Nostalgic about music

"People who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children." --Calvin, from Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes

I rarely, if ever, get nostalgic about my childhood (for many reasons). But for some reason, I do when I start listening to a few pieces I wrote 5-10 years ago on Finale. I had very little idea how to write for specific instruments (my trumpet parts were almost always way too high to be playable, let alone sustainable), and I had a very loose grasp on form--or to say, none at all, really. But over the last year or so I've been trying to figure out how to resurrect some of the melodic ideas or sequences I came up with from those earlier days. Man, those were brilliant. I wish I could come up with more stuff like that.

My year off... in the US

Lately I've been stumbling upon and reading blogs from several college classmates lately, continuing to find even more somewhat organized inscriptions about their lives in some other part of the world. Isn't that what blogs are for, anyway? All these people are sharing experiences and reactions to said experiences to those not near them (presumably back "home" in the US), and more importantly, posting pictures to back up the crazy things they talk about. I'm somehow not in that category. It's kind of funny, I'm enjoying (more or less) what I'm doing right now. The problem is there's not much to say, at least not of the caliber that I've read and seen (i.e. wordage and pics).

I kind of wonder how I could shape the changing identity of this blog, I suppose. I've (finally) decreased how often I've posted--perhaps I've guilted myself into doing so--but the goal is to find something to do with this now that I'm out on my own (especially since I was a freshman in college when I started web-logging). Much of the clutter that's occupied my head since childhood either gets vented out and explained to my friends, or has been sorted out through other self-discoveries (some of which have been explained here). Also I've generally felt the best about my life since... well, I can't really remember, maybe ever. [OK, so my spiritual journey has stagnated, but I've trusted that God will take care of me anyway. It's less of an issue than before.]

So there's less to blog about. During my junior year of college (that's September 2006-May 2007 to refresh your memory) I devoted a chunk of my time to analyzing aspects of Christianity and rock songs that might have a remote tie to it. But those posts came at a time when I was still easily swayed and preoccupied with specific opinions on all sorts of topics. Now, I've taken more of a laissez-faire approach, knowing that what's between God and me is really all that matters. Anything outside of it is essentially indifferent when it comes to my own faith, so I just try to take it with a grain of salt (disclaimer: I'm far from perfect, so it doesn't mean that always happens).

Also, I don't go on crazy expeditions (like to the Sahara) or treat everything like a reunion when I go somewhere. [Side note: I don't believe in "goodbye," even though there are several people that I won't see in at least a few years. "Goodbye" only makes sense to me when we both (or all) know it's final, like someone's dying. Otherwise, it's "see ya later," because I actually expect to see you again at some point.] Therefore, I have a hard time making a big deal of something like Homecoming Weekend at Olaf last month. Yes, I got to see several people I hadn't seen in a while, and while it was fun, I didn't take a lot of pictures and post everything I took. (Just to assure anyone who thinks I'm ranting against this kind of blogging, it's not a bad thing to do; it's just not my style.)

I suppose I could do something with music on here. I know I've talked about creating a music site, and I really should. Or, at least start seriously browsing music videos and other stuff and post links to anything I find. That would be a start. *cough* Pandora ["http://pandora.com/"] *cough

Anyway, I stuck the picture up above in an attempt at satire. Since I'm living in the US for my year off, I needed to show something I see every day. [Side story: a friend and I drove to a gas station in Red Wing on Friday night of Homecoming Weekend to pick up another friend who had biked there in an attempt to go the 80-mile distance from Stillwater to Northfield. While we were there, the friend that I drove with to Red Wing took a picture of the gas price at the station at the time. I think it was $3.08, or something extremely close to it, and this friend wanted a picture because it was the lowest we'd seen in a while, and it might not get that low again. Oops.] The pic I took was from last Friday, when I went to fill up on the way home from school.

Edit: I'm planning to delay grad school another year. Part of it is I need another year of "real-world" experience. The other part is I don't feel ready for grad school, not at least until I have a real job, and I know exactly what I'm going to pursue once I get my masters in Music Theory. I've really been enjoying my life this year thus far, more than before, and I wouldn't mind hanging with the same group of friends (many of whom happen to be in the same boat as me) for another year. Also, last week I checked out the GRE test prep book, and delaying grad school would give me plenty of time to study on my own, relatively pressure-free, and do the best I can in order to prepare myself for that next step.

Progress in Motion

Working title: "Institution of Heartbreak"

Loud wailing, sighing and groaning

A cloud of utter despair

Repeated excuses about curses and ghosts

Looking for reasons to blame

It could have been the year, it should have been the year

But fate had to get in the way

The sun rises in the east and it sets in the west

The air fills with hope each spring and dies in the fall

It's an institution of heartbreak and undying loyalty

Only for those who understand what it means to bleed

Loud cheering, screaming and whistling

A ray of abundant hope

Repeated glimpses of potential success

Looking for reasons to believe

There's always next year, oh sweet next year

Nothing can get in the way

The sun rises in the east and it sets in the west

The air fills with hope each spring and dies in the fall

It's an institution of heartbreak and undying loyalty

Only for those who understand what it means to bleed

There's a lesson in humility that others seem to miss

Because they'd rather blame a goat, a cat, or a man

And those who enjoy watching them suffer a century of pain

Must remember the meek will inherit the earth

The sun rises in the east and it sets in the west

The air fills with hope each spring and dies in the fall

It's an institution of heartbreak and undying loyalty

Only for those who understand what it means to bleed

Out the cannon, to Cannon Falls

So yeah, I should probably post an update or something. Ya know, with my new job having started and all, plus I don't have anything really irritating or elating to write about, it kind of decreases my posting frequency, which I kind of expected. I have been trying to prep myself by gradually decreasing said frequency by month since May, so neither one of us would be shocked if I somehow ended up posting so infrequently that once a week becomes the high-end of frequentness (yes, frequentness, because I don't want to sound redundant).

I'm working at the elementary school in Cannon Falls (15 miles east of Northfield) as a teacher assistant/mentor of sorts for all the kindergarten classes. I'm basically gonna be the guy I wish I had when I was in kindergarten. So while I'm helping the younger versions of me I will be certain to gain much personal insight from this position, even with all the speed bumps that sure will come my way pretty quickly and often.

I should probably be careful about what I post on here relating to what goes on in school, partly because it's where I work, but also just the whole confidentiality thing with kids, parents, and other school staff members. As whatever goes on in the Cannon Falls Elementary School will at least occasionally be the biggest thing on my mind from time to time, you may see even fewer posts from me over the coming weeks and months. Other things, like the contest of the Blues vs. the Reds (in both baseball and in politics), might come up in this space. Again though, they are rather trivial (as means of human entertainment and/or pain) for me, and therefore I don't plan on writing about them as often as I fear I might. We'll see how that goes.

Let's see, what else: I've been attempting to write another pop/rock-style song, I turned down yet another offer to join a get-rich-quick scheme, and I have been watching my budget so to cover rent, gas, food, and a little ROAD TRIP! Yeah, I'm excited on that last one. I've been wanting to do one so bad for the last 10 years, but said excitement will be tempered by the fact that we've set a strict budget and won't get to do everything that we had originally wanted to do.

I'm in the real world now. And to be honest, I don't think it's weird that I am where I am, mostly because I'm not thinking about it.

The Song of Simeon

I'm almost done with the Nunc Dimittis, at least in terms of sketching out the music. But I promised I would write a blurb on Simeon, the old man who approaches Jesus when he's a few days (weeks?) old and praises this occurrence... mostly so he can die in peace. Boy, I tell ya, that baby musta been something. ...kidding, really. In all seriousness, though, the complete faith that he had demonstrates a true rarity. I mean, he'd waited his whole life for the so-called "salvation child" to arrive... except to Simeon it wasn't "so-called"; it was the real thing.

It's kind of funny, like Simeon I sometimes do feel old. Maybe not like pre-baby-boomers generation old, but I've seen enough in my life that I have that sense of what "the good old days" (for my generation, anyway) were like, as well as a slight feeling of yearning for them. I'm not going to lie; there are a few things (OK, maybe a lot of things) that I would like to do over again. Much of it had to do with the whole inner growth (which I'm still developing), and how this process stacks up against times when I wish I could have taken opportunities, etc. There's that "when we were" tingling in my head sometimes, and there are times when I wish I could go back and either change them or enjoy them. I don't run and skip steps while going downstairs like I used to all the time during middle and high school. My body still feels young, which is a good thing, but my brain feels older, in some spots anyway.

I do wonder why Mary's song lasts nine verses while Simeon's lasts only three. They're both pretty important sets of texts, but it poses an interesting challenge to create two pieces of different lengths (or distribution of texts) while creating a similar overarching affect throughout the whole cycle. At least with sacred verses I don't have to work so hard to please the audience like I do with just about everything else.

The Song of Mary

Now this is what being filled with the Spirit is all about. I mean, why else would a pregnant woman explain her utter excitement (which has to be there first) about said pregnancy in such a poetic language? Then again, it isn't every day a complete virgin randomly (or not-so-randomly) conceives a baby.

I'm finally writing a Magnificat (the Nunc Dimittis will follow once I have finished the first) for the first time in about five years. Over the previous years I probably wrote about ten of these sacred song pairs, but for some reason I completely stopped. But now I'm back, and it's kind of amazing to try and get a new angle on the words to express them as it seems fit.

Growing up Episcopalian (and currently "still" wandering somewhere liturgically left of it) I only barely got a sniff of the significance of singing these evening services. After all, it's just a young woman and an old guy speaking some words that somehow gets set to music. But it's clearly more than that. The Roman Catholic Church does revere many of the human figures involved in pioneering and revolutionizing Christendom in its early days after Christ's time on earth was done. I mean, you've got the apostles and all sorts of saints, but Mary ends up being such an influential figure largely because she was called to be Jesus' mother. I don't want to say anything rash, because clearly my church experiences didn't stress her as such a figure as other places might, but I do wonder how such a big deal can be made over everything she does.

I am curious as to how and why the words of her excitement (from Luke 1:46-55) are repeated for every evening prayer. I understand the significance (she's spreading the news that she is pregnant with Jesus), but how does it stack against, say, the actual birth, Jesus' teachings, and other such acts during his time and all time. I mean, there's a reason other choral composers (esp. in the Anglican church) take this text and set it to music, because that's what I'm doing right now, and I'd like to understand even more why I am doing the same as these other guys who've put their names into the history books for the very same reasons.

I guess I'll muse (vent? ponder?) about the old guy (Simeon) some other time. ;-)

So now I'm supposed to gush

Over the last two years I wrote a salutary post to the previous graduating classes, sort of officially acknowledging and congratulating them as a whole on their achievements. In these cases I'd make some kind of mention about being glad to having known them and being friends with them, as such. So I should do now what I've been doing, and start with the list of names, and say some goodbyes as well.

There's something amiss, though, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Some of these people I will probably never see again (not an uncommon theme), but at the same time there are several that I expect to see very soon. It's weird, because I know I can't say when I'll next return to Northfield, and consequently when I'll see these various persons that I'm sure I will see.

When I left my church 4-5 years ago, I wasn't sure how I'd keep in touch with many of those friends ever again. But one thing these last several years has taught me is that in spite of changes in each of our lives as well as the distances that separate us, we still keep in touch decently well. So much for those worries. When I lost a high number of graduated friends from a year ago I was set with the same kind of worry. In spite of having mixed results based on the success of keeping in contact with them, I realized that I've done much better than I could have expected. There is of course the occasional expectation for me to do better than I've done, but at least right now I have hope that I will be in semi-regular contact with several of the friends I've made over the four-year period I happened to be a college student.

So without further ado, cheers to '08ers Aurora, Will, Brett, Taylor, Jonathan, Derek, David, John, Scott, Matt, Molly, Hannah, Eric, Alissa, Carol, Adam, Brandon, Kyle, Colin, Maranda, Joel, Tracy, Ben, Christine, Jamie, Levi, Nolan, Nathan, Pat, Anna, Kimmy, Max, Chris, Sean, Sarah, Marcie, Christine, Adam, Lauren, Christoph, Daniel, Millie, Casey, Kaitlin, Nick, Dylan, Chris, Peter, Keith, Andy, Nowlan, Lindsey, Trevor, Paul, Brendan, Wei, Jeremy, Brock, Lindsey, Carrie, David, Laura, Tyler, Brittany, Tyler, Paul, Katie, Clara, Peter, Brianna, Keshia, Katie Beth, Neil, Jenna, Eric, George, Sarah, Kate, Paul, Antonia, Tom, Kathleen, Kris, Jana, Steve, Kelin, Noelle, Keeley, Ben, Megan, Rob, James, Sarah, AJ, Kevin, Tyler, Christy, David, Kevin, Carl, Ariel, Nicole, Joe, Alec, Tom, Whit, Norm, Laurax, Paul, David, Noelle, Alycia, Catie, Katherine, Courtney, Abraham, Amanda, Marie, Kirsten, Nicole, Mackenzie, Kenny, Rob, Darin, Matt, Chris, Jose, Claire, Nick, Carl, Bob, Tara, Laurel, Liana, Lucas, Mark, Anuwat, Adam, Emily, Spurg, Beth, Ann, Liz, Jess, Tom, Alan, Hannah, Greg, Jonathan, Ethan, Alex, Sam, Molly, Mike, Emma, Cam, Luke, Will, John, Stephanie, Jonathan, Laura, Pete, Cindy, Eric, Mikael, and Sarah. I'm so glad to have graduated with you all. I couldn't have found a better group of people to spend four years with (OK, so the class of 2007 would make a strong counterargument, but that's beside the point). So many memories that will always be there, but moreover, with some of you, many more yet to be made. And that's what I'm hoping for.

__________________________________________________

Post-script: For dinner tonight my dad, grandpa and I went to Hogan Brothers for what just might be my last time for quite a while. But it was after dinner that got my attention the most. I'd gotten some ice cream (see reason in first sentence), and when I returned there was a family of three---dad and two daughters---that positively entertained the three of us in all sorts of ways. The father was very intelligent and regaled us with stories about geology and the early moon missions. The kids kept peppering grandpa and me questions about ice cream. We were all able to go back between the two media of conversation, and it kind of showed me a potentially open window of what I will be more likely to encounter now that I'm done living in a bubble (and yes, this term is specifically used with Lindsey Meyers' speech in mind). Maybe being off the bubble will do me much good. At least that's the hope.

Philosophy from the catapult

I still have one final left, but essentially the hardest work is now done. I wrote (revised) my last music history paper last night and turned it in. I don't know if it was my best work, but at the same time it was like a last gasp of anything related to college academics.

I almost wonder what this blog might have been like had I started it sooner, like while I was still in high school. I know for a fact that they were in existence in 2002, so theoretically I could have started writing when I was in high school. It would be interesting to compare my writing now with then, and compare reactions just to see if they were normal. Back in those days, everyone made it seem like the transition from HS to college was a big deal (quite a few movies occur during this time in people's lives), but for me it didn't seem like much. After all, I'd gone to an out-of-state school before, so it was nothing new. But now, even if it were such a big deal, it's a distant memory now. It's weird. I'm on the other end of the college telescope, and somehow this transition tends to be more ignored.

On with the percussion final. I still have to find out if I'm taking the written exam or turning in a composition.

A study in conducting

It's amazing what one might learn--or want to learn--simply by looking at videotape of himself. I spent some time doing just that last night as I was preparing for my conducting final this morning. In between taking notes related to my growth as a conductor, it was kind of cool just getting comfortable watching myself on video. Now, to be honest, I've never had any trouble having pictures taken of me, but I had been wary of seeing myself in moving pictures, so to speak. There would be always little things I would notice--and not enjoy noticing in the process--and as a result I would hate the fact that I did those little things.

But one burgeoning (is that the word I want to use here?) question that I found was, what more can I learn from this guy? After all, I'd been watching him on the podium for three semesters (although one of them was two years ago in Beginning Conducting), I saw him transform from some über-self-conscious post-teenager to a more self-assured... adult? Ah, yeah, adult. Now I know that's the word I want to use. Conducting confidence aside (a recent development), I was focusing on how the guy in the video interacted with the others in the classroom, and I discovered I liked what I saw (another very recent development). I could put the same little things aside and live with them, and just enjoy watching what he'd become.

Over Interim my freshman year at Olaf I was overrun by a plethora of amazing people through the FCA group. It was probably the first time in my life that I was so thoroughly embraced like that, and it was at that point I knew I was sick of living like that "post-teenager" (with all the adjectives I described). It still took a while (including additional help) but I'm much closer. There are still kinks to work out. But at least I can watch myself conduct now.

Revolutions

You say you want a revolution

Well, you know

We all want to change the world

You tell me that it's evolution

Well, you know

We all want to change the world

But when you talk about destruction

Don't you know that you can count me out

Don't you know it's gonna be all right

all right, all right

You say you got a real solution

Well, you know

We'd all love to see the plan

You ask me for a contribution

Well, you know

We're doing what we can

But when you want money

for people with minds that hate

All I can tell is brother you have to wait

Don't you know it's gonna be all right

all right, all right

Ah

ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...

You say you'll change the constitution

Well, you know

We all want to change your head

You tell me it's the institution

Well, you know

You better free you mind instead

But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao

You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow

Don't you know it's gonna be all right

all right, all right

all right, all right, all right

all right, all right, all right

"Revolution" by The Beatles

This world of shifting sand

Which Jesus do you follow?

Which Jesus do you serve?

If Ephesians says to imitate Christ

Then why do you look so much like the world?

Cause my Jesus bled and died

He spent His time with thieves and liars

He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant

So which one do you want to be?

Blessed are the poor in spirit

Or do we pray to be blessed with the wealth of this land

Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness

Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand

Cause my Jesus bled and died for my sins

He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars

He loved the poor and accosted the rich

So which one do you want to be?

Who is this that you follow

This picture of the American dream

If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side or fall down and worship at His holy feet

Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion

Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins

But the Word says He was battered and scarred

Or did you miss that part

Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him

Cause my Jesus bled and died

He spent His time with thieves and the least of these

He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable

So which one do you want to be?

Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church

The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet

But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud

I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd

And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud

I want to be like my Jesus!

I want to be like my Jesus!

Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus

You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity

I want to be like my Jesus but I'm not sure what that means to be like You Jesus

Cause You said to live like You, love like You but then You died for me

Can I be like You Jesus?

I want to be like my Jesus

--"My Jesus" by Todd Agnew

Re: last night's worship service at Emmaus

I had a conversation with a good friend I hadn't talked to in a while.

I saw words on a screen and heard pop/rock music extolling God.

I saw hands in the air, feet dancing, and heard voices rising.

Insanely enough, I had a wide smile on my face by the end of the night. So that's what God's joy is like.

It's possible that I disagree with the political, social and religious opinions of a number of people in the room, and it's possible that I'm still uncomfortable worshipping in the same way that the others do, but there's no denying that what they did was right for them. And I was able to appreciate it on my own while participating in this worship in my own way.

Of course, it was also the first time in a LOONNG time that I've had communion twice in the same day.  :-)

Senior predictions

On the bus for the return trip from Cantorei tour, we were treated to narration of compiled "senior predictions," hilarious made-up stories about what each member of the senior class in the choir will do after graduation. Here's mine: Nate Dogg: Furiously bursting into the NYC hiphop underground, Nate Dogg releases the mix tape: "What’s up…the Ceiling. You?". The Cubs finally reach the World Series in 2013 and Nate Dogg is excited. Being flown in a private jet to sing the 7th inning stretch of Game 7, his hip hop track "Take Me Out to the Ball(er) Game" featuring Kanye West leads the [Cubs] to win the game. His clothing line and fragnance titled "N8 Addict" destroy all other options and becomes the Congress endorsed Smell of the Century.

Ole Spring Relief: immediate recap

Man, I need to take more weeks off from all electronic forms of communication. With the slight possible exception of not having my phone with me so I could take pictures of everything I saw and did, it did me some wonders to just have the outdoors and not rely so much on computers and crap.

It was an interesting experience. Out of the 120-or-so people that joined us on the voyage to Biloxi (pronounced "Bil-lux-ee" and not "Bil-ox-ee") in Mississippi, I probably knew about ten people, and perhaps one or two even decently well. So in addition to the service work that I had to do, I had a new challenge to take on, which was getting to know all sorts of people well (and people different from the types that I hang out with). I think I did a good job of that.

So, on to the particulars of the OSR trip: we left last Friday (the 21st) and bussed down to New Orleans and hung out there for 8 hours last Saturday. After going to Easter services, the beach, and taking a tour of the damage around the area on Sunday, we spent the work week divided up into multiple groups and shipping out to various outposts in Biloxi, Gulfport, Ocean Springs, Moss Point (all in MS). Monday and Tuesday I spent painting and general assisting with a couple houses, apparently the only ones that didn't get completely destroyed in all of eastern Biloxi. Wednesday I helped pick up trash off streets, including about 50 beer bottles in a 10-ft radius (yeah, street cleaning is not my favorite...). Thursday and Friday the group I was assigned was due to be sent out for more street cleaning, but I volunteered myself out both days to new jobs that opened up last minute. So Thursday I did yard work around a house in Ocean Springs (kind of like the "rich" suburb of Biloxi), and Friday I tore down drywall and insulation, easily the most fun work I did all week.

The best parts, though, were three-fold: making new friends, catching some 'rays, and enjoying one last camp-like experience. Honestly, camps were the highlight of my childhood, and I still remember being really bummed out back in 2002 when I realized I would never go to one again. We had a talent show and a bonfire on Friday night (finally felt like spring break, even if it was for one night), and we had a couple stopovers in New Orleans (which I already mentioned) and Memphis.

Like in past years, it's weird being back at Olaf again. It's not so much because it's empty, but the realization will hit that the reason I know most of the people on my trip is because we go to the same school (and many of the new friends I made I didn't first meet on campus). I dunno, it's just a weird feeling for me, one I know that will subside as I run into the same people again over the coming weeks.

We also had to write a quasi-daily journal while we were down there and turn it in upon return to campus. The journal itself is for the people at the Lilly Foundation who made the OSR trips possible, so we had to answer some questions that they drew up about the experiences. Whenever I get mine back I'll post what I wrote.

Back to intellectual labor.

The pot of gold

Earlier this evening (yeah the sun was still out, thanks to Daylight Savings Time) I had to make a run into town, and in addition to witnessing the first real rain of the calendar year, this rainbow caught my eye through the east window of the Subway restaurant at the corner of Rtes 3 and 19. I snapped this pic after I left. If you look really closely, you'll see that the rainbow is actually closer than it appears; it was closer than the farthest line of trees, and I'm thinking it landed on the Cannon River in the background (you can't see it from here, but it's there). A stunning sight indeed.

Cat anecdote

I was just going back through a few blog posts from about a year ago. I found out a friend's dog died a week or so ago, so I reached out (via a facebook wall post). Doing so kind of triggered bits of memories when Maggie passed this coming week last year, so I reread my sentiments and philosophies I had spewed out in the aftermath. I had written that I'd never taken the chance to pick Maggie up (for some reason I could never really get myself to figure out how to hold her, or the courage to do so, so I just hugged and pet her instead). When I went home for break a little more than a month ago there was this one evening when I was rubbing Teya's belly and my mom wanted to get her attention. So I scooped her up and carried her all the way over before I realized what I was doing. I finally figured out how to pick up and hold a cat, and with Teya it was easy. I'm not sure if I'd dare try that with Cotton yet, but (and with the proverbial twinkle in the eye) I'm sure Maggie would have been proud of me. Maybe. ;-)

The day before this blog was born

On March 5, 2005 I was nowhere near where I wanted to be. Sure, I happened to be visiting Lani Land for the second time ever on a men's fellowship/retreat with FCA, and I spent much of the time praying and playing broomball (as well as recording "Ironic Oblivions" with a motley crew of musicians back at Olaf later that evening). I even tore a hole in the bottom of one of my shoes (yup, smack-dab in the meat of the material) while playing broomball.

But also on the day before this blog was born, a funeral was held at St. Luke's Church in Evanston for Mr. Lefkow, whose death was incurred in a fashion not too different from five other people just yesterday. I felt like I needed to be 400 or so miles southeast of where I was, and the day was full of mourning.

I know, it's kind of weird to talk about the day before March 6, 2005 in this fashion, but I know that there are some people (displaced as they are) who feel they should be "there" for the victims' family and friends. All I know is, unlike Virginia Tech, I've actually been to NIU. I went out there with my dad one day, back when he used to teach a few lessons in De Kalb. And given these recent events it's hit me that the VT event was sadly not a blip on the otherwise peaceful college campus radar.

I'm not at all worried that it might happen at Olaf anytime soon. But at the same time the increase of the frequency of these events does scare me a bit. And I'd sure hate to have to be in a similar position as I was on the day before this blog's birth date should the unthinkable happen.

Eh, trust in God, I guess, so that these things stop. Especially since the nature of this latest event is totally mind-blowing.

I went to the Ole Orchestra home concert tonight (they were on tour over post-Interim break), and amid the wide and exciting smorgasbord of selections there was a dose of sentimentality midway through the evening. SMA (Amundson's "new" name) had written a piece commemorating the life of a former percussionist in the orchestra, and before they performed it he told the audience to think of everything and everyone dear in their lives while it would be played. Unintentionally, I had been reflecting over a few people previously in my life who had passed. I've been trying (struggling sometimes) to reconcile with the differences of the then vs now in terms of their presence(s) and lack thereof. So the work was a stronger memory refresher in that sense, and it also served as a reminder of where our (mine, anyway) life's priorities should be.

I also had to smile when I noticed what the melodic motive was that set off all the melodies throughout the work. SMA had taken the first and last letters of the young percussionist's first and last names, and upon hearing it I discovered that it was one different from the melodic motive I created in the "O Lord our Governor" I wrote 9 years ago ("E-C-D-G" vs "C-D-G-E").

Reality bites

So I'm having some difficulty motivating myself to come up with sketches for a percussion piece. Even though I've never written strictly for drums, et al., 'twas I and I only who decided to pursue this. Since I'm taking percussion class this semester it was an excellent chance to give this a shot as I'm learning about technique for these particular instruments. So what's keeping me from taking action?

I did push myself quite a bit in the weeks coming into my recital, which now seems like a long time ago. As a result, when I finally had that chance to exhale I probably exhaled too much (not to mention have been weaving in and out of health since then) and simply have not been motivated to do very much. I mean, I pretty much just have to pass all my classes and then get up there and collect a not-so-random sheet of paper with my name on it that says I did well enough and completed enough requirements for something to have the *ahem* privilege of not needing to pay tuition anymore (yeah, that would be my diploma, for those of you missing the dry words). And because of that, it finally and officially hit me that, darn, I'm practically in complete charge of my life.

(There are, of course, the obvious societal limitations, but I don't really think of them as such.)

Over the last few years I've always had something to do of a specific semblance, whether it was doing work for school till school was complete, or singing in choirs, or other related stuff. But now, I'm not really made to do anything anymore. Some people would treat this like the single happiest event in their life, but I'm not exactly following suit. Yes, I want to live and to enjoy life, but the structure that was always there will soon be gone. I was actually posed this very particular question twice over the last 24 hours, what are you doing this summer?, and both of my friends who asked this were very well aware of the fact that I will be done with school. I got offered to stay in a friend's home basement in Northfield for the summer. The rent is not bad, but given that I need to be looking for longer-term work, finding a job specifically for the summer might be counterintuitive to said goal (especially since my assets are in music). The point is, I want structure. Nay, I crave it, if for no other reason than the greatest periods of my life (i.e. more than just a single event) have occurred when I've had the greatest structure (not to be confused with greatest workload).

I will be spending next week working on the Ole Spring Relief trip down in Biloxi, MS for my spring break. My days will be packed literally from 6 AM to 6 PM helping rebuild buildings and lives in the deep South region where Hurricane Katrina hit a little over 2 1/2 years ago. As a result I will be working in a heavily structured environment. While some of the stuff that will happen looks kind of daunting right now, I know it'll be just fine once I get into the swing of things. Of course, a side effect is that, after tomorrow I won't be online to write any more posts for a little over a week (assuming, of course, that I post tomorrow). But I will be one with nature, one with a whole bunch of people that I will be meeting for the first time (both Oles and locals), and it will be a chance to take in something under a friendly structure that someone else provided.

When I return from spring break, I'll have my Alice paper(s) and finals, but then the road of familiarity ends once again. After that point, someone's gonna have to pave the thing, because it's never been paved before. I just hope there's a layer or two of concrete under there before they put the asphalt on top; otherwise the new road will crumble pretty quickly.

Day and Night

With a blizzard hitting Chicago, it didn't take long to realize the possibility--and probability--of my noontime flight getting delayed. For the 2 or so hours that we were stranded on the runway (we also spent the better part of a third hour returning to the gate for people who wanted to get food), I noticed a couple wonderful things. First off, the weather in Minneapolis was absolutely beautiful. I snapped up a couple shots of the runway while we were waiting for updates.

(The 2nd pic is supposed to show a plane taking off, but apparently it's so small that it comes off only as a speck here)

Secondly, no one seemed to mind too much that we were having a huge delay. There were a good number of people with connecting flights, and with this situation it would seem many of them would miss their connections. (Of course, with the blizzard, many of the connecting flights were delayed, so it impacted close to all the flights equally.)

Arriving at O'hare, it was completely different than what I'd seen just hours before. I knew there would be a lot of snow blowing around, but it's hard for me to really imagine something of that nature (and believe it) until it happens.

That's not the "night" of this post though. While I was on my way to baggage claim I overheard a couple professionally-dressed businessmen (who were going the other way) in an argument. Except it was mostly the white guy screaming at the black guy, "You call me 'sir'!" over and over again.

I think I'd rather live in Minnesota. I'm used to zero-degree weather anyway.

Our pod collage

...is pretty cool. Kudos to Paul (bottom row, second from left) for taking all the pictures and performing all sorts of photoshoppy magic to create this masterpiece. We pretty much got this assembled during the first week of school. It kind of acts in lieu of putting up our names on the front door. I still can't believe no one thought to actually take a pic of this until just a couple days ago (when I came up with said idea).

"God bless you"

It's quite amazing what those words can do. I had been killing myself for spacing out on chapel time earlier today, where I was supposed to play a piece for reflection (an original composition that I had been meaning to play in public and get recorded, too), as well as a few other moral dilemmas I'd been grappling with over the last couple weeks. The sad part was, not only did I space on it, but I didn't realize it until a full two hours after it had happened, as I was walking to lunch.

I'm not sure why I decided to go to the Cage today. I normally go to the Caf (main cafeteria for those reading who don't understand Ole lingo, the Cage is more of a coffeehouse atmosphere, also an on-campus place to buy food), but I decided I needed a different kind of food. While I was there I ran into  Daniel, one of my super-Christian friends. We'd caught up for a bit before he left, but once I'd sat down and started eating, he returned and said "God bless you."

It was powerful, that's all I can say. Maybe I suddenly felt like I was being brought back into the fold, even if only temporarily. I can't say for sure. Either way, I've been feeling better. :-)

The Custodian Man

Phil is one of the custodians/maintenance men at my dorm. I pass him just about every morning out the building on the way to class. Usually I see him mopping floors or cleaning light fixtures or something. Our conversations are always brief and simple, almost always relating to the weather (today he told me the wind was really blowing out there), but even when I'm having a crappy day his presence helps. He always appears to be cheerful--in a genuine way--and the apparent simple nature of what I know of his life compared to mine somehow lifts me a bit. I guess cheering people up is not part of his job description, but with Phil it might as well be.