Today

I'm feeling like a road rager today, but in a good way. There is bad road raging and good road raging. It's bad when tailgating passive-aggressiveness or veering into the aggressive fast lane. It's good when self-controlled and assertive.

Today, I can move mountains,
build bridges,
tear down walls.

Today, I can dunk.

Today, I am virile,
I am a quester,
I am Samson with long hair.

Today, I got my Mojo workin'.

And what is the difference between today and yesterday? Sorry, that is the story for another post.

The World Race

Just a few days ago I discovered the World Race from Seth Barnes' blog referred to me by a friend. It's an 11 month communal mission adventure around the world where you serve in 11 or more different 3rd and 2nd world countries. Check it out here. It sounded a little long for me. I have a lot of plans, especially with my music, and I didn't really take The Race seriously.

However, as I read on, about the training teams go through, about the community fostered, about the people and places participants see, I started to get chills. My eyes actually started burning with tears. "I could do this," I thought. "I might do this. I AM going to do this." And so I applied.

Now, just so you know, I can be very impulsive. Once my imagination is caught up with an idea, I tend to jump headfirst, and after cracking my skull a few too many times, I know not to trust my first judgment. See here for an example (I have done nothing with this idea and do not plan to any time soon... it is a great one though). Therefore, I hold this plan loosely, and do not be surprised if in a month, or even a week, I have changed my mind and gotten some other crazy idea.

But also, don't be surprised if I end up going.

Tahoe

I'm in a coffee shop in South Lake Tahoe City reading Dante's Inferno and staring at the tall pine trees and beautiful, snow covered peaks.

At 8:45 am on Monday, March 31, Priscilla and I packed our stuff into my little Honda Civic and began our eight plus hour trip to Lake Tahoe for a week full of snow sports and relaxation. So many times this past year I have dreamt of a road trip. Sitting at my desk at work, I have longed for brown valleys and straight roads. Finally, my thirst for the highway was quenched. At least for a bit.

We passed a few interesting, almost poetic sights on the road. For example, there was an albino cow with orange spots in a dry and deserty ravine. On one sparsely populated highway we saw a tan, half-Native American looking hitchhiker taking a break from thumbing, gazing breathlessly at a huge, mustard-grass-covered hill. I felt like I was in Grapes of Wrath.

On Wednesday, I got an idea for a novel/novella. It's about sex, but not in a tawdry sort of way. It's more about sin and morality. In consequence, I drove 40 mins. yesterday to Carson City, NE, to pick up Dante's Divine Comedy and Milton's Paradise Lost.

I'm loving Inferno. I'm surprised I'm not having more trouble with it. I always had a tough time with epic poems in college.

I'll tell you more about it later.


PS I know it's Friday and that I haven't excluded today, but I'm going to have to put it off until next week. I'm just in too good of a mood to ask anyone to leave today.

I made a Startling Realization

this morning. I was driving to work, stopped at a red light, and I started to look at all of the other drivers in their cars. Most of them were alone--bad carpoolers! although, I can't really talk--but there were a few retired couples. Then it hit me, I don't know the last time I noticed there were real live humans in the cars next to me.

What a silly thing. It's obvious, isn't it, that there must be people driving the cars on the road, but I somehow submerged that little truth inside of me like a submarine disapearing in a swamp. I am the swamp.

I feel alone when I drive. I'm focused on myself, not the people next to me. I think about my music and my blog and my friends. I'm very ambitious.

It was refreshing today to notice that there were other people on the road with me. I got to spend a little time out of my own head and inside of theirs, and for a brief moment I was saved. Like a cool shower after playing basketball in the sun.

Slow Down Santa Barbara!

In the city I live, there are these silly green signs that say, "Slow down Santa Barbara." One day I was speeding around a corner trying to make a meeting up at Westmont while an elderly couple was walking in the shoulder. There was no danger of hitting them, but the woman jumped in shock and yelled, "SLOW DOWN," shaking her fist.

On the very same corner a week later, I saw the first "Slow down Santa Barbara" sign . A big smile spread across my face. I wouldn't be surprised if that same woman put up the sign just because of me. Every time I see it, I imagine that white haired woman complaining to all her friends about some kid who was driving like a crazy person and almost ran her off the road.

Greg Rollette was recently talking about what Generation Y's short attention span means for musicians. He says that we need to constantly be compressing our messages to hook the interest of our ADD audience.

I don't necessarily disagree with him. However, I think there is much to be said for activities (including listening to music) that increase our attention span. Last night I worked on a puzzle with two of my closest friends. It was probably one of the hardest puzzles of all time, but we had a nice time staring at the tiniest details and trying to fit them into a larger picture.

William Faulkner and Simon & Garfunkel are two artists that teach us to slow down. They may not have sold the most records or books, but for the people who love them, they are the best.

Our culture moves a thousand miles a second, and that's all well and good some of the time. There are other times, though, where we all need to relax, put on some Simon & Garfunkel, and do a really hard puzzle.

Angry Road-Raging Teenagers

I was getting on the freeway during rush hour yesterday. Apparently the green suburban I tried to merge in front of thought I had gone far enough because as I was pulling into the lane he sped up, honked, and gave me the finger. Just because I was trying to merge?! At first, I looked over at the driver with an scowl on my face and said, "Are you serious?!"

Then I burst out in incredulous laughter. I couldn't tell whether it was his mom in the front seat or a buddy with long hair. I really like the image of a 16 year old kid flipping someone off over his mom's lap. Isn't that cute. The driver of the over-zealous green suburban couldn't have been over 17.

I'm so glad I'm not 16 anymore. There's so much to prove at that age. I just wanted to give that guy a slap on the back and say, "You're going to be ok. You're not going to be so confused and frustrated forever. And yes, of course you can go in front of me."

I shouldn't gloat too much. So many of my songs come from my 16 year old self. Songs about feeling alone, feeling rejected, feeling confused. I was more lost when I was 16 than I ever have been and, hopefully, ever will be. Hang in there guys, and yes, you can go in front of me.