In Response to Jason

Here you go, folks! Luke and Leia, in all our costumed glory.

Most of that glory was on Leia's side :-)


We sang a Luke and Leia version of the Brady Bunch theme. The last picture is when we were singing "The Skywalker Bunch, The Skywalker Bunch." Word on the street is that that was the best part. And no Jason, I'm not putting up audio files of our singing so you can hear :-P

Good times.

--Clear Ambassador/Luke Skywalker

Outfits and Music

Today I went through six outfits. The first was what I woke up in - sleepy pants and a T-shirt. Then I hurriedly got dressed and rushed out to get a coconut and a pineapple at Shop 'n' Save and costume materials at the thrift store. That was grey painter pants, "I'm a Pepper" T-shirt and the leather jacket. Then I got home, decided I wouldn't stay at Pitt between my 11am meeting with Career Services and the honors convocation at 1:45, and threw on my new Aero khakis, dark blue button-up shirt with the vertical grey stripes (one of my current favorites), leather jacket, and Pumas. Then I got home, cut up pineapple, and changed into my interview suit. Ahhhhh. Convocation, long and numerous speeches, backwoods way home, and then the "holding pattern" outfit before I put my Luke Skywalker costume together: same khakis, white T and blue long-sleeve T from the Harveys. The Skywalker outfit was lighter khakis, stocking-like wraps around akles and feet, big baggy off-white sweater with the collar and cuffs cut off, and a tunic-ish piece of canvas wrapped around my shoulders and tucked in under a belt. It felt weird and I wasn't thrilled with it, but word on the street is it was pretty sweet :-) And the last outfit is this, which is the same, minus the feet wraps and tunic thingey.

Not many days see me changing that much.

I like putting outfits together, trying to get stuff that I think looks cool or nifty, and trying to get things that look cohesive together. Enjoyable to think about and work on.


Today was the first time I have ever really felt someone enjoying my music. I've heard about people liking it and listening to it at home or singing along, and goodness knows I've played guitar a million times at various gatherings and hang-outings, but today was different. I sat around in the Pierson's living room and played a bunch of old songs from Elvis and Hank Williams and the Beatles from a new songbook with some Q's and Piersons listening and Mitchell keeping up on some bongos. I played one song of my own, which Mr. Pierson liked, but there's nothing like the way people enjoy old favorites like Hey Jude or "The Times They Are A-Changin'." It was a really nice time--flopped around the room, playing, singing, listening, and finding my way through familiar songs guided by my wonderful new songbook (lyricbook, actually). Mr. Pierson really enjoyed it, and said so, and that was very cool. I know I love sitting here on the hearth with a low fire and no lights playing Danny Boy or some old Hank Williams, singing to the silence and abiding in the music, so it was kind of amazing to be able to do that for somebody else. It's a feeling I want to chase.

My mind is in a bit of conflict, though. In the last few months I've grown to love playing those old songs, and when I'm singing it's like I'm singing right from my soul, even if it's a song about being long-gone-lonesome-blue after your lover left you. But they're somebody else's songs, and I have traditionally put far more value and weight on what I myself can produce. So why does it feel so "productive" to sing those songs? Why doesn't it feel like artistic hypocrisy to sink into something somebody else wrote and sing it and feel it like it's my own?

For one thing, regardless of analysis, I think I'm understanding better the value and artistic solidity of singers--something I've traditionally sneered upon. I think there's more than I thought to taking and owning a song and singing it out in a way that affects other people.

For another thing, I know practically it takes a fair amount of time and many listens to grow to truly love a song, even if it's a very good song. So, even if all my songs were as good as Hank Williams, nobody would care until they'd heard them a bunch. It's pragmatically unrealistic to expect people to enjoy and "sink down into" songs I've written which they're hearing for one of the first times. Playing standards connects me to the profound and deep associations that people have with music from their past. There are a couple people on this earth for whom one of my songs might be like that, but other than that, I'm several wide tiers below something like "Heartbreak Hotel."

So... as I keep coming to in regards to music, most of what is lacking in my stuff is out of my control. I can't make people hear and love my songs and develop years of experience with them. So what can I do? I can keep writing songs. What's my one hope of writing a song that has the potential to be loved? To write another song. It might be the one. And it is definitely a step on the way. If you write 100 genuine songs, you've got a good chance of having one or two truly good ones in the bunch.

And lastly, I want to do this more! I want to be able to create that peace and serenity that comes when you sink down into the music that's playing and mouth the words and let the time pass by pleasantly. The power to make someone happy or peaceful, or excited or jolly, is an amazing thing. I think it's what drives comedians and performers and bands and writers and artists of all molds, and I think I've gotten a little taste of it. Would that I could make my living doing such.


Pineapple - $4
Coconut - $3
Thrift Store stuff - $10
36 miles of driving - $3 of gas

Cost of the day's activities: $20

Living is expensive.

--Clear Ambassador

Categorically Pleased

For those who don't use Facebook, here's word of a new song I wrote in response to the sentiments expressed about the Cabin Fever Festival. I came up with it Monday night and recorded a simple playing-singing demo at about 3am. I think the writing was blessed by God, 'cause the song's in about 6 different keys, and it's quite free from the verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus confines of most of my writing. The key thing is especially amazing. I have lamented countless times my seemingly inescapable bondage to I-IV-V chords, and stared longingly through the window at stuff like Beatles songs that effortlessly move from G to Bb to F# and back again. Now I find myself possessor of such a song, and it's sweet!

I'm also happy with it because it's a happy, peppy song, as opposed to the soft sensitive fare I usually spit out. The words do a good job expressing how I felt Sunday night--enough specifics ("My boring heart has been overcome," "I got to see what your plans had become") to give substance to the feelings, but not so much that it becomes cheesy or unrelatable. Oh, and the whole song was written and recorded on the little baby guitar I bought at the rummage sale last month :-)

So, yeah: I'm categorically delighted with this song! The link is below. There are a few botched chords and one extended "yeah" during a page turn, but it captures the song quite well. Enjoy!

All the Things that You've Done

And also, I've updated about 12 of the songs on my website with better mixes. In particular, Brother, On My Side, End of the Day, Slips Away and Traveling Far Into the Night are much improved. There's still plenty of work to do, but they're better.

--Clear Ambassador

For Future Self

Today Mom woke me up out of a sound sleep at 1:15. I popped up, disconcerted that I had slept away so much of the day. I guess Sunday was more tiring than I had realized. I jumped up, grabbed my cell phone (whose alarm I had apparently somnolently shut off), ran upstairs and sat in the sunshine in the living room to figure out what to do with the day and week. My trusty sheet of 8.5 x 11 paper was soon covered. It's amazing how much there is to do when you aren't doing anything.

I got all my starred items done. Yay.
I laboriously drank a bottle of coconut soda. Not soon to be repeated.
There's a costume party Friday. Yay! What should I dress as?
I HATE MY RECORDINGS AND MY VOCALS!!! I can't even express my disgust after listening to my second complete recording of "When You Were In Love." I feel helpless at the feet of my garbage voice. No matter how much I feel what I'm singing, it comes out shaky, weak and off-pitch. It's kicking me in the face right now. How can it be so easy sometimes, and so gratingly hard other times?

Last Friday I experienced the marvelous art of dentistry. I went in to get a little pothole cavity filled, but the real work was in cleaning out and bonding two depressions in my next-to-front upper teeth (which probably came from braces). He also bonded the tooth I chipped playing basketball years ago. It's amazing--I looked in a mirror right after he finished, and couldn't even tell where he'd been working. And it's so nice having a tip to that tooth again! I keep feeling it's wonderful smoothness with my tongue :-) So, yay for dentists. Covering and replacing stuff like that is basically sculpting, with a flat-edged thingey instead of a chisel, and in a mouth instead of a studio.

We've made several major changes to the house in the past month. The first was getting a new kitchen table (at last!). No more dark formica four-leg in the light oak kitchen. Now we have an exactly-matching light oak trestle table with sweet sweet chairs. We got rid of the big cheap computer/file desk and now the flat screen is on Mom's old white school desk, which takes up less than half the room, leaving the area gloriously open. The chairs have vertical "bars" on the back, and they look so cool around the table! Evokes a feeling similar to that of seeing yuccas or wild oats in landscaping (both of which I really like).

THEN, we got a couch in the basement! We took out the big honkin' school table, put the weight bench next to the elliptical, put Dad's desk where Mom's used to be, and put the couch against the east wall. This leaves the space in front of the treadmill open (until we put the old computer desk there. BOOOO) and a wonderful wide strip of floor between the weight bench and the drumset. Which I was able to move out and over a few inches and re-set-up. It's lovely now--all compact, big and glistening. The couch is so sweet, and there's such an open feel, I just love being down there. Ahh, it makes me happy every time I look around.

I think that does it. I still need to read some Psalms and pray. Thus endeth a random and poorly-written slice of life. This is definitely a for-future-self post :-)

--Clear Ambassador

Cabin Fever Festival

John just finished eating his left arm, and is consequently full of himself.



I thought of that a few days ago, but had nowhere to put it since Facebook statuses must be worded in the third-person present tense. Now it serves as a clever attention-grabbing intro to what I was going to start this post with:

I am full.

But not full of myself, as would normally be the case. I'm full of God. It happened over the course of about 90 minutes. I didn't go out with all the YPCG'ers (Youth Parent Care Groupers) and Akron kids Saturday handing out hot chocolate or going door-to-door giving out "Cabin fever survival packets." I didn't skip care group for the prayer and worship time Friday night that kicked off their "mission trip" here to serve our church. I watched Hitch with Daniel and Justin Saturday after setup at the Middle School, so I didn't get to hear the debrief from the day's outreach. I was 100% occupied with the music during the whole festival Sunday after church, and I didn't even sit with any of the kids from Akron Saturday night or tonight at Cici's. So I was feeling quite removed and outside the whole event. I didn't even go hang at the Pierson's after teardown this afternoon! I drove Daniel back home, unloaded the van-full of heavy music equipment, and flopped heavily into this chair to check some email, wondering why I was thinking of driving 45 minutes to Bridgeville to pay $5 for more pizza and more outsidefeelingness. But I went, thinking I was being a stubborn fool as I slipped and slid across the snow-caked roads in the brittle cold.

The pizza was good; I got to listen to Mr. Pierson and Bob talk about high-level stuff, and the Dr.Pepper was fine (though the ice was still lousy). During the debrief back at the presbyterian church I slowly began to see the sea of faces light up into hearts alive to God. Bob kept at the kids, finally whittling it down to calling out single words to describe the day, how they felt, what they saw in God, and what of God they wanted to take back home. He was fantastic at leading and prodding the group, and the picture began to fade in on the polaroid film in my head. Semi-sullen teen faces I'd seen swirling cotton candy out of a shivering machine or setting up pop bottle bowling pins in the IMS cafeteria were now talking about God--a God they had just seen and felt in action. Bob was ebullient at seemly every word the kids said. My cynical conclusions slowly began to change as I saw his genuine excitement and began to think about what was actually being said, and what it meant. Then we adjourned as churches to different rooms to write names down on our white stones (little reminders of eternity, based on the white stone God will give us at the end of this world with our own name on it). Mr. Pierson did it by having our group toss out "names" (and attending explanations) for each person in turn. Danielle wrote them all down, and we determined one for Katie to write on the stone (with her fine Calano handwriting and a fine fine-tipped Sharpie).

We started with Mr. Pierson, he picked me next, and then we proceeded around the circle, each turn lifting a veil off of a "kid" and showing the amazing and alive work of God underneath. Ah, how stupid am I to have such a veil in the first place! People like Mr. Pierson and Shannon see such good in others! But regardless, there were so many great traits and touching explanations brought up by every body in that room that I left packed full and overflowing with the work of God in this group of kids. To see how different acts affected people in peculiar ways, and how such acts and behaviors were internalized by others . . . it left me laughing at my penchant for feeling that things can't work without me :-) There's something behind this group and it's driving from below and inside, pushing out leadership and friendliness and kindness from shy, quiet, selfish 14-year-olds. I want to go to every YPCG meeting from now on! I want to keep seeing that work going on, so opposite my highly intelligent unbelief.

I want to remember how I feel right now. I want to remember that experience of singing worship songs when we readjourned -- not singing "Great is the Lord" because it was up on the screen, but because I was flat-out amazed at the ridiculous and impossible things He had just done! Maybe, maybe this is a touch of the taste of God that I've been crying out for. I just thought of that. It wasn't an inescapable burning of my soul in the solutide of the night, but it was real, and it surpassed the inveterate plains of this pedestrian life that have left me faithless and lifeless in so many ways.

It was great! I'm so glad I went! I want more of God! I want to see more of His working, and I want to see what He has around the next bend in the road.

I've waxed rather grandiose in language here, but there really was a fire of amazement when we left that room in the big ol' Westminster Presbyterian Church in Upper Saint Claire. I pretty much just grabbed Wes Taylor by the shoulders and vented my excitement at what God was doing in the group :-) It's exciting, and I'm just filled with love for Mr. Pierson, for the guys in the youth group, and I guess for the God who breathes sparkling life into all of these people.

It was also really cool tonight when we got home. I hung around and talked to the 3 guys who are staying here (Plus an adult, Marty, who went to bed shortly after catching up on ESPN :-) ), who had a lot of questions and comments about music and my gear. Once again, these bland teenagers came to life before me. It hurts to say it so forthrightly, but that's how evil and cynical my heart is. We talked about instruments, they wanted to go see my studio downstairs, and we carried on a great conversation over the plentiful snacks laid out on the counter. It was also remarkable because I think subtly I had their respect, since I'd been up jamming with Justin and Daniel all afternoon, hashing out sweet stuff (speaking objectively here) on electric guitar in front of a bunch of impressive amps and gear. It's so rare that I feel anything but coming-from-behind with [what I consider] my peers that it leaves a strong mark on my memory. It's not a particularly useful, accurate or Kingdom-advancing thing, but it was noteworthy. And revelatory: A) They're not bland teenagers. B) I actually am a bit older than highschoolers.

Last thing: One other aspect of amazement from the meeting. What do you think my name was? What do you think this self-absorbed, ghastly-judgmental, distracted, music-obsessed cynic was described as?

"Worshipper"

Two years ago (I think.. roughly) I stepped off the worship team because all I was doing was playing my instrument.




I MEAN LOOK AT IT!! Apparently even that stepping off had an effect on some people because of its supposed humility. Hah! Man, how God works to advance His will through the very sin-soaked actions of his foolish, belligerent people! How two years of deep sin and dryness can be to some a testimony of humility and worship! How we are CLOTHED with righteousness and REDEEMED from destruction and WASHED from sin and FORGIVEN of pride and COVERED with the shining radiance of God's very Son!

How great is our God.

--Clear Ambassador

"Life" Magazine

Wow people. I just lost 36 minutes of work prying through my heart and mind writing about what's been going on these last months. As the mouse froze and turned to an hourglass I prayed before God and spoke to myself the smallness of 36 minutes of my time and the goodness of God, but it still hurts inside. Down an inch below my solar plexus, right where it twists like a burning knot when I get angry. It feels wrong to let that go. Anger is a mystery, but when that little knot twists and burns, it destroys all knowledge, thought, feeling and desire before its cry to express itself. The more you let it out, though, the bigger it gets and the more has to come out. It's a strange thing, and totally mysterious to some people, like Daniel. Thankfully he'll rarely if ever have to know the pain of shutting that up and letting it go before God. The pain of admitting that you're small and have no legitimate claim upon such self righteousness and wrath. The pain of letting that burning knot smoulder away like a missed opportunity. I think in some ways that's the crux of humility. Right in that moment admitting, in an enormously practical way, that you're not important. I'm guessing that other people come to that crux in different, but equally as agonizing, ways. In fact I'm sure, 'cause otherwise I would have a genuine claim on some self pity.

So. There's a paragraph I didn't plan to write! Now you know what it's like to be an angry person. It sucks. Don't try it.

Life right now is ridiculously great. I have no job, no school of any kind, a big comfy roof over my head, expensive, healthy and tasty food in the kitchen, a killer car, and a couple thousand bucks to pay for the car and any trifling amenities I may choose to buy to suit my passing fancy. I know this is an unrealistic and fleeting period, so I am trying to enjoy it (not hard) and utilize it (not easy) as much as possible. Basically, if I don't get things done now, when I have ALL the time in the world (literally. Every one of the day's 24 hours is mine), then I really am a complete fool and screwed for life.

So, I made lists on blank sheets of white paper (the only way I operate), starred important items, and crossed 'em off, one by one, day after day. I got a lot of annoying stupid simple little things done like scheduling a dentist appointment. That seriously took me 4 months to do, people. I'm an idiot. New wiper blades and battery for Pepsi Blue (ohhh, how it cranks that cold engine! Ahhhh); calls made, emails sent, room cleaned... there were some solid weeks. I went to Akron twice in January and once so far in February. It felt nice to be on top of things. I've even been reading the Bible - 5 Psalms a day and I'm keeping up. I'm speaking in past tense 'cause right now I feel like I'm careening again. But whatever. I'm not giving up, and there isn't a good way to talk more on that without digressing. Reading the Bible has been good. It paid off more quickly than I thought. Getting some real truth input is satisfying and restful in a kind of deep way, and I've even desired a few times to read the Bible over stuff like TV or Facebook. I think it's like working out - a hard habit to form that will always be easy to slip out of and builds in time to where you wish it could be right away. So I'm sticking with it, and praying what I prayed at the Men's Retreat: that I wouldn't be alone in this battle. Christ is what I seek and what I need, and what I've never really had. I think praying tooth and nail is the only thing that's going to keep this time from being just another spritual bump in the road of failure. It seems crazy that my life could genuinely change, and I could actually read the Bible and live under God from now on, but for crying out loud, it's got to happen some time, doesn't it?? Life is screwy dude.

Anyway, trips to Akron. I went once right after the New Year, and Justin, Daniel, Heather, Mike and Shannon came too. We took two cars, and everybody else was self-sufficient. I did mostly band stuff, practicing and working out new songs with Brian and Steve-O, while the others hung with the Tuminos or Murphys or Smiths and entertained themselves quite nicely. That was kind of a strange feeling, but it was very nice and restful to not have them be my responsibility. Band stuff went sweet, and we've got some great new songs (City Lights Behind Me, Dog Show, my new one). Then I went back a couple weeks later for a full weekend to try out a possible NEW DRUMMER!

Yes indeed, after speculatin' and ruminatin' about getting a fourth person in the band for years, we realized that Alex Morgan plays drums really well (He won a drum set at last year's Akron drum festival), he's a really nice guy, and he just might fit. We practiced with him that Saturday, and it went brilliantly. We worked out another new song, he had a blast, and it just seemed to work. So we talked about it Sunday down in the Chima's sweet basement, and decided that, barring a couple questions (which he answered himself pretty much), he was in. It was cool, but sobering for me because, well... it's never going to be just me, Brian and Stephen down in the basement again. And it's going to take a LOT of work to get Alex up to speed. I figure it'll take us basically a year before we're in full concert form again (which has taken the three of us 2 years to achieve). It's a lot of work for me, in particular, 'cause my drumming isn't your typical modern emo style, and it's going to take a lot of patient input and steeling myself to musical nonidealities to get things settled. But it's worth it to be up front playing guitar and rocking out :-) Ohh, it's AMAZING! Just glorious to be playing guitar, jumping and running around as I feel inclined, singing like a normal person, and getting into that sweet zone when things are clicking on the guitar and you play good stuff well.

I came up again this past Monday and Tuesday and practice this time was pretty hard. We got bogged down in "Just in Time," we got tired ('cause we ate no food), and things just didn't sound too great. But that's the band. Good times, bad times, and freakin' awesome times. So far Alex has gotten the bad and the freakin' awesome :-) And by the way, we discussed it a bit down in the basement, and I don't think God's calling us to sell out and haul butt with the band, so it'll be staying just a nice hobby and fun thing for friends. Unless God has a record deal out there. And then I'm gone like diddy-kong :-D

Akron is cool. Steve is a great friend. Philip is fun and funny. The Hoffman's mini pool table is GREAT :-) It's fun to watch people grow up and mature, to get to know folks better, to talk with the adults at church, to drive across Milton Lake on the way down, to have Philip laugh at my stupid jokes, to let the day unfurl unencumbered, and to sit down in the basement and hash out new music with Steve-O. We did that a ton last time I was up, and it was great. Just sitting around for hours passing the guitar between us, blurting out ideas, shutting up and listening to creativity outside of yourself, singing lyrics off the top of your head that form a perfect song, abiding with the music, and having a song grow as you let it settle down into your consciousness. We have a new song that's just me on acoustic and Steve on violin, and it's killer! I love that we keep writing songs, and they seem to be getting better and staying creative. I doubt we'll ever get that raw, simple directness of "Hypothesis," but our stuff will sound a lot better and be much more presentable.

On to the job.

When one has spent four years working hard to get a degree in chemical engineering, one should probably start making 60 grand a year off of it. Especially when one was just shy of a 4.0, and when one wants to get married as soon as God wills. However, I am currently at a standstill, face to face with the curse on mankind, that we will till the earth by the sweat of our brows. Quite truly, work sucks. It's hard! Engineering jobs are really hard! You know how much effort and involvment it takes to remodel a room or buy a new car? That's what we do all day every day, just with stuff that's more complicated. Forty years of that is a bit daunting.

But more than that, I'm facing forty years of never getting everything done that needs to be done. I've seen it with Dad, and I've lived it myself during busy semesters: Life in middle class America contains 2 to 3 times more things to do than time to do them. It's not a cliche or "busyness," it's an endless, tumbling, careening stream of undone, unfinished, and unmet mess. You get the paycheck, you pay the bills, you help with Exploring Christianity 'cause they need people, you go out with your wife Friday night, and the basement walls remain dirty and unfinished, the busted garage door opener sits next to the van, you never replied to that email, and the piles of paper sit like shifty towers in the living room mocking you. You go to bed at night vaguely uneasy at everything in limbo around you, and the next day is gone before you had time to floss, which you really want to start doing! [OK, this paragraph is legions better the second time through. It sucked to lose my previous work, but I knew even then that it has its benefits.]

Sometimes I think I've just missed something and I'm out of place here and I should leave everything and live a dirty simple life in Fiji or Russia. But I think this is just a point in life where I am pausing and I have to make a definitive and conscious decision to dive back in. I'm still bugged by the feeling that all of this is just wrong and we should be able to take care of everything and have a peaceful bottom to life, but, looking over what I just wrote, I think what Dad says is right (this keeps happening! The man is like a wisdom Gobstopper): It's about priorities. In my little scenario above, you make money, you keep the house and food going with the bills, and you invest in your church and marraige. All of those are fundamentally important, while the dirty walls and piles.. aren't. I'm not quite sure what to do with the feelings that keep nagging me, but I think a crazy over-taxed life that leaves behind godly children, a strengthened church, encouraged friends, and a radiant, loved wife is not wrongly lived. I just wish that that could all be done withOUT the craziness and trainwreck.

If God calls me to something different than the path walked by my father before me and his father before him, I am ready and willing. As far as I can know my heart, I am willing to pull up everything and go anywhere, leaving anything behind (friends, home, studio, 4000 songs, car...), if I know it's God's will. And that's where I'm at right now. There are a dozen things I could go do, but I don't know which is the right path to throw myself into. I've been doing a sucky job at pretty much everything, but that's 'cause I never go whole hog into any one thing. I'm splintered up between 4 instruments, 2 cities, 2 albums, engineering, church, family, and peace. I believe that, to some degree, God needs to show me where to go. Dad reminded me that God's after my heart (yieldedness), and He rarely just unveils all his plans to you and lets you run off, but I do think I need some degree of calling and certainty. My job hunting is half-hearted right now 'cause I'm not confident that I should step into a long-term job. I could pursue travel, perhaps some short-term work to fund such travel, perhaps finishing my album, but none of those can happen without dedication and effort, which I can't give them because I don't know if I should. So, I'm praying, and I just know that God will lead me step by step, even if I'm completely blindfolded and all I know is that there's ground under my foot at the moment.

OK, dude, this is all so WEIRD! Think about it! Here I am talking about life, thinking about all these scenarios in my head like they were little computer games or movies. It's my freaking life! It's not a game! It's not hypothetical! It's not something I can just try out or play with! Everybody out there is living their lives, and I'm sitting here like I'm writing a novel. It feels crazy and utterly unreal right now that God could (and pretty much has to) show me what to do, that I could actually go carry out one of these possibilities. I'm irritated that I'm taking this all so lightly. I feel like a kid who doesn't know what he has and thinks the million dollar china plate is a frisbee. But I'm stuck with what I've got, and, once again, I think there's a great well of power in tooth-and-nails prayer. So I'm going to ask God to show me what to do, in whatever timeframe He knows is best. I'm going to seek a job, a career, a calling, and a wife. And I'm going to knock knock knock on Heaven's door until I can taste and see that the Lord is good.

Right now it's all glossy pages of "Life" magazine.

--Clear Ambassador

P.S. Ladies, be glad you're women! Be glad there are men out there who will toil under the curse all of their days and die worn out, tired and frazzled for God and for you.

P.P.S. A cheery and inane story of something that made me very happy: I always love it when I find out that something I said was really funny. Apparently I made a comment during our first practice with Alex that was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard. We were talking about the tradeoffs of recording in my studio versus Mike's, which is analog (meaning sound is recorded directly onto magnetic tape, never chopped up and digitized and stuck into a computer). Mine is vastly easier to use, but Mike's analog rig gets 100% pro sound quality. So Steve said maybe we could record everything on my studio, mix it down, dump it to a halftrack tape reel, and "turn up the analog" on it. I rolled in my seat laughing, and tried to explain through gasping breaths why that was perhaps the most ignorant comment Steve had ever made. Eventually I reached for an analogy and said"it was like saying "Hey, I want to make this bill, so let's get it into a commitee and **turn up the legislative process**." :-)

Christmas 2006

Christmas 2006

How should I remember it?

Unfortunately, I didn't write about the holiday soon after it happened, so I've forgotten many specifics, like what I did on the 23rd or 27th. But I can give an overview now of what sticks in my mind before even general details dissolve in the tears of passing years (poetic, but dumb :-P).

Firstly, and most vastly importantly, everybody was here!. After a shredded yet not entirely unpleasant Christmas last year, Grandma Kari, Grandpa Ken, Uncle Keith, and Ken descended upon Mom, Dad, Daniel, Daisy and me. After thinking we had probably had the last normal Christmas ever, we had another :-) It really didn't matter much what else we did, just waking up in the morning and knowing everybody was around was enough.

I came into the holiday rocking and rolling from the categorically most intense academic period of my life. Two pillar classes on the line and a grade to rescue and excellence to demonstrate in process control. Half of my evenings were surrendered to the computer lab, as well as most of my days, and Sunday the 10th Charlie and I pulled an all-nighter, going from 3pm to 9am. After clawing through the process control final and finishing up the design report, I turned my thoughts to NOVA, which I had deserted for the past three weeks. I went to Akron Thursday for the Christmas dance show, and spent Tuesday through Thursday at NOVA. Monday I went with Mike, Justin, Hezz and Shannon (and Matt?) to pick up Daniel at Grove City. It was well worth $120 of pay to hang with them all and pick up Danmybro. We toodled around the campus, got lunch at Taco Bell (Except Hezz, who hit up the mysterious Subway [i.e. Sheetz] for her xenophobic meal), hit the thrift store (Can you say "turquose jacket with black-trimmed lapels?") and rocked tunes there and back.

On Tuesday I spent all day preparing my resume and coverletter for submission in regards to a full-time position in NOVA's technology department. There was a posting for an EPS Polymer Scientist/Engineer which my boss Tom had alerted me to. It's looking for a MS or PhD, but not much experience, so I have a shot. It would be a scarily-challenging yet amazing job - responsible for developing new EPS products and improving existing ones. Then I spent Wednesday and Thursday finishing up my various projects, particularly writing the work instruction for doing Painesville and Belpre's SARA 312 Tier II monthly and annual inventory reports. I left Thursday with one last day on the docket, January 2nd, before my nearly three-year tenure with NOVA (temporarily?) ended. I'm still waiting to hear if approval has been given for me to return part-time to do computer guru work with C++, Access and other lovely things (how ironic, eh?).

I got things a bit mixed up in my mind earlier, and before this week everybody had arrived on Friday. Ken got in from somewhere in New England after his trip to Spain (such an awesome-sounding trip!), Grandma and Grandpa (and Dally) drove in from Lansing, and Uncle Keith rolled in in his new motor home. Yes, our crazy Uncle has now bought himself a 30-foot Class A RV :-) He parked it in the dead-end street, and once he finished putting an antenna adapter in we watched some TV out there and Daniel and I spent the night in it's spacious luxury. SO cool! So yeah - those three days I was working, everybody was at home and the Christmas holiday was rolling along. Although my time spent at NOVA was not unpleasant, it was kind of a downer the couple times I let myself realize that I was missing everything at home. But so it goes. With a future career in the works, it was worth the sacrifice. And hah, how self-focused is this blog post! Oy. Other people in my family may read this and marvel at how callously I pass over things they did (if I mention them at all), which were central points of their time. But my ignorance limits what I can honestly write about, so I talk about myself and stay in this narrow perspective. Hopefully in 10 years I'll be much better at opening myself up to others' worlds (marraige will probably help that :-P).

The counter had Grandma's chocolate cookies, truffles, Hershey's Kisses, Fannie May candies, Mom's oatmeal cookes, pistachios, and other unremembered goodies occupying it's toaster-oven/napkin holder flank. The other end was, as always, full of in-use stuff. Less Daniel's and my pocket stuff, which was dutifully tucked away in our sanctioned Glad container in the pantry. I realized over the holiday that my copious affection for pop was not developed in a vaccuum--we drank through twelve-packs of Dr.Pepper and Diet Pepsi like pros, as well as Black Cherry Vanilla Coke (The taste of the shed, as Daniel called it) and IBC root beer and cream soda. While we're on snacks.. one point that came up in my mind a lot was my decreased appetite for such goodies. Pop was often a laboriously sweet blah, most cookies were unattractive... in short, I didn't eat nearly as much of these delights as I wished or would have in the past. I'm not sure if that came from dulling thoughtless overindulgence, or if it indicates a taming of the youthful passion of the past. In any case, it was mildly disconcerting, and I lost 3 pounds over the holidays.

I was home for Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Every year Mom gets Christmas Eve as HER time, in the midst of all the football and swirling activity. This year she planned a Norwegian Christmas (actually planned for last year, but... yeah, that didn't work out). We gathered for her program, which involved some Norwegian Christmas songs, some readings, some group gifts, annnnnd, Ken - the Yule Nissa! Heheh. Ken was appointed to be the Norwegian version of Santa Claus, and carried it out with his usual dissenting aplomb. He made it fun. The glug wasn't so good, but the ginger almond cookies kept on tasting better than I expected over break. Mom did a fine job bringing us another forced yet fun and memorable evening. Ahh, our family:-)

Lessee.. Daniel and I slept down in the basement since I had been banished from the family room couch after graduating. One year a good while ago we slept down there on cots and it sucked. Cold, bad sleep, and we had colds as well. This year, probably because we're hearty and sturdy young men by now, it was fine, even right on the floor with a cot pad and some blankets. I never moved in officially, so my clothes were a disaster, but whatev, right? (gag)

We spent most of Christmas day opening presents. Daniel and I slept in till 10:30 I think, and Ken, as the Yule Nissa, dispensed the gifts. We open then one-by-one, enjoying each one with its opener. We broke for lunch sometime after noon and then reconvened to finish with the sub-tree population. Uncle Keith got tons of stuff for the new RV, which Grandma named Samson (Sam is the name of the old pop-up UK has). Daniel got a "Pandora's Box," a compact bass/guitar effects unit. Ken got dough, I think. All the adults exchanged many gifts, which I think is cool, being as it is a sign of how intertwined their lives are, and what genuinely good friends they are. I got a pair of Shure ES300 earphones--as valuable as my iPod. They're so precise they sound lousy at first (no exaggerated bass), but I'm appreciating them more and more each time I listen to them. It's analogous to the clarity and rich detail you get with a thousand-dollar lens vs. the Canon snapshot digital cams we all use. Perfect clarity. AAHHHHHH :-) Oh sound - how wonderful you are!

The day after Christmas was primarily spent, for all of us but Grandma, Grandpa and the dogs, driving to a Laurel Highlands resort for UK's present of an off-road driving experience in a Hummer. Yes, UK's main gift was the experience of driving an H2 over some real off-road terrain. We drove out there in the van and everybody but Mom (oh Lord how she would have hated it!) rode along in the wide heavy Hummer. He went through a little training course under the direction of our guide, and then we drove over to an extensive set of trails running through the PA woods within the resort. UK drove for more than an hour through the mud, logs, rocks, puddles and hills, grinding through under the direction of our guide. It was interesting for me.. most of what we did didn't seem that extreme, but any normal car would have bottomed out or spun out in a second. It showed me dramatically how cushy all of our cars are. We are crazily dependent on our nice paved roads, folks. Even back in the extra seat far in the back, I could feel the commanding weight of the massive Hummer. It planted itself on the ground like somebody was holding it down, and ground over rocks and up hills like a giant was pushing us from behind. Pretty cool. I kept wishing we could ditch the guide guy and head off into the woods, no holds barred. Definitely what I would think :-P

Lessee... now I suffer the loss from not writing this out earlier. The rest of the days between Christmas and New Years are kind of a blur. I didn't have work, so I was around. We watched football and other sports games as the default activity, which unifies us in the family room/kitchen area, under the glow of the Christmas lighs and surrounded with copious laptops. Daniel and I worked away on 24 season two every night, getting wired and stressed-out right before bed :-P The good snacks eventually got eaten, and more 12-packs of Dr.Pepper had to be purchased. UK worked on the motor home a lot, I think Dad had a project or two (he usually does, being the great man that he is), Mom worked away in the home (what an insanely gracious and giving lady!), Daisy sought food like an automaton, and Dally got in the way of everybody better than a congressional committee. I had a couple nice long talks with Grandpa about chemical engineering and got to hear about what he did in his career, which was quite interesting.

Daniel and I had the new challenge of balancing family time with friend time, since we had a whole group of folks who were back for Christmas break and not normally around. I think that balancing act went well--I feel like we had a complete time with home folks, and I also feel well caught-up with "the senior crowd" as I call them, though they're actually freshman now. Funny how most of my friends are four years younger than me, discounting about 7 church friends. I guess I associate with those who are roughly as young as I feel and act :-)

For New Year's Eve I declined the several invitations I had and chilled with the fam, eating a nice dinner, watching football (of course) and playing Scatergories (oh, what a battle :-P). When it got close to the turn of the year I proposed the idea that we ring in the new year without a TV on (*gasp!*). Struck by a burst of creativity reminiscent of childhood, I grabbed Daniel and headed downstairs with about 15 minutes to put together our celebration. So we rang in 2007 with an atomic clock countdown from UK's laptop, a toilet paper roll dropping down a yardstick (the ball dropping. Get it?), shredded colored paper confetti, a crashing Zildjan 8-inch spash cymbal, and seltzer water, which refused to spray about like I wanted. Daniel and I chugged the seltzer water, the dogs barked and Daisy chased her tail, everbody laughed, and I was pretty happy. Over the course of the holiday I was affected by the reality of God's grace to me personally, demonstrated by these wonderful people around me who treat me far better than I remotely deserve. I struggle with believing God's existence sometimes without an undeniable personal experience of His reality, but I realized clearly and poignantly that these people around me ARE real, and there's no way in heaven or hell they could ever be as tirelessly kind and caring to me as they are without God's grace being what the Bible says it is. I may not have it all working right now, but they do, and they're right in front of me, as real as my calloused fingertips and lousy knees. So, that was nice. It was nice to have Grandma and Grandpa there, and words could never describe the enveloping warmth and happyness of having having all those special people around, here to stay for a good long time, hanging around and making every little thing funny and special.

OK, before I wrap it up with more touching sentimental, spiritual and intellectual invtroversion... the weather was FREAKY! Fifties and pleasant on average, with only a few days of clouds and rain. It was like Florida or something. Pleasant and appreciated, but occasionally recognized as the freak show that it was. In fact, I think it was New Year's day that Daniel and I went to TJ Highschool for a frisbee game with TJ and church folks--it was about 70 degrees, sunny, and just stop-drop-and-roll gorgeous. We PChOPers killed the TJ folks in ultimate frisbee, and then we lolled around and took pictures (I bet we looked wierd :-P) while the TJers and Nick played football (bleah!). It was lovely running about in shorts and T-shirts, and made for a pleasant and slightly odd Christmastime. I'm dreamin' of a bright Christmas? :-)

That's about it, I think. I left early Tuesday morning, the 2nd, for work, and that day Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Keith left. Ken hung around for a couple more weeks till he headed to Bolivia last Saturday, and of course Mom and Dad remained, forming the backbone of this amazing, sturdy life-backbone I call home. God knows where I'll be for next Christmas, who will still be alive, and who might be new to the family (a girl or two? Hmmmm :-) ). I'll probably have a full-time job locking me down, and goodness knows where Ken will be and how Grandma and Grandpa will be doing.

Looking back, I'm just grateful that God gave us this Christmas all together, like old times. Having tasting the possibility of loss, I (and we all, I think) savored every hour together, in the glow of peace, health and home. The world could fall apart, and I would feel complete with our family. Another year of wondrous prosperity and kindness, another time of walking around a bustling house lit by Christmas lights and alive with humor, another piece of ineffable peace and golden happiness. What unmerited goodness, that I should be included in this family, in this country, in this time, with this freedom, security and luxury. I tremble to think that it's true, in the global historic perspective, but I'm so grateful it has been so, and I'll carry the memories for the rest of my life. Hah - I sound pretty Christmas-sappy, but it's the way it is, call it what you like.

That's it folks! Yay, I've written this! Now to write about the Texas trip, in which I am currently living :-) Later gator.

--Clear Ambassador

A Look from the Helm

Here are two little snippets that give an idea of where I'm at in the grand scheme of life right now, and what kind of thoughs are pinging through my brain. The first is from a note Grandpa Ken wrote me for our celebration of my graduation. I include it because these sentences struck me like a bell, tolling the weight of the coming days and weeks (e.g. tomorrow).
----------------------------

. . .
Your future now stands before
you. Choose your path wisely.
Love,
Grandpa Ken

----------------------------
The second is my articulate response to the question, "What's the difference between a boy and a man?"
----------------------------

Boys are in training to bear responsibility. Men bear it.
Boys ride home in the car. Men drive the car, maintain it, and they bought it three years ago with five thousand dollars of their own money.
Boys do chores for a few minutes each day. Men do chores 8 hours a day.
Boys are blown around with every feeling and happening. Men have seen more of how the world works, and they ride the waves.
Boys have devotions because Mom and Dad say they should.
Young men have devotions becaue their spiritual lives depend on it.
Men have devotions because their wife and kids' spiritual lives depend on it.

Boys do what they want with their time. Men have no time

----------------------------
A time like this usually comes only once in a human's lifetime, if he's even fortunate enough to have a choice of his path. If I didn't believe in the God of the Bible, and if I didn't have my family to live Him out in front of me, I would be nervous and anxious beyond words. As it is, I know I can't fail, because He stands with me and His purposes will never fail. To say that's my only hope is to hang a bridge of truth upon a hair-thin cliche.

Temperate-lengthed post! Duuuuude.

--Clear Ambassador

The Chosen Five

There were five.

Five among dozens.

Five who braved ferocious storms and ceaseless battering.

Five who got screwed by their lousy online schedules.

Five who had to take design and control at the same time.

I was one of five, and barring the hyperbole of dramatacism, it was indeed a very difficult semester I was faced with this fall. I faced it with Charlie, Drew, Jewel, and Willis. Charlie and I go way back - back to the Team Bloat days with Jenna and Joam in Transport and Kinetics. Drew has been a co-op at NOVA with me for my last 3 rotations. Jewel I knew of, but didn't really know, and Willis.. Dave Willis.. well, with a name like that he couldn't help but be the man :-)

There were 15 other people in control, but only us five for design and health & safety. We spent many many hours down in B72, the basement ChemE computer lab, hashing out progress reports or putting together laborious H&S reports. When everybody else was down there worrying about the monstrous impossible process control homework, we were worrying about that plus tomorrow's progress report on exergy plus the 38-page health & safety draft due Friday.

The groups were formed as soon as we walked into the classroom at 8am Monday morning in late August. Willis, Drew and Jewel were over at a computer desk on the right side of the room, and Charlie was sitting at the left front desk. Thus team Willis coalesced, and Charlie and I joined forces yet again. I consider myself fortunate to have had him as my partner. He works extrememly diligently, and I don't have to worry about being cool around him. I suppose from the outside we're both ChemE nerd dorks who pool our dorkiness and are very uncool. But from the inside we're like brothers--don't have to worry about what you say or do, just work, joke, blow off steam, and get done what needs to get done. Exactly my style :-) Team Willis always finished their work before us, and we were usually late - for classes and assignments. I kinda feel bad for that, but it's how it happened, and our professors were gracious. And in the end I think we turned in better work, or at least as good.

So, with that backdrop, let me usher you down to B72 early on a crisp and frosty Monday morning. We hop up the 4-foot ledge at the truck loading docks underneath big grey Benedum and walk in the door to the loading foyer. Pull through the double doors, pass the drinking fountain and bathrooms on the right, face left, and punch in the code at the door of the lab. It's really not a lab, it's a computer classroom. Two-story-high ceiling with innocuous vents and pipes running around, 15-foot screen in front of the extra-long blackboard on the wall at our left. The instructor's desk, rounded by it's brushed metal ledge, is tucked back in that corner. On the right are the desks - 9-foot long semicircles with two computers in each and chairs scattered around them. Most of the chairs have formed a herd in the back of the room, over by the printers, unused and out of the way. The desk right at our right is me and Charlie's--he sits by the wall and I sit by the aisle. Team Willis sits at the second desk on the other side of the room. But they're not here now. Charlie and I sit at our desk, typing, leaning back and sighing, and leaning in again to the screens and keyboards. The strange thing is, it doesn't seem like a classroom at all. Books and backpacks are littered around like a dorm room, and the whole room flickers and glows in the warm light of Christmas lights and a crackling fire. Julie Andrews sings with spirit undimmed by her bleak listeners, and the media player visualization flickers warm flame on the giant projector screen. Colored lights circumnavigate the blackboard, and a string of white lights is taped around the instructor's desk. Even though it's 4am and the new day is starting, you can't help but feel pretty cozy tucked down there in the basement, carpet under your feet, open computers, a classroom at your command, a locked door if you want to close it, and a clearly-defined task steadily chipping away under your efforts. It doesn't feel at all as though you've been sitting at that desk since 3:30 Sunday afternoon, that the Steelers have played and won, night has come and gone, and workers are waking and starting their days. You know that there are five more hours until the report is due, and you will need all of them to get close to finishing it, but you don't think about it enough to realize it. You just keep scanning the marked-up progress report on Pipes and making changes to the document on the screen. Every once in a while you or Charlie kick back and make some comment about how ridiculous some of the comments are, or bust out some South Park quote, but by this time you're pretty much in a zone, and there's not much talk except for questions about the report.

Taking the liberty of the omnipotent narrator, we now sweep past those five hours, rush up the 13-story staircase, round the corner past Parker's office, and pull up in front of the Chemical Engineering main office. Charlie and I weakly greet Dr. Enick and Dr. Parker, whom I salute and call "masters," since they have ruled our lives for the past 4 months. We hand Dr. Enick the light blue 1.5-inch three-ring binder, exchange a few words, and turn towards the elevators. The sun is already well risen over the convoluted hospital buildings of Oakland outside the 12th floor window next to us. 18 hours ago I drove down to campus from a brief nap after church, and now I roll back down those roads, for one of the last times. I'm not tired, just zoned out. My nose started dripping around 6am, and my throat has gotten scratchy, and my rear end is sore from sitting for so long, but I'm plenty alert. It's a pretty strange feeling, but not unpleasant. I'm actually glad I got to do such a crazy thing at the end of my college career, and I'm amazed that it actually was that much work, for that long, and we did it.

Two days later, after the dreaded process control final kicked our butts from 11am to 2pm, Charlie and I finished the last edits to the 92-page Chemical Engineering Plant Design final report, printed out the remaining pages, and under the recording eye of my cell phone camera signed the cover letter and plopped it in the holder outside Dr. Enicks office, thus ending our undergraduate careers.

OK, I think I'm done with the story. There's more I want to say, and it's too clusmy to put it in that kind of clothing. Yes, 14 design progress reports culminated in a crazy all-nighter down in B72 putting them all together into the final report draft. We got an A in the class. Team Willis turned their final report in one hour before we did :-)

There's one other picture I want to take you to, actually. When I think of this semester, that comfortable and friendly image of B72 is the primary one that comes to mind. I also strongly think of parking my car around Oakland - waiting for spots to open up on Atwood, finding a meterless 4-hour spot on Bellefield, and that sweet sweet feeling of slipping into a spot where you know you're set for the day. I sorta think of sitting up in the 12-floor classroom listening to Parker's performance lectures. But one of the stirling memories is down in the darkened basement room of Fuel & Fuddle, a popular Oakland bar and pizza place. Twenty-some chemical engineer students sit around tables and on benches, faces fixed on the screen at one end, listening intently to people talk about hot wort, mash tuns, yeast collection patterns and heat exchangers. After a month of excruciating work on the Process Control project, we have all made it here--our presentations are in Dr. Parker's briefcase and we're presenting our work to the class. What I want you to see is the attention to the presenters; the quality of the graphs and discussions; and the questions. Dr. Parker only had to ask a few the whole time. After the end of every 10-minute presentation hands shot up all around the room and points were raised, discussed and usually answered. Fuel & Fuddle employees slipped through occasionally, and a few patrons passed by on their way to the restrooms, and I wonder what they thought. Uber-weird, probably :-) But I was proud of us. After getting beaten around by two exams with F-grade averages, merciless homeworks and brutal lectures, we had risen to this project and kicked it squarely in the heine. Non-linear simulation using grad-student-level matlab code? Barebones project information and difficult research? Gruelling controller tuning to achieve stability? Harsh time limit on the presentations? Cold steely questions from the super-intelligent Parker? We ate 'em all for breakfast :-)

Parker himself agreed with me the following day about the quality of the projects and participation. It was by far the best project he had ever seen in his 8 (I think) years of teaching this class. And my team's paper was by far the best of the bunch. Those words settled a tremendous weight of failure, uncertainty and hope inside of me. I had worked myself to the bone the night before pulling our paper together and tightening up the analysis. We had killed ourselves Thanksgiving week to get the filter and pasteurizer models working, and now we had a bunch of closed-loop controller responses to interpret and discuss. We threw all kinds of disturbances at our system once we had it designed and simulated, to see if it could handle it. Our beer pasteurizer came out with flying colors, and I covered every single base with our assumptions, decisions, and reasons. At every point I unconsciously asked myself "What would Parker ask here?", and then proceeded to answer it. The paper was 38 pages, but it was perfect, and to have Parker realize and acknowledge that meant more to me than every A+ I earned in college (and I earned 15).

That project was the best-whipped-into-shape that I have been since Critical Writing last fall and Organic Chemistry the summer before that. And those three are the academic pinnacles of my college career. A close fourth is Thermo 2, where I lived in Chapter 11 of the book and plunged my brain again and again into fugacity and gibbs free energy and all the hateful abstract concepts of thermodynamics until I actually understood them and got an A+ in the course. Those were the four times I had something really hard to do and I squared it up, took it on, and came out successful. I came to realize at the end of this semester that that is one of the best things you can do in life, even though it's always hard, discouraging and hateful at some point along the way. Now that I'm graduated, I miss that kind of clear-cut challenge within the relatively safe confines of academia. I miss the prospect of hanging out with the students whom I've finally gotten to know and who've gotten to know me. I wish for more of the heedless expenditure of time on things that have no choice but to be done, yet are pretty much independent and fun as you do them. Real life seems a good bit harsher and less interesting, but I suppose it will turn out to be just as rewarding once I get into it.

So yeah - down there in Fuel & Fuddle, our class glowed with professionalism, quality and solid scientific behavior. It makes me very happy to think of us down there. After all the misery and failure in process control, we proved our capabilities there, and Parker saw it and acknowledged it gladly. I talked to Dr. Parker the next week about the course and some of the comments I had developed over the months. We ended up talking for almost 2 hours, and I got to share, completely, coherently and demonstratively, exactly the things that had bothered me about him and how he ran the course, and together we considered them and how they could be addressed. At the end he thanked me heartily and said he'd never been given such well-thought out and considerate feedback, removed from emotions and didactic in nature. That was likewise very rewarding, because the unsettledness of being in what appeared to be a mismanaged class was relieved, and I came out really believing that Parker is a solid guy.

Baugh, this post has become an untidy and obese growth of text. It doesn't even talk about final's week (and the harder week before that) chronologically. But, I think it carries most of the spirit of this last month and semester of classes, and that's what I really want to remember. I think of B72 affectionately, and I have great memories of working with Charlie and my other groups, and the fun times down in the lab with everbody focused on a common assignment. It has been probably the best sememster of college in that respect, even as it has been the most miserable at times and the most difficult by far. I'm glad to have ended out my academic life on a genuine note--a hard challenge well met. We'll see what the coming weeks hold, and I'll write later about this whole 5-day trip to Akron that I just got back from :-)

If anybody has read this far, I'm amazed at you and you deserve a smoothie. This post has taken full liberties of the "for future John" purpose of this blog. It's been a great time of life these past months, and perhaps I'll come up with a more succinct and vibrant way of describing it some other time.

--Clear Ambassador

**Six Stars**

[My apologies to anybody who got excited about a new blog post and sees that it's the same as my post on Facebook. Different pools of possible readers. The end is different, though!]

Six Stars

That's the title of a playlist in my iTunes, and I just listened through it all tonight. It's the handful of songs that, over time, have affected me every time I listen to them. They're the ones I hear and think, "Man, I wish I could give this more than 5 stars to mark down just how GOOD it is!"

Listening through these songs has been a transcendant experience. Starting with John Williams' "Hologram/Binary Sunset" and the french horn that makes me want to cry because I can never really be in the Star Wars world, I traveled through 20 songs, each of which left me silent with wonder. Some of which left my heart so tugged that I didn't know what to do but savor the bittersweetness.

As I sat there with my eyes closed, the comfortable couch and the warm room and house around me seemed oddly small. I thought of thanking Mom and Dad for providing this incredibly peaceful and pleasant building for me to live in here on this earth, compared to so much harshness and misery elsewhere. Occasionally the thought of God's infinity and my existence in heaven shot through me, and I finally made peace with my heart by figuring and accepting that in heaven all these heart pangs would be met, whether its the equivalent of standing on Tatooine watching the twin suns set, or just finding a "bottom" for the feelings stirred up by hearing songs from years ago, from times that will never be again.

I found indescribable peace, while listening through these songs, from knowing that I had created a song on that list. For whatever reason, I just can't stand hearing outstanding music and knowing that I can't make such stuff myself. Most of the time that's the case, and I'm left chafing, but tonight I knew that "What a Night" deserved to be on that list. And even as I marvelled at the perfect intricacies of David Altrogge's "Coming Home (1945: The GI's Song)" and wondered how much of Switchfoot's stunning beauty in "Might Have Ben Hur" was planned, I knew that a song like that had come from me.
I myself had written a song from the most inexplainable and deeply-rooted threads of my being, and it had come together in a recording that is better than I could ever have planned, and better than I could probably make again.

This is the unstable source of my peace, for it is not necessarily skill that gets you a "six star" song. We are subject to the cold winds of chance. A mistake on the first take, a deleted track, and transcendence can be lost. I feel good that the pieces came together for this song, and by the same token I chafe, because I cannot force more greatness to happen. It just has to come out when I least expect it.. when it's not on my mind.. . . when it doesn't come from me.

Such is the curse and the joy of a musician.


This all being said, do you have a "six star" song you'd like to share? I love telling other people about these songs that mean so much to me and having them appreciate them, so by the same token I'd love to hear what songs leave you "sitting back in wonder."

And if anyone is interested, here's What a Night.
In a way, it's the best thing I have to offer the world at the moment.

And here in my blog I'll write out what I decided to forgo in the Facebook note: The "introversion disclaimer." It states, basically, that I realize this has been an effectively Godless rumination--that these words make things seem grander or more important than they are from a higher perspective. It defends against correction readers might bring to the "cold winds of fate" statement, which is how it feels, not how it is with a sovereign God. Is says that I realize I was emotional as I wrote it.

I left it out because I get tired of qualifying every sensitive statement I make and feeling like I have to prove to anyone who might criticize me that I "see around my work." I left it out 'cause I get sick of the "curse of the analytical" sometimes--the neverending circumspection and self analysis that must bring everything down to cold, intentional purpose and correctness. But here in this journal, I'll leave the comfy couch of the bulk of this post and point myself, and anyone reading, to another of my songs here at the end. Once you've shared my joys and sorrows (if you actually did), finish up by listening to "You Ain't That Big of a Deal." It's the truth, like it or not :-|

Tuesday and wednesday

No time. It's 3am. Dangit! I want to write. Ugh.

Monday

I don't have time to do this, but this is the last week of this Pitt season of my life, and I don't want to forget it like I've forgotten the last week, nay month, of my home school season.

So... TODAY:

"Class" with Dr. Enick at Starbucks at 9. His treat, and we just conversed.

Process, high on caffeine and understanding discrete step response modeling.

Heath & Safety / Ethics - last class. Watched the 60 Minutes bit on the BP Texas City refinery explosion, did the evaluation.

Drove home 'cause I didn't have my lab report sections on the USB stick or emailed. Mom was leaving to take Daisy for her checkup as I arrived. Veggie soup.

Back to Pitt, waited and waited for a spot on Atwood, ended up down by Bellfield, but set for the rest of the day. COLD walk. 20's.

7 hours of Process Control homework. 5 continuous hours spent in one chair, getting up exactly 4 times to get my printed stuff 10 feet away. Brain so active I didn't eat, drink, or even listen to music part of the time. Writing code. Busting head. Got it working.

Nice break down in B72 sharing Phae's pomegranite and putting up Christmas lights.

Final 3 hours of process control, doing the Simplex algorithm for linear optimization with multiple constraints. Got my answers to agree with Matlab, hallelujah!

Fuel and Fuddle. 2 Jameson's and a flying buffalo provided some nice relaxation and needed nutrition. Read "God Is The Gospel," talked to Willis and Janie while they waited for a table. Christmas lights were the best idea I've had in the last 4 years.

Jenna gave me a snowflake with designs like hearts and biker club symbols. I played with the order of songs for my album.

Cold walk to car.

Listened to my own stuff on the way home.

Came up with and recorded a 1 minute acoustic song. Indirect fruit of listening to Vince Guaraldi 5 times today.

Titled it "Fuddle."

Here it is. To be listened to whilst looking at black and white photographs.

Good night.

Pitt is good, but somehow I have no thought of missing it when I'm done. I have no feelings about my graduation at all, strangely enough. Right now I'm just starting to feel Christmassy, and that's sublime.

--Clear Ambassador

AIM with Danmybro

[Sorry 'bout the double spaces. Too hard to get rid of.]

[I started by making a comment on his away message, to the effect that he was now the big man on campus since he was working out and consequently huge.]

odiousbane: noo, not me

odiousbane: it was a contest

slickitized: I pretty much figured so :-)

---

Auto response from odiousbane: Big Man on
Campus. Oh yeah.

---

odiousbane: yyyeah

odiousbane: this sweet guy one

odiousbane: Darrius Pugh

slickitized: wawawiwa!

odiousbane: he's awesome

odiousbane: he was in the Maryland Boys' Choir

odiousbane: and he was the best kid in it

slickitized: niice

odiousbane: wow, UK's rig is sweeeeet

slickitized: heheh

slickitized: fo' real man

odiousbane: wow

odiousbane: he's bringing it to our house

odiousbane: that's awesome

slickitized: yeah dude

odiousbane: we should take an overnight when he's
here, or something

slickitized: satellite TV!

slickitized: Mom was thinking that too

odiousbane: wow

slickitized: birding up in Erie or something

slickitized: I think you and I should sleep out there

odiousbane: yeah!

odiousbane: duuude

odiousbane: I hope he would let us

odiousbane: he may want to

slickitized: yeah, I'm not sure

odiousbane: pretty awesome

odiousbane: I wonder how many it can sleep

odiousbane: man, people aren't going to believe it :-)

slickitized: heheh

odiousbane: our crazy uncle has done it again

slickitized: foshizzle

odiousbane: what's up at home?

slickitized: well, M&D are looking at how to reorganize
the basement and put a futon in

slickitized: Daisy is mushed up against my laptop

odiousbane: ooh, nice

slickitized: Jonathan is disappeared upstairs

odiousbane: and you?

slickitized: and the music of Ecuador is farting away in
my ears

odiousbane: mmmmm

odiousbane: the stuff from Ken?

slickitized: yep

slickitized: this one song is hilarious

odiousbane: farty?

slickitized: yep

odiousbane: awesome

slickitized: gratuitious tuba and bass drum/cymbal action
:-)

odiousbane: ooh man

slickitized: it makes me laugh

odiousbane: does it make you feel like un gordo
ecuatoriano?

slickitized: Kinda like that german dude in the
"Magnificent Men and their Flying Machines" movie

odiousbane: haha

slickitized: si si

odiousbane: good movie

odiousbane: we should watch that over break too

slickitized: if we can find it, yeah

odiousbane: it's out there

odiousbane: somewhere out there....

odiousbane: haha

odiousbane: is page 6

slickitized: heheh

slickitized: YES!

slickitized: COOORTIS

odiousbane: what a turd

slickitized: developin'

slickitized: seventeh

slickitized: horsepower

odiousbane: good stuff

slickitized: quality film

slickitized: how's your Friday night progressing?

odiousbane: not bad

odiousbane: I went to lunch with Chris and Sean

odiousbane: dinner

odiousbane: and then I went to the Big Man on Campus
contest

odiousbane: it was really crazy

odiousbane: some of the things the guys did were
unbelievable

odiousbane: like hard to believe they actually did that at
GCC

odiousbane: it was really horrendous at a few points

slickitized: what kind of stuff?

odiousbane: one guy was dancing for a girl a chair

odiousbane: taking his shirt off and wiggling around

odiousbane: another guy....

odiousbane: who was rather portly

odiousbane: wore a hula outfit for the beachwear
segment

odiousbane: and he was hula dancing....

odiousbane: *shudder*

odiousbane: the same guy was making jokes about
people who stutter and foreigners

odiousbane: it was pretty awesome :-)

odiousbane: one guy had the worst talent ever

slickitized: heheh

odiousbane: he was singing along with "Girls" by the
Beastie Boys

odiousbane: you should listen to that song

slickitized: heheh

odiousbane: the thing is....

odiousbane: it wasn't even karaoke

odiousbane: all the vocals were in there

slickitized: heh

odiousbane: he only "sang" about half of it

slickitized: pshht

---

Auto response from odiousbane: Big Man on
Campus. Oh yeah.

---

odiousbane: like, the whole song but only half of it

odiousbane: it was really really bad

odiousbane: he got eliminated

slickitized: sweet

odiousbane: so, that's what I did tonight

slickitized: POWER OF THE PEOPLE!

slickitized: well, I had dinner at Wendy's with Mom and
Dad

odiousbane: nice!

slickitized: picked up my car from Hueys

odiousbane: what was it doing there?

slickitized: gave them $1200 of my money

odiousbane: oh snap

slickitized: getting inspection and new front struts

slickitized: and ordering 3 new wheels

odiousbane: dang

odiousbane: was that required?

slickitized: for the wellbeing of the car, yes

slickitized: I coulda got black wheels with chrome rings

slickitized: but that sounded cheesy

odiousbane: cool

slickitized: Dude, I'm gonna have NO money left

slickitized: February, another $1000 insurance
payment..

odiousbane: eek

slickitized: that's why I tell people to not get cars!

odiousbane: will you be solvent?

slickitized: not as I stand now, no

slickitized: I've gotta work my donkey off at NOVA as
soon as school is over

slickitized: till then, it's schoolwork like a hound of hell

odiousbane: oh boy :-)

slickitized: yep

slickitized: basically, I literally have 2x more than I have
comfortable time to do

slickitized: so, we'll see how it goes

odiousbane: when do finals start?

slickitized: Symphony is on Thursday, then Process the
following Wednesday, to close out my season of formal
education

odiousbane: wow

odiousbane: that's close!

odiousbane: good job

slickitized: it feels like it's 2 months away :-P

odiousbane: you can make it

slickitized: yep

slickitized: it's funny - times like this, the only way some
days arrive is because time doesn't stop. Otherwise I'd
never be ready for 'em

slickitized: iykwim

odiousbane: I guess so...

odiousbane: school has never been like that for me

odiousbane: not yet

slickitized: it seems to only be like that for very brief
periods

slickitized: a week here or there

slickitized: thankfully

odiousbane: alright

odiousbane: well, I'm going to go over to the Sac....

odiousbane: get a latte

odiousbane: watch It's a Wonderful Life

odiousbane: sound like a plan?

slickitized: sounds like I wish I was there :-)

odiousbane: same here bro

slickitized: dude, we've gotta find that alternate ending
on YouTube somewhere

slickitized: "Let's go get Mr. Pwotter!"

slickitized: YEAH!!!

slickitized: *whack whack*

slickitized: :-D

odiousbane: haha

odiousbane: what was that from?

odiousbane: SNL?

slickitized: Ken showed it to us

slickitized: I think so

odiousbane: wow, that was a long time ago

odiousbane: good stuff

slickitized: fo real

odiousbane: well I will see you later

odiousbane: college night baby

slickitized: yeah man

slickitized: peace

odiousbane: School of Rock is on

slickitized: oh hey - mind if I put this convo up on my
blog?

slickitized: niice

odiousbane: ...why?

slickitized: as a lazy yet rather effective way of
representing what's going on

slickitized: I just don't have time to write about all thIS
S"Tu;ff

odiousbane: alrighty

slickitized: (That was Daisy there)

odiousbane: haha

odiousbane: tell her to get some sleep

slickitized: she says she'll try

odiousbane: good deal

odiousbane: well, have a great night!

slickitized: U2

odiousbane: and pray that I get well, if you want :-)

slickitized: haha! I'm the first person to ever think of
that!!

slickitized: oooh yeah

slickitized: You're still sick? geez

slickitized: that's a downer

odiousbane: yeah...

slickitized: I'll prae

odiousbane: thanks

odiousbane: I thought I was better on Wednesday

odiousbane: since we had volleyball and soccer games

odiousbane: but then I felt like crud again

odiousbane: ah well

slickitized: rest up tonight

slickitized: think of Daisy

odiousbane: aighty

slickitized: peace

---

Auto response from odiousbane: Big Man on
Campus. Oh yeah.

---

odiousbane: stay warm