How are you?

"I'm fine."

Wow. I know this is by far the most cliche topic to write on. It made a deeper, even more cliche-er impact on my heart this morning as I was typing an email.

How are things? I'm not really sure. I never have a good answer. People ask me this question a lot (because I'm horrible with correspondence. See: Rachel Larson, Wes Wicklund, Erik Haagenson, Chris Nicoletti, Bryce Perica, and several more I'm sure...). I always feel like I need to be doing well; or at least have some thrilling story about why I'm deep down in the pits.

Perhaps it's a bit too socio-spiritually pressing, but I have to wonder where God fits into this question. The truth apparently sets me free. We'll see about that.

The truth: God said that (and I quote) "It is good." Was he lying, or badly mistaken? Was he making some kind of cruel joke? He could have said "This is the kingdom of heaven, right here, right now." He could have said "Dude. This world is going to SCREW me OVER!" Nope. He said it is good.

Asking someone how they're doing puts them on the spot. I've decided I don't like that. I don't like the question. I've decided that I might be odd for exploring my innermost thoughts on this. It seems with the quesiton that I'm thrown into a reality of "Well, I should be feeling awesome! But things aren't going as well as I want them to, so I'll dodge the whole thing by saying fine."

Then they keep going. "What's going on?"
...Don't even get me started. I take three different medications for three different medical conditions. I was born in the church and am never able to forgive myself for how I sin, where I sin, why I sin, when I sin, and why I can't stop.

Sins include:
Anything that can be sinned.

I see why God wanted to save the world; I don't get why he wants to save me. Sure, I know the word that indicates why; it's love. But I mean come on, God. At least do something NOW. Crush a city or something. Move a mountain. Send the oakland raiders back to hell where they came from. Cure world hunger; because we both know I'm way too lazy to do that. Give me the ability to strum according to Jeff Rummer's strumming patterns.

Replace perfectionism with a love that I can genuinely feel and respond to.

..."I'm fine, how are you?"

Intent never makes a sound.

anything goes; shoulder to shoulder, toe to toe.

It would be far too simple of an endeavor to merely say that it was a 'good concert.' It was far more than that. It was a meeting of the minds; musical interaction at it's finest level. A pure symphony of headbanging, distorted guitars, cheering, and, of course, mosh pits.

This time, it was Anberlin's headlining tour stop at the Gothic Theatre in South Denver. I love that place. It's built perfectly; not only does it sport a quality moshing floor (separating men from mere boys), but it also boasts one of the finest mezzanines I've ever had the priveledge of enjoying. Don't even get me started on how well engineered the acoustics of the theatre are.

The show started with Jonezetta opening. In my opinion, this was a mistake. Jonezetta is far superior to the likes of Bayside, not to mention Meg and Dia. Either way, they played a few awesome songs, my favorite being "Backstabber." I wish they would have played "Communicate." That song is catchier than herpes in a whore house.

Jonezetta was great. I watched their opening act along with that of Meg & Dia from the center of the mezzanine; just behind the sound rack. You know all those fancy lighting effects you see at concerts? It looks really easy to get that kind of show going. You just push buttons to the beat. Hmmm. I suddenly have a new career opportunity in stage lighting!

After Meg & Dia, my roommate and I ventured downstairs to the mosh pit floor. Tim ran into someone he had met eons ago. He runs into her at almost every single concert he goes to. This time, she helped us get closer to the front. This is where the mosh pit took over.

People were doing their usual mosh pit thing. Bouncing around, jumping, and what ever else. I had made it close to the front for a good part of Bayside's set. I was smashed between a huge guy who was obviously there only for Bayside and a kid who looked like he should have been home studying the pypthagorean theorem or working on his myspace page. I suddenly realized that the geek-type kid to my left was not such a fan of my sudden presence at the very freakin' front. I came to a realization about this kid, and maybe for him. Anything goes; shoulder to shoulder, toe to toe.

I wasn't quite all the way to the front. I had a hold of the bar that separates the band from the security guards from the raging crowd. I was thinking that bayside wasn't all that great of a band; they were pretty catchy, but lacked something for me. Not sure what it was. Maybe it was the lead singer's teeth. It looked like they had been layered. They were horribly crooked.

Then the unspeakable happened. The lead singer from bayside jumped out onto the bar that I had previously had my hand on. Immediately, the two men I had been sandwiched between split and I was able to make a grab at it! I was in the freakin' front!

I held my position for the remainder of bayside; and was at the front for the entire Anberlin headlining show. The rest is history; I gave them my all and rocked out as hard as I could for Anberlin's set. Afterwards, I had a chance to meet all of them, and they recognized me as the kid who was going at it the whole FREAKING set and never gave up; they were awesome to be around.

It's my birthday, and I have to go to school. I'm twenty one. I can't wait to go home.

Bus Rides

It's five fifty-eight in the morning. The otherwise heavy door swung open in rhythm with my footsteps. I'm out the door; ready to do battle with yet another one of my days.

It was still dark outside; and my heart almost sank when I saw what appeared to be my beloved bus pull away all too quickly from a stand-still. Sixteenth and Broadway in boulder was my stop, and the BX was my bus. Yet as the bus swept by me, I saw the sign. It was the DD; not my splendid BX. The swing in my step returned as I thought to myself, "Ludakris fill the bus like double deeees!"

The spring air is fresh on my mind. It's a brisk morning, but it's still warm. Perfect.

The bus rolled up to the stop. I noticed, as it rolled up, a single set of dual wheels. I've begun to refer to those as "dubs." I'd like to Xzibit Pimp My Ride; which, coincidently, is The Ride. My whip's sayin "Quit playin', please watch your step and get in!"

I'm going to go ahead and say that there is a pretty aweful pre-existing judgement against public transportation. I've decided that I'm fine with it.

Sure, if I had my own car, I'd probably drive it a lot, too. I'm fine with whatever social implications come with patronizing my beloved bus system. If I'm poor, well, that's fine.

The funny thing: I don't ever have to pay for gas. Up yours. Don't even get me started on the insurance money I'm saving. Someday, I'll make a spouse-like person in my life really happy when I don't have to own a car in order to get around.

In your face, automotive world!

I love the bus. It reminds me all too easily about how lonely and crowded life really is; especially when I don't have the guts to strike up a conversation with a complete and total stranger.

Yes, there is a special place in my heart for strangers. It's no cosmic coincidence that the people who ride the bus are the most interesting people ever. It's an honor to call myself one of them.

In your face, automotive world!

I'm sure that someday I'll finally cave and buy my own car. Yet for now, I will save time I'd normally spend stuck in traffic or waiting for a red light to turn green. I'll save insurance money, gas money, and I'll save the environment.

Eat it, geiko. I saved all that money and environment in the time it took me to write this, my first post. So easy a college student understands it.

Intent never makes a sound!