So many new and special things!

First, I made my big technology purchases for school: a 12" iBook G4, a 30gb iPod Photo, and a printer. I am having LOTS of fun with my new babies.

Second, I have been flickrized! Check me out here.

Third... OK, so two new and special things. But I'm having fun anyway.

Tunes: "Goody Two Shoes," Adam Ant (iTMS); "Star 69," R.E.M. (iTMS).

A thief, vanishing into a faceless crowd.

A holiday, celebrated long ago with friends and strangers.

A house, whose aged wood breathes with a life of its own.

A car, cruising along through countryside.

Last night I put up a few links to "news" headlines and tacked on some snarky and cynical barbs. Sometime later that night, either I felt guilty about insulting the runaway bride and went back and deleted the post (unlikely) or Leo DiCaprio's people found out and hacked into my admin interface to remove it (very slightly more likely). Or, y'know, maybe I just messed something up in Blogware. Anyone who knows more than I do about this sorta thing have any ideas of where it got to?

The night is cool, a sharp contrast from the humid heat that the day had been. He stands at an intersection, waiting. A broken beer bottle catches his eye, glinting in the glow of the streetlights. Its pieces are scattered, its original shape nothing but a transparent memory told by the label that still holds some few shards in its embrace. He pauses, reflecting on this piece of litter, and its symbolism, before pushing the thought out of his mind and kicking the fragments away, leaving no sign of their prior existence except a light scratch on a rubber shoe sole. Still he waits, and still that scratch stays.

Tunes: "Nobody Likes You When You're Dead," Zombina and the Skeletones; "Baby, I'm An Anarchist," Against Me!.

This week's mantra:

I will not kill/maim/otherwise smite my castmates.
I will not run screaming into the street.
I will not hang myself with my blanket.
(repeat)

Yes, this week is Tech (Hell) week, with 4+ hour rehearsals daily for the upcoming show: You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown. Please do come and see it. Support youth theater. Support homeschooling. Support me (as Linus Van Pelt), and possibly (if you're lucky) see the exact moment when I snap, rend my garments, and swing away on a microphone cord.

Seriously, though, please do come, this Friday and Saturday, at 2pm and 7pm each day. $3 tickets at the door, at the Edge of the Woods Theater, 6376 N. Loleta Ave. Yes, past shows have been free, but we had to pay royalties on this one, so please come and bring lots of friends so the difference doesn't have to come out of my pocket.

Tunes: "Life In A Northern Town," Dream Academy (iTMS).

Imagine, if you will, me as a twelve-year-old boy. Hardly the dashingly handsome young man that stands before you, I was the same weight I am now, but a good foot shorter, with crisply parted hair and glasses that covered the vast majority of my chipmunk-cheeked face. I had arrived in town just in time for a Wednesday afternoon rehearsal, where I was greeted warmly-- for the most part. Will, the current head boy, led me over to a spot next to him so he could show me how they did things at St. Luke’s, so I settled in and started looking over the music I’d been handed. Right about then I received a sudden blow to my side, and heard someone say “Hey! Out of my spot!” I was already nervous, being the new guy, and this assault by an invisible chorister was almost more than I could handle, until I looked down and saw a boy who came up to about my elbow. I made a mental note to avoid him from then on out. His name, I later learned, was Mark Shuldiner. Most of you know how well THAT resolution turned out.

There really is a point to that story, aside from an attempt at humor. I was extremely insecure at that point in my life. I had just uprooted and moved not only to a different time zone, but miles and miles away from the East Coast, which had been my lifelong home, into the strange and unknown lands called the Midwest. Yet in the midst of all this uncertainty, I was dropped off in front of that beautiful neo-gothic sanctuary we know so well, and I was immediately embraced into a community of people united in Christ through a common passion. St. Luke’s made Evanston my home that day, and the choir and parish became a very real family for me, even those among you who I didn’t start off on the right foot with.

We’ve shared many amazing experiences over the years, most of which are hard to name. Whether we were at Six Flags or St. Paul’s Cathedral, playing hacky sack and dying our hair or singing Parry or Howells or Bairstow or whomever, the joy came not from the location or activity, but from the company. Playing Frisbee in the hail wouldn’t have been the same if the boys hadn’t roughed it through and kept on going. It wouldn’t have been as fun to ram someone else with a go-kart instead of Friedland. There’s a song I've listened to and enjoyed since I was a child whose chorus goes: “It’s not the pot that grows the flower/It’s not the clock that slows the hour/The definition’s plain for anyone to see/Love is all it takes to make a family.” Many from my St. Lukes family are here tonight. Many others are not, having graduated themselves or moved away or joined other parishes. But present or not, they and you will always be remembered as my family, and I can’t think of a higher compliment I can give.

Yours truly is now employed for the summer. And not just any old summer job, something that I'm uniquely suited for.

That's right. I'm the newest member of Apple Computer, Inc.

So hey, if you're ever wandering the Mag Mile, poke your head into the cool square building and ask for Si. I'll show you the wares, and try to sell you a shiny new G5 alongside a 30" display. ^_^

Tunes: "Feel Good Inc.," Gorillaz (iTMS); "Jerk It Out," Caesars (iTMS).