Confessions and Comments about Friendship (and lack thereof)

1. At this point in my life, I am not sure if I have any good friends.
2. But how do I know what a good friend is anymore? Every good friend I’ve had, I’ve grown up with, and known since early childhood. The very definition has changed for me — any potential good friends I might make now must listen to my story to understand me. The good friends I used to have lived my story with me.
3. Following from that, I haven’t had to “tell my story” or “share about my life” with friends before, as they’ve lived it with me. I have realized I’m not very comfortable at all about sharing about myself, and am not sure of the right ways to do it.
4. Also, having known the same people all my life, it seems that I’ve never learned how to make friends, and that my social skills in that area are especially lacking.
5. Having spent most of the days of my youth participating in different school activities with my good friends (which usually ran from 7:00 am to 9:00 pm), I have never learned what kind of effort needs to be put forth outside of classes to maintain a friendship, like telephone calls? and hanging out?
6. It seems the more I try not to be the kind of friend someone might not like (ie: the annoying tagalong, the quiet creeper, the awkward story-teller) the more I start acting like it.
7. I am married. That makes finding friends exponentially harder, trust me.
8. My wife doesn’t seem to share the same longing for social interaction.
9. It seems to me that everyone in a social setting is either normal and aware of others’ awkwardness, or awkward and completely unaware of it. Why the Hell am I socially awkward and know it? I think either of the first two roads would be better than the last.
10. I realize that for most people, this process is hardly less than instinctual, and I would have agreed four years ago — I never would have thought I’d one day be searching for advice on how to have friends. But here I am…got any?

Crossroads, and How They Suck

Alright, it’s time for a serious re-evaluation of my future: here are the facts:

1. I am a Songwriting Major, and a Creative Writing Minor

2. I love writing and performing songs

3. I love writing novels

4. I think I can get a job doing either if I try

5. I have a limited amount of creative energy

6. Ash and I want to raise our kids in Lamar, CO

7. I think it would be nice to begin having kids within the next 5 years

8. I might like to teach Writing at LHS and/or coach and/or run a youth or music program at a church and/or head up some high school organizations in my spare time

9. I have high ambitions, and don’t plan on leaving Nashville until they are accomplished

10. I will graduate from college in approximately 1 year

I’m sure you can already see some problems with these statements. I’m sure if I really tried, I could write both songs and stories, and make a living doing both. But not in Lamar. In fact, the truth is, if I plan on returning to Lamar, the Music Business is almost out of the question. I guess that now, after being married and considering the prospect of children as an actual reality, I have finally opened my eyes to the blaring contradictions staring in my fact the whole time. Curse naivete! — Even despite how naive I shall seem to myself a year from now. It just might be my undoing.

So after considering all these options, I realize with a sinking stomach I am now facing that which people have long told me I would one day face — a decision, a polite decline to one of these things. Since I obviously cannot have all of them, I must decide carefully which one(s) to give up–presuming that with the least amount of statements I have to give up, the easier my decision will be and, hopefully, the more fulfilling my life will be.

I realize straight away the obvious choice (especially for people like my grandmother). Scratch number 9. With number 9 out of the way, I can return to Lamar, get a job teaching, write on my own, and raise kids and live happily ever after. But the truth is this–going back to Lamar is the same as admitting defeat with my writing. Nothing will come of it there. And although I do desire to live a simple life one day, I do not want to return to such a life without living out my ambitions first.

Another option is to scratch number 6. Why must I raise my kids in Lamar? Or scratch number 7. Why in 5 years? Firstly, I absolutely refuse to raise my kids in a big city. I do not need to explain why, as I have been around many people raised in both rural areas and large cities, and I have formulated my own opinions on such matters. It comes down to the idea of what I deem is absolutely best for my future kids, and that subject is of great importance to me. Scratching number 7 is a bit more valid–it only deals with a certain amount of longing and homesickness, which are easier dealt with than strong convictions about how to raise kids. Still, I would like my parents to be alive when my future son or daughter is playing high school sports (or acting in plays, or singing in choir, or whatever). And on top of that, I am not sure if Ashleigh really enjoys being here, and I know her parents are pressuring her go back also — which makes me wonder if there was ever any faith put into my writing abilities at all…

Another one might be scratching number 2–forgetting about songwriting and focusing on novels (as I can write those from any place I like). To tell you the truth, if I were to turn in my most recent manuscript and a publisher picked it up and it gained a lot of momentum that earned me a reputation, I would probably start looking for houses in Lamar immediately, and write songs from then on only as a hobby. But how long would that take? How would I know when to go? And would my craft of songwriting (the very subject I’m earning a COLLEGE DEGREE in) go to waste, unused?

It seems I have a big problem indeed. Out of all possibilities, the ones listed above are the only ones I could really imagine in which only one of the statements must be crossed out for the rest to work. Perhaps, in the end, a way will open up, but right now it looks a lot like a big sloppy mess–one that I’ve no doubt constructed with my own ambitions. I have nothing left to do but to wait and see.

Today’s Petty Peeve: (#2)

Top Friends

Gosh, I hate choosing top friends on MySpace or Facebook. I avoid it at all costs, if possible (I have recently cut it down to just one–my wife). No matter how I try to order the people in my life from least to most important, I am always left feeling guilty about it. And picking groomsmen was a nightmare for me — I will probably always feel some sort of guilt about it, even though I’m not really sure what I should feel guilty about.

You see, I have never been very good about ordering things in my life — books, movies, songs, etc. When someone asks me, “What is your all-time favorite movie,” I am most likely to respond, “Which sort of movie? Action or comedy or horror or drama or…?” I have a hard time grouping things into a single category — or perhaps better put — I have a hard time finding a common criteria by which to judge such things. The same is true when I try to order my friends.

Even though this might sound cliche, it is the truth, and exactly the reason why friend-ordering is so hard for me. It’s that old, overused adage — everyone is unique. Seriously, if everyone was the same, I would have no problem choosing which of my friends is most important, next important, and so on. But how can I do that when everyone seems to fit nicely into their own category? What standard(s) — that all of my friends share — should I use to make these decisions? Maybe I just haven’t discovered it yet.

Also — I hate looking at other people’s top friends, especially if I’m on the list. For one, since I am rather competitive, I always find myself disappointed if I’m not high up, even if I’m number 2 to someone’s mother. But mostly, I’m just not comfortable knowing where I fit in at on a friend’s hierarchy of valued people, and that goes for all friends — even ones who have me at the top spot. I don’t want to know the order by which they prioritize their friendships …

I think it’s probably that “we’re all equal” mentality that I get hung up on — I’m not sure. Like I said, I guess I just haven’t found the right standard to arrange my friendships by … and as far as this subject is concerned, I’m happy to settle for ignorance.

Today’s Petty Peeve: (#1)

Guys that look like this:

See also: Crappy, rat-infested apartments with wide-screen plasma televisions, and people who pay their cell-phone bill first and worry about money for food later.

Dream of the Day: (#2)

To one day have a child that has what it takes to be a member of the Mysterious Benedict Society.

I know this sounds like a pretty weird goal, but hear me out–

There’s this new series of children’s books coming out. They’re called The Mysterious Benedict Society. So far, just the first two books have been written (the third is to be released this Fall) and they are completely, mind-blowingly amazing.

First off, if you are like me, then you might have read a little bit of Lemony Snicket. You also might have been somewhat upset/disappointed in the lack-luster end to the series and the overall feeling of doom and depression. The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart takes all the things you didn’t like about Lemony and creates his own masterpiece staring children in much the same light–showing the world all the folly in underestimating them.

To be brief, the story revolves around four very young people who, after a series of rather peculiar auditions, find themselves inducted into a very mysterious society in which they must face great danger in order to save the world. Each member of the society was chosen for a different reason, and each must use their own unique abilities to solve mysteries, uncover clues, and stop bad-guys. It’s funny, it makes you think, it’s…it’s…utterly amazing.

But seriously, this series is quickly climbing up the “Blake’s Top Kick-Butt Favorite Series” list and settling in somewhere in at least the top five. I think Stewart has an amazing insight into so many different topics, including friendship, morality, logic, and the human mind and human behavior in general.

Yup. So go read it.

Dream of the Day: (#1)

To be an actor in one of the Star Trek films.
So I saw Star Trek this weekend. Despite having never seen even a glimpse of the old show, I have to say that I absolutely loved the movie.

At the ticket counter, I have to admit admit I was a bit skeptical. After watching some trailers, I had come to the conclusion that if I tried to enter the Star Trek world at this point in time, I would find myself in way over my head, having no previous knowledge of any of the characters or chain of events, and therefore wouldn’t enjoy it whatsoever. Plus, I couldn’t even begin to picture Zachary Quinto as anyone by Sylar. Or John Cho as anyone but Harold from Harold and Kumar.

How very wrong I was. As it turns out, this movie begins a new reality in the Star Wars world. Without giving too much away, it clears the slate completely, setting up a new timeline upon which a whole plethora of new events are possible. Quinto, in my newly formed opinion, makes a better Spock than he does a Syler, and Cho also does an excellent job as Mr. Sulu. What’s more, Leonard Nimoy, the Spock from the origional series, makes a return to play a very significant role in the script.

And from what I’ve read in a few places, they’ve got a lot more Star Trek in store for the world. Supposedly, they’ve begun planning on the 12th already! If they’re anything as good as the one I saw this weekend, I’m gonna be in one someday.

Friday, Monday, comes around.

It is the weekend (yes). Not only that, it’s one of those rare Fridays that somehow feels like a Monday, leaving me with this abundance of work ethic to start the weekend off with. (double yes). Hopefully I’ll be off to new and creative things come morning–and after an extremely stressful week, I think it might be just what I need.

Now on to my three main orders of business:

1. Troy, Ash and I have heard some very nasty things about some circumstances at home, and I can’t help feeling a bit sick about it. (I mean, literally, physically, sick) I don’t know the whole story, and I don’t plan on divulging what I know on here, but I can say with the knowledge I do have that whatever the case was–whoever is telling the truth–that it was wrong. There was an injustice done, and it’s definitely going to eat at me for a while… anyway… without getting too angry and choked up right now, I will say finally that although I’m not the one who decides what justice is (thank God), I do trust that justice will play it’s part in that mess. And I’m terribly sorry for the ones who were hurt.

Ahem.

2. Okay–onto my next dilemma–the dreaded minor.

Right now at Belmont I’m majoring in Songwriting and minoring in Youth Ministry, although I haven’t really started taking my minor requirements yet. For the past month or so, I’ve been considering changing my minor to Writing. Yup… just plain writing. You see, my third year writing professor took a real liking to me after reading some of my papers, and on the bottom of every one she gives back to me, she writes “You have a gift! Don’t waste your talent–talk to Dr. Stover (the woman in charge of the writing major)!” So I did talk to her, and now I’m very seriously considering doing it. Any suggestions?
It’s sort of comical that this is happening to me, as it has already happened to Wendell in “A Walk Under Trees” and will play out much the same way (foreshadowing (sort of)).

Which leads me to my final point!

3. I’m almost done! After a year and a half of writing on “A Walk Under Trees” I am about 4 chapters from completing it. Whew. As much as I’d like to breath a sigh of relief, though, I realize that after I’m done I’m going to have to go back and rewrite/edit a bunch of things. My writing style has evolved and improved a lot since I first started, and it’s going to take a lot of work to get it all uniform. So I’m taking down all chapters on this blog and will probably not post them again.

After I’m done with Wendell I’m moving on to a farm boy named David. I’ve already got A FEW books planned out for him and his secret-littered family. I got a few new moleskines today for when the time finally comes.

So now off to the weekend – it’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it.

Research Papers…

…are the bane of my existence. It’s like giving an abstract artist a picture and telling them to trace and color it exactly how they see it. It’s not creation. It’s regurgitation, and I think I’m about to be sick.

An Old Note: The Song.

There’s a song I can’t listen to. I’ve tried.

I stare at the title for a while; the words are the warning sign.

I’ve tried. I’ve clicked it, I’ve heard the guitar start up with the rain.

I’ve felt myself being swept backward, shipped away, faster than any car or plane could take me, like a time machine. I’ve seen the classroom, and the empty desk beside mine with the flower pedals on its surface. And I’ve panicked.

No further! Could I survive if I went further? The tightness in my chest would surely crush my heart!

The complacent trills of that guitar torture me to cry. They don’t know it, though. They don’t know the power they have. The apprehension of the time-machine-maker’s voice is another warning: get out while you can.

So I do. I stop it, and I try hard to quell the monster inside me that the song provoked into consciousness. I must put it back to sleep again.

Will I ever dispose of it? I’m scared of the day it will wake.

I am still waiting for the time-machine-maker’s voice. More than once I’ve had to stop before his queue. So, I’m still waiting, just like how I’m still waiting on you. To graduate with you. To play high school baseball with you.

You were so anxious, but you never got the chance, and I took your place.

Why can’t I have done what you did? Which is more noble? Which hurts more? The living or the dying?

I will try again to hear the song: my proof that the living hurts more, in my case, and hopefully in yours too.

This World is an Emergency.

So I don’t do this very often, but I’ve decided to write an actual blog, blog. Not really my thoughts or my theories, etc. Just what’s been happening and what I’m feeling.

Blech.

You know, I don’t really like doing this, but whatever.

Most of my summer has been spent painting, and I’ve had MORE than adequate time to just think. Think, think, think, think, think, all day.

And lately, I’ve really started to feel kind of… tangled up? Troubled? I don’t know the right word for it, if there is one.

I’ve always been one to thoroughly examine my faith. I’ve grappled with all sorts of topics before, and for whatever reason, this one is just coming up now, about 4 and a half years late.

Lately, (and for whatever reason), I’ve either gotten this newly intense vision of what Hell might be like, or a newfound genuine love for the human race. Haha.

I just suddenly can’t stand the thought of ANYONE – any human at all being ETERNALLY punished. It bothers me. Especially good people. Now, I know by having just said that that I will have caused every fundamentalist to throw up their hands and say, “We are all born with sin. There are no good people!”

I know, I know, I got it. I’ve been to Sunday school. I know that without faith, all of our good deeds are like dirty rags. Our best efforts can never be enough.

But still. There are “Godless” people out there living more Godly lives than many self-proclaimed Christians.

I’ve thought about many different things while painting. Like for instance, the belief of many different churches about repentance after death. Now, I have yet to see scripture that backs that theory, but if perhaps it was true, wouldn’t that be great?

Haha. I bet I’m ruffling some feathers. After all, I am just talking about salvation – an issue that we all know is either black or white…. haha.

I honestly think that some people would rather see their ‘enemies’ burn in Hell than celebrate with them in Heaven. What kind of mindset is that? If we are called to be like Christ, shouldn’t we enjoy everyone’s company?

Let’s say you’re in Heaven. If you saw a person there who you never thought was ’saved’, would you be offended?

If you saw someone there who converted on their deathbed, the moment before they passed, would you be bitter because you endured a life of abstinence while they lived according to their own will until the very end?

If you saw someone there who went to a ‘crazy’ or ‘unorthodox’ church, would you question the right that person has to be there?

All of these are ultimately questioning God’s character. By questioning the right a person has to be in Heaven, you’re questioning whether God can make good decisions or not.

Or we can do this the other way around.

Once we trust that God is good in all things, then we start to see things like He does. That means that EVERY person, no matter who that person is, SHOULD BE valued the same.

Don’t say ‘we are all made equal’ if you don’t mean it.