emo style, and it's going to take a lot of patient input and steeling myself to musical nonidealities to get things settled. But it's worth it to be up front playing guitar and rocking out :-) Ohh, it's AMAZING! Just glorious to be playing guitar, jumping and running around as I feel inclined, singing like a normal person, and getting into that sweet zone when things are clicking on the guitar and you play good stuff well.
I came up again this past Monday and Tuesday and practice this time was pretty hard. We got bogged down in "Just in Time," we got tired ('cause we ate no food), and things just didn't sound too great. But that's the band. Good times, bad times, and freakin' awesome times. So far Alex has gotten the bad and the freakin' awesome :-) And by the way, we discussed it a bit down in the basement, and I don't think God's calling us to sell out and haul butt with the band, so it'll be staying just a nice hobby and fun thing for friends. Unless God has a record deal out there. And then I'm gone like diddy-kong :-D
Akron is cool. Steve is a great friend. Philip is fun and funny. The Hoffman's mini pool table is GREAT :-) It's fun to watch people grow up and mature, to get to know folks better, to talk with the adults at church, to drive across Milton Lake on the way down, to have Philip laugh at my stupid jokes, to let the day unfurl unencumbered, and to sit down in the basement and hash out new music with Steve-O. We did that a ton last time I was up, and it was great. Just sitting around for hours passing the guitar between us, blurting out ideas, shutting up and listening to creativity outside of yourself, singing lyrics off the top of your head that form a perfect song, abiding with the music, and having a song grow as you let it settle down into your consciousness. We have a new song that's just me on acoustic and Steve on violin, and it's killer! I love that we keep writing songs, and they seem to be getting better and staying creative. I doubt we'll ever get that raw, simple directness of "Hypothesis," but our stuff will sound a lot better and be much more presentable.
On to the job.
When one has spent four years working hard to get a degree in chemical engineering, one should probably start making 60 grand a year off of it. Especially when one was just shy of a 4.0, and when one wants to get married as soon as God wills. However, I am currently at a standstill, face to face with the curse on mankind, that we will till the earth by the sweat of our brows. Quite truly, work sucks. It's hard! Engineering jobs are really hard! You know how much effort and involvment it takes to remodel a room or buy a new car? That's what we do all day every day, just with stuff that's more complicated. Forty years of that is a bit daunting.
But more than that, I'm facing forty years of never getting everything done that needs to be done. I've seen it with Dad, and I've lived it myself during busy semesters: Life in middle class America contains 2 to 3 times more things to do than time to do them. It's not a cliche or "busyness," it's an endless, tumbling, careening stream of undone, unfinished, and unmet mess. You get the paycheck, you pay the bills, you help with Exploring Christianity 'cause they need people, you go out with your wife Friday night, and the basement walls remain dirty and unfinished, the busted garage door opener sits next to the van, you never replied to that email, and the piles of paper sit like shifty towers in the living room mocking you. You go to bed at night vaguely uneasy at everything in limbo around you, and the next day is gone before you had time to floss, which you really want to start doing! [OK, this paragraph is legions better the second time through. It sucked to lose my previous work, but I knew even then that it has its benefits.]
Sometimes I think I've just missed something and I'm out of place here and I should leave everything and live a dirty simple life in Fiji or Russia. But I think this is just a point in life where I am pausing and I have to make a definitive and conscious decision to dive back in. I'm still bugged by the feeling that all of this is just wrong and we should be able to take care of everything and have a peaceful bottom to life, but, looking over what I just wrote, I think what Dad says is right (this keeps happening! The man is like a wisdom Gobstopper): It's about priorities. In my little scenario above, you make money, you keep the house and food going with the bills, and you invest in your church and marraige. All of those are fundamentally important, while the dirty walls and piles.. aren't. I'm not quite sure what to do with the feelings that keep nagging me, but I think a crazy over-taxed life that leaves behind godly children, a strengthened church, encouraged friends, and a radiant, loved wife is not wrongly lived. I just wish that that could all be done withOUT the craziness and trainwreck.
If God calls me to something different than the path walked by my father before me and his father before him, I am ready and willing. As far as I can know my heart, I am willing to pull up everything and go anywhere, leaving anything behind (friends, home, studio, 4000 songs, car...), if I know it's God's will. And that's where I'm at right now. There are a dozen things I could go do, but I don't know which is the right path to throw myself into. I've been doing a sucky job at pretty much everything, but that's 'cause I never go whole hog into any one thing. I'm splintered up between 4 instruments, 2 cities, 2 albums, engineering, church, family, and peace. I believe that, to some degree, God needs to show me where to go. Dad reminded me that God's after my heart (yieldedness), and He rarely just unveils all his plans to you and lets you run off, but I do think I need some degree of calling and certainty. My job hunting is half-hearted right now 'cause I'm not confident that I should step into a long-term job. I could pursue travel, perhaps some short-term work to fund such travel, perhaps finishing my album, but none of those can happen without dedication and effort, which I can't give them because I don't know if I should. So, I'm praying, and I just know that God will lead me step by step, even if I'm completely blindfolded and all I know is that there's ground under my foot at the moment.
OK, dude, this is all so WEIRD! Think about it! Here I am talking about life, thinking about all these scenarios in my head like they were little computer games or movies. It's my freaking life! It's not a game! It's not hypothetical! It's not something I can just try out or play with! Everybody out there is living their lives, and I'm sitting here like I'm writing a novel. It feels crazy and utterly unreal right now that God could (and pretty much has to) show me what to do, that I could actually go carry out one of these possibilities. I'm irritated that I'm taking this all so lightly. I feel like a kid who doesn't know what he has and thinks the million dollar china plate is a frisbee. But I'm stuck with what I've got, and, once again, I think there's a great well of power in tooth-and-nails prayer. So I'm going to ask God to show me what to do, in whatever timeframe He knows is best. I'm going to seek a job, a career, a calling, and a wife. And I'm going to knock knock knock on Heaven's door until I can taste and see that the Lord is good.
Right now it's all glossy pages of "Life" magazine.
--Clear Ambassador
P.S. Ladies, be glad you're women! Be glad there are men out there who will toil under the curse all of their days and die worn out, tired and frazzled for God and for you.
P.P.S. A cheery and inane story of something that made me very happy: I always love it when I find out that something I said was really funny. Apparently I made a comment during our first practice with Alex that was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard. We were talking about the tradeoffs of recording in my studio versus Mike's, which is analog (meaning sound is recorded directly onto magnetic tape, never chopped up and digitized and stuck into a computer). Mine is vastly easier to use, but Mike's analog rig gets 100% pro sound quality. So Steve said maybe we could record everything on my studio, mix it down, dump it to a halftrack tape reel, and "turn up the analog" on it. I rolled in my seat laughing, and tried to explain through gasping breaths why that was perhaps the most ignorant comment Steve had ever made. Eventually I reached for an analogy and said"it was like saying "Hey, I want to make this bill, so let's get it into a commitee and **turn up the legislative process**." :-)
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