2006

What an unexpected year.

Note to self...

Don't wear slippery socks in a house with stairs. Ever.

Click my heels three times...

I am crawling out of my skin to get to Michigan. I am so ready for school, for having friends around, to just have a routine, busy full days, doing things I like, hanging out with people I like. But that's not all. I'm in the process of moving again, and it's making me crazy. In the past year, I've moved from Anderson to Jersey, Jersey to England, back from England again, and now on to Michigan. Four major moves in the past twelve months. Half the reason I'm considering staying in Ann Arbor over the summer is because I don't want to go through moving again. Every time I've moved some where in the past year, I've known it's not going to be for long. And I am *so* excited about Michigan, not because of all the fun times and the academics (taking a semester out of school will make a nerd out of anyone) or because we have a kick butt football team (because I would feel this way no matter which school I would be starting out this year), but because I know I'm going to be there for a while. I can settle finally. It can sorta become home.

I wonder...

what is it that keeps everyone up at night?

I wish I could write about that.

Carry me...

January 1, I've got a lot of this on my mind
I'm looking at my body through a new spy satellite
Try to lift a finger, but I don't think I can make the call
So tell me if I move, 'cause I don't feel anything at all

So Carry Me,
I'm just a dead man
Lying on the carpet
Can't find a heartbeat
Make me breathe,
I want to be a new man
Tired of the old one
Out with the old plan

I woke up from a dream about an empty funeral
But is was better than the party full of people I don't really know
They've got hearts to break and burn
Dirty hands to feel the earth
There's something in my veins,
But I can't seem to make it work… won't work

So Carry Me,
I'm just a dead man
Lying on the carpet
Can't find a heartbeat
Make me breathe,
I want to be a new man
Tired of the old one
Out with the old plan

Can you find a beat inside of me?
Any pulse?
Getting worse?
Any pulse?
Getting worse?
Inside of me, can you find a beat?

Carry Me,
I'm just a dead man
Lying on the carpet
Can't find a heartbeat
Make me breathe,
I want to be a new man
Tired of the old one

- "Carry Me" Jars of Clay

What's your boogeyman? Mine's been following me around for a few days...

Artists are not inherently enlightened. A lesson I should have learned several years ago.

The thing about artists is, they think they've found the higher calling on their lives. Artists are people who look around at all the bs that's happening in everyone else's lives, they can see the way people are piddling away their days, recognizing that the climb for the all american family and executive job will only lead to disappoint. The ironic thing is, they think they've found something better. Creating art that explores and implodes the typical ideals of happiness and contentment becomes a sort of corporate goal. But in the end, how is it any different from the material-focused lives we are deconstructing? The pursuit of art is just as dangerous as the pursuit of the corner office. We switch fancy cars and carribean vacations for best seller lists and fan letters that tell us we've touched souls. Artists are just as falliable as they people they observe falling. They can get so caught up in examining other people's lives, they miss the lives they're meant to be living.

"Life is more important than art. I'm probably one of the most pompous artist you can find, but life is more important. We tend to forget that... [Writing] the greatest book ever versus an evening spent with someone you love is not comparable."
- Zach Helm, Creative Screenwriting

When the Stars go Blue

Dancin' when the stars go blue
Dancin' when the evening fell
Dancin' in your wooden shoes
In a wedding gown

Dancin' out on 7th street
Dancin' through the underground
Dancin' with the marionette
Are you happy now?

Where do you go when you're lonely
Where do you go when you're blue
Where do you go when you're lonely
I'll follow you
When the stars go blue
stars go blue
stars go blue
stars go blue

Laughin' with your pretty mouth
Laughin' with your broken eyes
Laughin' with your lover's tongue
In a lullaby

Where do you go when you're lonely
Where do you go when you're blue
Where do you go when you're lonely
I'll follow you
When the stars go blue
stars go blue
stars go blue
stars go blue