Breathed In, Breathed Out...

There is a strange sort of peace floating over everything. I swear it's almost visible. Cleared the dissonance, and I can move on. There was much less to deal with than originally expected, but it is good now that it's done, nonetheless. Now as I view the restructuring (or destructuring?) of my life, it seems the possibilities are endless. It was good advice.

On the Eve

Tomorrow cannot come soon enough. Nor can it be far enough away. There is fear and anxiety, yet there is also anticipation. There will be a change tomorrow, and I am determined it shall be for the better. For the best of all concerned. It may not seem apparent at first, but I know inside that it is the inevitable answer, that it was meant to be this way. There is a grinding against the natural grain and it needs to be fixed. I only pray my action is soon enough and strong enough to create the required effect and put to right everything that has gone askew. Calculations and theories can only go so far before you must abandon them in the speed of events, and replace them with gut reactions and the leading of your heart. This particular situation involved no calculations or theories, but I thought I may as well be thorough in my statement.
Tomorrow is my nemesis, but it will hopefully be a new beginning by the time it has passed.  

Like Jimmy Says It

There has been much happening lately, and not enough time or creativity to write it down, or use it metaphorically to type into a post. I feel like I don't have enough time to think when an event hits me, and I'm still trying to react or counterbalance it, or figure it into an equation when the next one comes rolling in. Rather like those huge long sets when the spring swell hits, and you get stuck in the whitewater.

Basically, I'm trying to take everything with a grain of salt and just breathe. Watching life flick by is rather interesting when it's going too fast to make major course changes. It is like Jimmy Buffett says in that one song, "Breathe in, breathe out, move on..." Precisely like that, it's a nice feeling. Things will settle out, and it'll be good. It's incredibly good at the moment; I've been pleasantly surprised.

Introspective People Watching

It's a strange sort of day
An odd day to sit on a cold bench
But the weather is not exactly cold
And people's ant-like lives
Are so infinitely interesting to watch.

Preoccupied, a man walks by
Coffee in hand, with suit and tie
A girl and boy in dialogue
But she looks down
And he talks to the fog.

It's on the hour
The crowd streams past
Individuals, hopelessly disconnected
You may be important in your virtual world
But from 100 feet up you are an ant.

What if a piano fell from the sky
Or a hole sunk into the earth
Well it wouldn't matter if it were your neighbor
But that's just another wonder of our evolving culture.

From Belle & Sebastian

You're my picture on the wall
You're my vision in the hall
You're the one I'm talking to
When I get in from my work
You are my girl, and you don't even know it
I am living out the life of a poet
I am the jester in the ancient court
You're the funny little frog in my throat

I had a conversation with you at night
It's a little one sided but that's all right
I tell you in the kitchen about my day
You sit on the bed in the dark, changing places
With the ghost that was there before you came
You've come to save my life again

Ninety-one

I'm not generally a dark person. I like being introspective, but I don't usually lose hope in life. However, I've always had an interest in music that gravitates towards that view. People say it affects you eventually and I wonder if that is true. In some ways, it is the most honest type of music in relation to humanity. It reflects our suffering, our anger, our imperfections... It outlines our need for something greater than ourselves.

As an ending aside, distorted cello is the bomb.

Music

Music is a language. It crosses the voids between cultures, it fills the gaps between words, it melts the ice of stark civility. It does not define or explain emotion - it becomes emotion, expressing the sentiments of the soul.

Advice In Passing ~

To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen, who play with their boats at sea - "cruising," it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot or will not fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

"I've always wanted to sail to the South Seas, but I can't afford it." What these men can't afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of "security." And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine - and before we know it our lives are gone.

What does a man need - really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in - and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all - in the material sense. And we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?

~Sterling Hayden

Issues Rising

Today was interesting.

The Liszt bicentennial concert happened. It was in honor of a man who donated a concert piano to the music department last month. He loved the piano. He died two weeks ago. He left two kids who are in high school.

This evening I watched a film called Patagonia Rising. It documents how a water corporation owned by foreign investors is trying to build hydroelectric dams across the two major rivers of Patagonia, Chile. It would displace thousands of farmers who have lived along the river banks for years, flood their farmlands and doubtless have a large impact on the local flora and fauna. The even bigger issue with it is that it wouldn't produce half as much energy as other sustainable options like solar panels or windmills.

The answers? I certainly don't know. Personally, I'd prioritize human injustices over environmental ones. Often they are interconnected, but honestly when it comes to keeping emaciated children from dying or saving a plot of rainforest trees there is absolutely no question in my mind. There is a balance of man and nature somewhere, but it hasn't been discovered yet. I think there are too many of our skewed desires on the planet for it to work, too many politics, nuts and bolts, too many people who don't give value to a soul... And really, if you don't have a soul, what do you have?

Hunger only for a taste of justice
Hunger only for a word of truth
'Cause all that you have
Is your soul.

Time winds on...

Crank, crank, crank...

I am extremely grateful to Rimsky-Korsakov for orchestrating many works by other Russian composers that would otherwise fall beyond the edge of gnarly and well into the realm of insanity. That being said, there is still much chromaticism to conquer... onward my brave stragglers of the community orchestra, that notable band...

Sarcasm seems to be reigning supreme this weekend. As well as bad humor.

"I used to work at a fire hydrant factory. It was terrible. You couldn't park anywhere near the place."

 "My dog has no nose." 
       -"Oh really? How does he smell?"
"Awful!"

"I never could believe in Santa Claus, because no white dude would ever go near my neighborhood after dark."

"Cruisers' plans are carved in Jell-O."

"It's hard to be religious when certain people are never incinerated by bolts of lightning."

A Story Waiting to be Written

I usually am inspired to express myself in writing, but lately I've been using other mediums. Anyhow.

Dropped the business class! I feel a little pressure relieved... This thing should be totally doable now. "Should" being the operative word here. I'd really like to do Nano again this year, so we'll see how doable that turns out to be. I even have an idea if I do Nano.

This box of books ended up in the Word Shop. That wasn't the remarkable thing; there are multitudes of boxes that end up in the shop in any given month. There was a small book lying amongst a bunch of other old musty books, and Alliee set it in front of me as she rooted through the box. The book had a navy cover with a yellow poppy on the front. It was a book of poems in German about California. The first page was autographed by the author and looked like it had originally been given to a friend. The poems had been written between 1898 and 1906 and were organized according to subject - Yosemite, Love Songs, Nature Songs... As I thumbed through the timeworn pages regretting my poor recollection of college German, a photograph fell out. It was a small one, apparently taken with a Brownie camera. There were 3 men in the photo with a dog. After a detailed discussion with Justin about the many small things we picked out in the photo, we decided it was probably taken in the 1930's. Another thing that was hidden in the book was a pressed carnation. Most intriguing.

The Last 12 Hours

Tomorrow the old things start again. Books, pencils, whiteboards, keyboards, skeptical professors taking role and combating waitlist problems... I like playing with the idea that this will be my last semester. I feel like there is only so much of this I can take before I implode. I like using my brain and analyzing things, but now I've realized that bending energy to school alone is completely futile. In the end it's just a scrap of paper you can push at people when you're begging on your knees for a job. Unless coupled with real experiences and creativity, schooling is hard to use by itself. But anyways...

Looking back, I can honestly say this was a good summer. Things were accomplished, I did travel a little, I made some new friends, some amazing experiences were had... Yeah, a success. I also worked a reasonable amount. Life without school was quite awesome indeed. I could definitely live without it now.

Ok, one thing I am looking forward to in school is Theory III. I can't be completely down on school, because I'm taking my last theory class with Fred. It's apparently the hardest, and there is much analyzing, but it is going to be great. More opportunities to witness Inevitability and Simultaneity in action!

A Piece of Blue Sky...

It's clouded back over today. Not really what I wanted, but I suppose I can deal with it. I'm going to start working on German again. I don't know exactly why, I'd just hate to lose it all. The last few days it started uncovering itself in my mind and I'd try to remember the words and phrases for things. I forgot the word for Table - can't believe that- Der Tisch...

New-to-me cd of Yiruma, First Love. I like his creativity, but I almost wish he'd follow through with the Inevitability and let the ideas develop a little more. No need for new material, but just let the Inevitability work itself out and escape near-repetition. Unfortunately, most of the jacket is in Korean... one of the few parts in English is a poem he wrote:

When the love falls in your dream,
the time flows like a river in you.
When you're in love,
that is the time when the night falls.
But I wish you wait until the morning comes.
I've finally found you.

I was having this discussion of sorts with a friend about the importance of romance in a love story. It would be an interesting love story that had no romance in it, but wouldn't it be rather dry? It would just be so much work. Which was his point. I can see how that would be useful, but how is it realistic? True, our imaginations conjure up more romance than there actually is, but how could a love story exist without it? Every beautiful action taken in love is how it makes itself known. Those are the things you notice, and then you realize it's presence and it is an exquisite moment. It's true I am a romantic, so I suppose I should stop arguing and realize that the Romantic era is technically past with impressionism and and huge emotional paintings. Somehow the ideas still live on, though. With certain individuals who can't reconcile themselves to this age of technological advancement...   

The Enchanting Pacific

I had not been out on the bay in so long. It was fantastic. Heading back into the harbor, the ocean was the most intriguing purple color... it always amazes me how it changes while the sun sets. As you grow up, your perspectives change and you get new dreams and ideas about what you want to do with your life, but when it really comes down to it I think your heart's original intentions come back. There's so much out there, and so many chances to take a fork in the road, but sometimes there's this pull that tells you where you were meant to be.

Tuesday evening was extremely encouraging, and it reminded me "oh yeah, I can write." Sometimes I just dump whatever happens to be on my mind into this page of cyberspace, and don't even think about it. Some of it is good, and a lot of it belongs in the recycle bin. Now that I actually have time, it wouldn't be a bad idea to get back into the habit of writing...

This was my scribble during the 10minute prompt. I honestly have no idea where the scene came from or the characters, for that matter. The prompts were "Despite" and "Trust."

    "Despite the fact that I trust you, I'm still leaving."
    She looked into his eyes as she said this, and saw a piece of his soul shatter. Utter despair replaced his previous look of hopefulness, and he leaned against a post on the station as he caught his breath. He looked at the large station clock. It was 5:53.
     "But what about the commission they offered you? It would only take a couple weeks."
     She lifted her delicate fingers to her veil and laughed. "Like I would want to spend 2 weeks painting that family. Their faces have no symmetry. It's 1907, I have many better opportunities awaiting me in New York."
     There was a quiet confidence in the way she daintily lifted her bag to the train steward and raised her skirts to board the 2nd class car. But she turned around once, the red curls along her temples swished in the light wind. The sun was setting, and he once again was looking hopeful. It was 6 o'clock.
    "Will I see you again?" he asked.
     "Goodbye."

And yes, I invented the phrase "she saw a piece of his soul shatter." It was perhaps the best thing I got out of the whole deal. But it is still a nugget. There are some things I really like about it, and others I absolutely hate. It was completely spontaneous, I've never written about 1907 or had any ideas to. Perhaps someday it'll be useful for something.Till then it will float about in my subconscious ocean of unorganized imaginations.

The Other Side of the Hill

It's interesting going out of town for business trips, or "schooling" trips, as the case may be. I'm liking living in a new place with new things to do and a different style to try out, but I wish the workaholic mindset would go away. At least I know I'm doing my best to pass, though.

It's funny, things are faster down south, and more spread apart, and yet it doesn't take longer to get anywhere. Traffic is a given, but it's not stressful. It seems one could never get bored exploring the endless streets and suburbs, little hideaways you never knew existed. And obviously, the weather is much warmer.

New accquaintances always put an interesting spin on one's psychology. You realize patterns of thinking you didn't know you had; some good, some bad, and some that are just different. Some things stay the same, others move on. Thoughts still course through my mind... I don't believe dreams ever leave you completely.

Not Too Shabby

Andrew Del Monte is one of my newest favourite composers, and it's nearly impossible to find any of his works online because he composes mostly for his high school choir. Happily, however, a friend from chorale uploaded our performances of two of his fabulous compositions. Surprisingly, we did a pretty clean job of it, if I may say so. Please listen and discover:

Il Mio Cuore and Homeward Bound by Andrew Del Monte

The Books Are In...

I left school far behind as I walked out of my logic final about three weeks ago. But here I am, hitting the books yet again in midsummer. Life is ironic that way. I kind of wanted to wait a bit before taking the plunge to attempt the sixpack license, but knowing school starts the last day of August didn't leave me much time to weigh pros and cons. However, it's different when you're studying something related to your passion, something that goes beyond a requirement or a letter grade. I wish the rest of school was that way. More points scored for the School of Life, ahem....

Saw a beautiful boat today. She'd be a really nice "The boat" but her pricetag is far far beyond me. If I managed to make it big sometime in the future then I would definitely think about it. I think she'll be gone long before then. And its too much footage for me to tackle by myself at this point. Always good to keep the ideas flowing though, you never know where the future will spin your path.

One Particular Journey

The full feeling of summer has been breaking through this week, and it's a little strange but in a good way. It's the first June in four years that I haven't been summer staffing, and it feels new to have the next few months stretching before me and have to figure out what I'm going to do with it all. Quite wonderful, actually.

Yesterday we hiked about twenty-two miles through the park to a waterfall and back. As we got closer, we could hear the creek rushing, and the terrain changed and we were walking through these meadowish areas of clover and horsetails all covered by ancient redwood trees. It had a more open feel to it than just the closed redwood forest down at the entrance of the park. There was alot of anticipation right before we hit the waterfall as we scrambled up the creek. The waterfall itself was not that impressive. We thought we had got to the wrong one, and traveled further up the creek first, trying to see if there was a bigger one further up the canyon. To be honest, it was quite a nice waterfall, coming into the creek at a ninety-degree angle and surrounded by old pieces of an ancient railroad.

It reminded me of something that happened in theory class this past semester when we were studying preludes. We were trying to figure out the true return to the home key, and Fred was getting a little frustrated because we weren't seeing the obvious. The smart alec kid next to me said, "It's about the journey, Fred, it's about the journey." One of the more humorous parts of class I remember. Sometimes that statement has a lot of truth to it. 

A Change in the Wind

The past six months I've come to realize that virtually everything is perspective. I'm not sure how to explain it, but something to the effect of "one man's hell is another man's heaven." I suppose attitude has something to do with it certainly, but some situations can either be great or terrible depending on your perspective and what you want out of life. Some of us are so wrapped up in this need for security that we lose sight of all the experiences we could be having when we're working to keep that security. And then others of us are so far the other way that we stop trying to plan for the future. There has to be a fine medium in there somewhere, but where and how do you grasp it?

I just started Voyaging Southward from the Strait of Magellan by Rockwell Kent, which is proving quite interesting. He includes this bit by Bayard Boyesen after the introduction, rather intriguing:

Over the Ultimate

Who asks when
We that have done with doing and the blood-red tides of men
    Shall hold fast
    Ourselves at last?
Who cares when?

We that have dived o'er the morning and the thither sides of night,
What delight?
    Should we have your traces,
    Times and places -
What delight?

Ye that are day-things,
    Reckoners of north and south,
       Of great things ruinous;
      What should ye know of us,
Us that have stars for our playthings,
    Yea, stars that browse on our mouth?

What life saith,
    Shall we care,
We that have juttied through death
    And despair?

We that have joked with the mountain gales
    And sent them rattling home,
We that have held the morning's sails
    O'er the foam?
    Yet laughing at sails and mornings, all things that are still or roam?

What life saith
    Of its strife,
    Shall we care?
We that have juttied through death
    And despair,
  Yea, and life!
      Shall we care?
      Of what shall we care?

A Current Crisis

After 3weeks of expert procrastination, I've finally decided to do my persuasive speech on auditing the Federal Reserve. The main reason was that I already have a research paper from last semester about it, but also because people seem to be so uninformed. This morning, while conducting some up-to-date research (a surprising amount of things change in just 5 months) I found an article explaining what was discovered when the newspaper won out in the Bloomberg vs Federal Reserve lawsuit last year. Basically, the Fed bailed out foreign banks in Libya. And now we've invaded Libya. Interesting turn of events. Also interesting how history repeats itself.

The Fed posted a defense on their blog, Liberty Street (there's a link on the site I'm linking to this post) and most of it was technical garble. But the basic idea I got out of it was that they bailed out Libya because otherwise other world currencies such as the Euro would crash. Ok guys, nice job prolonging the inevitable I guess. It just makes it so much clearer that the American dollar truly is the "blood donor" in every case where a country's currency fails, and then a war comes along. The English pound would have been long gone after the World Wars if it weren't for the Fed.

Sorry for going political, but this is too important not to post about. Read about the new bill for auditing the Fed, known as the Federal Reserve Transparency Act - it takes less than 5 minutes to read - Audit the Fed!
Also, this is the link for the article I'm referring to that covers the bailout: The Centerlane he cites everything.

For My Friends

This is old, but it's most likely one of the best bits I've ever written. After saying goodbye-for-now to yet another incredible cruiser friend back in 2008, I was inspired to write this one, For My Friends. I'll let it speak for itself.

Fair winds
And a following sea,
That's always the parting
For you and me
We've been in port
Now it's time to leave
Our days were short
Spent accordingly

Now I find
It's much too soon
I'd stowed my gear
Before I'd met you
I came to know
Our paths had crossed
And they would go
Just as the past

Maybe a letter
Perhaps a memory
Would let me remember
These days gone by
You went your way
I went mine
I'll look out for you
In the corner of my eye

That part of me gone
I look back to see
The land slowly fading from view
And the only thing
That's been left to me
Is our laughter
Fading to blue.

Dreams

I don't get the impact of women's choirs. Men's choirs are powerful and deep in tone, children's choirs are sweet and innocent, boy's choirs are sonorous and emotionally moving. But women's choirs? The deep tone that is meant to reside in the bassline is lost in the difficult range of the alto voice; the notes below middle C do not have the resonance they might if they were sung by a tenor.

Besides my initial dislike of the blend of voices in a women's choir, the text of this particular piece, The Beauty of Your Dreams, is decidedly lacking. It's extracted from a single quote, which perhaps isn't the exact problem. The song builds in tonal depth as phrases are repeated, in what I think is generally called a more pointillistic approach. But the actual text does not build in depth, and it fails to inspire me. It talks about believing in your dreams, casting out fear, and facing the unknown. Unfortunately it doesn't explain how to cast out fear or where that strength eminates from. What if your dreams are not philanthropic? What if your dreams are ugly? Of course the philosophical perspective of extreme humanism it comes from is rather radical (that would be dictionary-definition of 'radical,' not slang for 'cool'). I mean, for this text to be inspiring you'd have to believe we all have wonderful dreams to create a better society for all humanity, that we have minimal evil intentions and are not swayed by greed or lust, and apparently we have super powers for facing fear and conquering the unknown. It's just not realistic enough to pull your heart strings or strike a chord with the soul.

Maybe she's talking not about visionary dreams, but literal dreams! Except there are very few literal dreams I would ever want to believe in, or hope to come true. I rarely remember my dreams, but this week I haven't slept without them, or actually remembering them that is. They're all very frustrating, though. Some of my worst were being able to understand English, but only thinking and talking in German, and more recently searching for something or someone and I didn't know what it was and I couldn't stop till I found it or them, and it just went on forever. Never did figure out what or who I was looking for. That's a tangent, it really has nothing to do with the song...

I keep coming back to Robert Burns, and the way his writing touches everyone. If you get past the Scottish slang, he is the everyday man's man. He writes about falling, about picking ourselves up to struggle on with the human life, loving with the depths of our being, death and taxes. In essence he explains following your dreams, and the human battle for existence. For indeed, isn't existence the simplest of dreams? He is a different pot of ink altogether, but that is the kind of dream, the facing of fears and the unknown, the beautiful dreams that relate to every man. Those are dreams that I do believe are beautiful, and are actually worth believing in.

Stats

Beethoven was genius. Nothing is randomly thrown together; it's all thought out beforehand. He doesn't include something because it was popular, there's so much more to his process than that. He is "an unrestrained personality" according to Guerter. That doesn't denote alot of mystery to his process or his message.

If you're going to play some Irish songs, don't bring your fancy schmancy classical bowing and nonrhythmical accompaniment ideas - forget all that and fiddle like a peasant! Please, it would sound SO much better and stylistic.

Congratulations to Ukraine, Slovenia, Germany and the UK for being my top viewers after the US. And the Android users, who make up 11% of the systems used to view this blog. Haha

Molto Vivace Allegretto

I've learned some interesting things in psychology, many of them quite useful. One I've been thinking about lately has been a concept on the way we perceive human actions. If someone does something, you will view it differently than if you yourself were doing the exact same thing. Known as the Fundamental Attributes Error, this is when you take one action of someone else and you attribute it to their everyday nature (Dispositional Attribution) (normally this is something you assume for negative actions, like bad driving). However, whenever you commit an error yourself, you view it with Situational Attribution - it was the situation that caused your behavior, and not part of your personality. Thus, we call people idiots when they turn in front of us on the street or do other aggravating things, but when we do something we're not idiots. We don't act like that everyday, do we?

Next time I have an energy drink I need to time it better. It most definitely got me through the last rehearsal, but now I'm wondering how far into the wee hours it will take me...

I Love You

Somebody once told me I shouldn't say "I love you" to anyone unless I knew I was going to marry them. It doesn't seem like such a bad idea at first. But since then I've realised it doesn't make much sense at all. First, there is the definition of love:

Love is patient, and is kind; Love does not envy, it does not parade itself, it is not puffed up; Does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil; Rejoices not in inequity, but rejoices in the truth; Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13)

Then we are commanded to love our neighbors and our brethren, and our enemies. Which is basically everyone we know, in generality. So if you're trying to love someone, why wouldn't you want to tell them at some point, especially if you actually care about them? Oh, well you say 'romantic love' is different. But is it? If you're referring to the world's interpretation of "love," it doesn't make sense to try and preserve something that is already corrupt and meaningless. So we are talking about the Christ-like love that actually means something, that we are called to do. I would never hold that back from anyone; what is the benefit? It seems almost selfish. I think I should say "I love you" while I can, because you never know which day may be their last.

How come they named a flower after him?...

The speed of technology really doesn't solve all the problems of communication. The same issues and frustrations are still there to be dealt with, and in some cases they are actually heightened. Its interesting, my friend mentioned that technology really in a way is simply clearing the path toward narcissism as a culture. Scary to think about, but all the elements are there. Interesting how history repeats itself...

Monday!

I honestly don't get the point of teenagers with minimal singing talent exposing themselves to the world's ears with the help of companies using synth machines. Besides money... But even from a financial perspective, wouldn't it be worth more to find someone who really has some talent in singing and songwriting? Or at least if you find a kid you like, give them some vocal lessons and some initiative for improvement. If they have a good stage personality (obviously we can't overlook the performance factor, which appears the largest) that's excellent, but you need someone who cares about the artistic and musical sense. What kind of impression do you think you're making on the younger generation?! Look at the crap they will consider to be "good music" just because it made it to MTV.

I think Pablo Cassalls is an amazing example of a prudent musician who made it to fame - because he was a good musician. He studied the Bach cello preludes for 15years before he even performed them for anyone. Our younger stars wouldn't have to go to that extreme, but really think what a difference it would make if they actually spent time gaining musicianship skills and really immersing themselves in the material. Even if it's pop - I don't care what genre it is - they need to take the time, really study it, know it backwards and forwards. Really understand it. Then I might have some respect for them. They may go through fire because they're famous, but that isn't any sort of excuse for cheap music.

Floating Papers...

Some poems I found from a while back. A few are decent. Most of them are either nonsense or plain misery. These are the better ones. I think the last one is the most poetic. The first one contains a reworded quote from Jon.

August 2009.
Don't you wish time would stop
So we could think and say
The things we really mean
Instead we live a puzzle
500 bits missing
Fill in the blanks with smiles
Tomorrow will be worse
Walking along the line
Don't look over the edge
Fate will take you all over
And bring you home in the end
Don't try to understand me
I guess you all the time
But perhaps it ain't you
Just the derangement of my mind.

September 2009.
Surrounded by these land sharks
I'm not a little surprised
How could this happen anyway
I can barely summarize
The face that I ain't in New Bedford
Nor shippin' out to sea
That I'm stayin' here in NorCal
It's sure dumbfounded me
But of course the saying's always been
"Jack Tar's a fool ashore"
And so I'll sail back out again
Where they'll be a problem no more.

October 2009.
Coffee warms my heart and soul
As I gaze through a misted windowpane
The streets are drenched in Pacific fog
Rolling from the ridge beyond.
Perhaps it's traveled from Hawai'i
Tahiti, Russia, or Japan
Now blanketing me with its presence
A thousand miles from home.
Is this the constant weather in England
I wonder as I watch
I've never been, so I wouldn't know,
Only what I've read in the books.
Then first it starts as just a dribble
That turns to a plop, then a pound
And my mind is off to Washington
As the rain keeps falling down.

March 2010.
Goodbye, the hardest word to say
Avoided until the end
Unhappy eyes that look away
Heart strings feeling a wrench.
Talk and laugh the minutes away
It's bound to come at last
Freely flowing, the unimportant
Cover the stillness in the air.
Until it's dropped quietly
Like a pin upon the tile
Could that little click mean so much?
Faces drop like birds in fall
The last syllable gone to the wind
One quick look, then gone forever
That's how our lives are spent.

Have you ever shot a man before? -No. Have you ever held a gun before? -No. What do you do for a living? -I'm a hairstylist. chk-chk.

I have not watched a more pointless movie in a long time. I can't remember one that was more random. It was about Brooklyn mobsters, a dude hairstylist, a hot chick, and a kangaroo wearing a red jacket with $50grand in the pocket. Set in the outback of Australia. Told you it was random. There were some funny lines, I'll admit ("This is the most romantic moment of my life. *splash* And now it's over.") and the kangaroo was awesome (actually the only awesome part of the movie), but overall it was the biggest waste of time in at least the past year. Afterward I modified that Relient K song, Crayons Can Melt on Us for All I Care... "I. Just wasted. 90minutes of your Life."

Gave in to the coffee this morning. How can you say no to espresso roast?... But I'm going to make up for those 90 wasted minutes last night and work on the Fauré Requiem. Singing in Latin is an interesting experience. Especially when you really don't understand it, and you hope the English translation underneath is somewhat accurate.

Väsen is coming to town Wednesday, March 16th! Amazing trad band from Sweden, performing at the Kuumbwa Jazz Center. Tickets available here. Might have to skip rehearsal for that one.

Twitbook, MyFace, or Chitter...

Technology is incredible. What's more incredible is how much we have come to rely on it. Social networking, GPS, internet, cellphones... What will people think 100years from now? Or even 2,000?... During my communications with the faculty at the Maritime Academy, I was told that I would probably be in one of the last classes for celestial navigation. That is completely mindblowing to think about. They're planning to throw an over 1000year old tradition out the window because of technology. Not only a tradition, a science. A science that's been around almost as long as the earth. Not looking forward to old age, except being able to say "I told you so." Now back in 2010, when they used to teach navigation by the stars, that was before they realized we were about to lose all satellite-based communication from that solar flare... Of course at that point, the heavens might have changed so much that we will need new calculations and ways of using the stars, and all this other stuff won't be any use. Who knows what's going to happen, but I still think they're taking a huge step of faith considering GPS and all that hasn't been around that long, and the sextant & chronometer have.

A lot of weird flashbacks lately have caught me in outer space. But while endeavoring to live with as few regrets as possible, things have been going pretty well. I think either way things'll work out for an interesting future. The hard part is wanting to do the opposite of what certain people tell me, but then when someone I respect tells me the same thing it puts me back in the logical position. Hah. Logic. I'm starting to think it's a myth.

Totally poned the Dmajor Prelude. Oh yeah.

Some Lessons Learned

As of today:
1. Don't stay up till 2am with an 8am class that morning.
1a. Especially if you need to give a speech in that class.
1b. Especially if that speech is not prepared.

2. Don't assume you can make up the aforesaid speech.
2a. No matter how short it is.
2b. Even if you don't care, and it's on something you know.

3. Don't leave Fred's theory homework till the last minute.
3a. EVER.
3b. Even if you think you understand it.
3c. Especially if it's Bach.

4. Practice Cheryl's assignments next time.
4a. Because I know I'm going to regret not doing it tomorrow.

5. Don't ever waste a 4day weekend like that.
5a. EVER. AGAIN.

I was going to put "stop procrastinating" as #6, but that is pretty much impossible. Never going to learn that one. Have to love my logic teacher, though. It's midweek, and the homework on the board said, "Don't do any logic AT ALL." The worst mornings still have perks.

Celestial Navigation & the End of the World

Today I was informed about many spectacular things I never imagined could be floating out there. The end of 2011 is the end of the world in the Mayan calendar. 2012 is apparently the year we reach a "solar maxim" when the sun puts out an enormous amount of solar flares containing electromagnetic radiation, which apparently will destroy most of our satellites, and possible fry our electrical grid, which may take years afterwards to reconstruct so it works again. Needless to say, we will lose all internet, cell phone, and basically any electronic form of communication. We will be informed 6minutes before it hits by a satellite put up specifically for that purpose. Amazing theory. Can't wait to see if it happens.

First navigation class. I realized afterwards that I probably went way too fast with the concepts. Not many questions, and haphazard lame answers to the few that were asked... Please remind me I never want to be a professional teacher.

Page 3 of Goltermann is coming along, I'm so happy to be on to the beautiful theme in Bminor, it's so sonorous compared to the lively 1st and 2nd themes. Like something you want to sing whenever you see something beautiful. It's like a flower opening, a ripe apple falling to the grass, the sail filling with wind on a downwind course, the perfect ride on a fantastic wave, the unconditional love of the eternal Father.

A Beginning, a Muddle, and an End

That is the name of a book about writing (books), which was talked about at First Tuesday. Nice to be back, and doing some creative writing. I really think we need to work on our process for choosing prompts, we didn't like any of the suggested ones so we ended up with two that weren't objected to... hah. Writers.
Prompts: "Goody" and "Blur(ry)." Here's what I scrawled.

It was a dark and stormy night. Oh wait, it wasn't. On a lonesome island in the Caribbean, it was anything but "dark and stormy." A tall bearded man sat under a palm tree, thinking out loud to himself.
"Hmm, fiction, fact, or exaggerated history? I could write about the moron under the only other palm tree on the other side of the island... But I've only got this one slab of rock to carve on, and a history of his stupidities would fill an encyclopedia."
The memory came to him in a blur - the reason the 2 marooned sailors on a godforsaken strip of sand in the wopwops [Australian slang for "the middle of nowhere"] would be forever enemies.
It was a hot day, and they were arguing over whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday [it was actually Saturday] when this box had washed up on shore. It was an old worn wooden cask, with printing in bold black letters that spelled out, "GOODIES." They proceeded to argue over what language it was, because nobody would be stupid enough to just write "goodies" on a crate that would end up floating in the Caribbean. The argument raged on while they scrounged for shells to pry the box open with...

I actually like it, kinda reminds me of a Garry Larson cartoon. The one where the one guy finds a crate with an ACME Sand Blaster, and is looking sinisterly over at the other guy, who is happily building a sand castle... Anyways, this scrap of creativity interests me enough to want to extend it, maybe even make it into a story (!), what an idea. My only problem is that currently I can't decide on what exactly should be in the box. It can't be empty, I already thought about that... Well I suppose technically it could, but then I'd have to think about some other way to bring a big catastrophe about. Maybe let the little grey cells work on that one...