Sound and Fury

It

2009-07-22T00:47:00.003-06:00

Sigh.

There hasn't been much activity on the blogosphere lately, and even less on my blog. I was kind of really bummed out after Chris's last post for at least two years, maybe even more... he seems kind of unsure as to whether he'll continue blogging, at least in the same place. Which is a same, since reading his cool ideas and crazy plans and thoughts and feelings was pretty darn cool for me these past few years.

Part of it is that I haven't felt like writing anything... I haven't had anything to write about. And I still don't, this post is just... writing about how I don't have anything to write about.

I'm feeling really guilty about a few things... and really sad about a lot of others.

Which isn't really new. So.

I've had a lot on my mind lately. By "a lot," I mean more than the usual, which is sort of already a lot. That probably won't go down by the time school starts, which will mean even more things for me to worry about and stress about and be depressed about. Haha. Hooray!

College is just oodles of fun.

But seriously, I miss school. I miss having class and things to do to take my mind off of things. Sitting around doing nothing (basically) doesn't really help. And college makes me feel like I have friends. Friends who will be there every day, like it or not, and who won't be leaving in a month... or several months...

Blah.

Harry Potter the 6th was a lot funnier than I was expecting. So. That's good.

I've missed a few movies that I wanted to see lately. Finding people to go with is troublesome. And going to the movies alone just kind of seems sad to me. But I'll have to do it at some point, so... I might as well start now, right?

I haven't really talked to anybody lately. Maybe one or two conversations per day, which compared to me previously, is pretty low. I just don't have anything to say these days. Well, I do, but it's things that are probably better kept to myself and that nobody I can think of would really care about. Haha. So. There.

What else do I have to talk about?

Um.

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Hold on.

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Uh...

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Nope, that's it.

What If... Google is evil?

2009-07-03T15:51:00.004-06:00

I've decided to forgo infrequent long-form posts for more frequent short posts.

Here goes.

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What if Google is evil?

Their products are almost too perfect and detailed. You can use Google products to make websites for free, email, blogs, post videos, and now they have an Internet browser. They own YouTube and I wouldn't put it past them to make an offer on Facebook and Twitter. You can instantly share and edit documents with others online, make a calendar, obviously search the Internet... all of this for free! They live on through small web-based advertising and sponsored search results. And Google is a multi-billion dollar company with over 20,000 employees. Their list of acquisitions is over 50, and their list of products and services is at least twice that.

Holy crap.

Their unofficial motto, according to Wikipedia, is "Don't be evil." But what if that's just a ruse to throw the rest of the world off?

Somewhere deep in the bowels of Google, is there a clandestine meeting of international power-brokers that gathers to decide the fate of the world? Yes, there is.

Google decides the fate of the world! What if the next product they make is Google Home--with pictures of inside every house in the world?!?!

What if they follow their self-censorship move into China into North Korea? Google will be working with the evilest and least fashion-sensible man in the world!!!!

Eventually, Google would be the only ones controlling the information of the world, which isn't that far off from how things are anyway. Creepy.

Tune in next time for "What If..."!!!!

Against Happiness

2009-06-28T02:34:00.004-06:00

I started reading a book today. It's called Against Happiness.

Now, that sounds depressing, but it's not really. The author, Eric G. Wilson, isn't a psychologist, but is instead a self-described "literary humanist"--that is, a thinker who is truly concerned with the future of our species.

So he doesn't think happiness is bad. He just thinks that the modern American belief that happiness is the ultimate goal for every person, and that it is fully attainable, and our use of technology and artificiality to obtain it, is deeply flawed and misguided. I have to say that I agree.

Problems can't really be fixed with laptops, iPods, cell phones, Ambien, Zoloft, Prozac, liposuction, and TV. The idea that we can be completely happy, and that these are the tools we use to get there, is baffling and dangerous.

As he puts it, melancholia is very different from depression. There are some people that do need medication and therapy for serious clinical depression. But being sad about the state of the world or your life is not in itself a bad thing.

In fact, it can be productive. For if we were never sad, there would never be a catalyst, a need for change.

Melancholy is, I would say, a major source of creative inspiration.

Without melancholy, most of the greatest artists would've just kept painting still lifes and portraits, writing joyous divertimentos, sculpting busts, and writing comedies.

There would be no beautiful tragedy like Romeo and Juliet; there would be no "Starry Night"; there would be no "Resting in the Peace of His Hands" (a sculpture); there would be no unbearably tragic and moving "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs"--there couldn't even be most of the songs on the radio. There would be no need for art other than for painting houses and elevator music.

I don't know about you, but I couldn't live without art. Therefore, how can we live without melancholy?

Normal

2009-06-27T18:04:00.001-06:00

You know, I just realized that nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong with the world, or with me. Everything's normal.

But I have a really big problem with normal.

Normal isn't that great. In fact, normal really sucks most of the time.

So I guess that's my problem with life. It is how it's always been. And I don't like it. But it won't change.

I guess.

2009-06-26T02:38:00.003-06:00

I'm so weird. I get torn between wanting desperately to talk to someone and, when someone is actually talking to me, acting like a jerk or something to make a point... or something like that. I don't really know.

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I guess it's a good thing I haven't had a girlfriend yet, because I haven't met any of the girls I've liked to date in a manner that would make a good romantic comedy.

WTF, self.

2009-06-25T02:59:00.002-06:00

I'm up at 3:01 AM. I can't sleep. I've been trying for about an hour. Eventually I just gave up and came downstairs.

I tried everything, really. With music, without... different pillows, different sides... but nope.

So here I am. Writing without much of a point.

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Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if I were a guest on the Colbert Report or the Daily Show in 15 or 20 years. I mean, if it's still around. Maybe a show like that. Somehow I don't think that they'd really have a musician on there, but... they had a poet on the Colbert Report the other day and they always have people who are selling books on those two shows. So maybe if I write a cool book about classical music (oxymoron? I don't think so, but you might), then I could get on one of those shows. If they're still around. Which they probably won't be.

But anyway, the reason I think about that is because most of the guests aren't as quick as the hosts. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert can fire the jokes and the funny questions out faster than a cow out of a catapult, but the guests generally don't know how to respond, or at least just aren't as funny. I think that I would be pretty funny if I were on one of those shows. ... Maybe. I doubt we'll ever know, but it's a fun thing to think about.

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To those of you who read this blog and don't comment: I'm not pressuring you to comment, don't worry, I'm just thanking you for your silent readership. Haha. It's good to know there are some people out there who care about the mostly meaningless ramblings contained in this blog. Or are just so bored that they can't find anything better to do.

Either way, thanks.

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I'm in a sort of general melancholy these days. For a variety of reasons that I'd rather not discuss openly on the internet. Sorry, it's Internet with a capital "I love the Internet."

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Sigh. 3:25 and no sign of being tired. Guess I'll have to find some things to do for... like, seven hours...

There's a Fire

2009-06-21T01:03:00.003-06:00

I wrote this poem last night, at around 2 A.M. After I finished it, I wrote the second installment of my first letter to Melanie. I finished it today around 5 P.M. I still need to mail it, but... at least it's done.

Here's the poem. It's not very good, but... make of it what you can.

There's a Fire

There's a fire
The sun pierces lazily
the throbbing clouds
of springtime
held over these few weeks into June

There's a fire
The cars on the interstate
greedily reflect said sun
as they hurriedly pass me by
sounding of worry

There's a fire
The awkward glance I give
to the girl next to me
waiting to cross the street
that she doesn't return

There's a fire
The word I've read
twenty times over
captivated by
"uncompromising"

There's a fire
The moon as it rises
bigger than the stars
that I can't see past
the city lights

If I were...

2009-06-20T01:16:00.003-06:00

If I were President, I'd make classical music mandatory.

Everybody would have to listen to it. We'd replace crappy elevator muzak with real classical music. Restaurants, from La Caille to McDonald's would be required to play everyone from Adams to Zwilich in the background.

There'd be at least twice as much money given to the NEA (the National Endowment for the Arts, stupid). Not just classical music, see, but everything. All of the arts. Those restaurants would also have sculptures and art hanging, supported with government money.

Sigh. Okay, so all of that probably wouldn't happen, but I'd definitely increase government support of the arts. Arts are fundamental to the survival of our country--if not the physical, then the economical and, more importantly, the spiritual.

I'm not saying that we should make classical music more popular than popular music--that's never going to happen. But it should be a viable alternative. Which it sort of is, but I do think there should be more government support of it. I don't think classical music will die. People are always predicting the death of classical music. They have been for more than 100 years. So I think we're fine (if by fine I mean continuously on the razor's edge. Which I do).

Sigh. If only.

Wait

2009-06-17T23:49:00.003-06:00

I've been listening to NPR's radio quiz show, Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!, for a few years now, I think. I think more people should listen to it. Not only is it one of the funniest shows ever, and probably the funniest one on radio, it's really smart, mostly improvised, which leads to some crazily funny moments, and it's a great source of world news. Even though it is primarily a comedy, it does still test the phone-in contestants' and the panelists' knowledge of the week's news. Peter Sagal is also a perfect host, and there are some very funny panelists.

I don't know, I just think it's a lot of fun. If you don't have a lot of news sources, it's a great place to start. They feature a lot of bizarre stories, and have a lot of celebrity guests, so ... it's just good, (mostly) clean fun.

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I kind of want a girlfriend. Haha. Much as I might say I don't want one.

Oh well. Maybe in a few years.

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Or not.

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I think I should make more lists. Not those moderately useful but boring and clichéd lists, like: "10 Favorite Foods"; "10 Favorite Colors"; or "10 Cities to Visit Before I Die." More interesting but utterly pointless lists, such as: "10 Things to Have in my Cellar in Case of Zombie Apocalypse"; "10 Pickup Lines to Never Ever Use"; "147 Phrases That Are Utterly Unacceptable in Everyday Conversation"; or "10 Most Wanted Delusions If/When I Become Schizophrenic."

Don't worry, I'm going to create all of the last four lists soon. Really.

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I'm such a slacker. And by extension, a loser.

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The end.

Playlist

2009-06-08T22:25:00.002-06:00

Playlist (songs/composers I've been listening to lately--this idea stolen from Alex Ross, a fantastic music critic whose blog, The Rest Is Noise, and book of the same name, are uniformly fabulous):

1--"Hide and Seek," Imogen Heap
2--"How It Ends" and "Dearly Departed," DeVotchKa
3--"Dimmer," Bishop Allen
4--"Cliquot" and "Scenic World," Beirut
5--John Adams
6--"Bored to Hear Your Heart Still Breaks," Tullycraft
7--"Oh No" and "Like An Arrow," Lavender Diamond
8--"Everything In Its Right Place," Radiohead
9--Arvo Pärt

And now the why's:

1--This song's vocal harmonies are so rich. It also has a devastating feeling of nostalgia and just love.
2--DeVotchKa does sad so well... These songs are the epitome of the late-night sad song. And besides that, they're just great songs from a fabulous band.
3--Bishop Allen is just fun. Dimmer is ridiculously catchy.
4--Beirut has a great way of capturing the feeling of being in Eastern Europe with a bunch of white kids playing along with the local bands, and making it cool.
5--Mostly his concerto for (six-stringed) electric violin, entitled "The Dharma at Big Sur." Adams is usually known for his nervous energy or moderately tempoed unfolding patterns, but "Dharma" is an achingly beautifully slowly paced meditation, at least for the first movement. But I love all of Adams's music.
6--Tullycraft is just fun. They're the nerdiest band ever, but just tons o' fun. Just like my friends.
7--I first got into Lavender Diamond because the lead singer, Becky Stark, played/sung a character on The Decemberists' album "The Hazards of Love." She was Margaret, the innocent heroine, and I fell in love with her airy yet strong soprano, and LD's EP and full-length, "Imagine Our Love," definitely didn't disappoint. "Like An Arrow," surprisingly, has a lot of influence from minimalist music. I dig.
8--I like minimalist/ambient just as much as the next guy, and this song is pretty cool--probably my fave on that album, "Kid A," which is the only one I've listened to at any length. But honestly, I'm wondering if Radiohead is really as great as everyone thinks they are. At least, nothing I've heard so far is terribly world-throttling.
9--Sigh... Pärt... His music is just so calm, yet it's so sad... That's the kind of music I tend to go for, I guess. I'm definitely a sucker for sad music. I love it.

Anyway. That's that.

Don't/do read this

2009-05-27T23:08:00.002-06:00

I watched a sort of bad movie today. Bad as in quality. It wasn't fantastic, wasn't terrible, but was mildly okay.

This line reminded me of me:

"I'm just scared. Every time I try to go for something, my heart gets stomped on like a baby kitten."

I'm not sure if it reminded me of me because that's what happens, or because that's what I feel/pretend happens.

Of course, you're all (all one or two of you) now thinking it's the latter.

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I always lose focus at about this point in the blog.

Kinda pathetic, no?

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Let's see. What do I have to look forward to this summer?

Well, my best friend is leaving for a year and a half.

I don't have a job, which is mostly my fault.

I'm taking lessons with a cool clarinet teacher but have yet to establish a daily practice regimen.

I have a composition project to get done that, let's face it, might not get done.

I might hang out with friends once or twice a week, all of us trying to ignore/fight/avoid the fact that we're all slowly slipping away from being great friends.

I have a movie project to get done. Also might not get done.

Vacations might be taken.

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How fun. Hooray.

Hopefully it won't be as bad as all that. And do remember, I'm a pessimist. Or realist. I prefer being called the latter, but people probably think I'm the former.

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Sigh. I don't really have anything else to say. Sorry for wasting your time. Or you're welcome for giving you something to read to kill some time.

Whichever.

Revolutions

2009-05-08T01:12:00.001-06:00

This poem was posted a while ago, but it's undergone some revisions, thanks mostly to my creative writing teacher and class, and Jaron. See what you think.

Revolutions

We are pinwheels scattered in the sky,
colliding at random, blown by the wind.
This cycle repeats in intervals.
This same air mauls
Tristan and Iseult,
Pelléas and Mélisande,
this old draft, old terror.
We fare no better, our happy undone hiding,
raked by the breeze.
This wind will know no calm.
This cycle repeats in intervals.
A softer turn, our faith recovered—
dashed again with a stronger wind.
My mind wreaks havoc with September.
(They play and ploy in these streets.)

A hit!
Pull away, spin apart, come back again
and again
and again
until we shatter.
This cycle repeats in intervals.
The year is far too long for four seasons;
it must have been only three this time.
Everything happens
don’t say for a reason,
even if it’s true.
This cycle repeats in intervals.

We wish to direct the flow;
that ideal is hard to make real.
April winds will not be more forgiving
but in the intervening?
Pick up the pieces and tape it back to working order—
This cycle repeats in intervals.

Finals?

2009-05-01T10:44:00.003-06:00

Maybe if I post often enough, more people will read this.

So this is me posting.

I just had my clarinet jury today... For those of you who don't know what that is, it's like a final but for your lessons. You play the piece that you've been working on in your lessons, with a pianist and in front of your teacher and the other woodwind professors. It went... okay, I guess.

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I have three or four finals next week. I don't know exactly how many yet. I know it's weird, but one of them is sort of pending.

I'm also going to see my friend Lonny's final project tonight. He's in the film department, so it's a short film. It looks really good. It's about a compulsive recycler who finds love on TRAX and FrontRunner. What's not to love?

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I'm supposed to be looking for a job right now. Waiting on Jaron and Rachel to respond to me to see if they want to go with me. Of course, I don't know why they would.... it can't be that much fun. But anyway...

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Yeah, that's all for now.

Summer

2009-04-26T23:48:00.003-06:00

So. It's almost summer.

This year went by so quickly... School tends to do that, I guess. Of course, that means the summer will go by even faster... Sigh.

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I go so long between posts... it doesn't feel like that long, but I guess it's been two weeks since the last one? Weird.

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I saw Slumdog Millionaire today. It was pretty good. Very realistic but fantastic at the same time. However, I didn't really feel like it was Best Picture-worthy, but... that's the Academy for you.

Also, parts of it were very predictable. There were 2 or 3 parts where, a minute or so before something happened, I knew what was going to happen next. I don't know if it's just me or the movie itself, but yeah.

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It's starting to feel really late, even though it's not that late. But I'll probably be up for another few hours.

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I saw the SpongeBob SquarePants movie yesterday. Oh, it's not the first time, it's more like the fifth or sixth time. Good stuff. It kills me that people our age say that SpongeBob is too immature (actually, it has tons of jokes for adults, and it's so plain ridiculous that it appeals to a lot of age groups--after all, gotta keep the parents entertained while they're watching it with their kids) and yet they watch (or read) things like Twilight or High School Musical or whatever crappy movie Zac Efron or the guy who played Edward happen to be in.

For some reason, regressing from college back to elementary school seems better to me than going from college to high school. Maybe it's because the girls in SpongeBob are a lot less... skanky. And they're fish.

So don't call me immature for watching SpongeBob. It's about a million times more well-written than Twilight, and the music is better than High School Musical, too.

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Hmm... This summer should be interesting. A lot of high school friends will be coming back. It might be a little awkward, though, since we don't know each other as well anymore. We're different people. They might not want to hang out with me, and maybe vice versa. I might... probably not... but might... have a job. I'll be taking lessons with Lee Livengood again for a few months. Preparing for school next semester. Practicing as much as I... want to. Finishing the piece for clarinet and piano that I'm writing for the ICA Composition Competition.

So that's my summer.

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To everyone that I've complained about my life to, I'm sorry. I know that a lot of the things that I feel sad about or like to complain about are silly or illogical or stupid. I try not to complain a lot of the time, because I know it's silly... it doesn't work all the time, though. I guess that's just the kind of person I am. I have to talk out my problems with other people.

'Course, if I don't talk about it with others, I just talk it out with myself. Haha. I have lots of conversations in my head.

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This is my longest post in a long time. I don't want to screw it up.

So I'm ending it now. Haha. If there's anything you ... whoever that is, want to know that you don't already know from talking to me, or that I haven't put up here, go ahead and ask me. If not... yeah. Till next time...

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2009-04-12T02:05:00.004-06:00

I've fallen in love with a new band--Bishop Allen. All my weird music is suspiciously amazing.

Suspicious in the sense that it's weird that it's all so good.

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School is almost over.

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Wind Ensemble, Quartet, and Phil concerts this week. Plus something else I'm probably forgetting. Awesome.

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Tan Dun's Water Passion was one of the coolest things I've ever heard.

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This post is really... odd.

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One of these things is high:
1) Michael Phelps
2) My self-esteem

Pick one

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At the risk of being repetitive: Two Saturday nights at home in a row. I think this is a pattern I better get used to.

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I don't know if this log is even worth having.

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kthxbye

Shi[p] in a bottle

2009-04-01T00:01:00.002-06:00

Lately I've been thinking a lot of things.

Mostly I've been thinking that I shouldn't complain about my life... so if something's wrong, I probably won't say so.

I used to just complain, complain, complain all the time. All the time. I bet it got really old to my friends. Sorry for all the annoyance I've probably caused you.

So. Unless you have some really weird desire to know what I'm whining about on the inside, I'll just keep my lid on.

ICA Comp Comp

2009-03-23T00:04:00.002-06:00

"Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Mm-hmm.

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The International Clarinet Association has a Composition Competition. The composition in question has to be for clarinet and piano.

A few weeks ago I had to write and perform a piece for the Eck Regional Seminar, and it felt to me like it was bigger than just a small solo clarinet piece. I've been toying around with the idea of writing something longer, so maybe I'll take a stab at this contest. I think it'd be a fun project for the summer. For sure. And more productive than sitting around and playing video games all summer.

Anyway. That's all.

A rant of sorts

2009-03-12T14:22:00.010-06:00

Handwriting is going the way of the Gutenberg printer. Which is a shame, really. I find handwriting fascinating and I still find the time to write things out--especially music. I find writing music using only the computer a severe bore and just... not very good.

Anyway, it'd be interesting if I blogged by hand, then scanned it in and put it up here. I can do that now, you know. It'd be a little more time consuming, but that's alright. Of course, you may be wondering, well, isn't that just journaling? But journals have a very different format than blogs--blogs are addressed to an audience, and in fact, very self-conscious. I know I'm always conscious that I'm writing this for an audience and have to create the post in such a way that it won't be too confusing or too boring or too whatever. Even though I usually fail at all of those.

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So, what's new in my life? I recently had a poem (Revolutions, in one of my earlier posts, but revised considerably) workshopped in my creative writing class, and it brought a lot of perspective--not just to that poem, but to all my poems. Of course, I've pretty much rejected all those earlier poems as juvenile and not worth very much. There are a few that might still have something worth saving, and maybe I'll try a reclamation of sorts, but other than that I consider them mostly discarded.

My short story, the one about Dennis that you (maybe) read here, was also workshopped, in more complete form than you saw here. It's not finished, since I feel it's part of a larger story, although most of me seems to have lost the impulse to write any more of it. That was also interesting... Mostly it just needs to be less confusing and I need to dwell on the digressions. I know it seems odd taking more time on things that don't have anything to do with the main story, but Derek said, and I now agree, that it serves the tone of the piece much better and he was very intrigued by some of the digressions but felt they were too short--he wanted to see more.

Personally, I wouldn't mind seeing more of Dennis, either.

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Oh, and he loved me using exclamation points as section breaks.

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This is my first new post since what, January? Wow. I feel like I've learned a lot since then, about myself and whatnot. Cool beans.

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I'm afraid. Not gonna lie. I'm afraid for the future. Well, I'm afraid for what the future will bring. But also excited. And nervous. That's very true.

These next few months alone will bring huge changes, not to mention this summer, where I'll probably (hopefully) get a job, or next school year, when I start taking composition classes (!) and fail to rejoin the marching band (it was a fun year, but I think it might kill me if I do it with my planned schedule).

I want to get a job at somewhere working with some sort of paper. Not like Dunder Mifflin, but something like a bookstore or a music store or a library. Somewhere quiet or at least musical.

Next year I'm going to take a lot of classes I'm really excited about. I'm going to take (besides Theory, Musicianship, Keyboard, lessons, and the ensembles) Music Technology, Music History, Composition Seminar (learning how to write music in styles of specific periods), and Conducting (most likely with Scott Hagen, the director of Wind Ensemble). I'm really excited for all of these classes... I think they're going to really help me grow as a musician.

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Speaking of composition, I really want to make more time in my life for writing music... I have some good ideas (at least, I think they're good), and I want to expand on them and make them a reality instead of just ideas.

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For our next (and last...)Wind Ensemble concert, we're playing a very new piece, finished just last year: David Maslanka's Symphony No. 8. Ever since I first heard his Symphony No. 3 played by Northwestern University's Wind Symphony, I've really liked his style of writing--very tonal, yet still modern-sounding, very lyrical, and extremely emotional, even spiritual. His Symphony No. 8 is no less powerful. It's "45 minutes of sheer terror," as Prof. Hagen says--very difficult, very long, very taxing, physically and emotionally. Yet I'm really looking forward to it.

Maslanka's writings and interviews portray his spirituality and sense of music. It thrills me to read them, because many of his viewpoints on how music should make us feel and how he feels about music spiritually are very close or identical to mine.

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Being a composition student scares me. Almost all the compositions I hear by other comp students are completely atonal and abstract. Atonal music, to me, has absolutely no significance, no emotional pull, except in very rare instances. Tonal, yet dissonant, music is where my impulse and creativity lies. I'm just concerned that I won't find a teacher who will encourage that--according to other comp students, some of the teachers push their students towards atonal music because it's what's "pure" and "intellectual" and it's "a higher form of music." I don't want a higher form of music. I want primal. I want some serious digging into the feelings of my audience. I don't want to impress them with some abstract pattern I conceive that they can't even recognize without looking at a score and reading my comments. I want an immediate reaction, a visceral reaction.

I want music.

Because that's what music is to me--emotion and power.

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Anyway. Sorry for the ranting? I don't know. That's how I feel. I'm worried but hopefully it'll all work out and my worrying will be unfounded like it sometimes is.

That was fun... peace.

Part the third

2009-01-26T00:51:00.004-07:00

Dennis stared at the pathetic shredded meat in his watery can of tuna, wondering why it was more expensive to fish for tuna without killing a lot of dolphins, and also a little sad that he couldn't afford to save the dolphins.

After being released from the hospital, later the same day that Jennifer Marie Jackson(he'd learned her name from the police report) had come to visit him, he'd had to go to court. He'd made bail, but that was mostly because the state didn't really see a desperate, broke man who tried to rob a bank with his nephew's squirt gun as a flight risk.

His court-appointed lawyer, H.R. Copperbottom, a whale (Dennis idly wondered if the tuna fishermen killed them, too) of a man, his greasy hair receding, his fat face and several chins covered with sweat that wasn't wicked away by the tiny fan in his crowded, filthy office, had said that he'd probably get off light.

"Juries are big on tug-your-heartstrings stories. And you're the sorriest sucker I've seen in here in a while!" He guffawed. Chunks of that day's number six combo flew from his mouth as Dennis stared, hypnotized by the man's mouth (or, to continue the metaphor, his blowhole), and carefully calculated the arcs of the globules headed in his direction before concluding that he wouldn't have to dodge after all.

Dennis took the last clean knife from the drawer and proceeded to spread the cold, watery, dolphin-meat-containing tuna on the soggy, mayonnaise-slathered white bread (why Wonder? Sliced bread was no longer a marvel, nor was the product itself wonderful by any definition of the word), forgoing the lettuce and the onions because he had taken out a loan from his neighbor, one Ms. Reubenstein, merely to pay for the dead dolphins.

He briefly entertained the notion of hopping on a plane to Japan and jumping bail, but realized there were (at least) three problems with his scheme: 1) he couldn't, first and foremost, afford a ticket on a Greyhound, let alone a transpacific flight; 2) he'd been terrified of flying ever since seeing Airplane! several years previously; and not last nor least, 3) he had seen what Dog the Bounty Hunter (and other Bounty Hunters such as the Fetts and Harrison Ford's character in Blade Runner) could and would gladly do to even the lowliest, meanest bail hurdler such as himself.

Dennis took a bite of his frankly disgusting sandwich and wondered if anyone was having as bad a day as he was.

Losing Touch

2009-01-11T22:43:00.004-07:00

School starts again tomorrow. Hooray. Maybe.

I'm taking slightly less hours. 17.5 or so instead of 19.5. It doesn't seem like that much of a difference, but one of those additional hours was marching band, which is really a five credit class masquerading as a one credit class.

I'll have a lot more free time, that's for sure. Free time that I need to use to practice...

I'm nervous for Wind Ensemble. I'm afraid that I'll have dropped a significant number of seats. in fact, that's probably the case.

I'm nervous for a lot of things. I'm also taking a creative writing class. I'm doing it because I want the feedback, but that's precisely what I'm terrified of.

I saw my friends from high school a grand total of one time over the break. I could swear I meant for it to be more than that. I guess we're just losing touch a lot faster than I thought it would happen. Hm.

Wow, me posting within three days of a post. That hasn't happened for a while. Maybe if I feel like it I'll be back in the next few days to update on the start of spring semester.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Shine

2009-01-08T21:57:00.004-07:00

It's the first post of 2009.

And there was much rejoicing.

Yay.

I've moved my other website, removing the clutter (i.e., bad stuff) in the process. It is currently here. Bookmark it since it's so awesome!

J/k it's not that awesome.

So, the marching band just got back from New Orleans, where our team destroyed Alabama, securing the Sugar Bowl trophy and a 13-0 season, the only undefeated team in the nation, with the longest winning streak in the nation and the longest bowl winning streak as well.

And somehow we didn't get invited to the championship and won't be ranked #1, and we're not automatically qualified for the BCS. Stupid BCS. Even Obama said so. That's right.

Also, the marching band has been invited to play in Obama's Inaugural Parade. We're accepting donations. In four days, we've raised $75,000, which is about half of what we need. Fun times.

Alright, I have nothing cool to say. So sayonara.

P.S.: We have a new addition to the blogosphere: my friend Melanie from the University of Utah's World-Famous Prestigious School of Music and Marching Utes. This is just the beginning of what is sure to be a long and awesomeerest blog career. With a ... small hiatus coming up soon. Haha.

P.P.S.: I'm awesome.

Song Without Music No. 1

2008-12-07T17:57:00.007-07:00

Song Without Music No. 1
Telephone wires are unreliable
My calls are not getting through
This plane just isn't flyable
Black box, you're tried and true

Hear all the destruction
Taste all of the regret
Fear my introduction
Give 'em hell that they won't forget

Folk tunes and heirlooms
And fighting just to stay alive
Darkrooms and sonic booms
No idea when we'll arrive

This is our production
Made of our blood and sweat
The results of my seduction
A thinly veiled fatal threat

Hoping against hope it's false
School days heavy on my mind
This becomes a deadly waltz
As the music box unwinds

Sound and Fury

2008-11-30T18:49:00.004-07:00

So, what's new in my life?

Well, marching band is pretty much over. We've got a bowl game and that's it.

That's sorta sad. I was getting used to spending a lot of time with those kids and now it looks like I might be spending a lot less time with them or none at all.

I'm torn about whether or not to do band next year, but leaning towards yes currently.

Um... I changed the way the blog looks, and the name. If you didn't catch that. I was going to change the URL, too, but couldn't think of anything cool enough or anything that wasn't taken already. fuzzypandas is silly, I mean... seriously. It's disappointing that two viable URLs I could've used are taken up by blogs that haven't been updated for six or seven years. You'd think that Blogger could do some maintenance and delete those and let the ones who actually care enough about them use those URLs. But no. Maybe I'll complain. Haha. Unlikely.

I do like the new name, though.

I'm sorta sad that the blogosphere has pretty much self-destructed. I think Chris's assessment is pretty correct... that we're all too depressed to post or something. That's sort of the case with me.

I don't like to write unless it's something happy, or something neutral. People seem to not like my bad mood posts, or even my pensive ones.

People seem not to read my blog lately. Haha. But that's okay. I only do this partly for the readers.

Okay, a lot, but just because people stop or read less doesn't mean I'll stop writing as long as I have things to say.

I'm eagerly awaiting the day when I'll have nothing more to say, as I'm sure some of you are, but until then, this blog will remain alive.

I'm nervous for my finals, especially the keyboard test. Also, the Spanish final project presentation is looming and we all know what a slacker I am. Haha. Whoo-hoo.

I'll get it done.

Wind ensemble is still lots of fun, and we even have a concert on Tuesday that should also be good. I've been meaning to send out an e-mail to all my out-of-town friends who can't make it to the concerts containing some recordings of the wind ensemble, if they're interested. Let me know if you are.

See? Signifying nothing. Or practically nothing. Hence the apt title.

Anyway, have a good last couple weeks of school everybody. Don't die. Or at least, try not to.

A continuation...

2008-11-19T00:23:00.005-07:00

The new day greeted Dennis with a slam and a bang. His head felt as if a demented Martha Stewart had opened it with an "antique" can opener from the 1950s (and when his brain was exposed, she'd exclaimed, "Oh, well, isn't that nice!") and proceeded to whip the contents of his head (currently, not too much--his seventh grade state report on Iowa, a wonderland of corn and, he was surprised to learn, soy beans; Robin Hood: Men in Tights, which he had viewed the night before the "heist" to strengthen his shoddy nerves--he thought it had something to do with taking from the rich and giving to the poor--that is, himself--an underrated American classic; and, he and Martha were startled to discover, the bank teller) into a delicious, yet far too fattening, soufflé.

He reached his left hand up to massage his temple, a futile yet somehow comforting action, and was a little taken aback to have his hand halted in its mission. He looked down to see who would dare restrain his hand from its sacred duty, all the while surmising that it was probably not a dragon, nor a griffin, but a pair of handcuffs.

He was correct.

Only now did he begin to take stock of his surroundings, which was ridiculous considering the fact that he'd woken up hours ago (it was more like seconds, but Martha's vigorous baking and beating had addled his sense of time), and the first thing that his eyes landed on was a sign on the side of a tank of some sort bearing the word, "INFLAMMABLE."

He spent a few minutes contemplating the absurdity of that word.

Finally, when he felt as if his soufflé were about to deflate, he turned away from the unbearably moronic sign and learned that he was in a hospital bed, and, in fact, surrounded by other patients in other hospital beds, as well as doctors and nurses and orderlies carrying clipboards and forms and stethoscops and running about, seeming very important.

He gathered that he was in a hospital.

One of the doctors separated from the herd and walked very importantly up to Dennis's bed.

"Boy, I'll tell you, she sure has one heck of an arm on her." After a moment of confusion, wondering how the doctor knew about Martha Stewart, Dennis realized the doctor was still talking.

"--by to see you."

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, here she is now."

A lady with a bandaged hand (her right) walked up next to the doctor at the foot of Dennis's bed. He wondered how she had hurt her hand so badly, and then realized that she had probably used it to bash some poor sucker's head in--and then realized that he was a poor sucker.

It was a devastating conclusion.

"Oh, well, you're not dead," she said with a sigh of relief. "With how much damage there was to my hand, it occurred to me that I might have to plead self-defense." She giggled.

(Later, he thought that was when it happened.)

"Well, I'm afraid you weren't in very much danger, Miss...?"

"Why not?"

"Squirt gun. And it wasn't even loaded."

"You son of a--" Her face was horridly contorted with anger for a moment, and then she burst out laughing. "A water gun? You tried to rob a... Oh, wait till I tell... You must be the worst bank robber ever!"

Dennis wince-smiled. "Guilty."

"Careful what you say." She leaned in. "Remember your Miranda rights."

(That was also a possibility.)

"Well, you're not dead, at least. Feel better. Don't rob any more banks for at least two weeks. Ciao."

Dennis was too stunned to reply until she was several feet away. "But I didn't get your name," he offered weakly.

She turned. "You tried to rob me and I didn't get yours. Which of us should be offended?" She winked and left the room.

Dennis Arnold Jackson was utterly and absurdly in love.

A beginning(?)

2008-11-03T21:58:00.008-07:00

Ms. Jennifer (Jenny to her friends) Jackson was bored. Like most of us, she hated her job, so, at her station, she sat, weary head in tired hands, daydreaming of her evening. After she rolled along home in her beat-up old junker, fed her cat, read the paper, listened and responded to the messages on her machine, went through all the mail and relived the daily disappointment of not receiving a single personal, handwritten letter, checked her e-mail, and read the paper, she would fix herself a sumptuous dinner consisting of a chef's salad, resplendent with all sorts of vegetables (the less exotic ones that she could afford on her bank teller's salary), cheese (bought at that new organic foods store down the street--her mother had always cursed the things as being hippies' dens, but Jenny found that the majority of the customers looked sane enough, so she had judged it safe), and ham, as well as a small dinner roll and a glass of water or tea, or, if the mood struck her, red wine. Then off to an almost unbearably hot bath, maybe an hour or two, and then a movie curled up on the couch with Dante (so named after her English professor in college had introduced her to the Purgatorio, a far more original work than either the Inferno or Paradiso, the far more commonly read parts of The Divine Comedy)--a movie where a knight in shining armor saves a damsel and the damsel swoons into his arms, unable to resist his dashingly charming (or is it charmingly dashing? she can never tell) good looks, and they live happily ever after and so on and so forth.

It was when her reverie had reached the part where she imagined finally falling asleep on her bed next to Dante that she realized there was a rather large, black, dangerous metallic object, that is to say, gun, being pointed at her face.

On the other side of the gun was a man. This man was named Dennis Arnold Jackson (Jackson is a very common surname). His friends called him Dennis. He wore no mask, no gloves, no threatening trenchcoat nor hat nor dark glasses--in fact, he wore a white dress shirt and tie, garishly decorated with a picture of a kitten toying with a ball of yarn, this pattern repeated over the tie, black slacks, a brown belt, white socks, and powder blue shoes. His fashion faux pas, however, made less of an impression on Jenny than did the gun in Dennis's left hand (he was a southpaw).

"Yes, can I help you?" said she, ever the consummate professional.

Utterly nonplused, the script ("All right, this is a robbery! *fire a few shots at the ceiling* Hands up, everybody! If you all cooperate, nobody will get hurt. Put all the money in the bag, no funny business, now," and so on) that Dennis had practiced at the mirror in his bathroom (after vomiting) mere minutes before flew out of his head like so much doggerel. Improvising never had been his strong suit.

"Uh, well, you see, I was wondering... You see, with the gun and all, I thought that would be... would be quite clear." Dennis began to sweat profusely, the flowers on the wallpaper behind Jenny swimming in his brain.

"So it's a robbery you'll be wanting? All the cash in the drawers, no silent alarms, no cops, no funny stuff, no heroics? Yes?" Jenny stared at him as if this was a standard withdrawal.

Dennis smiled, surprised and delighted to find that the teller was being so helpful. "Why, yes, that would be--"

Unconsciously, Dennis had started to like the teller and so had pointed his gun away from her, not wanting to inadvertently shoot a girl that he had come to respect. It was this that ultimately led to his downfall.

The short-lived attempted robbery of Dennis Arnold Jackson came to an end as Jennifer Jackson's fist landed across the side of his head, plunging Dennis's world into a sort of blinding white at first, and then black.

Life or Death

2008-10-29T17:17:00.003-06:00

So I got in a car accident today. It's probably the most exciting thing that's happened to me for a long time. And that's kinda sad.

It wasn't my fault, those of you who are quick to criticize...

But my car's trunk is basically caved in. And we won't find out whether it's considered "totaled" or not until tomorrow night. It shouldn't be, but...

My neck hurts.

It only lasted a few seconds, but... it was a pretty frightening few seconds.

If you really want to know the story, ask me over text or Facebook or something... I don't want to put it here.

Oh, and I missed my Spanish class (really important). Balls.

This has been just an awesome week.

"Wow, sarcasm... that's original."

Anyway. That's my exciting news. Later.

Impulse

2008-10-28T01:15:00.004-06:00

Impulse
I evoke a mood, a brooding
sort of thing. Ancient cultures
fascinate, repudiate, excoriate
us in our decadence. It's awfully
depressing. I think I'll ignore it.

A lilting waltz floats over a wall,
prompting an impromptu dance.
I take your hand and spin and spin
and spin and repeat and twirl and
trip and make a fool of myself and blush
and die inside.

Words touch, words breathe,
words vie for attention.
What do mine do to you?

My music is a force, a passion,
a crime in twenty states,
undeniably, irrevocably
pulling you in.

What's in a name? Mine
isn't for the telling, so
that should give you an indication of how powerful it is.

Playing games doesn't
an artist make.

Rain

2008-10-12T22:11:00.004-06:00

I like rain. Most of the time.

When I don't like rain:

When I'd rather be playing a game outside or something.
When it's making someone else feel bad.
Driving in it is sometimes scary. Or just aggravating.
When it's making me feel bad.
When it ruins something--paper, bags, projects, moments, etc...

Why I like rain:

The sound it makes on windows and sidewalks and trees.
The smell.
The grey of the sky. I have very light sensitive eyes. And I just like that color a lot.
The quiet that comes over the world.
Rain is cleansing. It's a revitalizing force, a necessary means to an end.
I like how it feels on my skin.
It makes me want to share a moment with someone.
It feels so... private. Safe. Secure.

The end.

Autumn

2008-10-10T23:58:00.004-06:00

I stay up far too late these days. But I like it.

1:30 is my average. I get up at 7. It's an adventure.

I'm kinda surprised that I haven't died yet. But I guess my will is strong enough.

Yes we can...

!

Autumn
Being alone never felt so together,
With you now in solitude.
Wishing things could move much faster,
Wishing this night would last forever.
Rain falls heedless, screaming to earth,
Assaulting us, but I protect you.
The grey seizes the sky
In minutes, and we're caught,
Surrounded, alone on this city street
Like a scene out of a movie,
Or a poem.
We're drenched already so
We take our time and it's much better this way,
Slow footsteps, dangerous words.
And even though you hate the rain
I don't think you mind so much.
I'll love it, and now, for both of us.
Summer's dead and heartache, too;
Autumn broke and it fixed us.

Pointless

2008-10-05T15:57:00.002-06:00

Hmm... so, it's Sunday.

That's cool, I guess.

I haven't posted for a while, and I feel kind of bad about that. But that's okay. I was really busy Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and since night is when I post, except for now, I guess, that kinda screwed me over.

Thursday... pretty much the best football game I've ever seen. We pulled out the win over Oregon state, getting 11 points in the last three minutes. It was awesome. My voice was gone Friday.

Good times.

Not much to add here, just that I'm feeling really good about life. Mostly. Haha. But I'm really happy. It's been a really good week.

So anyway, I'll talk to you all later. I apologize for the kind of inconsequential post. Haha. Lates.

Revolutions

2008-09-30T00:18:00.004-06:00

After last night's relatively straightforward, allegorical poem, I felt like writing something a little more abstract. This is the result. Oh, and read Not the Usual Caper if you haven't already. It's pretty enjoyable, I think. Thanks again to Jaron for that one. Here you go:

!

Revolutions
We're pinwheels scattered in the sky
Colliding at random, blown by winds
That come from forever.
This cycle repeats at regular intervals.
This same air has kissed the faces of
Antony and Cleopatra,
Pelleas and Melisande,
Othello and Desdemona,
Romeo and Juliet,
Couples of old, ill-starred at best--
We'll fare better than them.
This zephyr will know happier times--
We'll show it how good we are
For each other. Time heals most wounds.
Faith recovered by acts uncovered, laid bare.
Where can we go from here?
September wreaks havoc with my mind.

Pull away, spin apart and come back for more.
This cycle repeats at regular intervals.
The year seems far too long for four seasons;
It must only have been three this time.
Our prayers for a halt are unheeded--
Time recklessly barrels on.
Everything happens.
Don't say for a reason.
Even if it's true.
Truth sublimates into reason,
reason into truth.
This cycle repeats at regular intervals.

So many holes scored from the surface,
Pockmarks on the face yet unblemished, whole, beneath.
This ideal is hard to make real.
Pick up the pieces and tape it back to working order--
This cycle repeats at regular intervals.

Not the Usual Caper

2008-09-29T00:33:00.004-06:00

Not the Usual Caper
One stark figure, clad in black,
Villainess with kind intent,
Closes in for the attack,
Breaking in without consent.

Armored walls stand tall and fast,
Sentinels on high alert,
Seems impossible, unsurpassed,
Guarding treasure from further hurt.

Slow but sure the dark one climbs,
Obstacles no match at all,
Tasks she's done a thousand times;
Now she's walking down the hall.

Booby traps and snares await--
Disarmed without a second thought--
The path she takes is sure and straight,
To the finest treasure fought.

Red and pulsing, fearing much,
Pedestal-bound, chained up for keeping,
Pried away by her soft touch--
She can wake what once was sleeping.

My heart is stolen, nicked away
Not by force or tricks or ploy--
By looks and touch and smiles astray--
Unfettered now, and filled with joy.

Impromptu

2008-09-25T23:53:00.004-06:00

I skipped a day. Oops.

I'd just like to say that marching band is quite possibly the most hilarious organization it has ever been my privilege to be a part of. Fun times.

So, today kinda sucked. There was a pep rally that was waaaaaay too long and pointless and the marching band had to be there. Oh well, I guess.

Other than me being ridiculously tired, I'm feeling pretty good. Overall, I guess things could be a lot worse.

So, we've talked about this before, but I write poems in a very loosy-goosey style. Just pop open a text window, be it Blogger or Notepad or Word, and write away. No revisions and drafts, just in the moment things. Which is probably, you know, bad. But... I'm not a professional poet, so it's good enough for me, for now. So I just wrote this after a little inspiration. It's really simple, in kind of sonnet form, but not really very close at all, and kinda reminds me of Giesel. So... read away. Tell me what you think. Sweet dreams, peeps.

More Muscles
No words, no recitations
Only adding complications
No monologues or diatribes,
Insults, quips, or petty jibes

No gestures, no touches needed
Glances given, warnings heeded
No writing, no definitions
Parades, nor hired musicians

These things are not required, not by a mile;
All I need to see is your one, perfect smile.

Short but odd II

2008-09-23T00:25:00.003-06:00

So it's 12:30. Hmm. That sucks.

I need to start doing my homework like a week in advance when possible.

I need to stop quasi letting my bedtime be dictated by other people.

I need to stop... worrying about things.

Well, worrying about non-essential things.

I let myself go from happy to not so happy in pretty much one day. Who does that? I'll tell you: Bipolar people. Maybe I am bipolar. That would explain a lot of things. Or just depressed.

Okay, yeah, that's not true.

I think I'm much improved over how I was for most of last year. At least now when I get depressed, or feel that I might get depressed, I can either ignore it and do other things, or think really hard about good things and cheer myself up.

Most of the time.

I hate not having anything to write about. Hopefully that will change too.

Jaron and Rachel are coming back this weekend. And I get to hang out with them. Huzzah!

No, seriously, you have no idea how happy I am.

I need to make time to visit them, as well.

Oh, and Jaron, thanks for mentioning me on your video blog.

Sigh... one o'clock almost... This is stupid. Bedtime. Later.

Short but odd.

2008-09-20T23:15:00.003-06:00

I spent some time in my car today.

Not driving or anything. Just laying back and listening to Classical 89. Long story.

Today hasn't been that great of a day. Just being honest.

This weekend has sucked so far. I've stayed home both Friday and Saturday nights. How pathetic is that? I thought maybe once I got to college I'd actually have more of a social life, and it's turned out to be the exact opposite. Awesome.

And yet... suddenly I feel better. Okay, not suddenly, something good happened, but yeah. Hooray.

I really appreciate everyone who's been reading and leaving comments. It means a lot to me that this blog has an audience again. So thanks for that. There's lot I could write about right now, but I'm kinda tired. TTYL.

Death and Dating

2008-09-18T00:56:00.004-06:00

I'm digging the daily postage action. Now I know why other people do it.

(Mm-ts)

Don't worry, the item in parentheses is a marching band joke, and I don't think anybody in there reads this.

I told Melissa in a comment I left her that I'd say some of the things that the awesome new marching band director, Dr. Brian Sproul, has said in our rehearsals...

Regarding a jazz song... "Swing like a sack of dead babies!"

That's really the only one I can remember right now. The others are mostly just cool ways of putting musical concepts into words that actually make a lot of sense and fit. Mike (another clarinet kid who's pretty darned cool) has a list of them, maybe I'll copy them down one of these days.

(Whoa, serious deja vu--a long time ago I had a dream about me sitting on my bed, with a laptop and everything in the position that it was in, and it just clicked into place. And I didn't even know I'd be getting a Mac.)

So I was really worried before college started. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make any friends. You see, I couldn't really remember how I'd made the friends I'd had through high school. And I've always been muy introvertido, so I figured that it would be a long process of getting them to warm up to me.

Apparently I'm not as introverted as I thought. I've been making friends like nobody's business. Granted, they're all in the music department, but I think that's a pretty common aspect of college. You make friends with who you see a lot, and you see everybody in your department a whole lot. So I'm pretty optimistic on the friend outlook.

One interesting dynamic of college that's extremely different is dating. Junior high and high school are a highly specialized environment. You kind of get set up by your friends and have really long incubation periods for relationships, though that's definitely not always the case. College is a completely different animal. It's very "every man for himself." Not that I'm worrying about dating anyone right now. Not that I would date anyone from school (no offense, Melissa ;) )... for various reasons.

I'm basically just worrying about keeping my head above water as far as homework and my clarinet playing are going. And I'm not doing too well on the latter. I need to step it up a notch. Or several notches. Bam!

So I might've said this on here before, or to some of you individually, but I'm a very morbid person. I don't mean to be, it just sorta happens. I'll explain.

I think about death a lot. I'm not suicidal, I don't want to die by any means, but just vague wonderings like I said in the last post. But I do wonder what my friends and family would do if I were very ill/dying/died. And what they would say. Like tonight, after night orchestra, I was walking south along University Drive, or whatever the street that PMT and President's Circle and West Institute and the Stadium are all adjacent to is called, heading back to my car in the stadium lot. The sidewalk is pretty narrow, and I kinda like walking on the edge, next to all the traffic. So I was just walking, listening to Sibelius's Symphony No. 2, Mvt. 1, and idly wondered what would happen if one of those cars swerved and took me out. What would happen meaning, what would my friends do, think, feel, say. I realize this is really weird and I hope it doesn't make me a horrible person. I'd never do it (because I'd never have any way of finding out the answer to all those questions, haha), but it's an intriguing unsolvable problem.

So I hope you all enjoy reading these daily posts as much as I enjoy writing them. I feel like I'm a much happier person recently. Maybe you think otherwise. Haha. Tell me what you think.

Good grief, it's 1:40. I think this is the latest I've gone to bed since school started. And it's because of an essay. Well, I think I did a pretty good job, so it's all good. And tomorrow is going to be a good day. I'll see you later.

Put 'em up

2008-09-16T23:03:00.004-06:00

Sigh...

So, I think the last post was cathartic. I'm still not sure if I should've posted it, but I think Chris and anyone else who may have read it understood that I wasn't really criticizing them. At least, I hope.

Maybe I should clarify. Though I know that they have really busy lives and they're getting into the rhythm of college, I had hoped that they would pay some special attention to us. That didn't happen, and I don't really blame them. It's just that we're growing farther and farther apart. High school is over. I should've expected most of those relationships to just sever completely, as most of them have, but there were some I thought were strong enough to withstand that, and I guess maybe no matter how strong they are, they always wither.

That sounds a lot more depressing than I meant it to.

So I've been thinking a lot about destiny lately. Fate, if you will.

In my Honors class, we just finished reading Augustine's Confessions. His whole philosophy of fate is kinda interesting. He says that God knows who will and won't be saved before everything. That doesn't mean God has chosen who will get salvation, just that God knows who will choose to follow that path.

Now, I don't subscribe to this. Not just because I don't believe in the Christian faith, but because it doesn't seem that practical to me. If God is almighty, all-knowing, and knows who will be saved... why have any new souls come into this world at all? Kind of defeats the purpose of living if your soul's eternal salvation has already been determined. Just eliminate the middleman and send all the good souls to heaven and the bad souls straight to hell.

I think that our actions determine the outcome of our lives. In Eckankar, we believe that every soul will eventually learn the lessons it needs to learn to be good enough to become one with God again. Reincarnation makes the earth a training ground for us to gain that knowledge. In each life, you can choose to learn your lessons or not; the latter option requires that you come back for more lifetimes and learn those lessons. Most of us do a mixture of the two, and sometimes it takes many lifetimes to learn one lesson. There's no penalty for not learning your lessons unless you count time "wasted" repeating those lessons. But since time is a limitation of the physical plane, time doesn't matter to the soul.

Anyway, maybe that will clarify some of my beliefs for some people. There are still a whole lot of things I haven't talked about in Eckankar, but maybe I'll get there eventually.

I've also been thinking about myself as I relate to courage.

As in, do I have courage? What's the difference between being brave and having courage?

First, the second question. Bravery is stupidity or ignorance in the face of overwhelming odds or fear. Courage is being scared out of your mind but persisting anyway because you know it's the right thing to do. Though that's just for the purposes of this discussion, and for esoteric, intellectual uses of those terms. I probably use those terms interchangeably in everyday conversation, and if I've ever called you brave, I probably meant it.

Second, the first question. Do I have courage? Posting last night's post makes me think so. Other things I know I should do but don't do make me think not.

Also on my mind is death. I really wonder what it feels like. I know that's weird, but I'm just curious, I'm not going to kill myself or anyone else to find out. I also wonder when I'm going to die. I know there's practically no way to know that, but it's still an interesting topic of thought. If you believe in fate, there's no way to know when we're going to die. If you don't really believe too much in it, like me, then every single choice you make is a choice that could lead you to or away from death.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy these little nightly rants. I kinda do. Anyway, I think I should go to bed now. Sweet dreams.

Welcoming Committee

2008-09-15T22:58:00.005-06:00

So, I feel like writing again. I'm gonna try to keep updated on here for the people who care to read it, and for myself.

School is going better. I'm getting into more of a rhythm. Sure, I still have an Honors essay to write, but it shouldn't be too hard (thank you, Mrs. Parrish). I'll do it tomorrow.

I was really productive tonight. Practiced piano, did my musicianship homework, and all my online Spanish assignments, and it only took about an hour. I feel pretty good about myself.

I've been so busy that I haven't really made time for my friends. I need to remedy that.

As some of you may know, I went up to Logan last weekend. To visit friends, and because the marching band was playing at the game.

This is where I get really honest, even though I know that some of the people I'll be talking about will be reading this. Well, mostly just Chris. But I feel like something needs to be said.

I enjoyed seeing everybody again, but everything is completely different.

I don't mean just their lifestyles or anything, but I feel like they've all completely changed.

I was sorta expecting it to be like a Saturday night during high school, when we'd all just go chill at Chris's house, making jokes, playing video games, watching The Office (which Alan and I did some of), and generally enjoying each other's company. It wasn't like that at all.

Now, I know that this isn't totally their fault. They're busy college students, they have lives, they have responsibilities. But I felt (and Alan shared my opinion) that they (the guys, that is) for the most part neglected us. We were just kinda there.

We were treated as extra roommates--people you're gonna see a lot, people that have their own ways of getting around and entertaining themselves--as opposed to what we really are. Which is their friends who they'll see maybe five times before they leave for two years.

We're growing apart. I guess I just have to accept that fact. I just didn't think it would happen so quickly. I tried, or at least I felt like I did, but you've gotta try back.

So I didn't really like how I felt when I was up there, and I doubt I'll be going back much. I've carved out my own little niche down here, so I think I'll pack up all my belongings and move on in.

For those Utah State people who read this, I'd like you to know that not all of you made me feel that way. There were a couple of people who truly made me feel welcome, and for that I thank you.

So yeah, high school is totally dead now.

I mean, I guess it was the second people moved out. It just didn't really feel like it. But no, high school got buried under six feet of cement.

I need to learn to move on. In several areas of my life. Maybe that's what I'm supposed to get out of this experience.

The above wasn't meant to hurt anyone's feelings, it's merely a statement of mine. I don't expect you to change your habits, or your attitude, or anything. Just wanted you to know.

Well, anyway, I'm feeling tired. It's 12:07 AM, earlier than my usual. Of course, my texting buddy went to bed early, which is probably why. So I think I will, too.

ALL CAPS

2008-09-13T01:49:00.004-06:00

WHEN THE END OF THE WORLD COMES, IT WILL BE IN ALL CAPS.

I'M JUST TRYING TO PREPARE YOU FOR IT.

SINCE, YOU KNOW, IT'S IN LIKE TWO WEEKS.

!!!

SERIOUSLY, THOUGH. DOES IT FEEL LIKE I'M SHOUTING AT YOU? I HOPE IT DOES. BECAUSE I KINDA FEEL LIKE SHOUTING. OR RATHER, YELLING. YELLING AT SOMEBODY.

MOSTLY ME. HAHA.

!

Okay, I'm done. Sorry if that was annoying. It probably was. Oh well.

I say that a lot. "Oh well." I don't know why.

!

I feel really stupid lately. Like I've been forgetting things and saying things I didn't mean and not thinking things through.

!

I love these posts. They jump around and go all over the place. It just feels good. Natural. More like how my mind would sound if you could hear it.

!

Interesting idea. I kinda wish we had a little box we could hook up to our brains. Then this little box would translate our thoughts into words, hopefully using our voice, or something similar, and broadcast it through a little speaker. That way, you could vocalize those little transient thoughts that aren't completely formed, that are more like feelings or colors or something. Mine wouldn't make much sense. It would just be garbled nonsense, probably. Or just really, really weird.

!

So. Apparently people freak out when you change your relationship status on Facebook. I feel like messing with my friends and just getting some random girl to say they're in a relationship with me. Then just keeping the lie going. It won't happen, since I've said it here, but it'd be hilarious. Maybe.

!

In case you didn't know, the title of my previous post is a quote from a video called "Powerthirst." It's on YouTube. If you venture to watch it, know that it's hilarious, but only watch Powerthirst 1 and 2, not 3, and it has some swear words. "Preposterone!"

!

I'm feeling really scattered tonight.

Mentally and emotionally.

I'm all over the place.

Kinda like a ninja.

But not nearly as cool. Or attractive.

!

Do you actually like reading these posts? Or not? I don't know. Tell me. If you don't, maybe I'll cave into peer pressure and start composing more traditional style blogthings.

!

I'm writing this from Logan, by the way. On a not-so-blazing fast wireless connection.

!

Okay, I don't feel like talking anymore.

Bye.

400 babies!!!

2008-09-10T23:46:00.003-06:00

So. Here's something interesting.

As humans, when we look for entertainment, be it TV, books, music, people-watching, we always look for conflict. This is a point that's made in St. Augustine's Confessions. We, for some reason, can't get enough of conflict in our own life, so we seek it in our escape from our lives, as well. For this reason, we love to see people with romantic troubles in chick flicks, action heroes narrowly escaping death, etc. You get the picture.

You might think this is a random diversion, but it's not.

Turns out the only time I'm interesting on this blog is when I have something to complain about. It's when I get all philosophical/pessimistic, and usually when I'm creative (poetry-wise). So naturally, when I have nothing to complain about, naturally, I'm not as interesting.

! <-- (I'm bringing this back) So my readership has severely declined. I'm pretty sure it consists of ... what, like two people? Something like that. I'm also pretty sure that it's my fault. Not posting leads to people not checking your blog. So I guess we'll see if this can get people reading my blog again. ! Hmm... Maybe people stopped reading it because they were tired of just reading me complaining about my life. Which throws my previous theory out the sixtieth-story window, but oh well. So maybe this post will get you happy junkies back. ! So yeah, I'm doing pretty well. School's beginning to fall into a rhythm, though a pretty hectic rhythm. More like 7/8 as opposed to 4/4. With a lot of syncopation and ridiculously dissonant harmonies. But it sounds cool. I always feel behind, but that's okay. ! I'm really getting into Wind Ensemble. It's by far the best musical group I've ever had the privilege to be a part of. Everyone in there knows exactly what they're doing and they do it extraordinarily well. In rehearsal the other day, at the emotional climax of a slower song, it was so beautiful that I could feel my heart breaking and brought a(n unshed) tear to my eye. That is what music is about. That's why I love music so much and can't live without it.

Sigh... so good... The concert is Sept. 23 in Libby Gardner Concert Hall at 7:30 PM if anyone is interested. It's going to be phenomenal.

!

Speaking of music...

I don't know how many people I've told, but my ultimate goal in college is to get into the composition program at the University and then go on to do further study of composition after I get my bachelor's.

I'm fascinated by the process of composition. The task of eliciting emotions from listeners by baring your own soul is a daunting one, but one that I really want to undertake.

I've already tried my hand at it, in case you didn't know. I wrote a duet for two tenor saxophones that Tyrel and I performed at our fall jazz concert my senior year. I've written an easy piece for piano that has yet to be performed (by someone who can actually play piano). I've written a piece for clarinet solo, which I actually just "rediscovered" last night. I played through it and it actually sounds pretty cool. I'm working on a piece for saxophone quartet. I suppose I should write for me and some friends so I know that I'll actually have a chance to play it. Hmm... I think I'll transpose it for four clarinets...

Anyway, yes. Music entrances me. It is an endless source of rapture and inspiration. I really don't know how else to put it. It's what I want to do, it's what I want to be.

So call me a liberal fancy-pants artist if you want, I don't care, that's what I am. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

!

(Sorry to Jaron and Rachel and any other writers out there, including myself, for the following section.)

!

Music is the most powerful form of expression known to man.

Let me explain.

While poetry and books and movies may be fine, what came first? Music.

Man could sing before he could talk, at least talk in a language more sophisticated than "Unga-wunga."

So while a movie may be amazingly well-crafted, or a poem sparkle and leap off the page with its entwining rhythms and rhymes, music touches something deeper.

Music is primeval. Music is coded into our genes. Simple music, without words, can move most of us to tears.

The reason for me wanting to be a creator, not just performer, of music, is simple.

I want to tap into this primeval power. I want to make people feel things. I want to make them burn with passion, hate with fury, love with tenderness, cry in pain, laugh for joy, and make their hearts soar to higher heights than they've ever known.

That is the power of music, and it's a power I want to learn.

I think I have something to give to the world, and this is how I choose to let it out.

!

Thanks for reading my rant, friends. That is, those of you who read. I appreciate it. I sound like Chris, but, well, that's never a bad thing. Sweet dreams, friends. Take care.

Choose your own emotion

2008-08-30T21:44:00.005-06:00

To everybody who reads this: First, I suggest you scroll down and read the post from earlier today before you read this one. Second, I suggest that you don't read the poem posted below. You can if you really want to, but... well, for my friends, I would say that it's better if you don't. It's your life, though. Do whatever you want.

Dear Reader...

I’m a cartoon character,
my thinks contained in clouds
suspended in air
above my disproportionate head
and I swear I’m thinking so loud
that the words are in all caps and bold
and you can read them without the aid
of telepathy. But you don’t (or worse,
you respect my privacy), and my clouds
are the worse for wear.

Thoughts in cloud, speech in bubbles,
and bubbles that I wish I could pop
before they reach you but I left my needle
in a haystack somewhere.

Existing in frames, memory a stop-motion film
(but poorly done) that seems to stop on the
bad bits, the ones better left out. But I’m sure that
from your desk my antics are hilarious.

Dead-pan comedy that’s deadly serious—
a revolution without muskets seems
rather boring to me.

Constant rejection because it focuses you
away from your own. But how do you think
I feel about it?
Not that I have a say in it. That name in the corner does.

And all we can say is, “Please, sir, may I have some more?”
and take it like a man (no screaming or I’ll slit your throat)
and everything is coming up daisies.

"Band, atten-hut!"

2008-08-30T15:49:00.003-06:00

Geez. July 14... That's sad. As in, that was the last time I posted here.

I could give some excuses. Late July and August were kind of disappointing and depressing months for me. I can't exactly say why. I mean, I can, but it's one of those things I don't like to put on here, because I usually complain about stuff directly to my friends as opposed to on this blog where some unsuspecting person might stumble across it and think I was some stupid emo kid. Also, the last two weeks have been inordinately busy for me and I haven't had the time nor desire to write.

Yet today, literally my first day off in two weeks, I caught up with Chris and Jaron's blogs. And I felt pretty inadequate. I mean, I thought I was a pretty good blogger. I think I've lost my touch. I think I never had a touch. I never had many readers, even at the peak of my blogging frequency, and not very many comments. But oh well. I'll persevere even in the face of this hopeless task. Just like I do in other areas of my life. Haha.

So, let me explain why I've been so busy.

The week before school started on the 25th, I was in Marching Band Camp. It was every day from 8 AM to 4 PM. It was a lot of fun, and I've made new friends, but it was really tiring. And if that weren't enough, after camp every day, I had to play in the South Pacific shows that I was in the pit for, at 7:30. So I left every morning before seven, was home for about an hour, and then didn't get home again until eleven. It was kind of devastating to my well-being. But whatever.

The band's first performance was last Saturday. It was for Fanfest, which is just a preliminary party kinda thing at the Stadium to get fans excited for the upcoming football season. We performed twice just standing in the little plaza thing outside. In uniform. Minus the shakos (hat-things). I get a cool free marching band hat and t-shirt, along with some other item specifically for the clarinet section.

We know all of the pregame show, but it needs some more work. We know most of the first halftime show, and we'll finish it this next week, in preparation for the first game this Saturday, the 6th. I'm pretty excited, but also pretty nervous.

South Pacific was kinda lame. I like the music alright, but it's not as exciting as a lot of scores I'm used to. The play itself is really really outdated and just kinda lame in general, in my opinion. And there were tons of cuts and rewriting; they basically mutilated the show. Which is never a good thing to do to a show. But whatever, it was experience.

So now comes the big part: college.

Classes started Monday the 25th. I think music majors are highly underappreciated for the amount of work they have to do. I'm officially only taking something like 16.5 hours, but it sure feels like a lot more work. The only two generals I have are Spanish (four credit hours, two times a week), which is a hybrid class with a major online component; and Honors Intellectual Traditions (three credit hours, two times a week), a medieval and Dark Ages history class, but with a focus on reading literature and discussion--there's no textbook per se, just a bunch of classic literature to read and write about.

My music classes consist of: Music Theory I (three credit hours, three times a week), which is the usual fundamentals of tonal theory and practice; Musicianship I (one credit hour, two times a week), which is a focus on sight-singing and melodic and harmonic dictation; Keyboard I (one credit hour, two times a week), which is what it sounds like, just basic technique on playing piano; Concert Attendance (one-half credit hour, selected days), where I have to attend seven mandatory concerts, or convocations, and nine outside concerts; and private lessons, which are one hour a week but which require a "jury," where at the end of the semester, I have to play a piece I'll work on for the semester in front of a few faculty members, which is a lot of my grade.

That doesn't even count ensembles. The auditions were the last Friday before school started, during band camp. The University has only one wind group (like concert band) in fall semester, and that's the Wind Ensemble. There are two orchestras (strings, winds, and percussion): the Philharmonia, a top-tier group playing legitimate orchestral repertoire, that only music majors can be in; and the Symphonic Orchestra, a definitely less professional group playing legitimate yet easier orchestral repertoire that anyone from across campus can be in. My audition went very well. I'm principal (read: first) clarinet in the Symphonic Orchestra (one credit hour, one day a week), and, more importantly, second chair first clarinet in Wind Ensemble (two credit hours, three days a week). I was very shocked about my standing in Wind Ensemble... To give you an idea of where I stand in there, the first chair first clarinet is a graduate student and all the other clarinetists are sophomores or above. It's intimidating, to say the least. Oh, and there's marching band (one credit hour, five days a week).

Needless to say, if you looked at my parenthetical statistics, music majors have to take a lot of classes that offer very little credit hours and high workloads. It's a little... overwhelming. Considering all the other pressures I have on me, like normal life, hanging out with friends, dating (...), etc., I don't know if I'll survive the semester. You can (sort of) trust me to document my slow death here, so that should be interesting.

I don't feel like writing any more, but I'll leave my current state of affairs/emotion to your imagination.

"Utah, yeah!"

200

2008-07-14T23:21:00.005-06:00

How appropriate that this would be my 200th post.

As some of you may know, and as most of you don't know, for the past 8 days, from July 5 to yesterday, July 13, I was in Torrey, Utah, for the 2008 ECK Utah Youth Leadership Training Camp.

Now, I guess not all of you knew this, but I've been effectively the only ECK youth in Utah for as long as I can remember. For me, this camp was the only chance I've had in my life to really connect to kids my age who believe what I do.

It was amazing.

Now that I've experienced that, I miss it. I feel like I need it in my life. Which I think everyone does, whether they realize it or not. For most of my friends, they've taken it for granted their whole lives. There have always been people their age who shared their religion. Well, imagine not having that, if you can. It was really hard.

But now I feel... I think the only word for it is recharged. I feel spiritually rejuvenated. I feel like taking charge, taking responsibility.

I feel courageous, victorious, like there's nothing I can't do, to echo Chris's sentiment.

It's a good feeling.

I've reevaluated some priorities in my life; i.e., school, girls, money, etc., and I think there's good coming up.

There are going to be four ECKists on the University of Utah campus next year, which is a lot for Utah. We're going to do some work. You'll see.

I'm on the leadership team for next year's camp, so I'll be involved in the planning and things like that. It should be fun. I'll be really glad to reconnect with those people.

I also learned a lot musically; I was part of producing four songs, in some way or another, playing either keyboard and clarinet on all of those tracks. But the thing that I can't get my mind off of is this song.

It was written by the theater team, and they performed it live at the Gala on the last night, as did we with one of our songs. But the lyrics to that song are so inspirational, and a very accurate representation of how I'm feeling right now. I'm pushing my fears aside, getting closer to an answer... It's all coming together somehow.

Oh, and the sound you hear at the beginning of that song is what we call in Eckankar the HU chant. HU is an ancient name for God that we sing in Eckankar to bring us closer to the Light and Sound of God. It's sorta like praying, if you want to think of it that way, but that's a poor description for it. It can calm you down, focuse your energy, clear your head, get you closer to God. Anyone can sing it. Everyone should at least try it. It's pronounced "hyoo," if you didn't listen to the song, and you can sing it aloud or silently to yourself. It's a great technique that I use in my daily life frequently. I just thought I should clear that up.

I have a changed outlook on life. I'm endeavoring to do everything with love, and to follow my spiritual path more closely than I have been in the past. I'm revitalized, renewed.

It's amazing what one week can do for you.

How appropriated that this is my 200th post. A change in my outlook on life, a new beginning.

Thank you all for reading through all my complaints, good times, poems, stories, thoughts, and other things that have appeared on this site. You don't know how much it means to me.

Here's to another 200 posts, and to the future, and whichever path it may take us to our destinies.

Almost...

2008-06-18T23:53:00.001-06:00

Hmm. This is my 199th post. Just though you'd like to know that. It's taken me a long time to get here. A lot longer than most people. Especially longer than Jaron and Chris, who reached that in, what, a year? Haha. Good job, guys.

All the same, even with my infrequent posts and the often bipolar results thereof, this blog is a sizable part of my life. I enjoy writing for it, rereading older digressions, and seeing your comments. I'd say I should be saving this for the 200th post, but I don't even know if you'll be seeing anything special for that one, whenever it may come. I don't know how much stock I put into anniversaries and things like that. I hardly ever do anything very special for my birthday, or anything. It's cool that other people do, I just don't because I don't like making a big fuss about me.

You'd think that in summer, I could find some extra time to write for the ol' weblog, but ... well, I guess I don't really have an excuse. It seems like a lot of my friends are bored, or just working all the time. So maybe I should write more frequently, keep the crowd entertained. Or distracted.

So, what's new? Well. Nothing really.

Hmm. I don't have as much to say as I thought. So I guess this will have to wait for another day.

!

Well, now it's... oh, geez, three days later.

Dang.

Shoot, brb, gotta take out the trash.

!

Sigh... I'm this [ ] close to losing my faith in humanity. Seriously.

Sorry, things happened while I was outside that contributed, but seriously, reading the news is enough to make you wanna be the Antichrist just to get everything started already.

By the way, I saw "The Omen." I can see why it was scary in like the '70s, but it's sure not anymore. Oh, no, evil kid. They both die? Meh. It just doesn't resonate. Although, the nanny hanging herself was pretty dang freaky. Though I guess you'd have to see it to know what I'm talking about. Haha. Anyway...

What else? I recently saw "Kung Fu Panda." Twice. It's pretty funny. I quite enjoyed it. Jack Black is ... almost ... always funny. I enjoyed the cameo by Jackie Chan. The others were... meh. Dustin Hoffman's voice is actually really awesome. Kinda makes me want to see what he's done. Oh. Captain Hook. And Rain Man. Haha. Cool. Same for Ian McShane.

!

I just created a Facebook account. I actually kind of hate doing things like that. Conforming. Haha. A lot of my friends have one, and that seemed like a good reason not to get one.

That's a small reason why I got a blog. Because not very many of my friends had one. Wait. No it's not. I didn't have very many friends back then. It was because of Chris. I wanted to get one because he had one. And because I was/am an emo kid.

Hooray!

!

I got some new music today. The Receiving End of Sirens, The Fratellis second album, Sweeney Todd 2005 revival cast recording, and Coldplay's new album. I'm pretty excited for it. Haven't had a chance to listen to all of them yet, but yeah, it should be good.

!

Sigh. This is the part of the blog where you would hear the whiney crap. If I felt like writing it. Again. How many times have I said the same things over and over and over?

Yeah, well, you know the drill. My life sucks, this is why, etc., etc. The end. Fill in the blanks for yourself, you probably already know because I've probably already complained to you. Haha.

!

Wow. I ramble. Like crazy. Kinda funny, I guess. But... could alienate people. Haha. I think it already has. My readership has decreased from what it was a year ago or so. But that's okay, I guess. I don't deserve it as much as I did then. Haha.

!

Hmm.... running out of things to say. Fast.

!

Yeah. I'm done. My bad, guys. Later. Sorry for the waste of postage. Haha. Just biding my time until the 200th, I guess.

Counterfeit a-splosion

2008-06-08T21:01:00.005-06:00

Maybe I was inspired by Jaron, maybe not. But I kinda doubt it. It's a combination of a few things. By the way, mucho kudos to Jaron for winning the Sonnet Battle by two. I owe him a poetry book of his choosing, that's not too expensive.

Anyway. Here's my more minor creative a-splosion.

Assassin
There’s a hitman in my heart
and he says I sent him
but that can’t be true.
It’s a mistake, isn’t it?
Tell him it’s not true.
I don’t want you to leave,
you see.
Nobody does.
Brain loves you for your charm,
he can’t get enough of your jokes
and of course, the practicality of our
compatibility.
Hands are united in this, at least,
that they’ll miss your luxuriousness,
and showing off for you.
Eyes will miss holding you in them for
such long periods of time.
(The hitman asks again, “Now?” but
I protest.
He’s adamant but I think
I can hold him off a while longer.)
Lips are pouting; they’ve only just
begun to get to know you.
Stomach is doing somersaults
to relieve some of the stress.
Throat won’t let anyone talk to him,
he’s all closed up in his room.
Nose will miss your sweet
smells that you tried so hard
to pick out in stores.
Heart is all torn up about it.
Now the gun is loaded,
you’re in his sights—

—but no.
I can’t do that to me.
I guess it’s some more torture
then, without you.
Oops—he
shot me instead.
Maybe this
is preferable.
(At least it
wasn’t you.)

Crime Scene
The sun is bleeding
and nobody can seem to
staunch the wound.
But we don’t mind.
We sit on the grass
in the slowly emptying ballpark
as the parents and the kids
and our friends leave,
talking while he slowly
empties his life out into the sky.
And when he's dead, and his
murderer stands victorious,
glowing with the light of his
victim's gore, still we're there,
our hands entwined while
we lay on our backs,
staring in marvels as the moon
gets away with it. His
accomplices, the stars,
are thrown into sharp relief—
As we throw our hands up
towards them, we're pricked
by their powerful light.
So we repose, nursing our
wounds, falling deeper and
deeper into this hole we've
dug ourselves, that people
call love. Poets have lamented
it, poets have cherished it, deified
it, excoriated it, but we have it.
And we rejoiced, as the killer
rejoiced in his kill. Our thrill exceeded
the chill of the night, but still
we waited till the dawn,
the resurrection, to go back home.

Sonnets 17 and 18

2008-05-22T20:33:00.003-06:00

Good crap, Jaron's up to 21? I thought he was still at 17. Obviously, I can't really win. At all.

Maybe I'll give it the old college try. Of course, I did that when I was applying to colleges, and, ironically, got rejected from 80% of the colleges I applied to. That's a nice way of saying 4 out of 5.

Sigh... I haven't been inspired to write sonnets lately, since it is inherently a love poem. I guess you could say I'm disenchanted. That's why I've fallen behind. Also, I don't think my poems are that great. Haha. They're good, but not great. And I really like doing great things. But when have I ever done things great consistently? I do good enough for the A, for the 4.0, for the pat on the back, but nothing that'll get me the trophy, the girl, the future. Hmm.

Those of you with more delicate mannerisms and consciences and tastes shouldn't read the following poem. I've been reading a book of American Poetry, from the Beat era, and it's made my language a little more salty, but a little more appropriate to the feel of the poem. (bitter, sarcastic, weary)

Sonnet 17
I practice my poems with a bad accent,
a reach for that American appeal.
I contemplate rhythms and rhymes that feel
sublime, but nothing really, no content.
A malcontent, intent on breeding this,
was sent by heart (it's faster than first class),
and strewn about the room is my first kiss
(the story of which would knock you on your ass).
It's busted, there's no doubt, no fixing it,
But who would want to anyway? It's past,
And past is past, no lasting fate; it's writ.
So I'm condemned to always come in last,
it seems. But no matter; here comes a knock
on my poor door; you want back in? ... Let's walk.

Sonnet 18
"Try, try again," they say. Well, then, why not?
I brush the dust off (how it clings to me)
and stand; I have no ties, no lies, no plot,
no shot; give it a go. To a degree,
I want to sleep some more. (Liberation's
a good feeling, eh? when you can swing it.)
I wing it, and give in to temptation;
for all my charm and wit, I must admit,
you'll do better, consistently, and well.
I've seen the other fish, and they're a prize.
I fight, and curse, and spit, and I rebel,
but I can't hold a candle to those guys.
Above all other things, it's this I know:
A life alone goes by so very slow.

[Synonym for bewildered]

2008-04-20T16:46:00.005-06:00

Tour is now officially over. Unless something ridiculous happens in college, or the marching band does a lot more stuff than I thought they did, it's my last one. It's definitely my last high school traditional band tour. I enjoyed it... but I didn't have as much fun as I have in past years, nor as much fun as I wanted to.

This trip was supposed to be all about getting away from my stress, focusing on having fun, and just being with people. Unfortunately, I couldn't escape all my stress, and that made me not focus on having fun all the time, and frankly, sometimes the people got on my nerves.

Near the end, what usually happens on tour happened again. We all eventually just get pretty fed up with each other and don't talk or get kinda mad. I was glad that it ended when it did, so that we weren't stuck with each other being pissy for even more time.

Regardless, I had a lot of fun. I'll remember the good parts about tour, and not focus on the bad times, which weren't really that bad for me. I just need to learn to get my mind off things that are bothering me.

I'm really glad that tour is an option at our school. I know a lot of schools don't, but I'm thankful that we have that opportunity. And it's a pretty awesome thing, if you think about it.

!

I feel so guilty. I hate causing people problems. Even if they're causing me problems too.

!

I haven't felt inspired recently. It's a weird feeling. I don't like it. I think I'm dwelling on things too much instead of focusing it into a creative energy. I need to change that.

!

I practiced for about an hour and a half tonight. Though it wasn't practicing so much as unfocused playing. Which is the best I could manage after pretty much a week of not practicing. I'm going to practice for reals tomorrow. It'll be awesome.

!

I really like the exclamation points as breaks. It feels... right.

!

Speaking of factorials, I'm so not excited for BC. It sucks. It's not even fun. I figure if I ace the AB part that'll be good enough. But I probably won't even get a 5 on that. But I'm hoping for a 4.

!

Riverton orchestra ruins my social life a lot of the time. I'm pretty sure I'm done after this stupid concert. Practically nobody in that orchestra knows what they're doing most of the time. I hope none of them read this. There are like ten people who are pretty good and who I respect, but... other than that... yeah.

!

I'm listening to a piece from one or two years ago by Steve Reich, entitled "Daniel Variations." The text is from both the Book of Daniel and Jewish-American journalist Daniel Pearl, killed in Pakistan by terrorists. It's a highly minimalist work. I won't explain that here, but a detailed explanation can be found here. Pearl said a very interesting thing. A friend of his asked him what his thoughts were on the afterlife and he said he didn't know... but then he said, "I sure hope Gabriel likes my music."

I don't exactly believe in Gabriel. But I do hope that what I'm doing with my music is making a positive difference in the world. I hope it's spiritually sound. Though I don't think that art can be spiritually unsound, unless it's used for malevolent purposes. And I can't think of many art forms that are used for those kinds of purposes.

Sorry for the ramble.

!

I just got a lot of new music. Debussy, Scriabin, Reich, Cute Is What We Aim For, Playradioplay!, some older Death Cab, and Vampire Weekend.

I love indie music. Weird stuff. It's so good.

!

(8) Drama doesn't follow me, it rides on my back
I may be ugly, but they sure [don't] love to stare (8)

Lyrics from "There's a Class For This" by Cute Is What We Aim For, with a little addition to make it fit me more.

!

In close, I can only give you this. I think it somewhat adequately represents my feelings sometimes.

Or not?

Whatever. Haha.

!

Peace out.

Sonnet 16

2008-04-05T21:16:00.003-06:00

I don't know how Jaron usually does this, but I usually write my sonnets directly into this little window, straight into the blog. However, four or five or maybe six of them have their genesis on paper. Including this one. Which was written into a notebook while I was sitting on my bathroom floor. I promise that's not as weird as it sounds.

Sonnet 16
I sing a song with harmonies and lies;
to hear it is to love me (and my hand).
I sing a song of street corners, streetlights
flicker above our heads (light-halos band).
I sing a song for dying minds; no way
out; no resolutions, benedictions.
I sing a song for the children at play,
and their subtleties at playing fictions.
I sing for all the frustrated lovers.
I sing for all the people that I've hurt.
I sing for all the unwed mothers.
(I sing because it could be so much worse.)
I sing a song, written in silence now.
I sing a song and yet I don't know how...

Dreams

2008-04-02T21:03:00.003-06:00

I love this song. This kid is so ridiculously fantastic. Listen to his other stuff, it's good. Thanks to M. We. for pointing me his way a while ago. I think he'll most likely go places.

!

Going places. That's an interesting concept, isn't it? Wouldn't we all like to go places? Preferably with upward motion. We all want to get somewhere in life.

Chris's (yes, that's the correct possessive form) decision to pursue business/marketing instead of MAE makes me happy. I've been telling him for a couple of years now that he should be a businessman. And now he probably will be. I'm excited for him. I know you're probably reading this anyway, but hey, I'm gonna watch for you in the Wall Street Journal, boy.

I want to go places. I want to see the world. I want to settle in one place eventually, though. But I want to go places within that place. I want to be famous. I want to be successful. I want to fall in love at some point and never look back.

I really think there might be something to this composition thing. I just finished a short little song for piano. I want someone to play it like I wrote it, not ridiculously slow because they're uncertain (and it's actually kinda hard), but like I wanted it. Haha. I want someone to play it so that I can say, "I wrote that," and not feel like a doofus.

I wish I could play piano better. I need to take lessons soon. I have to for my music degree, but I think I'll start over the summer, get a jump start on things.

But anyway. I really like this piece. It's a little quirky, some weird things with the key signature, etc. I also can't stand traditionalists. People who think that the only good classical music ever written was written before 1920. I love innovation, I love new things, I love new music. I recently made M. We. a mix of my favorites, and that just scratched the surface. Modern composers cannot be afraid to try new things, and modern classical musicians cannot be afraid to play new works. Unfortunately, modern classical audiences are afraid to hear new works. It can be intimidating because it is different from what they're used to hearing. Although I suppose none of what I'm saying even matters because I only know one or two people who listen to classical music for pleasure, and classical music is quickly becoming a lost art.

!

That's a depressing thought. The field that I want to make my living in may be obsolete in twenty years.

Hope it's not, but that's kinda what it looks like.

!

Sigh... anyway. Lately, it seems like I'm the only one who's not deathly sick of school. Everyone seems ready to just leave. I mean, I am too, but I'm sick of the people, not the classes. No offense to everyone out there reading this. Teenagers are kinda dumb, and they create way too much drama that doesn't need to be there. Maybe tour will help things out, kind of refresh our batteries. Or maybe it'll drain them. I don't know.

!

I want everything to be okay.

It hasn't felt like everything's been okay for the longest time. Everything's always been wrong in some way. Too much stress, too little stress, too much worrying, too little worrying... and on and on and on.

I want everything to be okay.

!

And somehow I think everything will. Eventually. We've just gotta ride this one out.

!

I feel like Homer Wells, kinda. Conflicted, yet strangely not conflicted.

Read The Cider House Rules, it's really good. Actually, that's probably a bad idea. A lot of you might be too [something]. It's about abortion. So yeah, maybe you shouldn't read it.

!

Haha. I think that's the first time I've censored my blog. But I don't want to make anybody mad. Substitute any nice word you want for that [something].

!

This has been an odd post. Somewhere in there, I started and subsequently deleted the first four lines of a sonnet. It wasn't good anyway, you didn't miss much.

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I'm just learning this year that people are intimidated by me. I find my self pretty non-intimidating. Sorta like a turtle. "Hey, look at the turtle. If I wanted to, I could totally kick it's trash." Like that.

I don't think of myself as presenting an obstacle for anyone. I'm smart, sure, but no smarter than a lot of guys and girls I know that are really intelligent. I'm one of many. I don't know why I've been singled out by people. I'm not saying I'm the only intimidating person around, because I know people are intimidated by Chris (heck, I am), but I know that a lot of people have told me that I'm intimidating this year. It's weird.

I'm pretty harmless, if you look at it. You shouldn't ever judge yourself by someone else's standard. That's why the bell curve is ridiculous, and why you shouldn't think you suck because you don't do as well as me, or Chris, or someone of equivalent talents in any field. You're always better than someone at something. There are a LOT of people who are better than me at things in school, and I'm better than them at certain other things. So it's a balancing out. You can't be good at everything. I know I'm not. Neither is Chris, and I think he'd be the first to admit that (correct me if I'm wrong here).

In short, don't be intimidated by someone who's better than you, because you won't be doing yourself justice if you are.

!

One thing I meant to mention earlier is the future, mainly college.

I applied to five colleges total: the University of Southern California, Northwestern University, Indiana University, the Eastman School of Music, and the University of Utah.

I got accepted to a whopping three out of five: the U, USC, and Indiana.

Indiana gave me an $8,000 academic scholarship, USC nothing (as far as I know), and the U gave me $3000 for the music school (To get $1000 of it, I have to be in the marching band. Haha...).

I flew to LA twice in as many weeks, to audition for Eastman and USC; I flew to Chicago a few weeks later to audition for Northwestern; the week after it was Indiana. I didn't get accepted to any other music school at any university besides the U. I didn't get accepted academically to Northwestern either.

I got my last two rejection letters the other day. So it's definitely the U for me.

So you can imagine how depressed I was. And probably still am, somewhere. Now I just feel like I wasted a lot of my parents' money by even applying to any of these places.

There were a LOT of reasons that I wanted to leave Utah for college. And for now that's not an option. So I guess I gotta just accept it.

But now this leaves me with an interesting future couple of years. I'll be pretty close to several friends who are going to either the U or SLCC, and I'll be not too far away from everyone else. I was expecting to be at least a 10 hour drive away from all my old friends. And now I'll be less than an hour away from pretty much everyone I know. It's weird.

But it'll be fun seeing everyone once in a while, as well as making new friends at the U.

One thing I'm really excited for is the music groups at the U. In college, music's a whole different ball game. The people in those music classes actually care. Too many kids in high school are just in it for an easy A, or because they're always in band, not because they actually care about the music or the performance. They'll practice, they'll be dedicated. I'm pretty excited about that.

I've always been really excited to take college level courses. The professors REALLY really know their stuff, and they're REALLY really in love with it, for the most part, and I'm excited to learn from people who are passionate about what they do. I can name a medium-sized handful of teachers in my education career that have been truly passionate about their jobs. I'm hoping that college professors all will be. But who knows? I don't. But I'm still excited.

!

Well, this post has become far too ranty for my tastes. It's become so large that it's slightly unwieldy, kinda like my head (literal size, not ego). I think I'll stop it short. Sorry if parts of it were depressing, or far too long for your tastes, or whatever. It was pretty much a stream-of-consciousness night, and I dig those nights when they're appropriate. April 2nd, I dug you. Peace, everyone. Sweet dreams, day or night.

Silly little thing

2008-03-24T23:18:00.005-06:00

Falling Off the World
You know, I can't remember the last time
Something went right that I tried to do.
Because I tried it and you sent it right back,
Ten times harder and filled with fury.
I think this love has faded; I know yours has
Disappeared. Where did you go? Why did you
Stop? How am I supposed to compete with
All those men out there who have your
Attention?

It's a bum rap, and I won't beat it this time.
I'm shuffling off, tail 'tween legs, noose 'round neck.
You've beaten me, O lovey-love of mine,
And I'll not come round your block again.
I see this is what I get, and no thanks at all,
For falling in love with the world.

!

A silly little thing, isn't it? I don't quite understand it myself. Imagine a man, falling in love with the world, then getting dumped by the world. But perhaps that happens more often than we'd like to think...

Sonnet 15

2008-03-23T23:17:00.005-06:00

We put some Death Cab on and just sat down.
It left me feeling as if nothing here
Could matter more than this, our here and now.
We sit on my couch and we sit so near;
My heart beats all the faster with desire
To touch and not to touch; to seek and win
A foothold in your heart. I grow so tired
Of never knowing. I glance t'you, chagrined,
And say a platitude or four, in vain;
We knew our night was through when we first sat.
And later, on your step, I wrack my brain
For any move that won't make me fall flat.
I try to make my move, but by the time
I'm brave, you're gone and I'm without a rhyme.

!

Haha. Story of my life.

Begin transmission

2008-03-22T23:13:00.003-06:00

Wow. It's been a really long time since I've posted. March 9? Hmm. Comment levels on this blog seem to have declined as my post frequency declines. Or vice versa. Haha.

Hmm. I said earlier to Marissa that I haven't posted because I haven't had anything to complain about. To me, it seems like most of the posts on this blog are me complaining about something. Haha. So if I don't have anything to complain about, nothing gets posted. That's my reasoning. Maybe I'm wrong. Probably I'm right.

So I didn't get into the school of music at USC or at Indiana. Did get in to the U. Obviously. Haha. I don't have high hopes for Eastman, and I don't even want to go to Northwestern. I didn't like the feeling of the campus. Can't even explain it. Just not good.

So yeah. Looks like I'll be staying in town. There are a lot of positives and a lot of negatives. Oh well. I guess we'll see what happens.

I need to write something. Haha. I've been slacking off. Oh well.

So yeah. This post is kind of pointless. But I'm watching I Am Legend. Fun stuff. Kinda scary. Because it could actually happen. Haha. Just finished reading No Country For Old Men. One of my favorite books now. Haha.

Wow, my sentences are really weird. I don't think I'm back in the hang of my blogging mindset. It's very specific and very unique. Fine-tuned, you might say. I'll need to get that back.

Anyway. End transmission.

Revised

2008-03-09T19:05:00.001-06:00

I realized (with a little help from Ms. Parrish...) that they're not really sonnets unless they rhyme. "You're not better than centuries of poets before you! Adolescent hubris!" and whatnot. Yeah, probably. So, I'm fixing them, or starting to, or whatever. So. I'll get there eventually.

Sonnet 1
I, a lonely birch, perched beneath the moon;
Thee, the dark-feathered sparrow on my branch
Doth twitter a pretty lamenting tune.
My trunk swells at the sound, and I do blanche,
My soul with glories that you doth impart.
My canopy-rustlings would fain augment
The wondrous strange song that bejailed my heart.
And in a magnificence, we two lament,
Join as one, and in seconds, part once more.
Thine own song lifts me, no longer with weight--
Zephyr, wafting the breeze that I unstore;
Nightingale, singing the pines to dream-state;
Alexander, a conquering machine;
Myself, more than I have before this been.

!

Sonnet 6
The mountains peek through the smog-laden clouds
Like illegible noodles in children's
Alphabet Soup. So my thoughts run aloud,
Far and whee, prosaic and forbidden
And prosaic, anything to impress.
A dervish, a gypsy, a sultan, hark!
An opera of mice; but I digress
I scurry to show you, look, dear, how smart
I am, and clever, and witty, and dull
And look, I wrote your sonnet, a lament,
On a cocktail napkin, all in pencil
Free to erase or read to your content
Don't you get it? Why can't we all agree?
Why a sonnet? Who knows? Who cares? Not me.

Sonnet 7
Our glassy eyes, shining white in the night.
This bated breath, which we are withholding.
Your soul, glowing bright blue in the moonlight.
Our hands, mingled, grasping, sensing, folding—
We struggle to retain our minds, our lives
Caught up in one another, o’erseeing
Deficiencies, mistakes, the little knives.
Stars hold our heads in, keeping us being,
Though we would fly to what we know not of.
Baited hooks, dangling just out of our clutch.
Tortuous delights, keeping us in love.
No matter, pay no mind, see not much.
We’re here, you and I, alone together,
Bathed in holy flame, sealed in forever.

Sonnet 8
We're worlds apart; I want to meet halfway.
"It's all or nothing, we must meet here, dear."
Yet to leave is to leave my soul, to stray
From everything I hold, my dear heart, near
(Excepting you), and to change what I grew,
And know, believe, and have faith forever.
I know this place, and its feeling of blue,
Calming and healing, leaving me never.
And yet you complete and teach and impart,
A burning red flame in a cold dark sky,
A star by which to guide my sails and heart.
My one, my true, my love, my blue, my high...
For you I would travel the stars, my whole,
A thousand deaths; but I won't pay my soul.

Sonnet 9
This walk with you has lasted for long years.
We have wandered but I do not know where...
Everyone's going someplace there or here.
(We are all alone in the rain-rich air.)
Far away from those other ones we see.
We find ourselves lost in a sea of mine.
We hear the music in our heads (don't we?).
(A dance floor appears and) We waltz entwined.
My forehead is clammy and tinged with red.
You lean in a whisper reaches my ear.
(Dance floor is gone) It's you and me (O dread!).
Your lips entice invite and volunteer...
The earth cries out at us screaming to kiss.
We fly away and we stay there in bliss.

Sonnet 10
I'm done with love. The price is much too high.
I'm through with holding your hand in the dark,
With a long kiss on the cheek for good-byes,
With being happy sitting in the park.
No moonlit drives, or long ignorant days.
No inside jokes or knowing how I want
To live out my week, or when you need praise.
No more bragging to my friends; nonchalant
And counting your smiles; city strolls in love
Picking you snapdragons (you hate roses).
No more seeing shapes in the clouds above
As grass tickles our necks; that door closes.
No more looking for it only to find
That days with love are better left behind.

Sonnet 11
Defiant, we burst our bubbles in win-
ter, years spent in transit, the sand weeps for
the camel. Rivets and riveters grin
beneath us and before us. Teeth clenched, roar,
we run for the hills, grinning with the strain.
Latches lock lightly, spinning us out of
orbit. The sun becomes a hurricane,
and our levees break. There is no more love
to speak of. We like it just fine here in
oblivion. Fires thirst and writhe in glee.
Nightmares besiege and angels reprieve sin.
Saddle up and ride for the light at the
end of the tunnel. No lies, barrier
All set up. The more is the merrier...

The Drifter and the Pretty Girl

2008-02-27T22:13:00.003-07:00

I sat at the corner, singing my song,
Wide-brimmed hat prepared to fill,
When I saw a girl walking along.
Pretty, she was, admiring my skill--
I imagine that she took my song
On her merry way up the high hill.

And the next day, who did I see?
None but that same pretty thing,
And this time she stared at me
For awhile, watching me sing...
But not hearing, though my sea
Shanty held a fine melodic string.

She had me perplexed, a state
Drifters do not occupy much.
We know much about our fate,
And life and girls and things and such.
And so this girl was a curious bait,
As I watched the girls double dutch.

One day as I sat at my daily rest,
The pretty girl approached me slowly
"You sir, among urchins are blessed,
Your talent is approaching the holy.
And so, hearing this, now I kindly request:
Will you follow and trust me wholly?"

I wondered for a long moment, and then
I stood. "I wonder," said I to the lass,
"Whether you trust me as all men?
And if't should come, indeed, to pass
That I follow you as a chick to its hen,
Shall we come to rest at the last?"

"Good fellow," replied the same,
"I promise thee no harm today,
And now I tell you my aim.
My mother to sick has gone prey
And so if to sing to her you came
As she died, I'd your woes allay."

A shocked stare met her glance
Finally, said I, "I'll do so gladly."
She perked up at her great good chance,
And led me up the hill quite madly.
We came to the room in mid-dance,
And the girl now looked quite sadly.

"Now, on, play drifter, honorable sir,
And I'll give you all that I said.
Go and cheer her up, monsieur,
Awhile before she is dead."
And the girl left me with a stir,
By her wheezing matron's bed.

I stared at her pale cold face,
And tuned up my guitar real well.
I sung her a song about a place
Where the seas gently swell,
Everything's at a slower pace,
And she's under my spell.

Her eyes slowly turn my way
And a smile crosses her lips
As I sing about the bouquet
Of flowers on the front of the ship
As it navigates the light spray
On its well-meant short trip.

Somewhere in there she died.
I left when my song was done.
The girl met me, having cried.
She held out her hand, but I took none.
Service gladly done, I set my stride
And walked out into the sun.

Sonnet 14

2008-02-25T22:13:00.003-07:00

I don't know if anyone besides Marissa will get all of the song references. But there they are. Hooray!

!

Sonnet 14
We two souls wade through the mass, romantic
Notions aside. Nobody knows us there,
Where street meets gutter. Our crass, pedantic
Views of life inform our bodies, our hair
Standing on end. As I rise to meet dawn,
We both go down together. The new year
Smiles at us before the feast. On the lawn
In days gone by, we lay ear by sweet ear,
Wonderful pleasantries caressing me.
I waken to find you, the day is dead.
You've stolen again from our reverie.
The clocks read four. Is this love? You're in bed,
My hand's on the phone, but I stop halfway,
Searching my head for anything to say.

Things I Love That You Might Not Know I Love

2008-02-24T19:48:00.005-07:00

Rainy days
Daring to do something different
Procrastination
Adrenaline rushes at 1 in the morning
Staying up late because you're in a fantastic conversation and you don't want to stop
Talking about my problems
Contemplating on "what if"s
Concept films, albums, books... etc.
Visions
The moment when you're alone in the dark in the rain and you breathe in and everything seems amazing and unbelievable

"Four thousand six hundred twelve!!"

2008-02-18T01:58:00.001-07:00

Can you believe I've been on her for two years and four months and have less than two hundred posts? Jaron cleared that in a little more than a year. Thatcher's been past three hundred for some time now. I don't know if that's pathetic or not. Hmm.

At any rate, this is one post to maybe boost that count up. Or whatever. I don't know.

!

I liked the !. It's a good break. It's kind of... exciting. Like, "That was cool! Now check this out!" Or maybe just kind of ironic. "That sucked, maybe this will be better."

!

I really don't understand myself. I like to think that most people have a pretty good grasp on their situations and their lives. I'm just kind of floating out there, with no idea of what I'm doing or why I'm doing it.

I know that I love music and writing and school and my friends and my parents and my car and I'm terribly frightened for the future. The main things I don't know are why I feel and think the way I do.

A lot of my jokes are self-deprecating, and almost all of the things I think but don't say out loud are as well. I really really don't have high self-esteem, and I like to complain about my situation in life to anyone who will listen.

I know why I have low self-esteem, or at least part of it. I know why I say some of the self-deprecating things (because they're freaking funny, come on).

I just... I don't know why I like complaining. It seems like I can't ever stop myself. I've been in a pretty good mood for the past few days, if you haven't noticed, but today's a little bit of a slump. And the first thing I felt like doing was going to someone and saying "Ugh, my life sucks" and complaining about crap for the next few hours. But I didn't... I was strong enough to (mostly) hold it in and stop from ruining someone else's night. At least, that's what I feel like I do every time I complain nonstop to someone for that long.

Sigh. I'm hopeless. Or maybe not.

Haha.

!

I should have hope for the future. I should think that everything will turn out okay. That's what everybody says.

!

I can't exactly see myself winning the heart of some fantastic girl, having a dream job as a composer and living in a country mansion with my family and being perfectly happy.

I can't really see myself in the future at all. Whenever I try, I just get a distorted series of images and nothing really happy.

Of course, what do I know. According to everyone, I'm the worst possible judge of my own self-worth.

Myself included.

!

The title comes from my dad's disbelief that I could text that much in a month. I told him Kortney's average end-of-month total and I swear he about had a coronary.

!

Just got a few new albums. Mass Romantic, by The New Pornographers. Interesting name, great band. Super Taranta!, by Gogol Bordello. Gypsy-punk. It's so freaking awesome. I recommend you check it out. If you don't, you're a square.

!

I think I'm changing my look.

I got a whole bunch of new clothes, and I'm pretty sure I'm getting a serious haircut soon. My hair's like seven inches long. Kind of ridiculous. It'll be interesting to see what happens.

No, I'm not doing this for anyone. I'm doing it for me. Maybe if I change my appearance I'll be able to feel good about it for once in my life.

Just maybe.

!

Maybe all I'm looking for is a little validation. God knows I get little enough of it. Haha. Gotta love sarcasm.

I know I get validation. I just judge myself too harshly sometimes. But there are few areas in which I haven't received any validation that can be pretty devastating if you don't get any dang validation in.

That's probably really confusing. Long story short, girls don't "like" me.

!

This is an interesting post.

I think I like it.

Hey Mikey, I think he likes it.

!

I wonder if anyone will get that reference.

!

This post sure seems long. I wonder how long I can keep it going.

!

I'm currently reading The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand, as a means to avoid reading Tess because it's really really really really really boring.

It's an interesting book. It's mostly a philosophy-driven book, with little emphasis placed on characters and most of the development placed on the ideas.

Basically what she's saying is that taking everything you do from the past, from what's already been established, from what's already been done to death, is no good.

It's about architecture. In the book, and probably in real life, architects copy the classics because that's what they think looks the best and they think that nothing more can be done with architecture. The main character is the only one who thinks otherwise, and he designs with his own style without any regard to what's been done before him, forging bravely ahead regardless of whether they'll get built or not. He stays true to himself, true to his material, and true to the purpose of the building.

I think that's what I want to learn to do with music. Right now, I don't have the training to deviate very far from the established musical principles I learned in music theory, besides maybe adding a few meteric deviations and adding a few strange-sounding notes here and there. Really, I don't know how, nor do I have the power to, make huge changes.

I recently had an idea, influenced a little (maybe a lot) by this book: a symphony describing the construction of a skyscraper from start to finish, from architect's first hurried rush for paper when inspiration strikes to the finished product, immense and flabbergasting its audience as it towers over the pathetic city. I've already got some representative themes, or "leit-motifs," and I'm working on some more. It's fairly basic, but it's kind of cool.

I want to learn how to be truly innovative, how to break completely from the mold, and then I want to change the world of music. I don't know if I can do it. But one man (or woman) with a sufficient vision has had the power to change a world before, so why not me? Actually, I can think of a million and one reasons, but for the purposes of this, why not me?

!

Bringing it full circle, I truly don't have faith in myself. That's how this post is going to end.

It's probably a desperate cry for attention, for you to look at me. Then again, maybe it's not, and maybe it's just me saying what I really think and what I really feel.

I don't know. You decide which it is, and act accordingly.

Valentine's '08 Interview

2008-02-14T22:47:00.003-07:00

The night before Valentine's Day, Chris, Jaron, and I sat down and answered questions poised by ourselves and by curious girls about Valentine's Day and love in general. Hope you have as much fun reading it as we had writing it.

!

Alrighty, welcome one and all to the Taylorsville Alliance's Second Annual Valentine's Day Interview. I'm Thatcher, and I'll be chiming in black. Nickmo will represent blue, and Jaron will be green. Questions will be in pink.

I'll get this ball rolling. What are you looking for in your life right now, regarding relationships? Are you looking for that special girl? Looking for a temporary girlfriend? Avoiding? Tell us what, and why.

I'm looking for "the one." A lot of people say high school is too young... and maybe it is for a lot of people, maybe it is for me, but... It's not like I've never liked anyone. I did have real feelings for people, and it didn't work out, I know how painful it can be, and I think that helps me know how hard I really do have to work to keep my relationship together. I don't ever wanna go back to being the lonely one. Part of me thinks that when people say "high school is too young" they're referring to the stupid jerks who don't take things seriously yet. There are plenty of stories about high school sweethearts getting married and living happily :) I think that can be me too, if I work at it very hard.

So are you saying that, right now, you're actively on the hunt for "the one"? I mean, I just think there's a difference between maybe coincidentally meeting "the one" and actively seeking out a girl you're gonna plan to marry. What's the status there?

Well... truth be told, I really think I've found her. I... hesitate to say too much. I don't want to be too freakishly personal here, but... How it happened was mostly a chance thing. We happened to meet at just the right time in our lives, and there was this weird connection. I guess it's chemistry. But I still didn't want to accept that I liked her for a LONG time, and she really liked me, so she pursued me. She would always get rides home from me, and give me hugs and wouldn't let go... stuff like that. It took me a while to accept my feelings. When I did, it was like this big "duh" moment. There was nothing to be afraid of. So... I suppose, it's kind of a combination of the two? There is definitely a lot of chance involved, but you still gotta know what to go for and what to leave behind.

Right on, thanks for sharing. Now, you don't have to answer this one if you don't want to, but I'll put it out there anyways. Curious, since you are accepting the possibility of a serious future here, is there anything that you're doing right now to specifically prepare for that?

Definitely. I have been trying my best to learn the kinds of lessons I'm gonna need in a successful relationship. Sacrifice, patience, communication, honesty, sincerity, trust... so many things. It's a step-by-step sort of thing, and I mess up, of course, but it's a learning thing. I try to remember things I learned in Adult Roles, and I look for little random factoids about happily married couples (5:1 positive-to-negative ratio!) and see what I can do to be more like that. It's all taught me a lot... it's knowledge that I definitely wouldn't get if I wasn't serious about it all. And even if I wasn't thinking about one girl in particular... the thing they say about "being the kind of person you want to marry" is so true. Developing yourself and becoming a better person yourself is probably one of the best ways to prepare for a lifelong relationship, as far as I know :D

Right on, that's great, thanks for answering Jaron. Nickmo, original question?

While I think it'd be great to have a girlfriend, and definitely some good experience for the future, I definitely don't see it happening in high school, for a few reasons that I've discussed before. I'm not against high school relationships at all, and I like the idea of it, I just want to avoid it at this point to avoid being hurt or hurting someone. I don't really think this is the time or the place for elaborating on my reasons for making this decision, but I really like girls, no worries, I just don't think a relationship's the best thing for me at this point.

Follow up for you, Nickmo. Last year when we did this interview you were pretty opposed to high school relationships. You said something like "Right now, I realize that nobody needs a romantic relationship in high school, no matter how much they might want it." Can I ask what changed between now and then? What made your feelings reverse on that issue?

What made my feelings reverse? Probably hormones. Or maybe I really want a relationship because I can't have one. Haha. Honestly, I think I just said that last year because I was just trying to avoid saying something like I really really want one and sounding ridiculously stupid, because last year me had even less of a chance of getting a girlfriend than this year me does. Which isn't very much. Haha. I was probably just jealous and trying to avoid embarrassment. Your turn to answer the initial question, Chris.

I'm doing my best to avoid getting into a relationship right now. While there's plenty of nights when I think it'd make my life easier, in the end I figure that it's just not the best move I can make at this point. That doesn't mean that I'm not looking at the ladies pretty closely, though. With college approaching and everything else in my life forward, I can't help but think about the future. Now, I'm not running around saying "Oh, I could totally marry her in four years," but I am looking at certain girls and certain qualities that are good or bad. It's sorta weird, and more or less involuntary, but I'm starting to notice things like that more and more. I think that I'm basically data mining right now. Observing what's good and what's bad while keeping myself unaffiliated for a lot of reasons. School, council, my own fear of hurting somebody and being hurt, and friends are all doing a good job to keep me from making any moves.

Cool. My turn: What's the deal with Valentine's Day? Is it a necessary holiday? Is it just a scam by Hallmark to make guys buy crap for girls? Why/why not?

You know, I'm not opposed to Valentine's Day at all. Yes, I know, for a healthy relationship, it's probably good to pay attention to your significant other every day of the year. But having reminders of all that never really hurts. I believe that it does add a lot of stress to a relationship, and that it can be potentially dangerous. Yeah, I do think that Hallmark profits from it, but I'm not opposed to people making a good profit. To be honest, I'm a little excited about the prospect of Valentine's Days in my future. I'm not incredibly orthodox when it comes to relationships and all that, but I see Valentine's Day as an opportunity to be creative and do something amazing for someone that I really care about. I thrive on opportunities to prove myself. What could be cooler than working really hard to say something that means so much to you? I don't know, I just think it'll be pretty awesome. High school, bahaha, Valentine's Day is a joke. But in the future, yeah, I'm really looking forward to that opportunity and obligation.

I sorta answered this in my blog yesterday, but I'll do a short recap. I think Valentine's is awesome. I think it's great that love gets its own holiday. What isn't so awesome is how a lot of people seem to think that it's all about the gifts and the expensive date and whatnot. I think a little outside-of-the-box thinking needs to happen. I don't think that it should be the one day a year you take your sweetie out to dinner... I think it's yet another helpful excuse to do something that you should already be doing on a regular basis anyway, and a celebration of your happy relationship. Like I said about President's Day: The president is still around every other day. So should love.

My turn, I guess. I like the idea of Valentine's Day, but it's got poor execution. Guys forget about it and rush out to buy something at the last minute to make their girlfriend happy, and the focus of the holiday seems to be on material objects. I do know that when/if I get a girlfriend, I'll try not to make it all about stuff, because if the girl focuses on how much compressed coal I can put on her finger, then she's not really a great person, and also because worrying about stuff like that detracts from what should be the spirit of Valentine's Day. In short, Valentine's would be cool if we didn't feel so pressured to make it all about material objects.

"If the girl focuses on how much compressed coal I can put on her finger, then she's not really a great person" - I agree. Rings are nice, but that shouldn't be the focus.

Hmm... What is your favorite/most memorable/worst Valentine's memory?

I guess I'll take a stab at it with the only Valentine's Day that's ever been anything but neutral to me. It was ninth grade, and me and Eunice (names have been changed to protect the innocent) had very recently had a serious downgrade to our relationship. I wasn't entirely sure where I stood as far as she was concerned. I knew I hadn't entirely given up hope. So, in English that day we had done something with arts and crafts, and I had some tiny fake flower that I horked from the pile of stuff we didn't use. I figured I'd go throw it at her, you know, just as a "Hey, I'm still alive, isn't that great?" kinda thing. So I'm walking over there towards her locker, and she opens it up about six seconds before I got there. As soon as she opened it up about a billion of those candy hearts spilled out all over the place. Yeah, I can't compete with that. So I just walked on dejected. Granted, I hadn't put any effort into my attempt, but it still hurt to get so upstaged. Rahahahaha.

Aww, sad, about the candy hearts thing. That must have been a bummer.

My Valentine's memory was my first kiss. Actually, it was my NOT first kiss. I liked this girl (the first one I was serious about) and on Valentine's, I wanted to kiss her. I would give her the present and then exchange a quick first kiss before she got in the car to drive away. Nothing fancy, nothing fancy. The night before, I got this random idea. I found a conversation heart that said "let's kiss" and decided to give it to her, kind of to break the ice. (I was sore afraid.) Well... the day came, and as we're coming up to my house, I realize that we hadn't even kissed on the cheek yet, and I started to panic. We couldn't skip a step! (Like I said, I was on edge. This was a big deal.) So, I chickened out. I gave her the gift, but not the heart. She pulled me in for the hug, and then paused... that was the moment I was supposed to turn my head and kiss her, but I froze. She kissed my cheek instead, got into the car, and drove away.

That is the story of my almost-first kiss.

Awww, sadness for Jaron. But then again, the Captain Clean Lips inside me secretly rejoices for your sorrow. Rejection always means clean lips, and clean lips always mean sanitation and medical security.

Clean lips club for the win.... I think... I don't have any experiences with Valentine's Day, either, except for the interview thingy last year. With Megan. Haha... that was hilarious. But yeah, I got nothing. I've never been within a mile of having a relationship, so I've never had anything special or whatever to do on Valentine's. I think this Thursday will most likely be my most memorable/fun Valentine's Day ever, and the first one I'll ever have a date on.

Turns out we've got some guest questions. K.K. asks What's your favorite love song ever?

Oh snap, that's a good question. I think that love songs come and go for me. In ninth grade, it was definitely "Crazy for the Girl" - Evan and Jaron. It was sorta the theme song for the first half of that year. Then I didn't listen to it for six months, ha. It's not my favorite any more though. I think for all time favorite love song, I'm gonna go with "Better Days" - Goo Goo Dolls. That song always evokes very strong emotion for me. When I think of a girl that I could be really serious with, I gotta think that me and her would both feel that song, just because of the way that she'd have to be for me to be serious about her. Does that make any sense?

Hmm. Well, I think the best slow dancin' song ever is "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias. As for my favorite love song... That's a tough question. I could give you a few that I really like: "Better Together" by Jack Johnson. "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional. "Everything" by Lifehouse. "Blind" by Lifehouse. Um... There are just a lot of good ones for different moods and situations, you know? "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5... "A Plain Morning" by Dashboard... "Home" by Michael Buble is a great one. I guess it depends on if "I miss you" songs count as love songs. And truthfully, some of the fun, happy ones really are quite good. "Here (In Your Arms)" by Hellogoodbye. "Red Sweater" by The Aquabats. The list goes on :)

Agreed. "Stolen" is really good, but unfortunately, it comes down to three other ones for me. First of all, there's "Hands Down" by Dashboard, mainly because of the line "My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won't you kill me so I die happy." I need to use that for a pickup line sometime. Then of course, there's "O Valencia!" by The Decemberists. That's a really good, bittersweet song. Everyone should go look it up, it's on YouTube. One of my favorites of all time. Last but not least is "What Sarah Said" by Death Cab for Cutie. It's a painfully sentimental song with a terribly good thought-provoking line: "Love is watching someone die." That line just makes me think every time I hear it...

"Hands Down" - I agree, that's a great one. I also really like "Of Angels and Angles" by The Decemberists. It makes me smile :)

Another guest question, this time from my good friend J.J. from south of the border. She asks, Do guys actually like Valentine's Day or do you think it's overrated getting your signifigant other chocolate, etc., etc.?

I like Valentine's Day. I don't know about overrated... if anything, it's underrated, or just misunderstood. I guess it's the same answer as before. I think sometimes people just lose sight of the real meaning.

Like we've said, Valentine's Day shouldn't be all about the Benjamins. It should be more about the love.

M.Wh. asks: Do you think that if a girl likes a guy, he'll start liking her back because she likes him, or vice versa?

Yes. I don't know about falling head over heels for the girl right away, but there's a definite impact. My brother Michael has always said that there's nothing in the world that's more attractive than a girl who likes you. I know it maybe shouldn't be that way, but once I figure out a girl likes me, I always like her more than I did before I knew she liked me. It just happens. Whether he'll officially "like her back" is still up in the air, but he'll definitely like her more, I think.

I think it's probably true, but I hesitate to say anything either way because I haven't experienced this before (to my knowledge). So yeah, probably.

Hmm. Tough question... I don't think it's a black and white thing, but I do think it has an impact. I mean, think about how hard it is to like someone who doesn't like you back. I imagine the effect can be reversed to a certain extent... it makes it a little harder to not like someone who likes you back. But I think there are plenty of other factors that can be much more repelling than the extent to which a one-way attraction can be inviting. If... that makes sense. I guess what I'm trying to say is, it can have a bit of an effect, more or less depending on the person and their situation, but I don't think it's a huge factor. I think mostly what it does is eliminate that awkward first barrier - that "I don't know if she likes me" thing. With that out of the way, it's easier for a relationship to connect and start, if there's a potential there.

Our good friend M.We. asks: What defines a Valentine? I mean, if I'm not dating someone, can I still have one?

I think it can be anyone you ask to be your Valentine. And no reason why people can't have more than one! Your best friends can be your Valentines. I guess it's just whoever you care about the most. I mean, I guess Valentine's is sorta a celebration of romantic love, but think about elementary school. We gave Valentine's to everybody. So, I suppose a general love for mankind can be a valid cause for Valentine celebration. I think so long as it's about love and happy feelings, you can direct it toward anything you like, whether you've got a boyfriend or not. That's why the whole Singles Awareness Day thing doesn't fly for me :D That's just me.

Haha. I'm terribly aware of my single-tude every day, so Valentine's is just like every other day. ;) But yeah, I think that anyone can be your V-dog. I think my Valentine this year is either Jennifer or inadvertently Megan, so who knows? It could be anyone, even a clarinet. Go for it. Also, I like the idea of polygatining.

+ A billion word choice for polygatining. I had to think about it for a tic, but wow, that's pretty smooth. As for the initial question, I'm going to have to be the dissenting vote here. For me, relationships are pretty much an all or nothing thing. I think that if you're gonna have a Valentine, they've got to mean something to you. And if they mean something to you, at least in a romantic sense, I don't think there can be any other Valentines. If you want to say that a buddy is your Valentine, that's fine, but what does that mean? Myself, I couldn't do it. If I had a declared Valentine, she'd definitely be a lot more to me than a buddy.

I just thought about it, and... a Valentine is such an abstract thing. What does it mean? "Be My Valentine." "Okay." And then... what? You know? I guess it can just mean anything you want it to.

Ok, a question from me now. What's the best girl for you? How is she? What's she about? In addition, why are those things important to you?

The best girl for me? At this point, I know a few who would probably fit the bill, but I don't know how sure I am about that. The "perfect" girl would have to be into classical music, and the bands I like. She'd have to be intelligent, someone you can carry a conversation with. She'd have to be funny and into my sense of humor, which can be extremely bizarre at times. She'd have to have a personality I couldn't stand to live without. She'd have to be someone my mind would keep returning to when she's not there, someone I couldn't help but wonder about. She'd have to be mysterious and intriguing. She'd have to believe a lot of the same things I do. Since they say opposites attract, she'd have to have pretty high self-esteem and be pretty confident. She's all about the love and the sensitivity. All of those things are important to me because what they taught us in adult roles is true: you need someone who's really similar to you in most ways. That's my current opinion. All of those things are important to me because those are the things I deal with in my daily life, and if she couldn't be a part of that, it wouldn't work out. Haha, reading that back, it really sounds like I'm picky. Haha... maybe that's why I don't have a girlfriend.

The best girl for me would be one who could offset me in just the right way - someone who could help me bring out my imperfections and help me learn to fix them, or at least motivate me to try a little harder. I believe that there is an amazing power of mutual growth and development that can happen when a couple works together on their problems in a loving way. I agree with Nick on the "similar" thing. It's easiest to connect with someone who's a lot like you. I'd need someone mostly introverted, but who could open up to me. The way I work is, I have my few close friends that I can open up to, and that's all I need. Sometimes it can be down to just one lifeline. I know it's dangerous, but... that's how I roll ;) To be each other's lifeline and to have the trust and faith that neither of us would do anything to break that would be a very rewarding and uplifting thing for me. Um... she'd have to like physical expressions of affection. Healthy ones, of course. I'd have to be able to feel absolutely and completely comfortable with her. I'd need to feel that I am unconditionally cared for. I'd need someone who wouldn't get freaked out by my intensity... (weird for me to say, yes, but I hate having to hold back my feelings, so when I feel strongly for someone, it comes out.) Similar interests are always good. Someone to just do stuff with, stuff we both love. Video games, writing, whatever. I would need companionship, partnership, just a feeling of general togetherness. Nick said he wanted a mysterious girl, but I would have a hard time with that. It would frustrate me. I want to know what's going on in her mind, just like I want her to know what's going on in mine. Sometimes that can't be helped, but communication is. Um... someone who didn't need a lot of expensive gifts, but is appreciative of them when I give them. Someone kind, definitely. I can't handle teasing... I'm over-sensitive. Someone who doesn't like teasing, except in very limited circumstances. Um... yeah, that's just a small list :D Guess who I'm thinking of... Good question.

Wow, you guys make the application to be a CIA agent look like candy. Anyways, I think the most important thing for me is somebody that wants to move forward. Somebody who's got a firm idea of where they've been, where they are now, and where they are going. Somebody who has their priorities straight, and above all else, somebody that wants to be a better person. If that's my end goal, I want somebody else with that same goal. I think that if there's a girl who's really working to be a better person, everything else will start to fall into place. There will be problems in any relationship, no matter the qualities that the individuals possess. A desire to grow and be better means that we can learn from those problems together and become greater. Somebody that believes deeply the things that I believe is important to me. That's why I make my life the way it is, and I couldn't see myself sharing someone else's life that wasn't sure of that. Progress, I think, is what it's all about. And a girl that could help me progress, and that I could help progress, and that could help our children progress, that's number one for me.

Honestly, I should probably add that I don't really know what the perfect girl will be like until I find her. At this point, I'm just a naive little Utahn boy pretending I know what I want, when in reality, I probably have no clue. When/if I find that perfect girl, she might be exactly like I described her, or she might be completely different.

S.P. asks: How do you define love?

Wow. That's a good question. I define love as... when two people become one and their sum is greater than their parts. Obviously not literally, but... there is this connection that is just unmistakable. And it includes so many different feelings... a lot of happiness, when you're with the other person or thinking about them, but also a lot of pain when you aren't together. It's when a smile jumps to your face whenever you see them. It's when you can't get rid of that smile, no matter how hard you try. It's when they're talking to you and you realize that the world around you has gone by without you noticing it. It's when your mind automatically jumps to them whenever you're not doing anything else. It's how you think about them when everything else gets quiet at night. It's when you see something beautiful and wish that they could see it with you. It's when you know that you want nothing more than to be with that person forever. It's when the conversation comes easy and natural. It's when you feel so comfortable with them that you divulge every dark secret you have and know that they will still love you afterwards. It's when you want to become a better person for the one you love. It's when you try not to do anything bad, even if no one else will know about it, because you know that it affects them too. It's how you know that every single thing you do or think about gets transferred to them in some way. It's how you know that your lives are no longer just your own; you are sharing them together, and the best part is, you're happy about it. It's when you lose sight of some things that you thought were so important before and understand that you are better off without them. It's life-changing. It's monumental. It's incredible. It's probably the best thing worth pursuing in this life. It's what separates us from animals and brings us closer to being gods.

Yeah. Stuff like that :) I like what Courtney said: "Love is like, Woah!" It's hard to pin down... but you know it when you feel it.

Love is interesting. Love is always exciting. You should never be bored in love, you should always discover new things about the person you love, little things maybe, but nevertheless, things you didn't know. Love is when you can't think of enough ways to say what love is (*cough* Jaron). Love is painful when it's not requited. Love is painful when it is requited, sometimes more so than the unrequited kind. Love is knowing when to stop. Love is watching someone die. Death Cab had that right. Love is not even knowing what love is, but knowing that you're in it.

I think that love, in its true form, is a gift from God. And I think that it's given bit by bit, as we work for it. It's care for the other person. Genuine concern for their well being. That concern is an entirely altruistic thing, though. It's not about you, it's about them. And why it's about them, well, maybe we won't know, but we know that it is, and we act on it.

K.S. asks: What's your perfect thing to do on a date, activity wise?

I really like laid-back hang-out-type things where there is a lot of talking, about big and little questions. But this really only works with people you're already very close to. I like having no plan whatsoever... just watching a movie, or going on a random frosty run, or playing pokemon cards, or whatever. Just being together. I suppose that's not really a date...

I agree with Jaron, the spontaneous/weird stuff is pretty cool. Haha, like my date for Valentine's Day, it was kind of random and spur-of-the-moment, but I think it's gonna be awesome. My favorite kinds of dates are the ones where it's really casual and you're just there to have fun. Of course, if/when I start looking for a girlfriend, it'll probably switch to the more talking/asking questions sort of date where you're trying to get to know someone you don't even know, since most of my dates have been with pretty good friends. So yeah, casual dates are good. :D

Agreed with the two above, more or less. Structure in a date is in no way a bad thing. as long as it facilitates genuine talking. That's my number one on a date. Can I actually talk to a girl? Can we learn more about each other? Can I find out what kind of person she is? Hopes? Fears? Dreams? If I can't do that on a date, it really wasn't worth much to me. That's what I think dates ought to be about. I love having a great time, and that's cool, but I can have a great time with my boys. If I'm on a date, I'm there to have a great time with you, and to learn more about you.

M.B. asks: What would it take to make Valentine's Day romantic for a guy?

I don't think it would really take a lot. I mean, if he's the one buying the chocolates and dinner and whatever, he probably just wants to be comfortable and have a laugh or two with the girl, maybe get a good hug at the end of the night. He wants to enjoy his evening. He wants it all to go over smoothly, and hopes that at the end of it all, he and his Valentine are a bit closer. Truth is, though, I'm probably not the best guy to ask about this :D For me personally, it would be my aforementioned plan-less fun-time with a special someone. We can go to, like... Dee's for some breakfast-for-dinner, and then go to my house and watch a movie while we bake cookies, and then snuggle on the couch for a bit and talk about stuff. I just think the biggest thing is feeling comfortable with being me and wasting time in the best way I can. :)

I think what it would take is for the girl to lay off on the pressure. I'd have to be in a relationship first of all, for a Valentine's Day to even want to be romantic. But really I think all it would take is for the girl not to treat it like anything special. If it's just another day where we maybe spend more time together, then that's fine by me. I think the most romantic Valentine's Day would consist of me getting her a gift that's more of an inside joke that's really meaningful to both of us, instead of some expensive chunk of compressed coal (still like that), and then having a nice quiet dinner, home-made or at a restaurant, it doesn't matter, and then just maybe renting a movie or sitting and talking. That would be an awesome day. Can't say no to any of that. That's all it would take, one romantic, pressure-free day, neither one of us trying to impress the other. Just being happy to be with the other.

This is the one romantic answer you'll get out of me. To be romantic for a guy, the right girl would have to come and say "Hey, I really like you. You make me want to be a better person, and I make you want to be a better person. I'm a great girl, and you're a great guy. What do you say?" and I'd say, wow, let's take this slow. And that'd start a train. And nothing would happen for a few weeks, but a few weeks later I'd hold her hand, etc. etc. Honestly, that'd be the most romantic thing.

Haha, I have to be honest, all this talk of Valentine's has me wanting to abandon my quest. But I'm certain nothing would happen if I did. So nay. I will remain strong.

~~~~

And that's it for the Taylorsville Alliance 2008 Valentine's Day Interview. I feel really good about what happened here tonight. It's always good to come together with two other guys that you respect a lot and talk about things that are important to us. Much thanks to Nickmo and Jaron for all their great insights, as well as all the friends out there who contributed questions. Incredible thanks to everybody who reads this thing. Even more incredible thanks to those who comment on this. Also, if there's anything that you feel we didn't answer thoroughly enough, something you want to ask a follow up on, or just a normal question that you have, feel free to ask away. Because of how cool this was tonight, we might just start doing this more often.

Thanks for being here everybody. I'm glad we've been able to have this discussion. Much love. I hope you're all doing well, and good luck for the future.

Sonnets 12 and 13

2008-02-10T23:37:00.001-07:00

Sonnet 12 (Valentine)
To be in love; to fly with broken wing;
A clouded sky, open and cold and safe;
A valentine bereft of its feeling;
To toss gold at a street-side begging waif;
To attend a ball dressed up all in rags;
No roof to shield your head during a storm;
To doge with zig while your beloved zags;
To sacrifice your day when your love mourns;
To keep one heart and rip the next in twain;
To climb a thousand steps without rising;
To kill one's love, than watch them writhe in pain;
To need a thing, jealous eyes apprising;
To feel unworthy of your lover's praise;
To be unprepared for th'rest of your days.

Sonnet 13
Time is flying by, nothing we can do.
Society says we should kill ourselves,
Destroy all of us that we thought we knew,
Just stick our lives and dreams up on our shelves.
I'm your heart's conquistador, and I say
We run to where no electric lights are,
To where there are no distractions; the play
Of the starshine on your skin the lone scar.
Minds react as one t'the same stimuli,
No inhibitions, no iron curtains.
Sometimes we meet i'the middle of July,
Other times the date remains uncertain.
Scattered hearts and solely devoted minds
Murmuring forth as the time it unwinds.

Sonnets 10 and 11

2008-02-03T10:27:00.001-07:00

These were written on the flight from Chicago O'Hare to SLC. Pretty quickly. Most of the sonnets have been written pretty quickly. I think that's an indication of their quality. Not very good. Oh well. The second one's... well, I won't lie, it's pretty dang weird. But I like it. I like it a LOT. Which, like, never happens. Anyway. Enjoy. And if you don't enjoy, tell me all about it.

!

Sonnet 10
I'm done with love. The price is much too high.
I'm through with holding your hand in the dark,
With listening to all your top-ten lists,
With being happy just to sit by you.
No more moonlit drives, or long days with you.
No inside jokes or knowing how many
Kinds of looks you have, or when you need me.
No more bragging to my friends; sipping tea
And counting your smiles; city strolls in spring
Picking you snapdragons (you hate roses).
No more seeing shapes in clouds above us
As the grass tickles our necks; it's over.
Now I spend my days trying to forget.
The days with love are better left behind.

Sonnet 11
Defiant, we burst our bubbles in win-
ter, years spent in transit, the sand weeps for
the camel. Rivets and riveters lie
beneath us and before us. Teeth clenched tight,
we run for the hills, grinning like madmen.
Latches lock lightly, spinning us out of
orbit. The sun becomes a hurricane,
and our levees break. There is no us to
speak of, and we like it just fine here in
oblivion. Fires thirst and are sated.
Nightmares besiege and angels reprieve us.
Saddle up and ride for the light at the
end of the tunnel. No more lies, no es-
pionage. The more is the merrier...

Sonnet 9

2008-01-30T20:46:00.001-07:00

Sonnet 9
This walk with you has lasted for long years.
Those years lasted for only days and hours.
Everyone's going someplace here or there.
We are all alone in the rainy air.
Far away from those other ones we see.
We find ourselves lost in a sea of dark.
We hear the music in our heads softly.
A dance floor appears and we waltz alone.
My forehead is clammy and tinged with red.
You lean in a whisper reaches my ear.
Dance floor disappears and it's you and me.
Your lips entice and invite and beckon.
The earth cries out at us screaming to kiss.
We fly away and we stay there. The End.

Sonnet 8

2008-01-29T00:15:00.001-07:00

I think it's interesting that Jaron revises them and I don't. I've almost never ever revised anything. Ever. Especially poetry. I love poetry because it's so spur of the moment and it's striving to have some meaning and to have you love it. So I write it off the cuff to stay true to its roots. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself.

!

I know this isn't the best... but I'm going through a lot of stuff right now and maybe I needed some catharsis.

Sonnet 8

We're worlds apart; I want to meet halfway.
"It's all or nothing, we must meet here, dear."
Yet to leave would be to leave my soul, leave
Everything that I care about and love
(Excepting you), and to change what I think
And know, believe, and have faith forever.
I know this place, and its feeling of blue,
Calming and healing and nurturing me.
And yet you complete and teach and reach me.
A burning red flame in a cold dark sky,
A star by which to guide my sails and heart.
My one my true my love my blue my bless'd.
I would gladly travel the stars for you,
Fight a million fights; but you're not worth that.

Why I'm Depressed Or Something

2008-01-28T15:59:00.002-07:00

Lately it feels like every day is the worst day of my life. Minus that two day California thing. But even then, that was nerve-wracking.

Spiraling into some cone of doom or something.

I probably won't get any money for college 'cause 1) There are thousands of kids out there who need or deserve the money more than me and 2) I hardly have free time anymore, so hence no time to work on scholarship applications.

I don't have a very good chance of getting into these schools. I heard the other kids who were auditioning. I don't win. Haha.

It seems like all of my friends' lives are kind of crashing down around them. Well, not all, but a higher-than-I-like number...

All of that combined with all my pre-existing problems combine to make... this.

I don't know. You'd think I would be able to be happy. But yeah. That doesn't work. It's not that easy.

I hate this feeling. But I can't do anything about it. There it is. In case you were wondering.

Sonnet 7

2008-01-24T23:20:00.001-07:00

I believe this makes me caught up. I wrote this to fill out a page in my portfolio, but I ended up liking it. Hooray!

!

Sonnet 7
This bated breath, tasting stale in our mouths.
Our glassy eyes, shining white in the night.
Your soul, glowing bright blue in the moonlight.
Our hands, mingled, grasping, sensing, holding—
We struggle to retain our minds, our lives
Caught up in one another, o’erlooking
Deficiencies, discrepancies, mistakes.
Stars hold our heads in, keeping us bound here,
Though we would fly to what we know not of.
Baited hooks, dangling just out of our reach.
Tortuous delights, keeping us at bay
No matter, pay no mind, see no evil.
We’re here, you and I, alone together,
Bathed in holy flame, sealed in forever.

Sonnets 5 and 6

2008-01-09T19:41:00.001-07:00

Sonnet 5
It was your birthday, a wet day in June.
You came to the party, all rags and gold,
A funeral gown your attire; for soon
You'd leave us all, and go into the cold.
You weren't made for this cruel world, girl-my-love,
And it wasn't made for you, with your eyes
That see the stars and want to be above;
You who never say farewells nor goodbyes,
"For what is 'goodbye' but 'hello' later?"
And so that is why, on that one last day,
You came to me at the party and said,
"Hello. I don't think we shall meet again."
And we did not. You were too good for us,
And we miss you and you won't come back now.

Sonnet 6
The mountains peek through the smog-laden clouds
Like illegible noodles in a kid's
Alphabet Soup. So my thoughts run awild,
Far and whee, prosaic and poetic
And prosaic, anything to impress.
A dervish, a gypsy, a sultan, ho!
An opera of mice racing in my head
Scurrying to show you, look, dear, how smart
I am, and clever, and witty, and dull
And look, I wrote you a sonnet, for you
On a cocktail napkin, all in pencil
Free to erase or read to your content
And now for some metacognition, eh?
Why a sonnet? Who knows? Who cares? Not me.

!

The first one was begun a week ago or so and was inspired by a song or something.

The first three lines or so of the second were thought up on the airplane from Reno to SLC, when I saw mountains peeping over the tops of clouds, trying to be closer to god, when all the clouds wanted was to get away. And that's what I thought of. The kind of thought process that it takes to get from mountains and clouds to Alphabet Soup boggles the mind.

Paradigm

2008-01-07T23:39:00.001-07:00

I'm behind by two again. *Sigh.* I'm pretty sure I'm abandoning the sonnets for the next month. The next month is going to be a ridiculous amount of work for me. It's not even... I don't even want to talk about it. I'll pick it up after the first week of February. If I remember. Or care.

My first audition for a college is Thursday the 17th. I'm freaking out.

I love talks.

Long long talks, too.

Hours on end.

They're ridiculously fun and productive. That's why I think I love MSN so much. It allows me to talk to people more. And maybe I'm still so insecure that I crave human interaction to prove my worth, or something.

Hmm, the insecure thing. That's a thing I've been dealing with since 7th grade. I had a few good friends in elementary, but I wasn't as close to them as I feel I am to my friends now. But when I reached seventh grade, my old elementary "friends" and I parted ways. I haven't talked to most of them for about 5 or 6 years. I didn't really start to have close friends that I actually talked about stuff with until 11th grade. That's kind of sad. Hm. Oh well.

Back to the talks. I had my meeting with Ms. Parrish today. I really love talking with her. She's so amazingly intelligent and witty. At the beginning, we talked about my papers. She graded me really hard, I got mostly B's except for one essay, but I totally agree with her estimation. However, she's really pushing me to do my best in revising them. I think I'm going to end up totally revising a few of them, maybe. But she says that I haven't been at my peak writing ability this year, and she's totally right. I've been knocking out these essays the night before at midnight or something, not even putting effort into them. And, when pressed to say why, I don't really have an answer. I think I'm just lazy, or thinking I can get by because she says I'm the best writer in the senior class.

However, this talk went on for about a half hour, if my estimation is correct. After telling me I'm a sexist [totally true, but society today (and especially Utah) drums it into you from a young age, and I'm working on it], we got to talking about how I got to be such a good writer. And my answer to that is, I've been reading forever. I just pick up things from reading really fast, see what works and what doesn't work and incorporate the successful techniques into my writing. Of course, by assimilation I've picked up some bad habits, but I'm weeding those out.

This topic naturally led to us talking about my style. I definitely have different personae when I write. There's my offhand, poem response, witty persona. There's my serious essay, still creative within limited boundaries persona. There's my "this is bullcrap, I'm totally making fun of you with thinly veiled language" persona. There's my dialog with another person persona (that one invariably ends with me saying some seeming non sequitur and the other person looking at me like I'm a hobo on crack). There's my depressed dialog with another person persona (that one invariably ends with me saying some seeming non sequitur about how I suck and the other person laughing and agreeing). And yet in all of my personae, one theme sticks through them all: self-deprecation.

Ms. Parrish pointed out to me, and it's not the first time I've noticed, but I've come to some realizations about my writing. I have a way of insulting myself in my writing that is not even noticeable if you're not looking for it. After a while, you stop noticing the fact that I'm insulting myself and start thinking of it as a natural thing. At least, that's the conclusion I reached. At any rate, we both agreed that as a writer, and as a funny person, much of my humor relies on creative ways of making fun of myself.

So naturally, we began talking about why I'm so self-deprecating. And I said, of course it comes from my low self-esteem, so she said, so why do you have low self-esteem? And I got to thinking. And it's basically all from junior high. That's where it all started really. That's when I started to feel ostracized, like a loner, an outcast, though perhaps I didn't know what I was feeling, or why. It is only recently, within the last year, that I've been able to put a name on the reason why I have low self-esteem. And I hate to say it, but it's the truth. The Mormon culture is the primary cause for my low self-esteem. Ms. Parrish said I need to start recognizing my skills (I'm going to work at that). I responded, spur-of-the-moment, with quite possibly one of the most insightful things I've ever said. "But within that context, my skills are practically worthless." The context being the Mormon culture.

There's always going to be a glass ceiling for me inside the Mormon culture. I can't be friends with you past this point. Your mom says I can't fall in love with you. I'm not being bitter tonight, I promise, I'm just saying it the way it is. Other non-Mormons will doubtless agree with me. So, outside of this context, sure, maybe I'm valuable mate material. Will I ever know without leaving Utah? I've got about a 50% chance overall in Utah. But in Taylorsville High School? At Eisenhower back in the day? More like a 1% chance. I really don't like the odds of that. Odds will increase, sure, at the U, but still only 50% overall. I'm really excited to see what I'm worth outside of this context. As Ms. Parrish said, I really need to shift paradigms.

I'd love to come back to Utah someday, if it's feasible, and Ms. Parrish thinks I can do great things here. I'm sure I'll come back, if only to visit. I do love Utah.

So there it is. The real reason for my low self-esteem. I'm pretty sure a lot of you could've guessed at it, or I've told you, before, but that's the official cause for 99% of my emotional turmoil and crap.

Hm.

When you think about it, is a paradigm worth $0.20? No. No it's not. It's invaluable.

Sonnet 4

2007-12-29T23:59:00.001-07:00

A blog post is a lot like the Schrodinger's cat paradox. It doesn't exist until you click on the link or type it in the browser, but it exists the whole time.

Super physics!

I wish there were just a superhero whose power was to just screw around with physics. Reverse gravity, undo the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle... in localized areas, of course. But yeah. Anyway.

!

"Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people in the whole world. I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of worlds. Thousands, maybe." -- Neil Gaiman

!

Interesting how employers look around on the internet for their employees' blogs. I wonder if anyone would actually hire me after looking at this. "Holy crap. This kid's insane. Joe, call that kid and tell him we can't hire him."

I could see it happening.

!

If I could go back in time, I'd go back to the year 1337.

!

I meant to post this a few days ago, but now I'm behind a few, so I guess I better get going.

!

You're gone now, love, a far-off dream of mine
I spend my nights daydreaming, summer thoughts
In winter keep me warm; I make me thine.
My head spins round; with thoughts of you it's fraught
And cannot rest until it's full with you--
And yet you're gone and can't return now, love
A precious dream, but unrequited, true
It's torture, love, you're gone, my love, my dove
My tongue is all mixed up, you see, and now
A fog has lowered, fear descending 'pon
A foolish man, a twit, with furrowed brow
I wonder what has made my wits begone?
My mind is reeling, dear, and you're the cause
The thought of you at night gives me to pause.

!

I was going to write another one, but it's late. I'm still behind by one. But oh well.

Sonnet 3

2007-12-26T22:33:00.001-07:00

I wonder how many of these I'll have to write before this is considered a sonnet cycle. One, I suppose. In modern art, you can pretty much write a word on a piece of paper and call it a sonnet cycle. Heck, you can give someone a blank piece of paper and call it art. "It represents the void of humanity's heart." "Oh... okay, that's... nice. Congratulations."

~~~~~~

I feel your pulse beneath my hand--from thee,
A beat, and more, to prove to all--you live.
But all I think of's what you said to me
Of how your heart is yours, just yours, to give.
I sit and stroke your ashen hair, and ask
Could I give up my heart, my right to live,
To gain the right and joy to lie and bask
In golden light, just yours to freely give?
No doubt you deem a fool unworthy of
The gold you have to give to him, of course
For why would she allow a man in love
To draw upon her heart, a shining source?
I think, "Why, fool, she has already done;
A transfer has but only just begun."

~~~~~~

I guess sonnets look easy, but if you write them like Shakespeare did, in iambic pentameter, going unstressed/stressed for ten syllables, it's a lot harder than it looks. And rhyming! With a weird rhyme pattern, too... you know, good ol' ABABCDCDEE. That little thing took me about 10 minutes, maybe more. Geez.

Sonnet 2

2007-12-24T01:07:00.001-07:00

The night, bedecked in glorious starry cloth
A wind of portent blows out, onward--There!
A storm of wicked temper, furious wroth
Doth ruffle that girl's holy, blazing hair.
She does not fear the tempest, flash or blast;
But stands, beside thou Poet, all in stars
Her lips don't tremble, chin held firmly fast
The time draws late, but time is only ours.
Together eyes a-watching for a skiff,
We wait, atop the summit high, in doubt
Our bodies both are held intently, stiff...
And just when hope of safety's thrown all out,
There comes the skiff that bears her love divine;
There goes my hope of having her as mine.

< Point

2007-12-20T20:48:00.001-07:00

I'm reading a book entitled, "Microserfs," by Douglas Coupland. It's from the point of view of a Microsoft debugger working in the mid-1990s, when personal computers were assuming a position of dominance in the workforce and at home. It's about a nerd's quest to get a life, and find love. He has some fairly poignant and salient thoughts. Well, the author does. I'm going to quote a few things, and I hope I don't get sued or arrested or anything for praising this book.

"Do you remember that old TV series, Get Smart? You remember at the beginning where Maxwell Smart is walking down the secret corridor and there are all of those doors that open sideways, and upside down and gateways and stuff? I think that everybody keeps a whole bunch of doors just like this between themselves and the world. But when you're in love, all of your doors are open, and all of their doors are open. And you roller-skate down your halls together."

"...when you meet someone and fall in love, and they fall in love with you, you ask them, "Will you take my heart--stains and all?" and they say, "I will," and they ask you the same question, and you say, "I will," too."

I just think it's a good thought. And a good book.

~~\\||//~~

I've been thinking about the "Nymph or Shepherd" response. I haven't written it yet, but I've been thinking about it. Essentially, it's a "realist or romantic" issue, respectively. I was told by Ms. Parrish that I'm a romantic, and I don't doubt it for a second (you can tell just by looking at my most-played songs on my Winamp), but I do think that something has changed over the past few weeks. Currently I'm a Shepherd who's been changed (by some mysterious potion) into a nymph. I can't seem to see the good in a lot of things anymore. I kind of miss romantic me. The me that wrote really long, pointless, yet endlessly hopeful and romantic posts on this very blog. For example, Sterling Scholar. Romantic Me would've said, "Hey, this is cool, I'll get to be in the paper and I'll get money." Current Me says, "It's a lot of work, I'm not very qualified, and it's a paltry $1,000 (annual tuition and fees at USC amounts to about $43,000)."

Now listening to romantic songs justs gives me a case of the vice-heart and a sour taste in my mouth.

It's bad news, I tell you.

Yet, and I think I've said this before, I like this side of me. I like being depressed. It makes me feel... I don't know. Something I can't explain right now.

I don't know how to feel right now. I feel very... contradictory.

For example, I feel really pessimistic. On the other hand, a big part of me wants to write a sonnet cycle, like Ms. Parrish suggested. But I don't know if I feel "romantic" enough to pull it off. Though I do have a good start.

See? I'm messed up.

I guess I don't really have anything to complain about. Not according to everyone else. And yet, here I am, complaining.

I hope everyone gets my title.

I feel clever and stupid at the same time. I hate that.

I'm so sick of life, and I'm sick of being sick of it. Maybe this break will help. Who knows?

I think I'm going to try to do that sonnet cycle. I'm definitely not going to do hundreds... but maybe a few. To try it out.

You can almost always sum up my blog posts with "blah blah, my life sucks, blah blah." This one is not much of an exception.

Somebody open a window

2007-12-15T00:03:00.001-07:00

I haven't done this in a while.

Vented, that is.

A few people have told me that my blog posts aren't long enough. So maybe this one will be.

So what's up with me?

I just finished most of my college applications, and now the worst part begins--the waiting. It's going to be torture, waiting to see if I'm good enough. I can just imagine what'll happen if I get a rejection letter. I don't want to think about it...

Sterling Scholar is waaaaaaaaaaayy more work than it's worth. $43,000/year - $1,000 = not even a dent. It's like taking a ball peen hammer to the ISS.

School and everything is weighing heavily on me. Something's going on with me. It's wrong.

I just wrote the title to this post. I think it's clever. Nobody else will probably get it. But... well, segue!

I'm vague a lot of the time. I'm starting to think it's a bad thing. I might have described this before, but here's how my mind works:

It'll start off with something innocent enough, like, say, kittens, but my mind, making a series of leaps almost instantaneously can arrive at another conclusion, such as, say, Fidel Castro. (Speaking of which, Murray guy, you need to shave. Or take over Cuba.)

Hence, a lot of what I say doesn't make a lot of sense if you weren't privy to my thoughts. Which you aren't. Unless you've developed some crazy mind-reading device. But judging from the reactions of most people to what I say, they haven't, so I think I won't have to break out the tinfoil.

I think that maybe I should stop being so weird. But every time that I think that, I think that it's good to be weird, because it makes you unique, which can make you one of two things: popular, or an outcast. I still haven't figured out which one I am. I feel like both at the same time, if that's possible. The popular people let me hang out with them, but within that group, I'm the weirdo. I suppose I brought it on myself. And I can't really change. And I don't really want to.

I get some sick satisfaction out of being an outcast, a loner, and out of my own self-loathing. It makes me feel good to say bad things about myself. I don't know why. I don't know if it matters. People tell me I shouldn't, and I'm getting better about not fishing for compliments. I don't think I'll ever get used to people saying the things they say about me. My whole life I've been the awkward, unaccepted one, until pretty much this year. It's too much of an abrupt change. I can't deal very well. I've never dealt well with change.

Katie brought up an interesting point. She said, "Why do you feel like you have to make everyone around you feel better?" It's true, I do feel like that most of the time [unless I feel bitter, sarcastic, and like insulting someone, and even then I don't (usually) mean it.]. I don't know if there's a good answer to that question. I just feel like everyone should feel good about themselves because that's how I feel about them. I think everyone should like themselves. Except me. Weird, huh?

Maybe it's because I have been through that (or am currently going through that) and don't think that anyone deserves it. Maybe it's because I'm concerned about what people think about me and think that if I do that, they'll like me better. I don't know.

This is the longest post I've written in a while.

Sonnets are hard to write. Shakespeare, et. al., make them look easy. Stupid... people.

Another long story short: I shouldn't watch chick flicks. They just get my hopes up. Happy endings always seem so plausible in chick flicks. It seems like anybody can have one. If only that were true. Any kind of happy ending seems impossible right now. I know I've said this before, but... not here. Not now... maybe not ever.

Ah, don't listen to my rantings. Maybe I'll feel differently tomorrow, maybe not, either way, you don't know if I really believe everything that I've written here. Hell, neither do I.

I still don't think that's a swear word. In fact, in the right situation, it can be quite comical.

"My life sucks, blah blah, my life sucks." That's all it amounts to, isn't it? Ha...

Well, I hope I managed to kill a few of your minutes. Or at least maim them.

Sonnet 1

2007-12-12T20:38:00.001-07:00

I, a lonely birch, perched beneath the moon;
Thee, the dark-feathered sparrow in my branch
Doth twitter a pretty lamenting tune.
My trunk swells at the sound, and I do blanche,
My soul with glories that you doth impart.
My canopy-rustlings would fain augment
The wondrous strange song that bejailed my heart.
And in one magnificence, we two lament,
In light, join, and in seconds, part once more.
Thine own song lifts me, no longer with weight--
Zephyr, wafting the breeze that I unstore;
Nightingale, singing the pines to dream-state;
Alexander, a conquering machine;
Myself, more than I have before this been.

Short Thanks

2007-11-23T00:19:00.001-07:00

Family comes first.

I'm extremely thankful for all the support that my parents have shown me, especially through all this college application stuff. Even if I don't say it or show it as much as I should, I really do appreciate them and their efforts and their support. Thanks.

I'm thankful I live in America, despite all its shortcomings.

I'm thankful for stuff. Without stuff, life would be hard. We need stuff, but we need to not be so dependent on it. Like me. I'm not so good at that. But hey, I still like stuff.

I'm thankful for friends above almost everything. Without friends, I would be nothing. My friends, of which I've made so many this year, have been an invaluable support system, helping me when I need it, listening to my stupid jokes, and hanging out with me. Thanks to you all, I couldn't live without you, and though I don't say it very much, thanks, and I appreciate you. You're awesome.

Hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving!

Parting

2007-11-19T22:20:00.001-07:00

I was reading a really inspirational book, filled with all kinds of short stories and poems from very disparate authors, just a fun book to read, one of the few books I've read for pleasure in the past few months, and I came across this poem.

"So, We'll Go No More A-Roving"
--George Gordon, Lord Byron

So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

It got me thinking about graduation, something that's been much looming on my mind heavily these few months. I've wanted to write a song for choir for a while now, and I thought it would be awesome to write something for graduation. I know this probably isn't singable, or easily transferable to music, but this is what I came up with. If I do end up doing something for choir, this won't be it, but I do like it. So here it is.

"Parting Song"

Though the sun lies still in the East,
Still our day is done.
I know it seems unfair
That we feel unprepared
For the cold outside our hearth.
And though I'd rather linger
A-while here with you
Yet must I go to catch Fate,
And ring in the new day
And though you'd rather stay
And make new memories,
Yet must we live;
And life cares not for friendship,
For bonds grown strong and true,
But barrels boldly onward,
No heed to Love or Laugh;
And so must we follow,
O'er mountain, through briar
To the place where our
One Fate lies, a-sleep,
Encircled by flames
And though we defy gods
And brave greed
And conquer Death
And win glory
To reach merciful Fate
(And we be content,
And be merry our long days),
We will remember these hours
Spent among the flowers,
Nights under the moon,
Years of happy company,
Moments of storm-clouds;
Yes, we will think on Youth
And Folly, and Wisdom;
We will think on Youth,
And rejoice.

So when the autumn comes
Too early, and the leaves fall
Before you are ready,
Then (and before, but especially Then)
Think of Youth, and of
Love, Laughter, Heroes, Villains, Lessons
Classrooms, Adventures, Games, Loves,
Me, though the years intervene,
And rejoice.

Funk

2007-11-12T22:22:00.001-07:00

I'm in a funk.

Not the good kind of funk, like the music.

The kind of funk where nothing's happening, physically, socially, productively, or emotionally.

I'm a pool of stagnant water.

I've watched everyone around me fly by and progress while I just sit here.

I hate pools.

Harold

2007-10-29T00:13:00.001-06:00

There once was a Bunny.

This Bunny lived in the Forest of Green with all his brothers and sisters. This Bunny's name was Harold.

They were happy in their Warren and had many feasts--tables were laden with acorns, carrots, celery, lettuce, seed, radishes, and every other kind of vegetable they could possibly want, all grown wild in the Forest, and leaves of the freshest water, taken from the Everlasting Pool at the bottom of the Glade of Plenty. They feasted underground, in the shade of the Three Great Trees--the Great Ash, Great Willow, and Great Oak.

It was in the middle of one of these feasts, on a mid-autumn's eve, amidst the weekly Tale of Boris the Elder, the chief of the Warren, that the Wolf attacked.

It had scented out the Bunnies from the Glade and had tracked them down to their Warren. The Wolf dug through the Warren until he reached the feast-room with an earthquake and avalanche of dirt. The Bunnies froze, surprised in their mirth and festivities. Boris the Elder was the first taken. The Wolf tossed his limp form away and began tearing into the other Bunnies.

Harold ran quickly away, taking as many of the young Buns as he could find with him, to a safe place underneath the roots of the Great Ash.

The Bunnies could do nothing against the terrible power of the Wolf and his tearing teeth and slashing claws, and all who gazed into his terrible eyes knew death.

When the Wolf had sated his hunger, he said to the frightened survivors, "I will be back, little dishes, for dinner once more, for your bodies are small and lean of meat. I hunger soon. Fear the night." And then the Wolf bounded into the dark.

Harold and the Buns came from their hiding place under the Great Ash, and were greeted by a sight of carnage. One-third of the Bunnies of the Warren had been eaten or torn to shreds. The other Bunnies had succeeded in hiding, but all had lost family in the fray. Harold's own father had been among the slain.

There was a hasty meeting held several days later, after proper respects had been given and the dead had been buried underneath the Great Willow.

Many of the Bunnies were frightened beyond reason and were preparing to run away, leaving behind the Warren and hoping to outrun the Wolf and build anew.

Harold shouted the most aggressive of the advocates down, and commanded the attention of all the Bunnies and Buns.

"We all have suffered a great loss," said Harold. "We all have lost family members and friends. We have even lost our great Chief, Boris the Elder. So, having lost all this, what have we more to lose? You propose that we run away, abandoning our perfect home that provides us with all we need, because one Wolf attacked us? You are not willing to fight for our way of life? I call you cowards. I would gladly give my life so that any Bunny could live in this perfect Forest, near these Three Great Trees. Will you not join me, rebuild, and defeat the Wolf? Will you not protect our Forest with your lives? Will you not fight?"

The Bunnies let loose a resounding cheer and whoop, and the walls of the Warren shook with their joy and grief and defiance.

Harold led the reconstruction of the Warren, rebuilding the walls and rooms that had been destroyed by the Wolf's tunnel. After all was as new again, the Bunnies began to build their weapons. They built spears, catapults to fling acorns with, and swords from the hard wood of the Great Oak. They built, and they trained, and they waited.

One clear night when the Sky Bunny shown at full strength, a sleek form ran through the darkness towards the Warren.

The Bunnies lay in wait for the Wolf. As he neared, the catapults were loosed. He barreled on through, though a few projectiles made a direct hit on his nose and made his eyes water.

Then the spears were thrown. Though the Bunny spears were small to the Wolf, and each was like a pinprick, the Wolf felt a thousand pinpricks that night, and the Bunnies even hit his tail, which made the Wolf sorely mad.

The Wolf still bore on, and made it past the first Great Tree, into the Bunnies' clearing. The Wolf stopped short--he was faced by two thousand Bunny Knights, and at the front, thunder in his face, was Harold. They held their swords high and cried, "For the Three!" and charged.

The Wolf, faced by this onslaught, did the only thing a predatory creature could do when faced with an organized attack by his usually defenseless prey: He turned tail and ran.

More spears and acorns were thrown, and even a few swords, and as soon as the Bunnies were sure that the Wolf was gone and would never come back, they threw off their weapons and rejoiced, for their Warren and Three and Forest were saved.

And a great feast was thrown, and Harold was made chief of the whole Warren, by a unanimous vote, and the Bunnies lived in the shade of the Three for all time, and the night never frightened them again.

West Coast Dreams

2007-10-07T23:03:00.001-06:00

Box up your gloves and your down coats
Bound for the sun and the west coast
Where upper crust tragedies abound

--"Where There's Gold...," Dashboard Confessional

That's basically me. Here are me, not necessarily going off to the west coast, but going somewhere. Somewhere I don't know anything about, somewhere I don't know anyone, somewhere where everything will be new and I'll be completely alone.

I think I'm the least courageous amongst my friends, and I'm going the farthest away and it's really scary.

I really wish sometimes that I weren't leaving, that what I want didn't entail me going several thousand miles away from everything I've known. But that's life. Life is change. Everything will change. I would've moved away at some point, I'm sure, knowing me. I was never meant to live my life in one valley, nor one state.

But more importantly, I think that the reason why I'm moving away is the change in myself.

I don't really like myself. Anyone who knows me can attest to that fact. I think that this move will be a great chance for me to change what I don't like. It won't be major things, but it will be change, and for the better.

Besides, it's not like I'm going to lose contact with everyone immediately. We'll definitely keep in touch, as much as our schedules (and time zone differences) allow.

I will definitely keep everyone apprised of my goings on in the far-off world of college-land through this wonderful medium known as blogging, and (hopefully) remain active on messenger and... I don't know, stuff. Probably not e-mail, as I'm notoriously bad at reading my e-mail (though I do tend to read e-mail that aren't forwards from my parents, so go ahead and give it a go).

The end.

Epic

2007-09-28T17:03:00.001-06:00

I was looking through some old posts of mine, and I found this list. It's from a post entitled Happily Ever After, and I believe it's one of my best posts. Certainly one of my most memorable. Anyway, the list is reproduced in its entirety here. Because I feel like it. It's made up of what I'd do for a girl. Well, a girl I really liked.

Slay a dragon.
Find a cup. A gold cup.
Depose an evil king.
Move the earth.
Jump in radioactive waste, get superpowers, and save her from the falling rocks. If that failed, I'd turn back time to save her.
Give my life.
Foil a nefarious scheme, stop the bad guy, and stop the swinging pendulum axe.
Save her from a crazy man with a half-burnt face, even if she loved him more.
Save her from Bluto.
Beat up a giant turtle, after traversing mountains, caves, clouds, and castles.
Never be deserving of a divorce.
Save her from the wrath of my father, who got burned in that volcano.
Dress up in a turtle suit and save her from muggers.
Kiss her, and awake her from a deep slumber brought on by an evil witch.
Just kiss her.
Take her on the vacation of her dreams.
Endeavor to be the best provider, father, and husband I could be.
Share the housework.
Be there for her whenever she needs me, and never to put other concerns in front of her.
Change in (almost) any way she wanted me to.
Destroy the One Ring.
Give up immortality.
Give her better days.
Give her everything I had.
Leave if she wanted me to.

So, seeing that list again made me realize that even though that was about a year ago, and a lot (believe me, a lot) has happened since then, I still feel pretty much the same way. I think every guy should make a list like this. It helps him think about who he is as a person. I like to think I'm a good person. I don't know if I'd have the courage to do everything on this list, but they say that love gives you courage. I guess she can only hope it does the same for me.

I'm all about the Epic. Anyone who knows me knows that. When I do something, I don't do it half-heartedly. I go full on, I go above and beyond. As a result, unfortunately, sometimes things don't get done that should.

However, I have big dreams. Dreams that I like to think will come true some day.

If Martin Luther King's dream can come true, why not mine?

Granted, I'd have to be willing to be martyred for some of these dreams to come true. Maybe not literally, though. Maybe just psychologically, emotionally, socially. That wouldn't be so bad, I think I could handle that.

I've said this before, but I want to die a good death.

I don't really want to die of old age, or some disease. I want to die saving a kitten from a semi, a clarinet from a forest fire, a baby from a ravine, my gal from a monster. I want an Epic death. The death that makes you really sad the guy is dead, but you also feel really good inside, because you know he didn't die for nothing, and that his death left a lot of good in the world.

Everything about me is Epic (haha, not really, but I like to think so). Everything about everyone should be Epic. I think the world could use a lot more heroes. Without heroes, without big dreams, without causes, without Epic, the world is a lot worse place. I think right now we're in a hero depression. Like the Great Depression, but with heroes. I think we need someone (probably several someones) to pull the world out of the quagmire it's in. I don't think I'll be one of those people, but there are a lot more potential heroes out there, I see them every day at school. You know who you are.

So, Godspeed, heroes. Save us all.

Excerpt #2

2007-09-26T23:19:00.001-06:00

If I do enough of these, maybe I'll finish soon.

Swallowed in the Sea - Coldplay

This is one of those really nice lyrical songs. The ones that slow it way down and take a look around and make sure that everything's where it's supposed to be. The reason I love this song is partly because of it's lyrics and partly because of Chris Martin's fantastic voice and synthesizer work.

Lyric highlights:

" You cut me down a tree
And brought it back to me
And that's what made me see
Where I was going wrong"

" You cut me down to size
And opened up my eyes
Made me realize
What I could not see"

"And I could write a song
A hundred miles long"

"You belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea"

To me, it's an anthem about we get so overwhelmed sometimes that we can't see what we're doing, and we need to take a step or two back and examine ourselves. In the end, I love Coldplay.

Excerpt

2007-09-24T23:34:00.001-06:00

An excerpt (read: the only one I've thought about so far) from my Soundtrack:

"The Swiss Army Romance" - Dashboard Confessional

It's not necessarily the meaning of the words, it's the meaning of the title. (Although the words, to me, mean that you have to be true to yourself and not get pressured into stuff you don't want to do.) I'm not saying I have or will have a swiss army romance, but I'd sure like one. I want a romance that has everything. Just when you think you've seen everything, a corkscrew pops out and surprises you. That would be ideal.

Captain Planet and the Planeteers

2007-09-23T23:18:00.001-06:00

With your powers combined, I am Captain Planet!

Faces

2007-09-20T21:03:00.001-06:00

Faces
The leaves fall
From the boughs
As my heart pounds
Feeling like it could stop
With the slightest touch

Yet the faces in the moon
Tell me she needs me
So I hold her until
The last tear falls
To the ground

Bleh

2007-09-19T23:28:00.000-06:00

Whenever I'm sick, I'm a jerk.

This is an axiom that you can all count on.

It's true right now.

I apologize in advance for whatever harm I may do you emotionally.

My bad.

Try to avoid me altogether if you can.

Music

2007-09-16T23:45:00.002-06:00

Music has a profound effect on people. Motifs can stay with you for years, inspiring you a long time after the first hearing.

Those are accepted truths.

The only real question, then, is do humans assign meaning to music? Or does music have an inherent meaning?

I believe the answer is the latter. Allow me to explain.

I believe that the Earth has been around for a lot longer than humans have. Birds sang before we developed the complicated thought processes we possess now. Brooks burbled. Rain fell. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed.

Along came men.

As the poets and the writers and the painters and philosophers used their mediums to convey the beauty of nature and human nature and existence, so did the musicians.

The musician attempts to translate what is untranslateable. The musician turns birdsong into marks on a page, the thunder into a stick beating a hide, the brook into a bow drawn across strings, attempts to bring the rain into the concert hall.

For the most part, musicians fail.

As audience members, we applaud, not for the rain, not for the bird, but for the idea of the rain, of the bird. We applaud the fact that as humans, we can attempt these civilized transformations of the incontrovertible truth that is nature.

No musician, no matter how talented, can truly capture the wind, the rain.

Yet we build our cages not only for nature, but for ourselves. Music seeks to capture also the qualities of human nature.

As humans, we seek to define ourselves. What other way to do this than by defining that which makes us human?

So what does make us human? To name a few:

Bravery
Fear
Sadness
Friendship
Integrity

Yet over all these attributes, what is the most important? Mankind seems to have deemed Love, that undefinable word, as the definition of humanity.

So musicians seek to show through their art what humans are.

In this, I believe that musicians have been more successful. For while we can never truly grasp nature, that which we are a part of, but are not, we are certainly better at catching that which we are, for we are the ones who have defined it.

Music is not the ears through which we hear the world, but the ears through which we hear ourselves describing the world.

Livin' LArge

2007-08-20T22:36:00.001-06:00

Get it? Like L.A.? Yeah... I know... I won't do it again.

I missed out on this opportunity the last time, so I'm taking it.

That's right, I'm posting on my blog from the City of Angels.

From the bad part of town.

I'm a daredevil.

~

I wrote that in Los Angeles, the City of Angels, a few nights ago.

I'm not feeling so funny tonight.

There's something about a road trip that just puts you in a bad mood.

Or maybe just puts me in a bad mood.

It's a vague anger or displeasure with the world.

You feel that old familiar heart-squeeze, the tightening as if there's a vice where your lungs are and they're squeezing the life out of you slowly, maybe shortening your lifespan by a few years if you experience it enough.

Maybe that's my curse. Maybe I'll be one of those few-but-not-too-few. Those who die of a broken heart. I sure feel like this often enough.

As I sit here, staring with glassed-over eyes at the dreary Utah "skyline" at almost one in the morning, not used to the darkness yet, nor the bright spears of light that reach my eyes, headlights and neon signs and whatever-the-hell else, I can't help but be depressed and angry.

Angry at myself for feeling this way, for being so stupid when I should just be sleeping, seeing as how I have to work at about noon tomorrow, and I'll have jet-lag and who knows what else, only I suppose it won't be jet-lag because I haven't been in a jet, I've driven in a car for the past thirteen hours, minus one or two here or there.

Sipping bland Dr. Pepper from a Wendy's cup that I resent holding, staring out at this fake world we put ourselves in gladly, for the most part not questioning its polyurethane qualities.

The shops, the restaurants, the shopping malls, the football games, the products, the toys, the flashing neon lights, the strip clubs, the casinos, these are all that is pretend in America.

We delude ourselves into thinking that this is our real life.

Still thirty miles outside of Salt Lake City, and I wish it were one.

The homeless, the sewers, the underground, the death-dealers, drug-dealers, sex-dealers, and dealer-dealers, the crime, the heroes, this is America.

We aren't what we eat. We scarf down hamburgers that taste as plastic as they look in the television adverts, wear clothes that are made of more man-made fabrics than true cotton, work in strip malls that are built on top of what was once a park, drive around downtown, turning a blind eye to the real people of America, the homeless and indigent poor, not begging but pleading for assistance and knowing in their heart of hearts that they will not receive it from Americans.

We look like what we eat, or at least present that image to ourselves and to the rest of the world. We present the image of movie stars, of perfection, of natural beauty, obtained unnaturally.

These thoughts and more spring unbidden to my weary head, my eyes that should be tired yet somehow aren't staring at the unending-please-God-make-it-stop stretch of pavement and its series of painted solid and dashed lines that keep America moving in some semblance of order.

Only a few more miles to go.

And we wish life was as simple as the songs, listening to them over and over again, hoping and wishing with all our hearts and our souls that once, just once, it would be easy, come out like we wanted. But as Gary says, "You gotta be more than hoping it's right."

Aptly put.

It's amazing how much of American society and action is put together because of appearance. Even this blog is an appearance. I want to appear good for my friends, and to strangers I don't know, and so I write down things that I think will make me look good.

Well, right now, I don't care about that so much. You can hate me all you want. Right now, that might even be better. You can hate me for saying things you'd rather not think about.

As a society, we have a running joke that all artists are bleeding hearts. We all want to save the environment, have some cause that we invest ourselves in. I haven't chosen mine yet, I don't know if I have one.

But what else is there? Without cause, without purpose, without a charity, a job we love, a family we love, what else is there to life but despair and a grave at the end? Not much. That's why suicide exists. Loss of purpose, so why would you want to suffer blindly through all that despair before coming to the grave when you could have the grave now?

I think I've reached that half-delirious state that comes from a combination of sleep deprivation and emotional turmoil/stress/nerves.

I know I shouldn't, and I know I won't later, but I feel totally worthless and insignificant.

Whenever I'm talking to people about my feelings, trying to explain them, they try to make me feel better. I really do appreciate the efforts, but I'm a fisher. I deny and deny and deny, trying to make you say great things about me so I can not necessarily feel better about myself, but feel better about how you feel about me. It's pathetic, it's worthless, it's disgusting, it's contemptable. If I were me, I'd hate me.

But for tonight, at least, I'm not me. I'm sitting in me, like an impostor, a bug wearing a human skin, looking out through multifaceted eyes, seeing everything, wishing that I didn't.

Only one.75 miles now. And how the time flew. I might have thrown it, I can't remember.

I shall have to unpack soon. I hate unpacking. I believe I will post this before I get my (belated) sleep, however. If anyone wants to read it. Bug says they will. Me says they won't. Me is just fishing again. So I hope you had fun reading these scattered thoughts of a madman on a road trip. Comment, as I know you invariably will. I'll go to bed, as sane humans must invariably do if they hope to remain sane.

~

Morning after, here I am, don't feel too much better.

But I'm posting it anyway.

Hooray.

Bank Account

2007-08-16T00:25:00.001-06:00

This post is going to be some good old-fashioned pontificating.

I think that word came from "pontiff," which is another word for the Pope. I wonder if it's because some pope did a lot of pontificating. If so, I like to think he did it while on the john.

Because that would just be hilarious.

School starts soon. In less than two weeks, in fact. How do I feel about that? Well, I'm mostly happy with my schedule... pretty disappointed that I can't take creative writing... Okay, really disappointed. But hey, Jaron will give me all the assignments.

Right?

Right.

Isn't deja vu the weirdest feeling ever? Whenever I get it, it's... well, here's how it happens.

Usually, when I get deja vu, it's a single image, a snapshot. Usually these snapshots come from dreams I had a long time ago, up to a couple of years.

Imagine the world as a movie going along... I have a dream, it shows me a screenshot from the future, and when I get there, the image clicks for one microsecond, and then it's gone.

That happened to me today. It feels so.... disconcerting. It just rips you out of reality and makes you relive that dream for an instant.

It seems like a lot of people are dreading school, but there's only one part of this coming year that I'm actually afraid of.

Graduating.

None of us have any idea what will happen after graduation, and I have a pretty good notion that we're all petrified by the thought of it. Even though most of us aren't moving that far away from home, me being the only exception I really know about.

So as terrified as you might be about graduation, you could have it worse. You could be me. You could be moving a ten-hour drive away from everything that you've ever known for the first 17 years of your life to a strange town that's absolutely nothing like the one you're leaving, and nowhere near as sheltered.

I'm not sure how I feel about my friends' decisions on where to go to college. I guess a lot of them are based on faith. They believe that "good" Mormons don't leave Utah or something. Maybe that's just my conjecture. But it seems like a lot of people I know are afraid to take the chance of leaving Utah. Some of them cite money as an obstacle, but for a lot of them, getting money for college would be absolutely no problem for any of them. I'm actually kind of mad at some of them. I've known for a while now I would be going out of state.

Some people I know know what field they want to go in and they've selected a college in state because it offers one of the best programs in their chosen field. Most of them have no clue what they're going to do and have picked an in-state college because it's easy and they're scared.

And honestly, that makes me mad. So many people I know could make so much more out of themselves if they wanted to take that step and go out of Utah for college. I know you might not see it as worthy, but you only have one chance at college, really. It's kind of like high school in that way. I don't see life as something you should take for granted, go to the closest, cheapest college and get some crappy job you hate and live in the same town you were born and raised in. I can actually see that happening to a lot of my friends, and it makes me sad.

I see life as a bank account. Everything you do is an investment towards your future. Everything you put into your life is going to be worth more as time goes on, just like interest. (Thank you, Mr. Kaelin.)

High school is a $10,000 deposit! It's the hugest thing we've done towards deciding our future (read: retirement) so far! It's really freaking important!

Okay, so high school is really really really really really REALLY important!!!!!

College is so important, if I told you how important it was, your head would explode.

College is a $1,000,000,000 deposit, straight in your bank account for life.

We're going to be earning interest on college for the rest of our lives. If you want to make a crappy deposit and earn not so much interest and live a dead-end life, that's your choice.

Me, I'm taking that billion dollars and investing it in something worthwhile: Me.

I'm grabbing life by the short hairs and yanking hard.

Sorry if my extended metaphor (conceit, thank you, Mrs. Parrish/Wikipedia) confused you. It made perfect sense to me. If you're confused about anything, feel free to ask me. I'd be glad to rant at you for a substantial period of time.

Good night all. Good pontificating with you.

The Perfect Crime #2

2007-08-12T00:31:00.001-06:00

The conclusion to something I'm not sure anyone read. So... I don't know if you'll even care about it. But here it is anyway.

The Perfect Crime Part 2
He stumbled up and ran
His feet catching the ground
His accomplices trailing
Most were tumbled, brought down

The getaway car was gone
The plan in a shambles
The casino patrons, curious
Were shepherded back to gamble

He was forced to his knees
Hands locked behind his head
His perfect plan had failed him
He would be better off dead

He was tossed in the squad car
Unceremoniously
He had assumed it would work
Erroneously

He woke from his daydream
His work pressing in
Even in his fantasies
He just couldn't win

The Perfect Crime

2007-08-08T00:09:00.001-06:00

(8) A shot rings out from somewhere upstairs ... (8)

Everybody loves The Decemberists. And if you don't, I don't really want to have anything to do with you. Well, I mean... I guess, if I had to. But seriously.

Please excuse my rip-off of their titles. I just love 'em so much, this is like a little tribute. Well... there's a little deviation. They use #1 and #2, while I use Part One, and Part Two, and maybe some other parts beside, I haven't really decided yet. This is my process: I make it up as I go along.

The Perfect Crime Part One
He needed it done right
So he went to the right places
Which you would say were wrong
But he covered all his bases

He hired the murderers, thieves, and fences
The rapists, ex-convicts, planners, and dreamers
A crack hand-picked team of finaglers and crooks
Greedies, grumblies, old folks, and schemers

He set them to work on an intricate plan
That involved treachery and deception
And then he set them to gathering their tools
So the plan would proceed past its inception

He had his plan, and his blueprints
And the banks were none the wiser
He had paid off the crooked managers
And the mob boss, a filthy miser

And the crime had begun
With a boom and a flash
And the vault was opened
With a bang and a crash

He smirked with delight
The perfect crime, he thought
As the alarm went off
And they dashed not to be caught

All my plans are for nothing
His last thought wound
As the shot rang out
And he fell to the ground

A Poem

2007-08-05T00:57:00.001-06:00

Every poet writes
His or her love sonnet
Or haiku
Or plain ol' free verse
In his or her time
And they talk about
The color of your
Hair and how it makes the
Other girls look pale in
Comparison. Pale like your
Deathly white skin
They talk about your
Green or blue or brown or black or hazel or white or gray or purple
Eyes and they say that they are
Pools or some other such nonsense metaphor
And they talk of your laugh
Which is like unto a babbling
Brook and seems to go on forever
And of your smile which could, and has
Killed a (lesser) man or boy
And your lips that are pillows
And extremely kissable
And your form that would make Time
In his Robe and Staff and Hourglass jealous
And so I was about to join them
And I even started it
And I'm writing it right now
But I realized that you
Are a poem
So anything I could write
Would be pointless
And it wouldn't be
Good enough for you
Anyway
And so it ends

RE: I can't keep a deadline

2007-07-29T22:13:00.001-06:00

So, wow, I suck at being timely. Remember back in May I totally took requests for stories or whatever to write? And then I only did one of them? Yeah. That was awesome. Here's me following through on my request. The original post and requests are here. The first completed request is here. These will probably be short because I'm limited on time and... well, frankly, desire to write these. No offense, I won't compromise quality because of my feelings. Here I go.

Request #2: Nathan says: "My ego demands a writing about Nathan Cunningham. My common sense says no. But have you ever seen me use common sense? ;-P"

No. No, I haven't.

Nathan Cunningham woke up late. As usual. Nathan quickly got up and dressed. He made sure to dress nicely in one of his best suits. Then he began to eat breakfast. Nathan usually liked to eat a lot of meat with his breakfast. You see, it was his obligation, as the word "ham" was right there in his last name. Obviously, he was meant to be a carnivore.

Nathan then combed his hair. It wasn't hard, it just involved a quick brushdown and a short, sad glance at his growing bald spot. Then Nathan brushed his teeth. That didn't take long, but he was careful to do it the whole two minutes; one of the prizes for being cavity-free for six months was a small LEGO set that he didn't own yet.

Nathan hopped in his truck and drove to the interview. It was, he admitted to himself, the scariest thing he had ever done, but he wouldn't ever admit that to anyone else.

Nathan parked his truck in some shade and walked into the university. He found his way easily to the office of the Dean of Admissions, and was directed to the office of the assistant to the Dean of Admissions who would be interviewing him.

Nathan decided that it would probably be best if he did not refer to himself in the third person during this interview.

Rachel says: "Ooh. Write a fiction from the POV of an animal. Like, a household animal. Cat, dog, snake, bird, something cool. From their POV."

Alright. Your wish is my command. *sigh* Kidding. Kinda.

Sniff. Sniff.

Spike's humans had opened the food-box.

Spike ran quickly to the food-box and stuck his nose in the crack. He could smell it, the meat, the fruit, the milk, the... oh... peanut butter...

At this intoxicating scent, Spike's saliva glands lost all control and started working on overdrive. He was not entirely surprised when a carrot was pushed through the crack at him. He loved the sweet things, but was slightly saddened it wasn't peanut butter.

Spike was picking up human quickly. Dogs are not nearly as stupid as they made themselves seem. Oh, they lacked the ability to speak, but they could sure understand, or at least learn.

Spike ate his carrot. He waited a few minutes. Then he ran to the back door and wagged his tail frantically. The humans took the hint, and let him out. He escaped through the tunnel behind the shed and ran off. It was time for the weekly Society for the Overthrow and Destruction of Humans by Dogs, the True Masters of the World meeting.

Oy. I'm done for tonight. I'm going to bed. Well, not now, sometime.

Happy

2007-07-28T00:32:00.001-06:00

Life is so cool.

Things get bad periodically.

You had a bad day, you broke up with your girlfriend, your cat died in a terrible litter-related incident, your hair didn't do what you wanted to (girls, this one's for you), you had a fight with your best friend, you screwed up something real bad, you got in a car accident, work was really hard, someone made you mad, or maybe you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

So, yes, things do get bad on occasion.

I know I've had bad days, probably more than my fair share.

But that's where "life is cool" comes in.

Granted, things get bad. Life sucks. But it always gets better.

If you let it.

You have to want to have a good day, you have to want to not care about your girlfriend, you have to realize you're better off without that cat, realize that nobody cares what your hair looks like, and if they do, they're not really your friend.

You've gotta want it.

And if you want it enough, it's true for you.

But if there's one thing life doesn't like, it's fake happy.

If you're not really happy, but you're pretending to be, life knows it, and so it doesn't let you be happy until you want to be happy.

I hope that makes sense, because it does to me.

So, hooray for life, and its mercy to let us be happy.

Arrr.

Avast, life, prepare to be boarded.

Lessons

2007-07-25T01:57:00.002-06:00

Well, I guess I don't need my Courage anymore.

It's comforting to know that I had it, though.

When you look at it, what is life about?

Is it about the experiences, the people, the things, the goals?

No...

It's about the lessons.

Life chucks a bunch of lessons at us, disguised in the form of some kind of experience. Every experience you have in your life is a lesson you need to learn to make you a better person.

Nobody's going to tell you it isn't hard.

Nobody's going to tell you it doesn't hurt like hell.

But they're all going to say that it's worth it in the end.

And I guess that's the true test of our character. If we really want to be a better person, if we really want to be closer to God, we have to go through hell and brimstone and all that the world has to throw at us.

And hopefully, we can say that the fire cleansed us, and it made us a better person.

That's all we can really hope to be in this world.

But isn't that good enough? To be better?

I think so.

Courage

2007-07-23T00:38:00.001-06:00

There's a lot that's been scaring me lately.

One is the future, and my place in it. What am I going to do in the future that's going to benefit anyone? Am I going to be the lonely hobo in the background who never does anything, lives a normal, yet happy life, and then shambles silently off into oblivion? Or will I choose to be something more, a skyscraper among men, taking my place in history beside the other great achievers?

I like to think the latter.

Another is college. This is probably all the seniors' biggest fear, or one of them, and I think it's justifiably so. College is big and scary, the institution that all high school teachers warn will eat us alive, probably in an attempt to persuade us to become high school teachers and suffer the same misery that they do.

Applying to these colleges is one of the most terrifying things I've ever done. Honestly.

Another is girls. It's probably a stupid thing to worry about in the circumstances, but it deserves a place high up there, and if this were in order of importance or frequency on my mind, this topic would probably be number one.

Girls confound me. Every time I try to understand something about them, it seems to take me farther and farther away from the truth. Try as I might, I can fathom no logic or reason from their actions, nor pattern or rhythm.

I've practically given up.

But.... I've always kind of had this feeling that guys aren't supposed to understand girls. And from what I hear, girls are just as confused about guys as we are about you. So, maybe it's... I don't know, how it's supposed to be. And maybe the point of everything is the chase.

The journey in the myths is often more important to the hero than the actual reward or end to the quest. It's where the hero undergoes most of his changes, and becomes his true self, and accepts his destiny.

Maybe this is like that. Maybe we're supposed to revel in the chase, and never actually reach our goal.

Maybe we just get sidetracked by this thing called "love" somewhere along the way and give up the chase, because we've got what we need.

Or maybe this thing called "love" is the end of the chase. Maybe once we've found it, there's no real reason to go searching for the cause or idea or reason behind it.

~~~

Something else I've been thinking really hard about is Courage.

Courage, to me is defined thusly: Doing what you know to be right in the face of something that scares you to death.

I've made a choice.

My choice is to be a better person.

I think I know how to do that.

So, this is what I know to be right.

Yet the thought of what I know I must do terrifies me.

Absolutely petrifies me.

I feel inadequate.

I feel unprepared.

I feel... just... unsure.

I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen.

That doesn't happen very often.

And it terrifies me.

But at the same time, I'm excited.

Jumping into the unknown, which I know less about than most.

Despite all the best counsel (thanks, anyway, Chris), I've made this decision, and I'm sticking with it.

I just hope I can find out if I have Courage.

By the way, this is post number 150, but I felt that Courage was more appropriate. I don't put too much stock in numbers, anyway.

I guess somebody will have to tell me. I always assume the worst about myself, you know me.

Well... usually.

Change is in the wind, friends. This summer has brought a lot of changes to us all.

Some people think that this is bad.

I think it's the best possible thing. If we're going to survive out there in that big bad world, we've got to adapt to it, because it certainly won't change to accommodate us.

So you've got to decide -- are you going to embrace the change, or are you going to stay the same?

I've chosen my path -- it's up to you to choose yours.

Good night, friends, and safe journeys.

Spicy

2007-07-20T00:16:00.001-06:00

I don't post here too much. I don't post here enough.

My post count for 2007 so far is in the mid-30s. That's pretty sad.

So, in an endeavor to spice things up a bit, I'm talking about things I don't normally talk about in this blog.

Even though it's called "A Clarinetist's Tale," there hasn't been much, if any, mention about my clarinet playing in this blog.

Well, that's going to change.

I recently changed clarinet teachers. I studied with Al Badham since eighth grade, and honestly, he taught me a lot and I don't regret a minute of it, but it was time for a change.

I'm now studying with Lee Livengood, the third clarinetist and bass clarinetist for the Utah Symphony, and president of the International Clarinet Association.

In the few short months I've been taking lessons with him, it feels like I'm a whole new clarinetist. I feel like I've made really drastic progress in the last few weeks especially.

My playing feels a lot smoother now, and I think I sound a lot better.

I'm currently studying C.M. von Weber's Concerto No. 1 in F Minor, a bunch of Klose scale studies, and the Rose 32 Etudes, for you classical music-philes out there, though I don't think there are any of you who read my blog. I don't know if I know of any other classical music-philes, actually, except maybe Billy. And he doesn't count.

Sorry, Billy, you're not the Chosen One.

Anyone who gets that deserves a pat on the back and a high five for visiting the Alliance.

I plan on borrowing Jaron's voice recorder to record myself playing the Weber 1 and, if I think it's good enough and people want to hear it, I'll put it up here. That's right, the very first time anyone besides my parents and Jason will have heard me play. Epic.

Well, I'm about out of non-girl related things to say, so I'll just do one more thing.

The Alliance is back and it's actually in fuller force than it ever was. Weekly Roundups have started again, and will actually be moved to a better time of the week than Wednesdays, sorry about that, folks. We're definitely trying a lot harder this time around, and everyone's posting lots of good quality content. It's going to work this time. I have a feeling.

So, go visit the Alliance. Tell your friends. Tell them to tell their friends. It'll be a party.

You know, I'm going to end this post like Chris, 'cause I'm feeling pretty darn good tonight.

The future looks good, friends, and the stars are coming out. I think everything's going to be okay. In fact, everything's going to be great.

Happy 12:30 AM, everybody, and a happy Friday, July 20, and here's to a happy tomorrow.

Good night, friends, keep those chins up.

1:51 AM

2007-07-18T00:07:00.001-06:00

Wow.

It's been a long time since I've done a straight update post.

Bask in it while you can.

How are things in the life of Nick Morandi?

Well, today I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I watched a lot of TV, practiced (when I say this word, it is pretty safe to assume that I mean the clarinet), did the dishes, helped with dinner, and trust me, that's really nothing.

Oh, and don't forget the violent videogames.

"All I heard was the shout
Of your brother calling me out
And you ran, like a fool, to my side

Well, the shot, it hit hard
And your frame went limp in my arms
And an oath of love was your dying cry"

"O Valencia!" is a really good song. It's definitely the song for this week, maybe even the past month. Anyone who is ignorant of this song is obliged, nay, required! to go watch the music video and dare to tell me otherwise.

Also available is the 9-minute-and-change-long Director's Cut that is, well, really long and a whole lot sadder than the original. Viewers beware: if you don't like sad endings, this one is REALLY not for you.

I've lately (today, the past few hours) been on a search of new bands, and my search has yielded some fantastic results.

I checked out some Guster, on Megan's suggestion from a while back, and found that they're actually really awesome. I like their songs a lot. Here's a few: One Man Wrecking Machine, Satellite, C'Mon.

This week's been a thinking one for me.

The future, as a teenager, is probably the most important thing on my mind right now.

I can't help thinking about college. College has always been really exciting to me. I've never wanted anything more than to go to college ever since, like, 9th grade.

Wanna know something really scary?

I started applying to USC tonight, via the interweb. It's really easy, but it feels terrifying. Like I'm acknowledging that the first period of my life is ending. Which, basically, is what I'm doing. And honestly, that's a horrifying prospect.

Also, something else that really worries me about the future, as anyone who knows me can attest, is girls.

Girls are a really important part of any normal guy's life, as milk is an important part of a healthy breakfast.

(Note to self: put milk on grocery list. Also see if you can get a girl at Costco.)

Teenagers are insane, honestly.

We spend so much of our time thinking about the opposite sex. At least, I do. I bet at least 70% of my brainpower (at night, my greatest thinking period, at least) is devoted to thinking about girls, and even with all that cogitating, I don't understand more about girls the next day than I did the last night.

Girls need to not be so complicated. Honestly, shape it up.

I'm totally kidding. If girls weren't complicated, there wouldn't be that attraction. That... mystery.

Stupid girls. Why must you be so attractive?

Just kidding. Don't stop being attractive, I'd be really sad.

Well, I'm about out of things to say, and seeing as how it's almost 2 am, I should probably be going to bed... soon... ish. 'Night.

Introduction to a Story

2007-07-16T14:33:00.002-06:00

*Side note: This was posted first and foremost on the Alliance. I'm beginning a slow transition (and I hope my fellow Allies will join me) to the point where all of my creative output--writing, pictures, drawings, music, what-have-you--are all located mainly on the Alliance. I believe that if we can do this, then the Alliance will build up a hearty community, which is the first step in our plan of world domination. I mean, um... being awesome.

/end side note

The story you are currently reading, or would be reading if the author (that’s me) had not chosen to insert an introduction, complete with the lower case Roman numerals instead of normal page numbers, is old. That is, you have heard it before. Not to say that story is not worth the time it will take to read it. That is to say… well, I believe you get the point.

This is a story of good versus evil. It is the classic tale of a bad guy with unspeakable power, who will do anything to achieve his goal, be it riches, power, or, well, some permutation of the two; and the young man, or possibly woman, whose destiny it is to be the undoing of the bad guy or, now that I’m thinking of being PC, girl, and set everything right in the end; and if it’s an author who is particularly conscious of the desires of his readers, a love interest, be it a particularly attractive young girl of an age with the hero, or, in more rare occasions, a particularly handsome young man of an age with the heroine.

(One might take notice at this point that the author is particularly fond of commas, as well as semi-colons, though one might speculate that the reason for that is because semi-colons include commas, that most handy and attractive of punctuation devices.)

(One might also note that the author is fond of long, tortuous, complex sentences that could possibly lead the reader, by this point so completely bemused and confounded by the labyrinthine twists and turns of phrase that he could not even manage to tie his own shoes properly, and then only with knots in the shape of commas, to have to reread the sentence to discover where he went awry, and this last dependent clause is unnecessary but the author thought he’d insert it anyway because he fancies commas.)

(One might further note that the author is quite fond of parenthetical notes that break the fourth wall even more completely and totally than it has already been shattered. I think I’ve done a rather good job of it so far.)

I do believe this author needs a moment to gather his thoughts, for he has forgotten where he was in all the excitement.

Ah, yes.

While this story has been told before, and, in quite a few cases, told better than I am sure my humble skills will permit me, I do hope that my interpretation of the common Hero’s Journey story can provide you with some entertainment to while away your day, or perhaps a week, or for those of you who need to mouth the words while you read, a month.

[One might note (last time, I promise) that the author can make one sentence, with sufficient use of commas, into a full paragraph length, and one might also note that the author is quite proud of this skill and plans to utilize it to its full potential in the course of this story, as he finds it quite useful for increasing his word count, and therefore the amount of money he hopes to charge for this published work, without hurrying the story along at too fast a pace.]

And now it feels the appropriate time to tell you that the story will start soon. Well, as soon as I’m good and ready.

Which, as it happens, is about now.

Another Story

2007-07-12T00:31:00.001-06:00

Side note: check out the Alliance page for a poll, a rather important one, and vote. Your vote may well determine the future! Or we may disregard you guys and totally go it ourselves. But whatever.

Side note #2: tell me what you think about the new color scheme. The last one was for a darker period of this blog/my life, and I think I'm coming into a happier one. So, tell me what you think.

Love Story the Third

Once upon a time there was a boy.

The boy fell in love with a girl.

The problem was, this girl was his best friend.

The other problem was, the boy didn't know how the girl felt about him.

So the boy decided to do nothing, and they remained friends, but were never more than that.

The boy married another girl, and they were happy.

But the boy never forgot his true love, his best friend, and he always regretted not taking that chance when he had the opportunity.

The girl was secretly sad that he hadn't taken the chance, either.

They both died as friends, secretly wishing that the other had done something to show their feelings.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, the boy decided to do nothing, and they remained friends, but were never more than that.

The boy moved on, and gradually, he fell out of love with his best friend.

The boy married his true love, and the girl hers, and they were happy.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, the boy took the chance, and professed his feelings to his friend.

However, she revealed that she didn't feel the same way, and he resigned himself to his fate, and they were friends for the rest of their lives.

The boy had no regrets, and he married a girl he truly loved.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, the boy took the chance, and professed his feelings to his friend.

However, she revealed that she didn't feel the same way, breaking his heart, and turning him away from love for the rest of his life, and turning him into a bitter man who would shun all attempts to befriend him or get close to him.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, the boy took the chance, and professed his feelings to his friend.

The girl was relieved and ecstatic, and told him that she returned his feelings, with all her heart.

They were together and marvelously happy, for a time, but it ended, as these things often must, and they were still friends afterwards.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, the boy took the chance, and professed his feelings to his friend.

The girl was relieved and ecstatic, and told him that she returned his feelings, with all her heart.

They were together and marvelously happy, for a time, but it ended, as these things often must, but they could not reconcile their differences, and they could not be friends any longer.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, the boy took the chance, and professed his feelings to his friend.

The girl was relieved and ecstatic, and told him that she returned his feelings, with all her heart.

They were together and marvelously happy, and one day they were married, and they remained joyous throughout all their days, and all the days after those.

Or at least, that's what could have happened.

In reality, nobody knows what really happened.

It's up to you to find out.

Stories

2007-07-08T23:31:00.002-06:00

A Story of Love

Once upon a time there was a boy.

There was also a girl, but you probably already knew that part.

The boy was in love with the girl. You probably knew that, too.

But the part you didn't know is that the girl loved the boy back.

However, neither of them expected the other to share their feelings, both of which burned with the intensity of a star.

And so each had to smother their feelings, so as to protect their souls from the pain of the rejection they anticipated.

One night at a party, their eyes met, as they often did, each staring into the eyes of the other, and then quickly glancing away, a red tinge appearing on their faces.

But this time, their gaze held.

And the boy asked the girl if she would like to dance.

And she accepted.

And they danced across the stars, under the moon, over the ocean and through time.

One day the boy and girl got married.

They bought a little house in the country, and had children, and were successful, and genuinely happy.

Then one day the boy, who was in fact no longer a boy, but a quite old man, died.

He had lived a long life, and so the girl was not so very sad, but still she died a few days after him, for their love had been strong.

And their children lived on, and met boys and girls of their own, and married, and so on and so forth

And so it has been since the dawn of time, since before all stories, since before the pyramids, since before the wars, and so it will be until the oceans dry, until the moon falls, until the stars wink out, until man disappears from the earth, and until the sun is extinguished.

The End.

A Story of Wisdom

Once upon a time there was a warrior.

The warrior had spent many years honing his skills to become the best in the land.

He had spent his whole life exterminating all the monsters in his land until there was only one left.

The last monster was also the most fierce, the most feared, and most dreadful in all the old land.

The warrior sought out the beast and fought it, and was driven back by the armored scales of the beast.

The warrior then trained for a year to learn how to overcome the scales.

When the warrior faced the beast again, he wounded it in a weak spot, but was driven back by the beast's horns.

The warrior trained for three years to learn the way to overcome the horns.

When the warrior fought the beast for the third time, he was able to get past the horns, but was driven back at the last by the beast's teeth.

The warrior trained for ten years to learn the way to overcome the teeth, because the beast had more teeth than scales, and they were coated in a deadly poison.

And the warrior, now much older than when he had begun his quest, faced the beast, a shade of its former vicious self, for the fourth time.

And the warrior laid down his sword, for he knew that the beast had no defenses that would be a challenge for him to overcome.

And so the beast died of old age, after it spread the word of the warrior who had spared its life, and the warrior retired his sword, having no use for it now.

The land had forgotten all of the warrior's service, but some of its citizens had not, and a lady who owned a tea shop took him in, and the warrior and the owner were married, and lived out the rest of their days in peace.

The beasts of the land knew that the warrior would be able to defeat them, but would choose not to, and so they halted their murderous ways and stuck to feeding off the wild, out of respect for the warrior's great skill.

And the warrior passed on his skill and wisdom to his students and the land was forever safe.

The End.

Another Story of Love

Once upon a time there was a boy.

The boy had been with a girl for a very long time, and he had thought they were in love, and were going to get married, but she had left him for another boy.

The boy was very sad, because he knew in his heart that that girl was the one, the only one for him.

The boy stood on a very tall building and let the wind whip him about and prepared for his death, for he believed that there could be no living after her.

But the boy heard a voice somewhere in his heart that told him it was not all over, there was still more to do on this earth. So the boy came down.

And one day, the boy met another girl.

This girl's eyes were polished, gleaming stars.

This girl's hair shone brighter than any sun.

This girl's skin glowed underneath the moonlight.

This girl's heart was wider and deeper than the sea.

This girl's smile made the boy's heart stop and his head reel and his knees shake.

This girl was the one, and the boy wondered how he could have ever believed otherwise.

And the boy married the girl, and they lived happily ever after for the rest of their lives.

The End.

I have the facts and I'm voting yes

2007-07-05T22:44:00.001-06:00

Anyone who can tell me what that title is from deserves a cookie.

As if you couldn't guess, I'm back.

The trip was fun. Maybe I'll do a recap of this one, since it was more memorable than the Indiana trip in terms of friends and activities.

The scenery was much better this time around. Last year, I sat next to Wil the whole time. This year, I sat next to Billy on the way there, but sat next to Alma for most of the rest of the trip. She's way cool, and does a really good llama impersonation. Get it? Llama, Lama. Alma loves llamas. You'll see in the pictures. When I get them on here. Which may not be for a while.

I learned a lot of things on this trip. I learned I can be very confident when I want to be. I learned that I suck at being a guy. I learned that TRs suck. No, I didn't have one, it just confirmed my suspicions like it does every year. I learned that I need to rethink some things. I learned that I need to learn a lot of things.

I wish life wasn't so complicated sometimes. I have some serious thinking to do.

I've read Chris and Jaron's inspiring posts. They were good. I am always really inspired by them, but... through no fault of yours, it just doesn't get my blood pumping the way it used to.

It feels... fake. Like, it's true for you guys, but I know it's not for me. That inspiring stuff isn't for me. Deep down, I know it will all work out in the end, but I'm impatient. I want results now. I'm not willing to wait and work and make it come to me. I know that sounds stupid, but that's because it is.

I hate it.

I hate the way I am. At least in that regard.

I mostly like me. Most of the time. Just to reassure you.

It's good to be back.

I think.

Time will tell.

Maybe.

Triumphant Return. Well, a Return, at Least

2007-06-19T22:24:00.001-06:00

For all of you out of the loop, I recently got back from a week in Indiana for the music camp at Indiana University at Bloomington. I'll include a short recap here... if you want more info, just ask me in person or something. Or... whatever.

*sigh*

I swear, I was going to recap.

I was also going to answer a request.

But... I'm not feeling it tonight.

I haven't been feeling anything recently.

I kind of feel like crap.

I don't know why.

Then again, I feel like crap a lot without much of a reason.

So... this is no big departure from the norm.

Sorry, guys.

I disappoint yet again.

Cheers...