I Have Not Forgotten Them.

I have assignments due and responsibilities knocking at my door over and over again. But I just turn up the music and let the beats blend in with the music regardless of how out of sync it all is. That's what I'm doing right now. I just want to write and not deal with these things. My thoughts are on you, actually. This happens frequently. The "you" is usually a different person but lately it's all been this one. It's driving me insane, quite honestly. Playing games and doing things "the right way." It's just not how I'm designed I suppose. I operate differently than those who are squawking in my ears.

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I used to not care much for The Beatles. I mean, yeah, I respected them for their influence - their huge immeasurable influence on music in general. But I never really saw anything spectacular in them. That is until one night while listening to Abbey Road on vinyl - from the original pressing. It was this one bass line on the song Come Together. As soon as it rolled out everything fell into place and I saw why people talk so much about them. I became one of those people.

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I've started writing a friend back and forth. It's very interesting. At times, I feel that I've spread my writing outlets too thin. I have my journal which gets very personal thoughts. Almost like the beginning of theories. And then the somewhat worked out solutions are sent to my friend. And then I have this which is a very general - almost like a summary of the rest. It's the publication of what stuck to the wall.

I've spilled some stuff to him that very few people have heard. Just part of my heart and deep thoughts. It's very freeing as I know that he doesn't judge. I mean, we all judge things. And he and I disagree on many things but we still come to the table openly. It's been very nice.

And typically, when I open up to someone I want answers to internal questions that they don't have. I wrote a few pages on one topic and his response was one sentence. But it was perfect. And that's how our notebook goes, back and forth.

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It's very hard to take advice that goes against your gut. I like to go with my gut more than other people's direction. Sometimes they're right, I know. But I'd hate to think that I missed something because I didn't do what I felt was best. With that comes responsibility for failure as well, and not having someone to blame all of those on is rough - because it falls on my shoulders. But I'd rather have that than a disdain for someone who I allowed to lead me into a hole.

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What drives me more insane is wondering if your thoughts are on me like mine are on you. How fitting that "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" is playing right now.

It's Hard To Be A Decent Human Being.

It's been sometime since I've posted, almost a month. I've been busy but not that busy. I felt and still am kind of not facing things. Just keeping things as superficial as possible. I've been floating around for a little while, mostly waiting for school to start. Well school has started and things aren't really different.

But amongst late nights and lazy days with my roommates, I've had some talks and I've seen change in my life. Change in my thoughts and ideals. Convictions that used to be there that are gone. And all of these, I count for better. And I realize that some people won't ever understand what I mean. But these changes have been here for awhile and I've probably hinted at them. I know people have seen them; People from back home who only see me once in awhile can tell a difference. But I don't know that I could honestly and accurately explain them to you. They include, but are not limited to thoughts on: love, religion, God, and how I am to live life.

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I think the title of this post is fitting, considering what the title was of my post before last. I can see the last one being just about life. And in life there are so many things to do; to be.

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I started this post on September 3rd. It's been awhile. But I have had this post in mind the whole time in between. I've been wanting to return to it so many nights and mornings and tonight seems like the right time.

I just got off of the porch I've been on for the last three hours talking to with a dear friend. We've had these talks for sometime now. Each one is more enlightening than the last. I've been questioned and challenged in regard to all of those things listed above. And there's a lot about me that I don't think I ever knew; or that I pushed aside to never deal with. I wish that I knew where to start, where to spill my heart.

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I think people judge too much. Especially christians. It's like they think they're better than everyone or that if you aren't living like them that you just aren't worth their time. But do they forget that we're all worthless? That all of us are that woman by the well? All of us are whores, murderers & thieves. I wish they'd look into themselves and see that they are no better than the people they condemn. I've seen more of the lost with better hearts than the saved and selected.

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Love is a tough game. And I've been on the bench for awhile. And every time I get a chance to get back in the game I screw it up or find myself disinterested. And it boils down to the fact that I don't have it in me. As much as I want to give love, it just isn't there. There's nothing there for me to give you. There are too many risks and open wounds for you to access and I can't let you touch me there. I just don't have time for that game anymore.

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I feel that I'm not a very traditional christian. I think about God a lot. But I don't care much for these rituals of Sunday morning services and weekly gatherings because they all seem too fake. Too....put on. Too marketed. I'm searching for something real - a real connection that no one seems to be offering. I believe in God, not out of fear but out of reverence. I don't think I could convince someone that God exists because it's inherent in me. I can't look at this world and say that He doesn't. And to me not being able to see that is a travesty.

Too much weight is put on some of these acts and how they show the status of your soul. No one can see into another man's soul and to assume that you can is arrogant. And I don't think we're meant to beat our chest and curse ourselves but rather to love God and our fellow man - faults and all.

I think that if you aren't always searching and questioning your beliefs then you're in the clouds. And I wish you'd see that I am searching; that I am questioning. That if I believe, it will be for me. And that this is very important to me. That I am human and, well...

A Few Thoughts On Torture.

Alright, for those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you saw my updates regarding the topic of torture. I ended the 140 character messages saying that I would write a longer, more in depth response to that which I heard during the seminar revolving around the topic given by Mark Danner. It was part of a series of seminars given over the last couple of days making up Constitution Week.

First, let me go thru my thoughts on the use of torture by our government to obtain information.

I haven't been known to keep up on current affairs and news trends since my senior year of high school in Mr. Poling's political science class. So aside from a few very large events, I've been out of the loop. So I knew that torture was used during the Bush administration and our operations in Iraq. But I had always thought that it was okay due to the fact that it was for the safety of our country. I thought that if that's what it took to get the job done then it should be done. These people do horrible things to us and others so why not do the same to them when necessary*? To me it was an issue of speaking the same language. Think Native Americans and the English settlers: arrows verses guns. We want to be the kid on the block with the shiny toy and that's what waterboarding is! Okay, so that's a little stretched, but I think you gist.

* That's not to say that torture for the thrill of it is ever right. But if that's what it took, then that's what it took.

Today I went into this seminar thinking that my thoughts were going to be said to be stupid and unintelligent but I was wrong. Danner did disagree, but not in a demeaning way. He spoke intelligently and respectfully stating just what he's researched and felt.

The main point of the whole thing was to show how the use of torture went against the U.S. Constitution. The 8th Amendment specifically states that we won't use cruel and/or unusual punishment. And then there's also the Geneva Convention. And I knew that these were against the use of torture but it really didn't seem like that big of an issue to me.

So Danner started by reading one prisoner's account of being tortured in Iraq. It was that of one of the men behind 9/11 and the first to be interrogated this way. He was more of a guinea pig for the techniques, to see what was effect and what wasn't. I saw it as a method of pulling heartstrings and getting everyone on his side. He was manipulating the crowd and my arms were still folded at this point. but as he talked I started to see his point and even had a couple of questions. I was asking myself, "Should policy be rewritten to account of the change in warfare?" We weren't marching in lines in fields anymore; we're fighting a different war and should adapt to fight it adequately.

Danner explained how the founding fathers of our country who wrote the Constitution put that in there because they saw torture in England and tied torture to tyranny. He also told how interrogation techniques were used against the Nazis that were very effective and didn't involve torture. And how we give up the possibility of true justice when we use torture. We can't bring those who have been tortured into the court system because it's illegal. And at this point I started to think that perhaps torture isn't necessary. We shouldn't have to compromise ideals and human decency to win a fight. If our goal is to eradicate terrorists, we can't just kill them all because they will just keep coming. And if we stoop to their level and torture then that doesn't give them a reason to stop.

And when it came down to it, Danner didn't say that Bush and his administration was evil. He didn't even say they did a bad job. He believed that they believed that they did what they thought was best. But he said things needed to change. That our country needs to stand for what it stood for so long ago, back when we corrected ourselves and admitted mistakes. We need to take a stand and make our thought on the use of torture known. It isn't necessary, it isn't the only way to get things done. We can still fight fairly because this isn't a question of who has the better gun. It seems more of a question of revenge. They deserve this because they are evil. But they are humans and they don't deserve that. We can protect our country and not use torture. 9/11 didn't happen because we weren't using it. 9/11 happened at other security faults of our government - not following leads and investigating people living in the states and more and more. It was just something that happened, like Pearl Harbor. If we knew what we know now, it wouldn't have happened but that's not how it works. And if we'd been torturing then, that doesn't mean anything.

Anyway - those are the thoughts I had yesterday. Feel free to comment - just keep it respectful.

We're Human, This At Least We've Learned.

Last night I intended to play at an open-mic night of a bar near campus. As I was loading into my car, I received a call letting me know that they weren't doing it tonight. So all of my friends who made plans to go and see me decided that we'd hit up Sonic for tasty treats (Lemon Berry Creamslush is among my favorites) and then we'd head over to The House to hang out and perhaps music would still be had. The House is the name that is currently given to the house at which I live - along with Eric, J.A. Barr, Spencer, & Matthew. I could tell you about them all but I would feel like Jack Kerouac. The descriptions would consist of weird occurrences where you weren't and so you probably wouldn't get it - that's not to say that you wouldn't find them all as fascinating as they are...I'm just saying...

Back to the story................

So when one - and by one, I mean me - plays guitar for people, he's very conscious of the fact that people tend to ask to hear songs but once they make their decision, their assessment, critique, they either fake enjoying it or truly do. And he's been in situations wherein someone keeps playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and playing and it feels much like you were just now in wondering how many times I was going to type "and playing." Well, he doesn't want to be that guy. That party guitar guy. Always leave them wanting more! That's what we say.

So even though he really, very deeply wanted to play music and wanted for his friends to hear it he didn't bring it up as if he wanted to play slide show from his trip to wine country for them that they'd endure. So once they started asking, and not just one but a choir of voices asked to hear his songs, he got out his guitar.

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Spencer is a musician thru and thru. He's a writer. He's a thespian of life. But he'd hate to think that he was described in this manner. Talking to him feels like talking to a man who's been at sea for too long and broken more hearts than I've ever known. One who's seen dark places and even dwelt there. Cynical about the world and people who control it. He lives life as best as he can. I don't know if these things are true of him, but that's what I feel. I love being around him.

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Spencer came in and picked up his guitar and made his upright bass ready. He made drunken comments - not that it mattered if he was drunk or not. That's another trait of Spencer. And sadly, the most boring part of the story is it's climax. They played music and there was applause after each one. People saw a side of him that they'd never seen. They had probably started to wonder "what does this kid do, anyway?" Well, he showed them.

So Spencer and some of the others went out side while the rest of them sat inside and even asked for more. Harmonicas were used and lyrics were forgotten but laughter was there as well. It was a good time. And he realized that it was better to play in this setting because it showed that these were true friends and good people who care about him.

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While at Sonic - which I commonly & incorrectly refer to as Sonic's - one brought up the common realization of "how far you've come in a year." I sat there, knowing that I've been thinking about this past year quite a bit lately. He named people in the group who he knew at that point and who he didn't and everyone took a turn at this over top of each other. I wondered how many of those names have come to take someone else's spot.

All of these people I know who I call friends - I didn't even know they existed six months ago. One of them I even had a class with but he doesn't remember. I am thankful for these people. These people who teach me things daily even though I may not see it until reflection or drunken revelations.

But I think of those who have come and gone in my life and how difficult it is to picture their faces or imagine their voices. It's always a little low or has the wrong timbre. Haha, like trying to remember the first line of the 2nd verse in that song last night (Which is: "When it rains will you walk beside me." Oh the things remembered in the shower.) I had to make it up. Like I do with you. The unfamiliar things which used to be so familiar will never be again. And this isn't all bad as that's the way life works. The trick is to not forget it all but remember those who leave a mark and touch your soul.

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I've come a hell of a long way in these twelve months. I've been in places that I never thought I would. I've done things that I said I never would. I am where I never thought I'd be. But I am happy. Each day J.A. makes me laugh as if I'm drunk, to which he replies in a way that only he can, "Are you drunk?" And I just laugh more and even have to question if I am or not.

I have laughed and cried with people that I may never even talk to again. But it's not all sad. I just hope that they remember me as a part of their past like I remember them.

But days turn to weeks and weeks to months. Leaves fall and rise back to their place. Old men close their eyes and babies cry. Things come to an end - good and bad. And life goes on. You can't blame mishaps of your life on others. Just watch your own skin but don't be afraid to bleed. Because it's in those moments that we realize we're human. This at least we've learned.

Two Song Debut.

I've noticed this new voice in my songs. It's one that has slowly been coming out over time but I find it to be near maturity now. Maybe that's not for me to decide. Here's a couple rough videos of two songs I've recently written. The lyrics are there, but you'll have to go back one entry to find some.

I found that using a video is the easiest way to get an immediate result, it does however removed the option of editing sound and such - which isn't that great. Oh well; it'll do for now... Enjoy.

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Had a wife back home

I was on my way to see her

And my baby boy

He was only three years old

But a man came in

He didn't want our things

For what he took that night

I would give it all away

I knelt down and picked them up

Wash the blood from your hands

Lay down in the river

Oh my sweet child

I will deliver

Once the blood turned cold

He went to load his gun

"I will hunt this man

No matter how far he runs!"

He searched around for months

Leaving no stone unturned

But everywhere he went

There was nothing to be learned

And as the man sat by a fire he looked over his shoulder all night

He held his head in his hands and he cried, knowing full well he deserved to die

"What have I done? I am no man! But You, You are the great I Am

Who so ever believes in you, Oh God, My God, Oh God, I do!"

Wash the blood from your hands

Lay down in the river

Oh my sweet child

I will deliver

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A Man & His String.

I've made lists before. Lists of movies and things to do. It seems that each list just moves from person to person and grows and grows. I know that one day this huge list will be spent on a person who truly matters and is worth all of the time and energy that it will take to see thru. But I don't just mean my time and energy but theirs. I look forward to that day of being equal with someone and on the same page.

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There are many artists whose lyrics truly inspire me and touch me in some way. Maybe it's the message or the words used to get their point across. I think of Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou and David Bazan, Ben Gibbard and Damien Jurado especially. There's just something in how they string words together. Andy Hull of Manchester Orchestra has an amazing gift and making lines that hit you with the weight of a thousand winds. That's something I strive to do.

I went to see some of my friends' band the other day and it was an acoustic show. Zach, the frontman, said how different acoustic shows are for the fact that you hear the lyrics more and some of the emotion that is at the heart of the song. And I realized that that is why I like a lot of the music I do and write the music that I write - not to say that I wouldn't love to write songs that have a full band and can be experienced that way. I love to hear the heart behind a song and the message of being human and the feelings and thoughts that we have - honestly.

David Bazan writes some of the greatest songs about Christianity and the doubts that we have and the struggle within that lifestyle. It just seems so real.

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This is a song that I wrote today I'm going to let it sit and evolve for a few days and then I hope to have a demo of some kind - along with a couple other freshly written songs - up on my myspace. In other news that way, a friend and I are hoping to start working more on that so perhaps some changes are in motion.

I had a dream last night about man who couldn't find His thread

Yeah, He searched thru the cupboards; He looked under His bed

He walked down the road retracing each and every step

The way He watched the ground you'd have thought that it had held on His head

He traveled all the land until He reached the end

Then He took to a boat to try and find that strand

With pain in His eyes; determination in His heart

You could see He would search all His days - nowhere being too far

But I don't know how it ended, I'm not sure where it went

But I like to think He found it, Yeah, a Man and His thread

I wonder where it was, probably somewhere you'd least expect

And I know that He held it like He loved it and He'll love it til the end

I woke in the morning to the sound of rain on my roof

And that's when it hit me, everyone's got something to lose

And that's what we are to You and that's why I believe

That I'm Your string and You're searching for me

Listening To The Taunts & The Shouts of Celebration Wine.

Over the span of my life, I've experienced many late night conversations. Some are similar to others and some sit at the top of the list and shine. Falling asleep on the telephone that stretched hundreds of miles, laying in a field while holding hands to watch the sun rise before going to bed or sitting up passing a cigarette late into the night - whatever it is or has been, they've all contained that piece of life that can't be found anywhere else.

I've always loved having honest conversations with people. It's important to get to that level with each other - with people of different backgrounds, goals, paths, and agendas. It's lead me to form opinions that I'd have never gotten to on my own and to break down preconceived notions about people or ideas.

I don't think that I could stand to not share my heart and mind. It's one of the first things I measure a relationship by. It's what I count true friends by - those people who even thru disagreement don't reject but accept ideas that are not their own.

People come and people go - it's part of life. Sometimes the distances which separate are great whether by land or walls. Regardless, there are people who have fallen out of my path and it's fine by me because whatever brought us together is gone. Desires to maintain anything out of image or good feelings of old times are no more. I'm not sure of the point. It's not of bad feelings but a realization of differences and walls that prevent connection - or reconnection. I guess that I see a relationship built around broken glass and mazes of untouchable objects found in museums isn't worth my time.

But with the same breath I celebrate the relationships I have! Oh the laughs I've had in recent days with tears and beers flowing and the spilling of blood! How I would not trade them for an ounce of the past. I would not give up sitting in the third floor apartment balcony watching the black men play basketball as the moths dance around the light. We laugh and talk about girls and the dumb tricks we've done for them - just to bat their eyes in our direction. Of the places we wish to see and things to do. Of what boils our blood and makes our hair stand on end. True friends are these who I have found for we speak the same language. And for those of you who are lost to me, so be it.

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I look at my life now and I can't say that I'm pleased with where I'm at in every aspect. I can't say that I've done my best or tried my hardest in areas that matter - there's always room for improvement. But in others, I know I have. I am content. Perhaps I'm just floating right now, like a feather, or a dandelion seed blowing in the wind. I'll land when it's time and until then I'll abide and rejoice.

The Crew Compartment's Breaking Up.

Things have been a little up and down over the last few days. I'm sitting upstairs while the majority of my friends are off watching the new Harry Potter movie. I'm not quite up to date on them all and don't have the funds for a night on the town. Well, so maybe I do. Just not for that night. But rest assured as I have obtained a copy of each film for personal review.

But Dan and Scott are making loud music downstairs so I have my headphones on as I listen to The Long Winters' fantastic EP titled Ultimatum.

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I've faced some things lately. To be completely honest, small doses of a feeling I wish to never feel again. I think it's just my nature to fall too fast and too hard. But oh well, at least I know I'm alive. And it's not only bad that comes from these times. I've owned up to some things and...well I've stepped up to bat. It feels good. It feels good to be alive.

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I hate this, this inability to cross over a line and say what I want to. Worrying about feelings and images is just...ridiculous. There's some need to think things are a certain way but to be completely honest they aren't. If that wall weren't there I would say how hurt I was. Not that it was a deep one but enough to grow some clouds. I'd make known the feeling that it's time to mark out some states on my map. But do I really mean that? No. I don't. It'd be said as a sarcastic quip and that's all. But I still wish I could say that - among many other things. As therapeutic as writing is for me, I hate holding it back. Sometimes it doesn't seem real unless it's out. And writing it in a book for myself doesn't always seem like enough. So I don't mean to rub noses in the dirt - I just mean to speak my mind.

But I would also say how wonderful the last week was for me and that it resurrected my belief in happiness with another person. And I have you to thank for that - among many other things.

And The Times Before That, Well, I Was Crazy.

I find it absolutely amazing and sobering and delightful how unexpected life can be. Sometimes that works against us. And after it goes that way one too many times it seems that it'll never go back to the right. And it's dumbfounding how once you quit looking for something and almost don't care the very thing you've wanted all along pokes its head from a cloud and beckons.

Good things are coming. But easy doesn't come with good. In fact, I'd say that difficult comes with good. Afterall, everything good is worth working for. And I'm happy to work for this.

And to think I never thought I'd feel this way again. What a schmuck I was. I had almost forgotten what it was like and it is good.

Can You Feel It? I Feel It. There's Something In The Air.

I haven't written in a long time. It almost feels odd to sit and write here and try to search for words. There isn't anything I've really thought out and felt I needed to write about. Now that I think about it I can't really remember what I've thought about lately. I think I've just been living. But it's been fun. I've enjoyed spending time with friends. Most all of my time has been spent with them lately.

Tonight I'm stuck at home cos my car is still in the shop from a little accident I had. So even though the passenger side door won't open and I'll be on my donut for a couple days - I can't wait to have it back. But then my excuses for not looking for a job are fewer.

I do feel that I'm ready for more. But I'm still feeling lost. Not really lost...but misplaced. I've been in my house for two months and I still feel like I'm living out of a suitcase.

But life still feels good. I guess I haven't posted that actually, as I deleted a draft that I had been working on. But it does. I've made decisions that I stand by and feel that they were the best for me. I've let people down and hurt people but it was necessary. Life can't be all about making others feel better - it has to be about you sometimes. And I think I'm at the "me" point of my life. I like it. I've been feeling lately that I need more in my life. A place to call home and be a part of - and that is slowly happening. For that, I am grateful.

It's odd to think of where things were and how they've been recently and how there is no pattern to predict the future with. Next week it could all be different. But that is life, and I'd rather live it not knowing and being overturned from time to time than seeing it unfolded before me.

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Well, I've been kidnapped by Ashley Kate and Kristi so I have to get to work on this puzzle now while Kristi makes us brownies to eat as we watch Pride & Prejudice. Yep, this is my life and I'm very pleased.

How Am I To Be?

So it's Three AM and I 'm posting mostly out of the fact that I haven't posted for sometime. I'm sitting on my couch watching Eric & Zach play Halo so this isn't the most inspired of posts but anyway...

It's been a busy few weeks for me. School is out for the summer and I can't take the classes I planned on due to lack of funds and changes in financial aid. I see this as a blessing as I am completely burnt out on classes. I think it'll do me good to sit around being worthless and simply enjoying life - whether it be recording music, telling myself that I'll read a book or any other meaningless-yet-pleasurable activity.

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I just moved into a house and it's so awesome. Sure the door knob is broken, the shower has a trick to make it work, and there's no dishwasher - it feels real. And I love it. I especially love the air mattress I've been sleeping on as it's a thousand times better than the used mattress I had before.

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Lately I've found myself either extremely joyful or empty of feeling. It's weird. Everyone man who has ever been in a relationship has been asked one of the most annoying questions ever: "what are you thinking right now?" And I'm here to say that it is completely possible to think absolutely nothing. I don't know if I ever truly believed it. "Nothing" was just an answer to avoid a conversation about some ridiculous thought that runs thru a man's head from time to time that isn't worth talking about at all or to just avoid a conversation completely. But I've caught myself actually thinking about absolutely nothing from time to time. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It doesn't really bother me but I wonder if I shouldn't be thinking about stuff - I don't even know what - just something!

But I guess all in all it doesn't bother me all that much. Sometimes a person needs to just sit and think about nothing and not try to psychoanalyze every happening. To just be. To simply enjoy life - I won't even say "to the fullest." But just to enjoy life. And I think to enjoy life you have to be who you want to be - not who other people want you to be.

Time you enjoy wasting , was not wasted.

- John Lennon.

Double Blind.

I had to record the songs that I wrote for my Commercial Songwriting class.

The CD is due tomorrow so I'm up at 4 am finishing them up. I fully intended on singing and playing into one mic but decided to go a little fancy. So these are the results - A little rough but nice enough.

Please be gentle because, as I already mentioned, I recorded these between 12 and 4 am with only one or two takes.

So check out: www.myspace.com/alexskidmoremusic.

There's more coming...I promise.

To whet your earbuds, We've got a song in the final mixing that includes Cello and Sephra (who can also be heard on Reconnect The Wires).

Enjoy!

Happiness Writes White.

I am naturally drawn to writing whenever I'm stressed out or upset about something. It's how I find my way out of the cloudiness. Writing out my thoughts and expressing those feelings helps me figure it out or at least get it off of my chest.
So it's very fitting that I haven't been writing lately, as things have been so good lately. It feels that this semester I have continuously met positive influences that have also brought along opportunities.
I finally feel like I know what I'm doing. I've declared my minor and mapped out the path I'm taking in my major. My next semester of classes looks to be a great one.
I guess, for the first time in a long time I am happy. There are things that I wish were different but I am happy.

But I think that I avoid writing when I feel this way because I feel that I have nothing to say. Nothing of value. It becomes more of an update to my life rather than something I've learned or am learning. And I know that we learn thru every experience - good and bad - but I feel that things pop out more during the dark times. It's during those times that we are tested and kept on our toes and we learn the most about ourselves. We learn what obstacles we can overcome and to what depths we stoop. It's at these crossroads that we find out who we really are. We face our mortality and humanity and that is what I find worth writing about.
But I must remind myself that life is good; and while it is filled with despair and beauty within that, there is this other kind that is just beautiful. And to truly enjoy life, that needs to be admired just as much.

One Day Without Shoes.

Would You?

Alright, so I wrote a song earlier in the week and meant to post the lyrics. I'm currently in the midst of recording a demo of it which will be up once completed. I will consider it one of my favorite songs until I write something else that is better.
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Would you watch the sunrise with me
In a field with no one around
See the light in your hair, golden brown

We could lie in the grass on our backs
And rearrange the clouds with our minds
With each color, oh we could paint a whole new life

As the world comes out of her slumber
I know that there's something so much more beautiful
So would you let me look in your eyes
To see the light that lights up my sky

When it rains will you walk beside me
Thru the dark in a land we don't know
Down roads we swore we would never go

We can cry about last summer
Look back on our time together
And wonder why we ever said goodbye

There's no such thing as forever
Just as flowers die, so will you and I
But don't you worry, Death is the only
One who will ever take me from your side

Would you watch the stars shine with me
If you're cold you can wear my sweater
We'll close our eyelids together, yeah

The Gift of Memory.

Photographs are tricky. I used to be into photography. It was definitely a hobby, as my camera was always with me. I would stop along the road to take a picture of a field or a sunset or I'd trek thru my parent's neighborhood thru the snow. It went like this for a year or two, but then it stopped. I'm not sure exactly why it did. Maybe it was just a phase that my friends and I went thru and once one of us started losing interest, we all did. It could also have to do with the fact that lenses are expensive and I didn't have money to upgrade my equipment.

I remember saying that it was because I couldn't find that beauty anymore. Whatever it was that I found in photography was no longer there. I had captured everything I wanted to and couldn't find anything else. I had already walked thru my neighborhood three or four times and gone out around the city with my friends. I'd taken pictures of my grandma's huge amount of flowers more than once. I felt like I was in a rut - I needed to branch out and take pictures that were different from every other one I had taken. Well, I never really did and my camera gathered dust. Once in awhile I would pull it out and take horrible shots because I didn't remember how to use it. My sister's graduation was a casualty of that.

But the trip to Florida inspired me. Not in some gradios way, but enough to take it. I took pictures of the guys playing - and it took me a little while to remember lighting settings and technics I had learned along the way. But I couldn't wait for the ocean. I could take pictures of the ocean forever. I have hundreds of pictures of flowers and clouds that all look the same to anyone but me.
So today, I went thru a hundred or two of the four hundred pictures I took last week. I haven't touched the band pictures; mostly, I looked at the pictures that I went looking for. I came up with about five, which are the ones lining this post.
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Back to my original statement: Photographs are tricky. There is so much emotion and nostalgia attached to them. Even if there was love - it can bring pain. They are reminders of what once was and how different it is now. Those pictures are easier to not see; but to hide or burn. There is something to be said for remembering and learning from the past, but there's also something to trying to forget it completely.
Even going thru these few, I remember what I thought about out on the beach that morning. Being alone and - for once - enjoying it. Seeing how big and powerful this world is and how small and weak I am. Feeling the ocean breeze and mist on my face. I was at peace that morning as the sun rose and I felt its warmth on my face.

Looking back from today, there's a big difference. I feel these walls closing in on me and all I can find to hold them back is smaller than I am wide. Six weeks...I think I can handle that. And then I can breath, take a step back, and figure this thing out. If only it'd be that easy. At least it will be the break that I've needed for eight months - which I only got a taste of this past week.

Suffered a swift defeat.

I'll endure countless repeats.

The gift of memory's an awful curse.

With age it just gets much worse.

Then The Rest Be Damned.

I realize that this is very past due. I'm quite sorry for that. But this is part four - the finale - of my posts from the trip to Florida last week. It required a little more and I couldn't find the time. Well, I've found it.
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Wed. March 11th, 2009. 12:50 PM (CDT).

We're back on the road, after our wonderful stop at Whataburger. We've dubbed it Weezerburger due to the similarity of the logos.

Here I was at the end of America - no more land - and now there was nowhere to go but back.

We've the windows down and we're rolling down the road; a country road with fields and woods. We're in our routine spells: Andrew is driving with Dan riding shotgun. Andy is watching 30Rock on his iPhone and Devin and Eric are listening to music - as am I. Their dancing about is entertaining and I usually join in. We're having fun. This trip has been great. We've had a few little fits and many more laughs.

I finished part one of On The Road. It felt right to finish the first part all on one trip. He left home when I left and returned when I did. 50 bucks went a lot further back then and hitchhiking was it's own club.
I found it interesting that he would usually settle into a town for awhile - not just a few days but weeks or more. He'd get a job and find a niche. But there always came a time when he felt the need to move on. A few of these times, I was right there with him. I was urging him to move and ready to pick up my bag along side of him. But there was one time where I begged him not to go; I pleaded with him to stay. It was right before he went home; back to New York.
He had met this girl named Terry on a bus. And as he described her and the time that he spent with her and how much they loved each other, I found myself wanting him to stay with her. But that time came and I cursed him. How could he give up something so good because of the road? Maybe he finds her again, maybe not. I don't know yet. But I have a hard time seeing a reason to end something good - whatever it may be - for what seems to not matter.
But he left and he went back home. I guess sometimes those things just happen.


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One Great Red Line.

Sat. March 7th, 2009. 6:14 PM (EST).

Chapter two is only three pages but really sets up what follows for the rest of the book - at least of what I've read up to this point.
Kerouac explains how he's set out on his adventure to meet up with his friends in Denver and he has mapped out an easy route that has him on the same road for most all of his trip. But circumstances arise and his plans fall apart. He's left in the rain, alone, and cursing himself.
And life is that way. I'm reminded of Death Cab's song "What Sarah Said."

And it came to me then, that every plan
Is a tiny prayer to father time.

Life has two points - a beginning and an end. But there are many paths that connect those two points. And everyone must figure out their own way. Some are easier than others and others only look that way. But regardless of difficulty, we take one and we walk.
But every path ends - maybe not until the very end, but they all end eventually. And sometimes by the time we realize that a path has become overgrown, we are left standing in the middle of the woods trying to figure out up from down. And in that desperation and time of being lost we question who we are, what we are, where we are going, and even our ability to get there. But we must keep moving; we must keep walking - even when it hurts, because thru all of that, we stumble onto other paths. And each path is different - but we must not forget the paths we've been on. We may regret having ever set foot to it or perhaps we'd die to tread that familiar ground again. But it is our time on these paths that shape us; that teach us who we are.

...I wanted to go west and here I've been all day and into the night going up and down, north and south, like something that can't get started.
It was my dream that was screwed up, the stupid hearthside idea that it would be wonderful to follow one great red line across America instead of trying various roads and routes.

I bet in the end he thanked the Lord that his great red line failed. He saw more of the country and met people like Eddie and Montana Slim and countless others that I have yet to meet. Perhaps it was more difficult and took longer than he intended, but I guarantee that those country roads held more life. And so I am thankful that Route 6 had no traffic on that rainy night one July.
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I'll end this entry with this:
At the end of chapter four, Jack says goodbye to Mississippi Gene:

"I hope you get where you're going, and be happy when you do."
"I always make out and move along one way or the other," said Gene.
It was sad to see them go, and I realized that I would never see any of them again, but that's the way it was.

Ocala to Destin:

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The Pearl.

Sat. March 7th, 2009. 3:41 PM (EST).

We've made it to Florida and have only made one stop for gas and food. We've all gotten to the point of putting on head phones to listen to music or watch TV shows; We're reading or air drumming to whatever it is we're listening to. Actually, only Eric does the drumming - but it isn't really drumming...I think you'll have to ask him what it is exactly. Once in a while we break out of our spell to answer a text message or make a joke about a sign along the road, all the while Andrew plugs on with driving.

And after a few attempts to read that have failed due to my ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, I have successfully read a chapter of a book I have read countless times. Part 1 Chapter 1 of On The Road by jack Kerouac. I borrowed this book from my friend Jared awhile back and started it. But each time I started it had an interval of about a month so I just started over each time. I've since given his copy back and bought a copy of my own - two in fact. But one was intended as a gift that will never be given.

The last line of this chapter caught my head - much like it has each time I've read it:

Somewhere along the line I knew there'd be girls, visions, everything; somewhere along the line the pearl would be handed to me.

I have read further on thru this - only to chapter 6 at the most. But what is this pearl he talks of? I assume that it's different for everyone - and that's why this line fits everyone. I've been into books lately that have been about hitting the road and having an adventure. I read one by Don Miller, Through Painted Deserts, and am half way thru a book titled Wild At Heart - about how men are driven for adventure. And after I read Miller I knew that I wanted to read On The Road. I actually went thru a phase of buying every book of Kerouac's that I came across. I started one called The Dharma Bums but it fell to the wayside. I intend to read it one day too. I intend to do a lot of things that may never happen. We'll see.
But it was from reading these books that led me to crave an adventure - something to do that was challenging. My friends back home and I are planning a camping trip when I go home in June and my father and I are planning a trip out west to explore the desert together. This road trip may not be an adventure like that, but it's something. It's the road - and the road is therapeutic. I find it calming. And I think it stems back to why I started on long drives and what that meant to me.

And I don't know what I'm looking for, what I need. I have ideas and I have desires - some of which may never come to pass. But I know that somewhere along the line the pearl will be handed to me - whatever it may be. And I would like to feel prepared and equipped to receive it well when that time comes.

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The Taste of Blood.

Sat. March 7th, 2009. 10:22 AM (EST).

We hit the road around 7:20 AM (CDT). Actually, according to the clock in Andrew's Tahoe, it was 7:19 and I can tell you that for a fact. I pay attention to numbers. But I will most always round them one way or the other so that you don't know that. I suppose that I find it more "normal" to not have a mind for time or numbers like that. And in no way do I mean that I'm good with numbers - math is a foreign language that I stumble thru. Much like saying that I speak french when I use works like rendezvous or buffet. But I always remember them. If you call me, chances are I will know exactly when you called me and if you ask what time it is, then I know exactly - but I will make it sound like an estimation. I pay attention to a lot of details - it just comes thru more with numbers. That is one of my quirks.

Eric, oh Eric, he brought his xbox and a TV screen so that we can play Call of Duty in the car. It is awesome...to say the least. However, it is very difficult to aim when bouncing around in the back seat. But I think my favorite part of the trip thus far, is Devin falling asleep next to me and hogging the entire bench. Oh well, at least he's cute. Oh, and there was the time that we hadn't even gotten out of Murfreesboro and were flagged down cos our trailer door was open or something. I wasn't really paying attention so I'm not completely sure of the details.

So right now...I have no idea where we are. I think we've gotten thru Atlanta, Georgia, but I have no idea as I have fallen asleep at various times. This is partly because I fall asleep like a baby when I am in the car. It also has to do with the fact that I stayed up all night erasing and filling my iPod. That was stupid. It's to the point where it is becoming very difficult to fit an adequate and representative amount of my 70 GB music collection onto my 30 GB iPod. I'm near time for an upgrade - either that or the bands I like need to stop making albums. But anyway, we are on our way to Orlando. I'll let ya know if we make it. Also, you can follow all of our Twitters at Andrewadamsonline.com


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