Monday, December 12, 2011
Anyway, Christmas is drawing nigh (and Hanukkah is a week from tomorrow!), but I haven't yet had my yearly surge of Christmas joy. It's something that sort of happens in my mind where I just think, "Man, this is Christmastime. How awesome!" And seriously, Christmas is the best holiday all year. I don't care where you live or what your religious beliefs are--nothing can top it (although Hanukkah comes close; Hanukkah could be a bad-ass holiday).
I'm particularly liking that I actually have an income this Christmas (I'm on the work study program for MAC's music department--got my first paycheck last Friday!), and I can go out buying gifts for people. I've been trying to mentally compile a Christmas shopping list of things to get my family and at least a few of my friends; again, I wish there was more of me to spend money on all my friends, but oh well.
What I'm not particularly liking is that I'm having a hard time imagining what I would like for Christmas. The same thing happened for my birthday (which was ten days ago today). I just didn't really know what to ask for. Maybe I'm just content with all that I have, or I figure if I want something I should just go get it myself. I don't know.
But I did have a realization. It occurred to me as I was in the green room waiting on the elevator. My friend Spencer was talking with the other theater kids there about the kind of music he was listening to lately. I wanted to pipe in and say something before I had to leave--the elevator was being particularly slow, anyway--but that's when my mind hit a wall. I tried thinking of the newest music I was most recently into, but nothing came to mind. The last musical kick I went on was when Thrice released Major/Minor, but that was almost a month and a half ago. Since then I've been recycling the same 2000+ songs in my iTunes library, hitting the shuffle button every time I plugged into my iPod, passively listening to whatever came up.
Finally the elevator door slid open, and I stepped inside asking myself, "Why haven't I been trying to find any new music?" Well, I wrestled with the question the rest of that day, and I realized that music just hasn't been that accessible to me for the past few months. I only recently started working in the music department, and up til then my funds had been draining slowly. I couldn't really afford to spend money on anything besides food and gasoline, so I had to give up buying any music for a while; I made an exception for Thrice's latest album because they're one of my top two favorite bands. Other than that, I've been in a musical drought.
But that brings me back to Christmas, and I realized what I want is music. For me, the easiest way to access music is by downloading it through iTunes (I'm such a good little boy, getting my music legally), so although iTunes gift cards have gotten a bad rap as being the I-didn't-know-what-else-to-get-you gift, some iTunes money would make my year. I even have my eye on a few albums that would be so much easier to find in an online store than at Wal-Mart.
So yeah. I don't want this blog to sound like I'm just pouting about what I want for Christmas, so let me conclude by drawing your attention to my blog's shiny new title! Ooh, ah! Okay, so all I did was take out a few words, but I like the change. The way the title was before, I always felt like it was too wordy, too cluttered. But now it's cleaner, more efficient, and hopefully easier to remember and more likable, too.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
I just now opened Facebook a few minutes ago, and Ben wasn't online (he's no doubt in school right now), but the window was still there. I opened it to read the message, and it said, "happy early birthday."
I feel like a douche. :(
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
A few times we tried to give him away. But each time the potential new owner took him to their house, Bilbo terrorized their other pets and holed up in a corner somewhere without letting anyone go near him. That happened to two different people, the same exact story. After the second person, my dad started calling him Boomerang.
So, Bilbo pretty much became a fixture of the Morey household: the Dog Who Barked at Everyone. He would bark at me like I was a serial killer every time I came home from school, but I guess I got used to him. I'd park my car, step outside and walk halfway through our front yard when his signature woo-woo-woo-woo-woof! punched the silence, and he came running from around the back of the house to do nothing but yap at me. "Shut up, Bilbo, you see me every day!" I would say, as if he actually listened.
A few years ago (we had Bilbo for about four years, I think), he lost his voice for a week. Seriously. When he tried to bark, no sound came out but a hoarse whisper of a bark. Best week of my life.
In retrospect, that's probably when the tumor in his neck started to form. We noticed a lump on Bilbo's neck and took him to a veterinarian. Bilbo had the tumor surgically removed, and he was just fine afterward--and even though he started gaining weight, he was basically back to his rotten, bratty self.
For a few years, anyway. Recently his tumor started to reform, but the vet refused to operate on him again because he had to cut so close to Bilbo's throat last time. And rather than have Bilbo weather another winter, my mom and dad decided to put him down.
That was two weeks ago. I found out today. I hadn't even realized he was gone. I must have stopped noticing him bark a long time ago.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
But a friend of mine says Occupy Wall Street is nothing but a bunch of stupid, ungrateful kids lashing out violently as a way to demand money they don't deserve. It's nothing like the Tea Party, he says, because they had a legitimate message (legitimate because he agreed with them?), and never used violence to get it across. He spoke with authority, but... he hasn't been to an Occupation anywhere--he's only going by what he hears on the news--most likely Fox News, too.
So how does he know? If he's never seen for himself the way Occupy Wall Streeters really act, asked them what they really want, where does he get the idea he knows more than I do about them? So this is my resolve: I have to attend an Occupation rally someday, and the closest is Occupy St. Louis. I want to see what it's about. I want a firsthand account. I want to decide for myself where I stand. I don't know when I'll go, I guess I have to make plans.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Back story's over. The day after the accident, I see a Facebook status informing the general public and asking friends to pray for Tucker's health. Okay, you're concerned, but what's an atheist supposed to say? He's a close friend of mine, and I'm supposed to leave a comment along the lines of "Oh, that's sad! Best wishes!"?
I hate feeling left out when people ask for prayer requests. Isn't there a more universal (and more real) way to ask for support in the face of adversity?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
You pick up the phone and someone says, "Hello. You're home, are you?" and with just these five words you know, although you haven't heard from him for ten years, that Uncle Ed is calling.That was the first sentence of the chapter I started reading from my Creative Writing textbook today. Ed is a common name for an uncle to have (for anyone to have, really). I know that's why the author chose to use it. Not because everyone has an Uncle Ed, but because most everyone has an uncle who probably doesn't call that often, but whose mannerisms stick in our heads regardless. Ultimately, every reader should be able to relate to the sentence, whether their Uncle's name is Ed or Bo or Willie or George or what have you. And if your Uncle's name is Ed, then the connection between you and the sentence is even stronger.
However, the connection was lost on me, broken before it could reach me. I still understood the sentence's purpose, and why the author chose to use it, of course. It just wasn't the same. But hey, what are the chances of me taking this course, reading this book, two years after my Uncle Ed died?
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
You know, I hate it when my house phone rings. It seriously annoys me. I mean, it interrupts what everyone in the house is doing just so the caller can talk to one person. It completely sucks. This is what individual cell phones are for: if someone wants to talk to me, they dial my number, my phone rings, and I'm the only one who has to worry about answering it. The whole family doesn't have to scramble to answer the phone just for one person, who isn't even around the house half the time. But while everyone in my house does own a personal cell phone (even if my dad rarely uses his), we don't have any cell service at our house, leaving us stuck with the landline.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
I had a sad dream last night. I wish it had been real. Well, not the part where I got a ticket for parking handicap, but the part that led me to Chase. I took my ticket (for some reason it was a small metal placard with my misdemeanor written on it) to the motor vehicle office in Ironton to get it processed, and while I was sitting at a table waiting for my turn (it was a small two-person table, and I vaguely remember a homeless-looking guy sitting across from me, but he didn't say or do much of anything) Chase happened to walk in. He came up to me with something in his hand. It was a piece of paper, a small comic he had made, and I can't remember exactly what the comic looked like, I do remember it being very funny and very amusing. But somehow it looked familiar to me. Then I realized it was based off a rough cartoon I drew in our Statistics class our senior year of high school, one I thought I threw away or something. Chase said he found my cartoon while digging through his old drawings and liked it so much he decided to draw his own rendition of it, adding more details and his own Chase Lindley cartoon flourish. I told him his version was really good, and tried to awkwardly cover for my cartoon's poor quality by saying I had to draw it quickly and discreetly so Mrs. Spitzmiller wouldn't catch me. But Chase was still cool, he said he knew what that was like, haha.
After we both laughed at that, we both fell silent. I was still sitting in my chair at the table while Chase was standing over it. Neither of us were looking at the other, avoiding eye contact like two kids who had fought each other over something stupid and realized they need to apologize to the other, but can't figure out how. Okay, so that's a very specific analogy, but that's exactly how the moment in my dream felt to me.
Chase broke the silence first. He said something about how our cartoons were really cool when we worked together, and how much fun he remembered having when we drew them. I told him I was thinking the same thing. That's when Chase asked if I wanted to draw some cartoons with him sometime. I said yeah. And we didn't have to draw the whole time, we could play video games, make a funny video, ride bikes, whatever. And I said I'd love to. I looked up at Chase and noticed he was carrying something else under the papers. I was shocked when I saw my favorite sock hat, the dark gray one with two black bands around it, a fat one and a thin one; I had lost it a long time ago and thought I'd never see it again. Chase told me he found it and thought I might be looking for it. I told him I was glad to have it back.
I remember Chase and I eventually leaving the motor vehicle office, but the rest of the dream gets kind of fuzzy after that. It didn't relate much to my encounter with Chase, anyway. When I woke up and realized the whole thing was a dream, I felt sorrow wash over me. I really wish that dream had been real, even the parking ticket part. I've known for a long time that I miss talking to Chase, and being close friends with him like were our senior year. After we graduated, our relationship somehow came to be defined by arguments on Twitter and Facebook. Reflecting on those arguments, I realized they mostly centered around our increasingly diverging ideologies--me, a growing atheist and Chase, a growing Christian--and they were mostly instigated by me. In retrospect, it's not hard for me to see that debates about the existence of God and the legitimacy of evolution were stupid and not worth the bad blood between us now.
I miss Chase. I miss the good times we had our senior year. To me, the dream I had last night is a representation of my longing for that friendship. I guess I could just text him or something. Kind of afraid of how awkward it might be. Sigh... whatever.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
To those who truly understand
that we as people are the same,
And no matter what god dealt our hands,
we all are players in this game,
Well I just want
to let you know
That you don't have
to bleed for those
Who light up fires for a war
against all those whom they deplore.
Diversity is not criminality.
Unity is what we really need,
So take your hate and throw it away!
Who do you claim to be?
Where do you claim to stand?
Is it consistent with the damage you have wrought?
Currently, the song is title-less. I can't remember exactly when I started writing it, and I'm not entirely sure what the side notes in my notebook were getting at, haha. But, it sounds like I was making a statement about those who prefer opposition and confrontation rather than solidarity, so I'll play with these lyrics and try to come up with something good for you readers sometime soon.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Have I not felt your disdain for me?
Saturday, February 5, 2011
I'm making an attempt at Valentine's Day this year, so I won't have to spend it alone. There is a girl I like, a girl I might have a chance with (nobody reading this has ever met her, and you wouldn't recognize the name if I used it). I have been texting her lately, and she seems at least a little interested in me. There is a slight problem, though. She is still in high school (attending Aradia Valley--told you all you wouldn't know her), so the only way I can really get to see her is if I attend her church. Which I have done several times (and plan on doing tomorrow). I am even a member of her church's youth drama team. She does not know I am an atheist.
Last December she asked me if I could help her church's drama team do a Christmas performance. I hesitated, not wanting to get involved in church, but I agreed to help. Neglecting to mention I do not believe in God. This was an opportunity to get closer to her--why would I go and ruin it? Besides, how could I have told her?
I know it's not exactly honorable to infiltrate a church so I can woo one its members. I know that my (dis)beliefs could sabotage a relationship with this girl. I know it makes me a scoundrel. But this is a shot at love! If I continue pondering the morality of the situation, the opportunity to act on it will slip by. I know it's wrong, but I'm sick of backing down on the life I should be living.
Monday, January 24, 2011
I started this morning with an unfinished paper for my Comp II class. The assignment was to write a 1-2 page essay with each body paragraph beginning with the words "Beauty is..." I came to school today prepared to skip American History this morning so I could have it finished by 2:00 (which is when my Comp II class starts). Well, instead of skipping American History, I attended class and finished the paper during the hour I usually spend getting lunch. 'Cause I'm just a regular Superman like that. Anyway, I felt like sharing the stupid thing since it was so hard to write, so here it is. Notice that I (un)intentionally and (un)creatively left it untitled.
What makes a person beautiful? Is it physical characteristics—blonde hair, blue eyes, slim figure, and a well-formed face? Obviously these answers differ from person to person. Not all people find the same features attractive. And in any case, how fair is it to judge a person’s beauty solely on their looks? Doing so only demotes the concept to that age-old taunt, “Beauty is only skin-deep.” Rather, people exhibit beauty in ways that transcend outward appearances.
Beauty is more than physical appeal. It is not what magazines sell as beautiful. It cannot be found in the right products with the right brand names, purchased at the right stores. Beauty is not the girls buying into the latest trends, believing they can find their own beauty by imitating the cover girls of fashion magazines, slaving to become what pop culture deems beautiful. That is tragedy. Beauty is the girl who cancels all her subscriptions to fashion magazines when she realizes she does not need to resemble a super model to feel good about herself.
Beauty is in the ways people comfort each other. It is the glow of warmth felt by the cancer patient as her family holds her hand, reminding her they will never stop loving her, whether she makes it through the chemotherapy or not. It is the sense of togetherness felt at her funeral, inspired by the gathering of all the lives she ever left a mark on. It is the smile worn by the couple admiring their first child, and the smile worn again as they admire their first grandchild.
All people are capable of beauty. It may not manifest itself in the ways people anticipate, but not everyone gets to model for trendy magazines, and nor does anyone deserve to spend their youth in front of a camera. Such is the beauty that withers away with age, dimming slowly like a fire burning out. True beauty—the beauty of love between different lives—is what makes a person beautiful, and it never fades to black.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
With beauty so mysterious
I wish to set you free—
And I'll settle not for less
The cage that schisms you and me,
Do I hold its golden key?
Or must you be in pain
As I look on, helplessly?
For I can break the distance chain
That keeps us both apart,
That binds you to your barren plain
So weep not o'er your broken heart
It will be mended once we start
To share our loneliness
And love together, heart to heart
I actually wrote this a while back. It was sitting in my drafts of Facebook notes (did any of you recognize the font?) for quite a while, thought I'd dust off the cobwebs and finally publish it.