Me (about a sweet pic Mike took): It's a masterpiece, Mike!

Mike: And masterpieces are only created by masters.

Me: . . . or pieces.

:-D

Recording

Well folks, it's May 5th. That was a rude awakening. I thought it was the 2nd, or maybe the 3rd, till I checked my phone at lunch. Uncle Keith gets here in three days, bringing with him unknown amounts of non-music activity, and we leave on the 12th, early early. So the 11th will be all packing up. So I have 6 days left. That hurts just to say.

The last week has slipped by quickly with Mike here. It's easy to spend time on the laptop or watching hockey. The deadline to finish the album recording has been increasingly pressuring me, and a lot of days have gone by with not much time spent in the studio.

But here's the thing. I have 9 out of 12 songs for sure done, and two of the remaining three probably done, but with a chance of re-recording them.

The recording is going fantastically!

I've been knocking out two songs a day most days. Walk downstairs, set up a new project in Sonar 2.0, check levels, and 30 minutes later, a new final-quality track is down on the hard drive.
In case it's not obvious, let me say that this doesn't happen normally when I record. That's a big reason I don't spend more time in the studio at home. More often than not my efforts end in frustration and futility, or something that's 80% good, but too hard to get that last 20%, so it's useless.
A lot of the reason for this progress is the type of music I'm working with. These songs are meant to be sung. They live just coming out of your mouth. "Arrangements" are self sustaining even with just a guitar for accompaniment. If I botch a take it's no biggie to re-do the whole thing, or pick up part way through where I messed up. It is truly a delight to work with such excellent songs.

But there's more than that.
I still undoubtedly have the capacity within myself to ruin the recording of even such robust and intrinsically valuable songs. God has to be blessing my efforts. I am playing (i.e. "practicing") the songs, yes, but I get good at playing them faster than my rate of practice. Things are falling into place, and when I'm sitting in front of the mic, with the ominous red "Record" button pressed and destiny hanging in the balance... I'm playing and singing at my best.

God is--at the least--staying the tide of my own self destruction, and allowing me to record these songs in a manner doing justice to my musical abilities and the quality of the songs. I don't take that for granted, and every time I run up the stairs singing at the top of my lungs with another track crossed off the list, I am grateful afresh.

I am really looking forward to sharing these recordings with everybody, and I hope that they can be received and learned and sung with as much joy as I have gotten from them myself.

--JPB

Yo, wassup

It's 10:07pm SLC time. Mike and I finished "Blazing Saddles," and now we're in our default positions: hunched over each's respective laptop at the non-dining-room-table-table. The automatic lights came on and dimmed at 8, so we have yellow light till 11pm. It's shining on the pile of field guides, Utah atlas, electronics, beverage containers, Cheetos, tumbleweed, sandstone, masking tape, song lyrics and other shtuff that covers the table. We're groovin' to The Meters. If you don't own "Look-Ka Py Py" by them, you should buy it. I feel comfortable promising that whoever you are, you will not regret that purchase.

Another day like every other day of my life: started with a goal, got diluted immediately. Instead of waking up and hitting the studio, I woke up, had breakfast, and Mike and I went on some errands. Finally after getting home and making buffalo chicken salad and macaroni & cheese for lunch, I took the tepid-but-still-delicious remains of my Rovico's americano down to the two by four and insulation room for some folk song work. Laid down what will most likely be the final tracks of "Good Morning Blues," and got "Pick a Bale of Cotton" started. One take with guitar and singing, and then lots with additional singing and clapping. My plan is to do like 10 tracks of harmonies and different parts, all with clapping, and get a good group work feel. Right now I'm pursuing that direction, but I don't know if it will work. All I know is I did a few test tracks, and then 3 serious ones, and after that my hands hurt from clapping so I left.

Helped Mike work on fixing Uncle Keith's tent from its wind-induced destruction. Ate a mango with a knife, rejoiced in the fact that there was nothing "instant" to eat in the fridge or the pantry, and fried up some corned beef hash and eggs for dinner. XX'd it and watched the Mighty Ducks and Redwings battle on the ice. Then to Blazing Saddles, and you know it from there.

I am currently wishing that Mike could appreciate food, that people on Facebook would appreciate my profile pic, that the world could appreciate my unique(?) brand of optimistic adaptability, and that I had the "spark," or charisma, like some people have.

Currently delighted by my vanilla bean in vodka success, the ease with which I am getting final-track-quality recordings for this album, the amount of vegetables and real food in my shopping cart earlier today, and the understanding of music history that is in truth unfolding as I read "Rock and Roll: An Introduction," by Michael Campbell and James Brody.

I take yet another moment to sit back, look around me at the railings and airy ceiling and shimmering sea of lights out the window, and appreciate where I am. This is amazing, and what a blessing to get to be here, for so long, so free. This is one of the best places on earth, and I love it.

John: Is today Saturday?
Mike: I don't think so.. I don't know
John (opens cell phone): It's May first...
John (brings up calendar on laptop): It's Friday. Hmph.

A Few Notes

• Turns out when bereft of rock, I can indeed thoroughly enjoy other kinds of music. UK's Apple has great speakers with a unique jack, so I'm limited to his iTunes selection (a mere 4026 songs :-P). Without my usual fare, I have turned to Bach, Brahms, The Doobie Brothers (who I officially love now), and big band.
• Food is a war. It does not want to be in an eatable form. I must threaten it with fire and sharp objects to get it into a meal. I enjoy cooking; but alone, when no cooking = no real meal, it feels strangely antagonistic.
• The dryness out here is nice in some odd ways. If any dish or implement is wet, just set it out, and it'll be bone dry shortly. Socks not quite finished from the dryer? Just set it out and you're good. Wash your hands? Don't need a towel! Just wave 'em around a bit and the water's gone. Your hands actually get cold it evaporates so fast.
• I don't mind being alone like this. I just have to be careful what music I listen to. Don't want to wake up emotions that would have no solace in my solitude.
• I missed the last TWO Penguins games!! One of them I didn't even know was being played - thought they weren't playing till Saturday. Then Saturday I looked forward to the game all day, so excited for it.. and got a text around 5pm with the results. What?? It had been an afternoon game! I had missed it all. Great sadness.
• After mistakenly turning into the parking lot of a Mormon church this morning I was all the happier to arrive at Gateway Community Church and there to worship the true God. I haven't gotten much into worship lately, but today I was glad to raise my arms, if only to emphasize the point that this God is the one I'm going after, or waiting on, or whatever. I don't want to be worshiping anything else.
• Oh for sunshine! I have spent the last two days inside but for some shopping, and I'm ready to GO. I want to see sun-baked desert again! Yellow light, warmness on my skin, unobstructed view. Go away clouds! Meh.

I'm glad I'm here.

To Utah!

To complete my picture updating, here are some cell phone pics from my drive to Utah the next day. I took almost a hundred, overcome again and again by the beauty and grandeur of each new sight.

Started out heading into the Rocky Mountains from Denver. The poor Mazda, loaded down with hundreds of pounds of recording equipment, struggled to make it in the thin air.




Finally - mountains! Snow, peaks, forests of pine trees, clear blue sky... it's been a long time.





After making it over the pass it was down down down, into Glenwood Canyon. An awesome spectacle and a marvel of engineering.






Grand stuff. Hard to capture in pictures.








With the last vestiges of the mountains behind, it was INTO THE DESERT!
A barren stretch man would have shuddered to transverse a century ago.






Welcome to Utah!







Home at last!

The Drive to Denver

Mike was a dork and took unflattering pictures of me. Which are pretty funny.










These are some big tires!













Yep.
Yessir.
Yes indeed.



This was at 75mph.
Pretty, uh.. interesting.
Not easy.














Sure there are easier ways to get a tan, but why bother?

















SKY!!!











This is one of about 50 sunset pictures I took, trying to capture the amazingness of the sight. This does it faint justice, but you get an idea, at least.

Desert Mountain

Today I set my sights on the desert southwest of Salt Lake City. Going out sufficiently far on paved and semi-paved roads would get me away from people and in the middle of BLM land. I plotted my course on the trusty atlas and headed out at noon--warm clothes, lots of water, extra food, and a tank-up of gas and Dr.Pepper on the way out.

Thanks to Mikey Q I discovered that my cell phone can email pictures to my yahoo account, so I am delighted to offer photos--albeit tiny-sized--to do a much better job than my words.

Off down Utah 86, which took me all the way down Utah Lake, through annoying construction, and then down like a ruler line, south to meet route 6.




Naturally I took this opportunity to go fast. Broke 95, but didn't feel like trying to get 120 like I did once on the way to Akron. Nothing like an overheated tire blowing to ruin your day.



Once off the highway proper, it was about 10 miles of paved road, and 17.5 of unpaved, like this. Not too bad. Managed 20 - 35mph without any problems.




Here looms my destination. A small range of mountains stuck in the middle of a vast plain. It looked rocky but do-able, and decent roads let right up to it.




This was the start of the climb, and pretty well represents most of it. All the rock was sandstone, which afforded lots of variation, meaning handholds and footholds.



Lots and lots of climbing stuff like this. Got my hands pretty well scraped up, and got pretty tired out too. And when I finally scrambled up the peak... each one merely revealed a higher one behind it! This happened about 3 times.






Yes I climbed up here, and yes I went under that rock. Saw some amazing grottos as well, and some fantastic rocks, the soft sandstone worn in unearthly ways.







At last I did reach the top, and was greeted with an incredible view. I could turn in a complete circle and see nothing higher than myself for at least 15 miles, if not much much further.




There were more clouds than clear in the sky, and the wind absolutely RIPPED. Ceaseless, relentlessly, roaring in my ears and making it not a simple task to stand up straight. I can appreciate people who dislike the wind now. The few moments it ceased were sweet sweet peace.

One last view from the top. Which happens to include the road I came on. And shows just one sliver of the panorama that encircled me.






On the way down I saw some more remarkable formations, had a few hairy descents, got strung out on adrenaline from them, and from hunger, and by the end trotted down the rocks, quite comfortable negotiating them.



I couldn't believe it. Perfectly hand-sized. Why weren't there more of these?!?






Now you see it...







Now you don't!







Coincidences are ridiculous. How is it that after all that highway, and clattering down dirt roads, and pulling over at whim when I felt close enough to the mountain, the odometer would end up exactly here? I glanced at the odometer as I was getting ready to leave, and couldn't believe it.

So that was my trip! The last picture I leave you is of tumbleweeds. It's hard to describe what they were like down all those unpaved roads. They seem for all the world like animals. They scurry along almost randomly, but in a definite direction. The oblong ones skip across the ground like little kids. You see them piled relentlessly in any hollow and against any obstruction. They line the cattle fences like caged animals wanting to get out, and in the corners where enough pile up, I watched lucky ones skip over their fellows and come flying over. Fascinating to watch, and I never could bring myself to run over one on the road.

Farewell tumbleweeds! May you live to roll another day.







This day has been fantastic. Ham & eggs fill my belly, celery and broccoli I'm sure have added years to my life, and I think I'll be ready for bed directly. Burned a lot of calories today.

The first 2 days

It is now... I don't know which day of the week. The computer tells me it's 4/23, and thinks I'm posting this at 12:09, when it's actually 10:09 mountain time. I do believe it's Thursday. Which makes sense because Friday it's supposed to rain, which is why I toured about yesterday and am planning to today. But first, back to Tuesday...

I got to UK's house full of wonderment and delight and disbelief, as described previously. Trying to figure out how to turn the Pen's game on proved too difficult through the sea of remotes, so I called Uncle Keith and he got me going. A can of soup for dinner from the near-bare pantry, and glorious victory on the ice. Pens lead the series 3-1! Next the car had to be unloaded (considerably easier than loading it), and empty I took it to the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, to return home full of groceries.

I'll spare you the details, and say only that I was quite pleased with my shopping trip. It was a triumph of thrift and health. I unloaded my $89.60 load and set up the kitchen with glee, armed for every food need for a week. I finished the night writing my blog, and retired to the couch in the living room, leveling out the shades so the twinkling sea of lights could join me in my repose.

I spent the first half of Wednesday out shopping. I had located several thrift stores on google maps, and headed north up State St, scanning every storefront I passed to learn what was available to me here. I pulled into a pawn shop on the way, and came back out with a guitar! A perfect, cheap-but-good Harmony sunburst acoustic with that open, un-slick sound that I need for this album. Then to other pawn shops where I salivated over the plethora of subs, and to a giant thrift store where I got a white button-up shirt for hiking. My last stops were Wal-Mart for a hat and sunscreen, B&D's Burgers for a delicious avocado burger, and Best Buy to look over their Digital SLR's and decide I didn't want to buy one new.

Thus was spent the first half of a perfect, warm, sunny day in paradise. With the forecast of rain looming, I didn't want to spend the rest of the day inside. So into my old Guardian bag went Dr.Pepper, a sandwich, two bottles of water, the Utah atlas, rough cuts and an apple. 2 gallons of water in the car, more than 3/4ths a tank of gas, hiking boots, cowboy hat, and off I went. I set out to explore the Oquirrh Mountains, which I have gazed at across the SLC valley, but never been to. I transversed the flat, wide valley, and met with little success in the canyons on the other side, which are all closed till the summer melts enough snow up in the mountains. Then was the first of many visits to the Atlas, by which I chose a route that went north along the mountains and wrapped around them to the West, along the shore of the Great Salt Lake, across salt flats, and then down south through the valley on the other side of the mountains, till I could wrap around them and come back home.

I munched buffalo jerky from a roadside peddler and cruised, till the full wonder of the great lake became apparent. Turns out the Great Salt Lake is really, really, colossaly huge. If the desert seems to stretch out in the valleys flat and vast, how much more does the mirror-flat plane of the lake soar to the horizon, broken only by islands (mountains, actually) jutting from its surface. I the highway passer got passed incessantly as I tried to keep my speed up on I-80 while still marvelling at the lake, and the salt flats extending from its shores. At one point the two directions of the highway were nothing but two piles of dirt, carrying the roads atop them and venturing out with nothing but water on either side.

After miles of such driving, deserted except for a couple evaporator plants, I got to the interchange with 138, which would take me south down the new valley. But on the right side, jutting up massive and mysterious and as enticing as any pirate cove, lay Stansbury Island - a mountain rising up from the lake, with enough solid land between the salt flats to carry a road out to it. The map showed most of the island was BLM land, which is Bureau of Land Management, which means you can freely camp and hike there. I turned right and headed out, but soon a few realities set in: (A) It was 5:30pm, and the only cars I saw were ones leaving the island. (B) Turns out even though you can see a mountain right in front of you, it can still be six miles away, and (C) the road was unpaved, and I could only do 20 at best, laboring over the washboard surface and bemoaning my already-dying front struts and skinny sport tires. So I stopped, beaten by the reality of nature, hiked along the shore for awhile, and headed back, champing on a rough cut like Clint Eastwood and opening all 4 windows of the car so the roaring onslaught of wind could blow through.

I'll write just one more part of my day. As I worked my way along state routes down through the Tooele valley, on the other side of the Oquirrhs from SLC, I came to the twon of Tooele and took a road that headed up into the foothills. Most of the time you see little hills and dream about climbing them and how cool that would be, and keep driving. But these had ATV trails running up them, so I knew they were accessible, and a sign at a pull-in forbade only vehicular trespassing. So I put on my boots and started walking, reduced to gasping pants almost immediately by the steep grade and thin air. At last, picking my way among the rocks and stubbly brush, I neared the top of a large hill overlooking the whole valley. It was like a movie scene - the last few steps unfolded the valley below in breathtaking grandeur. Angled sunlight swept across the fertile green plains, growing misty in the distance before the mountains rose up to meet the setting sun. Tooele laid peacefully below me, neat streets and clean houses in orderly array, ready for the coming of night. The grassy foothills on which I stood looked like green felt, and to my right a reservoir lay tucked in the canyon like a jewel. My gaze stretched far across the valley, and when it got to the north, stretched out to infinity as the great salt lake swallowed up the horizon, lying like a majestic lion at the head of the valley, watching over the scene from its stately immensity. I fought mosquitos and talked to Uncle Keith for awhile, till the sun dropped below the last bar of clouds and headed for the mountain peaks. Every minute the view got better and I wished I could take new pictures. The light, sharper and sharper, lifted off the plains and cut the foothills out in dramatic contrast. At last the sun slipped below the peaks, and the chilling wind from the mountains behind me hastened me back to the car. I enjoyed the lights show in the sky from behind the mountains as I continued south. Civilization petered out rapidly, and left me alone on the strip of highway, marveling afresh at the desolate Rush Valley, great gaping vastness to my left and right, dark and peaceful beneath the still-light sky.

Such were my adventures yesterday, and maybe my poetic language sounds cheesy, but it's my best attempt at capturing what I saw and how it affected me. My only sadness was that there was no one to share it with. How I would like for Pittsburgh and Ohio friends to see these things with me! I believe these great, dramatic sights make God's glory easier to imagine and anticipate, and human self-absorption harder to sink into.

Now it is nearing noon, high time to head out on today's adventures. I'm going south west, to the BLM desert and the old pony express trail. Blanket, food, extra clothes, lots of water, tank up on gas, guitar... yep, I'm ready!

First a backtrack, then an installment

Backtrack:
I lost my job. Yep. Wednesday April 8th Guardian let me go. You can ask me about it privately - I've got no problem talking about it, because it seems to clearly be God's hand at work. Indeed, on the way home my primary thought was to stifle feelings of excessive joy and excitement. A world of opportunity was suddenly flung open to me! I have not looked back, and within a day I started talking with Mike Q about a road trip to Uncle Keith's house in Utah -- the crazy wild hair idea I had never quite done during my months of freedom between graduation and Guardian. Which brings us to the

Installment:
First installment, that is. Of my trip journal.
Yes indeed, to my continued amazement, the pieces of the trip kept falling into place. Mike was back from temporary work in Harrisburg--still unemployed. If we left quickly, we would have nearly a month, and still get back 6 weeks before youth camp, which was plenty of time for all the intense planning work. Nothing huge would be missed at home. The plans marched on. I laid out my schedule for the week after my release: taxes, room, room, laundry, care group, packing. The days passed in necessary activity, my room finally bloomed in resplendent cleanliness and orderliness, and the theoretical departure loomed ever nearer. Saying good-bye to friends after lunch Sunday left a slight smudge of reality on me, but even pulling away from the house and rolling down the hill, even 8 hours of driving Sunday and 16 Monday, even the sight of mountains at the edge of the sky Tuesday morning did not penetrate my mind and heart with the reality of this trip. Climbing over the Rockies as the Mazda gasped for air, descending through the awe-inspiring Glenwood Canyon, and feeling the twinge of fear as the gas needle sidled down and no settlement, green thing or prospect of life or fuel presented itself all filled me with knowing that I was in the WEST. Drawing in great pure breaths of warm, blowing air.. letting my ears reach out as far as they might without ever meeting a din of man-made noise.. standing on a high rock with a hand on my knee, casting my eyes in a great semicircle, surveying vast land stretched out in mighty distance, rocky creekbed dry with thirst and piercing in jagged rock beauty, mesas upthrust from the land like craggy tables of desert gods.. all rich tan framed against the soft, pure blue sky... all this was the West, and all this I relished with exquisite enjoyment. But only now, as I sit facing the window, keyboard on my lap, soaking in the flickering sea of lights in the Salt Lake City valley below, is the reality slowing creeping upon me that I am back here. Back in Uncle Keith's House - the awe of my childhood. Back in the luxurious house of many stairs and levels and windows that entranced me, and still does. Back where the view out of every window draws a gasp of amazement. Others might perhaps come here and think it nothing that special, or enjoy it at a lesser level. But for me, for some reason, this place stirs me so deeply that crying seems the only fitting outlet. That, or just standing, motionless as long as reason will let me be, before the view. Such I did last time I was here, 6 or 7 years ago, when it seemed most likely that I would never be here again. Yet here I am, and my heart is full right now. There is more I could say, and will later, but this has been an attempt, shaped by listening to Milton's Paradise Lost all day, at putting into words the tugging of my heartstrings that this place stirs. With all my might I relish this moment. The whole stay is before me, untainted by the passage of time and the looming of end, pregnant with possibility and anticipation, full of rich days to be lived. This is the purest moment of any trip, and I savor it, and share it. With my future self, and with any who care to read and enter into my world.

Tasting, entranced yet burningly unsatiated, tiny earthly droplets of Heavenly bliss, I bid thee good night.

A Pittsburgh Explorer

Writing is hard.

If you'd like, please add yourself as a follower! I'd love to see where this new blog goes, and I hope that it will prove to be insightful, interesting, and helpful (even if you're not living in Pittsburgh).

Mah Room

It's a work in progress. I have dared to disturb the dreaded top closet shelf, which in turn has spewed its contents into the room like fire from an enraged dragon. It'll be nice when I finish, though. I'm filing things in the garbage bag as much as possible :)

I finally have a record player! I got a stack of vinyl at Dave's Music Mine last Saturday, and have particularly enjoyed The Best of The Guess Who. This is music that was meant to be played from records on cranked up speaker towers. Rockin' out, baby!

10 Top

Great Albums:
- "Plans" by Death Cab for Cutie
- "Black Holes and Revelations" by Muse

- "Who We Are Instead" by Jars of Clay

- "Never Take Friendship Personal" by Anberlin

- "The Everglow" by Mae

- "The Young and the Hopeless" by Good Charlotte

- "Dog Problems" by The Format
- "Who's Next" by The Who
- "New Way to Be Human" by Switchfoot
- "Speak for Yourself" by Imogen Heap

Every one of these I get excited about. If you don't have them I would passionately argue that you should get them. I wish I could grab you by the shoulders and say Buy them!!

But in truth I would rather you obtain everything ever recorded by Hank Williams Sr., a couple compilations of Johnny Cash, "When the Sun Comes Down" by Leadbelly, "The Early Years" by Woody Guthrie, and "Songs and Sounds of the Sea" (which you would have to get from me). These are songs that are enjoyed most by singing them yourself, and growing familiar with them will arm you for boredom of any sort, showers of any length, and tasks of any repetitiveness. America is poorer for not knowing songs like these, or needing them anymore. They were chiseled in the forge of a thousand campfires and wagon trains, generations of singing, and a trillion clangs of hammer on steel. When properly received, they put all of the albums listed above to shame. That I firmly believe.

[P.S. This is why nobody wants to hear songs I write or learn or want to play. For some reason, my music tastes are directed towards (self-percieved) betterment, not enjoyment. More precisely, betterment of self through true enjoyment. Or enjoyment of "truth" (i.e. value, as determined by my NSHO). But who wants a music crusader around the campfire at midnight? Freakin' play Colbie Caillat and shut up, John.]

Night Shift at the Plant

Glass rolls down the line
Numbers slowly count the time
2 am, 3 am,
One by one they go
You don't care that the rest of the world sleeps.

Bright fluorescents know no hour
Warehouse roofs ignore the sky
Walk the concrete, open doors
Heavy boots on lengthy floors

Drink your coffee
Eat your food
Quarters clink in the vending machine
Gloves in pocket
Heat on face
Got to tend to everything

Push your glasses up your nose
Take a long step over a hose
Fans churn with ceaseless pull
Stand in the door and feel the sucking air

See what but a few have seen
Worlds of heat no man can ever tread
Cautious near to take a peek within
Hot breath of the beast upon your head

Never quiet
Never still
Dust and heat
And human will

Take and make the earth our slave
Make it make what can't be made
Motors quake and rafters climb
Bend it all to our design

Two Cities, Two Lives, and Solomon

My past two weekends off I have gone on two trips, one to New York City and one to Akron, Ohio. Each of these places presented a lifestyle that part of me yearns for, and that is very different from my Pittsburgh life.

Two weeks ago I stepped into the bustling world of The King's College - a small but potent school with 200 highly motivated and ambitious students. In the heart of New York City they buffet themselves with tough, mind-shaping classes, and enter the world of high-power businesses, media, and generally the movers and shakers of our lives. Even when you babysit, you're watching the kids of multi-millionaires. Connections are around every corner and sitting in every coffee shop, and the students are thrusting themselves into every opportunity they can get.

This past weekend I entered the artistic, expressive world of the Akron/Cleveland area. Walking into the Thompsons' basement you can tell the house is filled with creatures that must express themselves. Paintings litter the walls, the basement is bursting with instruments, and Cory and Ryan's rooms are bedecked with random artifacts, paintings and signs. Craig walks around in all sorts of abnormal outfits, and never seems to play the same band twice, or any band that I recognize. Everyone plays something, and anytime two or more are gathered together, music is there. In the circles I hang out in there, local bands are thown around in conversation like the Pens or Steelers are in Pittsburgh. There are billboards for the Akron film festival, and the radio waves are full of excellent music, instead of the 80's and country that clog the Pittsburgh airwaves. People are sophisticated musically and artistically, and the cities support them.

Part of me wants to throw myself into either one of these worlds. Try to realize the potential that I believe I should have as a sharp homeschool with a Summa in chemical engineering and a restlessly analytical mind. Why shouldn't I be writing music reviews for a New York magazine? Why shouldn't I be interning at a studio, living in a Brooklyn apartment, and meeting people in the city and building a network there? I'd even settle for going back to college and returning to the joy and pain of forcing my mind around new concepts and whipping it into shape with lectures and classwork. I would love to learn about history and economics and sociology, and see what I did in a setting like that.
Or I could let go of my partial hold on normalcy and dive into the world of music people. Find a part-time job to pay the bills, join some bands, play every gig I could get, practice electric guitar every day, record my songs, write new ones, be challenged by people better than me, and work myself in to venues and radio stations and studios.

Part of me wants to do either of those.
Part.
I'm 24. If I was destined for one of those lives, an unwelcome voice whispers that I'd already be in one of them. If my soul cried for expression so strongly, I would be driven to my guitar, driven to my studio, instead of stuttering at the whim of my inspiration and sinking into laziness as a default. If I was such a brilliant mind, I'd be tearing it up at Guardian and motoring for advancement, probably with my sights on a PhD or a specific career path. Instead I sit with a couple toes in each pond, and my body resting in the comfortable, predictable suburban life of my parents and grandparents.

Enter Solomon.

He and I hung out Friday as I read Ecclesiastes. I'll give you two paraphrases of what I took away from my reading:
1) "People work and work and strive, and they never enjoy what they get, and die, and no one remembers them. That's no good. The best that there is in this world is to enjoy what you do every day, and seek wisdom."
2) The farmers always win.

Why is it that in every movie, it's the farmers who are happy? How many times have stories contrasted the dashing life of some adventurer with the peace of an agricultural community? "Magnificent Seven" acknowledged it up front at the end - the surviving gunmen are riding out of town, and Yul Brynner comments that it's the farmers who really win in the end. Jet Li's character in "Fearless" learns peace and wisdom from the village he ends up in after destroying his life with Wushu fighting. I believe that the fiction in these stories reflects the innate truth that Solomon lays out in Ecclesiastes:

What has a man from all the toil and striving of heart with which he toils beneath the sun? For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation. Even in the night his heart does not rest. This also is vanity. There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God. (Eccl. 2:22-24)

It would be folly to make myself unable to enjoy my current life by fretting for something different. And it may be ok to be ok where I'm at.

That is not a possibility I would have considered a week ago.

Akron at Last

This past weekend I made it out to Akron - the first time in '09. It was my long weekend--off from Thursday evening till Monday evening--and Steve was supposed to come to Pittsburgh to record. There ended up being some attractive events in Akron, and I wasn't feeling the recording for some reason, so I packed up and headed out Thursday night at 11:30, after a stressful evening watching Pitt lose and the Pens lose in a shootout. I rolled into the Thompsons about 1:30 and hung there with Brian, Nick, Steve-O, Cory and Ryan. Just walking into their basement was like finally putting on a jacket that fits - there were amps everywhere, guitars, 2 drumsets set up, 2 keyboards, guitar pedals littering the floor and shelves, a recording computer with 3 sets of speakers surrounding it, and stacks of audio gear everywhere. We kicked it for awhile and then Steve and I retired to the Hoffmans.

Friday Steve worked and I went to the church for a "personal retreat." I stopped at Taco Bell and Starbucks beforehand, and was pleasantly surprised to see Jess at work. It made me realize how long it's been since I'd been around. My retreat was neither fantastic nor a failure, and I wrapped up around 6:30pm. That evening Steve and I tossed around possible concerts to go to, but ended up going to Giant Eagle and getting a bunch of low-grade steaks and a movie. The steaks were quite good, and so was Eagle Eye.

Steve had to work again Saturday, but I went to a seminar that Aaron Osbourn was doing at CoG. It was about the Holy Spirit, and went from 9:30 to around 4pm. I sat in the sound room with Craig, which was nice and relaxed and private. From there we went to the Thompsons' house, which Craig was going to be house-sitting for the week. Steve took awhile to get back from work and show up, and in the interim Craig and I went shopping for supplies for Autumn's 21st birthday party that night. People started arriving around 7:30, and we had a good night eating burgers, talking around the kitchen table, jamming in the basement, and eventually chilling in the hot tub outside long long into the morning. Jes Arlia is a great guy. I'm a fan.

I got up alright Sunday morning, but I was pretty tired that day. Church was good, and packed with people from Dayton who had come for the seminar. Craig, Steve and I hit up MetroBurger for lunch with Brian and Nick, and we all drifted across the street to an awesome record store and an "artsy person" clothes store. Turns out there are clothes that fit me _perfectly_ and look _awesome_, but they cost $100+ a pop. Sad. Craig, Steve and I went back to the Thompsons and ended up crashing in Cory's room watching Flight of the Concords and falling asleep. That was sad because it was a stunning day outside, and Tuminos and Mallinacks were going for a hike. It saddened me to coup myself up in a dark room watching media drivel and drifting lazily to sleep, but that's the price for partying the night before. That evening we went to a party that Ernie - a newer man from CoG - put together for the guys in the church. We had some good snacks and talking, and watched "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," which is quite a thought-provoking movie. That night a few people came over to the Thompsons, but we didn't do much - Craig and I watched a movie and hit the sack.

Monday I woke up a little past noon, packed up, and headed to the Tuminos' for lunch. It was another gorgeous day, and it was great to hang out in the house full of life and love. I had to tear myself away, and barely made it home in time to pack my lunch cooler, change into my work clothes, put on my boots, and go to work.

Thus endeth another weekend of my life. Thoughts from this and the trip 2 weekends previous shall be forthcoming.

New York City!

It actually happened! After much speculative conversation with Debs, an abort, and a re-bort (what's the opposite of abort?), I finally en verdad found myself in the car with Debs and her freshman year roommate Lydia, driving away from the Hetricks and headed east to the big city. I was pretty awake despite working that night, and only dozed for a couple hours through the middle of PA (Don't worry, Debs was driving). We arrive on the isle of Manhattan early in the afternoon, dropped off our baggage at her apartment, and took the car to Brooklyn to park it for the weekend. I shan't tell you where, so that I may keep that little nook as my own personal free parking spot. I'm a fan. Then it was the first of many subway rides.. back into the city, to Debs' apartment: 3C5. The four roommates of 3C5 are a fixture at Kings College, and that was sort of our home base for the tumultuous days we were there. I stayed at Matt, Kyle and John's apartment a few blocks away, pretty much drifting in and out like a phantom, and only seeing them once or twice.

I'll try to recap succinctly our varied adventures. After getting settled Friday we toured The King's College, which is located in the basement of the Empire State Building. Adventures getting through security. Ask me about it :-P
At first we were going to attend a TKC event that included dinner, but we ended up bailing and finding a pub to watch the Penguins game. Really really good coconut shrimp, Bushmills, and hockey game. By the end of the night most of the 3C5 girls and some other folks had congregated at our table, listening to Debs tell stories from work. I split at 12:30, when my lack of sleep finally caught up with me. Of course, I stayed up another 2 hours having a quiet time and soaking in the city from the 17th-floor apartment. So cool!

Saturday was crazy. I got up of my own accord at 7:30, and decided to go for a walk instead of sleeping more. So I forayed out with only a hoodie, seeking the edge of the island, not realizing it was actually 35 degrees out, despite being sunny. I never quite turned around, but I got really stinking cold. Worth it, though. I saw a helipad, a ConEd utility vehicle base, some crazy trucking center, a subway utility yard, and this random dock with boats and stuff that you could just walk on. It was sunny, fresh, blue skies and wonderful. Got back around 10:30, met up with Debs, and headed out with her and her friend Angie. We got frozen yogurt at Pinkberry (yogurt that's frozen. Not "less-fatty-ice-cream" that most of us call frozen yogurt), and darted into a pub to watch some rugby. Never mind the details, we ended up at The Frick, a sweet art museum, with Johanna, one of Debs' roommates. From there we killed some time at 3C5 playing risk, and headed to brgr for dinner with a big group of people. Best hamburger I've ever eaten, bar none. Then we all took a walk to this bakery, the cupcakes of which are the rave of everybody at Kings. Not life-changing, but the red velvet one was pretty good.
Our next activity, after some more chilling at the apartment, was Debs' hockey game. She plays with a league when she lives there, and her coach let her play this weekend, which she was stoked about. That game was one of my favorite parts of the trip - it was a lot of fun to watch, Debs' team played well, and it really made me appreciate the quality of hockey at the pro level, 'cause I'd never had anything to compare it to before. The game was from 11:30pm to 12:30am. At 2 Debs and I headed out from 3C5 to meet up with her friend Kyle at "Fat Baby," a club. Yes, we went clubbing! It was just like a movie - line out the front of the building, bouncer talking smack on everybody, dark inside with flashing lights, DJ boppin' and spinnin' records, everybody drinking and dancing.. the whole deal. Neither of us were at home in that scene, but it was still interesting to have done, and Kyle is a cool guy. We ended up going back to his apartment and watching Ferris Bueler's Day off, finally catching a cab back home at 5:30 :-) So that was Saturday - 22 straight hours of New Yorkinating, starting with a bagel sandwich at Pax and ending with the morning light creeping up the sides of the buildings as the cab threaded it's way through the still-busy streets.

Sunday we met up around 9:30 and rode into Brooklyn for church. We had enough time to stop at Blue Sky Bakery, whose muffins Debs had been talking up for a long time. Turns out, Blue Sky is pretty much the coolest bakery in the universe, and you have not even conceived of the possibility for deliciousness in a muffin until you've had one of theirs! Their coffee is incredible, too. I got a T-shirt, which is also bangin, and the whole place was much cheaper and friendlier than the Manhattan places we'd been the previous days. I like Brooklyn.
Church was awesome, and was perhaps the highlight of the trip, just for the happiness of being near God. We hooked up with another Kings College girl who goes to City Church, got some chinese for lunch, and picked up my car, which was still safe and sound thank you Lord. Drive into the city, waited by the curb for people to bring all the bags down, packed up the Mazda, said our good-byes, and headed out into the rest of the world.

The drive home was the low point of the trip. I had the post-trip heartache pretty bad, plus I had been around tons of very driven, accomplished people in a moving-and-shaking city, and was feeling pretty frustrated with my life. More on that later. By the time I dropped the girls off and got back to the people-less, dog-less house, I was as low as I could be. AND I had to get up at 4:15 and go to work. Dark times. So after 0 hours of sleep, 5 hours of sleep and 3 hours of sleep, I hit the sack at 2am for a brief nap, and then on with the next day. A sour taste in my mouth after a trip that was packed with a lot of cool things and experiences. I'm glad it worked out, and I still love New York City and want to go back whenever I can.

If you want to know me, listen to my songs.

Everything from well-informed, accurate--if shallow--faith back in '04:

Jesus, sacrifice
You were slain to pay the price
That should have been required of me.
Jesus, God's own Son
You're the perfect righteous One
All of Heaven bows before Thee.
Thine was the terror, and Thine the shame
Now Thine is the name above all other names

Son of God what can I say to You?
There is nothing worthy I can do
I can only stand in awe
At mercy deeper than my fall
I have no ground on which to stand,
Except upon Your nail-pierced hands.

To deep frustration at the course and nature of my life a year or so later:

And I don't understand why You made me this way
And I don't understand who I am
And I don't understand why You fill up my hand
Till every thing overflows and slips away
Slips away...

And I don't know why You've given me
So much more than I can hold
And I don't know why You keep hitting me
As I keep getting old
And I don't know why time slips away
And nothing seems to change
And I don't know how You love me just the same
Just the same...

Yet always (95% of the time) remaining in the generally happy state of my blessed life:

Building Legos, model cars
Talkin' 'bout the War of Stars,
All the ways we whiled away the time for all those years
Quoting movies, no one knew
What we meant but me and you
The humor just went right over their heads

You go a-long with what's going on
You've never been somewhere that wasn't better for you being there..

How good and how pleasant it can be
When brothers dwell in unity!
Your time at home is coming to an end
I'll miss you, my brother and my friend.

And still remaining relatively light-hearted, positive, and strange :-)

Take a cup and fill it slowly now,
Pour it with care.
Empty out the can completely now,
Nothing left in there.
Take a sip and sip it slowly now,
Savor your fare.
Open up a Dr.Pepper and happiness is there.

Then God blew into my life like a hurricane for 2 months:

Don't doubt! Trust in what you know He says
Just step out! Step out on His promises
He'll meet you - look at all the lives around!
Just trust Him. Trust Him with your life.

But I settled back into the same old valley, slowly settling deeper and deeper:

If I say I'm sorry
Will I mean it this time?
I can swear to leave it
But I'm staying behind

How can You save me if I don't want to be saved?
How can You hear me if I don't mean what I pray?
How can You love me when I've thrown it all away?
Am I lost
If I don't mean what I pray?

And always, ever, never getting away from knowing I should be doing more with my life, but not doing it, and not knowing how to:

Look at all the pathways that I could take in life
Traveling the world or marrying a wife
Staying close to home, or moving far away
Anything I wanna do is possible, they say

But I put on my boots and go to work and live another day
In the same old car, the same old smile, and the same old aimless way
If I could just see where to throw myself, I'd give it all away
But I put on my boots, and go to work, and live another day

All the comforts of home that you love
All the potential that you're dreaming of
All could be yours, or all could be naught..
But time passes by and you've only got one shot

All the songs I write and all the instruments I play
But I put on my boots, and go to work, and live another day.

So will this win out in the end? Or will the words of "On My Side" prevail?

Time after time
Time after time lookin' out the door
Time after time
Time after time what's He waiting for?
What's He waiting for?

But You were always on my si - de
You were always on my si - de
I couldn't tame You I couldn't blame You
I couldn't tame You I couldn't blame You
I couldn't trace You, I couldn't chase away Your plans for me

Three from the Sea

Three.
I see three.
Three I see.
Three I see--that's three for me.
Three for me and that's all I see.

But wait - there's more!
Do I see four??
Could there be four for me?
Four I see;
That's more than three;
But still that's not
a lot
for me.

This poem is an ode to my Shrimp flavor "Cup o' Noodles," and the dried sea critters therein.

And a tip of the hat to Dr. Seuss and Ogden Nash :-)

Doings Lately

Time for an update, so all is not lost to the vistant magues of time.

This past weekend was one of my precious "long" weekends - from getting off day shift Thursday at 6pm to starting night shift Monday at 6pm. I had been planning for awhile to go to a Mae show at Messiah Saturday night, but I decided not to, which was nice 'cause I got to be here for Mom's birthday (also Saturday).
Thursday at work ended lousily, and I didn't get to basketball till about 7:15pm. 45 minutes of bump-and-bash basketball was not at all satisfactory.

Friday I slept most of the morning away, and did some errands in the afternoon. Landed some SWEET work shirts and T-shirts at the thrift store. That evening Mom and Dad and I went out for a nice dinner, which was a Christmas present this year. We were going to go to Kaya at the Strip, but they were reservation only (Hmm. It does happen to be Friday night before Valentine's Day :-/). We ended up at Kiku - Pittsburgh's first sushi place. So good! The first time I've had octopus sashimi that was actually good.

Saturday was a nice, pleasant day in Mom's honor. We had coffee and cinnamon rolls in the morning, and I made tortilla pizzas for lunch. There was a Pitt basketball game at 4, and Daniel and Kyle got here about 6pm. We had steaks for dinner, and then sat around the family room watching the Penguins and giving Mom presents. Kyle and I stayed up and watched a little TV after everybody hit the sack, but I got pretty tired, and actually went to bed at midnight!

Sunday we had church at the Upper Saint Clair High School, due to an unavoidable using of Independence Middle School for that one Sunday of the year. I wasn't needed on tech team, so I got a full night's sleep, which was cool. There wasn't much going on after church, so I headed home and we had Wal-Mart pizza (so incredibly good!). It took some mad texting and a couple phone calls, but I finally ironed out plans for that evening. It was my night to stay up late in preparation for night shift, so I enlisted the help of Shannon and Debs, fellow night owls, so pass the time away. They came here, and then we all trekked to the Grahams' house up on Mt. Washington. Which by the way I loved. We went down to Station Square with Andrew, but there wasn't much going on there, and it was pretty cold. Definitely have to come back when it's warm and lively. Then it was all into Pepsi Blue and off down the freshly-snowed streets to Pitt, to meet up with Thomas at Fuel 'n' Fuddle. One delicious pizza and one AMAZING celtic red ale later, it was back home for some chillin', and then off our separate ways. A good night. Nice to have some snow again - I miss the whiteness when it's gone.

So that was the weekend. Nothing earth-shaking, but I think it was valuable to be with Mom on her birthday, and it was nice to see Daniel and not miss church.

One other cool thing from the weekend: I finally cracked the puzzle of how to record College Song! It's a chill, fun, Dispatch-ish song about just moving in to college, and every attempt I've made to record it has been wrong. Too sterile.. the groove is destroyed.. it doesn't fit. Well, stick your most basic mic ever (Shure SM-57) in front of you, and play guitar and sing into it at the same time. Then stick the same mic over by the guitar amp and lay down electric and bass. Then swing it back over and stick it under bongos. Bam. There you go! Yay! That's my true love in recording: Simple, natural, REAL, clever, rule-breaking, full of life and dynamics and richness. If only I had a good-sounding room to use!

Yesterday... was Tuesday. Monday, however, was cool 'cause Debs came over around 2 to watch the Pen's away game against the Islanders. I made tortilla pizzas and espressos, which were delish, but were a poor salve to the wound of our loss to the only team below us in our division :-( Arg Pens! Come on! It was also a bummer to pack up and leave at 5 when people were coming for the Pitt game that night. Ah well. I enjoyed watching the box score on my computer at work and seeing the numbers stack up for Blair and Young as Pitt stayed ahead and soundly beat #1 UConn. Woo HOO, baby!

Today I slept till 3, evaporated some time in texting and talking with Mom, and then lifted weights downstairs, which felt GREAT! I'll pay for it the next 2 days, but you gotta start somewhere. I've been creeped out by how comparatively weak I've gotten, and that ain't gonna change unless I get down there and start buffeting. Now I'm enjoying my white chocolate mocha, absorbed in the white bright world of this computer screen since Mom's got all the lights off 'cause of her migraine. I've got my nice isolating earphones in and Kraftwerk is filling my head with their beautiful, mechanical, seminal electronica. Looking ahead, Nate Dogg is coming over tonight to play bass, I might try to hit a Maxi-Saver movie, tomorrow looks like Strip District, maybe Marley and Me with Mom, and basketball in the evening. Then working nights all weekend and MISSING OUT ON JUSTIN BEING HERE! :-( :-( Hopefully we can hang out a bit Saturday afternoon. Oy. I need to meet with Mr. Pierson asap about youth camp workload distributions, and 2 weekends after this one looks like the first yickie pickie 2009 meeting, which will get youth camp stuff rolling in earnest. I also want to start the final recording of College Song (the one I was talking about was just a scratchpad recording). Hopefully I can keep the vibes of it alive. Recording by yourself is a tricky, psychological, frustrating and delicate process. Unless you were a long-experienced, well-practiced musician, which I am not.

I think I'll sign off for now. More has gone on further back than this past weekend, but I care not to extend further this post, which is already more than what I planned, and less concise than I might wish. Peace. I hope.