... Wibblers Wobble ...

Got a Smile in my Heart and it Spread to my Face

2011-10-16T12:07:00.000-07:00

This week’s spotlight band has been on my radar for a long time, actually; but only recently did I break down, purchase their album and fall in love. I can’t tell you exactly when I first heard of Vampire Weekend because they seemed to blow up everywhere all at once, and now they're a college/young adult musical staple. If you know only one of their songs, it’s probably “Holiday” featured on a Christmas-time Target commercial, if I remember correctly, and frequently heard over the Muzak of Starbucks, Abercrombie and other such fine commercial establishments. It may have been this association with the college crowd (especially the fraternity scene) and the commercial explosion of the band that gave me such cause for hesitation, but I tell you what: they are a quirky bundle of fun, and that is not limited only to clean, drunken white collar delinquents as I had previously thought. Their songs are ridiculous with lots of “bloops and bleeps” in the background, as one of my friends complains and have predictable, but peppy beats. I never really know exactly what they’re saying in their lyrics; it could be Spanish for all I can tell, but I never really care either. It’s just plain fun, guaranteed to put a smile on your face. I took them with me when I ran my first half-marathon the other weekend (like how I just dropped that in there?) and if asked, I would give them a good deal of the credit for my successful crossing of the finish line.

Despite the mumbling and generally carefree spirit of their music, a song called "Oxford Comma" from their self-titled debut album, betrays the band's Ivy League roots. The four members of Vampire Weekend met and formed the group in 2006 while students at Columbia University. Things progressed rather speedily after that, signing to a label in 2007, releasing their first album in 2008 and a chart-topping follow-up album in 2010.

I’m listening to their second album Contra right now, as there’s a great fall rain happening outside; and the album still seems appropriate. I almost feel like there’s a private joke between my iPod and me that we are not letting the weather in on. There’s a smile growing warm in my heart and it’s thanks to Vampire Weekend. Have a long drive ahead? Not looking forward to a weekend of cleaning the house? Need to do some working out? Take these kids with you.

Photo credit: Søren Solkær Starbird

To Remind and To Remember

2011-09-29T17:00:00.001-07:00

*Preface: My apologies for missing last week. The concert season has started for me, requiring the occasional Thursday evening rehearsal. This makes for unusual/impossible office hours.*

I have three really fantastic roommates here in Believeland. Two of them just got married this summer and moved into our humble abode. Let's talk about crazy: Newlywed couple + 2 single post-grad school girls = recipe for disaster and epic b-list sitcom. Add some Jesus to that, and specify the people involved and you have a recipe for hilarity and grace. It is so wonderful to live here. The other swf in my house does not always share my taste in music, but J & A frequently do. Today's post is dedicated to them because they love this week's band, and although I had been aware of Sleeping At Last for several years (since junior year of college or so?), they've gone relatively unnoticed, unlistened to and unappreciated. As prone as I am to a lifestyle of hermitage and solitude (as an awkward, but important conversation with a formerly-good-friend has just addressed), it turns out that Life was meant to be lived with people and is always better (though also more difficult) with them in it. We can't all be aware of everything all the time. Sometimes we need each other to point out things that are good or beautiful in the every day. Sometimes we need to be the ones to point them out.

Sleeping At Last is actually just one man named Ryan O'Neal. The intimacy and oftentimes spacious arrangements in the music betrays the one-manness (I think I just made up that word) of the band, but I was still surprised to learn that the powerful song-writing and poetic lyrics come from just one head. Sleeping At Last hasn't always been just one man; it started as a full-sized garage band out of the greater Chicagoland area and has organically transitioned into O'Neal's solo project. You can more of the story here.

Sleeping At Last's most ambitious project to date, the "Yearbook" EP Project has just this month come to a close. O'Neal challenged himself to continuously write music for an entire year - enough to produce three new songs every month. And he was serious enough about his challenge to put his money where his mouth was - inviting listeners to subscribe to the Project and promising to deliver three complete new tunes at the dawn of each new calendar month. Though Sleeping At Last has become a solo project, O'Neal did not endeavor to complete the project all on his own - he had frequent guest collaborators from Jon Foreman (of Switchfoot - who just released their newest album this week - and Fiction Family) to Katie Herzig (who also just released a new album) to Paul Von Mertens (Wilco). Delivering even more than his promise, O'Neal collaborated with visual artist Geoff Benzing to pair gorgeous paintings as cover art for each EP. The whole project is a labor of beauty: beautiful sounds and beautiful visuals. It would be similar to me deciding to learn and record all the Barrett Grand Etudes (*Nerd alert*) while in conservatory and then ask one of my colleagues in the school of visual art or art & design to paint accompanying scenes, or one of my ballet friends to choreograph an accompanying dance in the style of each etude, or a poet friend write some lyrics for them. It was this kind of collaboration of the arts that has always intrigued me about art school and the idea of arts colonies and artist fellowships. I also think it's this kind of collaboration that, when invested in, will keep the arts alive in our culture. The arts I think will always have a way of being relevant and surviving, but I think, especially in an arts-hostile culture like the 'States. But here's the difference between Sleeping At Last's "Yearbook" project and my Barrett etude senior thesis: People want to hear his. It is high quality and aurally palatable.

O'Neal's music is piano driven with soaring vocals whose tonal quality is simultaneously deep and floaty. It is a little bit of an acquired taste - in a way not dissimilar to Radiohead. His voice is sometimes reminiscent of Rufus Wainwright in the lilting lines and chosen harmonies. The lyrics are poetic and the orchestrations are oftentimes quirky and sometimes cinematic. I liken Sleeping At Last to a forward moving, hopeful version of The Album Leaf. This is beautiful music for: rainy nights when your heart is content to beat to the rhythm of the raindrops, autumn afternoons or snowy mornings - apparently times involving something falling from the sky. Sleeping At Last might just fall into that category of elusive music that you listen to when you need to be reminded that sometimes Life really is just beautiful, even if difficult.

I chose this video because this is the song to which A, one of my roommates, walked down the aisle. It's beautiful, just like her.
If you want to check out a couple other songs I like, look for "All This to Say" and "Unmade" specifically.

Serendipitous Sweethearts

2011-09-15T16:37:00.001-07:00

Gotta' send a shout out to my friend James for this week's post. He's the one who really got me into She & Him. I had heard of them from RELEVANT magazine (their July/Aug '09 issue) and their podcast, but it was James who really made me listen to them. So, thanks James. My world ... and now your world, dear readers, is a little bit brighter.

You know Zooey Deschanel? Buddy the Elf/Will Ferrel's love interest in the new classic Christmas movie Elf? And you know that scene where she's singing "Baby, It's Cold Outside" and Buddy joins her? Well, that's really her singing! Amazing! And even more amazingly, she's recorded some non-Christmas music on actual albums so you can enjoy her dulcet tones and pick-me-up pep shamelessly, year-round. (Though I myself am not one to hang my head at playing a little Christmas music in or around July.)
Deschanel teamed up with M. Ward to form a serendipitous super-duo called She & Him whose upbeat songs with guitar, tambourine, hand-claps and old school background vocals is reminiscent of the long-gone torch singer, crooner or Carpenter days. Her voice even sounds a little like Karen Carpenter's, but a little bit more vibrant, and just as sweet as her face. The sound is not terribly complex, but chock full of positive energy and a nearly-lost art form of happiness.

You've probably heard a few of their tracks in various movie soundtracks, commercials or scoring your shopping trips to places like Target or Kohl's. Nevertheless, it's always a treat. Their sound is approachable and accessible and sure to bring a smile to your face.

This has been a tough week for me and smiling/happiness has been difficult, but I can't help myself when I listen to these tracks from She & Him. So great!

I know the video is a little dark, but I just love this song.

Ben Sol'ful'ee

2011-09-08T16:50:00.003-07:00

We begin again with a note of celebration: I have now officially lived in Cleveland for one year! Labor day marked one year exactly that I worked my job and lived in my house of joy! Hooray! (By the way, that 'note' pun was totally unintentional. Love it? I do!)

This week's featured artist is one I have wanted to introduce you to over and over again, but the time just hasn't been quite right. And honestly, I'm not sure that the time is right now either, but I just can't wait any longer. I simply MUST tell you about him.
His name is Ben Sollee and he is actually a classically-trained, "genre-bending" cellist from Kentucky. I don't know how all of these things happen at once in one person, but I am pretty certain he's the only one of his kind. Probably because he defines his kind. I'd also like to mention he toured with Abigail Washburn and Bela Fleck as part of The Sparrow Quartet. This kid is awesome. Read his bio.

What his music sounds like: Jack Johnson, John Mayer, John Legend, Bob Marley, Ray LaMontagne, a one-man-tongue-in-cheek-Avett-upbeat-black-sheep-brothers, Sufjan Stevens, Abigail Washburn ...
He's got vibraphone, bells, violin, cello, drumset, trumpet, harp, mouth harp, fiddle, guitar, banjo ... it's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. Seriously. Seriously ridiculous.

His lyrics are not natural or smooth, sometimes the rhymes are forced (or he gives up on the rhymes completely), but they are honest, transparent, poignant and true. No poetry mostly, but very good prose. On the same album he's ask you if you're "strong enough bend" and then ask you to "bury [him] with [his] car." And as he's grown as an artist [and human] his songwriting has also matured.

Especially in this politically-charged atmosphere (I type this while Obama's speech is happening on t.v.) his song "A Few Honest Words" is a sincere charge from a generation asking politicians to speak straight about the current state of things and to make legitimate, effective decisions. Listen to it and tell me he shouldn't flash-mob all the political conventions and campaigns with it.

If you're gonna' lead my country
If you're gonna' say it's free
Gonna' need a little honesty//
Just a few honest words
It shouldn't be that hard
Just a few honest words
Is all I need//
I don't need no handshake
Or firm look in the eye
Don't tell me what you think I ought to hear ....

I wonder what would happen if someone like Passion Pit did a remix of it actually ... hmmm.
*Edit: After a little bit of research, I found someone actually did remix the song with quotes from Obama's campaign. But I won't give you links, because I don't think they're that good. Passion Pit could do a better job.*

There is an ease and simplicity in his music which would seem to be influenced by his Kentucky roots and an earnestness and frankness in many of his lyrics betraying an East Coast/artistic influence. And he manages the natural conflict of the two cultures and lifestyles so smoothly, probably because they are legitimately, peaceably dwelling within him.

Evenings when you feel generally content, a good Saturday morning cleaning, or a Sunday morning spent sitting is probably when you want most to listen to this music. Take him camping with you. Buy all his albums. Every time I pull him up on my iPod again, I regret not having bought all of his albums at once.

This video is long, as it's the entire NPR Tiny Desk concert, but this is maybe my favorite Tiny Desk they've ever done. The perfect environment/space for it.

P.S. No one comment about the hair ...

Image credit: I don't know, I swiped it from this website.

Dark, Cynical and Impossibly Honest

2011-09-01T16:05:00.001-07:00

Most exciting things first: I found out Monday that I have been added to the music review team at Relevant Magazine! Hooray! Celebrate with me! As the oboe and I have been fighting a lot recently, I am hoping this ends up being the first step in a new direction.

Okay, let's get down to business (to defeat the Huns).

Remember last week how we talked about the Muppets and their sweet reminder in a world of cynicism, sarcasm and meanness? Well, this week we're diving straight into that cynical, sarcastic mean and rocking world of Elizabeth and the Catapult. I was first introduced to Elizabeth and the Catapult by Relevant, actually, so this fitting. I heard the song "Race You," fell in love with its youthful spirit and energy and decided I needed to buy the album. I won't say I regret purchasing the 2009 album, but that happy tune is certainly the anomaly. The rest of the album is dark and riddled with tongue-and-cheek observations on life. The title track "Taller Children" is actually an idea that continues to strike a deep chord with me, as it talks about the similarities between being a child and being an adult - that we never actually seem to grow up, only taller - but it doesn't take a light-hearted grace-filled approach to this idea. Nevertheless, I like the song and the idea ... I just try to put my own optimistic spin on it. "Momma's Boy" and "Perfectly Perfect" (from the bonus track edition of the album) are uptempo, fun standouts, in spite of their lyrics. "Momma's Boy" laments the plight of many older, single and (perhaps) slightly bitter women saying "if you want a girl to be your mother, go find another one." And "Perfectly Perfect" is a carnival ride through the paradoxes existent in our own lives with its opening line of "I'm just so perfectly perfect, except when I'm not."
The album also has its share of sweet and beautifully arranged songs. "Gold Ink" is one such with wistful lyrics "I have just begun to work my magic, but it seems as though it's lost at sea" and "Just in Time" is a sincere love song whose sound is slow and swimming, creating the feeling of being suspended in a moment of reflection.
"Hit the Wall" is a powerful Adele-esque number. And in general the whole album has a similar feel to Adele - strong and soulful. Although dark, Elizabeth and the Catapult is authentic and completely honest. She/it/they are a great addition to a music library that already contains Adele, A Fine Frenzy, Feist, Florence and the Machine or other strong female singers. The lyrics are strong poetry and the accompanying music is solid and multi-genred. But don't start with Elizabeth. She's a second or third step, rather than a first.

This video is a live performance of one of my most stand-out songs on the album, "Everybody Knows." It is soul and blues at their best. On the album, there's stomping; in the performance it's a kick-drum. The opening is stark with just the beat and the vocals: a perfect compliment to the stark lyrics. "Everybody knows that the war is over. Everybody knows that the good guys lost." It's heavy & effective.

Most Sensational, Inspirational, Celebrational, Muppetational

2011-08-25T16:28:00.001-07:00

Tuesday marked the release of The Green Album. Let's be honest, this review is just a formality. I love the Muppets. I have always loved the Muppets. I am most definitely going to tell you to go out and buy a Muppet tribute/revival album. But when you put some of my favorite artists on the album, like OK Go or Andrew Bird or Rachel Yamagata, I am even more enthusiastically going to tell you to buy it. And yes, I did pre-order the album. And I'm proud of it.
Robin Hilton also writes a lovely review of the album on the NPR First Listen blog; with which I happen to agree a great deal.
But here is my not-even-pretending-to-be-objective view on this collaboration: Love it!
The album kicks off, and I mean really kicks, with OK Go playing The Muppet Show theme. I think the Electric Mayhem would be proud of their loud and distorted take on tune. And when I think about it, OK Go just might be the real world's Electric Mayhem. Almost. Next up is Weezer + Hayley Williams (Paramore) doing Rainbow Connection. This one is a little tricky for me. That song is a classic and much beloved to me, Kermit the Frog being my dream, er, frog and all. They do it fair justice, though. There's not much playing with the arrangement, I'm not a fan of the vocal colors, but it's still a great song. Maybe the most surprising track is The Fray singing "Mahna Mahna." I had no idea who was singing when I first heard it, and when I checked in with my iPod I was so surprised! It's hard for me to hear The Fray singing this ridiculously catchy song (over and over in my head) and then try to also hear them singing "How to Save a Life." There's an extended instrumental part in the song which doesn't make much sense if you don't also picture the sketch from the show in your head at the same time, but I have repeated this track more than once. The Alkaline Trio does a fantastic version of "Movin' Right Along" which ought to be on any mixed tape you give a friend who moves away or for any road trip. It's on this track that I start to try to picture these bands seriously entering a recording studio, which is no cheap ordeal, to record tracks from The Muppet Show. Did they start to question their legitimacy as artists? Did they have a great time? Is it a dream they've finally been given permission to live out loud and proud? American rockers My Morning Jacket perform "Our World" with which I was completely unfamiliar, but is reminiscent of John Lennon to me, actually. He's not a muppet, but he'd be proud of this one I think. Would probably have sung it with them, too. And how about the nod to the Beatles "White Album" with the Muppets "Green Album." Too much? Nay, just right. Amy Lee (from Evanescence) sings "Halfway Down the Stairs," which was originally sung by Robin, Kermit's adorable nephew (and an excellent second choice for my husband I think) if I remember correctly. Her unique ethereal voice almost keeps the innocence of Robin's, but the electronic/techno background is a little too much for me. It's daring and almost commendable, except it becomes repetetive and almost trite as the song continues. Nevertheless, this song has gotten most stuck in my head. Sondre Lerche absolutely kills "Mr. Bassman" (in a good way) and sounds a bit like Ben Sollee, whom I also love. Andrew Bird does an absolutely beautiful arrangement of "Bein' Green." The entire album is worth this track, I think. Seriously. Kermit, himself, might even try to cheer Bird up. Matt Nathanson performs "I Hope That Something Better Comes Along" with a sincerity and slight sultry flavor that makes it sound like it came from one of his own albums, not a Muppet tribute. Rachel Yamagata closes the album with "I'm Going to go Back There Someday" with background vocals that sound like Glee, but it's a sweet end to a sweet trip down memory lane as an adult.
And that's the thing. This album is almost like what it would sound like if the Muppets actually did grow up, like all the rest of us did, and if maybe life taught them the same lessons it taught all of us. And if they "got the band back together" to revisit the old days. (Which apparently they do in the new movie coming out in November. Did you catch that? NEW MUPPET MOVIE!) The Green Album is sweet and sincere - like we all used to be. It's a fun refreshment from a world which is oftentimes mean and sarcastic.

Sufjan: love him, hate him, fight him, admire him

2011-08-18T14:12:00.000-07:00

Some days I feel like the worst hipster ever, not that I am really trying to be a hipster, but having just looked up the definition of "hipster" in the Urban Dictionary, I pretty much am one. There is one core reason for my sense of detachment from the hipster movement at large, and that would be my relationship with Indie/Hipster darling Sufjan Stevens.
I have no idea how/when Stevens came on the scene. I can't remember who introduced me to him, either; which is most unusual. The first association I have with his music, however, are his two state albums Illinois and Michigan. My first response was "I can't believe he used midi oboe. This sounds terrible!" Then whoever it was that introduced me to this new soundscape informed me that he plays all his own instruments. For just a moment, that made me feel better, because I guess oboe is hard to play and sound good. Then I thought "This still sounds terrible!" His song "Chicago" from Illinois is referenced in a Snow Patrol song that I love. And people I know and love and who generally have impeccable taste love his music, but I just couldn't understand.
For a long time I would pretend to like Sufjan whenever he was being discussed, and I would coo and giggle over the state albums and be excited when there was talk of a new album, but when it was released, I would never do anything to procure a copy. I was surprised to eventually learn that one of my favorite David Crowder songs (for it's authentic approach to God's seeming absence) was originally a Sufjan tune off Michigan ("Oh God Where are you now? ...) and this seemed to give a little bit more legitimacy to his efforts, but I was still undecided. Then I heard part of his Christmas box-set and our relationship, Sufjan's music and mine, changed. First, I heard some new friends playing some of these new arrangements of Christmas classics and I was instantly charmed. They were inventive and innocent and difficult to sing along with because they were nothing like the originals but above all they were ... beautiful. I was so pleased when I learned they were actually Stevens' arrangements because now I actually did have an affection to back up my words with my friends. There's something about the new eyes with which Stevens sees these classics that I can understand. Music that comes straight from his brain, I cannot seem to grasp - we have no common ground in the functioning of our minds/understanding of music. But if the music comes from someone else's brain and Stevens reinterprets or reinvents it, I love it - we now have common ground.
The more investigation I have done into his music, the more messy my relationship with Stevens' has become. For the most part I think I can say I admire him. I don't think everything he does is gold or even a diamond in the rough. I feel okay saying this. I feel right and honest, and not the least bit dirty about it.
Even as I have been writing this post and thinking about this complicated relationship, I have been streaming his albums on Spotify and find this love/hate/admire relationship to be consistent. I seem to like his more recent work better, perhaps he has been practicing his oboe, or abandoned it completely and stuck with some different instrumentation choices. I have been impressed with the Shostakovich-like string part in the eleventh minute (that's right, the eleventh minute) of the original version of "All Delighted People" from his 2010 All Delighted People EP and I've heard references to classic Simon & Garfunkel in some of his lyrics. The man knows quality, clearly. Regardless of how I feel about his music-making, I have to respect his taste and his independence. His style is definitive and unique. You always know a Sufjan Stevens record and even his record label Asthmatic Kitty has a certain vibe to all its artists.
Here's the bottom line: I do not love the music of Sufjan Stevens, but I don't hate it either. That sounds like it could be the worst thing you could say to an artist. But it's certainly not a lack of reaction in this case either. I am not apathetic by any means. I merely relate to him as an artist in a deeply complicated and individual way. I have been in a continual struggle with my true response to Stevens until this point and I think the struggle ends here: I respect and admire him and what he does. I will probably break down and buy all of his albums at one point or another because they should be on every self-respecting hipster's iPod, but I will probably frequently skip over them and rarely be in the mood for them. Every now and again, though, they will hit the spot.
Except the Christmas albums, those will become a Christmas tradition in my house.
Speaking of Christmas, I am so ready for it to be here! Anyone else? Think it's too early to go caroling? Next July, I am going to get a group together to go Christmas-in-July caroling. Who's in?

Golder Discoveries

2011-08-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

The week Haley Bonar released her new LP Golder was a fairly bleak music-release week. I had rather despaired of finding anything new that week when I happened upon her name way down at the bottom of the iTunes new releases list. (It's true, there's really no magic about where or how I find new music. Just lifting up a few rocks, scrolling down a few lists and happening upon some pots of gold ... and every now and again a pot of coal.) Her name seemed fairly promising and her music has followed suit.
Described as alternative/country, her style is difficult to classify. It's got electric guitars and drums, tambourines and wuzzley sounds (I made that word up), some acoustic guitars and a pleasant voice which sounds like an amalgam of a lot of female singers - the most striking being her resemblance to Patty Griffin in the rocking "Raggedy Man." Reading her bio, she's approachable and down-to-earth, living her own story and making music by her own rules, as encouraged by her artistically-friendly upbringing.
You can tell a lot about a person by the music they make most of the time, and Bonar's is unique, friendly, light-hearted and free-spirited, but appropriately structured.
When I first sat down on my porch and gave this album a listen through, every song seemed to bring a bigger and bigger smile to my face, not in the same way as say Freelance Whales, but in the way that it was exactly what I had needed to hear after a frustrating day at "the office." The album elicited an audible laugh when I reached the bubbly penultimate track "Bad For You." With the whole female singer-songwriter thing she has going on, despite her genre-denying style, I was expecting "Bad For You" to be a poignant reflection on a past failed relationship. Instead it's a tongue-in-cheek look at the way you can't live with this world, and you can't live without it. I played it for my roommate, but she didn't love it the same way I did. Bonar's not guaranteed to be everyone's cup of tea, but she's worth a listen.

Optimistic Reality

2011-08-04T16:15:00.000-07:00

Every now and again I stumble, serendipitously, upon some music that lights up my life. Recently Amazon was running a great deal featuring 100 digital albums at $5. There is a part of me that hates to support Amazon because of what's become of Borders and all that Amazon seems to stand for. But I have to give them props; they've found a market and made it theirs. And $5 albums! What a steal. It took some of the risk out of exploring new bands or adding those albums to my collection that I knew as a music geek I should have and just hadn't managed to make it happen yet. As I was checking out the deals, I clicked on the samples for a band called The Submarines. The album cover was simple and slightly quirky, meaning either 1. super awesome or 2. trying too hard. In the first two seconds of the first sample "Shoelaces", my heart had found a new home. It was peppy, upbeat, strange in the most charming way with synths and bells and boops and pops. So great! I bought it. Right away. Since then, the whole album (their most recent release: Love Notes/Letter Bombs) has followed through on the promise of those first two seconds and has been lighting up my face constantly.

A few days after buying the album, I had a little bit of a heartbreaking encounter with a boy and while I did give myself the room to cry and grieve, instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, The Submarines came through and lifted my spirits. Every song is about a relationship - either the glories of one gone right or the sweet sadness of one gone wrong. The song "Tigers" goes in the latter category. But it's not the typical "You broke my heart, you stinking piece of filth, I hope you grow disgusting sores in all the wrong places" break-up song. Neither is it the "I want you back, oh baby, oh baby" kind either. Instead it describes the kind of picture we all wish we could have with failed or doomed relationships. The chorus says "You know I've loved you from the start/But this house can't make you stay/Sometimes these things just fall apart." All hope is not yet lost, but rational thought has set into the relationship and things simply aren't looking good. But the tempo, drums, synth and samples keep the world from crashing in. The whole album has that same optimistic reality to it - even the happy love songs are still rational and don't make you want to throw up.

I don't know anything about the band, except it's a guy named John and a girl named Blake apparently. But their blogs on their website are adorable ... just like their music.

If you've liked The Dodos, GIVERS or Freelance Whales posts, you're probably going to love The Submarines, too. I just can't seem to get enough of this happy groove.

Photo credit: Promo image from the interwebs.

Banjos and Sunshine

2011-07-28T16:18:00.002-07:00

I don't consider myself the trendiest person. I seem to have trend ADD; I just cannot focus enough to grasp or care about them. Sometimes I'm late to them; sometimes I'm in the thick of them; there's just no telling.

I remember hearing about this trendy band called Freelance Whales over a year ago during NPR's coverage of the South by Southwest Festival in Austin, TX. I even downloaded a SXSW sampler including a song by them, but never bothered to listen to it.
A few months ago, Starbucks actually teamed up with Freelance Whales and featured their song "Generator (First Floor)" in a commercial. It made its way onto my iPod and through the beauty of shuffle, it finally made its way to my blessed eardrums just over a month ago.

Freelance Whales is from Queens, NY and formed as all the best bands seem to do nowadays - word of mouth and Craigslist (how else?) and started by filling the subways of their home city with joyous sounds. Their music is fun and littered with bells, whistles, banjos and synthesizers - all things for which I have a weak spot. The band's debut album, Weathervanes, released in 2009 and is 13 songs of joy & fun. The sound smacks of Sufjan Stevens, Owl City, The Postal Service, Noah and the Whale, old Jimmy Eat World and even a little Arcade Fire. Although eclectic, the sound is well-balanced and beautiful.

It's hard to keep your feet or the corners of your mouth down when listening to this collective of free spirits; so if you're in a mood to wallow in your self-pity, this would not be a good choice. But if you're ready to walk down the street accompanied by an infectious hook, banjo and sunshine, these are your kids.

Standout songs: Generator (First Floor)
Location
We Could Be Friends
Generator (Second Floor)

Photo from jellynyc.com; you can hear a good interview with Freelance Whales from them here.

Summer Means a New 'Winter'

2011-07-05T13:53:00.000-07:00

Some of the best things come out of difficult times of life. Bon Iver, Justin Vernon's labor of love lost is a beautiful example of this. During a self-prescribed period of isolation following a break-up and an illness, Vernon began slowly forming an aural soundscape which became For Emma, Forever Ago. Tracks from Emma and the subsequent EP Blood Bank found their way into major television shows and feature films in both the US and the UK, most notably the appearance of the single "Skinny Love" in Grey's Anatomy and Chuck.
It's hard to believe, but it's been five years since the release of that Indie chart topper. Like a Christmas gift in June, Bon Iver (whose name comes from the French "bon hiver" meaning "beautiful winter") finally released the follow-up album Bon Iverlast month. And what a gift it is! The two albums bear some differences in general emotional appeal and instrumentation, but are very obviously still siblings. While Emma came from a place of heartache and recovery, Bon seems to come from a happier place - at least according to Vernon in an interview with NPR. I notice the instrumentation changes, especially when it comes to the somewhat controversial last song "Beth/Rest." But overall the album takes me to nearly the same place Vernon's debut album takes me - a place of quietness and contentment in the midst of turmoil or unrest. Bon Iver's music is always a place I can go to find rest and solitude. Although there's a certain part of it that pushes my general acceptance of synth/electronic music, Bon Iver has managed to earn my trust with anything he does. This includes some of the synth choices on Bon Iver like those in the single "Calgary" or the already mentioned "Beth/Rest." Comments have been made, and I agree, connecting these particular tracks (especially the latter) with the rash-causing synthesizer found in 80s music. But because of the relationship I already have with the artist and his creation, I'm willing to overlook it and almost embrace it. There's a certain sincerity in it that I hear now, that I don't hear in those once-beloved classics of days past. I wonder if this will still hold true twenty years from now.
I don't have any tracks like "Skinny Love" with hooks that get stuck in my head for hours at work yet, but I am always taken with the opening piano notes of "Wash." and the few words I understand in "Holocene" - Once I knew/I was not magnificent. The iTunes bonus track release comes with a video of Vernon playing "I Can't Make You Love Me/Nick of Time" which completely changes those tunes from eye-rolling and gag-inducing to tender, true and legitimate.
I had a hard time saying if I really wanted Bon Iver to come out with another album. I loved the first one so much, and I adore the EP, but part of the draw for me was its organic existence ... that Vernon never intended to record an album, it just grew out of him - you can hear that, I think. If there wasn't another one in him, I was okay with that. I was okay with accepting For Emma as a happy accident, complete musical serendipity, perfection or near. It would save me the heartache of a sub-standard sequel that would compromise my love of the first album. I'm happy to say, however, my fears were ill-founded and music does not necessarily always follow the paths of movies. There are more sounds found on this album - saxophone being one of them - but it's still the same Bon Iver. Vernon's vocals being an important mainstay.
You know the feeling you get before you go to bed, when all you want is your blanket and your pajamas? Or when there's a gentle snow outside, but you can sit by a warm fire in front of a widow with a mug of hot chocolate and slowly watch the world transform? Bon Iver's music is the aural equivalent to that feeling. Seriously. See if that's not true for you; it certainly is for me.

Photo by Drew Kaiser

"Fiestas and Siestas"

2011-06-09T14:37:00.000-07:00

Summer means: sunshine, sunburns, long days, longer nights, rest, fun, windows down, popsicles, departure from the norm and superhero movies. And each of these things requires a certain soundtrack. They're awesome on their own, but the right playlist makes it worthy of a few of those memory brain cells.

GIVERS, a Louisiana quartet has its own contribution to make to that ever-important summer playlist, and those contributions can be found on their first full-length album, In light. Everything about it is perfect for summer - from the release date (this past Tuesday, June 7th - when the sun is still working its way to its highest and hottest, leaving plenty of time to revel) to its sound. Hailing from Lafayette, LA, GIVERS display nearly every aspect of the varied southern cajun music scene. There are some Zydeco grooves, African whistling ("Atlantic"), swamp blues ("Go Out At Night"), Carribbean congo rhythms ("In My Eyes"), and even a nod to Aaron Copland's "Hoedown" from Rodeo ("Ceiling of Plankton"). The music resembles the lifestyle - it is serious fun, carefree and deeply authentic. I don't generally know what the lyrics are saying, but the ones I catch I like and the ones I miss, don't bother me. They have the same level of energy as The Dodos, but are a little more innocent and optimistic.

The first single from the album, "Up Up Up" is an uptempo, catchy, irresistible tune destined to bring a smile to your face and a swing to your hips ... even practically-fused-hips like mine. It is best enjoyed loud, but be warned, it will get stuck in your head, especially at inappropriate times like prayer meetings. "I Saw You First" sounds like it could be included as part of the Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack. Several of the songs qualify to accompany a boardwalk rollerskating scene in an Indie chick flick featuring Michael Cera. Everytime I hear "Go Out at Night" I love it more - there's something incredibly compelling about it's laid back, slow groove.

After undergoing rigorous unstandardized testing, In Light's scores stand as follows:

The "Sunny Day, Car Windows Down" Test: A
The "Laying in the Sun at the Pool" Test: A
The "Beach Volleyball" Test: A
The "Dance in the Street/on the Sidewalk/Anywhere With Your Friends" Test: A
The "Crank it up to 10" Test: A
The "Crank it up to 11" Test: B
The "Full Voice Sing-Along" Test: C (in spite of the last song's title and subject-matter, words aren't so paramount)

With this album, it is going to be a good summer. They say it themselves, "I choose light."

Get ready for summer, here's their first single "Up Up Up"

Rob Bell - Love Wins

2011-06-01T19:21:00.001-07:00

The time has come for me to contribute my part of the hype that has surrounded this book. I've heard murmurings of Rob Bell being a universalist, of blasphemy, of herecy, of blatant lies, of confusion, all sorts of really nasty things. The worst part? They've all come from within the very church Bell claims to be a part of ... well, sort of. Bell probably wouldn't say the church he follows would support such claims or attitudes. But the point is, they both claim to follow Jesus!

I'm going to cut to the chase and tell you my conclusion. Ready? Here it is:

I still don't understand what all the hype is about.

I didn't really understand what all the hype was about in the first place. Not understanding what people are upset about really helps one keep an open mind when diving into said controversy, at least it did in my case. I also tried to avoid hearing what most people were saying until I had read it for myself. I did listen to one interview with Rob Bell on Relevant Magazine's podcast. I thought I would allow myself to hear the thoughts of the person who penned such controversial material.

What I understand now is that some people think Bell is saying everyone will go to Heaven, because in the end Love wins. I see the argument. If God is all-powerful, and everything is subject to His will and His will is that no one should perish, then it seems everyone will go to Heaven, right? I see that argument. Bell, I think, also makes that argument. But. Bell also says that true Love is choice and it wouldn't be very loving of God to send/bring people to Heaven if they don't want to go to Heaven. So not everyone goes to Heaven.

Bell also challenges the generally accepted view of Hell as a real place, experienced after our life on this Earth has ended, and separate from this Earth. And that one I'm not going to touch with a ten-foot-pole because 1. I just don't care 2. I really don't know anything about it and 3. I just don't care.

My impression throughout the whole book was that Bell is offering humbly his understanding and possible view of Heaven and Hell and then gives some reasons for his understanding that. I also leave with the impression that Bell really doesn't know how it's all going to work out, and it's all a big mystery because who of us can really say until all is said and done? But that we shouldn't be afraid of mystery; we should dive in, as long as we remember we're really just making guesses, some more educated than others.

I've read three of Bell's previous books, and I subscribe to his church's sermon podcast. Perhaps I wasn't the most neutral to begin with. I'll confess that I've heard a bit more liberal leanings come from his church's sermons, especially as of late. But I also try to listen carefully to what's being said, what's being meant, and how it all lines up with what I know from my experience with Scripture and the leadings of the Spirit. I think that last part is really the key point in this entire controversy. It is important that we remember, well meaning and well-versed as our pastors and spiritual leaders may be, they are still fallible (unless you're Catholic, but even then ...), they are still human, still finite beings, trying to elucidate the infinite Creator. Tell me we're all going to get it right every time!

If you're already upset with Rob Bell for his cultural relevancy, or whatever other reason (there can be many), then you're probably not going to like this book either. If you're already a fan of Rob Bell, you're probably going to love this book. If you're already carefully weighing the words of every pastor you hear, you're probably going to like some parts of this book and not other parts of it. But I'd still recommend it. I found it to be an enjoyable experience.

Here are a couple of the passages I particularly liked:
"Jesus consistently affirmed heaven as a real place, space, and dimension of God's creation, where God's will and only God's will is done. Heaven is that realm where things are as God intends them to be." (Page 42)

"There are individual hells, and communal, society-wide hells, and Jesus teaches us to take both seriously. There is hell now, and there is hell later, and Jesus teaches us to take both seriously." (Page 79)

"Restoration brings God glory; eternal torment doesn't. Reconciliation brings God glory; endless anguish doesn't. Renewal and return cause God's greatness to shine through the universe; never-ending punishment doesn't." (Page 108)

"Love demands freedom. It always has, and it always will. We are free to resist, reject, and rebel against God's ways for us. We can have all the hell we want." (Pages 113)

"Will everybody be saved, or will some perish apart from God forever because of their choices? Those are questions, or more accurately, those are tensions we are free to leave fully intact. We don't need to resolve them or answer them because we can't, and so we simply respect them, creating space for the freedom that love requires." (Page 115)

Finally: "Grace and generosity aren't fair; that's their very essence." (Page 168)

What to do when you don't know what to do

2011-05-18T19:44:00.001-07:00

I have a book sitting next to my bed called "Plan B" ... it's about what to do when "Plan A" doesn't work out.
Every day I have a new plan for my life.
The one magazine I subscribe to just ran an article about 11 things you should know/do around your 25th ish year of life.

I've been thinking a lot about where I should go next, what I should do next, what I should do at all with my life, what my long term goals are, who I want to be, what I want to do. Do I go back to school? Do I get a doctorate? Do I become a writer? Do I stick with performing? Do I try to find a new job? Do I keep taking auditions? Can I still do an internship at NPR even though I'm out of school? Will I ever get married? How can I get a job being a professional friend (like, driving around the country encouraging my friends and crashing on their couches)?

I've asked these sorts of questions my whole life. Which is why at one Passion Conference I fell in love with Micah 6:8 where it says "...the LORD has already told you what is good, and this is what he requires: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God."

At prayer with my new church tonight I was reminded of this verse and on my way home from prayer I was again thinking about these questions.

And here's what I think you do when you don't know what to do, where to go or how to get there ... Breathe. And do something. Anything, really, but mostly do whatever is right in front of you to do.

So tonight I will go to bed. And tomorrow I will go to work. And I will be present at work, not lost in some fantasy land, because I'm in Cleveland now and Cleveland needs my full attention and my love, and I have love to give Cleveland and who knows, somewhere in this city, there just might be the next clue on this treasure hunt of life and it just might be right in front of my face ... eventually. And after work I will practice and then maybe I'll do some reading or some writing before riding to rehearsal with friends. Because that's what I have to tackle next. My doctoral dissertation doesn't need to be written tomorrow. But coffee does need to be made tomorrow. And I'm just the woman for the job.

So tomorrow I'll do what is right, I'll love mercy and I'll walk humbly with my God ... and then we'll take it from there.

Charlie Hall sings a version of "Micah 6:8" and I was obsessed with it for a good long time ...

The Aeolus Quartet

2011-04-19T19:06:00.000-07:00

Something a little different on the blog tonight. Not an album review, but a concert review.

I just got home from the Aeolus Quartet's da Capo performance in Reinberger Hall at Severance Hall in Cleveland. (I call it da Capo because as the quartet was formed right here in Cleveland at the Cleveland Institute of Music, it was a return to their roots a little bit.) Here is what you need to know: these kids are fantastic. I say "kids" with great love. I might be biased because they are also good, treasured friends of mine. But do not let that change your opinion, I'm hard on my friends.

Aeolus has been officially together as an ensemble for three years now. All four members have just finished post-graduate degrees at the University of Texas at Austin where they were the first Graduate Quartet-in-Residence at the school. As individuals, they are young; as an ensemble, they are young; as artists, they are way beyond their years.

The quartet put together a big program - a Bartok quartet, a Mendelssohn quartet plus two new works by living composers. Each piece presenting its own difficulties in mastering well, but mastered these artists certainly did. The Mendelssohn may have been the weakest on the program, the middle movements perhaps needing a little extra care than what they'd received, or suffering from fatigue as it was the last piece on the aggressive program. The Bartok was stand-out incredible. Such a mentally, musically and physically demanding piece and Aeolus certainly rose to the challenge and won. Alan Richardson's cello playing in the third movement was absolutely stunning. And the new works were intriguing and palatable. First on the program was Steven Snowden's "Appalachian Polaroids" which makes use of taped recording that interweaves through the beginning of the piece until the quartet takes over the sound. It's recognition of Americana sonorities and techniques make it resonate in the hearts of the audience - difficult to do with modern music these days. The Snowden has a companion piece in Alexandra Bryant's "Lady Isabelle Was That Kind of a Woman." Talking with the quartet members afterward, violinist (and husband of the composer) Nick Tavani let me in on some of the inside difficulties of the piece. It requires the players to both speak and play in rhythm - which can be done, but is a little like patting your head and rubbing your belly at once. He told me they were afraid of it at first, but they certainly didn't sound it at all. What I appreciated most about the Bryant was its use of rhythm and speech pattern in musical form.

The Aeolus Quartet possesses the rare combination of passion and discipline. I know they practice 8 hours a day, 6 days a week together. And their discipline shows. Each member is so familiar with not only their own part, not only each other's parts, but even how every note works in the whole of the piece - the purpose and direction of each phrase. They live inside this music. But it is that living that sets them apart. They really LIVE in the music. It has not lost meaning or just become rote, each player is present in each moment. They are communicating across the ensemble, they are communicating with the audience, they are communicating with themselves. Nick Tavani is a brilliant soloist, whose moments in the Mendelssohn elicited a literal mid-performance exclamation from his teacher, legendary William Preucil, of "That's my boy!" Rachel Shapiro's ensemble playing was on fire, supporting each line as necessary and then finally getting her own real moment to shine during their encore piece. Greg Luce's sweet sweet viola sound is so good for the soul - it really makes me feel bad for perpetrating so many viola jokes. And my superstar of the night cellist Alan Richardson was absolutely solid and his interpretation gorgeous. It is so inspiring to be in close proximity to these fantastic players. But even beyond what they bring to the stage, each one is so personable off stage as well. They can talk your ear off about what they just played, but they can also tell you about other bands, other composers, video games or food.

I'm not kidding you - watch out for these kids ... and just plain watch them. If you can make it to any of their performances, even if it requires a little bit of a drive for you, do it. It is completely worth your while; especially if you stay and chat with them afterward.

They are living proof that truly great sound is no respecter of time - you are never too young and it is never too old.

This video is from their website. Enjoy!

Laura Jansen - Bells

2011-04-04T18:17:00.000-07:00

I’m a sucker for a good female singer-songwriter, I’ll admit. It probably has something to do with being yet another year older and in my seemingly permanent state of singleness. So I was ready to give Laura Jansen a shot when she’s suggested with the likes of Ingrid Michaelson and Regina Spektor. But then I considered “perhaps there just isn’t anymore room in my heart for another feminine voice singing heartwrenchingly accurate songs of longing and heartache.” Laura Jansen gave me hope that perhaps there really is room left in my heart, but also made me think, perhaps she is not meant to occupy that remaining space.
When I think about picking this album up again and giving it a listen, I grow weary. It feels like work. But when I do finally give it a chance, I’m always pleasantly surprised. It’s like those family reunions you dread going to because you have to talk to your older slightly pretentious cousin. And then you show up, because you have to and if you don’t your grandmother will tell you “when the family falls apart, it’s your fault.” And when you get there, you remember how surprisingly not pretentious your older cousin is; that actually he (or she) tells great stories and is great to drink with.

In a nod to something metaphysical, or perhaps just to let you in on what the tone of the album is going to be, the album starts off with a song called “The End” about the end of a relationship. The very first few piano chords, especially when the vocal comes in, sounds very much like a Keane cover – or like perhaps the band had some sort of operation since we’ve last heard from them.
In general the album is mostly piano heavy with some not-completely-offensive background tracks (drum machine, pseudo-Postal-Service synth effects, strings). The vocal harmonies are quite pleasant and the tunes are fine. The title track “Bells” seems to only recall bells with the piano notes, but doesn’t actually employ any real bells – I’m mixed about this choice.
The standout track is probably track 3 (as I’ve come to learn seems to be a trend), “Single Girls.” It’s an honest, vulnerable look at a girl’s life post-break-up. Simple, sweet and almost naïve; it’s really quite beautiful. And the album even includes a live performance sans background instruments/vocals. And gentle as that version is, I might like the studio better; the honesty seems almost forced in the live performance.
There’s a quirky tune in “Wicked World.” “Soljah” almost offends me with it’s semi-Reggae/semi-R&B sound. Jansen also does a risky thing and covers Kings of Leon’s “Use Somebody.” I don’t think the risk pays off.

It sounds like I really hate this album, which I don’t. It’s a little all over the place, stylistically and I just don’t see it as something original. There have been plenty of other female singer-songwriters before who have done it better. I’m not saying there’s no place for this album, but it’s not in my regularly circulating library. It just does nothing for me. Maybe a few more coffee shop shows and a few more character-building heartbreaks and she’ll really put out something stellar. Keep with it kid, if your heart’s in it; but maybe keep it to your intimate circle of people until you can bring someone else’s heart into it, too.

The Dodos - No Color

2011-03-22T10:47:00.000-07:00

I don’t know how to write objectively about music. So I’m not going to try especially hard to.

There’s this new-to-me band out right now called The Dodos. Last week they released a new album called No Color and it’s fantastic. I have been playing it nonstop this past week and talking about it to every person who will listen to me. It was slow to grow on me, it took me about one and a half listen throughs before my attention was grabbed, but I’m not sure how it took me that long. The album begins with some loud, insistent, guaranteed-to-grab-your-attention drumming. This insistent drumming, it turns out, is one of the main characteristics of this band and I love them for it. Mainly comprised of just two guys who share a crazy love of West African Ewe drumming and some guests depending on instrumentation needs, the Dodos play with form and rhythm and timing. The complexity of the lines happening and the way they interweave completely blows my mind. There is no bad song on this album, although there are three standout songs that I will skip to almost every time. The track that closes the album “Don’t Stop” has completely won my heart. It has this driving, striving sound through the verses and bridges – repetitive, fast drumming rhythms, distorted guitar, frantic guitar-picking – but when it hits the chorus, it’s like a ray of sunshine has just come out. The rhythm cuts to a half-time feel, the electric guitar has this bright melodic riff which gives you the same feeling you get during early summer days when the sun has reminded you why you continue to breathe every day and you are certain that you can rule the world without even trying. The chorus only happens once, making that breakthrough moment just that much more special. I have no idea what the lyrics are for the majority of this album; the vocal element just isn’t that commanding with this band and that may be part of the draw for me – I think it’s really challenging to have a really compelling sound without using the natural power of the human voice and the instinctive effect that poetic lyrics can have. These guys are just solid solid musicians. The drumming is unlike anything I typically hear in popular music today – it’s innovative, risky, difficult, progressive and the guitar technique is incredible! No one picks like that anymore.

You can download the track "Don't Stop" for free here!

On a day when the sun is shining and you have the opportunity to do some really fast-paced, high energy activities (like driving down the highway, running or riding a bike) listen to this album. It will prove to be a fantastic companion. But know, it is best listened to loud and fast.

For fans of: Panda Bear, Animal Collective, The Shins, Local Natives

Towards the Sun

2011-03-11T18:44:00.000-08:00

Alexi Murdoch
Towards the Sun

2011 is proving itself to be quite the year for high quality music. We’re only one quarter of the way into the year and I have at least three albums vying for “album of the year” already. This album by Alexi Murdoch is one of those. Towards the Sun is Murdoch’s first release since 2006’s Time Without Consequence. Although it’s been five years, the albums sound like they could be twins. Murdoch’s creamy voice is unchanged and his rich, simple orchestration continues. The lyrics are thoughtful and deep. It makes you wonder why it took so long. The album can be described in one word: warm. If you have the luxury of a few more words, “beautiful,” “honest,” “intimate” come to mind. Everything about it is warm, from the vocals, to the mixing and balance, to the lyrics. For most of the album, it seems to be Murdoch’s voice and his guitar, but at no point does it sound sparse or empty. The whole of the production makes it clear that this quality of music-making comes naturally, but not easily to Murdoch, making it all the more precious. It’s like a blanket for your soul. Murdoch's music is the sort you're likely to hear in the background of some show like Grey's Anatomy, or One Tree Hill, but if you're a purist, don't let that dissuade you from investigating this artist. It's downright great music. Pure and unadulterated by commercial influence. Although just released this week, there's a sense of timelessness when you listen to it -- like you've uncovered/rediscovered some great treasure in your grandparent's attic. Some may say the album is monotonous, but it’s the good kind of monotony … like the ocean is monotonous. My only problem is it’s only seven songs long; but even that length might be just perfect, keeping the whole on the beautiful side of monotony instead of the exhausting. Whatever the length, I love Alexi’s music and I love this album.

Music to … exist … by.

For fans of: Nick Drake, The Civil Wars, Ari Hest, James Taylor

Blessed

2011-03-01T17:36:00.001-08:00

My grandmother, Dodie, passed away in her sleep early this morning in her bed in Muncie, about the time that I was getting up to go to work in Cleveland. She was 96 and sharp as a tack on most days and not much duller on the rest. We're doing okay. It's hard to believe, and it took us by surprise. We were ready a couple of weeks ago when she went to the hospital, but she bounced back and was back to her normal self rather quickly. I think it's really hard on my parents and my dad's brothers and sister, especially.

I grew up with my grandma. She moved into our house when I was 8, after her husband died and she no longer desired to keep up the farmhouse where she was living by herself. We used to celebrate the anniversary of her move-in, every year with Fazoli's for their garlic-soaked breadsticks ... those really aren't fair to anyone in the world ... breath or bowels ... but they're so good.

The strangest thing for me right now is that life is continuing on as normal. I took a nap today after I found out, I finished the book I had been reading, I went for a run, I made dinner. I've cried a few times; I've chosen to do things in a different order on account of how I feel ... but mostly I feel numb. And sad. And weird. And normal. Which feels abnormal.

My mom told me I didn't need to come home, which is better for me because I have a busy week ... but I should've known she was lying ... because I'm pretty sure she is. I'm pretty sure I needed to call work, find someone to work for me tomorrow and drive home so I could be there tonight and at least tomorrow morning before coming back to go to Erie. I think this was a character defining time for me, and I blew it a little bit. I'm still thinking about finding someone to work for me Friday, so I can at least be home Thursday night and Friday morning before returning to Erie Friday night. But I think I've already missed a really important time.

Erie's playing Brahms' Ein Deutsches Requiem this week. Which is completely appropriate, but I don't know how I'm going to make it through. I'm about to try to do some score study and I'm almost fallen apart. Lord, give me strength.

The first words of the Requiem are "Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted." from Matthew 5:4
and the last words are "...Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their words do follow them." from Revelation 14:13

I don't think I will ever forget this concert.

Why Classical Music Won't Die

2011-02-05T12:11:00.000-08:00

The arts are having a hard time in this economy. Everyone is having a hard time in this economy, but the arts have been fighting for their right to party for even longer than this economy has been. I don't know when it started and I don't particularly care, but schools have for a very long time been faced with a choice between arts programs or sports programs and most of them have chosen sports over arts. This means an upcoming generation less exposed to the beauty of the arts. And all over the States, professional orchestras are folding and declaring bankruptcy under the financial strain of operating in this country. Others are cutting paychecks or rehearsals or seasons or benefits or players to save money and stay afloat. My own ensemble is many thousands of dollars in debt. And it sometimes seems that the classical arts are fighting a losing battle and we should probably go ahead and give up the ghost. But I don't think that time has yet come, and here are some reasons why.

1. The arts have been around, really since the beginning of civilization; that an economic meltdown could shut that down seems a little short-sighted.

2. Hearts, when exposed, are still moved -- across ages, across cultures, across socio-economic classes.

3. A creative generation, my generation, is rising up to start new groups, to restart old groups, and to take and redefine classical traditions.

4. Orchestras are starting to come around and see that this is a new time and they must operate with new tools ... they are Tweeting, touring, facebooking, making ticket deals, changing attendance rules (i.e. the Indianapolis Symphony allows you to bring your drinks into the conference hall; many orchestras now feature rush-hour concerts, designed and timed to be attended directly after work ... no special attire, just your presence), flash mobbing

In my mind's eye, and probably because I'm partial, the Indianapolis Symphony seems to be one of the few 52-week orchestras doing everything it can think of to catch up to the rest of the world, and I'm proud of them. And when I saw this video, that's when I knew that Classical Music won't die ... not in my lifetime at least. It will probably have to continue to change and adapt a bit, but it always has and I think it always will, I hope so anyway.

I Snow it!

2011-02-01T18:22:00.000-08:00

I write this from the midst of Snopocalypse/Icepocalypse 2011. Cleveland doesn't seem to be getting nearly what others are getting, but our due is certainly on its way.

There's something about snow that always makes me think of Calvin and Hobbes. Anybody else?

I shoveled our driveway today for about an hour and a half or so, I guess.

For the record, the following bands make excellent company for business like snow shoveling:

One last thought: Do yourself a favor, pay $7.99 on iTunes and buy The Civil Wars LP "Barton Hollow." It's truthfully one of the most beautiful albums I have he

ard in a long long time. Best $7.99 I've spent in a long time, too. Definitely better than the Sam Adams I bought for the same price ... too hoppy. :(

This is my finished result today:

Truth beats Self-Pity

2011-01-30T18:27:00.001-08:00

I have a tendency toward self-pity; I don't know if you've noticed that. I really seemed to notice it tonight, when I was sitting in the auditorium that is my new church, waiting for the service to start, when the lights go down and no one passing by will notice that I've come to church alone. So God opened my eyes to this self-pity and I prayed that He would move my mind away from that, away from myself and move it to the bigness of Him, of His love, of His purpose. And then we started singing. And we sang songs about the wonder of God, about the sovereignty of God, about His strength and His presence as our fortress, our refuge. And the worship was uplifting, even if I was standing by myself singing, I wasn't singing alone (although that didn't occur to me until right now) ... the point was, I was singing. And what it was that I was singing was True. When the singing ended and the lights came up, we greeted those around us, and two of the four people I know at the church now (two of the four people I met at women's group on Thursday) were standing within greeting distance from me. And I was comforted. And the sermon was good, there were things in it for me to chew on ... like "God is more present in the goodbyes than the hellos" speaking of Joseph in the Old Testament ... And then we sang again, more Truth.

Rob Bell at Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan, has given a couple of sermons about why we sing, and he always makes the point that sometimes we sing not because we feel like it, but because we want to feel like it; and sometimes we sing because we just need to have Truth come across our lips. And sometimes that's just enough, because that's where we are. And that's a little bit where I was tonight. And I can say now, from experience, that having Truth on your lips, really does make a difference in the things that are on your mind. I don't know which comes first, but I do know that they're related.

My Love's Too Big For You

2011-01-18T19:37:00.001-08:00

I have a confession to make: after sunset, I turn into a pumpkin. All my thinking generally becomes dark, maybe a little twisted and pretty morose. Most of the thoughts to follow surfaced after the sunset tonight. Also, I spent several hours in a car by myself today. Like 8+ hours. I still loved it all, but ... it might explain some things.

A friend of mine asked me over the summer how he could be a better friend.

Should someone ask you this question, unless they are asking about how they can be a good/better friend to you specifically ... DO NOT ANSWER IT! It's a trick. They don't mean it as a trick, but your ego means it as a trick. Although you (i.e. I) may feel you know all there is to know about being an awesome friend ... you (i.e. I) should not actually give voice to that particular feeling.

I, being ignorant of this self-destructive-ego-plot and tired and a wee bit prideful, answered his query as such: "You know what? I think you depend on your friends too much. You ask them to hold up too much of your identity. You need to find your strength in the Lord and not in your friends and not in yourself."

He walked out of the room. We haven't had a good conversation since then.

I could just slap myself for saying that. Perhaps it's true, but unless you are Jesus Christ Himself, you cannot say those things, especially not if (and I'm not saying he was) someone is asking you from a tender place of brokenness and vulnerability.

I realized tonight, that I was speaking to my friend of the speck in His eye looking through the lens of the plank in my own.

It struck me tonight that I am guilty of asking just as much, if not more, from my friends as that friend asks of his. I'm not saying it's bad to lean on your friends when you're down ... that's why God created us to live in community. Remember, it's not good for Man to be alone? That whole thing. But I am saying there are things that only Christ can do, that we sometimes ask other people to do.

Mine comes in this way: righteousness. I have been thinking for a long time that I am a bit of a legalist. And that I put my legalistic tendencies on my friends and acquaintances (as evidenced in my continual parting remark of "make good choices" ... it's cute and clever and funny for awhile, but eventually perhaps my friends just want to make whatever choices they want to make, even if they're not good ... and they should do that ... and I should still love them ... besides, who am I to know what is a good or bad choice? Some may be obvious, but most probably have a lot of gray areas.) And I strive pretty hard for righteousness, because I am a created rule-follower. Now, I'm more prone to break rules now than I used to be, but in general, if there are rules ... I follow them.

And for the most part, by God's grace, I do think that I strive pretty well toward righteousness. I screw up all the time, but I do pretty well.

But I think I ask, maybe not intentionally or obviously, the same sort of effort from my friends, and if they don't give that effort enough to satisfy me (because they don't want to, or they can't, or they don't understand, or value it, or they're too tired, or whatever) then I judge them (not always intentionally). This is a problem I think!

I don't think I do it intentionally almost ever, but I do not think I'm living in the marevlous light of Grace as much as I could be ... I sort of live in the shadows of Grace where I'm covered, but still mostly in charge of what's going on ... still sort of in control of my own thing ... expecting it of others as well.

Woe to my prideful heart!

I think I have been smothering my friends with my well-meaning, but slightly over-zealous love.

Sorry! I'll try to do better, to be better ... but wait, it's this trying that's the problem. Well, God and I will work on it.

Nurture

2011-01-12T19:22:00.000-08:00

Just a few thoughts on the importance of Nurture through a couple of stories about the importance of the people with whom we surround ourselves.

This past weekend I finally was able to spend Christmas with my family. We just barely missed Epiphany by three days, so we were almost still in the technical Christmas season. But whatever the liturgical, lunar, or standard American calendar said, it was Christmas for us. And it even almost felt like it. As part of the weekend, we took a family trip to the movies. In Indiana they are starting to do this really cool thing where once a month a bank offers a free movie to families of autistic children. You have to sign up ahead of time and you have to be on a special eligible listy thing, so it's really only for these families. It's great for so many reasons.

1. It's free. And these families already spend so much money on treatments and medicines and special lifestyles that the idea of taking the whole family to a movie (especially with ticket prices the way they are!) can make any math-proficient parent balk. Even well off families balk at going to movies.

2. The volume is lowered and the lights are raised. Now, it's not a movie for deaf kids. You can still hear the movie, it's just not so eardrum-shatteringly loud. And the lights aren't up all the way, just enough to keep kids from freaking out. It's a very comfortable environment, and they take special care to make sure everything is adjusted properly before leaving us to enjoy our movie in relative peace.

3. (Speaking of relative peace) All the other kids in there are autistic or related to autistic children. If a kid stands up on his seat or decides to walk around the theater or screams at the screen, it's completely fine. None of the parents are judging the parents of the child; they completely understand. How freeing it must be for those parents. Can you imagine? I'm sure many of them don't ever get to leave the house because they're afraid of what sort of scene their beloved child is going to cause and the people just won't understand. They'll call her a bad mother, or they'll scare other kids, or whatever. But here. Here is safe. What a great great thing.

4. Build up a little community of like-minded, similarly-situated people.

5. Access to information about financial services (it's sponsored by a bank, after all) to aid with medical bills, or anticipating extra expenses, etc. etc. but that are relevant and practical.

My nephew isn't exactly autistic, but he is definitely special needs owing to a severe illness when he was very young. He's a SUPER awesome kid, as are his parents and his younger sister. And I'm so excited they get to do this every month. It only costs them the gas to get to the theater (which still can be a bit). And my parents join them, so here my niece and nephew get to spend quality time with their grandparents and everyone enjoys themselves.

Anyway, we went to see "Yogi Bear." And I learned a very important lesson about environment that day. Yogi Bear is not going to win any Academy Awards. I had very low expectations for it. And let me tell you ... I thoroughly enjoyed myself. If one is going to see a movie like Yogi Bear, and one is even a little less than excited about it, one should go see Yogi Bear with a theater of autistic children. It is not important to them how good the acting is, or the fact that the pie-in-the-face routine is the oldest in the book ... and the most clearly set up. The number of times the running gag is used is irrelevant; it's always funny. Every time. These kids laugh and respond and engage and enjoy themselves. That's what they're supposed to do. So instead of thinking about all the things I could be doing instead of sitting there "wasting my time" on such a "sub par" movie; I laughed and teared up at all the "right" places. And when it was over, it felt like time well spent. Worth every mile I put on the car to get there, to share that movie with those kids, and with my family.

My second story is: I watched a documentary about Isaac Stern tonight. And it was. So great! And it continued to cement in my head the importance of your surroundings. My roommate was downstairs practicing her little fingers off on the piano and that made me want to practice. Then I needed to work on reeds, so I put in this documentary and surrounded myself with this fantastic violinist, hearing his thoughts on music and life and how to balance and engage both and how he got where he did and his reflections on his experiences and lessons ... that made me want to work on reeds more, and I saw in him a person I'd like to be, and indeed a person I actually have the seeds to become. I saw similarities between the two of us. It was like finding a kindred spirit right there in this world class super-famous musician.

I find myself easily influenced by my surroundings and I suspect I'm not alone in that ... well, obviously not in my surroundings, else how would I be influenced?

A few of my coworkers curse fairly regularly to release tension at work, so I now curse more freely. Whatever. But when I'm home, we don't curse. So I don't curse. And it's not a concious decision, it's just the tone of the time. And when I work with one girl who sings a lot, I sing a lot. And when I work with the one who dances, I dance. And when I work with the one who judges, I judge. When I hang out with my musician friends, I geek out on music. When I hang out with my Brothers and Sisters in Christ, I support and am supported in life. When I am around someone who deeply engages and thinks about life, I do the same.

I encourage you to look at your surroundings and see what there is in them that causes you to be there. What do you see in them that reflects who you want to become? What do you see in yourself that is reflecting your surroundings? As the Switchfoot song says "This is your life, are you who you want to be?" That's why I moved to Cleveland in the first place; I wasn't becoming the person I wanted to be, or rather I was becoming a person I didn't want to be ... and it would be foolish to think I continue to do the same things, but expect different results; something would have to change. So look at yourself, then look around you. This is your life, are you who you want to be? Are you surrounding yourself with people reflective of who you'd like to be? Or does something need to change? Some things we don't have control over. That's okay. See these things and acknowledge them, then see if you can do something to alter your reaction to them, because that you do always have control over ... technically.

Always watch children's movies with children. They're like vitamins for your innocence.

Waitress

2011-01-03T18:29:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had those moments, when you've just seen or heard or experienced something that you just know has completely changed you. But you have no idea when or how or why or what in particular it is that's changed. And you don't know how to process it.

It's like this thing that's happened has made you feel everything you could possibly feel at once, but there's so much to feel that instead you just don't feel anything at all. Like you're numb, except that you're experiencing everything.

I'm sitting here just like that. Feeling that, experiencing that. I would say that I want to make art like that, but that may be a privilege given only to those God really loves, and it may be a privilege you only ever get once in a lifetime, if you ever get it. And I would say I want to only experience art like that, but then I maybe really would become numb to it. So instead I'll just say that I'm thankful for this one thing.

I just watched the movie "Waitress." And it is now my intention to tell every single person I know, or meet, or see, or happen to pass by, to watch this movie. When I finally fall asleep and when I wake up in the morning, I will have probably forgotten this resolution which is unfortunate, but for now. Just let me say this:

Go watch this movie. Rent it. Buy it. It's totally worth it. If you buy it and hate it, I will buy it back from you. If I know you.

I wonder if Heaven feels like this only deeper and more real? You know, when all of your sins are removed, and your heart of stone is turned to a heart of flesh, and finally. Finally. Everything is as it should be, and there is no longer anything terribly horribly wrong with the world. Finally everything has been set to rights. This is probably a lot like what it feels like. Or this is maybe the closest on Earth I'll ever come.

I hope you like this movie. I'll feel terrible for talking like this if you don't. But if you don't, then I'll just be satisfied that this was God's own love letter to me, reminding me that my soul is not dead or asleep, just on a journey, making its way home, but it has not forgotten ... and nor should I.

Overrated

2010-12-18T19:48:00.000-08:00

I haven't typed extensively in a fairly long time. I did that marathon run of typing at the end of November to finish off NaNoWriMo. Which I did, but it took two days to write about 25,000 words. Which is a lot of typing. So I inadvertently gave my tiny muscles a little rest. Also, I've been really busy and exhausted at work. It feels surprisingly good to be typing again, and the rhythmic clicking of the keys on the keyboard is rather soothing ... much akin to the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal indicator in a car -- which is why I always use my turn signals.

This weekend is the bi-annual (that means every two years, right?) Wible family Christmas party. Every other year, on the even years, on the Saturday before or after Christmas, all the Wibles (so all the family on my dad's side) come to our house and hang out. Now, most people may groan at this thought, but that's because most people are not members of my family. My family kicks your family's butt. Well, we would, if we didn't love you so much. I do seriously wish every person on the planet could be a part of my family. I'll bet a great deal of the problems would be null if they spent some time with my family. Also probably some of the crises in Africa as well. We're pretty much the best. And super humble, too. Except for me. But somebody has to speak up for us. Anyway. Here's just a small story about my family. It's really a small story, because it's mostly about me.

Recently I have not been playing the oboe. Well, I haven't been practicing it. I have instead been spending 40+ hours at Starbucks or in my car or my bed ... but not really so much time in bed, mostly at work, or my car. Or my kitchen, but not cooking things for me; instead baking things for Starbucks. That's not important. I haven't been practicing and I've been feeling bad about it. But here's the thing, I haven't been feeling bad about it because I miss it; I feel bad about it because I actually don't really miss it; I just feel guilty for not practicing when I know I should and when I know I need to because I still have gigs I need to play and I need to not suck and bring everybody else down. As much as I do love to help and serve people and will go out of my way to do things to make life easier on others, I can't seem to make myself practice, which would be a great service to my principal player, my conductor and the rest of my colleagues. So I've been feeling guilty about it -- like I'm letting my colleagues down and I'm wasting my education.

I was telling my Aunt Marshmallow this (I used to call her Aunt Marshmallow, to help me distinguish between Aunt Chocolate ... I'll tell that story another time). And this is what my Aunt Marshmallow who is now retired so wisely said:

"Guilt is overrated."

Not kidding. I love it!

So my new plan for life: Work for NPR on All Songs Considered. But I'm still going to take auditions and stuff. Because I do still like to be involved in the music-making process somehow; and truthfully, God has given me a gift to do it well. And I just don't know what to make of it.

“The Contemplator” by Eugène Carrière

2010-11-17T17:30:00.000-08:00

I had a dream one night that I turned into a star. I spent my time glowing and whirling in space, dancing like I hadn’t danced since I was six, when I had my special twirling skirts. They had to go through a rigorous test of twirling ability in the stores before I gave my mom the nod of approval to purchase. The hours went by full of giggling and laughing with the other stars by my side. There were hundreds of us, no thousands. And we all had the most glorious time. Telling stories of our travels, our past lives, the things we’d seen from our special view up in the highest heights of the heavens. And yet time stood still as we twirled, since we weren’t depending on the sun to tell us when to begin and when to go to bed. We could spin and twirl and giggle and play as much as we should desire. A few of the rambunctious stars would have races and go whizzing by leaving nothing but the merest trail behind. The moon read us poems and the sun told us jokes. And oh! The things I saw from up there!

I saw the colors the Earth turns with the beginning of each new day and I saw the sky paintings from the moon when he would come and take his place on the stage. I saw the shapes the clouds would make, playing their own version of charades with us stars. And I could see the dolphins dancing, too. We in our heavens, they in their oceans. Playing with hearts light as a feather.

But the heartache I saw! Not in the heavens. Somehow the stars all get along. There is plenty of space there, but no one need ever be lonely or alone. There are always friends and somehow distance is very different there. There are no houses or walls. No fences or barriers. The suns arms can reach wherever they should pleace and there is no disappointment or need for alarm. There are no possessions and no need for possessions. No the heavens have no heartache, but for the heartache they see the humans make. The heartache they can see down on the Earth. There is noise made from construction as people seek to close themselves off from each other. And there is noise from the destruction as people seek to be alone with those who are alike. And there is so much darkness. The sun cannot go wherever it chooses, but only wherever people allow it. And there are clouds of black and brown, carrying in them not the healing and rejuvenating powers of rain and water, but the hurtful powers of carcinogens and pollution. If they do not seek to destroy others, they seek to destroy themselves. Power is all people want. Power over others. Power against others. Power over themselves. There is no freedom. There is so little joy. So many tears. So much crying. So little laughing. The sun doesn’t tell them jokes. She used to. People used to understand the words of the sun. They would laugh and play together until it was time for her to go away and for the moon to read them poetry. But now they don’t understand the sun’s words when she speaks. They sound like sirens and burn like a fire. People now must seek to protect themselves from her embrace, they do not remember the days when her touch was gentle and welcome. And the moon’s poems cannot be heard either. Every night he would write for them a new poem, about magic and hope. But now they only hear rumors and confusion and witchcraft. He still reads to them, but his voice grows softer and more feebler each night they don’t listen. So he reads to us. We hear him. And we like him, too. And he likes us.

And together we all laugh and dance and speak. There is no heartache up here. Even when a fellow star has lived and spun for a long long time, and he gets tired and finds he can spin no more, we do not cry and we do not mourn. We continue spinning. And so does he. He dons his finest glow and spins his fastest spin until he cannot hold himself together anymore and his joy in his life causes him to explode in beauty. Sometimes his explosion is so big, for he has had so much joy that it consumes that which is all around in. People are afraid of death. They are afraid to stop spinning. But it is not a bad thing. It is a joyous occasion. To go out glowing and bright and beautiful and then to rest, knowing one has spun every spin one has to spin. And to be consumed by someone else’s explosion is not scary. You have merely come to the end of your own spins as well. You will both get to rest together.

People don’t understand anymore. I think they used to understand. A long, long time ago. They would walk together and laugh and they would spin and dance, too. And they would tell jokes with the sun and read poetry with the moon and they would sing songs with the wind and they would dance with the rain and paint with the flowers. But they don’t do any of that anymore. Not very many of them, do, anyway. Sometimes a person will begin to understand. Sometimes a person comes along who hears the jokes of the sun and understands. Or hears the poetry of the moon and is consoled. Sometimes a person comes along who remembers what it used to be like. And when that happens, the stars spin a little faster and glow a little brighter and the sun’s jokes are a little funnier and the moon’s poetry a little deeper.

That night I was a star made me see so much. But soon the sun reminded me that I was not born to be a star. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to spin. In my own way, in my own space, in my own world. So I waved goodbye to my friends the spinning stars, and I told the sun one last joke and the moon read me one last poem and I returned to my bed, where I awoke the next morning and started my day with my very best twirling skirt.

The Morning after the Deluge

2010-11-01T20:44:00.001-07:00

It's November again. Which means it's time for NaNoWriMo. (National Novel Writing Month) I did this last year and I'm doing it again this year. Here's my plan: Take the adage "A picture's worth a thousand words" at face value. I'm taking 50 paintings/photographs and writing 1,000 words for each. (Give or take a few, because I'm just not that exact.) Here's what I wrote for today. This is totally raw and unedited. Don't judge. Just enjoy!

“The Morning after the Deluge” Joseph Mallord William Turner

The stern arms of the sun had reached the Earth, but one wouldn’t know for all the dust remaining in the air – suspended by some force made visible by those particles it now held firmly in place, preventing a clear image of anything from being formed.

I suppose we should have expected this sort of reaction. He had said we would die. This must be death, this lack of clarity. Nothing can be seen, everything seems to be a trick of the eye. Nothing can be heard, all is silent, and it is deafening. Nothing can be felt, except the utter loneliness. There is no air to breath. Only dust. Only brown.

Madness swirls around me, closing in, threatening the death I seem to have survived. But only just barely.

The funny thing is, just before this all happened – this explosion, this collapse – everything had actually become so very clear. I knew things I had never known before. I knew black. And I knew white. Now I seem to only know brown. I knew there was such a thing as choice. And that with choice came a right and a wrong. There was a choice I should make. And there was a choice I should not make. But I only knew this by making the choice I should not have made. Funny isn’t it? Only I’m not laughing. No one is laughing. There is no one left to laugh. But there were only three of us to begin with. Or were there four? Whatever the answer, now there is only me. And maybe Her. I hope there is still Her. It would be hard to go back to being just me again. Jackasses make terrible company. But I suppose they’re better than nothing. Where is she? Could she have died, too? Died the way I have? Or is she gone? Forever. Further and deeper than I can imagine because the fault was hers? She was the first to choose. She was the first to listen to that voice. To that fourth. To that uninvited guest. She was the first to see. To know. To feel. To die.

But I was her caretaker. I was her guardian. I let her out of my sight. I let her go too far. I let her go by herself. But was I to keep her by my side all the time? There was so much she wanted to know. That she wanted to know for herself. That I couldn’t teach her nearly as well as she could learn on her own. Should I have chained her to me? Denied her the knowledge? Now there is no knowledge denied to us. And this knowledge has become our chains. Our chains to the Earth. To the dirt.

I am chained to the dirt now. I shall depend on it. I shall offer it all of myself. And if it finds me worthy, it shall reward me. I will sow the seeds of my soul. Of my being. And I will reap the harvest of my survival. My existence.

And I will know what it means to hurt. And I will know what these muscles are for. And I will know what it means to hunger.

And I will know what it means to rest. And I will know what these muscles were made for. And I will know what it means to be satisfied … for a time.

The dust will settle. The world will not always be brown. Not forever. The sun will win the war. All shall be made clear again. Nothing has really changed. And nothing will ever be the same again, but it will be restored.

I will find her. And we will start anew. Both of us this time. Together. No longer alone, but one. We two will be one. We two will go forth from this moment and we two will never look back to what was. Because what was can never be again, but it must be. Everything is being remade every day. And it always will be. We two will never be the same, but we will always be we two.

From here we go on. There will be danger around every corner. There will be confusion and uncertainty. It will be exactly the opposite of what we were seeking and exactly what we asked for. We will know the difference between Good and Evil. But we will know it only because we once had Good and we know have only Evil. But it is something. And I suppose something is better than nothing.

We now walk a dangerous rope, and the net has been removed. Every day we must step very carefully or we risk losing the little we do have. But every day that we succeed will be cause for great celebration. But the fear will exhaust us. The grand celebration we will have planned will look very much like surrender to the evening sun and her sister stars. And in that surrender we shall remember what we once had and we shall feebly hope to have it once again before our eyes close.

And should they be opened anew, we two will once again walk, and ask, and seek, and work. We will talk and eat and cry and maybe laugh. We will fear. And we will learn. And we will love. For that’s all we have left now. We two. I will have her. She will have me. And we have we. And that’s how it will have to be. We have never been here before, but we will come to know this place as home. A modest, imperfect, passable place. A mere shadow of what was and we hope will be again. But if it’s not, we’ll make of it what we can. After all is said and done, perhaps the end really is only the beginning. I will wipe the dust from my eyes and step forward into the world that remains.

Invictus

2010-10-25T12:07:00.000-07:00

I watched Invictus with my roommate and her friend last night. While it certainly wasn't any sort of action flick packed with action, I absolutely loved it. This poem is the movie's namesake. I know it isn't theologically sound, necessarily, but I'm sure there's Truth in it and I love it.

Invictus

William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.

My Favorite Things

2010-10-14T11:16:00.001-07:00

Raindrops on roses

And whiskers on kittens

Brown copper kettles

And warm woolen mittens

You know that song from The Sound of Music. The famous one that has somehow become associated with Christmas, even though the only mention of anything remotely related to that holiday is the mention of brown paper packages tied up with strings. I was thinking about that song today and it got me to thinking about my own favorite things. Those things in the song are all nice, very well and good. But mostly not my favorite things, if I were to have to name them. So let’s go. Let’s name our favorite things. I’ll name mine, you name yours.

Mugs

Blankets

Tea

Books

Lists

Pictures of friends

Weddings

Dogs

Trees

Flowers

Water

Fire

That spot right in the middle of a man’s chest where your head fits perfectly

Hugs that demand all of your soul

Music

Words

Baking cookies for friends … and strangers

Reminding someone that Life really is Beautiful

Dancing to make people laugh

Singing really really loud

Gifts made by friends

Color

The weighty presence of a loved one right next to you

Sunrises

Laughing with someone until you cry or it hurts

That pair of jeans that makes you feel good no matter what

Black & White cookies

These are a few of my favorite things.

Cor Anglais

2010-10-03T16:31:00.000-07:00

This just in. The City of Birmingham (in England) is having principal English horn auditions. New goal: Get an English horn STAT, fly to England, take the audition and FIND HB!

Alright kids. Get on this prayer thing.

I'm only half-joking here.

Extended Stay

2010-10-02T20:33:00.000-07:00

I am proud and humbled (figure that one out) to say that Operation Appreciate/Love/Invest In Cleveland is going remarkably well. Each day is another baby step away from bitterness at my current living situation. But I have to say, I still feel like I am really on an extended stay or visit to the city -- despite the fact that I just wrote a rent check, I have now worked three weeks straight of nearly 40 hours each week at the same Starbucks location, I recognize most of my customers and they recognize me, and I have an employee parking pass attached to my windshield that makes an electric arm go up and down at my will.

So what makes a place feel like home? Can a place be home even when it doesn't feel like it? How does this whole thing work anyway?

Soundtrack

2010-09-28T11:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so clearly. The only way my last post is going to turn out with a happy ending is if my life actually turns into the movie I so frequently think it is.

And, of course, the determining factor of the tone and outcome of a movie is its soundtrack.

So I've begun trying to live my life with a soundtrack worthy of the happy ending I'm looking forward.

I'm thinking if I set up everything under my control to fall in line with an endearing indie film which speaks to the heart strings, then the things outside of my control must also fall in line, right? Circumstances succumb to peer pressure. I'm pretty sure.

So my beginning: Noah and the Whale.

If you want to feel like your real life is a beloved underground, underappreciated film where the male lead is Michael Cera, listen to this band. They are so charming in their naive authenticity. Bless them.

At this rate, I'm guessing H.B. ought to walk right back into my Starbucks some time in the next ... 10 months. Let's see.

If your life were a movie, what would your soundtrack be?

How Will He Find Me?

2010-09-24T22:27:00.000-07:00

My life scenario right now:

Attractive British customer comes into Starbucks.
Orders Earl Grey tea.
Barista makes Earl Grey tea.
Barista falls for Attractive British customer.
Attractive British customer continues a pattern of Earl Grey teas from Starbucks.
Barista makes Earl Grey tea.
Barista falls for Attractive British customer.
Again.
And Again.
And Again.
Attractive British customer does not come into Starbucks at normal time.
Barista tries not to look for him.
Attractive British customer comes into Starbucks later than normal.
Barista is relieved.
Attractive British customer congratulates Barista on making it to Friday.
Barista's mind overheats and blows a fuse.
Barista stumbles over incoherent word fragments.
Barista attempts small talk.
Barista fails.
Attractive British customer receives Earl Grey tea.
Attractive British customer walks away.

Later:
Barista learns Attractive British customer is to return to homeland that very day.
Barista is heartbroken.
Barista replays the scene for the entire day.
Barista also remembers a sighting of Attractive British customer hesitating at the door to Starbucks the previous day.
Attractive British customer decided not to come in a second time.
Barista creates following scenario in mind:
Attractive British customer knew he was leaving today.
Attractive British customer was going to tell me something yesterday, but decided against it ... line too long.
Attractive British customer came in later than normal on last day.
Attractive British customer seemed disappointed when leaving Barista's register.
Attractive British customer returned to Starbucks on last day, but Barista was already gone.
Attractive British customer must have come in later than normal to try to have conversation with Barista, maybe line would be shorter, less busy, more time to talk.
Attractive British customer was disappointed when leaving Barista's register because no time to talk was had.
Attractive British customer made second attempt to say goodbye.
Attractive British customer was in love with Barista.
Barista is simultaneously despondent and encouraged/happy/relieved.

No joke. That's what I thought today. The past three weeks of my life have led up to today ... the day I should've confessed my undying love for HB (Hot Brit ... whose real name is David). And now, I'll never get the chance.

So, Casey. I'd like to make a long-distance dedication to the love of my life, David from England who worked at the Cleveland Clinic for a short time ... but long enough to win my heart. David, if you're out there listening, come back to Cleveland. To see you in line was what I came into work for, what I waited for every shift, and the chance that you might come in a second time kept me happy and hoping for the rest of my six hours. I promise I'm not a freak. Awkward, yes. Freak, no. You'd like me if we ever got the chance to talk about more than looking forward to Friday. Maybe even a lot.

How Will He Find Me?
The Weepies

If I don't stand out like a star among the moons
If I am always late and he always backs away too soon
I walk the world with a skin so thin
I can wear no adequate protection
Everything comes crashing in.
If I'm too wide open for this place
But not enough for him to recognize my face

How will he find me
With no one's arms to gather me together?
How will he find me?
Only held by gravity, faded with uncertainty
No longer young and not that pretty
How will he ever find me?

It never seems to matter, the tears I cry.
There's a well inside of me that never runs dry
From being born I guess, and born in life until we die.
The music and the hope for love keep me alive
Still I wonder, how will he find me?

And what shall I do with a drunken heart
With goggle eyes and the troubling hunger
Reaching forward to trick mirror men
Leaning out and in again.
If love is a game how can it be creation?
And if I'm wasting my time
How will he find me?

One thing you'd leave said ...

2010-09-16T14:12:00.000-07:00

So I read the book Gilead by Marilynne Robinson this month for the IAM Reader's Guild. I've already mentioned this. The book is essentially one long letter, novel-length, from an elderly pastor to his young son. He writes to share with his son all the wisdom and stories he wishes he were going to live to tell him, but knows that when the son is old enough to understand them, he himself will be long gone.
A few days after finishing, I had a revelation about revelations.
At this point in my life, if I were going to leave one piece of information to my offspring, here's what I'd say:
The revelation that Life really is beautiful will often strike you at seemingly random times; treasure those moments; take even just a brief second to revel in them before returning to your regular scheduled programming. It will seem almost as if everything has suddenly become very vivid color - almost glossy - where before it has been flat and matte. And it will strike for a very short period of time, and then the world will return to being matte. It doesn't make life any less beautiful. And you will try to hold on to those vivid moments, especially when the world becomes grayscale, but don't waste too much time or energy trying to hard, because you won't succeed as well as you'd like to. But you should still try. And when the world does become grey, try to remember the vivid colors so as not to lose one second of your Life on this Earth.

It's not infinitely practical, but in my life, right now, I find it exceedingly important to remember.

What would you say?

Vocabular Nihilism

2010-09-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

What if you don't have anything to say?

I knew this would happen

2010-09-10T20:57:00.000-07:00

I knew if I didn't go home and write right away, I wouldn't remember what I wanted to say.
But I went to the party anyway. Because I wanted to be around people. And it was the right choice. It was very very good. But now I'm finally home, and after opening my mouth when I really should've kept it shut, I have nothing to say because I didn't go home and "open my mouth" and instead I kept it shut.
But basically, I live in Cleveland now. And I have been fighting this truth for a long time. I knew it was coming, but still, I tried to deny it. And I knew that eventually I was going to like it, but I tried to deny that, too. The good news is, it's been a week and I already like Cleveland. We had a rocky start, but nothing actually all that bad. Just exhausting.
Then tonight I went to a free dance showcase and there is just some plain old incredible stuff going on dance-wise in Cleveland. No joke. I was hugely hugely impressed.
Especially with Inlet Dance, which had been recommended to me and for which one of my new coworkers dances. Small world, eh?
The showcase in general, though. Top notch! I basically just smiled from ear to ear and actually found myself teary-eyed at all the beauty I saw.
It reminded me of the book I finished reading right before I went: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. It's the IAM Reader's Guild book of the month this month. Just as I was leaving the house to go to the showcase, I underlined this line:

I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave -- that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.

(The bold and italics are mine.)

It also makes me think of the Ingrid Michaelson song "Are We There Yet?" My favorite point in the song is where she gets to the line "This is too much for me to hold."

I'm currently really enthralled with the idea of "too much." This idea that there is so much beyond what we see and experience, and that it is to much to ever experience it all. And that should be frustrating, but instead I find it invigorating and encouraging. And I know there's too much, but I can't seem to get enough, but it's okay, because I know there's more. And the idea of putting for effort into even just trying to tap into that which lies beyond.
And to a certain extent, I think we're created for that. We're created to desire more than what we know or even can know. Because we're created to desire God. And there's so much more to Him, because He is everything. Things thought of and things forgotten.

I'm rambling again. I should not be allowed to communicate or attempt to communicate after 10 p.m. I normally say 11. But truthfully, I think it's 10. Seriously. My brain starts shutting down at 10. And I should probably respect this pattern and allow my body to try to follow suit. It'd probably thank me for it.

Chosen vs. Choosing

2010-08-21T12:08:00.001-07:00

What if the people who seem to have chosen you are not the ones you would have chosen?

Juxtapositions

2010-08-20T10:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life seems to be no respecter of persons.

I'm sitting in Finland surrounded by the Halo Ensemble and have just received the crushing news that one of our friends, Jesse, who's letting us use his room and live in his apartment for two weeks, has been diagnosed with meningitis after three days of headaches. My nephew has suffered from this. My heart is broken and crushed and I'm scared for him.

At the same time, six of my great great friends are playing charades and laughing (and even making me laugh) ... because they don't know about what's going on with Jesse, yet.

What are we supposed to make of this life? How can we laugh while the world is suffering at the same time?

My Current Short Story

2010-08-17T09:55:00.001-07:00

All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
- Edmund Burke

Perhaps my life may be more of a set of short stories than a full-blown novel. So here's a little bit about the story I'm currently writing.

The world is getting smaller and smaller and as the world shrinks, or flattens as some economists refer to it, more and more people, especially of my generation, are able to experience more and varied cultures. I have had the opportunity to travel a great deal, thanks to the open minds (and wallets) of my parents, and a great deal to my profession. I am a professional musician and I am learning every day just how many doors music, high-quality music, can open that are generally closed ... like China.

Several of my friends and I have started and are in the midst of birthing an international conductorless chamber orchestra called The Halo Ensemble. Basically, young people who are classically-trained musicians from around the world (i.e. Switzerland, Finland, Scotland, Canada, U.S.A., & Austria) are gathering together and playing concerts without a conductor. For those of us that are in the Church, it can seem like a very shallow calling compared to say ... full-time missionaries in Africa, but we feel our souls very much alive in this venture. And souls which are alive are the best flame to enlighten other souls through the Spirit.

Last summer our story setting was in Finland, among other places - a country plagued by apathy. We saw and heard through our concerts souls which had been shrouded by clouds of darkness, doubt, apathy, disbelief having the veils lifted and beginning to dare to feel the full weight of God's love on them. This summer we have returned to Finland to see how those hearts are faring, and to see what else God will do for them in our playing.

Our story is one of magic and mundane. We are nothing particularly special as individuals and we are doing nothing particularly extraordinary. I am reminded of Mother Theresa saying

There are no extraordinary acts; only ordinary acts done with extraordinary love.

And that's all we have to offer: extraordinary love, because it comes from Christ, the author and perfecter of faith and love.

But as a founding member of the ensemble, I know we have a great story of God's Grace to tell, in and through our ensemble. I love thinking about what other stories I could hear and tell at a conference like Donald Miller's. Being able to share that unadulterated time with other motivated people filled with extraordinary love, hearing their stories, sharing the stories of the Halo Ensemble, seeing how our stories overlap or how we can speak into each other's stories ... I can't really fathom what would come of it, but I imagine marvelous things. To hear Don's stories of starting and sticking with The Mentoring Project, can encourage and direct the path of this story I'm in now.

In Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, she says

There are probably a number of ways to tell your story right, and someone else may be able to tell you whether or not you've found one of these ways.

I envision this happening at the Living a Better Story seminar.

Here's a short video from Donald Miller about the seminar:

Living a Better Story Seminar from All Things Converge Podcast on Vimeo.

Cleveland Stories

2010-08-09T17:18:00.000-07:00

There are a few things that have been on my mind almost constantly as of late:
-- my move to Cleveland
-- Donald Miller's book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years
-- Commonway church's sermon series on story
And I'm beginning to come to a point where I can see all three of these things overlapping, as so many things in life are want to do, right?

So here's what I'm starting to think:
-- If I am the protagonist in my own story (as The Holiday points out)
-- And the elements that make a good story make a good life
-- And that one of the elements of a good story is character: character development, strong character and a character who wants something, worthy of wanting and obtaining through conflict
-- And if one of the reasons I'm moving to Cleveland is because my protagonist (me) has not been going down a path leading to the character she (I) wants to be and it would be foolish to think the other elements, like setting, could stay the same but the character would develop differently. I mean, that's counter to the laws of physics and nature, right?
-- Then perhaps now is one of those points of a story where something changes in the story; perhaps now is the time to tell a different story or take my current story to a different depth or change my perspective

So how do I do this? Or what will this look like?
That's sort of what's been consuming my thoughts these days and here are a couple of really practical small steps:
-- attend Donald Miller's seminar in Portland about living a story worth telling
-- take a few classes to work towards a M.A. in English (Creative Writing) at Cleveland State University, taking about one class a semester starting after the New Year

Of course, the seminar is really expensive and the classes are not so cheap either, I guess ... school never is. Sooo, you may have to sit through a few trial blog posts, but I'm going to enter a competition to just win a trip to the seminar. Seems cheap enough to me, right?

On another note, or two:
I had a delightful day sitting with one of my coworkers and talking about music
And my next musical recommendation is: LCD Soundsystem. They're pretty silly, but brought me a lot of joy on my bike ride today.
Also: I just saw a Mercedes-Benz commercial that sounded like Arcade Fire takes on Beethoven Symphony No. 9

The War Without

2010-08-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

Anyone who tells you that I am a good person is a big fat liar. I am NOT a good person and I have been learning this my whole life in numerous ways. And this week I have learned that I am ... a murderer.

There is always a war going on within me, I think. Paul talks about in in Scripture, the war between the flesh and the Spirit. But this week, it has been the war without. As in outside of me. I have done nothing but kill things, most notably: ants, spiders and crickets.

On Monday I started to eat a sandwich and it tasted like crap, so I figured the meat was probably old and I shouldn't eat it anymore, so I threw it away. I thought it was an awesome idea. So did all of the ants which heard the trumpet call of the stale bread hitting the trash bag. Tuesday I went to throw something away and opened the door under the sink to do so, only to discover the area under my sink was the Ritz-Carlton for ants. Dozens of ants had moved in and made themselves quite at home. The darkness was alive. With two antennae and six legs each. Things in large numbers really really freak me out. It doesn't matter how small the individual things are, if there are lots of them, or if I keep finding them like they won't die, I panic. This is one of my irrational fears. So I panicked. I didn't know what to do! I closed the door and sat down and tried to take deep breaths and cursed myself for not putting the trash bag in the outside trash can.
Then I went to the laundry room, took out the Windex and put on some shoes. Then with a wild war cry, I opened the door under the sink and yanked out the trash can, proceeding to spill its contents and residents onto the kitchen floor. Badly done! I quickly tried to stand the trash can back up, using only my fingernails, to give the ants as little surface area as possible over which to climb and take possession of the rest of my body. I proceeded to spray Windex everywhere. Anytime I saw anything moving or a little bit black, I sprayed it. Black lint? Sprayed. Brown piece of paper moving with the wind of the fan? Sprayed. Ant? Sprayed. My theory was this would kill the ants. And in fact, enough Windex does kill an ant. But mostly it stuns them. It was good enough. If I could stun them long enough to a. stomp them to death or b. throw the can into the trash outside, I would consider myself successful.
And successful I was, but not without feeling simultaneously victorious and shameful for just re-enacting moment by moment a scene from some chick flick romantic comedy bound to come out in the next fifteen years.

Yesterday, I got ready to climb into my shower and found myself about to share the space and peaceful moments of rejuvination with a large black spider. Most spiders I don't mind and I have been known to leave a spider alone when discovering him in that very same shower. I'm lazy and try to be considerate. But spiders this big and this black cannot be ignored. I tried to scare him off into disappearance with a few sprays of water - out of sight, out of mind. But the bugger (pardon the pun) just wouldn't have it. Gallant thing he was. I tried to drown him by just tossing handfuls of water in his direction. A few direct hits, and several times I swore I had won, and just as I breathed that sigh of relief and turned the water off, he sprang back to life, all eight of his limbs reanimated and began scrambling around again ... but not to hide, to reassert his dominion in that white porcelain land. That was it. The gauntlet had really been thrown now. No mercy. Finally I turned the tub on full blast and began to fill it like I was going to take a bath. He stopped struggling and seemed to curl into the ball I had seen so many times in the last three minutes. I wasn't falling for that trick again. I let it fill a little further, probably until it was an inch of water. Then I was nearly satisfied. I turned off the water and began to let it drain out. And I towered over that land that once was his and watched that king literally circle the drain. He was so big, he couldn't fit through the holes in the drain. So I pounded him with the shower a few times and broke his body into pieces that could fit. No funeral for him. A massacre. Without respect.

Then this morning at Starbucks, I reenacted the great Bathtub Battle of 2010 in the sinks and around the counters of the store, but in smaller scale. I had to have killed half a dozen crickets. They just kept coming back! Those suckers are freaking invincible! I used to love crickets because they're musical and rub their legs together to sing little songs, like a tiny street corner violinist. But not after today. Today their souls are as dark as their skin and I have waged a righteous war on their whole civilization. They will be destroyed.

No. I am not a good person. I am a ruthless insect killer. Beware. If you're a bug.

Growing

2010-08-01T18:24:00.000-07:00

First off, let me say ... "growth" as a noun is one of my least favorite words ever. It distresses me greatly. Ew. Growth. Gross.

Now that that's out of the way, shall we continue?

What is this business of growing exactly?
I feel like I can say I've grown significantly over the past year. Not physically. Sadly, that phase is over and done. But emotionally, spiritually, personally. I feel more stable. More well-rounded. More ... boring? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I just have a different definition of fun now. We speak of growing and growth and having grown, but what exactly does that mean? How do we do it? How can we measure it?
How do I know I've grown? Beats me! I haven't the foggiest idea. I haven't necessarily done anything to encourage growth. I haven't stood outside in sunshine and rain alternately. I haven't taken any extra spiritual vitamins. I don't know that my decision-making has necessarily changed all that much, but I do think that decisions are indicative of the growing process. But what about decision-making indicated having grown? The speed with which you make them? The accuracy? The appropriate weight, whatever that means?
What else indicates growth? How well you sleep? How much you read Scripture? How many people like you? How often or seldom you offend people?

What is this thing called growth? And how do we access it? Should we even access it?

Just something I was thinking about at work tonight.

The Exchange of Ideas

2010-07-20T11:18:00.000-07:00

I have the gift of having a handful of friends gathered at my house for the next few days prior to another friend's wedding. These friends are so thoughtful and intelligent, it shames me. And they have spent the last thirty minutes or so engaging in the exchange of ideas. I have not offered much of anything to the conversation, but I have listened and taken it in and been pondering. Not because I am more thoughtful, but because I am insecure about the things which happen in my head. I've realized that I would not have done well in the age of antiquity in the great Greek debates with Plato, Aristotle, etc. etc. all the great thinkers. I would have loved to just sit around and soak it all in, but I'm not sure the teachers would have let me get away with it, at some point they would have drawn me into conversation and then I would have choked on my insecurity and died.

I enjoy reading and writing ideas, but I do not so much enjoy speaking them. Well, I do. Just not when someone counters them. Which, you know, puts debate to bed quite quickly. I think I like reading and writing because it allows me to keep the ideas to myself, where they are safe. At least to me. They could be incomplete or even wrong, but they're safe and apparently in my own personal economy, safety and comfort are more valuable than truth. Which is a curious discovery, seeing as I value honesty and authenticity among the chief qualities of a person.

Poor Choices

2010-07-15T19:31:00.001-07:00

For being a person who notoriously says "Make Good Choices!" the title and subject of this post is pretty funny.

I have a friend who feels that she needs to take an action which I consider to be a poor choice. Not because I'm judging or whatever, but because I myself in my past life have felt the need to take the very same action and have regretted it ... every. single. time. Now, I do not feel that I have the right really to tell this friend that this choice is not-the-best because we're new friends. And she says she felt God leading her to take this action yesterday, but she didn't do it. And she says she feels it's something she needs to do for herself. But it's not going to go well. Not going to go well at all.

So I think to myself, if I were in that position and I took this action, feeling God was leading me to it, or okay-ing it at the very least, and it didn't go well, what would I think or do?

You know what I would think?

"WHY?! Why God, did you tell me or let me do this thing when it was clearly such a poor choice? Why did you lead me into a poor choice?"

And then I think, God would not lead me into a poor choice ... or would He?

Then I remember briefly that line from the Lord's prayer ... "And lead us not into temptation" ... although that's not necessarily what I think that means, but it's there ... nonetheless.

God can be a tricky little one (i.e. outsmarts me all the time). And I wonder if this is a thing my friend needs to do to learn a lesson about trusting Him or about His character and His provision. And maybe this is the most effective way for her to learn this lesson, or an important step in the process.

And now I wonder how many poor choices God has actually led me into or allowed me to make in order that I may learn lessons it would have taken me years or longer to learn.

What about you?

*Author's note: The poor choice is only destruction to the ego and one's pride. Not to the physical body.*

*Also note: My roommate made several poor, but appropriate, choices today ... as in, three servings of ice cream and no actual food.*

beforebehindbeside

2010-07-07T20:48:00.000-07:00

The harder I work, the more exhausted I become. The more I praise the LORD, dwelling on His works that His hands have made - His people, His land, His trees, His music, His canvas full of color and sound and light - the more refreshed I become. Essentially, the less work I do, the more I am refreshed. But it is neither easy nor nothing to praise the LORD. One must put aside all other earthly thoughts and cares and, wavering at first, seek the LORD in all His glory. Sometimes in the darkest places. But what is the depths of darkness to Him who is Light? Wherever we go, there shall be light, for when we rest in God, He has prmised us Himself to go with us - never to forsake or leave us. Never. No matter the darkness - small or big - the author and creator of Light and its essence will hem us in - before, behind, beside.

Before. Behind. Beside.

Beautiful Mess

2010-07-05T19:12:00.000-07:00

I am not one, but there are some people who are so full of Christ and the presence of the LORD that it cannot be contained within their bodies, within themselves and it spills out, this glorious outpouring - in music, in song, in words, in movement, in color. And it is a beautiful mess. It is a fearsome thing to behold. Humbling, penetrating, awful and awesome. To those who trust in the LORD, it is refreshing and exhausting and fearsome. To those who hide from Him it is crushing, exposing - ripping away their insecurities. But there are none that are neutral or unaffected because it is the Truth of who God Himself is and that cannot be escaped. God will not be ignored. Every knee will bow in that day. Some will plead for mercy, some will have faces that shine. None shall be silent and all shall be silent.

Melts in your Hand, Not in your Mouth

2010-05-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

I'd like some M&Ms to go with my own hard outer shell ... of cynicism. It seems that I have developed a little bit of an exoskeleton of cynicism, satire and critique. I think I have had a propensity for this since middle school, perhaps, or early high school. And that is not all bad, but to walk the satirical line is to walk a very fine line between entertaining and enraging. You see, I was reading this article which talks about the difference between cynicism and satire ... quite effectively, I might add.

For a person who spends so much time watching Jane Austen and chick flicks, I'm not sure how I've become so bitter, but I have. And now my women's group is doing a Beth Moore study about God's promises. I just did two days of the study at once (which is a lot) because I'm a slacker and because of the course of events recently, God has been breaking my heard over my pride, self-righteousness and disbelief in His promises. This study for me stuck a deep point. And I'm excited to talk it over with the women tonight and expound upon some of these ideas.

My only consolation, and it is not a good one, is that I am not the only one struggling with this. I am blessed with very good and honest friends who are open about their own struggles as I am with them. And we have been talking about how best to handle this bent toward the bitter that we seem to be taking. Isn't it sad that my consolation isn't in the faithfulness of God despite my own lack, or of His forgiveness of all my sins, that this disbelief in particular won't be held against me? No, my consolation is that other people are as terrible as I am. (Not that I think of my friends as terrible, just myself.)

So anyway, we haven't come up with a lot of practical solutions to this issue, but we have decided that being aware of it is a significant step and that we will try to encourage each other toward a positive manner.

But what about you? Do you struggle with this too? What do you recommend?

I've heard starting the day with smiling, and it's small, but I'm going to give it a go ... in good faith.

If I were an M&M, I'd probably be the green one because green is associated with jealousy, and that somehow seems appropriate. The difference between that hard candy shell and mine is that theirs tastes delicious and mine tastes ... well, bitter.

A Review: I Am Hutterite

2010-05-24T17:09:00.001-07:00

I have joined a program called BookSneeze where a publishing company gives me a selection of books from which to choose, I pick one, read it and write a review, to be published on my blog and a major retailers website. Then it happens all over again. So. Here is my very first review. Oh joy!

Mary-Ann Kirby’s book I Am Hutterite is an awkward but occasionally endearing look into a community most have never even heard of, much less know anything about. I was definitely among the ignorant prior to reading the book, and anyone I’ve talked to since has also been in that category. The Hutterites are a community of exiles from Europe/Russia to the United States and Canada in the late eighteenth-centry. Though not a completely isolated commune, the Hutterites pride themselves on a distance from worldly ways and with an affinity for hard work, routine, structure and community. Kirby’s first-hand knowledge of the life of Hutterite colonies is a treat for readers and the authenticity of what she has to share is clear. Sometimes, however, that authenticity also gets in the way of the delivery. The narrative is generally dry and matter-of-fact and frequently boring. But there are enough touches of humor and sparks of brilliance that make the book feel less like a waste-of-time and more like an education. The book varies in tone from a young girl’s diary to a light history book to a language lesson as Kirby inserts Hutterisch (the language of the Hutterites, a variation on high German) with inconsistent and awkward English translations. She does, however, include a lexicon in the back of the book. Despite its faults, it is still an honest and unique look at a way of life vastly foreign to the majority of the Western world. I am not entirely sorry I read it and I would recommend it to a friend interested in this sort of writing.

Awake My Soul

2010-05-05T19:57:00.000-07:00

Awake My Soul

Mumford & Sons

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes

I struggle to find any truth in your lies

And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know

This weakness I feel I must finally show

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all

But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall

Lend me your eyes, I can change what you see

But your soul you must keep totally free

Awake my soul, awake my soul

For you were made to meet your maker

Animation vs. Live Action

2010-04-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

No, this is not a debate about the merits of animation or live action films. Or about adaptations of books. Or anything as deeply intellectual as that.

Here's the question:

Why is animation so lovable? Why are animated characters so much more lovable than real people sometimes?

I'm watching Wall•E right now. And I'm about 8 or so minutes in and he's absolutely adorable! And he's 1. a robot and 2. animated. Very words have even been said so far, and yet you feel this deep connection with this character that's been created. I mean ... you even like the animated cockroach! For goodness sake.

What is it about animation that makes it immediately more accessible than live action? Is it because we watch films to escape and animation, being not real, allows us full escape? Is it because we have complete control over how animation appears because we ourselves are the creators and controllers of it? We control the virtues and flaws of the animated characters, so we accentuate those said virtues and minimize the flaws? And there have to be flaws. If there aren't flaws than we can't identify with said character at all and there is no catharsis or connection I think.

Is it because something about animation reminds us of our childhood, which we long to access and free? Is it because animation comes from the human imagination, which, as it turns out is one of the most beautiful things in all of God's creation?

Generally I've found recently that the movies I feel most guilty about watching are romantic comedies (maybe appropriately so). And sometimes I long for my life to be most like the lives of the characters in those films. But the films which really affect me and which I'll watch over and over again and will relate to most, those are the animated ones. And maybe it's just because I live in a time of really high-class, high-quality animation films ... especially from Pixar. Whatever or whyever, I love animated movies.

Twitter Made Me Do It

2010-04-28T20:24:00.001-07:00

I was just on Twitter and saw that "#Dearsomeone" was a trending topic on Twitter. That means a lot of people are using that phrase in their thoughts. So I read a few of them. And now I feel like I've been let into a secret room that's normally kept carefully guarded. This leads to two thoughts.

1. There is a lot of heartbreak in this world. And suddenly I felt very much not alone. Sometimes we need to be reminded that we are not the only people to have broken hearts. Not because we need to belittle our brokenness, but I think in order to fully heal, we need to dwell in and acknowledge the heartbreak. It's part of this world we live in. It's part of now. It's part of the moment. It's part of the life. Just as much as sunshine is. And in order to really feel and acknowledge it, we need to know we're not alone. That there is no shame in experiencing heartbreak. And. That other people seem to have survived it. So we probably will too. There is hope in heartbreak ... but only in community. Even Twitter community.

Which leads to the second thought.

2. I feel like I know these people. I frequently experience this. Especially with Relevant Magazine. I follow their Twitter feed. I listen to their podcast. I subscribe to their magazine. I respond to some of their questions. And sometimes I get a response back. And I have found myself before in conversation referencing something I heard a staff member say as something "my friend" said. Then I catch myself. This is especially embarrassing when I'm talking to one of my actual friends who is also actually friends with a few of the Relevant staff members. But what is this virtual community doing to us and our minds and our actual sense of community and knowing and being known. I know this is a common and very popular comment ground. But what do you think?

What do you make of this virtual community we have?

Acknowledgment

2010-04-28T12:03:00.001-07:00

Because I went to NCSA and I watched movies there, I've learned to always sit through the credits and acknowledge all the people who worked to make the film happen. If a single one of them was missing, the movie would not be. So I try to read the acknowledgments of a book, too - especially if I like the author. So I read the thanks in Donald Miller's book and now I want to be one of those people mentioned - maybe in his book, maybe in someone else's, maybe just in someone's life. I would like to be thanked for helping someone finish a project, realize a dream, obtain a goal and not merely stand by.

Chicago: 14, Cleveland: 15

2010-04-26T08:41:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been debating for a long time now. Weighing my options trying to decide where to move in the fall, after all the adventures of the Halo Ensemble in Europe have come to a close. Chicago is where my heart is and looks like where Halo will be ... eventually. But when it came down to it, Cleveland made the most sense and has the most to offer for me. So I'm going to keep playing in the Erie Philharmonic (if they'll keep me) and I'll keep working at Starbucks (if they'll let me transfer) and I'm going to try to save money, pay off more of my student loans and credit card bills and get an English horn, etc etc. And I'm going to do it all in ... Cleveland. Let the new chapter begin! Cleveland's a little bit like my own personal Ninevah, and I can't say I feel particularly called there, but it does seem that I am most set-up for life there. So here goes. I don't want to be eaten by a big fish, even if I do get spit back up eventually. I can't imagine how many showers I'd have to take to wash that stench off.

Poverty

2010-04-25T12:53:00.001-07:00

I've made a very interesting discovery this week. I am poor. I mean, really. Like according to America, I live below the poverty line. But I don't feel poor! Isn't that great? I know, weird thing to rejoice about, but it makes me feel a lot better. I have always thought I've been moderately good with my money, but things have been getting tighter and tighter these days and I thought it was because I've been irresponsible. And it's true, there are some unnecessary purchases that I've made. But the truth is ... I'm just poor! Luckily, I have very supportive, very kind parents, who let me live in their beautiful home rent-free and who let me drive their nice car when I have to go long distances and who let me eat all their food. Hence not feeling poor. And there's a big announcement coming up tomorrow that will also relate to this topic, but man. It's a relief to know I'm not as irresponsible as I've been thinking! But I still keep offending people and saying the wrong things, apparently. Still have to work on that ...

The thing about Ugly Betty ...

2010-04-21T11:10:00.000-07:00

... and Pride & Prejudice

... and probably many, if not most, other girlie stories. I think it's less about the man being initially not-attracted and then an attachment forming (i.e. Daniel & Betty, Lizzie & Darcy) and less about changing minds, and more about actually changing. Daniel was promiscuous and shallow. Betty was uptight and unfashionable. But through Betty's continual good influence, Daniel deepens and softens, but strengthens. And comes find himself genuinely caring for someone (Betty, of course!). And Betty changes, too. Becoming bolder and more aware, but still true to herself. And Darcy was prideful and filled with disdain, but because of Lizzie changed. And Lizzie was prejudice and quick to judge, but later acknowledges her judgments to have been wrong. (Interestingly enough, the things she was most wrong about were related to her. How often does that happen to us? We can see other people's situations so much more clearly than our own. And it probably ought to be the other way around.)

We want to be a force for good, I think. So we're drawn to stories where the characters are flawed, but in the same way/degree we're flawed (so we can identify with them), but who manage to positively affect someone else's life.

It was important that Daniel end up the way he did. It was a sort of redemption. And we need stories of redemption. We need to know both 1. we can change and 2. we can affect change. Especially by wholly ourselves -- like Betty.

It is significant that neither case set out to change the other, but it was a natural process -- there was something intrinsically attractive about the nature of the other person that drew the other person into their life and their way ... each slowly transforming the other.

Given the option between love at first sight and this slow transformation, I think I'd choose the latter. There is something very romantic about love at first sight, but something more enduring about the metamorphosis -- more organic, more secure, more lasting and deeper ... but I think this is only to me, or at least, not for everyone.

As a side note, I was at work today and overheard the mother of a girl I've know for years saying her daughter had receive a fullbright, etc. etc. "my daughter's so awesome" sort of things, but with such an air of nonchalance that it was even more annoying like "of course my daughter received a fullbright ... she's brilliant and my daughter! She got that brilliance from somewhere, you know?" Anyway, I found myself judgmental and annoyed (in case you didn't pick up on that) and then I wanted to go get a fullbright. I mean, I've wanted to get a fullbright for a long time anyway, and have looked into the process several times, but have found other things to do, other ways to live. And that ought to be fine. I mean, I have a job in an orchestra! And am a founding member of an exciting new musical venture! Beat that. But still, I feel the need to prove to that mother and that daughter that I'm just as smart as she is. That I can be smart, too. But I know I'm smart. (Not to brag.) And I've been the places she's been before. (Again, not to brag.) And my story is just a different story and my journey has a different path. Not better or worse. Just. Different. But still ... Grr ...

Old War Stories

2010-04-20T13:20:00.000-07:00

I'm reading through the Bible chronologically with my friend Julie. She lives in Austria right now. Isn't that fun?! We're reading the Bible together, even though we live very VERY far apart on a regular basis. Anyway. Right now I'm reading about David and his life and adventures as a rogue soldier. Did you realize he's kind of like the original Robin Hood? Running away from the king? An outlaw? Robbing from the rich to give to the poor? It's great! Anyway. So I'm reading through 2 Samuel and 1 Chronicles today. Super exciting right? Actually ... yeah! I was reading these stories of David's Mighty Men and began to hear them in the same voice that you hear veteran's talk about the battles they were a part of. I realized ... war stories! These are just old war stories. Told by these old men who shared these experiences together. I mean, obviously they're IMPORTANT war stories, but still ... they're just old war stories. Isn't it great? Can't you just imagine these old men writing down these stories going ... "remember that time Benaiah chased that lion down into a pit and killed it even though it was snowing and icy?" or "what about that time the whole army chickened out and Eleazar and I were the only ones who would fight the Philistines and God gave us victory anyway?" The Old Testament takes on a different light when you remember that people are people ... even Old Testament people ... and that people have always been people. They're just stories. Some about war. Some about love. All about life.

To Finish or Not To Finish

2010-04-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

Related to the last post and Amy's thoughtful and honest commentary, I got to thinking.

I am reading a book right now called Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry. It's pretty marvelous. I'm really enjoying it. Even so, I find myself flipping to the back page and calculating how many pages I have left to read until it's finished. If I read x number of pages per day, it will take me y days to finish. Could I finish it today? And yet, I really like the book! So why am I looking to the back to see how soon it will be over? Why am I even reading? Is it only to check it off my to-do list too? Is this typical of our get-it-done culture? Maybe my generation, or my part of the generation ... the culturally-aware Christian group who tries to simultaneously simplify their lifestyle and increase their impact ... has moved on from trying to accumulate stuff to trying to accumulate accomplishments. It's not about how much you attain, but how much you achieve, how much you can check off your to-do list. Even how many stories you have to tell. Stories are great, but maybe we're meant to live them, not tell them?

I'm thinking about starting something that I know I won't be able to finish, something that will last my lifetime and maybe beyond. A lot of those things are already involved in my life. You know, being part of a family, creating a family (well, I haven't gotten quite there), being a Christian, being a musician, etc. etc. But what if I intentionally pursued something that I could never finish, never check off my to-do list. What if I couldn't even put it on my to-do list?

Any suggestions?

To Do Lists

2010-04-19T12:30:00.000-07:00

It's Monday and I've had a rather productive day thus far. But my productivity seems to have slowed to a near stop. And I just realized that I will never get everything done until I die. I'm never going to be able to accomplish everything on my "to do" list and then be finished with those lists forever. This depresses me a little and threatens to extinguish completely what little drive remains in today. What do you do with this thought?

Questions and Conversations

2010-04-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It's been a much longer process than I would've liked - because I allowed myself to read only one chapter per day. But I'm so glad I took the time. I didn't want to miss anything and even though I'm sure there are things I've already forgotten, I'm equally sure there are lessons that have sunk deep into me - through my skin and into my marrow - waiting and working to change me. But to say a book changed me (even one of Donald Miller's books) is false and unfair. It is unfair pressure on the book and the author; it is unfair simplicity ascribed to my divinely complex personhood. A book cannot change me. Only I can change me. And yet, even as I type that, I know it is untrue. I want it to be true, but it's not. I can feel God tapping me on the shoulder, forcing me to turn around and sigh. Because not even I can do that. Only God can change me. He is the only one who knows my true capacity. My desires, my potential and how to realize them. He is the only one who can sort through my complexities and make sense of it all. But a book can make me think, and ask questions and start conversations. So may I begin these conversations with God about "what happens now?" and "what if?"

Following a Fast

2010-04-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

Now that Lent has ended and we are a full week into the Easter season, I thought I would write a post about my response to my experience these last 7 weeks.

I honestly had no idea what I was expecting out of this Lenten season, and I didn't really have any idea even why I entered into it in the first place. If I'm completely honest and spent some time evaluating my past experiences, I think the times I've had no idea what to expect have blown me away far more than times when I've had expectations .... even if they're low. I was reading in A Million Miles that Denmark is the happiest nation in the world. Because they have low expectations. This has been my philosophy for a long time, that if I have low expectations, then they are either met or exceeded. However, if I have no expectations, it still leaves room for surprise.

So Lent.

Week one = excited about the challenge; even grocery shopping because a life experience; filled with intention and unity with the Israelites (who aren't even involved with Lent)

Week two = accidental cheating, but grace for myself abounded, still excited, but a little less time and will to experiment with new recipes

Week three = becoming more difficult, life gets to be more stressful, or seems that way

Week four = A little better, but still hard. Body has really started rebelling. Lots of sleeping, lots of other parts breaking down and malfunctioning.

Week five = Ready to completely throw in the towel by Saturday (community kept me going. I was moments from quitting completely, but my small group encouraged me to make it the last couple of weeks and found things for me to eat)

Week six = Surviving day by day. Experimenting almost completely ended. Generally not eating or eating the same thing (pasta plain or with pesto) every day. However, the week is marked by a point of brokenness at the Lord's hand. Would I have heard His voice so clearly or so poignantly if I had not been carefully breaking down my physical dependencies through the previous five weeks? Don't think so.

Week seven = Not willing to go out with a bang, trying just to make it through. I really wanted to finish über successful, including a complete fast from everything but water from Good Friday service until Easter. Gave up at dinner on Saturday ... too isolated, too hungry, too irritable. Everyone was suffering, me probably least of all. That's sort of the opposite of the point.

At Easter, it was glorious! Everyone asked me if I just completely feasted and went crazy. But I've been long enough in church to know that that is the best way to make yourself sick after fasting. My stomach had literally grown probably a full size smaller, so even eating my fill of meat was significantly less than it had been. I tried to carefully work myself back into eating my normal diet. But the feast itself wasn't the point, it was the option to feast that was the point. It was knowing I was free. Free to eat anything I wanted. Free to listen to anything I wanted. Free to do anything at all. The metaphor is clear. Christ died to set us free. And Paul says should we sin more so we can be forgiven more? Just because I'm free from my fast, should I eat the whole angel food cake myself? No! I will still get a stomach ache. Just because I'm free from the consequences of sin, should I sleep with every man I desire? No! I will still do serious damage to my body and my spirit.

Now that I've been fast free for a week, I miss it a little already. I eat way more frequently, which Americans will probably say is good, but honestly, it's not necessarily. I eat now because I can and because it's there, not because I actually need it. It's surprising to me that it's only taken a week for me to get back to this point. I will miss the physical plus of losing weight because of the fast, although that was not the point or even a consideration when I chose this fast, or it chose me. I also miss the intention I had. I still feel somehow guilty when I listen to non-Christian music, like I'm still cheating on my fast, like I should still be choosing to listen to my "normal" music. Like I was visiting friends in California for seven weeks and when I return to Indiana, I feel as if I should still be calling my friends in California every day. Although, music is not people and you don't have a relationship with its soul the way you do with peoples'.

Anyway. I am now beginning to wonder how to balance these two extreme worlds - 40 days of very strict fasting with a lifetime of American excess. Where is the balance? I'd like to say I can listen to my body and it will tell me, but I don't think I can trust it. I think it needs some rules, not strict ones, just some boundaries to prevent excess. The balance between two worlds, isn't that really where much of this life is spent?

The Best Birthday Ever

2010-04-10T15:55:00.000-07:00

My birthday was this past week. It was not the best birthday ever, although it was very pleasant.

The best birthday ever ... that I can remember ... was my 20th birthday and here's why:

Daisies.

Yup. My sophomore year of college, I had my own room on the same floor as my best friends'. I, being from a small town in Indiana and then living in the South, never locked my door. Seriously. If something got stolen (which it never did for real), I was going to be okay with that. And sometimes people needed things that I had when I was not around, so I just left my door unlocked. Of course, that is bound to lead to unexpected discoveries and practical jokes. More than once I returned to my room after class and opened the door to find Cary-from-down-the-hall asleep in the papasan chair. And whenever I would see that, I would smile and quietly close the door, puttering down to another friend's room. That was why I left my door unlocked. Cary needed a place that was clean and quiet ... a place to rest and retreat ... and I could offer that.

So on my 20th birthday, I went to class. And when I came back from class, I opened my door to find a veritable daisy explosion before my eyes. There had to be no less that two dozen vases of assorted shapes and sizes filled with handfuls of daisies. There were some actual vases and several makeshift ones as well ... emptied bottles of water, mostly.

Daisies are my very favorite flower. They are commonplace, unassuming, and yet, beautiful. I dare you not to smile when you come across daisies. [I don't actually dare you to do that, because if you happen to be able to, which is I'm sure possible, then 1. I lose and 2. that's really sad.] And there they were, everywhere I looked there was a vase of daisies clearly visible. There were so many vases that even a week later, I was still discovering new ones.

It's pretty simple. No rock climbing, or death defying, or expensive shopping trips. But I really felt loved that day, that moment, when I walked into my room and was greeted by a visible expression of my friends' care for me. They weren't even there when I found it, but they were at the same time. In each of those flowers, telling me a story of joy and leaving me a message of love.

Sometimes I forget that story, but I hope I keep remembering it at just the right time, so I remember how important life is. And how great people can be.

"I know the heart of Life is good."

-John Mayer

Good Friday and Children

2010-04-02T17:33:00.000-07:00

I just finished with a Good Friday service at my church. It was a Stations of the Cross experience. There were five stations, each accompanied by a portion of the crucifixion story of Christ, a reflection and an action of response. It was good. Very good. While I was going through the Stations, my visits lined up with a mother and her three daughters. The oldest was probably 13. The youngest, probably ... 7? I'm really terrible at guessing age. And weight. Those carnival guys win big on me every time. Anyway. One of the stations pointed specifically to the brokenness in the world, for which Jesus died. It was a flash movie filled with tragic images from the world - natural disasters, the holocaust, starvation, abandonment, massacres, accidents, explosions. It was pretty ... dark. And this mother stood with her three young daughters and watched it and reflected on it. And that was amazing to me. At first, I didn't really think anything of it. But then it hit me as they walked away ... it seems so strange to take children to a Good Friday service. Almost bad parenting, and borderline extreme/brainwashing. But I admire those parents. This world is broken. And though it's true that we don't want our children to experience any more of that brokenness and pain than we have to, although we want to shield them as much as we can, want to bear the weight of it for them, we cannot. They will encounter the reality of this world the second they step out the front door. There is no shield, there is no protection. But to enter into that pain with your children. To acknowledge it. To recognize it. Is somehow to take away its power. It's still horrible, but the brokenness of the world does not have to become your brokenness.

I do not particularly want to have children, or if I do have them ever, I'd rather adopt them at an older age -- where no one else wants them, where they're almost beyond help. Part of why i don't want to have them is that I don't want to break them. But I'm learning, from my friends who have children, that kids are resilient and much stronger than I'm inclined to think. Madeleine L'Engle, of A Wrinkle in Time fame, has a quote that says something like "If you have something important to say, put it in a book. It it's really important, put it in a children's book." There is something in a child's spirit that can endure so much more than adults can, I think. They are not tired. They have not been disillusioned. Their imaginations (and therefore their hope for something better) are still fully intact and functioning at optimum levels.

And no one really knows how to raise them, children. But somehow, we all have gotten to be adults, who are, and we're none the worse for the wear. We all have problems and we all have victories.

I hope that mother and father go home with their children and talk about what they thought about, what they saw, and the hope that we have through it. Perhaps it is bad parenting to expose young children to that pain without the hope of redemption, but because we have Christ, because we have Hope and because that does not HAVE to be the end of our lives, I think it is beautiful and right and strong and hard.

Life and Movies

2010-04-01T13:13:00.000-07:00

As you know, I'm a fan of Donald Miller's and at some point in the past couple of days he's suggested (not personally) that I try writing a scene from my life, because 1. our life is a story made up of memorable scenes and 2. writers should write every day, like musicians should practice. Now, I don't consider myself a writer, but I do like to write.

So I've been wracking my brain to come up with a memorable scene for me to write about. And I can't come up with anything. All I come up with are intensely boring or painful scenes ... neither one do i want to write about. And the ones I do come up with that I could write about are not more like something out of a movie.

And that got me thinking. Why do we so frequently refer to events of our lives as "just like a movie"? Why don't we ever watch movies and say with the same sort of fondness "that's just like real life"? What's wrong with real life? Okay, so I know what's wrong with real life. People say mean things to and about each other. People hurt each other. We get disappointed. I get it. But sometimes life is all right. Just the way it is. It doesn't need to be like a movie.

But with that said, I'm watching Driving Miss Daisy right now. I've tried to watch this movie/play so many times through my life, but have never been able to get all the way through it. But watching this movie now makes me understand my grandmother a little bit more. My mom's mom, that is. I think she and Miss Daisy have quite a bit in common. Quite a bit. I wonder if I'll interact with her any differently after seeing this.

Family Stories

2010-03-28T21:15:00.000-07:00

I had breakfast with my uncle and grandmother the other morning. It was a mix of delightful and annoying ... as interactions with families tend to be. But it was a lot more delightful than it was annoying. I got to hear a lot of stories I'd never heard before and learn a little bit more about my uncle, grandmother and grandfather. The whole experience reminded me of a project I once wanted to do. It renewed my desire to pursue this project. I would like to take an entire year and drive around the country, living with family members and collecting stories about their lives. Hearing things they remember, especially as it pertains to my grandmother and grandfather on my dad's side. Just in the one hour I spent with one uncle and my grandmother I heard at least three new stories. I know my cousins all have something to share, and we seem to be a family of storytellers.

I have, as you know, been reading a lot of Donald Miller lately and his book, along with his blog, ar encouraging me to try to figure out a way to do this.

Anybody have any ideas of grants I can try to get for this little project of mine?

I have some other, not-expensive ideas for something similar as well. For example, a family collective National Novel Writing Project with each arm of the family being assigned to about 1200 words of story from family life. It would be less expensive and less work for me, but more work for my family and would be great for their own growth, but I would be less a part of the process ... although we'd still get to read each other's stories. I've thought about also binding the collection of stories and giving them as gifts as part of Advent Conspiracy and at our family gathering having the authors of the stories read them out loud and recording it for my grandmother, since her eyesight is not the best anymore.

So that's an alternative to the big project, but it's not quite as fun.

Any ideas for me or for yourself?

Mean People

2010-03-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

I tried watching Rain Man last night. I couldn't finish it. It was too difficult. Dustin Hoffman does a marvelous job in that role. Seriously. And I guess Tom Cruise does, too. (P.S. I did NOT know both of them were in that movie. Crazy?!) I could not watch Charlie Babbitt treat his brother with such contempt, such anger, such self-serving. Partially because it is sickening to see humanity so base, so far from what we were created to be ... it must have been a little taste of how God feels when He looks down at His creation gone so far astray. When I turned off the t.v., that must be a small part of what it's like when God turns His back to what His beloveds do. But I did not turn the t.v. back on and have chosen today not to finish the movie. I normally have a problem with not finishing things ... to an extent, at least (I also love to run away from things) ... but I am trying, as it comes up, to learn to let things go unfinished and be okay with that. I'm sure the movie is completely redeemed by the end, after all, it's a much-loved classic.

But I think what is more painful is that in the character of Charlie Babbitt, I also see reflections of myself. This is sometimes the marvelous thing about movies (sometimes it's the hardest). Movies can never be too far removed from the culture in which they are made and the people who make them. Somewhere there is Truth in them, but whether you see it or not is up to you mostly. There are some movies which are solely for enjoyment and you should not always analyze movies to find the Truth lurking in there. Return to Me for example. I do not think that it is a deep movie with profound spiritual Truth about honesty, secrets, relationships, destiny and community. It's true that those things are addressed and covered, but mostly it's a cute movie. That's fine. Rain Man, however, is more than just a cute movie. And the fact that I see part of myself, a disgusting part of myself, in Charlie Babbitt hurts. A lot. We have a new coworker at my shop and she is painfully slow and nearly incompetent. I do not treat her well. If my behavior toward her were filmed and put on a big screen. I think I would also turn it off and send it back. Only in my story I'm not fairly certain the behavior will be redeemed (if the person is) ... and I won't be getting a golden statuette for it.

I haven't sent Rain Man back yet, so I may still finish it and be glad that I did. Maybe I should finish it so that I can see and be reminded of the redemption of my actions and attitude, maybe the pain is good for me to go through to help me remember to beware of my choices and avoid making poor ones, especially as I relate to people.

For all the fluff I say about loving people, I don't often do it well. It's the second most important commandment and it's so hard. We only have to do two things in this life, and both of them are incredibly difficult. But not impossible. If we have Faith.

What am I afraid of?

2010-03-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me this question in reference to relationships once.

I have frequently asked myself this question in the past.

Today I ask it about my music.

What am I afraid of?

I watched It Might Get Loud again. Still amazing. Even more amazing, watching how these guys revere and respect each other, truly interested in what the other is saying.

But it occurred to me at one point that I think if I were actually to know one of these guys, to spend a lot of time around them, we could probably have delightful conversation about lots of things and they probably enjoy and pursue a variety of passions. And yet, when I would get them on the subject of the electric guitar or music, their passion would nearly disgust me. It happens frequently with oboists. If you've ever heard two oboists discussing cane and shaper tips, then you may understand in part. Normally this sort of shop talk annoys me, partially because I think I can't keep up, maybe? But seeing these three great guitarists talking shop, since it's not my shop talk, I guess, I think it's incredible. And I sometimes catch myself thinking "I wish I knew all of that, I wish I could think that way" and to a certain extent, I can! And yet, when I'm around oboists who know the oboe-equivalent of electric-guitar-shop-talk, I walk away from them and think "I could never be like that. I don't want to be. I don't want to become what it takes to be that guy, that oboist, principal of that orchestra."

Why not?

I really could, if I wanted it. And there's a part of me that does want it, but not all of it. What don't I want? What am I afraid of?

I think I'm afraid of being weird. I know. Sad. Elementary school, even. But I'm still not convinced we ever change. I'm a little like Gregory House, M.D. in that way. It's like that Elizabeth & the Catapult song ... "we're all just taller children..." Some of us more taller than others. So I think I'm afraid of becoming the person that people walk away from shaking their heads and saying "wow. I don't ever want to be that way." Like if I really dig into the oboe, I'll lose my friends, I'll lose my respect - maybe even for myself. And maybe I will.

If I do, is it worth it?

But, then again, if I really dig into the oboe, I could just get what I'm trying for - a job playing music, and what I do with that job ... that's up to me. There are really mind-blowing musicians who are still approachable and relatable. Those are my favorite kind. Could I be one of those? I don't know that my friend would abandon me, I might draw them closer, because I can urge them on in their pursuits the way I've gone in mine. Maybe it's not about drawing people closer or pushing them away. If we each pursue our individual paths (assuming we have them) and we pursue them rightly, then if our paths are designed to line up, we will, and if not, we won't -- presumably.

But it takes effort. And I'm tired. Literally in this moment. And figuratively almost all of the time. But why am I tired? Maybe it's because I've been away from passion for so long, it's lost its excitement. Not really, but in my memory it has. I don't remember the effort being worth the result ... maybe it's just from a few bad experiences.

I don't know what all this means. I'm still working it out in my head, but I think an important question for me to be asking myself right now is:

What am I afraid of?

Success

2010-03-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

From today's sermon at Commonway.

Success.

Story.

Desire.

Success: To achieve a goal.

Story: A character who wants something and [must overcome] conflict to get it. Not all characters do overcome the conflict; they fail, I guess. Those are not good stories, though perhaps true. Success is to actually overcome, to obtain the object of desire.

What do I want?

What will it take for me to succeed?

What will be my success?

I want ___________________ and am willing to overcome conflict to get it.

I want music. But am I willing to overcome conflict to get it?

I want comfort. Am I willing to overcome conflict to get it? If I do, am I a success? Does it make a good story?

If other people see what I've done, and it's been true to what I want, but they laugh at me, will I still have succeeded? Will I still consider myself a success?

If no one sees what I've done, but I've been true to what I want, will I still have succeeded? Will I still consider myself a success?

If people see what I've done and celebrate me, but it hasn't been true to what I want, will I have succeeded? Will I consider myself a success?

I hope to say it doesn't matter what people say, if I know I've been true to what my heart wants, if I've pursued it, if I've overcome conflict, if I've obtained it, then I will consider myself a success.

But because of what it is that I want, if no one sees what I've done, I cannot have succeeded. They do not need to see it was me who did it, but they need to see it has been done. If they don't, I've failed greatly.

I want to live well & love much, to leave the world better than when I came and am willing to overcome conflict to get it.

I wish, anyway.

It Might Get Loud

2010-03-13T18:16:00.000-08:00

Davis Guggenheim produced a documentary/film called It Might Get Loud featuring Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin The Edge of U2 fame and Jack White of The White Stripes. These three bands are completely different. These three guitarists are completely different. But they have two very strong bonds -- the electric guitar and a love of music. Guggenheim basically talked to each of the three men individually and then set them all down together in a warehouse with their guitars and amps and filmed the ensuing conversation. I only had this movie going on in the background and it made for some nice background noise, but the deeper the movie went, the more I regretted not paying attention to it. I'm going to have to watch it on purpose all over again. To see these three unique music enthusiasts sharing their love candidly with one another -- it gives me hope for the world. Honestly. Watching their interaction and hearing their individual stories shows me again the importance of finding both what makes one's heart come alive (purpose) and finding people to share it with (community). We all have stories worth writing and stories worth hearing. What's yours?

What I want?

2010-03-07T15:03:00.000-08:00

I keep saying that I'm going to get more serious about this blogging thing. That desire has been renewed yet again. One reason, my friend Gloria has started a wicked awesome blog that is sleek, entertaining and informative. I'm a little jealous! And inspired. A second reason, my friend Carl says I should be a book critic. His mom said I should be a book and music critic. I love that family. They take good care of me. But it makes me think I should be more diligent and disciplined about the writing I already do. Maybe I can put up some of my book reviews on here, etc. etc. But I'm not going to promise to be more serious, because we all know that I tend to break that promise a lot. Just look back through the history of this blog. Although Lent has been better. I'll give myself that. I wish I could have a recorder that would just record all my thoughts straight from my brain when they happen and then I could sift through them later. Because even though I keep a pad of paper/post-its and a writing utensil with me everywhere, sometimes either because of focus (or lack there of) or convenience/ease of writing at the time (i.e. driving) many thoughts get lost in the abyss because there's a disconnect between my brain and my pen. But if there were such a device, as could record my thoughts from my head, it would probably be ... creepy and potentially very dangerous. Think of it! Or don't, because the machine would capture those thoughts and use them against you. Now there's a horror story for you along the lines of 1984 meets Clarissa Explains it All. You know, the episode where she and her best friend Sam have to write a story and Sam suggests a story about someone who gets in the car to drive and then the doors lock automatically and the seatbelt automatically starts tightening and strangles the person. No wonder I'm so dark. That was my childhood t.v.! I will also choose to blame that show on my belief in best friends with no sexual undertones or tension. Thank goodness When Harry Met Sally straightened me up on all that.

Since that lesson on Tuesday I have been asking myself this question:

What do I want?

And today that question again came to the forefront of my thoughts, this time because someone else asked me that question. Well, that someone else was my pastor and he asked it to the whole congregation, but it might as well have been to me individually. It was amazing to see that question on the projector screen in bold white font against a stark black background. (Is there such a thing as a non-stark black?) But there it was. A real question to contend with. What does my character want?

I go back and forth between wanting comfort and wanting Life with a capital ife. Because Life with a capital L is Jesus, and that I've got, praise the Lord.

But as I sat in my chair during communion (because Lent forbids me from the taking of the holy sacrament until Easter, as per my understanding), a thought occurred to me.

What is something/are some things that I never ever regret after having done them?

Aside from brushing my teeth, showering, going to the bathroom, etc.

When I take a nap, I feel guilty because I should have been being productive (i.e. practice, reeds, laundry, reading, writing, 'rithmetic.)

When I read, I feel guilty because I should have been practicing.

When I practice, I feel guilty because I should not be so angry.

And by guilty, I don't really mean guilty, I mean ... regretful, I guess.

BUT

When I meet with people for coffee and go on adventures with people, I never regret it. Ever. Even awkward times. Seriously. At least, I can't recall any times that I regret it. Why? Because people are important. People are the point of life on Earth. Really. Truly. People make everything else worthwhile.

And generally writing. I don't regret writing when I do it ... although it's not always what I'd like it to be.

And driving. I don't regret driving. But let's focus on people.

With that thought and a recent discovery, I've decided to apply for a job. Yup. We'll see how it goes. But it does not require a music resume. It requires a real resume. Be praying for me!

Merry-age

2010-03-05T13:28:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, I've already written at least three blog posts so far today. That's right. They're just in my head. In some secret place where they go immediately after I finish them. They get locked in and I have yet to figure out 1. where they are and 2. how to get them out. I should check out of those Marauder's maps from Harry Potter. That would be helpful.

A lot of people in my life are already married or about to get married. And this. Is. Awesome. Seriously. Not even a jaded single speaking sarcastically here. I absolutely love it. My pastor gave a really difficult sermon on Sunday and it did have to do with his marriage and I thought about all my beautiful friends who are married and how special they are and how special their marriage is to me. The relationships you have with other people affect each other. They really do. And I realized during Sunday's sermon that I don't need to be married, at least not right now, because all of my friend's marriages, they're like children to me. That sounds weird I realize. But what I mean is ... I don't know. I care deeply about my friends and their relationships with their spouses, or spouses to be. Especially the marriages that I was witness to their beginning (as in, I went to their wedding.) I frequently feel those lightweight burdens on my heart for my friends and their marriages specifically.

So know, my married friends, that I treasure your friendship and your marriage, your vows to each other. I take them seriously, especially the ones where I served as witness to the committing itself. So I am here for you, and I am on both your sides.

And my single friends, I pray for your spouses frequently. Your future relationships are dear to me and I am excited to see them unveiled.

But now that I have typed this out, I feel it's weird. I know it's not weird, or maybe it is, but in an endearing way. But whatever. I'm weird. No worries. I'm fully aware of this.

Time to go play some Verdi's Requiem. Intense.

What do I want?

2010-03-04T20:53:00.000-08:00

I am cold all the time.

I've had a bit of a rough time with music lately. I have had a string of bad auditions and frustrating musical experiences. Taken individually they're not s bad, but when combined, one on the heels of the next, they are borderline overwhelming.

As I've said before, my church has been doing a sermon series about story and I've also been reading Donald Miller's new book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years which talks also about story. So according to the book, a story is a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it.

Simple. Right?

So let's apply this to my life.

Character: me

Wants something: ???

Stop. See the problem? I'm not sure anymore what it is that I want. Conflict I seem to have plenty of, but what I'm overcoming said conflict for, I have no idea.

Is it music? Because I've been awfully frustrated with it lately. And not so much with it, itself, but with what it is asking of me. I'm not totally convinced that the payoff is worth the effort. So what else could I want? Starbucks? Nice, but maybe not the story I'm looking for. Money? Nice, but maybe not a good story. Comfort? Nice again, but again, not a good story.

So what do I want???

I have no idea.

Learning

2010-02-27T09:44:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in a new local coffee shop in my hometown’s downtown. I just overheard some kids talking about skiing and snowboarding and what their plans are for an upcoming trip, etc. etc. I heard one in particular say “learning to ski sucks.” He was pointing out the difference between actually skiing and learning to ski. One is fun, the other is painful. It got me thinking about learning in general. Now. I love to learn. I am a big fan of it. But. What thing is actually fun to learn? Not music. Music is maybe fun to learn about, but to actually learn to make music is a pain. It is frustrating and exhausting and it sounds horrible. Have you ever heard a kid just learning to play violin? It screeches to high heavens. My grandmother will say that’s the only thing she’s ever tried to discourage her grandchildren to do. Or the only time she’s ever been mean to her grandchildren, or something like that. Anyway. Listening to small people learning to play the violin brings out the worst in people. Learning to drive. All the whiplash from the stopping and the going and the heavy braking and … Learning to speak. Frustrating to the max. Maybe learning a language is fun. Help me with this list. What is fun for the actual learning process?

Do we like to learn? Really? Why? Why not? Is it a personal thing? Do some people like to learn, while others don’t? Do some people actually enjoying rolling down the hill over and over again? Do they like it on its own merits or is it because they like the idea of what it represents? What it will hopefully eventually produce? Rolling down the hill over and over again will eventually decrease to staying upright down the hill over and over again.

We endure pain and frustration for the end result. It has a purpose. We endure it more easily when we know what the purpose is, when we can see the end goal.

The Gamut of Emotions

2010-02-25T17:14:00.000-08:00

Isn't amazing how many different emotions and emotional states a person can go through in a very short amount of time? I went from happy to angry to relaxed to anxious to even more relaxed to happy to ready to sad. All today! Those last few were in the course of thirty minutes! No joke!

So first thing's first. I have another confession to make. I went to the store yesterday to get some soy milk and I was so consumed with getting delicious tasting soy milk that I got chocolate Silk light, not realizing that it was chocolate and therefore not part of my regimen. Woops! So now I have a half gallon of chocolate soy milk and I don't know what to do with it. Drink it anyway? Remembering my sinful nature *wink*? Only drink it on Sundays? That seems a waste of a perfectly good Sunday of break! But then again, is that the consequence of sin? No, because we've been redeemed! Ach! What to do? And it's only soy milk!

So I was really feeling good about writing and then I checked my email and got the response from my Louisville audition which was ... terrible. Nothing short of. And I wasn't just crazy, it was really bad. To the point that the email said the committee determined I was not "'qualified'". I kid you not. The "qualified" was in quotation marks. Oh dear. So many things. I'm not really that upset, except that I know it was not an accurate depiction of my playing. I know I actually AM qualified for a sub list, but ... man. I just didn't do it that day. Watching the olympics, I guess I realize that it happens to everyone. Thanks, sports, for making me feel somehow a little less bad. But I still want to cry a little bit just sitting in my parents living room.

But to end on a positive note ... what I WAS excited about. You know, from my first Lent post, that one of the things I want to be praying about is what to do in the fall, where to be, etc. And I keep getting the sense that Chicago is not where I need to be in the fall. As much as I love the city and want to be there so badly, now is not yet the time. I am getting the feeling that a time will come for me to live in Chicago. Maybe even next year, but for now, not. I'm still going to hope for good news from Civic, and if that works out, then Chicago here I come! But. If not, that's okay.

Now, I am thinking more and more seriously about Cleveland. I've said over and over that I do not want to move to Cleveland, but it does make the most sense. If moving to Cleveland gets me 1. out of the house 2. closer to the job 3. still making money, maybe even more since I can work during the week of the Erie gigs instead of taking the week off. I do have community there. I know they'd like for me to move there. It seems to make sense. I just don't care of the city. But for a little while, it could work. We'll just have to see what comes of auditions, etc.

But I feel a little bit of peace about it.

Also, I think I need to get a pet. Not a fish. Fish don't count. Wherever I move, I'd like to live by myself, but that means I'm going to need another warm body in the apartment. I'd really like to have a dog, but those are 1. more work and 2. more money. So I may be a cat person for a little while. Two things I don't particularly care for 1. cats and 2. Cleveland. So maybe I'll become a different person for a little while. That's okay.

Absence

2010-02-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

It doesn't take much for me to miss a place. I have a tendency to never be "here" wherever that is. This is a problem. Some old friends of mine are moving and it was very sudden, but it's to a place that will seem to suit them well. Another friend of mine and I were talking it over and we said that if we had to describe the moving friend in one word, it would "discontent." That has stuck with me since then, because even though I was at that moment applying it to someone else, I began to wonder if it could be applied to me. I wouldn't want it to be, and at first I thought "No! I'm happy just about anywhere!" But the more I've thought about it the more I think it could.

My parents threw a stinger at me when they told me, in jest - but it was true, that I want to move to wherever I've most recently been. I think I've mentioned that before. And it's true. Except with China.

But last night, I was driving home at about midnight after doing a little recording and I started thinking about a snowman holding his snow head in his stick arm/hand. I don't know why I was thinking about that. Then I tried to think of where that image came from and for what purpose. My thought process went something like this:

Did I see it on a woot shirt? Should I see it on a woot shirt? What could it mean? How could it apply? Have I seen it with another holiday figure? Like Halloween? Ichabod Crane and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow perhaps? Nightmare Before Christmas? Remember watching Nightmare Before Christmas in Graz with Christian's friends? That was a great time. I wonder how they're doing. Man. I really miss that. Things were almost easy then. Goofy internally but easy.

And that's how I came to miss Austria yesterday and today.

Then also today, I was on Facebook, of course. And was looking around at pictures of a kid I knew a long long long time ago. I mean. Really long ago. Not the longest, but pretty far back. And he had up pictures of Ireland. And that made me miss Ireland. And I wanted to go back to Ireland.

Then I was practicing and I was thinking about whether I actually am a good oboist or if my friends just think I am because we get along and that does influence how you hear someone. So I thought about taking lessons with other teachers, who don't know me (which I am about to do) and playing in places where I don't already have a reputation. And it made me think about Hungary and an oboist there who insisted he hear me play, but I never did play for him. And I thought about how I didn't invest in that relationship. And it actually made me miss Hungary a little bit and want to have a chance again to invest in those relationships that I missed out on last time.

All this to say. I am very rarely present. A few Lents ago, I had decided I would leave "absence" for "presence". Rob Bell at Mars Hill Bible Church had labeled that year's Lent season as a time for leaving Egypt for Jerusalem. So the challenge was to think of something you were leaving behind in pursuit of something better and more freeing. I think this leaving absence for presence is maybe going to be my lifelong challenge.

Lent brings Freedom

2010-02-23T21:27:00.000-08:00

I realized today, as I was eating my sun-dried tomato and basil hummus, that my world, at least dietary speaking, is going to be opened wide by the end of this Lent season. Sure, Lent is not actually all that related to your literal diet, but it got me thinking about the irony of Lent being a time to OPEN my world. Don't we normally think of Lent as limiting? We limit what we eat. We limit what we watch. We limit what we think about. We limit what we listen to. And yet, but putting those limits on my diet, I'm actually expanding my palate by force. But not really by force, because it's completely voluntary. I just really like that ironic twist to Lent -- you deny yourself to free yourself. We die to live. Jesus talks about this. Appropriate. Everything is related.

My iPod was on shuffle today, on the playlist of "Kid tested, Lenten approved" music. And Shostakovich Symphony No. 5, Third movement came on. It's a haunting piece. You should check it out. It's not automatically easily accessible, I realize. But it is haunting. That's the most appropriate word I can think of.

Your Love is Strong

2010-02-22T19:37:00.000-08:00

Just a short note before I go to bed.

I really like God and I'm really enjoying reading His Scriptures these last couple of days. My reading has me going through Leviticus right now and it's true, it's full of rules. But at the same time, the rules are a lot of the time common sense principles (i.e. don't sleep with your daughter) and guidelines for living in community (i.e. do not murder, do not twist justice to favor the poor or the rich). But they also say so much, I think, about the LORD and what He considers important. He really thinks of a lot of things. Like He knows there are going to be poor people. No matter what. Soooo, He makes provision for them. He instructs the farmers not to glean everything out of their fields. When they drop something, leave it. Don't go back and pick it up. Don't take every bunch of grapes from the vine. Leave some. The poor will come and take it. Don't be greedy. It's also different from a straight-up hand out, though. The poor still have to come along and do the work of searching the field for what has been left behind. See? So much he thinks of! Then there are the random ones like "don't trim the hair of your temples or your beards." I don't get that one. But it must be important.

Side note: homosexuality is thrown in there right alongside don't sleep with your daughter or granddaughter or stepmother ... as in ... it's true, it's not how we were designed to be, it's not wholeness and it is sin against yourself and the other person ... but it is NOT in bold letters. It is not in all caps. There are no hashmarks indicating a trending topic (re: twitter). It's there. Very clearly. But it's also very clear that it's the same as all the rest. Just don't do it. If you do, when you do screw up, the steps for reconciliation and atonement have all been laid out already.

God thinks of everything.

Jon Foreman's "Your Love is Strong" has been running through my head ever since we sang it in church yesterday. What gets me the most is a variation on the Lord's prayer which he launches into very passionately. It's a poignant moment of the song. You should check it out.

"Two things You told me

That You are strong

And You love me

Yes, You love me

Your Love is, Your Love is, Your Love is

Strong

Our God in Heaven hallowed by They name above all names

Your kingdom come Your will be done

On Earth as it is in Heaven

Give us today our daily bread

Forgive us weary sinners

Keep us far from our vices

And deliver us from these prisons ..."

Amen.

The first (little) Easter

2010-02-21T13:50:00.001-08:00

Today is the first Sunday in Lent and that means it's my first little Easter of the season. Let me tell you what, at first I scoffed at this idea of taking Sundays "off" or releasing myself from my strict fast on Sundays, as if it was a weakness. But after the joy I've experienced thus far today, I say "let's have more of this!" This is what Sundays, as Sabbaths, as days of rest are supposed to be like every week! No wonder the year of Jubilee is called such. I woke up this morning to the smell of beef & noodles (which I originally mistook for bacon ... if that tells you where my mind was.) It was a delicious awakening. On my way to church this morning to celebrate with my Brothers & Sisters. I stopped by the MT Cup. Thought I work at Starbucks, this does NOT make me a traitor. I have been going to MT Cup long before Starbucks was in Muncie and it has remained a significant local locale for me. In addition ... they have outstanding bagels!!! And I still prefer Starbucks' chai. So. There. I stopped by the MT Cup for a Sunrise bagel which is egg, cheese and bacon on a bagel of your choice. Accompanied by a chai latte made with whole milk, this breakfast encompassed every item I am forbidden from consuming during Lent. Talk about breaking a fast. Go big or go home.

Honestly, the bagel was not as tasty as I was anticipating, but the freedom of eating what I wanted made up for it. Completely.

This Lent has been very exciting AND enlightening. It has opened up several conversations as I talk with coworkers, customers and family members about what I've chosen to do and how my experience has been thus far. And it's only one week in! Although, I'm sure it will fade, but oh well.

Commonway again was a place of joy and belonging for me this morning. A reminder of why I'm still in Muncie. Church seems to be the continual blessing in any place where I am living. I have some cousins who are moving back to the midwest after living in Southern California for a few years. Part of their reason for moving home is the lack of community in California. While I don't doubt that, I also say "go to church!" If not for the celebration of Christ's life and death and the transformation of our lives in His, then for the community! I personally see no problem with (at least initially) going to church to find community. God has called us not to live alone. It's right that we should seek community within the source of all Community. True, finding an ideal church is actually impossible, but even finding a near-ideal church is difficult. But it's less difficult than trying to build community striking it out on your own. Especially if "your own" involves a spouse and a small child ... your options are suddenly limited - or focused, although your immediate community has expanded.

Thoroughly enjoying the NPR "All Songs Considered" podcast. How have I not heard of this before?!

Sometimes I Fail

2010-02-20T13:43:00.001-08:00

I have a confession to make.

I've broken my fast. A few times now.

But not from eating. That's still going strong. And let me tell you. Whole Foods Market and Trader Joe's are a Lenten faster's best friend! So many things are now made dairy-free, it's almost like cheating! Is it still fasting if I'm eating soy cookies? I don't know. It somehow feels unfair. And yet, in all honesty, I am still being very intentional, which is part of the process I think.

So how I cheated. Well. Obviously, I haven't been blogging every day. Also. I had an audition in Louisville last night and I listened to secular music. It's my "pump-me-up-for-my-audition" playlist. I tried to go without it, but I just couldn't handle having to sit in that warm-up rooming hearing the oboes all around me. It was a terrifying experience. I really don't care for the oboe too much, nor for most oboists. Why can't we all just be normal? I suppose they think they are normal. And maybe they are ... amongst other oboists.

I just wanted to come clean about that.

But it also proves a point to me. Clearly, food is not necessarily a good fasting item for me, because it's fairly easy for me to follow a new food regimen. But my time and my mind. Those are two really difficult places for me to fast. It's difficult for me to spend my time well. To invest it well and in lasting causes. I normally just end up choosing to watch a ridiculous Amanda Bynes movie, all the way through. Knowing and acknowledging that it is indeed one of the most worthless movies ever to be made and spent money on. And it makes it even worse because I chose, in full consciousness, to waste my time watching it. And my music, what I put into my head. That is clearly a very important part of how I operate, because for me to go without it is more often than not very difficult.

It also brings up the question, which I've been speaking of often with my friends actually, which is "what is the point of lent and fasting"? And I don't completely know. My friend Jessica and I discussed it a little bit last night while she was keeping me awake for my drive home from Louisville. Part of fasting is choosing something you really might fail at fasting from. It's not so much about works and proving that you can give something up, which sometimes we focus on and thereby miss the meaning of the process. You choose something you might fail with/about/on (I don't know the proper preposition) and you try anyway, and when/if you do fail, you try again. Because that's what we do in our everyday Christian faith as well. We don't just give up on faith because we sin. No! That's ridiculous! We wouldn't be Christians for longer than an hour after receiving Christ if it worked that way! And in that case, no one would be a Christian because it wouldn't make it out of the first generation! We fail every day. We sin. Part of lent is putting that propensity to fail front and center, but not become despondent about it. We also don't embrace it. But we then are forced to see the need for our Savior more obviously and we can then appreciate or value His Salvation all the more. That's part of it at least. Or that's where my conversation with Jessica and my small group conversation led me.

God left me a little sticky-note love note yesterday. It sounds cheesy, I know. Full awareness and I gag a little saying it, but it's what it felt like. It was in the following song:

Enter the Worship Circle - Nothing Can Stop You

I really like the oompah/boom-chicks.

Character vs. Plot

2010-02-18T18:33:00.000-08:00

My church is doing a sermon series on Story. Part of the influence is Donald Miller's new book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. And driving that book is the idea that if you're life doesn't make a good story, it doesn't make much of a life either. As in, if someone were making a movie of your life, or compacting your life into a novel, would it be interesting? Strange question, I guess. I sort of figure everyone's life would be interesting, or at least they think it would be, since it's their life, and they chose it and all. But maybe I'm wrong. I think mine would be interesting, mostly.

Anyway. Last week we talked about plot vs. character. Your life, your story, is not only about what you do and what happens to you. What makes a really good story is the character. And the idea that plot comes out of character. Character first, then plot. So the question this week via twitter was: "How could living with focus on the character instead of the plot relieve stress/pressure in your life?"

So if you're thinking about who you become instead of what happens, it takes focus off something you don't have control over and puts it on something in your hands. That's a little bit of a relief right? But maybe a little bit more pressure too, because it's something you can do something about. So you'd better do it right.

But I think it's less pressure. Or less unnecessary pressure at least.

Day 4 of Lent. No cheating that I know of. But today was a hard day. I really wanted cookies or chocolate. Haven't done all the reading I wanted to do though. The Book of Common Prayer is a little monotonous to me ... sorry. I hate to say it, but it's true.

Crazy day tomorrow. Time now for bed.

They Don't Love You Like I Love You

2010-02-16T19:23:00.000-08:00

I kept singing the song "Maps" by the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs in my head this morning while I was at Starbucks, generally when I was doing dishes. Dishes is a popular time for me to sing songs to myself. So today's was "Maps" and it was just the one line of chorus that I know. "Wait. They don't love you like I love you ..." And I'm sure that song is about people, but for a moment, I realized it's also about God. And it's Him saying precisely that to me. "WAIT!" He says "They don't love you like I love you!" He proclaims about the world, about my desire, even about the people I know and love and who are equally loved by Him. It makes me think of the Psalm that says "Be strong and courageous and WAIT on the Lord." And yesterday my friend Laura (again) and I were talking and she mentioned how she's in a period of waiting. Now. I'm not actually saying that I AM in a period of waiting, but it is an interesting theme. It's important in this life. To not hurry. To wait. Intentionally. Waiting. Not in despair, but anticipation. And Advent is about waiting. And so it Lent, I think. Waiting for the redemption of the world.

We talked about Lent and what we're doing for it/how we think about it/what our past experiences have been (among other things). And it ocurred to me that you can view Lent as a time of mourning for the world, 40 days of prayer, fasting and intercession on account of the world. One of my small group members, Benny, last year during Lent fasted for lunch every day. And since he's in college, he has a meal card with meal money that expires after certain hours if you don't use it. Then you've lost that money. So rather than wasting the money, Benny used it to buy canned goods and those sorts of items from the cafeteria food store. He stored them in his room and at the end of Lent, he donated them to a food bank. Isn't that awesome? Not only did he fast and spend that time in prayer and investing in his relationship with God, but at the end of it, other people obviously, immediately and physically benefited from that, via Benny's foodstuffs. Maybe Lent isn't always only about what you can give up, but also just what you can GIVE. Christmas isn't the only time of the year to give you know. Jesus gave His life on Good Friday. And we can remember that. We should remember that.

Loving a Person

2010-02-15T19:42:00.000-08:00

I've decided to take Lent seriously this year. And by seriously I mean, I am filled with joy and excitement about the season of Lent. I know. It's strange, right? Because Lent is the time when you give something that you really love in an act of penitence and contrition to remind us of how weak we are and how much we suck at life and how much we need Jesus and how He died for us because we can't even last 40 days without chocolate, coffee or Facebook. Right? True, Lent is maybe not in the running for gold medal of the holiday olympics. How can anyone hold a candle to Christmas? But it's about so much more than just giving up something convenient or generally delicious. I'm not exactly sure what that is, and I actually don't think that I will know at the end of this Lenten season, but I do anticipate some serious lessons being learned during this time of reflection and anticipation and remembrance and celebration this year. I can't explain it, I just know inside my spirit that I'm excited about this.

So here's a little of what my Lent plan is. Please don't read this as in a "look how awesome I am and all my plans for Lent this year. I'm such a good Christian, after Lent this year, I won't even NEED Easter." Not. True. But I know my heart so well, that I don't even feel like I need that disclaimer because I know how excited I am by all of this.

It is going to be a serious challenge in a lot of ways, but again, it seems fun to me. Note: I am one day in. I have already nearly failed several times, and probably have unwittingly failed.

The plan:

Traditional orthodox Great Lent fast.

No meat.

No dairy.

No eggs.

No fish.

No secular music.

No alcohol.

Do blog every day.

Do Scripture read every day.

Do pray.

Do read Book of Common Prayer every day.

Do read small group book every day.

Do read non-fiction every day.

Do read fiction every day.

Do celebrate Sabbaths/Sundays as "little Easters" aka. all rules rendered null. aka Party like it's 1999!

I also wanted to avoid: caffeine and extra sugar.

Read: No chocolate. No sugar added to my caffeine-free tea.

As I hate vegetables as a general rule, this fast is going to be incredibly difficult. I'm still undecided about the use of soy products as meat replacements and dairy replacements. I don't know if that counts as cheating. I'm going to try to do without them, but if I do start using soymilk and soyburgers, I don't think it's going to negate my entire experience.

Things I will be praying about especially during this time:

1. Direction and provision for this summer.

Some options:

Halo goes to Finland in August

Halo rehearses for Finland in June/July in Indiana

Halo rehearses somewhere else

Halo rehearses at a different time

Commonway sends a delegation to Kazakhstan in June/July

NRO festival in Breckinridge (if I am invited)

2. Direction and provision for the fall.

Some options:

Anything.

No.

Really.

Anything.

3. My friends.

Want me to pray for you? In general? About something specific? Let me have it! Because I'm committed to this. I've got you covered!

Things I have been thinking about.

1. My pride.

2. My tendency to open my mouth without thinking.

3. Am I called to wander or to settle? (Thanks Laura.)

4. The Pillar of Cloud/Fire that led the Israelites.

I've also decided to stop posting the lyrics for the songs that I attach to these posts. I've also decided to stop ALWAYS attaching a song to a post, unless I want to. I have felt in the past obligated to ... even though I'm only obligated to myself, but I have freed myself from it. Most will probably still have musical associations because that's how my brain and heart work together, but not all of them.

Today's does, though. And this song is related to the "Thing I have been thinking about. 1. My pride." I was listening to Donald Miller read Blue Like Jazz and he was talking about really liking people. And how people won't listen to you if you don't actually like them. They can tell when you're pretending. And I feel recently that I have been doing that. Like what I have to say or the way I live if more important or better than the way they do and they should change. And I'm going to pretend to like them and pretend I want them to change for their own good. So then this song came on my iTunes today and it seemed incredibly appropriate.

Sara Groves: Loving a Person

Yellow

2010-01-31T17:34:00.000-08:00

How does what you do affect who you are, your identity? And what's the difference between what you are and who you are? Is there one?

I intended to write this post about how I'm not a classical musician. I mean, yes, I play the oboe and I have been classically trained, but I am just really not a classical musician. You know how I know this? I hate to practice. Hate it. I have enjoyed it a few times this past week, and that's a miracle in and of itself, but really, last night and tonight, and most times when I practice, an anger and frustration wells up within me that is almost demonic. It's terrifying. I actually don't like classical music that much. Not so much as I like Music, anyway. I like classical music because it's music, not because it's classical. And I just plain ol' like music. Does that mean that I'm a musician, then? Not really, because I do like to create music, but I'd be just as happy sitting around listening to music all the time and reading a book or writing or what have you.

So what does that make me? Or who does that make me? And what in the world am I supposed to do with all of this?

I'm having a bit of trouble in my personal life right now, even though I've been remarkably motivated as of late, there are some consequences of previous laziness that I'm having to deal with. It came to a small sort of head on Saturday morning when I just wanted to run away until everything sorted itself out. Then over the Starbucks muzak, I heard a great cover of Coldplay's "Yellow." And it calmed me right down. I think the cover was by Jem, maybe?

And I was reminded of it again tonight when I got home from that frustrating practice session, I paused for a moment in my car and looked up at the stars that I could see. So two things I know:

1. I'm not a classical musician.

2. I love stars; they are my special calming agents.

Yellow

Coldplay/Jem

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along

I wrote a song for you

And everything you do

Yeah, it was called yellow

So then I took my turn

Oh what a thing to've done

And it was all yellow

Your skin

Oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful

You know, you know I love you

You know I love you so

I swam across

I jumped across for you

Oh what a thing to do

'Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line

I drew a line for you

Oh what a thing to do

And it was all yellow

Your skin,

Oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful

You know, for you I'd bleed myself dry

For you I'd bleed myself dry

It's true

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine ...

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And all the things that you do

Routine

2010-01-30T21:10:00.000-08:00

Just a couple thoughts.

1. Am I trying to be God's "teacher's pet"? Is that how my mind views justification by works so that it seems less wrong and more acceptable and accessible? Just wondering. I listened to a sermon from my church in Boston and the pastor talked about being teacher's pet and something about that phrase struck me and stuck with me. And that question came to my mind. Am I trying to be God's "teacher's pet"?

2. I almost started reading an article about privacy steps on Facebook. It was something about Google and Facebook and the information Google is logging about your Facebook, blahdy blah. Like I said, I almost started reading it. I read a little abstract and got really sucked into that and just as I was about to click the link to the full article, I stopped. I thought "do I really care that much?" And yes, I agree that internet safety and discretion is incredibly important. But I think I started to click the article because I somehow thought it was a very important matter of great delicacy and urgency, because the abstract was written that way ... like those teasers on evening news: "The most common cause of death ... and it's in your refrigerator!" You know? And then you wait and wait and wait to find out in what form death is lurking in your refrigerator so you can show it to the door, only to learn it's something about mold ... I know Facebook is public. It's on the internet. I know this blog is public. It's on the internet. I'm just saying, if you don't want the whole world to know about something about you ... don't put it on the internet. I have nothing to hide on my Facebook page. At least, I don't think I do. So go ahead Google, file away. I'd be honored if you thought my information was important enough to be logged and stored, but I don't necessarily think it is.

Routine

Arthur Guiterman

No matter what we are and who,

Some duties everyone must do:

A Poet puts aside his wreath

To wash his face and brush his teeth

And even Earls

Must comb their curls,

And even Kings

Have underthings.

Morning Person

2010-01-28T12:14:00.000-08:00

I bought a book of poetry recently, inspired by a poem my pastor read during church a couple weeks back. I always intend to read poetry and memorize it and become one of those deeply artistic people. But honestly, poetry rarely speaks to me when I seek it like that. Normally the surface level poems appeal to me most, but that's fine. So I've been going through this book of poetry and a few poems have struck me. So I'm going to share one today. Enjoy!

Morning Person

Vassar Miller

God, best at making in the morning, tossed

stars and planets, singing and dancing, rolled

Saturn's rings spinning and humming, twirled the earth

so hard it coughed and spat the moon up, brilliant

bubble floating around it for good, stretched holy

hands till birds in nervous sparks flew forth from

them and beasts--lizards, big and little, apes,

lions, elephants, dogs and cats cavorting,

tumbling over themselves, dizzy with joy when

God made us in the morning too, both man

and woman, leaving Adam no time for

sleep so nimbly was Eve bouncing out of

his side till as night came everything and

everybody, growing tired, declined, sat

down in one soft descended Hallelujah.

Winter Song

2010-01-25T20:01:00.000-08:00

Winter is my favorite season. I wrote that in my novel from November, but I think I really do believe it. Each of the seasons have their own particular delight, but winter is my favorite, I think.

Spring has the most hope; Summer the most joy. Fall has the most depth, but winter. Winter has the most magic.

The only thing I DON'T like about winter is being cold. BUT I do like to become warm, so I suppose I even like the cold part of winter. I think winter can experience the widest range of emotions. It's true, it can be depressing and lonely and melancholic when the sky is grey and you feel you'll never see the sun again. But then again, those mornings when you wake up and the world has been completely transformed through the night by a gentle blanket of snow ... glistening in sunlight ... where can you find a more profound joy? I mean seriously. Winter is the only season where the world can be completely transformed over night. You can go to bed in one world ... gray and bitter. And while you sleep, Jack Frost comes for a visit and when you wake up, everything is white and redeemed. Literally over night everything has changed. This doesn't happen in spring. Spring is a very slow and gradual change. There comes a time when you suddenly realize that the whole of the world has awakened, but it's been a slow awakening, so slow you don't notice it until it's finished, or nearly so.

I also love winter clothes. I love scarves and sweaters; jeans and corduroys. All my favorite clothing is winter clothing. And then the fires! And hot chocolate! The act of warming up when it is so very cold outside. A good fire sparks good conversation. Haha, I didn't really mean that pun. And what about that feeling inside when you wrap your hands around a warm mug of tea or hot chocolate? I have learned to like tea, but I don't know if it's for the tea so much as the warming of it and I can't quite bring myself to drink straight hot water, yet ... nor do I care to try. Tea is close enough for me. And blankets! I almost forgot blankets! I love blankets. I love to wrap myself up in them. I love to feel their weight on me. So cozy and snuggly.

It's true, winter has harshest of winds and you can get to a point of being so cold you don't think you'll ever be warm again. And yet, you always do warm up again ... unless it's the nineteenth-century and you succumbed to scarlet fever or something dramatic like that. But even that bitter cold wind that can whip around the corners and take your breath away, also has a voice ... an identity, malicious or just mischievous, who's to say?

So here's a song for winter, by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. So good.

It also makes me think of two very dear friends: Anna and Jess. Who are so close to my heart and to each other's. Their friendship has encouraged me in so many ways so many times, and not only my friendship with each of them, but their friendship with each other. They are so beautiful. Even more beautiful than the winter.

Winter Song

sara bareilles & ingrid michaelson

this is my winter song to you

the storm is coming soon

it rolls in from the sea

my voice a beacon in the night

my words will be a light

to carry you to me

is love alive?

is love

they say that things just cannot grow

beneath the winter snow

or so i have been told

they say we're buried far

just like a distant star

i simply cannot hold

is love alive?

this is my winter song

december never seemed so wrong

'cause you're not where you belong

inside my arms

i still believe in summer days

the seasons always change

and life will find a way

i'll be your harvester of light

and send it out tonight

so we can start again

is love alive?

is love

this is my winter song

december never seemed so wrong

'cause you're not where you belong

inside my arms

this is my winter song to you

the storm is coming soon

it rolls in from the sea

my love a beacon in the night

my words will be a light

to carry you to me

is love alive?

Maybe Tonight

2010-01-17T17:39:00.000-08:00

I might have a problem. I'm afraid I try to make people what I want them to be, instead of letting them be who they are or who they want to be. I was just looking through some pictures of friends on Facebook (of course) and it made me think that maybe they're afraid to be who they really are around me. And maybe I don't let them be who they are, because I want them to be something else. That's not very nice of me, now, is it? I don't do it on purpose. Maybe it comes out of pride. Because I value my image of them more than themselves. I hope I can pay more attention to this in my interactions with people. And hopefully that attention will cause whatever I'm doing to make them feel that way decrease. I judge too much, maybe. Yes, yes I do.

On a happier, but stranger, note. It's been feeling a lot more like Christmas to me lately. More so than it did leading up to Christmas. Way more so than it did on Christmas since we were in China, and Christmas there ... maybe they celebrate it, but it seemed like they really just decorated for it and then skipped over the celebration part. Then again, the orchestra spent all Christmas day traveling and playing a concert. We did have a party though. Probably the first Christmas I ever 1. peed in a hole (shortly after midnight, as part of a 6+-hour bus ride to Beijing) and 2. experienced salsa dancing. I wish I could say I actually salsa danced, but I didn't. Just wanted the rest of the orchestra. But still. First Christmas party I've ever been to where there was salsa dancing. Thanks Spain!

So I've been listening to Relevant Magazine's "The Drop" this evening. It's this great streaming service from their website. They choose an album every few weeks and stream the entire thing on their website for free. It's pretty great. Since I've been feeling pretty Christmas-y lately, I thought it apropos that one of the artists I found on this said website was Carl-Eric Tangen, whose album is reflecting on Advent and Christmas. So tonight's lyrics are from one of his songs. The picture is from Graz one night that Christian and I went walking. It was a delightful evening, if difficult.

Schlossberg in Graz on a winter night.

Maybe Tonight

Fair thee well
This cold, cold heart is down by one
Seafaring man
Such as my father said that you would come
Maybe tonight, maybe tonight

Angelic flight
Are you hovering o'er me tonight?
Cause I see the fog
Caused by my breath in the beam of a broken light
Sometime maybe tonight
Sometime maybe tonight

See the star
Shining brighter than anything before
Men from afar
And from the hills come running to sing along
Sometime maybe tonight
Sometime maybe tonight

You are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are the thing that reminds that I'm alive

And you are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are the thing that reminds me I'm alive
And you are the road that I travel down at night
Still you are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are the thing that reminds me I'm alive
Maybe tonight, maybe tonight

Only at Christmas Time

2010-01-15T11:32:00.000-08:00

I just want to share a quick story from my time in Graz. This is my favorite moment of the trip, I think.

I had mentioned in a previous post that Christian, Julie, Michael and I had returned from a Christmas movie marathon and decided to sing Christmas carols in four-part harmony. We happened to learn "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" fairly well and that became a staple of the rest of our trip.

The day after we spent that evening singing together, we walked to Christian's church after rehearsals. Our path took us through a little park in Graz (it's actually quite large) and while walking we decided to renew our singing. So here we were, four Americans walking through a park in Graz, covered with snow, singing "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" in four-part harmony. It was so fun. But the best part was that at one point a man who was out jogging happened upon us. He then slowed down and walked along with us while we sang. He began to hum along. Then our paths split and we went right while he went left. As he began his jogging again he thanked us and told us it was beautiful.

That moment really made me smile big smiles in my heart. I hope I always remember it. That's part of the reason I just wrote it down.

Houyue has been posting some videos on Facebook from the China trip and many have been posting their pictures from the trip. It's been great seeing everything and everyone again, even if it is only in 2D pictorial representations. Now that I'm a few days removed, I remember the trip fondly. Not the bathrooms, but the trip. And although I don't particularly care to ever return to China, I still have to smile and laugh when I think about all that went on. But my heart still aches for my friends. Luckily I get to see Michael and Angie tonight in Muncie!

Today's song was one that we heard at the Christmas party with Christian's ÖSM friends. We got to the party late, but just in time to hear Karin and Phil singing Sufjan Stevens Christmas songs which they had spent an hour singing in town earlier that day. I had never heard this one before and it has since stuck with me strongly. I really am so blessed and this world really is full of the most interesting people. I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know all the ones I have had the privilege of meeting.

Time for some coffee with my friend Katie G. now!

Only at Christmas Time
Sufjan Stevens

Only to bring you peace

Only at Christmas time
Only the king of kings
Only what once was mine
It takes the end of time
It takes a long long time
Only one thought of mine
Only at Christmas time

He brings us peace
He brings us joy
He brings all thoughts to destroy
Only at Christmas time

To brings us peace
To brings us joy
To brings all thoughts to destroy
Only at Christmas time

Only at Christmas time
Only a tree to climb
Only at Christmas time
If you can read the sign
Only at Christmas time
Everything lost will find
Only at Christmas time
Only at Christmas time

I Feel It All

2010-01-12T16:23:00.000-08:00

Here's a question, well, a series of questions, probably.

Why do we miss people?

Not like "shoot, I just missed you" but the heartwrenching unidentifiable, but unmistakable pain resulting in someone leaving your life ... sometimes even while they're still standing right next to you?

And how do we miss people?

I want to know about the psychology behind missing someone AND the biology involved. What is the cause of this. What IS that feeling of "missing"? Is it a neural synapse? Is it a thought? Is it some sort of spasm? What causes it? And why?

Also. Why do we miss some people more than others? Why can I spend 7 days nonstop with person A and then spend 7 days nonstop with person B and at the end of the 7 days, I say goodbye to person A, and we have had quite a delightful time full of good conversation and honesty, but parting is no trouble. Whereas with person B, I could have equally good conversation, or no conversation at all, or only talk about ... farting or childhood and yet when the time has come to say "goodbye," I feel like I'd rather just go to sleep forever and never wake up again. What causes that? Why do some people we form a deep attachment, even if circumstances are completely equal, and some others we have an affection for, but not attachment?

I don't normally try to find the answers to these questions or think about them too much because, like right now, I tend to really go a little insane because I think and think and think and come to no answer or conclusion whatsoever.

Anyway. Does anyone know? Does anyone else ask?

I Feel It All

Feist

I feel it all I feel it all
I feel it all I feel it all
The wings are wide the wings are wide
Wild card inside wild card inside

Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one to hold the gun

I know more than I knew before
I know more than I knew before
I didn't rest I didn't stop
Did we fight or did we talk

Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one to hold the gun

I love you more
I love you more
I don't know what I knew before
But now I know I wanna win the war

No one likes to take a test
Sometimes you know more is less
Put your weight against the door
Kick drum on the basement floor
Stranded in a fog of words
Loved him like a winter bird
On my head the water pours
Gulf stream through the open door
Fly away
Fly away to what you want to make

I feel it all, I feel it all
I feel it all I feel it all
The wings are wide, the wings are wide
Wild card inside, wild card inside

Oh I'll be the one to break my heart
I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll end it thought you started it

The truth lies
The truth lied
And lies divide
Lies divide

Alphabutt

2010-01-10T20:50:00.000-08:00

I am finally home. In Muncie. In my bed. My real bed. Where just down the hall is my bathroom. My bathroom with a porcelain toilet, a shower curtain, a tub, soap, and no windows. I kid you not, I am so relieved to be back in the land of acceptable bathrooms. (Yup, I know that pun's there.) This is the thing I am most excited about. Yes. It's great to be back with my family, and my car and my church and my friends and my work. But mostly (and please don't be offended) it's great to be back to private all-encompassing bathrooms. The bathrooms in China. Sub-par, except on occasion. Mostly, they're squat toilets. Read: hole in the floor. They smell. They don't have toilet paper. They don't have soap. They're terribly uncomfortable. Even in the nice hotels where they do have actual porcelain commodes, the bathrooms will also have some sort of awkward window so that if the light is on in the bathroom, the person in the bedroom can see into the bathroom and if the light is on in the bedroom, the person in the bathroom can see into the bedroom. It's really weird. I thought I had more to say, but I don't. I'm just glad to be back to American bathrooms. So here are a couple of pictures. Don't worry, they're not obscene. No one's IN the bathroom.

The symbol on the door indicates whether it has a seat toilet or only a squat toilet.

Ahem.
It's not a toilet or bathroom related, but it IS the Emerald City made out of ice. And it is cool.

In honor of the subject matter of this post. An ode to childhood by Kimya Dawson.

Alphabutt
Kimya Dawson

A is for apple
B is for butt
C is for catbutt
D is for doo doo
E is for elephant doo doo
F is for fart
G is for gorilla fart
H is for huge gorilla fart
I is for eyeball
J is for jammies
K is for kid fart
L is for loud and long farts
M is for monkey butt
N is for saying nite nite to neko at nap time
O is for Oh!
P is for panda peeing and pooping in her potty while papa plays peek a boo
Q is for quebert
R is for robotic monkey who's going to take over the world
S is for stinky
T is for turd
U is for uh oh
V is for flying V
W is for wee wee
X exactomundo
Y is for yuckie and yummy and you
and Z is for farts that smell like the zoo

The Scientist

2010-01-08T01:09:00.000-08:00

Any of you who know me probably also know that I do not do "good-byes" notoriously well. Well, I haven't even said goodbye in Austria, yet (I have about three hours to go) and I am already not doing well. Blame it on lack of sleep, lack of nutrition, complete emotional exhaustion or just a really tender heart. Whatever it may be, I have already cried at least once this morning thinking about having to leave and am beginning to again, as I write this. This trip has been absolutely indescribable, really. And I am really ready to go home. I am ready for normal showers (not with windows in the bathroom or showers in the kitchen), I am ready for my bed (not plywood or a couch), I am ready to return to Starbucks and my regulars (not sleeping any time I have no rehearsal or concert to play), I am ready to drive my car (not ride 4-8 hours in a bus, plane or train), I am ready to go to small group and ready to see my parents and ready to go back to church (not just listen to their sermons while sitting next to teenagers making out on the plane).
But I am not ready to leave. I am not ready to leave quaint little Europe, it's architecture, it's lighting and it's history. I am not ready to leave new friends with potential depth of friendship, or at least really great music making. I am not ready to leave really high quality food. I am not ready to leave life on my own. Most of all, I am not ready to leave my good friend Christian. He has been a constant encouragement to me since I met him 5 years ago in England. We have had some of the most amazing conversations full of honesty and depth and vulnerability and truth. Which we tend to follow with a ridiculous question about the merits of farting. Truly.
It's time for me to begin transitioning back into "the real world," but it's times like this that truly make me long for Heaven, because I do not like to be parted from my friends for long, especially not really good, true friends. The kind who stick closer than a brother.
I would like to encourage you, today, or sometime, to call up a friend, or write them a letter (I really like letter writing ... they can also then keep it to refer back to later) and remind them that you love them and what impact they have made on your life. We all need to be reminded every now and again.

But I must say, after re-reading this, it sounds like he died. But he hasn't. So I do have the hope of hanging out with him again relatively soon, like, this summer when he comes back to the States for his sister's wedding or when I hopefully go to Finland again for Halo. *phew* Smile's back on my face.

I don't know what song can sum up my feelings best, but I'll go with Natasha Bedingfield's rendition of "The Scientist." Also here's a photo of Christian and Michael taken by Christian's neighbor from a pre-Christmas party in Austria.

The Scientist
(original by Coldplay; cover by Natasha Bedingfield)

Come up to meet you
Tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets
Ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads only science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start

(Take me back to the start)

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
Oh, oh tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Oh running in circles
Chasing our tails
Oh coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
I'm going back to the start

(I'm going back to you, yeah
Oh, oh yeah
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back to you
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back to the place where I first loved you ...)

Better

2010-01-05T18:05:00.000-08:00

Just made it back to civilization, I mean. Graz. Everyone is fine. All luggage is accounted for. And now it's time for bed. But we did have a lovely walk to Christian's apartment. It was long because we were tired, but it was beautiful because it's snowing again. Not like angry China snow that eats away at your bones down to the marrow ... but gentle Graz snow, welcoming us back and making things look new and clean. Thanks, Graz. I like you too. Another update will come tomorrow since I am allowed to update a blog in this country. No bitterness, though. Yes!

Song: Better
Artist: Regina Spektor.

I keep singing it when I wake up from any number of naps I've taken in the last few days of travel by bus and plane.

2010-01-01T10:31:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone! I'm sorry for taking so long to update, it turns out that my blog is blocked in China. I don't think it's anything personal against me, just all blogging is blocked in China. Wow! Right? So, many thanks to Sarah T. for putting this blog up for me. Bassoonists are the best kinds of friends! It makes me feel a little bit like Paul, actually, you know? When he thanks whoever for notating his letters to the churches, etc. It's great!

Anyway. This trip. Wow. I don't even really know how to describe it. At this point we're over halfway through. It's New Year's Eve and I have to get ready to play a concert tonight. It has not been the most musically edifying trip, except that I'm playing principal and everyone generally seems to like my solos, at least my friends (new and old) and the conductor do. I haven't heard so much from the people who most likely hate me for other reasons. So that's been good. And it's definitely growing me in stability, consistency and strength as a player. I've been pushing the limit on my embouchure endurance, but I think I've passed the really difficult stages now and can make it through a whole concert relatively in shape. It's a great excuse to not practice during the day ... hehe.

The trip hasn't done much for my relationship with China. I still don't care for it much and I'd probably be fine if I never came back here. It's dirty. My hands turn black just from being outside. Either because of soot and smog or frostbite. Currently we're in northern China and it's at least 27 degrees below 0. Aack! I have never been this cold in my life, but actually, I seem to have prepared pretty well for it and between my coat, my long johns and my hat and gloves I'm doing pretty well. Then again, I wasn't on a bus for two to three hours without heat like some of my colleagues were.

Personally, this trip has been very ... I don't even know how to describe it. There have been some really difficult moments for me individually, dealing with loneliness (which is normally a result of exhaustion), but from that standpoint, the Lord has been very good to me in building endurance of body and spirit. There are four Americans on this trip and we are also the only four Christians on this trip. This is no coincidence, I think. And it's been so good that all four of us are on this trip. Julie, my roommate, is spectacular. She's one of the most good-hearted, gentle people I've ever met. Michael is great to have to lighten tension, to make you laugh and to just be a general encouragement. He's also good friends now with some of the most difficult people on the trip, so that's definitely valuable. Christian is now one of my oldest friend and so good. He's challenged me a lot in my character and faith, and we generally just work well together building each other up and sharpening each other. This trip has been in general, though, a real test of integrity and character. We've had some very difficult situations arise which have caused serious tension within the orchestra. Like I just referenced, some of them had to ride a bus for a few hours without heat in very sub zero temperatures. Nothing was done about it. This is absolutely unacceptable and our conductor graciously gave them the option of not playing the concert that night, which they chose. I completely stand by them from that respect, but the challenge came in whether or not we could still do a good concert without their presence AND that it would be almost blessing the neglect of the organization by playing a concert in spite of the conditions. Those of us who could play opted to play a shortened, chamber orchestra version of our normal program. It was not our worst concert, which was good. As an idealist, general pacifist, Christian and American, I believe that you play no matter what the circumstances. This entire trip has been full of situations like that and unfortunately the same people who were stuck in the cold bus are also the ones who have been very vocal about the terror that has been this trip.

Today we are in Daqing which is near Russia and Siberia. Tomorrow we go to Harbin and have our first full day off since the beginning of the trip. We're going to see the ice castle/ice festival. When I can, I'll have Sarah post some pictures from that. For now I have just a couple pictures from our morning on the Great Wall, if Sarah can figure out how to put them on. That was VERY cool. It seems that "small town" China (which is still bigger than Chicago) appeals to me more, but still, I am not what you would call "enamored" with the country.

No song lyrics today. I guess Ingrid Michaleson's "Are we There Yet?" is becoming even more poignant now, though. So enjoy the pictures.

Er ist ein Ros entsprungen

2009-12-19T23:34:00.000-08:00

What a marvelous time it is here in Graz.

We had our first two full orchestra rehearsals yesterday and I had the joy of experiencing the truth that music really is the universal language. *insert eye roll* We've calculated that htere are no fewer than 16 countries represented and over half do not speak German as their first language (myself included), but the rehearsals are run in German. Nonetheless, we've been able to make sense of the music and the musical instructions. I think it's going to be a success. It will, however, be exhausting. We will spend 16 days in China, in 7 cities, including one in Mongolia and will do 12 or 13 concerts with rehearsals before every performance.

After the two rehearsals yesterday, my brain was absolutely fried. I took one year of German my last year in college and I'm racking my brain trying to pick out words I understand and piecing them together. So far it's been okay. I've only needed help a few times and either Christian or Petra, the second flutist, has been able to help me. But by the end of it all, even though the rehearsals were good and my solos were appreciated, I was so tired. So so tired.

We were able to unwind with some of Christian's friends as they were doing a Christmas movie marathon all day today. We joined them during our lunch break between rehearsals and had the most delicious meal and then we met up with them again after our rehearsals to watch Home Alone 2 and The Nightmare Before Christmas. It was so nice to turn my brain off a little -- especially because the movies were in English. Christian's friends, I hate to say, have been the most pleasant surprise. All of them are so talented and gifted and friendly. They are funny and welcoming and ... have fun, really. It has been a real delight to spend time with them. And we've had a party every night we've been here. It doesn't allow for much rest, but it does make for lots of memories.

When we returned to the apartment, leaving the marathon a few movies early, the four of us staying here in Christian's room (Christian, Michael, Julie and me) sang some Christmas carols in four-part harmony. It was definitely outside of my comfort zone, but it was delightful because I know that non of them will judge me. They love me truly, and so I can make a fool of myself missing my leaps of a third on the lowly alto part, which I so enjoy. We're going to "perform" Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" at our Christmas dinner tonight with Christian's friends.

In honor of that, I leave you with a photo from yesterday, compliments of Michael's amazing photography and the first verse (in German) of "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen."

Prost! (Cheers!)

Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen, aus einer Wurzel zart,
Wie uns die Alten sungen, von Jesse kam die Art,
Und hat ein Blumlein bracht mitten
im kalten Winter Wohl zu der halben Nacht.

Fix You

2009-12-18T06:49:00.001-08:00

Here I am in Graz. In the kitchen. On Michael's computer, because mine has decided not to recognize the internet here. Fail. Graz, however, is a success. Yes!

The trip here was long, but went by quickly. The theme for the trip was "second try's a charm." Beautiful Jessica took me to the airport after a delightful stay with the Wilders. She took me to the terminal that was written on the ticket, but that, it turns out, was in fact not the terminal from which my flight was departing. So I lugged all my crap down through O'Hare and found the right terminal. Still ended up being about 45 minutes early for my flight. So I grabbed some Starbucks and watched the special airport news channel all about new airplanes coming out, the President's daily speech and a little Asian kid playing Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours" on his ukulele and making up the words. His pitch is incredibly good. Look it up on YouTube.

Got to London fine. It was a smooth ride, full of movies -- Julie and Julia and Bolt and very little sleeping. I sat by a very large man, but it seems his heart was as big as his body. So that was okay.

When I got to London, I gathered my luggage at the Gatwick airport, got a bus to Heathrow and got off the bus at Terminal 5, which according to the woman at the desk, was the correct terminal. According to the airport, however, I needed Terminal 3. So I took a shuttle to Terminal 3 and of course went in at the opposite end of where my check-in desk was. By the time I arrived at the check-in, I was informed that I had to wait until 2 hours before my flight to check my bag. No problem. I sat down, read a book, almost fell asleep and THEN checked my bag before changing my money and continuing through security. No problems, except that my gate was still not assigned. So I sat in a big communal area and watched people, making up stories for them. I grabbed some Starbucks pasta salad and an iced chai. After first being forgotten about completely, I finally got my chai and was sorely disappointed by both the salad and the chai. The chai was made incorrectly and tasted terrible. It's a pretty difficult drink to mess up, but they did. The pasta salad was not delicious, but I figure it was also because I seem to have stopped eating recently. That's a different ball of wax.

Finally got on my flight, had a pleasant flight to Vienna ... not full, plenty of space, and fitfully slept. Probably making a fool of myself. Once in Vienna and having gathered my bags, I stumbled around trying to interpret signs and German to figure out how to get the train to Graz. I found some English speakers and they helped me out quite a bit. Except when it came down to it, they send me on the right train ... the wrong direction. Oops! I figured it out after a few stops and had to make up the time, except of course, I had nothing to do with that. So I rode it out, thinking I had an 8:30 train that would arrive in Graz at 10:30. The truth was, I was supposed to have an 8:00 train that arrived in Graz at 10:30. I missed it. So I had to take the 9:00 train and I thought I would arrive at 11:00, but in truth, I arrived at 11:30. I was a little concerned, but it turned out fine. Then we took a bus to Christian's place and here we are!

We had a party with Christian's roommate, neighbors and two of their friends and that was delightful. Sebastian is Christian's roommate, Oliver and Anna are his neighbors and Steffi and Lucas are their friends from Oliver's hometown in Austria. I also met Daniel, one of Christian's friends from church who came to visit, and arrived while I was napping. A little embarrassing, but I think this trip will be full of those, so I better knock my pride down from the beginning.

I think my German is better than I allow myself to think. I have been able to understand a little, but when I say "a little" I really mean a very little. Still, I consider it a feat. I'm pretty sure I'll learn and understand something if I just keep listening.

The food has been great. The fellowship has been wonderful. Julie just arrived and she and Michael are on their way out to a strings-only rehearsal (it's good to be an oboist). And I'm going to cut some vegetables to have ready for dinner tonight. More Strudel tonight followed by another Christmas party with a Christian fellowship with Phil and his roommate. Huzzah!

One of the most poignant moments for me thus far has been waiting for the bus to take me to Heathrow when Coldplay came up on my iPod. To hear Coldplay in the city where they're from was a good moment from me. It wasn't live, but it was something.

So in honor of that, today's song is the song I heard on my iPod.

Fix You

Coldplay

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I...

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

The Chain

2009-12-03T11:19:00.000-08:00

I've been listening to Ingrid Michaelson almost exclusively in recent days. I just seem to be in that mode, that mindset of bittersweet honesty. Plus her voice is incredible. The next few posts you see will probably reflect this.

I finished my novel on Monday. 50,055 words in a complete novel in 29 days. Officially declared a winner by NaNoWriMo.org. Score! It was difficult. Not the most difficult thing I've ever done, but pretty intense. I learned some things from it I'm sure. But the first thing that comes to mind is

1. Writing a novel is difficult, but not impossible, even for a normal person like me.

2. When writers say their characters take on a life of their own, they're telling the truth. It really happened to me. I wouldn't know what I was going to type or what they were going to do, but then my fingers would start going and they would do and say things. It was marvelous and scary. And most of what came out was horrible, but as this is my first novel, I'm not that concerned about it. My friend Maggie pointed that out and it made me laugh. I said "It's complete crap." and she said "Well, it's your first novel." Like "Of course, it's just practice, you can't be good at everything the first time through." and implying that there will be other novels. I appreciated the reminder and encouragement.

That being said, I have started to think about other novels I want to right. One is a collection of modern-day Aesop's fables with one character consistent through all of them. Things like what to do once one has encountered the "blue screen of death" in computers or things like that. Mostly silly.

I also really want to write that novel about my family. I think it would be incredible.

So, I again open the invitation for anyone to join me on these ventures. Whether it's during actual Novel Writing month or outside of it.

And now with that being said, I received an email this morning from one of the official NaNoWriMo people about what to do from here and he emphasized the importance of continuing to write every day, as exercise, like practice as an athlete or musicians. You must continue to use your "writing muscles" if you want them to develop. So for the umpteenth time I'm going to promise to write in this blog more frequently, and I will probably fail at that again, but I will have good intentions.

So for today's installment of "Wibbles practices writing" I will tell the story of my Chicago audition a week ago.

The Grant Park Symphony Orchestra in Chicago, IL held auditions for principal oboe in Chicago on November 25th. The finals were on the 25th and the preliminaries, which they called semi-finals to make you feel better about the progress you had achieved by simply being granted an audition and showing up to it, were also on the 25th and the 24th if necessary. They were necessary. This means a lot of oboists auditioned for this one position. I had prepared for the audition fairly well, practicing almost consistently and always thoughtfully. I had a lesson with Betty Camus of the Cleveland Orchestra who gave me very good things to think about and tried to prepare me for the reality of auditioning -- this particular position has been open for the past several consecutive summers; that means this orchestra is not in the convenient habit of hiring the person who wins this audition ... expectations should be set low for the auditioner. Regardless, I decided I might actually have a chance to win the audition. After all, I was "qualified" ... my being granted an audition determined that, since "only qualified applicants need[ed] apply." Already that says something, right? About me? I'm qualified. Then I had good feedback from people who give good feedback only when warranted. I was feeling good. But as I started getting closer to the audition, I decided to lower my expectations a little more, so as not to disappoint myself too very much. I thought I'd settle for advancing to the finals, because that indeed seemed a reasonable goal. I went to Chicago early, because I have friends that I was staying with there, I like the city and it's the smart oboe thing to do ... so your reeds settle and adjust to the new climate, and if necessary you can make new ones. Let's get something straight: I don't make reeds ... I'm terrible at it (but that's not totally relevant). I practiced a few times while there. I hung out with my friends. I went to masterclasses of people I don't know and missed the portion with the person I did know. I did a trial audition for the people I was staying with because they're amazing musicians AND they love Jesus. Plus they are really good at Life. All of them. It's amazing. They've definitely been given more than their quota of awesome-at-life-ness. So I played for them and learned some important things ... I would NOT be playing the blue reed, and I had a problem starting my phrases. I'm fine once I get into them, it was just getting them started that was particularly problematic. Mrs. Awesome-at-Life helped me with this a little bit, coming up with some non-oboe theories which worked remarkably well for the oboe. Or for me, at least. But after I played for them, I lowered my expectations again, to not advancing, but merely playing as honestly and truly to myself as I could (which is probably actually raising my expectations, even though it feels like a compromise to the human musician in me). Then they prayed for me and I went to bed. I laid there for a little while, thinking about my scarf in the other room. That conversation with myself went a little something like this.

"My scarf is in the other room, where son-of-Mrs.-Awesome-at-Life is sleeping. That means I can't get it in the morning and I really want to wear it to my audition. Son is still awake right now, I could go get it. But if I did that, I would have to get out of bed. That is both cold, inconvenient and awkward, as I'm in a sleeping bag which makes a lot of noise when you move, and it is not easy to get out of. Maybe I can just sneakily get it in the morning when I leave. No, that would be rude and awkward, especially if Son were to wake up. It would all be over. I should get it now, it would only take a second and then I'd be on my way to sound sleep, which I need since I have to get up so early. No. I'll just leave it. I won't need it. I'll be fine, really. Okay."

Then somewhere after that I fell asleep finally. And I slept VERY soundly. My alarm went off and I only snoozed once, I think, before getting up nearly-obscenely early to shower and prepare for the audition. Everything there went fine. I returned to my bed to discover a text message from my coworker telling me she was praying for me and wishing me good luck. That was the beginning of God using every tool in his arsenal to tell me He loved me. I'm not even going to tell you all of what He did. But suffice it to say ... it was awesome. Definitely the best part of the day. Mrs. Awesome-at-Life took me to the train station with some hot tea in hand and there I waited ... a little longer than I was planning, because apparently I misread the train schedule. Then I got sad. Then I said "I left myself plenty of time and I can't do anything about it anymore." And I relaxed and listened to my iPod, going over one of my most beautiful excerpts to prepare and enjoying my hot tea.

Okay, this has gotten too long. I'll just bullet point the rest of the experience. (Today's lesson in writing: don't spend too long in establishing the setting.)

-- I got to the train station and almost walked the wrong direction, but because the crossing signs worked better to walk a different direction, I went that way -- totally God's providence and hand of direction -- literal direction.

-- I got a text message from my coworker again saying that they would still love me even if I got scared and threw up in my oboe. I laughed out loud.

-- When I got to the park, I didn't see a soul except a Hispanic groundskeeper who clearly didn't speak much English. I didn't know which door to go in and didn't want to dig in my bag for the paper, so I asked her. The conversation went like this:

me: "Hello. Do you work here?"

Hispanic Groundskeeper: "Yes."

[sweep, sweep]

me: "Do you know if there are auditions here today?"

HGk: "Yes."

me: "Which door do I need to go in for the auditions?"

HGk: "Yes."

*sigh*

me: "Ow-dish-eons. Today?"

HGk: "Now?"

me: "Yes! *point to building* which door? *make motions like opening a door*"

HGk: "This door unlocked probably."

[Leads me to a door. The door's locked.]

HGk: "I let you in."

[Takes key ... still on lanyard around her neck ... unlocks door and lets me in.]

Elated me: "Thank you so much! Have a good day!"

-- Then an almost angry tech guy gets mad at me for using the wrong door, but points to me where I need to go.

-- I check in and am assigned number 31. I look at the list of people for the day. I have heard of a handful, but not most. The day begins with number 24. That means there were 23 people who auditioned the previous day. I notice my friend Lindsay is supposed to audition as well. I figure it's over for me. That's fine, I've already re-established my expectations. Honesty. Honesty. Quality. Then I say to God. "Just don't let me be fine or mediocre. Make me extraordinary. Whether extraordinarily bad or extraordinarily good, just let it be extraordinary." He laughs.

-- I enter the group warm-up room. It's very quiet, except a few girls talking who already know each other.

-- I get some of my stuff out, but I can't decide how I want to do it. I get more texts messages from friends encouraging me. I tweet constantly because I'm bored and nervous. I've given up listening to my playlist of excerpts and opt for the playlist of songs I like and that make me happy "Go Time" it's called on my iPod. I start smiling and almost laughing out loud. Definitely bopping my head.

-- I look around at the room and see the other very oboey oboists and decide I don't want to be anything like them. I want to be me.

--I realize my identity is not in any way based or even associated with this audition and its results. Neither is my love of music. I am relaxed and ready.

-- I go to the audition private warm-up room. Everything sounds pretty good. I go to the pre-audition private warm-up room. Standby, I guess, where I learn the final audition list. I am sad. I have to play Brahms Violin Concerto. Of course.

-- I audition. It's fine. But I literally chuckle out loud when I walk into the very nice bandroom. In the middle of the giant room is a box of velvet curtains. I am not behind a screen, the panel is. They have boxed themselves in, in the middle of the room, by black velvet curtains all the way around. It's very funny looking. I laugh and relax. The audition is fine. Very honest to my playing. I am pleased. Although it was neither extraordinarily bad nor good ... that's a little disappointing, but the truth is I'd rather be honest and fine than extraordinarily bad -- because I can be proud of that in a good way, I don't have to settle for joking about how bad it was and "learning the hard way."

-- No one in my hour of auditions advances. Not surprised, but a little disappointed, I head back.

-- I have a marvelous experience in Starbucks on Madison Ave.

-- A homeless man gives me directions to the proper train station (because I tried to go into Union Station which is clearly unoperational as the woman on the recording keeps saying something that doesn't make any sense over and over again like "track 6. track 6. track 6.) he wants me to give him money. I only have a $5 and he's not going to get it. I instead give him the Cranberry Bliss Bar that I had gotten to celebrate my audition.

-- I find I have to wait 50 minutes for the next train back to where I'm going, so I get a mediocre bagel and enjoy my Italo Calvino book while watching people in the train station. One woman is either very angry or has terrets as she walks around cursing under her breath.

-- I get on the train. Have a marvelous ride back to my stop. Mrs. Awesome-at-Life picks me up and takes me back to the house. I prepare to stay for a few more hours waiting for Son to get home so I can say goodbye.

-- Son comes home a few hours early, because he decides to skip class ... since his teacher basically told him to ... Son comes in about ten minutes after Mrs. Awesome and I return.

-- I pack up and go home. Well pleased.

The best joke I got from God: I was walking to my private warm-up room and on my "Go Time" playlist comes the Queen song "Under Pressure." Never a more perfect time. Yes!

Sorry this is too long! But I enjoyed writing it!

The Chain

Ingrid Michaelson

The sky looks pissed

The wind talks back

My bones are shifting in my skin

And you, my love, are gone

My room seems wrong

The bed won't fit

I cannot seem to operate

And you, my love, are gone

So glide away on soapy heels

And promise not to promise anymore

And if you come around again

Then I will take, then I will take

The chain from off the door

I'll never say

"I'll never love"

But I don't say a lot of things

And you, my love, are gone

So glide away on soapy heels

And promise not to promise anymore

And if you come around again

Then I will take the chain from off the door

[begin really amazing section of round/looped recording with building instrumentation]