Picture two simple, mostly identical bent pieces of metal. If aligned properly, they slide together by virtue of their specific shapes, and overlap so well that at first glance, they look permanently attached. If one knows how to put them together, then one knows how to take them apart again— but there is no motive to. Without the other, each is just a twisted fragment of steel, but together, they create a singular who that is special and is to be marveled at. "How," an unknowing observer might ask, "could these two be attached so tightly without distorting their original forms?" But they do not know that these bonds are not forced into submission, but accepted as part of the objects' inherent nature, and only by giving in to that nature do the shapes give form to something new and amazing.

Tunes: "Life, In A Nutshell," Barenaked Ladies (iTMS).

Today is a very very very very very good day. Not only is today Laura's and my third monthiversary, but I got accepted into Marlboro! I now celebrate in the immortal words of Ren and Stimpy:

Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy joy!

^_^

The other day, Laura and I were talking, and something she said reminded me of a song that I loved as a child, and hadn't heard for several years. So today, it is with great hapiness that I share it with you, and sing along:

Governments crack and systems fall
'Cause unity is powerful
The lights go out and walls come tumbling down...

Tunes: "Walls Come Tumbling Down!" The Style Council (iTMS).

Thanks to the generosity of a friend of mine, I was taken to go see the premiere run of Spam-A-Lot today.

Wow.

Brilliantly written, incorporating many aspects of Monty Python's Holy Grail and a bit of Life of Brian as well, this show is totally worth seeing. The cast list, starring Tim Curry, David Hyde Pierce, and Hank Azaria, speaks for itself.

Once again, wow (it seems like Ive been feeling that way a lot lately).

Fechez La Vache!!! (Moooooo)

There's a smile on my face, things seem to be running smoothly, I'm going to eat Mexican food for dinner tonight, and loud ska and 90's hits are playing over my speakers.

Good times, good times.

Tunes: "Sell Out," Reel Big Fish (iTMS); "Unbelievable," EMF (iTMS); 'Two Princes," Spin Doctors (iTMS); and "Time Bomb," Rancid (iTMS).

With a sudden crack, shards of broken glass fall on the freezing cold asphalt. Puffs of air hang in front of her taut face like clouds of smoke as she tries to regain her composure. The large monkey wrench slips from her hand and clatters as it hits the ground. She absentmindedly bends down to pick it up, and cuts her finger on a fragment of her handiwork. Oh well, she thinks, I guess I deserved that. Some poor sap is going to wake up to find his car totaled thanks to me, so the least I can do is hurt myself in the process. She takes an appraising look at the now-defunct vehicle, and takes one more swing at the taillight which explodes in a satisfying shower of sparks. Satsfied for the time being, she shoulders her implement of destruction and walks away.

Tunes: "Blue Eyes," Cary Brothers (iTMS).

I haven't posted in a while, which throws off my average, but now that I am done (read: done done done!!!) with my college applications, I'll be back in my usual routine.

Today had looked like a good day. I mailed the last of my applications and went to my play rehearsal.Unfortunately, after class, things went downhill. Some friends of mine have stumbled into a garden of dissension, where the seeds of anger, well watered with misunderstanding, bloom at a frightening speed. The argument has since left its original cause and now exists solely to perpetuate itself. I hope that this contention can be resolved, the sooner the better.

"This must be Thursday... I never could get the hang of Thursday."
-Arthur Dent, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

I don't know what it is... The sun is shining, there's plenty of snow on the ground, the woodland creatures are frolicing (OK, maybe not woodland creatures, but squirrels and neighborhod pets), and there's not a cloud in the sky, but something just seems off. I'm having trouble getting comfortable today. Hmm.


Tunes: "Airport Song," Guster; "Unwell," Matchbox 20.

I really really love Ben Harper. He rocks my socks.

Well the good Lord is such a good Lord
With such a good mother too
They have blessed me
They have blessed me
In the good graces of you
Now I, I have heard a hundred violins crying
And I, I have seen a hundred white doves flying

But nothing is as beautiful
As when she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
In me
Oh- in me
Mmhh

How good it must feel
To be so young, young and free
And a song that pleases a queen
Will always please me
Now I, I have heard the wisest of wisdom
And I, I have dined in palaces and kingdoms

But nothing is as beautiful
As when she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
In me
Oh- in me
Mmhh - Oh - no no no no

Now, all of life is just passing the time
Until once again your eyes look into mine
Now I, I have been adored by a stranger
And I, I have heard the whispering angel

But nothing is as beautiful
As when she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
When she believes
In me
Oh - la la la...

"When She Believes," Ben Harper.

I finished last year on a high note. In the morning, I completed three college applications, went for a walk (in a t-shirt, as it was 54 degrees out), and went with Laura and Susie and Luke and Tripp to see the closing of Trish's show, Rudolph the Red-Hosed Reindeer, which was fabulous, and if it ever comes to a theater near you, I highly recommend it. There was a party after, with dancing, eating, drinking, bubbles, balloons, frisbees, and fun. A happy new year to you all, and remember: being normal isn't normal at all. ~_^

Today is the day for remembrance of the Holy Innocents. I don't remember precisely how old I was when my parents explained the story to me, only the nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. The story I'd heard before was a cheerful one, an amusing one, even, of how the Magi met with Herod, eventually found Jesus and worshiped him, and left town by another road so that Herod's nefarious plot was spoiled and tune in next week for the further adventures... You get the idea. Suddenly I was being faced with the grittier side of the story, the part about how Herod was so obsessed with his power that he ordered the slaughter of all the infant males in an entire city. Herod was so scared that he would be ousted from his throne at least fifteen or twenty years down the line that he had an entire male generation massacred. Infants who were just starting to open their eyes to the world, taking first steps and uttering first words, were mercilessly killed to appease the insecurity of a tyrant, in the name and stead of my Lord and Savior. It was a large and bitter pill to swallow. I turned to the lectionary for help, which it had trouble providing. The messages in the Old Testament, the Gospel, and the Psalms offer much in the way of wailing and gnashing of teeth, and only vague glimpses of hope. The epistle is what helped me through, with Revelation 21. I quote the paraphrase I know from Bairstow's arrangement that I learned in choir: "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away." I pray this night that God has wiped away the tears from their eyes, and that they may thrive in that place where there is no pain or grief, but life eternal.

There's a big smile on my face as as I sit with my family around a fire, opening presents and laughing in each other's company. I hope that you all have a very merry Christmas or whatever holiday is appropriate.

Feeling kind of off tonight. Sore throat, quirky temperature... I really hope I'm not coming down with something. Not only would the timing on that be very much not-fun, but being sick is just crappy anyway.

Blah.

Tunes: "Christmas Is All Around", Billy Mack.

Crazy last-minute college application work this weekend, with the notable break being the Kill Hannah show tonight. Hopefully that rush will get me through.

Tunes: "Sick Boy", "Don't Die Wondering", and "Raining All The Time", Kill Hannah.

There's a man who I see from time to time walking around the library. His body is somewhat disfigured: his leg is bent inwards and he walks with a cane, his face is offset, and he moves somewhat jerkily. He'll talk to anyone who passes by, and tell them his story if they stay to listen. Many people don't stay. They think he's asking for money or they simply don't have the time to waste on some strange man they don't know. I've heard his spiel several times, but I always stay to hear him out. He used to be a wealthy, successful man before he went to the store on his bike and was hit by a truck, which maimed him. He lists the injuries he maintained, and then implores you to always wear your helmet. That's all he wants, to make sure that other people are careful and safe. If you're still around after that, he'll go on briefly about the dangers of smoking, too. I've heard it all before, but I still stay and listen. Sometimes he recognizes me and abridges his story, sometimes not, but I feel that paying attention to him is the least I can do. I don't know how strong his grasp on reality is, or if his story is true or not, but I believe him anyway, because what I do know is that all this man does is show care for others, and I have nothing but the deepest respect for him for that. So if you're ever walking through downtown Evanston, and a strange man hails you asking if you ride a bike or not, take a pause and give him a listen. It's the least you can do.

Advent is a season of waiting, and that's what I'm doing right now, for a number of different things:

13 days until Christmas
8 days until Laura comes home
6 days until Nate gets home
2 days until I meet with my friend and mentor Paul
Roughly two hours before I'll likely get to sleep
Half an hour until I can finish my movie
Lord only knows how long until the phone rings again

Yup, keeping busy. Hard to let life pass you by when you're in it neck deep.

Tunes: "Have A Little Faith In Me", John Hiatt (iTMS); "Hey Now", FM Static (iTMS).

I just stumbled across a site with a very random and quite hilarious concept:

Animated 30-second summaries of movies, reenacted by bunnies.

Check it out.

(Warning: movies contain gore and naughty language)

I was swimming though a dark, heavy, viscous fog, trying to push through and achieve some level of consciousness. My eyes were open, and I could see, but I could not move my eyes, or any other part of my body for that matter. I was an observer in my own mind, free to think and watch what my body did, but with no control whatsoever. With a frustrated push of effort, I managed to brush that higher level, and my gaze flickered across the landscape. Encouraged, I pushed again, harder, and a noise came out of my mouth through bitter nausea. Once more, I prepared to hurl myself through the barrier, when out of nowhere there was pain and a sudden weight attached itself to me like a ball and chain and dragged me flailing deep into the mists. One step forward and five back, apparently. I could no longer see, or feel, or smell, or sense at all. I was aware that there was a body, but that was all. Soon I began to even doubt that, wondering whether it was a body I was in or just some strange dream that I'd had, that I liked to fantasize about. I still wonder.

Tunes: "The Drinking Song", Moxy Früvous (iTMS).

It's over. We had a good run, it was "hell and bliss and all that soars between it", as the song goes, and I'm very glad to have been a part of it and very grateful to all who came to see me (and all who wished to come but were otherwise hindered), but it's done and I'm so glad. It's done. Now I get to devote my time to finishing college applications! Yay!

Tunes: "Hey Julie", Fountains of Wayne (iTMS).

Cut and pasted from my youth group bulletin, courtesy of my good friend Nick (thanks, man):

Hi Everyone,

This Friday and Saturday Si is performing Shakespeare's Twelfth Night* on Friday and Saturday 7:00 at the Edgebrook Community Church (6736 N Loleta in Chicago, I'd use mapquest for directions). Having sat in on some rehearsals the show looks great, and there are swords! (what could be better?) To answer the aforementioned question, what makes it better is a mere $2 for admission! Try that at navy pier. I hope everyone can make it to support Si and see the play, which has swords ;-)

Peace, love, and lots of shiny objects
~nick

*not solo, unless the flu goes around

So many feelings, impulses, and dreams fight for my attention, leaving me uncertain of where I am or what I should be feeling. Physically, I'm fine (a little better than fine, as I've been noshing on leftovers all day), but having my stream of consciousness form a whirlpool inside my skull messes me up but good.

Maybe I've just watched Garden State too many times, but I've been doing a lot of thinking about what "home" means to me lately. My initial thought is this house that I'm sitting in right now, but that's not quite it. Really, it's more of a combination of this house with a certain number of specific people who live there with me. Some don't live here any more, which has caused me to have to stretch out in search of another handhold, like a vine of ivy searching for something sturdy to cling to. Now, instead of a singular strong rock, I float thanks to the many places and people who are a part of me, and are my home, whose combined efforts keep me buoyant. So as my house fills again, I feel more at home than ever, and I'm very, very, thankful.

Tunes: "I'm On My Way", The Proclaimers (iTMS), "At My Most Beautiful", R.E.M. (iTMS), "More Than Love", Los Lonely Boys (iTMS).

This is the third morning in a row I've been woken up by a telemarketer calling. All the morning wakeup calls have been from the same company, and one marketer even had the audacity to call again later in the day yesterday. Do they REALLY think that I'll start giving them money, just to shut them up? Or do they believe that the more they call, the greater the odds I will stop saying "No, I'm not interested, stop calling me" and listen to their offer and actually take them up on it? I try to be polite when dealing with these invasions of my time, but I've grown progressively less so. At this rate, any telemarketer that calls before 9:00am and wakes me is likely to be greeted with an expletive and a dead line (possibly a few extra expletives if it's from the same company).

Grr.

feeling muscles slowly burning
entropizing, vainly yearning
wanting just to stretch beyond
confines of disease's bond
feeble neath this grey pall
clenched tight in sickness' thrall
whispering my last request
praying that what i've confessed
through the son will be forgiven
when from life my soul is riven

Tunes: "Thunder", Prince (iMTS); "Summer of '69", Bryan Adams (iTMS); and "I Don't Wanna Be", Gavin DeGraw (iTMS).

The cold night air prickles along the skin of his arm as he sits at his table, pencil poised over yet another sheet of paper. His eyes close and his brow furrows as his hand bursts suddenly into action, scrawling rapidly across the page. Just as suddenly, he stops, and reads over what he was written. As his eyes scan the sloppy script, his head begins to shake, and something inside him snaps as, frenzied, he tears the paper to shreds and throws the pieces into a pile of similar remains on the corner. He pauses, breathing deeply, and he glances up at a framed picture on the wall. He relaxes, and pulls up another sheet of paper as the chill sets in again.

Tunes: "Save Tonight", Eagle-Eye Cherry (iTMS).

It's times like yesterday that make it seem amazing that it took Einstein to realize that time is relative.

The piano started quietly, soon being joined by gradual layers of voices, all singing together, "Veni Sancte Spiritus": Come, Holy Spirit. Ministers of all denominations made their way slowly, reverentially, to where he knelt, and laid their hands upon him. A clear, pure melody soared out over the congregation from Susie's throat as the whole congregation raised their own hands to show their acceptance of his sacrifice, his offering of servitude to God and to God's people. Tears ran silently down faces as the chanting slowly hushed until it was barely more than a whisper.

It couldn't have taken more than four or five minutes. But for all of us, and I'm sure especially for Tripp, it lasted-- and will last-- for a lifetime.

My big bro Tripp's been all holy-fied. I'm proud of you, dude.

The island is a small one, with only a few square miles of open land. It's privately owned, with minimal taxes going to the reigning government, which doesn't really care. Sitting in the Pacific, it remains largely undeveloped, with plenty of natural flora and fauna. There aren't many buildings: a scattering of small houses, a tiny chapel, a partially covered courtyard, and a small solar/wind plant. As the sun sets, two people are silhoutted against the horizon overlooking the wine-red ocean.

Oh, c'mon, is it really too much to ask?

Tunes: "Island In The Sun", Weezer (iTMS).

Hey, at least he can pronounce polysyllabic words...

Tunes: "I'm So Bored With The U.S.A.", The Clash .

The sky is a rumpled blanket of grey, smothering what lies beneath it in shadow. Every now and then there is a slight break, and you can see the light shoot through, a distant sign that there is something on the other side worth hoping for, but the real goal is for the clouds to burn away and have the sun shine directly down on you in its full majesty, to feel the dark, humid shade melt and dissolve as that overpowering warmth and light cascades over you. That's what to aim for, because once you've felt that glory, then it doesn't matter if the clouds come back, because you know that that power is still back there, and any moment now it will shine forth again.

Tunes: "10 More Minutes", Kill Hannah (iTMS); "Here Comes My Girl", Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. (iTMS).

Just incredible. Go Sox, it's about time.

I won't say I want to be just like the AccordionGuy when I grow up, but if my life reaches a moderately similar level of weirdness (and I make it through with enough sanity to get by), I will be content.

Tunes: "Chorus And The Ring", R.E.M. (iTMS); "Lovers In A Dangerous Time", Bruce Cockburn (iTMS).