Neglect

I feel bad that I haven't updated this blog in so long. Most of my writing as of late has been poured into lyrics for new songs. Also, I've been a bit busy recording a full-length album with my band Plan for Landing and writing and recording an EP of solo material as well as playing bass in another band and playing music at church.

Maybe I'll get around to writing some more entries soon. Until then, feel free to check out my band web pages (which will have lots of new songs uploaded in the near future).

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[lyrics from the latest song I've written]

hold it inside just to get through this night
hold it inside don’t give up, you don’t have to fight now
no, not now

just keep it together, this composure feels like murder
bottled, held back
but I wonder what I’m keeping in

just give me a sign and I’ll follow you home
past the city lights and all I’ve known
just give me a sign and I’ll head back home
leave these city lights and then we’ll know

it’s simply too much
this beauty, but it’s fallen down
it’s broken now

And I’ll hold them inside all the pieces of broken lives
that I’ve seen

just give me a sign and I’ll follow you home
past the city lights and all I’ve known
just give me a sign and I’ll head back home
leave these city lights and then we’ll know
yeah, then we'll know

Clothed in white

This morning, as the clouds draped the tops of the mountains in a soft and ethereal white, I drove up into the foothills on a wet road through the rain and mist. I went up that road wearing a hideous monster, and I came down wearing something quite different.

Then one of the elders asked me, “These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?”
I answered, “Sir, you know.”
And he said, “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore,
‘they are before the throne of God
and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.
Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat upon them, nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd;
he will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’

Holding it together

I’ve reasoned the emotion out of it and can just speak plainly and unaffected. I can state my feelings as responses on a psychological level and talk about them objectively. I can watch you cry and stare off into space with indifference.

At least, that’s what you see. Inside, I’m barely holding it together, ripped apart by every word we’re having to say and decimated by every tear that rolls down your face. I’m so disturbed and distraught by the fact that I really tried this time for something real and failed that all I can do...is hold it in. The only way I can seem to express this chaos is through utter composure.

Too much

More and more I’m starting to feel that this world is simply too much for me. From injustice to beauty, duty to rebellion, hearing the perfect song, unrealized potential, what I have, what I’ve lost, what I’ll never have — all these things assail me with an unreckonable force. I am an autistic child standing in the drum line of a marching band. It’s too much. I see the things most people choose to ignore and I feel what most people choose to bury. And I have to. Because callousness to those things is more horrific to me than the pain they bring could ever be.

Singular

After so many years of being single, I'm starting to think that going home alone feels more right than it should. Do I like it? Well, that's a different story. But I'm starting to wonder if I can ever see it being any other way. Part of me is happy about this. Part of me is not. I almost don’t remember what life looks like any way but alone, yet I find no comfort in speculating "well, what if it stayed that way?" Though reading novels about zombies until I fall asleep in my recliner and waking up at 4am to stagger to bed does have its own charm...its own bachelor kitsch, I don’t think it will be enough — in the long run.

I tell you what

If one more student comes up to tell me that they are not happy with the grade they got on an essay because they "worked so hard on it," I may end up in prison for verbally assaulting a minor (is that punishable by law?).

Where the hell did these kids learn that if you "do your best" then you should be given whatever it is that you want? I guess I'll take it on as my métier at DU to teach the hard life lesson that "doing your best" is quite often not at all good enough.

Maybe I'll start putting two grades on every paper - one that says for effort: A++ and another of actual grade: C-
Then I can have a fine print disclaimer that reads "for effort grade represents no correlation to reality and, more importantly, counts for absolutely nothing in your final average for the course."

Yeah, that's what I'll do.