Welcome to Cardboard City

In a desperate attempt to reignite my social life, I've given myself to flightful fancies. This, of course, comes at a time of relative change. A change that may or may not be drastic to others, but significant enough to send those crazy chicken prophet teachings through my head. I embrace the change, but my genetic makeup keeps me from completing The Letting Go. I find ways to manage it in a healthy manner, but it manages to inconvienence me during stressful times.

I keep running into old acquaintances in odd places. For example, I saw someone in the ice cream aisle. I saw my freshman roommate at the gym. As I type this, I realize it is no large feat as Provo is not the largest place nor does it claim many diverse places to see someone socially. Especially in the summer.

In addition to this physical location change, work is throwing many new experiences and challenges my way. My coworkers are a joy to work with, and I feel somehow indebted to almost each one of them for the great atmosphere that allows me to me. With the minor exception, they are more brilliant, more sincere, and more loyal people than I can muster in my angry early 20s.

My musical education continues down unexpected avenues as I find myself into quite an Internet seeker. I've taken it to the near most extreme edge of the definition of a hobby as it is the most intriguing cultural experience to me. Where else can I gain an appreciation for a group of 5 Japanese hippies that I would know no other way? Or perhaps the group of Brazilian revolutionaries who would hide their politics of the 1960s through thinly veiled romantic metaphors? Never before my love affair with music (don't tell the wife) would I gain such a positive and enriching view towards this all-too-easy-to-pin-ugly-on society? While the act of record collecting and musical exploration can often be a insulated, ego-driven activity, I hope to be able to use my own experience to bring the light to people's eyes when they hear something I play that they never they were born to love.

I will continue to make mixes and hone my skills that way, but I hope composition continues to treat me well. I've written 2 or 3 tracks I could proudly put my name to. I don't know what I want to do with them. I need to come up with a plan of where I want my music to go (i.e. publicly through record labels, intimately through close friends, or safely on my shelf only to be heard by Capree and myself).

Godspeed, discipline! I'm better for it. And Blogger is getting tired of my attempts to reignite my sad weBlogs to publically make my thoughts known (est. 2001).