When I was younger, I would spend so much time outdoors, that later in life my sisters and I would tell stories about our mother locking me out of the house during the summer, knowing I wouldn't return anyways until dinner.
Dirt and mud, soggy shoes and grass-stained knees, none of these things bothered me. If my hair was greasy, or my shirt was noisome, I never knew. I ran everywhere for the thrill of the wind rushing past my ears, and the momentum in my bones--never to get anywhere quickly (unless it was a race, of course).
I climbed, and imagined without shame, and I unabashedly played with toys. If the sun was out, I was outside, and if it was rainy... I was outside then too; or, at least until my mom called me back.
When did I learn to worry?
Even at the age of twenty-two, I am adolescent, but I have matured noticeably each year. What's funny is that I'm coming to an understanding of maturity that is very different from what I had imagined.
When I was in middle school, I quickly learned that if I wanted to fit in, and be cool, I would have to dawn certain costumes procured at the proper locations; I would have to keep calm and seldom smile; and I could no longer watch cartoons, or play with toys, or anything associated with childhood. I used swear words for the first time in sixth grade, and I learned how to abandon people that would bring my reputation down.
Since that time, I have come a long way. Lately I have begun to understand that maturity is not in reserved action, complete rationality, or social stoicism. We are still mature if we climb trees, or chase each other, or imagine worlds. Maturity is not supposed to lance the child out of us. In fact, I have met many who have seemed to be completely without their inner-child, and yet could not be described as anything other than juvenile individuals.
Adult deals with age and status. Maturity deals with a recognition of responsibility and urgency towards the amelioration of the world around oneself.
Understanding one's inner-child, though, requires some necessary boundaries.
I am allowed to climb trees, but if all I ever did (even if just during my free time) was climb trees, I would lose track of maturity on some level. For what does climbing trees accomplish besides a fresh perspective? And not to say that everything requires an accomplishment for its justification. But if I define all of my times of rest, and/or all of my relationships, by climbing trees, something would feel out of place. And if it came to the point that all I ever talked about, and all that I ever looked forward to, was the weekend so I could once again feel bark on my palms, and the smell of wood in my lungs, would not my life look futile?
When I was a child, my obligations were different, and so my life was allowed to focus around play. As an adult, I have an agency[ies] to fulfill.
However, the child must remain, and when I play, it seems I should be allowed to do so without fear or judgment. I should be allowed to dream. And why the hell can't I play with Legos? And these shouldn't be things that I skip, either, for the purpose of always working. The one who always works, quickly forgets how to sleep. And the one who does not sleep can no longer dream.
Our society struggles with a strange tendency to equate adulthood with a loss of humility. One of the first things one is taught in Middle School about growing up is that goofing off is uncool. When we view the things we love and bring us joy as shameful, we are too proud. Children do not comprehend pride. A soggy shoe is fun to walk on for the noise it produces. And hair is just a little extra color on someone's head.
To live healthy and fulfilling lives, our child must walk with us. I think in that way, maturity walks in stride with humility.
"And calling to him a child, [Jesus] put him in the midst of them and said, 'Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'"
Matthew 18:2-4
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
MUTEMATH: After
MUTEMATH took to the stage at the Orbit Room last week Tuesday, Grand Rapids being the exact halfway mark for their Fall of 2009 Armistice tour.
Fans were already in line Tuesday, hours before doors opened, many sporting MUTEMATH apparel, and standing on their toes, trying to catch a glimpse of band members as they moved back and forth between the buses and the venue.
Death By Dancing and As Tall As Lions opened for Mute Math that night.
Death By Dancing was a bit of a surprise for everyone attending the concert, since the tickets and website listed As Tall As Lions as the only opener.
They started the show strong, and although few recognized the name, many were left with a sense of urgency to find out.
As Tall As Lions followed Death By Dancing, giving what many assumed was the reason for two openers.
Dan Nigro, As Tall As Lions’ singer, had developed vocal nodules, their bassist explained, while touring with MUTEMATH, and had opted to skip the Grand Rapids show in order to take time off and heal.
The band instead played a half an hour to forty-minute jam session that some who had attended earlier shows on the tour, said was a lot better than As Tall As Lions’ usual performance.
Then it was MUTEMATH’s turn.
The crowd was wild before the band even entered the building.
There were eruptions of applause every time a roadie brought out or set up a new instrument, and there was an especially loud roar at the sight of Paul Meany’s trademark keytar.
By the time the band did take to the stage, the audience’s reaction was deafening.
“The Nerve,” the opening track on MUTEMATH’s sophomore album, Armistice, was also the first song on the night’s lineup.
The performance included fan favorites like “Chaos,” “Plan B,” and “Typical,” while also incorporating almost every song from Armistice, the album their tour was promoting.
Of course the encore was almost entirely based around one of the band’s most well known tracks, “Reset,” an incredible mix of written material and improvisation that has easily made it the pinnacle moment of MUTEMATH live shows.
Just the encore lasted for at least half an hour, as the band played through “Pins and Needles” and “Spotlight,” before ending on “Reset” and “Break the Same.”
The band had claimed before starting the Armistice tour that they had been working on some new elements for their concerts.
They practice and brainstorm for their performance almost all the time, said a MUTEMATH representative, “it’s like all they do is play a show and then plan what they’re going to do at the next one.”
During the summer, MUTEMATH’s manager, Kevin Kookogey, told fans that the band was comparing the difference between their old performances and what they were planning for their next tour as the difference between middle school and community college.
One of the most notable additions was when Darren King (MUTEMATH’s drummer) placed his bass drum into the hands of people in the audience and then stood on top of it, only to jump off into the crowd a few moments later, and crowd surf back to the stage.
Roy Mitchell-Cardenas, the bassist for MUTEMATH, incorporated the use of a bow on his stand-up bass.
He also utilized the impact of striking a propped up kick drum with one hand, while forming chords on his bass with the other hand to create a harmonious percussion.
Paul Meany, MUTEMATH’s lead vocals and keyboardist, was often jumping on top of his keyboard and then off again, at a couple points even doing hand stands on it, mid-performance.
Despite the constant movement, the quality of the music was never compromised.
Another huge element of their shows that was certainly present at this one was the use of lighting.
Electronic, stand-up drums shot out projected fireballs upon being struck by band members, and heavy backlighting led to an almost Germanic expressionism of the musical, often percussive elements on stage.
Even in their older shows, some form of strong backlight was present in order to emphasize certain moments where action and sound purposely combined.
But most of these elements seem to be with great purpose: to keep the audience’s energy up.
“They [MUTEMATH] seem to draw their energy from the audience,” one fan pointed out, discussing how the worst MUTEMATH performance he had ever seen was when the band played in Tokyo, and was at least ten yards separated from their audience.
At this concert, the audience was only a couple feet away, a barrier often broken by the band.
One of the greatest moments was at the presentation of what fans lovingly refer to as the “Atari,” a home-made, guitar shaped synthesizer the band constructed primarily out of Atari parts
The instrument is produced every concert during one song, played by Paul Meany before he passes it off into the audience for fans to play.
After the concert, a large number of fans stuck around outside, waiting for an hour in on and off sprinkling rain to meet with the band members who excitedly obliged.
Fans thanked the band for their show that night, as well as the music they’ve produced, some even expressing to the band members how the band’s music had shaped lives or inspired direction.
Their music has been from the start an attempt to break molds, whether musical, or ideological.
They’re not a Christian band, but they are attempting to inspire restoration.
Even in the hardest times, they’re fighting for armistice in the hope for a truce.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
What Motion Do We Make? (1st draft)
Outside my window lies
a world beyond the kitchen sink
so quiet like a frame
and painted in the tame movements of
Winter's approach.
The world yawns in daze
as days pass beneath sun's rays
and I long to crawl like the
Bear and wrap warm earth about me tight.
If winter were just one night!
If my being were the limit of
success and the definition of solidarity.
No, I am no monster with sharpened claws or fangs.
But like the leaves I long to fall within nature's arms and rest.
Do trees fall for less than this?
Am I bound to always wander,
unattached from closest kin?
Oh Nature, how she wanders
also with the world,
a movement always turning.
We are but mortals ever moving
and we alter so,
like brushes in the wind.
Some day the dawn breaks
deep within us all
and we too return to Nature's arms
like bright leaves or falling stars.
All must motion forth to rest.
a world beyond the kitchen sink
so quiet like a frame
and painted in the tame movements of
Winter's approach.
The world yawns in daze
as days pass beneath sun's rays
and I long to crawl like the
Bear and wrap warm earth about me tight.
If winter were just one night!
If my being were the limit of
success and the definition of solidarity.
No, I am no monster with sharpened claws or fangs.
But like the leaves I long to fall within nature's arms and rest.
Do trees fall for less than this?
Am I bound to always wander,
unattached from closest kin?
Oh Nature, how she wanders
also with the world,
a movement always turning.
We are but mortals ever moving
and we alter so,
like brushes in the wind.
Some day the dawn breaks
deep within us all
and we too return to Nature's arms
like bright leaves or falling stars.
All must motion forth to rest.
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Adventures of Lewis Beacon: Part 2 - The Hookah Lounge (continued)
I was going to save this next slot for my MUTEMATH: After entry. But sinceI'm doing it as an article for the Chimes next week, I'm saving it until then.
This slot is instead will be taken by a continuation of my Lewis Beacon experiment. So without further adieu:
The three guys sat down at a table closer to the front and immediately gave some orders to the waitress. There was no way for Lewis to hear what they were saying. They looked perfectly normal, like old friends.
"Is that them," Lisa asked.
"Uh-huh," Lewis mouthed. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"Who's the guy with them? Is that--" Kyle began before Lewis cut him off.
"Brad... yeah."
"Well, he doesn't look bad at all," Karen said. Suddenly she smiled. "Did you just make that up?"
The whole group started to chuckle.
"No. Guys, it's not funny," Lewis tried to defend himself. "Those are the same three guys I saw in the locker room. And that middle one? That's Brad."
"Well if they were beating him up, why isn't he all bruised and scared?" Karen was annoyed that Lewis was continuing the joke.
"I... I don't know. I don't get it."
"Yo, maybe you should go over there and ask them" Hewett suggested.
The rest of them laughed.
"Dude, whatever you think you saw, you obviously didn't," Kyle said. "Maybe they were different guys."
Lewis looked at the rest of the group. They were all staring at him, waiting to see what he was going to do. He stood up, and then without a word, sat down next to Hewett, just barely squeezing onto the couch. It allowed him to watch Brad without obviously turning his body. There was a moment of awkward silence and then Karen broke it, asking Lisa how classes were going for her. Kyle piped in a tease at Lisa's poor study habits. Hewett pointed out that Kyle's were no better, and the conversation continued similarly as the hoses were passed around.
Brad, Brent, and Turk, despite their buddy-buddy appearances when they came into the lounge, were hardly talking now. Brent and Turk were watching a soccer game on a TV mounted on the opposite wall. Brad was sitting slumped back, staring absently at the hookah.
The waitress returned with their drinks. They had all ordered the same thing. After dropping them off, the waitress spotted Lewis' gaze and came over to him.
"How's everyone doing here," she asked cordially. "Can I get you another drink?"
Lewis realized she was talking to him and looked up.
"I'll have whatever those three are drinking." He nodded in the direction of Brent's table.''
"Sure thing." She turned to rest of the group and asked if they needed anything. Lewis continued staring at Brad. He hardly moved.
A minute later the waitress returned with Lewis' order. It was and energy drink called COCAINE. Lewis was thanking the waitress when Hewett suddenly elbowed him in the ribs.
"What?"
"It looks like your friend's going to the bathroom." Lewis looked up as Brad walked by their table and into the back. He was wearing a different shirt from before in the locker rooms, but it was still the same guy. The hood on his red hoodie was pulled over his head and the complexion of his face looked strange. Lewis couldn't tell if it was his imagination, or the dim lighting of the lounge that made Brad look like he was wearing makeup.
"I'm going to ask him if he's alright," Lewis said as he got up and followed Brad to the bathrooms.
There was a long, thin hallway that went around the kitchen and opened up into a small waiting room for the single restrooms. Brad was just closing the men's room door as Lewis came around the corner and jammed his shoe into the crack.
"What the fu--" Lewis quickly threw his hand over Brad's mouth.
"Shhh! I know what's going on, I want to help you."
Brad pulled his head away and looked angrily at Lewis.
"The fuck you know?"
"I know you've written an article on something those two guys you're with aren't happy about. I know they just roughed you over in the Men's Locker Room at school. I know you're here against your will."
Brad opened the door more.
"You don't know anything," he said, sounding much less certain than before. His eyes were shaky, darting at the hallway behind them and then back at Lewis. In the better lighting Lewis could tell he was wearing makeup. Finally Brad sighed.
"I can't fight them alone," he said. "I think if you hit anyone enough they'll give in."
"Let me help. I'll call the police right now, tell them you've been assaulted. They'll come in a few seconds and you can testify--"
"It's not that simple. If you want to help get my computer back. It's in my room, 250 Boer. I don't have a roommate. If you can get it, bring it to the document rack on the second floor of the library, tomorrow at five."
"But what about you?"
"I'll be fine. Just get my computer."
"They're adults. The police will--"
"--You really don't know anything. Thanks anyways, but you don't want to get involved."
"Library at five. Got it." Lewis turned and nearly ran into a girl walking towards the women's room.
After apologizing to the girl, Lewis went back and sat down next to Hewett. Everyone at his table was staring at him, waiting to hear what happened.
"Well?" They all seemed to ask in unison.
"I'll explain later. Right now I've got to go take care of something."
He pulled a crumple of money out of his pocket and counted out what he owed.
"Are you ditching us?" Lisa spouted in fake annoyance.
"Yeah. I'm going to help him."
As he left, Lewis realized Brent and Turk were finally talking to each other. He tried to look as naturally as possible as he strained to listen to their conversation. But the music and the people were too loud. Lewis hurried onto the street and down to his car. He had to get to Boer before Brent and Turk did.
This slot is instead will be taken by a continuation of my Lewis Beacon experiment. So without further adieu:
The three guys sat down at a table closer to the front and immediately gave some orders to the waitress. There was no way for Lewis to hear what they were saying. They looked perfectly normal, like old friends.
"Is that them," Lisa asked.
"Uh-huh," Lewis mouthed. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"Who's the guy with them? Is that--" Kyle began before Lewis cut him off.
"Brad... yeah."
"Well, he doesn't look bad at all," Karen said. Suddenly she smiled. "Did you just make that up?"
The whole group started to chuckle.
"No. Guys, it's not funny," Lewis tried to defend himself. "Those are the same three guys I saw in the locker room. And that middle one? That's Brad."
"Well if they were beating him up, why isn't he all bruised and scared?" Karen was annoyed that Lewis was continuing the joke.
"I... I don't know. I don't get it."
"Yo, maybe you should go over there and ask them" Hewett suggested.
The rest of them laughed.
"Dude, whatever you think you saw, you obviously didn't," Kyle said. "Maybe they were different guys."
Lewis looked at the rest of the group. They were all staring at him, waiting to see what he was going to do. He stood up, and then without a word, sat down next to Hewett, just barely squeezing onto the couch. It allowed him to watch Brad without obviously turning his body. There was a moment of awkward silence and then Karen broke it, asking Lisa how classes were going for her. Kyle piped in a tease at Lisa's poor study habits. Hewett pointed out that Kyle's were no better, and the conversation continued similarly as the hoses were passed around.
Brad, Brent, and Turk, despite their buddy-buddy appearances when they came into the lounge, were hardly talking now. Brent and Turk were watching a soccer game on a TV mounted on the opposite wall. Brad was sitting slumped back, staring absently at the hookah.
The waitress returned with their drinks. They had all ordered the same thing. After dropping them off, the waitress spotted Lewis' gaze and came over to him.
"How's everyone doing here," she asked cordially. "Can I get you another drink?"
Lewis realized she was talking to him and looked up.
"I'll have whatever those three are drinking." He nodded in the direction of Brent's table.''
"Sure thing." She turned to rest of the group and asked if they needed anything. Lewis continued staring at Brad. He hardly moved.
A minute later the waitress returned with Lewis' order. It was and energy drink called COCAINE. Lewis was thanking the waitress when Hewett suddenly elbowed him in the ribs.
"What?"
"It looks like your friend's going to the bathroom." Lewis looked up as Brad walked by their table and into the back. He was wearing a different shirt from before in the locker rooms, but it was still the same guy. The hood on his red hoodie was pulled over his head and the complexion of his face looked strange. Lewis couldn't tell if it was his imagination, or the dim lighting of the lounge that made Brad look like he was wearing makeup.
"I'm going to ask him if he's alright," Lewis said as he got up and followed Brad to the bathrooms.
There was a long, thin hallway that went around the kitchen and opened up into a small waiting room for the single restrooms. Brad was just closing the men's room door as Lewis came around the corner and jammed his shoe into the crack.
"What the fu--" Lewis quickly threw his hand over Brad's mouth.
"Shhh! I know what's going on, I want to help you."
Brad pulled his head away and looked angrily at Lewis.
"The fuck you know?"
"I know you've written an article on something those two guys you're with aren't happy about. I know they just roughed you over in the Men's Locker Room at school. I know you're here against your will."
Brad opened the door more.
"You don't know anything," he said, sounding much less certain than before. His eyes were shaky, darting at the hallway behind them and then back at Lewis. In the better lighting Lewis could tell he was wearing makeup. Finally Brad sighed.
"I can't fight them alone," he said. "I think if you hit anyone enough they'll give in."
"Let me help. I'll call the police right now, tell them you've been assaulted. They'll come in a few seconds and you can testify--"
"It's not that simple. If you want to help get my computer back. It's in my room, 250 Boer. I don't have a roommate. If you can get it, bring it to the document rack on the second floor of the library, tomorrow at five."
"But what about you?"
"I'll be fine. Just get my computer."
"They're adults. The police will--"
"--You really don't know anything. Thanks anyways, but you don't want to get involved."
"Library at five. Got it." Lewis turned and nearly ran into a girl walking towards the women's room.
After apologizing to the girl, Lewis went back and sat down next to Hewett. Everyone at his table was staring at him, waiting to hear what happened.
"Well?" They all seemed to ask in unison.
"I'll explain later. Right now I've got to go take care of something."
He pulled a crumple of money out of his pocket and counted out what he owed.
"Are you ditching us?" Lisa spouted in fake annoyance.
"Yeah. I'm going to help him."
As he left, Lewis realized Brent and Turk were finally talking to each other. He tried to look as naturally as possible as he strained to listen to their conversation. But the music and the people were too loud. Lewis hurried onto the street and down to his car. He had to get to Boer before Brent and Turk did.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
MUTEMATH: Before
The last two years of high school were hard times in my life.
For the first two years I fit in well where I wanted to, I was friends with a lot of people, I was a major personality in my 400-student, senior high, youth group, and I had a well-paying job at American Eagle that provided me with a continuous supply of very cheap, fashionable clothing.
Then one day my world crashed down around me. Some of my closest friends hurt me deeply. I lost confidence in myself, and thus also lost confidence in God whom I though would protect me.
I stopped listening to the factory-molded CCM that had for so long filled my music libraries, and sought out the more independent and underground of the Christian music world. As time went on, that also led to a discovery of quality secular music, aside from oldies and jazz. One of the first artists I came across on a Pandora-esqe online radio site was a band called Mute Math. They had only recently released an EP entitled Reset, and I soon found myself downloading it to enjoy the album in its entirety.
It was not long after that when I learned two of the members of Mute Math were originally a part of another old Christian band I was once a fan of--Earthsuit. I began following Mute Math pretty loyally, although I never had a chance to see them live for at least the next two years. At the time, I was into a different music scene which took most of my focus. Jazz, at the time, was much more important to me.
I asked for a turntable for Christmas, and my parents got it for me. The search was on to find my favorite artists on vinyl. But then I saw an advertisement for an exclusive Mutemath vinyl. They had just begun touring in promotion of their premier, self-titled album. Unable to attend the show in my area, I wasted no time in at least ordering the vinyl.
Then the hard times got worse with more friend drama. I felt like an outsider, and was ever-conscious of my brokenness. The album arrived in the mail not long after, and it became all that I ever played on that old turntable of mine. Their music was exactly my style. It was obscure and fresh, electronic and acoustic, and all around different from anything I had heard before. The lyrics spoke into my life, and a lot of the things I were feeling were touched on in one song or another.
It was music to get me through a hard time.
Tonight I am attending their concert, which is part of a promotional tour for their sophomore album. And let me tell you, I am excited!
For the first two years I fit in well where I wanted to, I was friends with a lot of people, I was a major personality in my 400-student, senior high, youth group, and I had a well-paying job at American Eagle that provided me with a continuous supply of very cheap, fashionable clothing.
Then one day my world crashed down around me. Some of my closest friends hurt me deeply. I lost confidence in myself, and thus also lost confidence in God whom I though would protect me.
I stopped listening to the factory-molded CCM that had for so long filled my music libraries, and sought out the more independent and underground of the Christian music world. As time went on, that also led to a discovery of quality secular music, aside from oldies and jazz. One of the first artists I came across on a Pandora-esqe online radio site was a band called Mute Math. They had only recently released an EP entitled Reset, and I soon found myself downloading it to enjoy the album in its entirety.
It was not long after that when I learned two of the members of Mute Math were originally a part of another old Christian band I was once a fan of--Earthsuit. I began following Mute Math pretty loyally, although I never had a chance to see them live for at least the next two years. At the time, I was into a different music scene which took most of my focus. Jazz, at the time, was much more important to me.
I asked for a turntable for Christmas, and my parents got it for me. The search was on to find my favorite artists on vinyl. But then I saw an advertisement for an exclusive Mutemath vinyl. They had just begun touring in promotion of their premier, self-titled album. Unable to attend the show in my area, I wasted no time in at least ordering the vinyl.
Then the hard times got worse with more friend drama. I felt like an outsider, and was ever-conscious of my brokenness. The album arrived in the mail not long after, and it became all that I ever played on that old turntable of mine. Their music was exactly my style. It was obscure and fresh, electronic and acoustic, and all around different from anything I had heard before. The lyrics spoke into my life, and a lot of the things I were feeling were touched on in one song or another.
It was music to get me through a hard time.
Tonight I am attending their concert, which is part of a promotional tour for their sophomore album. And let me tell you, I am excited!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Breaking with a lot of Uncertainty
Study break!
It's been too long since I've added onto this, and there are definitely a couple significant events that ought to be added.
A week ago last Tuesday I was leaving to go to school when I stepped outside and discovered my car no longer where I had parked it the night before. From what we can figure, I had parked Merlin across the street from someone's driveway a couple houses down from me, and they didn't like it, so they called the police and claimed that it was blocking their driveway. The police obligingly came and towed it bright and early that morning before anyone else was awake. The rest of my day was completely devoted to Merlin's recovery. Unfortunately, while I managed to grab a ride with Nate to get downtown to the police department, I did not have a ride from the police department to the impound. As it turns out, that's a 2.7 mile walk, and I actually walked past it before turning back, making that about a 3.2 mile walk. Oh yeah, and it was pouring rain the entire time. That was not a good day. I missed my class, payed a lot of money, and ultimately fell behind due to the lack of productivity on what usually functions as my main work day.
The weekend before I had spent on a somewhat entertaining camping trip with my Wilderness Pursuits class (a surprising requirement in order to pass the class). However, the weekends are normally my time of rest, and as I discovered that week, it's hard to be productive when you don't feel like you've really stopped or had a break for two weeks. My car getting impounded definitely didn't help getting on track for that week either. So I grew a beard and prayed to whatever God I pray to that my week might end well. And for all extensive purposes it did. I went to the Symphony with some great friends, and then met some other friends at a bar for a birthday. The rest of the weekend was extremely restful, and I managed to get substantial work done around the house.
I also decided that, so far, I've never met a Joe, Joey, or Joseph that I've liked besides my uncle Joe, and that makes me wonder if people really do develop certain characteristics based solely on their name. That thought made me decide I did not want to be like the other Davids. I have liked only a fraction of the Dave's and Davids that I've met. I want to be a Goodwin. Although I'm positive that only a fraction of the people I know like me.
Then last week I realized that I could not escape Jesus. This is because I sold him my soul for salvation. But then Obenchain completely rocked my world and asked me if the reason for joining a religion was really for personal salvation. She seemed to think personal salvation was a silly reason to subscribe to a belief system. Maybe I agree. But I certainly wasn't looking at it like that until she pointed that out. Now I'm considering joining a church.
And I guess that brings me to today. I went to Sherman Street church. Before the pastor even preached I knew what was going on. Jesus has begun his move back into my life. I suppose they were words of Sherman Street's chaplain that were my hint. She was encouraging the congregation to move about and greet one another, and she said something to the extent of whether we were in love with Jesus, but still learning more about Him everyday, or we were "yearning to know Jesus," we should move about. I don't like the name Jesus because of what it brings up in my mind. In my mind it represents a movement that is superficial, shallow, ignorant, and unproductive. But church this morning was hardly any of that. And quite frankly, I feel like the whole mess of Christianity is inescapable for me. It's something I can't leave. I really don't know what to do. Jesus really isn't working for me in one sense, but He definitely works in another. I really don't know.
I know it's jumbled and rushed and semi-confusing, but I had to get some of these thoughts out while I study. Sometimes I need a break from the things uncertain.
It's been too long since I've added onto this, and there are definitely a couple significant events that ought to be added.
A week ago last Tuesday I was leaving to go to school when I stepped outside and discovered my car no longer where I had parked it the night before. From what we can figure, I had parked Merlin across the street from someone's driveway a couple houses down from me, and they didn't like it, so they called the police and claimed that it was blocking their driveway. The police obligingly came and towed it bright and early that morning before anyone else was awake. The rest of my day was completely devoted to Merlin's recovery. Unfortunately, while I managed to grab a ride with Nate to get downtown to the police department, I did not have a ride from the police department to the impound. As it turns out, that's a 2.7 mile walk, and I actually walked past it before turning back, making that about a 3.2 mile walk. Oh yeah, and it was pouring rain the entire time. That was not a good day. I missed my class, payed a lot of money, and ultimately fell behind due to the lack of productivity on what usually functions as my main work day.
The weekend before I had spent on a somewhat entertaining camping trip with my Wilderness Pursuits class (a surprising requirement in order to pass the class). However, the weekends are normally my time of rest, and as I discovered that week, it's hard to be productive when you don't feel like you've really stopped or had a break for two weeks. My car getting impounded definitely didn't help getting on track for that week either. So I grew a beard and prayed to whatever God I pray to that my week might end well. And for all extensive purposes it did. I went to the Symphony with some great friends, and then met some other friends at a bar for a birthday. The rest of the weekend was extremely restful, and I managed to get substantial work done around the house.
I also decided that, so far, I've never met a Joe, Joey, or Joseph that I've liked besides my uncle Joe, and that makes me wonder if people really do develop certain characteristics based solely on their name. That thought made me decide I did not want to be like the other Davids. I have liked only a fraction of the Dave's and Davids that I've met. I want to be a Goodwin. Although I'm positive that only a fraction of the people I know like me.
Then last week I realized that I could not escape Jesus. This is because I sold him my soul for salvation. But then Obenchain completely rocked my world and asked me if the reason for joining a religion was really for personal salvation. She seemed to think personal salvation was a silly reason to subscribe to a belief system. Maybe I agree. But I certainly wasn't looking at it like that until she pointed that out. Now I'm considering joining a church.
And I guess that brings me to today. I went to Sherman Street church. Before the pastor even preached I knew what was going on. Jesus has begun his move back into my life. I suppose they were words of Sherman Street's chaplain that were my hint. She was encouraging the congregation to move about and greet one another, and she said something to the extent of whether we were in love with Jesus, but still learning more about Him everyday, or we were "yearning to know Jesus," we should move about. I don't like the name Jesus because of what it brings up in my mind. In my mind it represents a movement that is superficial, shallow, ignorant, and unproductive. But church this morning was hardly any of that. And quite frankly, I feel like the whole mess of Christianity is inescapable for me. It's something I can't leave. I really don't know what to do. Jesus really isn't working for me in one sense, but He definitely works in another. I really don't know.
I know it's jumbled and rushed and semi-confusing, but I had to get some of these thoughts out while I study. Sometimes I need a break from the things uncertain.
Friday, October 2, 2009
The Adventures of Lewis Beacon: Part 2 - The Hookah Lounge
It was a cold walk from Lewis' car to the lounge. Winter seemed to be stepping on Fall's toes. People stood on the sidewalks, huddled in groups talking outside of a hot dog joint and coffee shop across the street. They were mainly just post-punk kids, with their dirty, greasy hair and skinny jeans, pretending their rebellion counted against mother nature.
Someone pulled up in their car, right in front of the Hookah Lounge. A kid, probably no older than eighteen, hopped out and grabbed the door to the lounge as the car drove away. Lewis snuck in behind the kid.
Inside the lounge the smell of smoke was permanently in the air. Loud hip-hop bass bumped from speakers in the ceiling. Long, slow strains of hookah smoke wound lazily out of the mouths of a group next to the door. They were sitting on plush couches and swivel chairs around a table with three large hookahs. People talked and laughed over the music. The owner sat at the bar towards the back, staring at a wall-mounted flat screen TV.
Lewis was supposed to meet some friends that night. For a minute he stood at the door, staring around the club. The greeter was just asking him where he'd like to sit when Lewis spotted his friends. They were around a table near the bar. One of his friends, Hewett Vekeraam, stood up and waved at Lewis. Hewett was extremely tall, nearly six and a half feet to be exact. He had dark, brown hair, nearly black, with bright blue eyes.
Also at the table were Hewett's girlfriend, Karen Linderhill, Kyle Brown, Hewett's roommate, and Kyle's girlfriend, Lisa Phillips.
They had already ordered two hookahs so Lewis asked the waitress for a latte. The waitress walked away, and as soon as she did, Hewett leaned forward and asked, "So what took you so long?"
Lewis smirked, "You wouldn't believe if I told you."
"Try us," quipped Lisa.
Lewis recounted the entire event that had just happened in the gym locker rooms.
"And you didn't help him?" both women exclaimed in unison.
"Yo, fuck that," Hewett said. "If I meet Brent or Turk, I'll fuck them up!"
"I'm kind of with the women," said Kyle, "I'm surprised you didn't help him."
"Dude, they were as big as cavemen," Lewis said. "It would have been like me versus two giants. I wouldn't stand a chance."
"I'm sure my man called Campus Safety," Hewett said in Lewis' defense.
The other three looked at Lewis to see his response. Lewis winced.
"Well... I, uh. I..."
"What?"
"Why not?"
"Great! This Brad kid is probably dead now," Karen huffed, sitting back in the couch.
"They're not going kill anyone. That would be stupid," Lewis said. "You'd never get away with it at Calvin. There are cameras everywhere."
Everyone stopped talking for a while. Lewis could tell that Kyle, Lisa, and Karen were obviously disappointed in him. Hewett just grinned sheepishly. The waitress came back with Lewis' latte and set it down on the table. Lewis thanked her. She smiled fakely and walked away.
Lewis was watching the TV above the bar when Kyle got his attention.
"What did you say 'Brent' looked like?"
"Uh," Lewis turned back towards Kyle, "he was about as big as a house, with a black faux-hawk, and dressed in black sportswear."
Kyle nodded towards the door.
"You might want to see who just came in."
The whole group turned to see three men walk into the lounge: Brent, Turk, and Brad.
Someone pulled up in their car, right in front of the Hookah Lounge. A kid, probably no older than eighteen, hopped out and grabbed the door to the lounge as the car drove away. Lewis snuck in behind the kid.
Inside the lounge the smell of smoke was permanently in the air. Loud hip-hop bass bumped from speakers in the ceiling. Long, slow strains of hookah smoke wound lazily out of the mouths of a group next to the door. They were sitting on plush couches and swivel chairs around a table with three large hookahs. People talked and laughed over the music. The owner sat at the bar towards the back, staring at a wall-mounted flat screen TV.
Lewis was supposed to meet some friends that night. For a minute he stood at the door, staring around the club. The greeter was just asking him where he'd like to sit when Lewis spotted his friends. They were around a table near the bar. One of his friends, Hewett Vekeraam, stood up and waved at Lewis. Hewett was extremely tall, nearly six and a half feet to be exact. He had dark, brown hair, nearly black, with bright blue eyes.
Also at the table were Hewett's girlfriend, Karen Linderhill, Kyle Brown, Hewett's roommate, and Kyle's girlfriend, Lisa Phillips.
They had already ordered two hookahs so Lewis asked the waitress for a latte. The waitress walked away, and as soon as she did, Hewett leaned forward and asked, "So what took you so long?"
Lewis smirked, "You wouldn't believe if I told you."
"Try us," quipped Lisa.
Lewis recounted the entire event that had just happened in the gym locker rooms.
"And you didn't help him?" both women exclaimed in unison.
"Yo, fuck that," Hewett said. "If I meet Brent or Turk, I'll fuck them up!"
"I'm kind of with the women," said Kyle, "I'm surprised you didn't help him."
"Dude, they were as big as cavemen," Lewis said. "It would have been like me versus two giants. I wouldn't stand a chance."
"I'm sure my man called Campus Safety," Hewett said in Lewis' defense.
The other three looked at Lewis to see his response. Lewis winced.
"Well... I, uh. I..."
"What?"
"Why not?"
"Great! This Brad kid is probably dead now," Karen huffed, sitting back in the couch.
"They're not going kill anyone. That would be stupid," Lewis said. "You'd never get away with it at Calvin. There are cameras everywhere."
Everyone stopped talking for a while. Lewis could tell that Kyle, Lisa, and Karen were obviously disappointed in him. Hewett just grinned sheepishly. The waitress came back with Lewis' latte and set it down on the table. Lewis thanked her. She smiled fakely and walked away.
Lewis was watching the TV above the bar when Kyle got his attention.
"What did you say 'Brent' looked like?"
"Uh," Lewis turned back towards Kyle, "he was about as big as a house, with a black faux-hawk, and dressed in black sportswear."
Kyle nodded towards the door.
"You might want to see who just came in."
The whole group turned to see three men walk into the lounge: Brent, Turk, and Brad.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Running for a Baby Banana
I have really strange dreams. Sometimes they're fun, other times terrifying. People talk about one or two reoccurring dreams they experience regularly. About the only regularity in my dreams is how bizarre they never fail to be.
A good number of them are so strange, I have to write them down. Every once in a while I even turn them into stories... except last time I did that, it didn't really make sense by the end.
Last night, I had a dream that started off in a very terrifying manner. Unfortunately I am only now attempting to record what I saw, and the only things that I remember clearly took place in the middle of my dreaming.
I was running down a side street in an unrecognizable neighborhood. The only familiar aspects of the area were houses that looked similar to the ones in my own neighborhood, and the African-American kids walking down the sidewalk. For some reason I ran over to the kids, and we exchanged some sort of discourse (the content of which now escapes me). Suddenly I heard a commotion down the street and around the corner, so I left the kids and ran to the next street.
There were no houses on this street. Instead, on one side was some sort of church, and on the other was a school. On the right side of the street (the school side, I believe), a car had crashed, and smoke was pouring out of it. A few people stood by dumbfounded, and at first I didn't know why. All I was focusing on at first were the people in the smoking car. They were friends of mine!
I ran to the car and began getting everyone out of it. Three of the four were dazed but otherwise in good health. The driver however was unconscious. I opened the door, unbuckled her seat belt, and carried her out of harm's way.
Then I turned and saw what everyone else was staring at. At the end of the street was a busy intersection with a traffic light. Cars were waiting at the light, lined up on the adjacent road. The woman who had caused my friends to run their car off the road was now driving away, having hijacked a US Post Office truck. She clearly intended to ram into a car waiting at the light, but what she didn't notice were two baby carriages in front of the car. I ran again, this time to try and stop her, but it was too late. Before I could do anything, she plowed into the car, t-boning it, and causing a slight explosion. One of the carriages was hurled sideways.
I ran to it and lifted the limp form of a child out and into my arms. It was dead. Then, before my eyes, it turned into a banana--unpeeled. Right now, it seems quite funny. But in the moment, I was filled with sadness. I began to weep, clutching the banana close. Soon the paramedics arrived. The mother was found and notified, and everyone was given their required care.
A few days later, but still in my dream, I was at a weird party. Again, I don't recall why, but just trust that it was weird from everything else I've described. We were eating, and someone started joking about a banana in a fruit bowl on the table. I couldn't stop myself. Without a word, I ran from the room crying; I never thought I'd recover.
I woke up then. For a moment I laid there, trying to cry. How does one find a good day in such a beginning?
Though truthfully, I look for meaning in my dreams. Today, I watched for accidents.
A good number of them are so strange, I have to write them down. Every once in a while I even turn them into stories... except last time I did that, it didn't really make sense by the end.
Last night, I had a dream that started off in a very terrifying manner. Unfortunately I am only now attempting to record what I saw, and the only things that I remember clearly took place in the middle of my dreaming.
I was running down a side street in an unrecognizable neighborhood. The only familiar aspects of the area were houses that looked similar to the ones in my own neighborhood, and the African-American kids walking down the sidewalk. For some reason I ran over to the kids, and we exchanged some sort of discourse (the content of which now escapes me). Suddenly I heard a commotion down the street and around the corner, so I left the kids and ran to the next street.
There were no houses on this street. Instead, on one side was some sort of church, and on the other was a school. On the right side of the street (the school side, I believe), a car had crashed, and smoke was pouring out of it. A few people stood by dumbfounded, and at first I didn't know why. All I was focusing on at first were the people in the smoking car. They were friends of mine!
I ran to the car and began getting everyone out of it. Three of the four were dazed but otherwise in good health. The driver however was unconscious. I opened the door, unbuckled her seat belt, and carried her out of harm's way.
Then I turned and saw what everyone else was staring at. At the end of the street was a busy intersection with a traffic light. Cars were waiting at the light, lined up on the adjacent road. The woman who had caused my friends to run their car off the road was now driving away, having hijacked a US Post Office truck. She clearly intended to ram into a car waiting at the light, but what she didn't notice were two baby carriages in front of the car. I ran again, this time to try and stop her, but it was too late. Before I could do anything, she plowed into the car, t-boning it, and causing a slight explosion. One of the carriages was hurled sideways.
I ran to it and lifted the limp form of a child out and into my arms. It was dead. Then, before my eyes, it turned into a banana--unpeeled. Right now, it seems quite funny. But in the moment, I was filled with sadness. I began to weep, clutching the banana close. Soon the paramedics arrived. The mother was found and notified, and everyone was given their required care.
A few days later, but still in my dream, I was at a weird party. Again, I don't recall why, but just trust that it was weird from everything else I've described. We were eating, and someone started joking about a banana in a fruit bowl on the table. I couldn't stop myself. Without a word, I ran from the room crying; I never thought I'd recover.
I woke up then. For a moment I laid there, trying to cry. How does one find a good day in such a beginning?
Though truthfully, I look for meaning in my dreams. Today, I watched for accidents.
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