Making the many pay for the mistakes, malice, or muttonheadedness of the few.

That is a ubiquitious part of current America which loads our everyday lives with inconvenience, impersonality, uncommonsense, and an insipid, barely-tangible hostility.

A few children get hurt on metal-bar playground equipment. Some in the normal line of playing, some because they were being idiots. So now we have bulbous plastic playgrounds with staticy slides and toned-down apparati. Every kid in America pays for the injury of a few. Every kid's playground is made a little tamer and blander to guard against the possibility of a few getting hurt.

A few callous fools deface the beautiful hot water pools in a national park. Now every one of the millions of visitors who see that pool each year are kept back 20 feet from its edge. Gone is the simplicity and direct experience of staring into the pool from right next to it. All are held back because of the crimes of a very few.

Email accounts are now a battle against spam, balancing the convenience of keeping a certain account with the ever-increasing amount of junk mail that arrives as time goes by. The spammers (who even ARE theses people????) deleteriously affect the email experience of every user, every day.

A final example is one I am very aware of: On a chair in my boss's office at the chemical plant sits a 8-inch tall stack of printed-out federal regulations. These are merely the applicable selections from the full pool of regs that is available online. Every chemical plant in the nation must follow these myriad rules, and failure to do so is unflinchingly treated as an intended crime, because of abuses of materials handled by plants in the past. Because of the inconsiderate and illadvised actions of plant personnel long in the past, the production of any chemical is saddled by a money-sucking, resource-leeching barrage of stringent regulations. Common sense can not be relied on, because the few people who decided not to use it have brought great penalties to the entire plant for which they worked. Tasks are dumbed-down to an infantile level and insultingly-basic checklists and procedures must be mutely followed, because one mistake has the chance of wreaking devastating havoc on the entire workforce. The chance may literally be a million to one (a sufficiently-large crystal of benzoyl peroxide somehow surviving in a drum of liquid, which could ignite, given the perfect combination of placement and a spark, creating a state-reportable process fire), but the weight of bureaucratic legal penalties that would fall from that eventuality make the "risk" not worth taking.

Our nation has reached a level of prosperity that allows us the luxury of preventing these small-percentage injuries, dangers and problems. But our trump-all concern for the mere possibility that someone could get hurt, or an accident happen again, robs our citizens of the responsibility of exercising their minds to protect themselves and consider their neighbors. We are raising a nation of blame-shifting, irresponsible, victimized, hyper-cautions dumb people, not forced to think for themselves, lest perhaps, oh dear god, they mess up!!

Not all these precautions are bad. Airbags are a very sensible way to cushion the unavoidable forward motion of humans in suddenly-stopped cars. It is indeed very bad when someone dies of asphyxiation from standing next to a nitogen-inerted tank. But what I think our nation is missing is the fact that you cannot prevent all eventualities, and the more you try to shut out, and the more improbable they are, the more freedom and responsibility you must necessarily strip from all people. There is risk to trusting people to take care of themselves, because not everyone will do it right, and sometimes they can hurt others too. But somehow there's a difference between loving our neighbors like the good Samaritan and trying to keep everybody from traveling that road to Jerusalem because there might be robbers there and they could get hurt. The philosophy of law and government seems to be legislating broad, over-compensating edicts to address and prevent specific issues and possibilities. This is not the personal care Christ commanded us to exercise. This is letting the laws do the work for us so we don't have to think or love or look at who's around us and get out of our comfort zone. Find out who's needy in your area and give from your paycheck to help them? Heck of a lot easier to just let the government take a percentage of your paycheck and dole it out nation-wide through welfare and healthcare. Trust parents to teach and care for their kids, and trust kids to learn from the knocks of life? Easier to just make plastic playgrounds so nobody can possibly get hurt.

Ultimately, life is not fair, life is not nice, and life gets people hurt, disadvantaged, and sometimes even killed. We're trying to stop that in America these days, but it can never work, and we're putting greater and greater burdens on everyone, and dumbing down our lives more and more. I fear for the future of this "soft" people, and in some ways I long for the closeness of reality that existed in older days and older cultures. Even if it means I break a leg, or am poor, or die at 30. That's life.

But I like my soft bed and salted roads and protective laws too. This is a hypothetical post, and it touches on something that I, at times, deeply long for, and get very frustrated with. I have to admit--it's easy to say all this from the comfort and safety of my middle-class suburban life. I can't say I'd think the same way if life started really knocking me, or the people I loved, around. Who knows.

This life, this country, this class, and this prosperity, is where God has placed me in His sovereign wisdom at this time. I don't want to disparrage these things and beat myself up, or others. I just want to think, and express what tugs at my heart sometimes.

--Clear Ambassador

Pure Boss Concerts

Friends, family, and fans:

Aight, here's the big news: Pure Boss, after months of productive reticence, is hitting March with a bang: three concerts in a row! If you've wanted to see us play, now is the time, and you've got 3 weekends to choose from :-) And by the way, we've got several new songs, and almost all our old ones have been vastly improved and arranged and rocked-out. Should be kickin' :-)

The gigs are as follows:

Saturday, March 11th at a YMCA in Akron (Cuyahoga Falls), evening.
We're playing a full show kicking off a newly renovated gym. The biggest show we'll be doing. The address is 544 Broad Blvd, Cuyahoga Falls, OH 44221.

Friday, March 17th at an Assembly of God activity center in Akron, at 7pm.
The school at CoG is putting on a benefit concert for a Ukranian orphanage. We're the fourth band playing, and we'll be doing a 50-minute set. The address is:
859 Mull Ave.
Akron, OH 44313
(Near the I-77 White Pont/Mull Ave. exit)
Cost is $5 or a brand new article of teen clothing.

Friday March 24th at The Orange Street, a concert club in Akron.
It's an all-age venue, we're one of six bands playing, and we'll be doing a 30-minute set (rock face baby!!).
The cost is $6 at the door, doors open at 6:30, and we play around 7pm. The address is:
951 N. Main St.
Akron, OH 44310

I'd recommend the CoG benefit concert show 'cause we'll be playing a good-sized set, we'll be experienced from the previous show, and the cost will directly benefit a good cause. But any show you could make it to would be sweet :-) And by the way, Akron is 2 - 2.5 hours from Pittsburgh--a nice drive down I-76 West.

If you've got any more questions, drop an email or give me a call (412-736-1524).

Hope to see you at a show!

--John Behrens
   and
     PURE BOSS

http://www.myspace.com/pureboss
http://www.artistcollaboration.com/~pureboss

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aNOther practice? Sheesh!

Yep. Basically, I realized that we're headlining a full show in two weeks, and next weekend is Daniel's birthday, so it's now or never. We have a totally new setlist with three new songs, and we've gotta be tight, confident, comfortable and competent. So, the plans were laid and on Friday, with a deep breath, I passed the turn for 60 south, pulled into the right lane, and hit the highway for home #2, hoping I wasn't heading for a weekend of burned-out practice and overstretched relationships.

Short story: we didn't.

Slightly longer story: We practiced Friday, everybody else was gone at a dance show, we had mad crazy times with Nick, Josie and his friend Nate at the Chimas that night, slept long, ate Taco Bell, practiced more, practiced more, got food, hung out more at the Chimas, and I drove home.

Mentally protruding points of interest and memory:

Walking in to a house full of girls when I was expecting everybody but Steve to be gone. Then walking up the stairs and in the hall seeing Stephen, with his long mane of shoulder-length wavy hair cut down to a childish-looking mop on top. Crazy thing is...I'd gotten a haircut that week too! Poor Steve--he looks 12 now, and we pounded him endlessly on that! At least I was honest. Everybody else said it looked fine. Pfft :-P

Nick, Josie and Brian seriously acting like we were going to stop practicing at 7:30 on Friday and go hang out. I'm pretty used to dealing with vagrants and those not wishing to buckle down and work, but when Brian started taking off his guitar, I laid down the line. I hate to crack the whip, but there are times when we've gotta work to honor a comittment (playing a gig), and all joking aside, we've gotta practice. And they were cool with that, once it was made clear. Brian especially has given up a ton these last weekends to practice, and that means a lot to me and the band.

The change in Phillip from a 10-year-old little brother to the man chillin' with his man John Behrens after everybody else left. I volunteered to stay home till Scott got back from the show, and let Brian and Steve go hang out. It was just funny to see how Phillip's demeanor changed into something subtly and laughably, yet innocently, pretentious. And I was happy to hang out, play some PS1 and get some Taco Bell with him. Until we got home and for some reason he turned bratty. Then I was happy to leave the house. Ah well; he's still 10 years old :-)

It wasn't a highlight for me or Nick, but for the other guys going to the ghetto McDonalds and meeting a carful of 16-year-old girls who'd tossed them their number at Donato's was the highlight of the weekend. To my dry reasoning eyes it was ridiculously pointless, but they all spazzed out about it, and after they stood in the cold outside my car talking to them (as they sat in their car with the windows open), they spent the rest of the evening talking about it, trying to find them on myspace, talking about it more, texting their cell, and talking about it more. Pfft. I'm so disconnected from that whole scene and concept, it's kinda funny.

Watching Zoolander was sweet, especially 'cause it was Steve's first time. Such a funny movie! So many great quotes! Ahhh :-)

It wasn't so much a highlight, but it was notable: I flopped on the couch midway through Zoolander and ended up not rising from there until noon the next day. Jake (one of the Chima's dogs) was at the head of the couch, and he became my pillow for the entire night. It wasn't too comfortable, and I kept partially awaking, and my back got fairly sore, but sleep was sweet. Ooh, and I didn't brush my teeth, or take off my shoes, or even unclip my cell phone! It felt weird, but I never wanted to stir myself enough to do any of those. And so I slept on, on my breathing pillow.

The SECOND time we ran through the set on Saturday. That was the highlight for me. Steve was rested, he could breathe again (getting over a cold), we were all warmed up and practiced up, and we tore through the songs like it was summer '05 again. I just can hardly think how to describe how sweet it was. Let's look at the drum fills, since they're a good indication of how I'm playing. I toned them down so there were very few "adventurous" ones that mess up, but what I did play flowed out and pounded power into the songs. Steve even noticed them on "Straight from the Nails," which we played fantastically. My limbs were limbered up, my mind was focused, the songs were all fresh in my memory, my foot was rested, Steve's sub was pounding the air in the whole room every time I tapped the kick drum, and I sat upon my throne and commanded the drums with the swinging tips of my sticks--hickory extensions of my musical mind. Our sound was one. The bass amp throbbed, Steve lightened and loosened up once he switched back to his old bass, and Brian worked the guitar tones from my two pedals deftly. We brought the house down with "You Were Everything," hopped and danced to "Summer Song," pounded out "Northeast Tragedy," and when Steve called out "Break it down!" on "Ohio," aahhhh, it just brought a smile to my face. Sweet. Sweet like good scotch and fresh Braeburns. Sweet like deep conversation. Sweet like driving fast on an empty winding road. Sweet like putting something together and watching it actually work. Sweet like I hope and pray and cry that we can play for the actual concert. Oh please, let it go well! Please!

The other high point was probalby me and Steve and Brian hanging around the Chima's barn after dinner at Chipotle tonight and talking. We'd had a great dinner with Nick, good talking and joking, and now we were sitting around heedless of time, freezing in the night air, and sharing stories and asking questions and laughing. I really wanted to stay and watch Zoolander again with them all, but I knew I had to get home, and it was 10:30 already, so off I went. Brian and Nick are great guys, and Steve, of course, is like one of my best friends. In fact, he's probably 3rd on the list, after Daniel and Dad. Funny how that happens.

Anyway, this weekend, like the VSOP I just got, has left a deliciously sweet taste in my mouth. It was just great that Brian was a part of it all--the music, the hanging out, the talking--and that that last run-through was so good. If the sound and technical side is good at the concert, and we can somehow get well warmed-up, we are gonna rock the place and have a blast. Lord, may it be so, and Thy will be done, and thank You for this weekend! Bless church tomorrow please, and help me look to You, Jesus. Amen.

And rock on!

-0-Clear Ambassador-0-

Long Weekend

Hm. Friday afternoon 'till Monday morning in Akron--I looked forward to it for a long time, but when it rolled around it left a little taste of dissipation in my mouth. I think because we didn't have a severe time limit we wasted more time and didn't rip through practices leaving zinging arrangements and resounding tightness in our wake like normal. It sorta started Friday night when we "came up for dinner" from practice at 7:30. When Steve rounded the corner at the top of the stairs he was greeted with a "SURPRISE!!" from the group of friends against the side wall. It has his surprise surprise 18th birthday party! Surprise surprise because he already knew he was getting a surprise party, he just didn't expect it Friday night during practice. That was my doing :-)

So Friday night was filled with a whole lot of people in the Hoffman's house, and random spats of jamming very loudly, playing spoons, giving Steve his guitar (my doing too, with a lot of monetary help from everybody. Best present I could think of to give him.), eating food, drinking Dr.Pepper, talking, taking lots of pictures, playing acoustic guitar, and that certain special kinda wandering around nosing in on groups of talking friends and fishing for something to do or say that characterizes parties in my mind. We ended up in the den with a pared-down group of people singing songs and doing a sort of impromptu Bible charades. Brian was king of that :-) Eventually everyone was gone but me, Brian, John Lavery, Mike and Steve. We kicked around ideas and movies to rent, and finally the Boss Boys ended up driving hurriedly to Blockbuster and careening through the sign-up procedure so we could rent "Dumb and Dumber" to watch. Funny movie yes, but Jim Carrey just weirds me out. *shudder* Lots of funny stuff, though. I don't remember what it was, but I remember at one point being doubled over on the floor rolling into Brian, gagging with laughter. Cressy, mahn.. cressy.

I fell asleep halfway through "Pirates of the Caribbean," and slept till pretty much noon. Sometime in January I broke my watch band, and since then I've been far less aware of time in certain settings. Weird. Sometimes freeing, sometimes frustrating. Anyway, we lazed out of bed, and then pretty much murdered a couple hours eating pancakes (Thank you Mrs. Hoffman! You rock, Mom #2), watching "Pirates," and generally flopping around the den, which was littered with sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, dogs and boys. Finally we rounded ourselves up in the dance room and started practice.

We played around a few standard songs, but mostly focused on "Hit the Wall," a new song by Stephen (and me). We played through it several times, fiddled with the arrangement, and at one point we crashed the final note of the song, and as it rang out looked around at eachother with wide eyes and wide smiles. This is the kind of song that can make a band famous, and we had a KILLER arrangement. There was power in the music, and meaning in the words. Disregarding its preppily cliched overuse, "stoked" is an accurate term for how we felt about that song. God has given it to us, and I'm interested to see where He takes it.

Time was pretty irrelevant Saturday. It felt like morning when we practiced, 'cause we'd gotten up and eaten breakfast. But when we breaked for Taco Bell it was about 4 o'clock! Weird. Regardless, we spent an hour or two......

Playing acoustic guitar,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . writing a song,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IN TACO BELL!!!

That's right! I asked sweetly, blinked my big doe eyes pleadingly, and the nice people behind the counter said we could bring our guitar in and play it quietly. I pretty much think that according to the laws of physics, life can't get any better than playing guitar with your band in Taco Bell :-) Good time, even though our lengthy efforts only yielded a shaky idea for verse 1 lyrics. Ugh. The prechorus and chorus have been written since the summer, but the verses are stubbornly mocking our attempts to put them into cold hard words. We've got a good start, though.

We practiced some more when we got back home, but the fire was pretty much gone, and Brian left around 6:30pm. Steve and I jammed a bit, but I was in a half-ticked mood, I think because of too much incessant loud music and not enough food (I get low blood sugar easily, and become effectively dead to the world). I had spit out an idea of seeing if Craig wanted to come over, but later wanted to just let Steve do some homework and me rest. But the call had been made, and Craigory was on his way. It was fun to hang out with him and Steve (two of my best friends in Akron), and we had some cool jams downstairs, but in general I was kinda out of it and feeling rather dissipated and wasted. I hope I wasn't a pain for Steve and Craig. Oh well. At 10 o'clock I kicked Craig out, and Steve and I retired to the den. We watched the "Nothing is Sound" DVD, which.....confirmed and escalated many thoughts and feelings I've had about that album, and recording and producing in general. Then we worked more on the song, in the timeless lit-up den with dark windows and unchangingly-quiet house above it. At some point I fell soundly asleep on the couch, and when Steve got me back up to work on the song I was desperately tired and groggy for a strange period of time. Oy. That night was long, tired, and only stranglingly productive, as we finally managed to squeeze out a verse 1 that seems to work quite well. If I had that night to do over again, I'd do it differently, but I don't. Ah, memories can be tricky. Everything I did that day was enjoyable, and some of it was intensely productive and exciting, but a few events left a taste of waste in my mind, which now colors all my recollections. Ah well. Times like these I let my memories go under the truth of God's sovereignty.

Sunday Steve and I made it to church only 3 minutes after 10, which was pretty good IMO. Worship was pretty good, there was a time of prayer for folks, and then John Joyce preached about evangelism. "Invite and Invest" was the phrase that stuck in my mind, as far as being a good friend to folks in my life (as opposed to being a "Christian secret agent"). Then the walking around and talking to various people I know, catching up with those who talk more seriously, exchanging coolio comments with those who don't, and (yay!) meeting some new people. I was glad to be back for a Sunday again. I like that church :-)

Steve and I wandered around Montrose for a long time trying to find somewhere to eat lunch that didn't have a huge line, and eventually we ended up deciding to go home and eat Mrs. H's chili. Arg. Wasted time and wasted gas. Ah well. The chili was good, and 'round about 2pm Brian arrived. The menu for Sunday was RECORDING. Yes! We're not "starting the second album," per se, but we're starting to work on a song or two, taking our time to get all parts RIGHT. This day we were laying the drums. So we set them up in the living room, Steve wired up all 8 mics, Steve, Mike and I painstakingly placed each one (some within only a few millimeters precision), we wired up the dance room for Steve and Brian to play and here, and finally, after much much work and time and snacks from the Duchess and patience from Brian (thanks so much, man!), we recorded.

We recorded!

It was a year ago when last I sat behind Steve's mammoth drum set in the Hoffman's sparse living room, with mic cables snaking up the hall to Mike's room and headphones connecting me with Brian and Stephen. A flood of tactile and visual memories came back as I sat on the drum throne, listening to the mic in the basement and hearing the artificially-articulated sounds of my drumset coming through the headphones. I was genuinely excited (pumped)! And the best part? Dude, I give us six clicks, and we come crashing in to the intro of "Hit the Wall," and it just rocks! We all knew it so well that we were able to fine-tune it, record it several times to get out small mistakes, and end up with a drum track that I can be proud of (except that one half-late kick drum in the fill going into the third prechorus...). It was a great feeling to play it that well, and to know that we were getting it on tape with precisely-placed mics and EQ settings landing us a drum sound that socked and rocked, even without compression and additional EQ. SWEET!

So, aye—we recorded Sunday. First drums for two songs, and then we crammed into Mike’s room (the “studio”) and Brian and I worked on recording the guitar for “Summer Song,” the second one we recorded. Pretty sweet, and we’re majorly looking forward to have a finished product.

Then the arduous task of taking down all the sound stuff, and then I packed up, and then the Hoffman and adopted Hoffman guys retired to the den for sleep/watching “The Net.” Turned out to be a cool movie, unfortunately. That’s bad because I means I stayed up and watched it all, and thus got less sleep than I should have. Oh well—story of the weekend. Monday I got up at about 5:30, loaded the car, ate some pancakes, and drove to work. No longer do I feel pangs when I leave Akron, whether it’s because I’m used to leaving, or I know I’m coming back soon, or I’ve been too frazzled to feel anything that deeply :-P Regardless, I got to work and hit my second straight day of working on the annual Tier II report. Crazy times.

It was a long weekend, we got some great music stuff done, Steve has an acoustic guitar, I didn’t get enough sleep, and life chugs on relentlessly. I’m finishing this up Thursday night (Friday morning, dangit), and tomorrow I go to Akron again for practice. Oy! More on that later.

Happy Birthday Steve! Happy band! Happy music! Happy God!

--Clear Ambassador

Akron Photos

Until further notice (A journal post), refer to my photo site for a report from Akron. Actually, I really liked the form of captions for journaling the trip, and if you go through the pictures in order they give a great representation of the visit. I got better ideas doing that than I did sitting down and writing out the journal like normal. In general my writing inspiration is drying up, so I'm looking for time-efficient ways to keep doing at least decently good writing.

I got a pro upgrade on Flickr, too: $25 for basically unlimited photos for a year. Worth it, I think, 'cause I like pictures a lot, and they can be a great way to represent stuff that's going on. Ah, the joy and power of having a camera in your hands :-)

peace

--Clear Ambassador

Fwd: this weekend

John Behrens <pittjpb8@yahoo.com> wrote:

Date: Wed, 22 Feb 2006 10:56:07 -0800 (PST)
From: John Behrens <pittjpb8@yahoo.com>
Subject: this weekend
To: Brian Chima <ilikepureboss@hotmail.com>,
Michael Hoffman <narsil15@yahoo.com>,
Stephen Hoffman <shoffman14@yahoo.com>

Hey guys!

 

Well, back again, eh? :-) I can't believe how fast these concerts are coming up. Mike, I hope you've got good plans for making that sub, 'cause you'll only have 2 weekends to work on it.

 

For this weekend I'm thinking of starting right after dance on Friday (5:30), like normal. We stop all playing of music at 10pm, chill out a bit, and then watch Zoolander (Brian, do you have it at home?). That should get us to sleep right about midnight. Then we get up between 9 and 10 and practice, with a TB break somewhere after noon. I'm planning on heading back home Saturday night, hopefully around 7 or 8, so we'll probably stop practice at about 6. If we're going really strong and there's tons more we need to work on, I can stay through Sunday. We'll build that hot-air balloon and float over the river when we get to it (bridges--who needs 'em?).

 

I'm thinking about the setlist a bit, and hopefully I'll have something we can work with by Friday. Think about it yourselves, too--what should we start with? What "Hypothesis" songs should we do? What kind of breaks or talking stuff can we do? etc.

 

Steve, you are ordered to heal yourself of your infirmity with all possible rapidity. No excuse will be courted. Obedience is mandatory, and if illness remains, you will be reprimanded and maybe even made fun of a bit. :-) Sleeeeeep......

 

See you guys Friday!!

 

-=-J-=-P-=-B-=-

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Glory seekers

Where have you been finding glory these last few days? Where, in the existence of God's good world, have you been marveling at and enjoying the shining tastes of His glory that speckle our lives like glitter in the dirt? Are your eyes open to these "glory moments" (to borrow the phrase from a past sermon)?

I tasted glory in the hot sausage chili soup Sunday afternoon.

I felt glory in the air that blew warm on my skin this afternoon and evening.

I sucked down glory in the Cherry Vanilla Dr.Pepper slurpie from Seven Eleven today.

I saw glory on the TV screen as men plummeted down a precipitious icy slope, not scraping down it, clinging to the hill as it fell away beneath them, but pointing their slick skiis down, tucking in, and trying to go as fast as they possibly could! I watched in awe as their whole bodies shuddered and bent under the force of the turns as they skied on the edge of control, a muscle twitch away from a car-less wreck at highway speeds.

I see heart-touching glory in Daisy's face every day. You'd think we'd get used to it, since she's always around, but I truly never cease to be amazed at her ineffable cuteness and to wonder at it. "What a gift from God!" is all I can say.

I live with the glory of my Mom and Dad, two of the most enduringly godly people I've ever known. I marvel at the laying down of their lives that blesses me every day.

I enjoy glory in the music that Brian, Stephen and I make in the basement of the Hoffman's house. I sung and played glory in the delicate song Steve taught me last time I was there. I feel glory as the bass amp fills the room with huge round sound waves.

There's glory everywhere, and the more you think about it and look for it, and the more you turn from it to delight in and thank the God who gives it so graciously, the more you see and the more you savor.

Life is good :-)

--JPB

A weekend unlike any other...

Leading Sunday morning worship for the first time ever.

Watching Zoolander for the first time ever.

Jamming with Jonathan BEFORE noon on Saturday. (yes, that does indeed entail being up prior to 12pm on a Saturday!)

Long practice/jam with Daniel and Justin Saturday night.

Soup and sandwich lunch buffet Sunday. Beats a potluck, dude! Plus, they chilled their 2-liter bottles of pop!! Quality people, I tell you what :-)

Taco Bell with Daniel and Justin . . . and KEN! on Saturday afternoon.

Waking up at 7 on Sunday morning and riding in the minivan one and a half hours wedged in the back seat with Daniel and Justin, while Joel and Cindy sat in the middle row and Mom and Dad talked from up front.

Sleeping on the floor in the basement as a tribute to Friday Nights of the past (except it was Saturday night, but whatever).

Talking on said basement floor with the Harvster and Ice Man till like 2:40am.

Hot sausage chili soup. Oohhhhh baby :-)

Scraping ice off the Rishel's car as Joel tried to whisk it off with his bare hands: "Joel, the use of tools is what separates us from the animals!"

Entering in to White Stone Christian Fellowship's body of fellow believers for a day. They may be hoping to become a Sovereign Grace Ministries church, but as far as I'm concerned, they already are!

Rice Corn and Cheese Casserole Saturday night. Handmade. By me. Brought back a flood of memories from Friday Nights with Ken and Daniel in the past. Plus it tasted real good :-)

Singing into the microphone Sunday morning and hearing my voice fill the comfortable little sanctuary from the crisp speakers.

Hearing what Jonathan played on electric guitar while we jammed Saturday.

"You can read minds???!"

Spicy chicken for the price of beef, baby! All ya gotta do is ask!

Watchin' sports with Ken Friday night. (Although I've been sorely realizing my distance from the youth group, where Mom Dad and Ice were that night, and wishing I could be a part of it again.)

Pretty much the taste of the weekend that lingers in my mind's mouth after time has drained the fleeting sip of the present is spending all day Saturday and most of the day Sunday with either Jonathan or Justin. They are two of the best guys I've ever known, and it was sweet to have plentiful time to talk, chill and jam. And Ice Man, too. He's pretty much the coolest guy ever. Pun unintentionally intended. And Ken even got in on some of the action! A weekend to look back on and remember for a nice long time.

--Clear Ambassador

Sick practice, dude!

Friday-Saturday, February 3rd-4th, 2006

Akron trip #3 for the new year.

I dully pushed myself out of the chair, dragged my feet across the hall, and flopped my shoulder against the frame of Tom’s door, informing him that I felt like septic sludge that morning.
“No, it’s just a normal cold. I dunno, I just have no energy at all...”
“Well, if you feel that bad, why don’t you take off?”
“I was thinking of heading out after lunch. I’ve gotta do the potable report and the turbidity, but once those are finished—they’re the only things that really need to be done today.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. And if you’re feeling too bad, just leave, that’s fine.”

1:30pm that afternoon. I had indeed finished the few requirements of that day, eaten a bowl of soup after everyone else had left for lunch at the Midway, and gotten in the car and headed West, bound for Akron. Now Pepsi Blue sat between yellow stripes outside McDonalds as I returned from my pit stop. I flopped in, leaned the seat back, tried to somehow bend my arm around in a comfortable position that covered my eyes, eventually gave up, laid back, and put myself into pure neutral. Songs and scenarios drifted through my head as I enjoyed letting my eyelids stay shut, and eventually I remember slowly waking up and having no idea where I was, and not caring, and being very still and comfortable, and finally remembering the car, and Akron, and being sick, and the fact that I was halfway there and sitting in my car at a random rest stop. The sleep had been sweet by its mere spontaneity, and by the need for it that had been tugging at my eyelids all morning. Needless to say, the rest of the drive proceeded in a much less risky manner.

“Hey Jahn” said Steve groggily from under the blanket on the den floor.
“Hey Steve!”
So Mrs. H had been right :-) He was supposed to have been helping set things up for the rummage sale since 11 that morning, but when I got there at 2:20 he was nowhere to be found, and she bet I’d find him sleeping at home.
“Recovering from the English paper?”
“Yeah, man…”
Well, I didn’t honestly feel a whole lot better myself. I had been hanging around the building where the dance ministry’s fundraiser was to be held on Saturday, sorta helping carry some stuff in, saying hey to friends, and continuing my copious nose-blowing. I can’t remember any other illness that has made my nose run so much! Eeesh. Eventually I headed back home, promising to probably return around 6 or something.
So, after a brief exchange with the sleepy Stephen and much petting of the excited dogs, I grabbed a blanket and deposited my drooping limbs and pounding head on the Hoffman’s basement couch. Brandy apparently loves that particular blanket, so she jumped up, found a beagle-sized nook, and the Hoffman’s house lapsed into silence. I remember thinking it was odd to drive out to Ohio, to this special city full of special people, and crash with a cold. But oh well. Practice must go on, and I would get what rest I could on Friday, and heck, I’m pretty much a part of the Hoffman family anyway, so whatever. It’s cool to come here so often that I can do this….Sleep took me, and it was sweet, and Brandy was warm, and time ceased to matter.

“Ohh, dude, this is amazing. I’m so dizzy it’s nuts! I don’t even have to turn my head, just move my eyes, and it’s like everything goes crazy.”
Steve and I were walking back from re-setting-up tables and chairs in an auxiliary building where dance lessons had been held during the afternoon. It was about 8:30 at night, but I felt like about 3am. We had woken up around 5, finally kickstarted our engines, and drove over to the rummage sale to bum some dinner off the setup crew who were pricing and sorting like feinds. Such we had done, and then hung around with the Murphys, Tuminos and others who were helping with the setup (“helping” is generous. The work was going pretty scatterdly at that time!). Most of the fun centered around pawing over the tables of clothes brought in by rummage donators. We pretty much got the cream of the crop, and cleaned out the few clothes that were mildly cool or useful. Steve got a sweet suit, I found some sweet shirts (heheheheheh) and stuff, and judging by the periodic bursts of laughs and giggles coming from the girls tables, I think they had fun too. The “I <3 BOYS” shirt was a big hit. But eventually I did take it off. And then me and Steve tore it up so no girl would buy it :-P Good times :-)

“Sorry Jess, we can’t stick around for Starbucks. I’m sick, and it’s later than I wanted to stay, and I’ve gotta rest for practice tomorrow. Ugh, I still can’t imagine you guys getting jacked on caffeine at 10 at night! Don’t hurt yourself, ok? Oy.”

“Duude. The pictures are rattling!”
“Is it too loud?”
“No man, it’s sweet! . . well, we’ll see.”
We didn’t end up turning the sub down as Episode III rocked the Hoffman’s den that night, and it definitely added physical power to the movie, which is already pretty hard core, especially for Star Wars. It was cool to see it again, being only my second time, and cool to chill with Steve-O while everybody else was gone (Philip was with his Grandma for the weekend and Scott and Mom #2 were at the rummage sale till 4 or 5am). I laid back on the couch and let the screen fill my eyes and the sub fill my ears, and I enjoyed once again how the movie got better and better as the galaxy went further and further to pot :-) Hayden does a much better job as a limbless wreck burning in lava then as a wavy-haired hunk making sweet talk to Padme. “This is a happy time now.” Ahhhhh, you’re TERRIBLE man! Heh.

“Dude, come on! It’s eleven-thirty, Brian’s gonna be here in half an hour, and we’ve got the set everything up for practice!”
Ugh, waking Stephen up is not easy. And then when he finally got up, 20 minutes later, he took a shower! Geez dude.
Yes, my alarm did go off at 10, and yes I had wanted to get up in time to go over to the rummage sale before Brian came at noon and practice started... but I just shut it off, laid back in still, rested comfort, and wondered if I’d fall back asleep again. I guess the answer was yes :-)
Brian ended up coming later, and I wasn’t done setting up until after Steve got back with the bass amp from church, so it all worked out.

“That was swEET, guys!”
“Yeah man! We could almost do those four songs just like that for the concert!”
America Blue, Regular Basis, Straight from the Nails, and Walking Dust in quick succession had kicked our practice off to a rockin’ start. This is one of the predominant images or memories in my mind from this trip: the joy and togetherness of playing with Brian and Stephen. Steve really echoed my thoughts (brainwaves, man!) when he was talking about how our lack of practice last semester would either break the band or make it much stronger. When we clicked off the first song on December 30th and blasted right back in after 3 months apart, I knew we were stronger, not weaker, for the absence. Each of our practices this year have been marked by new innovations with old songs, finishing and arranging and modifying new songs, and in general playing very well together, remembering stuff well, and enjoying the sweet tones of Philip’s new bass and the church’s kickin’ bass amp. I really can’t describe how it feels to sit behind the drums and play with two guys who know exactly what to do, what to play, and play it well, and to have the three of us make music—low pounding bass, guitar filling in all the chords and leads, drums and fills and kick beats, vocals and harmonies….. it’s what makes people be in bands! I’m excited for our new songs, and I’ve been thinking perhaps God is leading towards starting work on our second album. We may end up being more of a studio band, since it’s tough to find concert contexts for a band of Christian minors (well, 2 minors anyway). I’m excited for the new songs, and I’m excited that all of us are writing, and getting into the process, and coming up with good stuff, and then getting together and working it out with the band, and working over ideas, and being willing to give up our preferences, and coming out with some sweet music. God, Thy will be done, as I keep praying! Brian and Stephen, I love you guys!

“Oh, of course.”
Such was Brian’s response when I mentioned the “Taco Bell Break” we’d be taking Saturday afternoon. I mean, seriously…how could we not?? Spicy chicken crunchwrap supreme, baby! And with one brief primer question (What’s God been doing in your life lately?) we all jumped in to an hour or so of real conversation and discussion—infinitely more satisfying than an hour of banal blabber :-) Brian’s cell phone / mp3 player is sweet, too. And we rung the bell, and didn’t care if they thought we were lame, ‘cause we’d had a blast, and the food was good, and we love Taco Bell!

“Hey Dad, it’s John! Hi! Well, let’s see…we had a sweet practice, and then Mrs. Hoffman came home around 7 and told us Mr. H was stuck in the mud outside the rummage sale. Heh. So we finished up and went over and got him out. And then we were like, ‘aw, we can’t let this be the end of the day!’ So we stopped at Burger King for Brian, and then just decided to go to the Murphys. So.. we randomly showed up on the Murphy’s porch, and rang the doorbell, and Justin let us in, so we stood inside and talked for like 15 minutes, and finally Mr. Murphy invited us to sit down, and we ended up hanging out for like 2 hours! Heh, it was pretty sweet! We helped him think of a worship song for the morning, and played guitar and stuff…it was a pretty cool Akron thing to do :-) So, I really don’t feel like driving home right now, I just…I dunno, can’t picture driving back now. I’m thinking of staying the night here, and then driving to church in the morning and getting there at the normal time. ‘Cause then I wouldn’t need to leave till 7:30 or so, and I’ve been wanting a week off from the worship team anyway, and this would be more efficient sleep-wise. So, yeah, that’s what I’m thinkin’. Heh. Aight. Well, have a good night! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

"Duuude, I'm so excited! Oh my gash! I've had this in my head for so long, and to hear the guitar and piano together is just amazing!"
Steve had been trying to work his song out for months, playing me bits and pieces of sweet-sounding chords and melodies on guitar and piano, and claiming it was the best song he'd ever written. The time was finally right that night, with practice over, parents asleep upstairs, and a keyboard and an electric guitar plugged into a sweet 15" bass amp in the post-practice dance room, half below ground on a snowy night in Akron. I was in a post-caffeine, post-practice tiredness stupor, flopping in front of the amp, letting every strum of my strat fill me with joy (it sounded SO good through that amp!!), and sinking deeper and deeper into Steve's song. We got the arrangement nailed down, and I learned the guitar parts and got the feel for how it goes. Great great time sharing some deep music. And then we watched "Conspiracy Theory," and talked a bunch, and finally went to bed. And I was more rested than I expected the next morning, and it was cool to wake up in Akron and go to church in Pittsburgh :-)

I love Pure Boss :-) Thank You Lord for every time we've been able to play together, and every song You've given us, and all the enjoyment you pour out through this marvelous thing called music!

--Clear Ambassador

Pittsburgh visit :-P

The length of time between this post and my previous one indicates well the preoccupation of my time in the last two weeks with work, school, travels/hanging out, and recording. At last I am taking as short a time as possible to jot down the weekend before this past one.

January 27-29th, 2006
I was finally home for a weekend, after having been gone seemingly for months. I made up for my absence by hanging out with the Pittsburgh youth all Friday night and all afternoon Saturday, and all afternoon Sunday. Friday night Daniel and Sarah had organized a dinner at Eat 'n' Park, which ended up having 14 diners. I mostly got to catch up on things with Justin, get to know Jess and her friend Steph, who are relatively knew to PChOP, and catch up on the vibes of the YPCG-type group, in which I was once immersed. My respect for Daniel and Justin has deepened, and I learned more of my own limitations and pride. We hung out at EnP for a long time, were frustrated in our plans to go bowling, and ended up filling the Calano's living room till past midnight. Playing cards, playing guitar, doing push-ups, catching up, and enjoying fun company all combined to make this a rock 'n' roll evening. (I sound like an ad here, gosh!)

Saturday at 1:30 Daniel and I hit Quinlisk Park for frisbee. Yay for ultimate! The turnout was fairly light (from three to five per team), but the quality of play was excellent, the weather was GORGEOUS, the field wasn't too muddy, and I really had a lot of fun. Except Nate just couldn't get his wind, so we were sorta down a player :-( But I stopped the unstoppable Justin Harvey a couple times, and even made one catch myself, which was gratifying. After pounding ourselves on the turf in the quest for the disc we piled into cars and drove to Chick-fil-A, where Matt Q and Steve Schuch were working. We got cheap food from sweet coupons and sat around eating and talking and switching tables and sharing more semi-banal but still enjoyable conversation. Finally Daniel and I dragged ourselves back home. My knees held up admirably to the all-out game I played on them, but my leg muscles whined at me for the next 4 days. No problem, man--I'll take muscle soreness any day over stupid unexplained joint pain.

Saturday night was touched with the hand of God. Mom and Dad were at a potluck with Dad's men's group's couples, Daniel was at "The Importance of Being Earnest" with a bunch of folks, and Mike Quinlisk came over and helped me record drums for the punk song I wrote the day before. I was bursting at the seams to get it recorded, and with Mike at the helm of the computer I was able to sit at the drums and just play and play and take and take until we got it right. In two hours we had genuinely satisfactory drums for the entire song. I was ecstatic! It is SO much easier to record with another person! Oy. That night I stayed up way late and recorded all the bass for the song, too--working through it and getting the bass part to a level of technical correctness that made the song sound real, not like a lame basement recording. WOW, man! This is what happens when God is behind a recording project! Seriously.

Sunday I played drums at church (which went very well), listened to Joel's great message about Jesus being the only true source of help, and then headed to the Quinlisks with my men's group for lunch and prayer. Both were enjoyable and profitable. Daniel was at "The Point of the Spear" with a group of his peeps, and Ryan and Christa (newly engaged! *giggles*) were hangin' at the Q's. So I hung around, plunked guitar, and, with a violent start, remembered the go-kart sitting in their garage! So Mike and I dragged it out and I spent a euphoric 30 minutes fulfilling my heretofore unrealized childhood dream of driving a go-kart. SO sweet! When you're that low to the ground, even 10mph feels fast. Ahhh :-)

Finally Daniel got back, we toodled around some more, and eventually left and went home. Quite a weekend, and quite startlingly filled with activities. I was very glad to be able to catch up with folks here, and to record my song, and to play frisbee, and to spend time with the cool and friendly folks of God's church.

--Clear Ambassador

Indiana Weekend (finally!)

Ah, now to settle down and write a good report of the weekend in Indiana. I’m trying to take more time to write these reports, to increase the quality of the writing and interest of the content. We’ll see how it goes :-)

Indiana is closer to our house than Akron, but further from work, since Nova is an hour west of West Mifflin and Indiana is east. So, it was a long drive out. And in classic PA style, when you look at a map there is NO clear way to get from Monaca to Indiana, even though it’s a straight shot east. I ended up following Ben, the safety intern at Nova, who was going back to IUP for the weekend. He knew the region well, and I trailed him through a bewildering string of podunky towns and stretching semi-rural countryside. We left at 3:45pm, and I got to the Altrogge’s house at about 6. It was dark, I was tired from a long day of work and a long complicated drive, and as I pulled up to the house I frowned at the dark interior and nearly empty driveway. Sure enough, only four-legged residents greeted my knocks and bell-rings at the door. I waved to Bella and Joanna as they wagged their tails and barked, called all Altrogge cell numbers I had, kicked around outside, and finally tried the door. It was providentially unlocked, and I greeted the excited dogs, who thankfully remembered me.

So, I started off the weekend by wandering around the Altrogge’s house for awhile! :-) I finally dug into a drawer, found a church directory, and called the Kims. As I was on the phone with Phil a car pulled into the driveway and David came running frantically to the door. I welcomed him and Johnny to the house, and the weekend began!

I met David 3 or 4 years ago at Youth Camp. We talked for a bit in the line for lunch, and on the last day he invited me over for a visit anytime. For some odd reason I, a lifelong home-centered homeschooler, took him up on his offer and traveled to a strange family’s house for a weekend with my relatively new driver’s license. I still don’t really know why, but David and I connected at a deep level, and I had an awesome weekend, unlike any before, with him and his graceful and welcoming family. I have visited periodically since then, talking with David, hanging out with peers from the Indiana church, recording in Mr. Altrogge’s sweet semi-pro basement studio, and having all kinds of crazy, highly un-Pittsburghian experiences.

We hit the weekend running, even though it had been between one and two years since I had been up for a visit. The parents were out for an overnight, so David, Johnny, Beth and I hit Subs ‘n’ Suds for sweet free pizzas. While waiting for the back-ordered pizzas we took a random stroll around the residential streets of the area. In a classic Indiana moment a member of our party needed a pit stop, so we walked up a few more blocks and popped in to the McKelvey’s house (A family from Lord of Life Church). Said hi to the mildly surprised family members, talked for a bit, and went on our way. :-)

After dinner David and I went down to the studio and I played some of the songs I’ve written. We didn’t have the recording bug, though, so instead we went upstairs and played music for eachother for about 2 hours. David had his Dad’s laptop, I had my iPod, and we swapped the 1/8^th inch jack leading to the sweet JVC stereo. I’m gonna buy The Blue Album by Weezer, and check out Sufjan Stevens. The Penguin Café Orchestra was pretty cool, too. It was great to share some of my favorite songs with someone who listened and cared, and to hear new and different music from an eclectic and discerning source.

Finally we finished the music and took a long walk around the neighborhood. It was one of those freaky days this winter when it’s 50 degrees and feels like Florida. So we strolled around in the almost-balmy-feeling night air, under the bright non-city stars, and caught up on nearly two years of thinking, writing, school, and God’s work in our lives. It was probably the highlight of the weekend. We both came away encouraged in God, more clear on our current situation, and equipped to pray for eachother and see how we’re doing. David is definitely on the short short list of people who talk back at an equal level and volume with me. It was a joy to walk and talk without time being a consideration, and to share and be shared with with depth and honesty.

The rest of the night we spent going to the Kearneys to deliver some stuff for Beth, who was staying the night there. We hung around and watched the deplorable end of “Red Eye,” and Sarah’s brothers’ snowboarding DVD’s. Pretty silly movie, and pretty funny little snowboarders :-P The sack was hit at about 1:30am, and wasn’t risen from until 11am. Three cheers for sleep!

Saturday was recording day. I arose wonderfully rested, showered, and then David, Johnny and I drove to The Coney, a restaurant in downtown Indiana (aka Philly Street) with legendary wings. They indeed lived up to their status, and beyond that it was great to hang out with Josh, Ben and Jim, getting to know them better. After lunch David and I went downstairs and started recording. We settled on my song “Day After Day,” which David liked a lot. I like it a lot too, and was excited to have a much-higher-quality studio to do it justice. Our only real breaks from recording were picking Beth up from the Kearneys, welcoming Mark and Kristi home, and eating some dinner.

*squints eyes in thought*. I am no longer blindly worshipping Mr. Altrogge’s studio as I have on past visits. Neither am I blindly using it and liking how it sounds. I can see and deeply appreciate the many nice things about at, and I can also hear and feel the limitations of it compared to a professional studio. Mostly, I came away realizing that a high-quality, clean input chain lets you pump the gain and compress it down without getting a bunch of hiss and weird artifacts. This means that whether you’re recording guitar or vocals, and whether you’re 1 inch or 20 inches from the mic, it sounds full and well-balanced. I bleed and fret and suffer and strain to get sounds that we got by just jacking the mic up and singing! It was wonderfully convenient, quick, and qualitious (word??). Joy. And much less envy and discontent than past visits. I do hurt for a good reverb, though :-(

Finally David started fading, so we closed down the mixing and mastering and went to bed. I feel almost like there was no Saturday this weekend, ‘cause I slept through half of it, and the recording time slipped away uncannily fast. 5 hours pass like 30 minutes down there. ‘Twas a great day though, and the ease and beauty of the recording challenges the previous night’s walk ‘n’ talk as the highlight of the weekend.

Sunday: sleep, church, Pizza Hut, mastering, Steelers Game, and lazing about. Mr. Altrogge’s message was excellent, as always, and really encourage me to pray with fervor and faith, in accord with my convictions of late. After church David, Josh, Jon, Bethany, Ruthie, Sarah and I hit Pizza Hut, splitting a Bigfoot pizza for a surprisingly cheap lunch. That was a fun time because there was mostly real conversation going on, and I got to catch up with peoples’ semesters and lives.

I found my way home solo since Dave was dropping off a couple people. I am finally getting a picture of Indiana geography, mostly because of the maps I looked at on yahoo.com, so I was able to get home fine, and even pop over to Sheetz to fill up my tank. In the hours between lunch and the Steelers game David and I mastered the song down in the studio. Mastering basically fills out a recording, and it made a BIG difference. Makes me realize what I’m missing in my recordings.

A little after 3 David drove me out to the Snyders’ house where folks were congregate for game-watching and food-snacking and out-hanging. I participated in all three, and it was a sweet time. The Steelers won soundly, and the snacks were of the finest quality and selection. Ian and his gf gave me a ride home through the early dark of the winter night, rolling up and down the Indiana hills and laughing at the lack of power of his trusty ol’ beater :-)

I sorta had dinner at the Snyders, so after David ate we both headed to “The Common Place,” a totally sweet little coffeehouse on the IUP campus. It’s….everything a coffeehouse is. Student paintings on the wall, a roaster set up in one corner, eclectic music playing quietly, a hand-written menu overflowing with specialty coffee concoctions, and walking, talking, coffee-quaffing college student stereotypes. David and I lolled on the couches, discoursed more about music and art, and talked on-and-off with Patrick, an interesting guy David knew, who was reading at a nearby table. It’s such a friendly, personalizing experience to walk into a place like that and see people you know. Makes me realize how big Pittsburgh is, and how disconnected I am from almost every normal social sphere. [Disconnected knowingly and by choice. Not complaining, just contemplating.]

They roast their own coffee at the Common Place, and I tell ya, it puts Starbucks to shame. I asked what was unique, and guided by the answer I took a bold step and ordered a “Trainwreck.” Three shots of espresso. Three pumps of vanilla syrup. Over ice. Don’t worry, I got decaf :-) It was powerful, as expected, and slightly different tasting. Without the cream to mitigate it, the natural sourness of the coffee came through in a strangely fruity character. Overall enjoyable, though. Different, and I would get it again, this time with non-decaf and a pump of a different flavor syrup. David also got me seconds—this time a normal decaf coffee. Delicious and delightful to sip and stare at as we talked on in the room full of quiet conversations and smooth jazz. Finally we heaved ourselves out of the couches cushions and drove home. I wish I knew a place like that in Pittsburgh that was close enough to chill at!

Nothing else much happened that evening, other than making a run for road snacks and a sugar-free Jones for Beth. I just didn’t feel like leaving for some reason, so I lolled around, played guitar, talked with David and Mr. Altrogge, and wished I didn’t have to work the next day. Finally I sighed, got up, and commenced the departure procedure. It had been a quick weekend, but all my goals had been accomplished: Catch up with David, record a song, hang out with Indiana peeps, and watch the Steelers game. The only thing we didn’t get done was watching “Stop Making Sense” by Talking Heads. Just another reason to come back, though :-)

The drive home was pretty neutral. I don’t remember if I listened to music, but I know I prayed on and off, recounting the things I’d said to and heard from David. I was not sad as I drove home, and I considered why. I’m certainly much more accustomed to fun weekend trips than the last time I went to Indiana, and this trip had the feeling of another one to come not too far in the future. Fundamentally, though, I think I really am sinking my roots into Jesus a bit. I’m just not “leaving it all behind” when I drive away from Akron or Indiana anymore. And especially with this weekend, the fun and joyful afterglow centered almost exclusively on God and the enjoyment of His gifts with his people. I left lifted up to God in joy, not crashing back down to normal life. David, you rock!

And I actually genuinely feel like saying this: Jesus You are so beyond rocking.

It’s just amazing the faith and guts He had to say what He said to the Pharisees and the people. The gospel of John has been amazing me this week as the weight of the lunacy of Christ’s claims becomes more apparent. Lunacy, that is, to anyone whose heart wasn’t being opened by the Father. And He didn’t spazz out about making everybody understand what He was saying, He just said what the Father told Him to, when He told Him to. Amazing. Marquis Laughlin, you too rock. You have brought the gospels to life for me, and for that I am, truly, forever grateful.

So. Wonderful weekend. As I think back on it, the “feel” of the weekend consists mostly of the richness of conversations. The recording is there, the Steelers game, the sweet foods, and the sweet sleeping in, but mostly I enjoyed sharing my life’s happenings and enjoyments with someone who listened, enjoyed, and shared back. Good times under a good God!

--Clear Ambassador

The Drive

As I was on the road this morning, pointed towards Monaca PA in the waning darkness, I thought I'd paint a picture of my drive, since it's a big part of my life five out of every seven days.

The first part of the drive, up until the long stretch of Carson Street, is dominated by 2 things: Oppressive freezing cold and trying to balance whatever cups, plates and bowls I have brought along for my breakfast. Oh, and trying to drive, too :-P Oooh, that car is SO cold in those mornings! It soaks in all night long as Pepsi Blue sits in the driveway, burying itself deep down in the steering wheel and seats and windowpanes, chilling the engine to its core. Even when the thermostat gets up to normal temperatures it takes about 10 minutes to get truly hot air out of the vents. This morning it was 16 degrees, so it was particularly noticeable.

The next stretch is between Carson Street and the Fort Pitt Bridge. It consists of lots of city driving, lots of using the clutch, camping out behind people in one-lane stretches and trying to get ahead in two-lane stretches. Oh, and it contains some of my least favorite driving ever: a couple-mile stretch on 2nd Avenue which is *technically* 2 lanes, but almost nobody gets over enough to fit 2 cars, and the right side has these horrible storm drains that wreak bloody havoc on my poor tires and suspension. You can either blow through there in a minute if nobody's around, or you can crawl behind a slowbie for 5 minutes, one foot away from being able to pass them.

The sad thing is those first two sections take half the time of the drive, but cover only about 1/4th the distance. The rest is flying down the parkway. From the Ft. Pitt Tunnel to Robinson Township it's pretty crowded, and you only fly if the left lane is unobstructed by inconsiderate slow passers or oblivious slow drivers. Sometimes people get irritated at me 'cause I leave a lot of room in front of me, but I always keep up the speed of the left lane, and if I can't I get right. A couple of the hills show up the limits of my 2-liter engine at highway speeds. *sigh*

The final section is the wide-open freeway from Robinson to the "Monaca Shippingport" exit. It gets very dark, and there is almost no traffic to require my attention, so this is where my eyelids start forcing themselves shut and the world starts to haze a bit if I haven't gotten enough sleep. Hateful feeling. If it weren't for this section I would probably arrive at work raring to go. As it is, I often get there really draggy and drowsy, which makes it hard to start poring over circle charts and entering data into Excel. Oh well.

The last thing in every morning's drive is the entrance into Nova. As I get close to the light where I turn in to the plant I sightlessly pop open the console and retrieve my badge. Slow for the light, turn in, coast up to the gate, scan the badge, and I'm in. Then I try to time my acceleration so I can catch the official time is on the big light-up display. Always 3 minutes less than my car clock, but I always wait to see it flash up. Then crawl at 15mph to the parking lot at the Engineering & Maintenance Building, pull into a spot, and wish I could tilt the seat back and sleep for 5 hours.

The drive home is . . . . another post for another day :-)

--Clear Ambassador

Several Scattered Thoughts (SST)

hmmph. I can start a load of laundry after dinner and utterly forget about it until the next day, but I remembered randomly in the shower tonight that I had forgotten to write down the pH measurements I'd taken at the Dylark sumps today. Without a second's doubt or hesitation I recalled the measured values: 2 for the maleic tank dike and 6 for the styrene tank dike. I signed in at the Dylark control room at 3:35pm and signed out at 3:45pm. The chlorine reading was 4.75 inches, taken exactly at 11:20am, the maximum residual chlorine amount in the potable water from yesterday was 2.12ppm. I could go on and recall more pH values and outfall temperatures and describe the numerical variation of yesterday's turbidity readings, but I think my point is made. My mind is weird, and for some reason it has a great propensity for remembering certain incidental numbers (The phone number for the honor's college at Pitt is 412-624-6880) while totally forgetting important and relevant and recent things. Ugh.

God's merciful answer to fervent and frequent prayers, plus some jedi-like reflexes, saved me from a car accident this afternoon. After pushing through my second day of horrible snow/ice/rain on the parkway, with instant death/injury only a brake-tap or wheel-turn away, I was coasting up to a stoplight on a small road 10 minutes from home, my eyes watching a funky glimmering light, trying to figure out why it was glimmering. A second later I was 20 feet further, in the same lane, having just wrenched the wheel hard left and then hard right to avoid the butt of a car that had backed out of a driveway into my path.
My mind started to process what had just happened, and the huge shot of adrenaline worked its way through my blood system, crunching up my stomach, throbbing my leg muscles, and giving me a surging mental high. I marveled at the faster-than-thought action of the human body in extreme situations, and if I wouldn't have been driving I would have dropped on my knees and thanked God for answering my prayers and guiding my subconscious reflexes to perfectly respond to the situation. There is no thought in an event like that, and I am ineffably relieved that I reacted properly. Jamming on the brakes would have sent me sliding into the car. I don't remember exactly what was there--a car in the left lane, somebody turning--but turning hard left would have sent me into someone else. I just whipped one turn left, braked till I started slipping, whipped back right, and rolled along my way, wishing I'da honked at the idiot who just almost wrecked my day. Thank you Lord! Please keep watching over me!

--CA

Gotta catch that air

THIS is what I should do with my Mazda! Especially the huge puddle of water to swash through after the jump :-)

[This post is in honor of our dear friend Mike Quinlisk. Video found and shared by Nate Rutman. Blog supported by viewers like you.]

Little Highlights

Some little highlights from my day at NOVA:

- The Good & Plenty's I snacked on all morning.
- Combining the warmed-up turkey and cheese with the two pieces of toasted bread for a delicious lunch.
- "FIIIRE!!" blasting through my speakers, sending me skittering to the volume knob, as Petra came on after a hushed song from Yo Yo Ma and the Silk Road Ensemble. All-library shuffle is awesome!
- Realizing that "Prec." stands for "Precipitators," meaning the second sump source on drawing AK-7771 is "Precipitator blowdown header at filter plant"--something that makes sense!
- Hearing music from Star Wars Episode I, which took me back the computer game of our childhood, "The Phantom Menace." Good memories, great music!
- Twice solving problems and giving firm answers to people by doing nifty searches through the complex waste shipments database. It's cool to feel useful, and to know how to do stuff other people don't. Mebbe I'm actually earning my pay! :-P
- Going to a site-wide meeting to hear a report on 2005 and our objectives for 2006. Lots of free food, and it knocked 2.5 hours out of the day.

The lowlight was driving home through the amazing downpour of rain, then clumpy snow/rain (snain??), then snow, then rain, then ice, and then more rain. My fervent prayers for protection were clearly answered, and I am at home now alive, and better yet, with no accidents.

$55 at Lawrence Music for a new saddle (synthetic ivory insteady of crappy plastic), new strings, and a set-up (adjusting the action and intonation) for my second acoustic (the plug-in one). It sounds much better now, mostly 'cause of the new heavy-gauge strings. Another half-a-hundred down the music drain...

I was in Indiana, PA this past weekend visiting David Altrogge. Trip report to come soon. It was a GREAT trip. God's people are matchless!

--Clear Ambassador

Yep, I'm an idiot

Just in case you were wondering, today did indeed turn out fine. I slept an hour (by choice) got to work 40 minutes after 7, stayed till 4, dropped off 2 guitars at Lawrence Music on the way home to get work done on them, ate a great healthy dinner, and came up here to do homework. I ended up reading the CD booklet for The Young & The Hopeless by Good Charlotte. Quite engaging and genuine-seeming, and emotionally honest and bare (like I like to be). Good music too, once I popped the CD in. I'm working on the problems a bit now, as I import songs into iTunes, but I'm really not that worried about turning in fully-completed homework sets. I took time to read chapter two slowly, and understood what I could from the text. Work went well, I got another project to work on (with clear action points, yay!), and the stop at the music store was sweet. Apparently I'm the envy of the whole staff because of Doug, the 70's Fender tube amp I picked up for $100 :-) One guy was like, "Is that that Fender...the one with the french fries in the back? Aw man, I wanted that!" :-) It's cool to have a piece of gear that's respected by professionals like those guys. I'm also excited to get this new regime of pickup switching installed in my Strat. I will have 17 different combinations of pickups to choose from!! Dude, I can't wait.

So, yeah. Life is good, even if I'll be turning in two half-completed homeworks tomorrow in class and my room is still messy and I don't know when I'll do laundry and I'll have to spend almost every weeknight next week working on this class.

And you know what breaks me down a bit? And THIS is why I wrote that post last night, and why I put it up on the internet, instead of just saving it in "My Documents." I was struck on the drive home as Marquis Laughlin read with hushed voice Mark's simple account of Jesus' arrest, "trial," and death. I was going on and on last night about all I was giving up, and the bleakness and hardness of the future, as I thought through the causes of my feelings. But I have only barely tasted loneliness, loss, broken relationships and pain. Jesus gave up INTIMATE LIFE WITH GOD THE FATHER as He approached the cross. He hung there with no bottom to His pain, no net to catch His fall from the Father's love, no caveat to lessen the brutal blade of God's wrath as it cut into His flesh and soul.

I literally got shivers up my back when it came to the part where Jesus uttered "a loud cry" and gave up the ghost. I imagine Christ endured the scourging silently, but for the reflexive groans of His physical body. I doubt He screamed as the nails were pounded through his wrists and ankles. I doubt He cried out beyond a sharp gasp as the cross slipped into its slot, popping out his shoulders. But when God turned His face away, Jesus cried out (illogically, by the way) "My God, My God! Why have You forsaken Me?" He knew why. He knew what He was doing; but still He couldn't help but cry out as He lost the Father. And in the end, when God's wrath came pouring down out of the holy throne room, Jesus screamed. He wrenched out with all the breath in His lungs. And died.

Jesus walked all the way down the horrific road of lonely temptation, comfortless pain, and bottomless suffering. And the rest of the New Testament goes on to celebrate what He won for us after He reached the end of that road. He did what I cannot imagine going through with, and all of heaven and earth will throw themselves down before Him at the last day and cry out, "Worthy is the Lamb Who was slain, to receive blessing and glory and honor, forever and ever."

AMEN. Look at Him tonight, please.

--Clear Ambassador

Caution: un-niceified thoughts ahead...

Here’s what I have to look forward to the next 3 months:

I have no independent life from 11pm to about 4:30pm the next day, each weekday. Except for Thursday, when I have no life until 9:00pm. Why from 11? Work doesn’t start till 7 or 7:30. Well, if I don’t get to bed by 11 at the very latest, the deathly sleepiness that hits me the next day doesn’t really qualify as “life.” The only time that’s left unaffected is the weekends, up until late Sunday afternoon, when Monday morning approaches. Sweet those weekends are, though they’re only 2/5ths of time, and they are not entirely free of the stacked-up requirements left by the shrunken weekdays.

Do you see what my days are like?? Every hour after 9pm threatens, condemns and jeers me with the lack of sleep it will produce. Every minute of my time is overshadowed by the looming threat of death on the roads the next morning, crippled productivity at work, and sapped initiative and energy at home. And when that time is gone, there is no recourse, nothing to help, nothing to change. It is 11:15 now. It will be 11:30 at least by the time I get into bed. I am damned, I am utterly helpless. The morning will go on, and a few hours will find me torn out of desperately-needed sleep, whipping down a dark highway at 67 miles an hour, and then sitting at a desk with great obligations and greater expectations upon me.

And on top of all of this, which is co-op rotation norm, I now have “Intermediate Physical Chemistry.”

6pm – 8:30pm every Thursday. Now not only do I suffer at work, but if I’m not getting enough sleep, the intense lecture passes by in a haze. Now not only do I have only a few crumbling hours each evening, but those hours are claimed by weekly homework. And it’s not a nice sit-down-for-3-hours-and-do-it homework. The professor is good, passionate, AND he has written this textbook. So he refers us to passages to read on our own, with no explanation in lecture, and those topics are included in the large set of lengthy, deep problems. These are not look-up-and-chug problems. These are problems which are probably pretty interesting and titillating to someone who knows Thermo like I know guitar. As in, our professor. I’m a smart person, and I was completely floored by several of the problems, unable to write even one equation or assumption or condition down. THIS is the depth of learning that I must get to to do well in this class. This kind of learning comes when you sell yourself to the subject, read the textbook, think, ponder, talk to the professor, and suffer through weeks of ignorance and confusion. And I only have a few hours every day to do this in!! And those hours are already over over over full with dozens of other pressing and attractive activities like family, church, friendships, recording, writing, practicing, playing, and room/life maintenance. Oh, and I’m supposed to be throwing my life into God now for this semester, diving into the spiritual disciplines, fasting, reading, praying, digging in to the relationships here at church. On what OTHER set of 24 hours???

Right now I am enveloped in one of my LEAST favorite feelings in all of life I’ve experienced so far (A few others have come up in the last 2 months. Hell of a time.): The sick despair of seeing what you need to know and do for a class and seeing that you are significantly behind that marker. I’ve experienced it with Thermo 2, Transport, Biochem, and several other classes. Every time it comes it grinds and grates me. Every time I get an A in the class. And I know what it takes to get that A, and I feel such utter hatred for doing that in this semester that I seriously wonder if it’s time to suck up a B or a C and just ditch the whole frikking class. I’m already basically ditching this homework since I gave it 3 hours and only got a couple of the problems, and I have a whole second set to do before Thursday since the textbook was inexplicably under-ordered and late-arrived at the bookstore last week. More than the points of homework, though, is the sick feeling of not knowing and comprehending at the level I need to, and feeling the hardness of thought and amount of time that will be required to get to that level of understanding. That is what is making me despair right now. I don’t want to put that in. The thought of putting it in is ineffably dry, difficult and dreary, and when I think of the precious precious time it will suck from the coming months, I just want to smash a large pane of glass with an axe, or punch my fist bloody on a wall.

Time, I hate you. I despise and hate you like a cringing dog hates the man who beats it—I can do nothing to stop you. The only remedies for the iron grasp of time is to let go more and more of the things I love—the things that flow from who I am. I could have spent 3 more hours on this homework tonight if I would not have worked on recording a new song that thrilled me on the drive home and has potential to be a beautiful representation of what I’ve been going through this past year. If I spend all the time I have every weekday other than rudimentary meals and barebones church and family events working on this class, I will do fine in it. I could even use the spare time to clean up my room and catch up on the elusive swirling tasks that have nagged me for weeks.

But what about working out every Monday, Wednesday and Friday right after getting home from work? What about the music that flows from my soul and delights my mind and heart like nothing else does? I can not and will not shut those things out, yet I don’t see how they can fit with this class, given the inescapable constriction of a full time job an hour away.

I believe this fully expresses my temporal situation. I feel like utter crap right now. If this is what “being a man” is, then being a man sucks. I cannot picture carrying out the lifeless days that appear to be required of me ahead. Life was bleak enough when I gave up AIM and other friendships to turn to the Lord. Now those days are looking golden and carefree.

And you know what’s most irritating of all? I’m being a complete idiot about all of this. No life could be as bad as I have pictured it above. I’ve felt this way before, and life goes on and I go merrily on through it. Every pouting, self-pitying, despairing word I type condemns me as a little stupid baby, while the specter of “a man” stands over me and condemns me. I am a stupid, weak, pleasure-ruled, lazy, undisciplined and immature idiot. The more I write, the more I drive myself down that hole. The further I distance myself from where I should be, and need to be.

. . .

I bet tomorrow morning I’ll feel pretty much fine when I wake up, and go on about my day, going through the hours tired or not, coming home, hopefully working out…it’s likely that when I come back to the homework on a fresh mind I’ll realize things and get further through it that I expected. And regardless, I’ll go to class Thursday, turn it in, and sit through the lecture as the time winds by. I will continue to work on the song that I thought of today, I will spend my entire weekend in Indiana with David Altrogge, and the next week will come. And it will go. And the first exam will come. And the first exam will go. I am trying to swallow all of that right now, and it is grinding me into sick misery. I feel the weight of all that will happen pounding upon me now. I look at what I imagine I will have to do, and hate the picture that develops.

But I’ll wake up tomorrow, and go to work, and talk to Tom, and laugh, and eat lunch, and enjoy the music on my iPod…..

Times like this, though, feel like they make the rest of my life irrelevant. I see what I am, and how my life goes on and on with undone tasks, sleep-deprived hazes, and mounds and mounds of things that should be and need to be but that aren’t. I look at my normal state as stupidly-happy incompetence, letting slip nearly all of necessity for scattered flights of pleasure and interest. I look at Ken, and his life, and marvel at its perfect purposefulness and discipline, and hate my life for its childishness. “A man” would never write a journal like this.

And outside of all these thoughts here sits God, who really doesn’t give a rip about almost any of this that I’ve been blubbering about. He sees this world for what it is, and wants me to throw myself into Him, taking all my pain and regret and despair and hatred and self-pity and fear and killing it on His altar. It is the sacrifice of all this that makes a man a man, and it is that sacrifice that I don’t want to do. I don’t see how I can shut down all of that, and I don’t want to give it up. But as always, I can’t do it all now, swallow it all now, shut it all off now, and utterly change who I am as a person. Day by day I walk, and God works. He doesn’t care if my life is like Ken’s. He doesn’t care if I respect myself as my idea of “a man.” He cares about His glory, and He wants to make much of Himself, and He knows that I will love that too, when these things are peeled off of me. What saddens me so is that there is no glory there for me. No grounds for self-pity, no grounds for enjoying myself and my stuff. Just letting go of all of me and caring about God.

Hm. But God made me who I am, and I bet He’ll use that IN that enjoyment of Himself. It doesn’t sound like God to require us to completely kill and forsake our individualities and personalities and drown ourselves in Him. That sounds more like eastern mysticism. Christianity is different because God is a person, and He is good. He’s all about His glory, yes, but He has tied that in with us, and made us to be fulfilled and delighted in His glory too.

I have no (or pitiful little) experience of that happening in a practical, continuing manner in myself. Ergo this despair of the future, ergo this self-pity at the bleak lifeless future that awaits me. Ergo my despising of myself. Ergo shutting myself up and going to bed, not stuffing these feelings down, but realizing that they are not the end of the story.

--I can’t even think of a signature to use that is honest but isn’t whiny and self-pitying. So here it is, all 2 sentences of it.

HAH. Whatever I feel like, there is ONE signature I can always use:

--Son of God

Sweet sweet practice

Good times. 28 hours in Akron, 9 hours of sleep, 8 or so hours of practice, 4 hours of driving, and about 3 hours' pay spent.

I left work early Friday since I had finished up the day's tasks and wouldn't have spent my time profitably. Arrived about 4:15, chilled with the dancers, jammed with Steve, and then set up when they were finished in the dance room. Brian came over, we had spaghetti, and then hit the practice. Pretty much went over our standard songs from our standard set. Renovated "My Plea," which really needed renovation, and is now pretty sweet and tricked-out. Stopped about 9:30 'cause my voice was gone. Hung out, got Philip to bed, and ended up going over to the Chima's for the night. Bed at 1:30, and I awoke from a sound sleep promptly at 9:30. Guess I'd gotten my 8 hours. I went back to sleep, though, till 10:30. Bri shower, me shower (no regular soap! I've smelled like creamy coconut body wash all day :-P), time wasting, and finally headed out.

We had TACO BELL...for BREAKFAST...at LUNCHTIME.

Pretty much sums up everything sweet about the first half of Saturday. "Sweet practice with amiable and adaptable musicians" probably sums up the other half. We played more songs, took awhile to get warmed up, and finally set about constructing a song from an idea Brian had. It's basically death metal craziness into happy Pure Boss sweetness. Amazing. Lots and lots of work into that song, and my right foot became incapacitated due to frenzied double-kicking. The drumming was very fun, though, and I'm respecting Brian and Stephen more and more on their respective instruments. They do stuff I can't do, and together we make a hot sweet band. (Hot modifies sweet, not band)

Wrapped it up at about 6:30, Bri took off, Steve and I took my stuff down, and I loaded the car, ate spaghetti, and talked to Mrs. Hoffman. Steve-O went to see "Glory Road" and Mr. H watched the playoffs. Finally I bid farewell and slipped down the icy driveway, ten minutes after 8, my target latest departure time. The drive back was quite good and neutral. I was a bit dehydrated from this stupid lingering cold, and I couldn't find the Braeburn apple I had been craving, but I was plenty awake, the road was friendly, I slid the seat back, and there were a couple things from the Bible CD that stood out to me as Marquis Laughlin read through Matthew. "Whenever two or three are gathered together, I am there." Pure Boss is three, gathered together in the basement of the Hoffmans. God is there with us! That's cool, and partially sobering. We oughta do what we do for Him, and aware of Him. "Why did you doubt?" (as Peter sunk into the Sea of Galilee on his way walking to Jesus). He could have said "Don't doubt, it's silly!" or "You should not have doubted." But He just said, "Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?" Why do I doubt? It's a simple question, and forthright consideration of it will yield the statements above, and many others. It is also partially rhetorical, given the fact that Jesus was standing on the water Himself. It shows how foolish doubt in God is, when things are viewed in the proper perspective. And it is kind. He doesn't upbraid Peter, He just asks. Child; friend; My son. Why do you doubt?

So yeah, it was a good weekend, and I was glad that as I left I didn't feel distant from God in my thoughts. That's an indicator that the weekend was not spent off in a flurry of my own, filling my mind and obscuring God. We had worked hard, talked, and chilled before Him, and I believe our time was spent profitably, as well as quite pleasantly and productively.

I sure hope we can record a second album! Future self, have you recorded a second album? Heh, I wish I knew. Geez, I sure wish I knew what I'm doing now, as I read this. But now is the time that I'll be looking back on, and I've got to both work through it and, more importantly, enjoy and exploit it to its fullest potential. When else in my life will I be praying with the ferocity of undeterminedness about school, job, career, wife, calling, location, and fundamental relationship with God?? In probably 5 years all of those will be more or less set. Now is the time of unknown, open future, many possibilities, and great potential. This time will be past someday, but right now I'm living it, and I don't want it to go by unappreciated or unrealized.

Lord God my Father, direct my steps by Your word I pray, and let no iniquity have dominion over me. Align my heart with Your will, perfect Lord, and please give me wisdom. Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever.

Amen.

--Clear Ambassador

Tres cosas

Three things that are sweet:

1. Taking 60 North instead of 60 South this afternoon when I leave work (Meaning I'm going to Akron).
2. iPod with 10 gigabytes of music on shuffle. RelientK Christmas meets Lynrd Skynrd meets peaceful Phil Keaggy acoustics meets throbbing Nordic folk music meets Star Wars.
3. Posting from work :-D

Sleep is sweet, too, but I don't have enough of that right now.

--Clambassadorear

F breeds C

Jesus, help me not devalue Your friendship merely because of its certainty :-/

The cost of fitness

How do you motivate yourself to work out? Try paying $140 for a 3-month membership to a gym! Dude, even if I work out 3 times a week every week of the membership period (which already ain't gonna happen), it still works out to be about $4 per visit.

But if it will get me to work out, it's worth it.

And it's not too bad considering the cost is covered by a day's wages at Nova.

Here's to pumped-up muscles after working out making you feel like your buff :-D

--JPB

PS - how deeply ironic that in America now you have to pay such an extraordinary amount for the *privelidge* of working your body. Most of the rest of the world either works their bodies or dies! :-/

Five Peeps and a Beagle

WE ARE ALL HOME!

And by "all," I actually mean Dad, Mom, Ken, John, Daniel and Daisy--the full compliment of Pittsburgh Behrenses.

Mom has been gone since December 14th, as has Daniel (disregarding a 2-day stint here before flying to Orlando to run a half marathon in Disney World). Ken and Dad joined me here last Tuesday after Christmas/New Year's and today saw Daniel's airborne return from Florida and Mom's land-based arrival from Chicago. Verily, not in...months? A year? have we all been here together. Pretty cool. Mostly way cool to have Mom, Daisy and Daniel back. Ken is always gone, but their absence was felt keenly. Though God did use it to show me that I can indeed live alone, or mostly alone, and survive in a state other than abject misery. In fact, I'll have to watch now that I don't set my plates down on the hearth or leave candy up on my bed, since the little four-legged food monster is back on the prowl :-)

Grandpa is home from the hospital now (after a month there!), which is the biggest piece of good news in a long time. He's still very weak and eating little, but he walks around a bit and has at least some semblance of normalcy to his life. Grandma is now full time nurse and keeper of the house, which is a challenge only God's grace can (and is) meet(ing).

My co-op job is going pretty well, though the magnitude and difficulty of my work load is challenging my innate laziness, and the early mornings are ruining my evenings. 'Tis good, though, and fertilizer to the field of my character. (hmm. Some parallels with manure come to mind... :-P)

Funny how easy it is to fill time in the evenings, even with AIM gone. Ugh.

I'm off to read the Gospel of John. Holy Spirit, please turn my eyes to Christ! Fill my gaze with Him, as You love to do, and may that captivation propel me to ditch sin and enjoy God.

Direct my steps by your word, and let no iniquity have dominion over me.
Make Your face shine upon Your servant, and teach me Your statutes (Ps. 119:133 & 135).

Thusly does the psalmist voice the cries of my heart with the words of God.

--Clear Ambassador

A few items

This first item is not a journalistic entry addressed to my future self. It is actually intended for whoever is reading this blog at the moment:

There are many many things which are harmful for our bodies. Many of these occur naturally but are harmful in excess, especially over time. Some of these do not need to be in excess in order to be experienced or enjoyed. Two items in this last category are salt and high frequencies.

Salt is in nearly everything we eat, and adding it makes almost any food immediately taste better. However, long-term excessive consumption of salt is harmful (I don't know the specific effects. ..Shannon?). I have made it a conscious decision for a long time to not add any salt to the food I'm served. It's a clear action I can do to significantly lower my long-term salt intake. Yes, giving a shake of salt would make many things taste better (sometimes things really needed it :-P) , but I have found that 4 times out of 5, after a minute or two, I don't even notice it. You can wean yourself from salt, and fully enjoy eggs, meat, casseroles, pasta, etc. without adding any extra.

High frequencies in sound are very similar. Any sound, when loud enough, damages our hearing, but high frequencies contain the most energy, and thus are the most damaging. Play around with an EQ for a few minutes, though, and you'll find that turning up the highs instantly makes any music sound a lot better to your ears--clearer, more distict, more present, more pleasing. As with salt, though, if you just don't turn up the highs in your car, or in your headphones on your laptop, or wherever, within 30 seconds you won't notice the difference. Your ears are startlingly adept at acclimating to sound characteristics, so even if it sounds flat and lifeless at the moment when you take down the highs, 5 minutes later you'll be blissfully unaware, and you'll have taken one more little step towards prolonging your lifelong hearing. Over time you will train your ears to fully enjoy music without needing to slam the treble to get tht "crisp high."

So: I want to encourage you to eschew the salt shaker and keep your high EQ flat, or even dip it down, if you get that far. They are very simple, easy actions to do, and will yield certain long-term benefits.

Now back to blogging as normal...

I've been thinking about this blog lately, spurred by some strong uneasiness about a few past posts, and mostly about ideas I've had for things to post about. I have sensed the tendency to fall into Thoreau's error of elevating commonalities to unrealistic significance, dedicating attention to pedestrian details of my life that is laughably unwarranted. I am a big fan of unshielded honesty (except where it would not serve others) and the value of the spontaneous, and in the past I have run with that, justifying my posts by the purportedly inherent value of top-of-the-head thoughts and impressions. I still fundamentally think that that is a good philosophy for dealing with other people, but I have come to realize that my motivation for writing about little things that come to my mind can be simply pride, springing from a desire to portray my life and mind as incredibly significant and meaningful.

Pfft. :-P

So, I will still write up stuff, put forth my life with no unneccesary concealment, and depict as best I can who I am, but I will not consciously indulge my inflated pride and introspective delusions of significance. Is it helpful to wax eloquent about naming my iPod Jack? It is true that I thought about many names, as I stared at it, and none of them "fit" until Jack, but it's not that big of a deal. I shouldn't waste my words portraying it as though it is. It is helpful to think long and hard about my decision to quit AIM and the reasons for it, since clarification of that topic will serve my readers and remind myself, in the future, of what God was doing in my heart at this time.

So, *sigh*, I find myself indeed, after many protestations, applying a filter to the thoughts that I skim off the top of my head. I myself do not bear inherent significance (much as I'd like to think so), and thus I must subject my thoughts and feelings to the criteria of the only One who does carry self-existent worth: The creator God.

May His face shine upon every word I type here.

--Clear Ambassador

AIM

Well, here's part of what was making me so sad after the Akron trip. As I was driving along in the dark car I was playing something on the satellite radio. It was crackling a bit, which usually means the FM channel it's transmitting to is being used by a regular radio station. So I shut off the XM so I could find an unoccupied frequency. In an instant "Stars" by Switchfoot was filling my car. It was apparently playing on the station that I was on, and the volume had been up for the satellite radio. That familiar music pounded through me, and I very nearly just sunk into it, letting the song which had been with me though so many trips and experiences and emotions just carry along all my feelings and undefined sadness. But I balked at that, since it wouldn't be honoring the intent with which the guys in Switchfoot made the song. So I held out and focused on the words, as the music poured through me. It built up, and when it hit the chorus, "When I look at the stars...I see Someone else," I just cried. I cried hard. I cried exactly until all the chemicals built up in my body from the emotions of the morning had excreted themselves through my tear ducts, and then stopped. But I didn't cry because of chemicals, I cried because that music gave me a glimpse of what I was doing these days. I was coming home and turning on the computer, seeking there warmth and light and companionship to make me feel "settled" and bring me joy. I had begun to realize lightly in the weeks and days before that those longings needed to be taken to God, and I needed to rest my feet on HIM when I came home to an unfriendly and empty room at night.
I cried because I saw God looking down on me as I turned this way and that, throwing myself upon others, disregarding His imminent riches and worth, opened up to me by His wrenching sacrifice.
I cried for the grief I had caused God, my God, sitting in heaven while I poured myself into the earth.
And I knew right then, as Jon Foreman's voice cut through the car, that I had to uninstall AIM from my computer. There could be no justification for leaving it on there, given what I saw now. And in that realization I saw the picture--as I cut off that lifeline (for that really is what AIM is for me), I would have NO CHOICE but to fall on God. It would force the issue, and precipitate the reality of relationship I have been painfully lacking for so long.

Now, uninstalling AIM alone will not thoughtlessly and effortlessly bring this change. I've got to keep myself from seeking the same comfort in this blog, or in emails, or in other forms of communication. When I feel that weird nasty bottomless alone feeling, I've got to take it to God. When the room around me seems bleak and the night gaping and friendless, I've got to take out my Bible and read it with my heart hanging out over the words. I've got to take my desires to God to be met. It was dumb to expect that I could continue sucking pleasure from AIM and God would somehow blast in and create in me a functional dependent relationship on Him. Yes He can, yes he sure's heck saved me out of the blue from total rebellion from Him...but it's not right to just sit back and expect Him to effortlessly work all these huge heart changes in me. As God is real, I will lean into Him with my present and real feelings and needs. (Feelings are real in that they are actually experienced; not that they accurately represent factual reality)

Such is my reason for hitting the "Uninstall AOL Instant Messenger" item from the pop-up menu. I see now that it's still going to be a battle, since the time for reading and praying in the evenings doesn't just present itself, and I can easily turn to other things to make myself feel better. But I've made a big change, and I made it in firm hopes of change and growth.

The next four or six months are a key time in my life. If I don't get my relationship with God grounded and settled in a practical and enduring manner, how can I expect to do so any easier as I enter the last brutal months of ChemE classes and approach an unknown future of job and hopefully family?

Onerous are the duties which require themselves of me. Bleak, in many ways and many moods, is the future that stares at me. Sickeningly weighty are the years that hang in the balance. Stern is the model that I fall so short of. If I could pick any one thing to NOT do, it would be this: forsaking the known and joyous comforts of free time and IM and spending my fleeting hours and flying energy on God. I despair of this because I don't yet know the pleasures that are at God's right hand. But even now the emotion of the past few days has calmed down a lot, and I'm more aware of the pragmatic peace of God's sovereignty and the simple things that need to be done in the coming days.

I've got a lot to think about, a lot to do, and a LOT hinging upon the next few months. I don't know when I'll return to Instant Messenger, and I don't know what else God might call me to give up, and I cannot picture what I will look like as someone who actually loves God and enjoys Him Himself and does spiritual disciplines. It is a void I'm stepping into, and in the mood I'm in right now, I'm somewhat expectant to see what will turn out to be in that void.

Peace out.

--Clear Ambassador