Neither Here Nor There

Prayers of Kierkegaard

2011-05-10T01:20:00.000-07:00

Whenever you have 18 minutes of spare time, listen to this piece of music. It may bring you to tears if you are a lover of God, music, or Kierkegaard, the latter of which I may have recently become.

I have shortened youtube videos so they wouldn't take up the whole page. The audio is the only thing that matters. You should read the lyrics below as you listen. The volume will need to be adjusted throughout because it gets very loud and quiet.

O Thou Who art unchangeable, Whom nothing changes,

May we find our rest and remain at rest in Thee unchanging.

Thou art moved and moved in infinite love by all things:

the need of a sparrow, even this moves Thee;

and what we scarcely see, a human sigh,

this moves Thee, O infinite Love!

But nothing changes Thee, O Thou unchanging.

May we find rest and remain at rest.

Thou art moved and moved in infinite love for all things; O Thou unchanging.

May we find rest and remain at rest.

Thou art moved and moved in infinite love for all things:

the need of a sparrow, even this moves Thee

and what we scarcely see, a human sigh,

this moves Thee, O infinite Love!

But nothing changes Thee, O Thou unchanging.

Lord Jesus Christ Who suffered all life long that I, too, might be saved,

and Whose suffering still knows no end.
This, too, wilt thou endure: saving and redeeming me,

this patient suffering of me with whom Thou hast to do, I, who so often go astray.

Lord Jesus Christ! Lord Jesus Christ!

Father in Heaven, well we know that it is Thou that giveth both to will and to do,

that also longing, when it leads us to renew the fellowship with our Savior and Redeemer, is from Thee.

Father in Heaven, longing is Thy gift.

But when longing lays hold of us, oh that we might lay hold of the longing,

then it would carry us away, that we also might give ourselves up.

Father in Heaven, when Thou art near to summon us, that we also in prayer might stay near Thee.

When Thou in the longing dost offer us the highest good, oh that we might hold it fast!

Father in Heaven! Father in Heaven!

Father in Heaven, hold not our sins up against us

But hold us up against our sins,

So that the thought of Thee should not remind us

Of what we have committed,

But of what Thou didst forgive;

Not how we went astray,

But how Thou didst save us!

Here is some extra information on the piece:

Samuel Osborne Barber II (March 9, 1910 - January 23, 1981) was an American composer of orchestral, opera, choral, and piano music. His Adagio for Strings is his most popular composition and widely considered a masterpiece of modern classical music.

Prayers of Kierkegaard, op. 30 is a one-movement extended cantata written by Samuel Barber between 1942 and 1954. The piece is comprised of four main subdivisions and is based on prayers by Søren Kierkegaard. It is written for chorus, large orchestra, soprano solo and incidental tenor and alto solos.

Samuel Barber began writing the Prayers of Kierkegaard with the commission of the Koussevitzky Music Foundation in 1942, but because of World War II and other interruptions, only completed the work 12 years later. It was premiered on December 3, 1954 by the Boston Symphony Orchestra, the Cecilia Society Chorus, and soprano Leontyne Price, for whom the piece was actually written, with Charles Munch conducting. The piece was given its New York premiere four days later, and both concerts were received with critical acclaim.

Samuel Barber chose a selection of prayers by philosopher and theologian Søren Kierkegaard, derived from his journals, as well as his books The Unchangeableness of God and Christian Discourses. These works were harsh discourses of the vague practices of the Danish church, and were a direct reflection of Barber's orthodox Presbyterian-Quaker background. In direct correlation with his Hermit Songs (1953), Barber began to use sacred texts to show the realistic but extremely hopeful outlook of American Christianity, especially the Protestantism of this period. Barber once said when speaking about the piece, "One finds here three basic truths: imagination, dialectic, and religious melancholy. The truth Soren Kierkegaard sought after was a truth which was a truth for me." This quotation depicts his desire to show once and for all that he was a good Presbyterian and also that he could depict this through concise musical ideas, simplifying the texts.

Prayers of Kierkegaard is an unequivocal religious statement that Samuel Barber divided into 4 distinct parts, each representing a different prayer. The first section speaks of God the Unchangeable and begins in an unaccompanied chant performed by unaccompanied male voices in a Gregorian chant style. It then continues with the orchestra responding to the chant in imitative counterpoint until the chorus and orchestra join in climax on the words "Thou Art Unchanging," repeating the theme of the text.

In the second section, which is recited in the first person, the soprano solo receives the melody from an oboe solo. This minimalism, however, is changed in the third section that reflects Russian chorus writing in the thickness of the lines. This prayer grows in both the chorus and the orchestra, until it expands into a dance which ends with the sempre forte "Father In Heaven" by the chorus.

The fourth section then gradually loses momentum, becoming distant memories of the bells and strings that dominated moments before. The four part chorale that ends the piece reflects the beauty and hopeful nature of Barber's religious views.

The piece maintains a constant momentum through many different mediums and musical ideas. Barber's deciphering of the text and reflection of said text in the music is what makes this piece so extraordinary. The composer was also quoted as saying, "one finds his three basic traits of imagination, dialectic and religious melancholy. The truth he sought after was a truth for me, one that demanded sacrifice and personal response. This is one of Samuel Barber's most personal works and it is shown though this amazing music as "the prayers Barber chose to set were taken from Kierkegaards journals and sermons, and reflect both Kierkegaards and Barbers belief in the power of Gods redemption through affirmative human deeds and personal self-awareness."

And here are some of the prayers that I think Barber drew from:

Move in Infinite Love~Soren Kierkegaard
You who are unchangeable, whom nothing changes! You who are unchangeable in love, precisely for our welfare, not submitting to any change: may we too will our welfare, submitting ourselves to the discipline of Your unchangeableness, so that we may in unconditional obedience find our rest and remain at rest in Your unchangeableness. You are not like us; if we are to preserve only some degree of constancy, we must not permit ourselves too much to be moved, nor by too many things. You on the contrary are moved, and moved in infinite love, by all things. Even that which we humans beings call an insignificant trifle, and pass by unmoved, the need of a sparrow, even this moved You; and what we so often scarcely notice, a human sigh, this moves You, You who are unchangeable! You who in infinite love do submit to be moved, may this our prayer also move You to add Your blessing, in order that there may be brought about such a change in us who pray as to bring us into conformity with Your unchangeable will, You who are unchangeable!

The Sickness Unto Death~Soren Kierkegaard

Father in Heaven! To You the congregation often makes its petition for all who are sick and sorrowful, and when someone among us lies ill, alas, of mortal sickness, the congregation sometimes desires a special petition; grant that we may each one of us become in good time aware what sickness it is which is the sickness unto death and aware that we are all of us suffering from this sickness.

O Lord Jesus Christ, who came to earth to heal them that suffer from this sickness, form which, alas, we all suffer, but from which You are able to heal only those who are conscious they are sick in this way; help us in this sickness to hold fast to You, to the end that we may be healed of it.

O God the Holy Spirit, who comes to help us in this sickness if we honestly desire to be healed; remain with us so that for no single instance we may to our own destruction shun the Physician, but may remain with Him - delivered from sickness. For to be with Him is to be delivered from our sickness, and when we are with Him we are saved from all sickness.

The Promise and the Pain~Soren Kierkegaard

Father in Heaven! We know indeed that seeking is never without its promise, how then could we fail to seek You, the author of all promises and the giver of all good gifts! We know well that the seeker does not always have to wander far afield since the more scared the object of his search, the nearer it is to him; and if he seeks You, O God, You are of all things most near!

But we know also that the seeking is never without its pains and temptations, how then would there not be fear in seeking You, who are mighty! Even he who trusts in thought to his kinship with You does not venture forth without fear upon those crucial decisions of thought where, through doubt, he seeks to trace Your presence in the wise order of existence or, through despair, he seeks to trace You in the obedience under providence of rebellious events. Those, whom You call Your friends, who walk in the light of Your countenance, they, too, not without trembling, seek the meeting of friendship with You who alone are mighty. People of prayer who love with their whole heart - it is not without anxiety that they venture into the conflict of prayer with their God. The dying man, for whom You shift the scene, does not relinquish the temporal without a shudder when You call him. Not even the child of woe, for whom the world has nothing but suffering, flee to You without fear, You who do not merely alleviate, but are all in all! How then should the sinner dare to seek You, O God of righteousness! But therefore he seeks You, not as these others do, but seeks You in the confession of sins.

Hold Us Up Against Our Sins~Soren Kierkegaard
Father in Heaven! Hold not our sins up against us but hold us up against our sins so that the thought of You when it wakens in our soul, and each time it wakens, should not remind us of what we have committed but of what You did forgive, not of how we went astray but of how You did save us!

Friday Movie Night

2011-04-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Well, my Friday movie nights have kind of turned into Friday study nights over the years, but for old times sake, I decided to bring back my sporadic blogging tradition.

I totally nerded out when I watched this, and I haven't stopped nerding out since. Packed into this little vlog is more spirit, charm, magic, and emotion than most “real movies” Hollywood comes out with today. It almost brings a tear to your eye. Familiar scenes, old faces as well as some new ones... Brings back memories, memories of watching the 20+ hours of Lord of the Rings behind the scenes footage. It feels like a family reunion.

I loved seeing John Howe and Allen Lee shuffle into the room with their charts, busy at work, while Peter Jackson teases in his Kiwi accent “Shy artists, oh dear, oh dear.” I adore Martin Freeman. He is the only man alive that it doesn’t seem weird to call adorable. He is just adorable. He was born to play Bilbo Baggins. And then there's Richard Armitage in his classy jeans, trying to give an inspirational speech for the opening day. If you fangirls are swooning now, wait till you see him in a dwarf beard. That last bit was for Krista. For the record, I liked Martin Freeman’s suit.

And then there’s Peter Jackson's speech... I can’t decide. Is Peter Jackson the old, friendly wizard you can trust to lead you through the world of Middle Earth, casting scenes of enchantment? I certainly trust him. Sure, he pretty much ruined Faramir’s character, but wizards can’t be perfect can they? Or is he the brave Hobbit who finally accepted his fate as the one who must complete the journey he has begun? He didn’t want to, and anyone who knows a thing about this film’s recent production knows he’s been through endless roadblock after roadblock. The joke that's been going around is that this movie's cursed. But he has rose to the challenge, and I do believe he is the only one capable of completing this journey.

I'm ready to return to Middle Earth again. Are you?

The Beauty of Sufjan Stevens (and his banjo)

2011-04-04T15:00:00.000-07:00

Perfection Vs. Dependence

2011-03-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

Does anyone feel that Christianity is a burden? How many have felt through their life that Christianity is a burden? Not just a “My yoke is easy, and My burden is light” burden, but the Pharisaical burden of the law. The heavy weight of things we must do in order to obtain some sort of goal that seems so unattainable. The weight that drags us into the ground, leaving us hopeless.

I think the reason we sometimes don’t like to ask ourselves certain questions is because we are afraid of what our answer will be. We are afraid that we don’t feel the way we’re supposed to. The feelings we have might not be “doctrinally sound” and may even border on blasphemy. But if we have blasphemy in our hearts, shouldn’t we confess it to God? Shouldn’t we pour it out to Him in all of it’s honest depravity? Shouldn’t we bring it to the very center of our relationship with Him, and tell Him about its every detail, and offer it up for Him to mutilate it from our lives? Isn't that what it means to be human? Maybe you've never seen Christianity as a burden in your life. That’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with that. But I’ll be honest, because if I cannot be honest then there is no reason for me to be on this blog having this conversation with the internet.

I see the commandments of the Bible and think, if only I could follow those laws, I would learn what true life is. I would execute God's perfect plan in my life and begin the clearing of my mind to see this world as God made it to be. I see the sea of teachings the Bible contains and think, if only I could wrap my mind around these truths, if only I could shove them into my brain and come to a complete understanding of their meanings. If only I could lock myself in a room for a year and come out, having arrived at the end of all Biblical knowledge. I would unlock all the answers, and my mind would be at peace. I would know the exact course of action for every situation. I would know how to deflect every temptation. If only I could conquer every shameful sin and live free of the weight of my spiritual plagues.

But what am I saying? What would the conclusion be if all these desires were fulfilled? I wouldn't need God. I would have reached perfection, and there would be no need to fall face first on his feet, screaming for salvation from myself and this cruel world. I would be independent, free from the world's single source of life. So these desires are wrong. I am coveting something God has not promised me. But then how do I break the cycle of this broken life?

I find the this broken cycle of life to be a weight, and the prospect of breaking it an even greater weight, so I don't do it. I have never done anything in my life before that I didn’t want to do. That is a universal truth for everyone. No one does anything unless thy are either forced, or they want to. Some might deny this. They might say, "I do things I don't want to do all the time. I serve God when I don't feel like doing it." I would ask them, why do you do it if you don't feel like it? "Because it is what God commands." But why do you follow God’s commandments? "Because it's the right thing to do." But why do you do the right thing? Because you want to, because you want to please God because you love Him and you want to manifest that love you have to Him by being obedient. Because you know what he asks you to do is the best for you, and you want the best for your life. There may be various reasons you do what you do, but at the heart of every one of them is desire.

The question we must ask ourselves is not whether we are obeying God, but whether we want to obey God. It’s not so much what we do that is important, but it’s what we want to do. What do we want? When our wants are in place, then our actions follow. But just because we want something doesn't mean we want it for the right reasons or that the want is sustainable. Think of the Pharisees. They wanted to follow the law because they would benefit from their pseudo righteousness.

But remember, God never forbids us to follow Him for our own benefit. He invites us to follow Him for our benefit and He gives us incentives to follow Him as the journey progresses. The sin is not looking for our benefit, but it is looking for it in the wrong place. The Pharisees sought benefit in their own righteousness, just like I do. When I despair over this broken life, I am looking for peace and joy in what I can do to make my life free of pain. But why does God let brokenness and flaws reign in our life? Isn't it so that we will go to Him for deliverance? What is the best, to live holy, or to live by grace? If we have found complete holiness, what purpose does grace serve? If there is no grace, we are blinded to God's beauty, and life is pointless.

I cannot speak for how God originally set up this world before the fall, but if there's anything I know about how His system is set up now it's that He loves giving grace. He wants me to feed on His grace more than He wants me to be perfect. As for the wants, He will give me the wants in His time. He will give me the desire I need to live as I should. I cannot do anything to change myself. If God did not chose salvation by works, what makes me think He has chosen sanctification by works. I can do nothing. I can beg Him for help, I can pray, but that is the opposite of action. That is confessing that I can do nothing, and asking Him to do everything for me. I am completely dependent on His grace to change me internally and give me heavenly desires. So I rest, learning once again that Christianity is no burden, but it is where you fall when the burdens of your insufficiency force you to prostrate before the ultimate reality, Jehovah. If you've reached this point of my blogpost, you are either intrigued by my derangement, or familiar with these thoughts. If it's the former, I don't care, if it's the latter, peace of Christ be with you.

I worked at the parsonage today. That place is crazy, so many memories. The church is restoring it for future use. I was packing sheets of wood, wearing dirty gloves, breathing gulps of floating sawdust hanging in the air as the sun shot rays through it, rustic "meaning of life" music was celebrating in my right ear. Sometimes the most insignificant things mean the most, and the dirtiest things are really the most beautiful. So I don't care. My mind is at rest. Today I forget the existential quandaries of life. I have a God, and He's alive.

Love

2011-01-10T18:30:00.000-08:00

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” C. S. Lewis

"If it doesn't break your heart, it isn't love. If it doesn't break your heart, it's not enough. It's when you're breaking down with your insides coming out, that's when you find out what your heart is made of." Jonathan Foreman

I don't agree with all the theology of the people quoted above, but their words are true. The meaning of the word love is so lost in this current world. Love is not about gratification, but sacrifice. Those who believe that love is something only found in romantic relationships have never known love. Love is found in Jesus Christ, and only though Him can love ever be known or expressed. Love will always bring pain. Whether it is pain from someone you love wronging you, or pain from failing to live out the love you have for Christ as you want to. But love is just as necessary for psychological survival as it is for spiritual survival.

"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins." Saint John in I John 4:10

Peace on Earth

2010-12-22T12:17:00.000-08:00

World Peace

It sounds wonderful, and I’m definitely not against it. But who would ever say they were? Everyone claims to want peace, everyone likes to say that world peace is at the top of their Christmas list. For some reason people think it’s what you’re supposed to wish for this time of year. I mean, it’s Christmas. We’re all supposed to drop our weapons, hold hands and sing Christmas carols together right? Isn’t that the point of Christmas? They even have bible verses. In Chapter two of the Gospel of Luke the word peace is mentioned three times. Wasn’t the cry of the angels “on earth peace, good will toward men?”

But for some reason, everyone’s desire for “world peace” seems a bit off. I’m reminded of that whole “putting a band aid on the symptom” analogy. There is a lot of war in this world. It comes in different forms; there is strife between nations, between people and between political parties. There’s strife in families, in friendships and in churches. Then there’s internal strife as well, which many have tried to end or escape from, but none have been able to. If I were to be honest I would admit that even Christians don’t have perfect internal peace and never will while they live near their flesh. The war is unavoidable and often never ending. Everyone who’s experienced this life has experienced a lot of war.

So of course everyone would want to find peace, and the words of the angels are encouraging to us. They bring hope and a slogan we can throw around during Christmas time to make everyone feel good and spread Christmas cheer. But it’s hard to think of it as anything but skin deep. It’s hard to take the desires and well wishes of “world peace” seriously. That’s because there is a war that no one likes to talk about. No one likes to look at it. It is the war that all the strife flows from, and while the world would definitely like to end the excess strife, they have very little desire to end--or even admit to the existence--of this war.

In his epistle, James claims that--because the world is so adverse to God--to even be a friend of this world is to be at war with its Creator. The scriptures describe humans over and over again as children of wrath who live to war against their Creator. Because of this war, there is no peace on Earth. That’s why the Incarnation was needed, to end the war.

The words of Zacharias, father of John the Baptist, after his son was born:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and redeemed his people, and hath raised up an horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David; as he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since the world began: that we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all that hate us; to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant; the oath which he sware to our father Abraham, that he would grant unto us, that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him, all the days of our life...To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

The words of the angels to the shepherds:

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

The words of Simeon after seeing baby Jesus:

“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.”

Those are the references to peace in chapter two of Luke, and they already sound quite different from how most people today mention peace around christmas time. But when you look at the words of Paul the apostle, written to the church in Ephesus, you see this peace explained very clearly:

“Ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world: but now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances; for to make in himself of twain one new man, so making peace; and that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby: and came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh.”

The word of God given to Isaiah the Prophet:

I create the fruit of the lips; Peace, peace to him that is far off, and to him that is near, saith the LORD; and I will heal him.~Isaiah 57:19

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. ~Isaiah 9:6

This is the real peace. It is the peace that was offered to the entire world, jews as well as gentiles. Peace between man and God. This is a war that man cannot win, but God gave man an offering of peace, a way for peace to be possible.

So why is everyone so confused? Perhaps it is because God’s children have failed to explain the message God has delivered through them to the world very clearly or loudly.

How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!~Romans 10:15

And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace~Ephisians 6:15 (regarding the armor of God)

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.~The words of Jesus from Matthew 5:9

And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.~James 3:18

I like the way the lyrics of this song explain the peace the angels spoke of. Some of the images miss the point in my opinion, but the song is good.

Peace on Earth by Chris Rice

Batter My Heart

2010-08-29T17:06:00.000-07:00

I love the effect of lyrics with music, but I've never been a huge poetry fan. Maybe I should reconsider? This is pretty profound.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
~John Donne

I Honestly Couldn't Help Myself

2010-07-25T01:42:00.000-07:00

Please, please watch this clip.

My Loverlies

2010-06-21T23:31:00.000-07:00

Here is the handsome Lord Sidney. He was trying to look big and scary, puffing his jowls out in the first picture. He wants to look as masculine as possible for the camera. The camera wasn't zooming right in these pictures, but he is actually the healthier, bigger, and better looking one because he's male.

This is Lady Jadyn. She is looking gorgeous in these pictures because I fixed the camera settings and she has shedded just recently. You might notice though that she is a lot skinnier than Sidney. This is because she's been kind of sick. She's also missing most of her tail, but that's another story.

Easter Video

2010-04-04T00:44:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, but I thought this video was so funny that I couldn't resist. I just know this will be me in a few years at Joanna's house. Oh, and the bunny would be Jordan, OBVIOUSLY. Enjoy, and I hope you have a wonderful Easter.

The company that made this, IgniterMedia, actually has some really good stuff. You should subscribe to their youtube channel.

Calvinism: Hooray, everybody's favorite!

2010-03-31T01:07:00.000-07:00

Hey, yeah yeah, lazy poster and all that. I'm not going to confession over it so get over it. I was rummaging through many of my old computer files, subconsciously trying to avoid writing the two papers that are due tomorrow morning, and I stumbled over my last year's annotated bibliography, which interestingly enough was on Calvinism. I really enjoyed reading it. It's funny how your writing reads after you've given it a year or so to breath. There are a lot of issues I didn't bring up and some I didn't expound upon enough. I must say my views have shifted slightly and I probably would word a few things differently now, but overall, I thought it was surprisingly good, if I do say so myself. That said, of course if anyone finds this worth anything, it's not any of my doing. Please, by all means, feel free to comment and let me know what you disagreed with or agreed with, what I could have done better. Criticism is a wonderful thing, even when it's not constructive in my opinion, but it always is in all honesty. It's also an option to remain mute and leave my comment section a barren waste land. If that's your choice I won't complain. It can handle it. It's fairly hardy. I mean, have you seen it lately? Without further ado, and as you well know, I have plenty ado: Hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

Tobias Humphrey

9 April 2009

Research Paper

Calvinism

Before the term Calvinism had even been coined, the concepts behind it were disputed issues. It has always been a topic viewed as controversial and avoided by many, and though there seems to be evidence for both sides--those who call themselves Calvinists and those who are opposed to the teachings of Calvinism, often referred to as Arminian--the views are so entirely contrary that both cannot be claimed as correct. The doctrines of Calvinism fail to accept the concept of free will as it is presented in the Bible, and also misrepresent doctrines such as atonement and grace. After taking a look at what Calvinism really is at heart and what evidence there is to back it up, one might find it to be a dangerously flawed view of who God is and how He operates.

To understand truly what the beliefs of Calvinism consist of, a good place to go would be back to the man who was most prominent in holding to those beliefs, John Calvin. Many on either side of the issue would agree with Philip S. Gorski, author of The Disciplinary Revolution, when he claimed that “the theological precept most frequently associated with Calvin's name is predestination” (20), but what exactly does the doctrine of predestination consist of? In The History and Character of Calvinism, John T. McNeill speaks on the subject; he claims Calvin believed that predestination was the “eternal decree of God by which He has determined with Himself what He would have to become of every man,” and goes on to explain “eternal life is foreordained for some and eternal damnation for others. Every man therefore, being formed for one or the other of these ends, we say that he is predestinated to life or to death” (210).

Calvinists typically hold to five main points that can be summed by the acronym TULIP. These points are: total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, and perseverance of the saint, but only the first four of these doctrines are relevant here. John Piper, renowned theologian, author, and devout Calvinist put together a summary of what these four doctrines consist of on his church website:

...total depravity means that our rebellion against God is total...our inability to submit to God or reform ourselves is total, and we are therefore totally deserving of eternal punishment...[Man] cannot make himself new, or create new life in himself. He must be born of God...God begets us anew and the first glimmer of life in the new-born child is faith. Thus new birth is the effect of irresistible grace, because it is an act of sovereign creation—"not of the will of man but of God."...Christ died for all the sins of some men. He foreknows, i.e. elects a people for himself before the foundation of the world.

This means that before God created the world, He chose who He would save and allow into heaven and also who He wouldn’t. This is why the teachings of Calvinism are seen by so many Christian circles today as controversial; following this logic leads Calvinists to the conclusion stated in the introduction to Institutes of the Christian Religion which claims that “What is to become of everyman in the hereafter has been determined by God's eternal decree; and some are ordained to everlasting woe.” This is known as the doctrine of double predestination, because God predestinates people both to Heaven and Hell.

Why is this such a problem? There are those who believe that these views paint God out to be a monster. The introduction to Institutes of the Christian Religion goes on to talk about whether John Calvin understood the implications of the doctrine of predestination. It claims “Calvin shudders at this conclusion even while expounding and defending it, and he knows well the moral difficulty it involves.” The thought that God created some souls for the distinct purpose to destroy them is a chilling one to say the least. It means that if someone is predestinated to an eternity of death, there is nothing they can do about it. They are already given over to a reprobate mind and have no chance to change their hearts or their fate. These souls exist for the purpose of being destroyed for the pleasure of the God who made it possible for them to live.

Another reason the doctrine seems problematic is because it eliminates all responsibility from the human being. If who we are, what we become, or where we go is all up to God and we have nothing to say about the matter, then why should we try to do right? Can we not do whatever we will without worrying about the consequences if God is the one, in the end, who makes the decision for us? This is where it fails to address the concept of free will, an idea clearly held to by the Bible.

There have also been stories of Christians who, after accepting the doctrine of Calvinism, have stumbled in their faith. Accepting that one’s God is a God who created souls for the purpose of destroying them seems to, at times, be enough to bring the faith of some crumbling down. In his book What Love is This? Dave Hunt reiterates one of these many stories of those falling in their Christian walk after succumbing to such doctrines. He writes of a couple who had had a happy and fruitful ministry until the husband became interested in a new truth. The pastor’s studying of this new truth led into an obsession, and he began to preach it from his pulpit. After being warned to desist, he was removed from his position as pastorate. Hunt claimed that “Eventually, [he] began to worry whether he was really one of the elect. The nagging questions grew into full blown doubts” (17). He goes on to quote the wife as saying “I kept trying to tell my husband that the God he was now believing in...was not the God I knew and loved”(17).

As stated above, Calvinists believe in the doctrine of total depravity, which is a doctrine that has been agreed upon by both on either side of these issues. Neither would deny that the Bible clearly teaches that man’s heart is evil. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” (Holy Bible Jer. 17.9). And more than this, it is something that can be noticed in the world, whether by observing society today, or by looking back at the atrocities of men through history. After all, even when someone does something good, is it not often motivated out of selfish reasons? The Calvinists claim that because humanity is evil and incapable of doing anything truly good, if people were presented with the choice of accepting the gift of the gospel, they would always reject it; therefore, if they are saved, it is because God has chosen for them and changed there hearts through His grace.

Dave Hunt makes an interesting argument against this later on in his book on the subject:

The Bible makes it clear that salvation is the gift of God...It must be received as a free gift. What ability of any kind is required to receive a gift? None, of course. Then how can any sinner suffer from an inability to receive the free gift of eternal life? Unquestionably, to receive the gift of salvation one must believe the gospel. Never does the Bible declare this to be impossible for the natural man. The very command, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15) implies the ability of every person to believe the gospel...[Man’s] moral responsibility to God...is stated repeatedly in Scripture. (96-97)

Calvinists claim to acquire doctrines of unconditional election, limited atonement, and irresistible grace solely from scripture, and the verses that they base their beliefs on are certainly compelling if not convincing to some. One of the most popular passages Calvinists bring up as support is Romans 9. They use verses like “Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated” (Holy Bible Rom. 9:13) to prove limited atonement and then claim that the following verses address any rebuttal some might have against it. “What shall we say then? Is there unrighteousness with God? God forbid. For he saith to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy” (Holy Bible Rom. 9:14-15). They also take a frightening position on some much disputed verses later on: “Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour? What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction” (Holy Bible Rom. 9:21-22). They use verses like these to compare God to a potter who creates pieces of pottery to destroy so that he may show his wrath.

If one were to take these verses at face value it is conceivable that they could come to such a conclusion. But stringing verses together without looking at the complete picture is something Calvinists are sometimes criticized for. If one were to follow the traditional, historical, contextual method of exegeting scripture and harmonize it with the rest of the Bible, he or she would end up with quite a different interpretation. Throughout Romans Paul is speaking to the Jews about how faith is what saves them and not their lineage or works. Though complicated, many theologians believe that rather than the destinations of men’s eternal souls, this chapter is showing the Jews that God’s treatment of them is not contingent on their lineage. The theologians holding to this view base their judgment on the many references back to the Old Testament that are made in the chapter and throughout the book of Romans. Paul goes on to explain that God, in his sovereignty, has the right to choose himself the method of salvation and is not subject to the will of men. This interpretation also harmonizes with the other teachings of the Bible rather than contradicting them.

The main stand taken by Christians who oppose the doctrines of Calvinism is that man has been given a free will by God. This can be supported by endless examples in the Bible where God offers people choices and ultimatums. The biggest ultimatum in the Bible is the call of the gospel which gives men the option to repent. Repenting is the changing of mind; this requires an exercising of the will.

Calvinists argue that claiming free will for humankind is equal to raising humans above God, which Kuyper explains in Lectures on Calvinism. “The sovereign God is dethroned and man with his free will is placed on the vacant seat. It is the will of man which determines all things. All power, all authority proceeds from man” (87). They also claim that if one believes that God is in control, then free will makes no sense. Notice the logic used in the book Theological Incorrectness by D. Jason Sloan:

Try this. Stand up and look down at your feet...Now sit back down. What caused you to do this? Did God?...Most likely, your instinctive answer is that you did it on your own. On reflection you might postulate that it was all a part of "God's plan." Your instinctive...answer is that you did it. Yet, if you believe that God is in control, then you might...change your mind: God made me do it. (88)

Following this logic through leads one to believe that everything that is done is done so by the will of God and not the will of man.

As stated before, another one of the reasons there is resistance to Calvinism is that, if it’s reasoning is followed through, it eliminates all responsibility of man. Many believe in the responsibility written about in Rex Burns’ book Success in America: “man, like everything else in the universe, belongs to God; God has given him duties and just enough free will to make him individually responsible to honor those duties” (4). This has been a ideology carried out by Christians through the ages.

Some Calvinists do believe that man is responsible for most everything save their eternal destination, so this belief cannot be laid on all of them. The one’s who do believe it, however, don’t seem to be overly worried about the implications of it. They claim that God can receive glory by having some men sin as a part of His grand plan, and then by sending them to eternal damnation.

A central argument against Calvinism is that God offers grace to all in His word. If this is true, the doctrine of limited atonement and the view Calvinists take on predestination is flawed. The scriptures clearly express that the sacrifice of Christ was for all men and that God calls all men to repentance. Why would He do this if He only intended to send many into everlasting torment without giving them an option? Many Calvinists claim that when the Bible says “all men” it is referring to every race and nationality and that one cannot apply these verses to individuals.

There are various forms of Calvinism and many deep controversies that cannot be covered at length here, for instance: the exegesis of passages that take hours of studying to interpret properly, the claims of calvinists that decisional regeneration is no different than works for salvation, and more. However, most of the points have been brought out, if only briefly brushed over. Among those are the matter of man’s ability to repent, free will, responsibility, and the gospel call to “every creature”. The doctrines that Calvinism holds up have also been brought out and compared to the Scriptures.

Now is the time for all Christians to decide which side of the line it is they stand on. There are two conflicting views of God, and if one of those ideas is false, then those for it are not depicting the true God. If Calvinism is not denounced and continues on it could very well--and has to some extent--reek havoc in the circles of American Christianity. Such a view of God can bring the faith of many crumbling down and leave them weak and confused. Those who hold to free will and a righteous God must not be afraid to confront the doctrines of Calvinism and must be equipped to provide reason for their opposition.

Annotated Bibliography

Burns, Rex. Success in America: The Yeoman Dream and the Industrial Revolution. United States of America: Rex Sehler Burns, 1976.

Calvin, Jean, John T. McNeill, and Ford Lewis Battles. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Vol. 1. Lewisville, Kuntucky: The Westminster P, 2006.

Gorski, Philip S. The Disciplinary Revolution: Calvinism and the Rise of the State in Early Modern Europe. United States of America: University of Chicago P, 2003.

Holy Bible. KJV ed. Michigan: Zondervan, 2002.

Hunt, David. What Love is This?. United States of America: Multnomah Books, 2002.

Kuyper, Abraham. Lectures on Calvinism. United States of America: Wm. B. Eerdmans Company, 1931.

McNeill, John T. The History and Character of Calvinism. London: Oxford UP, 1954.

Piper, John. "What We Believe About the Five Points of Calvinism." Desireing God. 1 Mar. 1985. Bethlehem Baptist Church. 26 Mar. 2009 <http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Articles/ByDate/1985/1487_What_We_Believe_About_the_Five_Points_of_Calvinism/>.

Slone, D. Jason. Theological Incorrectness. New York: Oxford UP, 2004.

Tuesday's Dissection

2009-12-23T00:55:00.000-08:00

Good News

Hi, Merry Christmas. Today I'll be dissecting a song off one of my favorite Christmas albums. It is sung by Steve Green, but he didn't write it. Here are the lyrics.

Good news, good news
An angel brings good news

Close your eyes and fold your hands
For a moment let your sorrow fade
Why, why are you afraid
Has this wold stripped you of your faith

Close your eyes and on bended knee
Listen to an angel pray
Then once again prepare the way
So you see a gift that's given

Behold a time of joy
Behold a baby boy

Good news, good news
An angel brings good news
Good news, good news
I leave you with good news

Bow your head and speak not a word
Let the silence take you far from here
The spirit of a child dry every tear
And may your doubts thus disappear

Bow your head and on bended knee
Hear the story once again
The child grew up to wear a cross
The child grew up to pledge a life

Behold the time of joy
Behold, Christ a baby boy

Good news, good news
An angel brings good news
Good news, good news
I leave you with good news

Good news, good news
An angel brings good news
Good news, good news

I leave you with
An angel brings
Good news

And here's a audio feed for the song. Just to for warn you, sometimes these players have been malfunctioning and it'll play something else. So if it doesn't sound right, it's a malfunction.

I see this song as a rebuke. It's a rebuke to Christians who've gotten caught up in the rush of this world and have lost their focus and have forgoten the implacation of their salvation. The Christians who've let the worthlessness of this planet we live on depress us and lead us into despair. It's for every Christian, becuase this happens to every Christian at some point.

Close your eyes and fold your hands
For a moment let your sorrow fade

He's saying "Stop." In the busyness of the world and of Christmas and all that comes with it you have to stop at some point if you want to really celibrate Christmas in your heart. Stop, close your eyes, don't do anything with your hands, fold them. Forget about this world and the sorrows that come with it.

Why? Why are you afraid?
Has this world stripped you of your faith?

How could you have let this world scare you and make you loose sight of what you've believed in? How often does this happen to us?

Close your eyes and on bended knee
Listen to an angel pray

Get on your knees, bow your head, listen for the angels. The angels that came to the sheperds singing gloria. The angels that were so overblown by Jesus and what he had decided to do when God sent him to this world that they couldn't hold it in.

Then once again prepare the way
So you see a gift that's given

Prepare your heart. Set aside some time of quietness, away from everything, so that you can truly see this gift for what it is. That's what Christmas is for, to celibrate the gift God has given us.

Behold a time of joy
Behold a baby boy

That was the gift, and it's something to be joyful about. You have no excuse to be down or frustraited, because God has given the gift ofthis baby boy.

Bow your head and speak not a word
Let the silence take you far from here

Again, he's saying "Stop." Get away from the physical demands and distractions.

The spirit of a child dry every tear
And may your doubts thus disappear

I'm not sure if I like the choice of words here. I'll asume he's speaking of The Holy Spirit which is The Comforter, the Spirit of God. "Spirit of the child" doesn't really make sence, since I don't think a "spirit of Jesus" was ever mentioned in the Bible. Anyway, I think the song is saying that we should ponder the gift of this child and let the Spirit comfort us.

Bow your head and on bended knee
Hear the story once again

It's not talking about the story of the nativity. It's talking about the story of the gosple, which is really what the whole song is about, hense the title.

The child grew up to wear a cross
The child grew up to pledge a life

This is the good news. The child pledged his life to a death on the cross for us.

Behold the time of joy
Behold, Christ a baby boy
Good news, good news
An angel brings good news
Good news, good news
I leave you with good news

Pretty self explanitory. Actually, the entire song is very self explanitory, but I felt like disecting it today so I did. So, for those of you who may not be "in the spirit of Christmas," get in it and start celibrating. Not celibrating with your family and good food, but celibrate alone in your heart with God.

Sunday Funnies

2009-11-16T01:12:00.001-08:00

The Croc Fraternity

from Pearls Before Swine

I know it's a little late in the day for the Sunday Funnies, but I keep forgetting to put them up every week so I'm posting them anyway. This weeks feature is the beginning of Zebra's next door Croc fraternity neighbors in Pearls Before Swine. Pearls Before Swine is one of the best syndicated comics out there when it decides not to be crude. I'm an avid hater of 99% of syndicated comics, but I really love the good 1% and pearls is part of it. It never seems to fail at making me laugh. All you really need to know for these is that Zebra is a friend of Rat and Pig (the main characters of the comic), and Zebra has had a long history of his family being hunted down by predators. He usually is seen in the comics writing letters to various predators pleading with them to change their ways. He never seems to succeed. The predators are known for not having a very high IQ, and prolly the least of which is the Crocs...

5 and counting

2009-11-14T00:10:00.001-08:00

Puppies

Molly's tired

Lots of licking

Two lemon girls

Three tri colored boys

Expecting more to come

Goob's sulking and alone

Feeling used and neglected

Sit's outside the door all night

Get's growled at when he comes in the room

All part of her Molly's plan to take over the world

Well on her way to producing and spreading a horde of offspring

Where her minions will worship her as the high queen beagle mother of all

That's my kinda dog

Alone & The Pursuit of Happiness

2009-10-30T16:20:00.000-07:00

I've been pretty much alone at the office where I work here all week. The office secretary has been sick with the flew so this is the 6th day in a row I've pretty much been the only one in the office. People drop in now and then for an hour or two, but the majority of my days have just been me alone taking phone messages and doing some bookkeeping for another company my boss owns. Other than that it is very slow here. I like it in some ways and don't in other ways. It's the perfect time to get writing, reading and studying done, when all you're doing is waiting for phones to ring, but I've been kinda lazy, just watching the clock and blogging and stuff. Hopefully the secretary will be back next week and I can get some inventory and bookkeeping work done at another location.

I've been thinking about happiness a little bit lately. It's seems like everyone's big concern in life is whether they're happy. That's kind of the big life question you hear people asking. "Are you happy?" I don't mean happy now and then. I mean being generally happy in life. It's the sort of thing you'd expect a psychiatrist to ask their patient. It's the sort of thing you might ask yourself from time to time. I was thinking, how much time do people waste worrying about weather they're happy or not. Does it even matter?
Let's say you aren't happy. What then? Terrors of terrors? End of the world? Why does it matter so much to everyone? I don't necessarily know if I'm generally happy. I know I would never refer to myself as a happy or cheerful person because it's just not my personality. I have joy. That doesn't mean I'm joyful all the time because I most definitely am not always a joyful person, but I have joy in my heart according to the knowledge that there is something real and true to be joyful about no matter what happens.
I think the reason so many people in this world are so unhappy is because they're obsessed with being happy. Think about it. People do so much to make themselves happy, but at the end of the day they're never content and still want more of it. If you think about it, the whole "pursuit of happiness" is completely selfish and when we waist our lives away trying to make sure we're happy we really end up unsatisfied.
The problem is we're to worried with whether we're happy when we should be worried about whether God is happy. Honestly, if we dropped all the things we do that make us happy and concentrated on trying to do everything we could to make God happy with our lives, then, we would be content, satisfied, and ultimately happy. Now I'm not saying to please God with the intention of making yourself happy through it because that defeats the purpose and usually ends up just being selfrighteousness or pride. I'm saying completely forget about pleasing yourself and just try to please God.
Now, we obviously as humans will eat food we like and have fun in our spare time. Neither of these things are wrong, but I know I become obsessed with filling my life with getting the best stuff, eating the best food, and having the most fun I possibly can. It's one of the biggest things I struggle with because at the end of the day, it never makes me happy. In fact, it makes me regretful. The very thing we're trying to achieve is taken away from us because we aren't supposed to be worried about it in the first place.
I don't know if I'll ever learn, but I wonder how happy everyone would be if they decided that they could care less if they were happy or sad and became obsessed making sure God was happy (or pleased is perhaps a better word, "happy" is so trite) with them.
Sorry for getting away with myself and having some brain leakage find its way into my keyboard. Every time that happens my post becomes a long rambling. Maybe I've had to much time to think, sitting here alone all week.

Friday Movie Night

2009-10-30T09:59:00.000-07:00

This cat is amazing. None of the piano is played by human. It is all from the cat. It is edited though, and then a composer wrote a piece to go with it. It's amazing. I can't stop watching it. You should check out the cat's other videos.

Tuesday's Dissection

2009-10-27T22:42:00.000-07:00

Orange Sky

I'm gonna try out a new feature on my blog. I like songs. I mean, I like music, and instrumentals are wonderful, but I love songs. I love dissecting the lyrics and trying to figure out what the message is when it's really Vague and enigmatic. I like a song to be a work that takes time to absorb and understand.

I've stumbled upon an artist that I'm really enjoying lately. His name is Alexi Murdoch, and so far I only got an EP of his titled "Four Songs" and another single. They are all good, really good. Today I'd like to take apart my favorite song of his, "Orange Sky."
The melody is good, and obviously you can't really separate it from the words, but it is good. Right now though, I'm only looking at the words.

Here's the song. It's a live version and I don't think his vocals in this version are as good as the studio version, but I was too lazy to upload mine.

Here, take a look at the lyrics. (from studio version)

Well I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
Yes I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
With my brother standing by
With my brother standing by
I said brother, you know you know
It's a long road we've been walking on
Brother you know it is, you know it is
Such a long road we've been walking on
And I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
With my sister standing by
With my sister standing by
I said sister, here is what I know now
Here is what I know now
Goes like this
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, in your love, in your love
But sister you know I'm so weary
And you know sister
My hearts been broken
Sometimes, sometimes
My mind is too strong to carry on
Too strong to carry on

When I am alone
When I've thrown off the weight of this crazy stone
When I've lost all care for the things I own
That's when I miss you, that's when I miss you, that's when I miss you
You who are my home
You who are my home
And here is what I know now
Here is what I know now
Goes like this
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, in your love, in your love

Well I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
Yes I had a dreamI stood beneath an orange sky
With my brother and my sister standing by
With my brother and my sister standing by
With my brother and my sister standing by

What do you think? Here are my thoughts on it.

Well I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky

The name of the song is "Orange Sky." It means sunset. The end. The end of the day, the end of your life, the end of everything. At the end of it all, what really matters? What's left standing?

With my brother standing by
With my sister standing by

With his references to the brother and sister I think he's talking about more than just a brother and a sister. He's talking about family in general. At the end of the day, they're left standing there beside you. Not only blood family. Family is a lot more than just relatives.

I said brother, you know it is
Such a long road we've been walking on

They're the ones you've traveled the furthest with. It is a long road. They share your pain. They put up with you. And they're the ones that will be left at the end.

But sister you know I'm so weary
And you know my hearts been broken
Sometimes my mind is too strong to carry on

This is my favorite part of the song. It's interesting that he tells his sister this. Perhaps it's because the relationships you have with sisters tends to be a little more tender than with brothers. The first two lines are pretty obvious, but I love the last line. How can your mind be too strong to carry on? I knew exactly what he was getting at the first tim I heard it. I've felt that same feeling so many times before. You see so much wrong, hear so much wrong, do so much wrong. This whole world and everything you see seems so wrong your mind gets calloused to it all. It becomes so strong against all the pain and mess you see in this world, and sometimes you just don't want to carry it on any more. You don't want to carry some memories, some of the knowledge you've picked up.

When I am alone
I've thrown off the weight of this crazy stone
Lost all care for the things I own
That's when I miss you
You who are my home

I'm not one for missing people. I really don't miss anybody very often. I'm not a people person. But I understand what this is saying. When you're alone and you start thinking of old memories and good times. When your sick of trying to survive in this world and you just want to throw of the waits and burdens of your everyday life problems. When you don't even care about your possessions and they don't mean anything to you. Someone could pile them all up and burn them and you wouldn't be concerned because in the long run they don't matter. That's when you start missing the ones who you love, but are far away. That's when you want to pick up the phone and give them a call. You realize home isn't the place you come home to or the town you live in, but it's t
he people who love you. The people you can go to at the end of the day and not worry about performing right or making a good impression on them because they already know you're nothing special, but they love you anyway.

And here is what I know now
Goes like this
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love

In these times, you realize that you wouldn't be able to make it through this life with out your family and the people who really love you. Sometimes they are the only thing that keeps you going, and without their love, you know you wouldn't make it very far.

I hope it wasn't to cheesy, but that's just what I think of when I play this song. Expect more sappy dissections to come.

Horray!

2009-10-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

Got my blog working again. Let me know if you encounter any more problems. Expect more updates to come.

It's finally snowing. I was afraid I wouldn't make it to work on time because I was driving slow in the snow, but no worries, I made it.

Winter is here.

Sunday Funnies

2009-10-25T16:52:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm starting a new feature on my blog called Sunday Funnies. Today's is "The Barn," an adorable little strip about a cute little sheep named Rory and his barnyard friends. I liked this particular one because it's kinda what we're feeling here in Alaska. It's amazing there's no snow on the ground right now. Although, they are calling for snow tonight.

Friday Movie Night

2009-10-23T13:26:00.000-07:00

A Twofer

Alas, my blog is still having issues and making me angry while at it, but I'll get it sorted eventually.

For now, enjoy your Friday night with these links.

First up:

I've heard of this guy before. He's supposed to be one of the richest true Christians in America I think and I guess he puts his money to good use supporting different evangelizing organizations like Living Waters. A very interesting project he has here. It seems like it could be a waste of money, but still, a very interesting idea. Check it out and register if you want to see what it's all about.

click me

Second up:

And, to celebrate the release of the long anticipated Windows 7 today, check out this link.

click me

Long time, no post,

2009-10-12T21:07:00.000-07:00

Hey, I realize I haven't posted in a while. My blog was in hibernation for a while due to several factors including it being spring/summer, me being busy with other stuff, me being lazy, and me just feeling like taking a break. But I'm done with that now. It's back up and running and hopefully for good.

What I've been up to:

It's been a long, hard Spring/Summer, but I can say in all sincerity, a good one. I got a new job and I'm still kind of focusing on learning and getting more experience. We had a good time vacationing with the McCandleses and Noah and got to visit Joanna. We also spent some time at the cabin like we do every year. I was glad when fall came, my favorite time of year. I remember a few weeks ago, when I drove out on chena hot springs road to the cabin, what a beautiful drive it was. It was sunny, but really blustery and all the trees were bright yellow and the leaves were gusting across the road. The drive back during early mornings wasn't that fun due to it being a very windy road with sharp turns and it was very dark out and I was afraid I wouldn't get to work on time and there were gigantic monster porcupines wandering the roads, waiting for inexperienced drivers like me to run over them. Anyhow, I can't really think of anything else anyone would want to know about what I've been up to, as if you wanted to know anything in the first place. It's amazing how so much time flies by and we really accomplish nothing important, but merely spend most of our time doing the little, meaningless day to day things, and then, spend the rest of our time devoted to sitting around and recreation. At least I do. Sad. I've been listening to a lot of music,** but that's to be expected.

What I'm up to now:

Well, it's still fall. That's a good thing. It been very warm and the days have been turning out quite nice. I hope it lasts for a while. I hate the thought of winter until the first snow comes, then it's irresistible and I love winter again, even if it is long and cold. The parents just got back from trip they took to Suix Falls for a conference and visiting with the McCandlesses and some other friends. I've just been working, hanging round at coffee shops*, saving money for school, trying to get my blog up and running. It's been having real issues that I can't seem to fix. I'll just have to sit down and figure it out one of these days.

What I will be up to:

Winter's coming, like I said, and with it hockey, thanksgiving, slippery roads, hopefully puppies. Molly's might be pregnant, due to her and Goob spending a little time together this summer. She seems to be getting a little heavy and fat, but we'll see. It would be wonderful to have a few beagle puppies running around this winter. I would love to keep one, but we have too many dogs around our house as it is. I am determined to keep one of Molly's daughters at some point though, it might just be a few years down the line. We may plan a trip during Christmas, but we haven't decided yet. I hope not, I like staying home for Christmas. Oops, wow, I need to stop talking about that. I hate people bring up that subject so early in the year.

A word on The Lost Detective:

I may continue with TLD, but I'm not sure yet. I'm just really unpleased with all that I've done so far. I'd like to polish it up, put in a few things I left out, fix a few plot holes, do a bit more research to make it realistic, and then maybe finish it. It's not as fun writing it when what I've done so far is nagging in the back of my mind. We'll see though.

A word on Twitter:

I'm thinking about maybe playing around with Twitter some. I haven't got into it so far because ACS doesn't have short codes which are necessary when using Twitter, and if you can't twitter (I refuse to use the word "tweet"***) something in a moments notice than it kinda defeats the whole purpose of Twitter. Also, only 3 peoples follow me and there's really no reason to inform them of my hourly happenings. But I am thinking about using it just to put up quotes, Bible verses, and snippets of lyrics of whatever song might be stuck in my head. Then I'll put a feed on the sidebar of my blog. We'll see how it goes though and if I get any more followers. I might get bored of it, and so might anyone following me.

* I'm actually hanging out at Barnes and Nobles as I write this. I usually go for local shops, but our favorite one closed early so we headed over here.

**There playing Blind Pilot over the intercom which I would totally recommend minus 3ish songs due to their lyrics. That's what's great about iTunes, you don't have to skip all the naughty songs on an album, you just delete them.

*** I never understood why they called it a "tweet". It should be a "twit". "Okay everyone, post your twits." Makes much more sense to me.

Monday Review

2009-10-05T23:56:00.000-07:00

Winter 1152

Tonight I'll be reviewing the latest installment of the great MouseGuard series. If you'd like to see past mentions of it, check out this post in which I reviewed Fall 1152 or this post where I talked about David Petersen's art in particular.

First of all, it did a wonderful job of expounding on the great world already presented in the first book. From how the territories run to the characters and animals, to really delved in deeper and immersed you in a greater richer experience than the first book. I think the easiest way to describe this would be to discuss each aspect of the book one by one.

Art

Just like Fall, his art was amazing in this one. The first thing I noticed is the realism in the drawings of the wild animals and the beauty of the winter season. There are endless pictures of frozen plants, ice and snow. When you're missing the beauty of winter, It's a great book to pick up and experie

nce winter's harsh, frozen wonder. The animal drawings are shockingly life like. For instance, the chilling glare of the owl, and the humorous looking hares. Somehow this is all tied in to the little mice carrying swords, and fantasy is mixed with reality in a way that gives the whole world of Mouse Guard a wonderful quality and originality. Petersen's style has seemed to solidify in this installment, and he has fine tuned his craft to a place of near perfection. Every emotion, every humorous moment, every violent battle blow is perfectly indicated. I almost makes you feel as if you're watching a film, rather than looking at pictures.

Characters

The characters of Mouse Guard are one of the things that really sell the story to me. In this latest book, he has added a large array of background characters and developed the old characters further. In Winter, you feel you actually understand who these mice are. Some of the characters are very welcomely clichéd, i. e. the wise mentor to young Lieam, Celenawe who is also a mysterious legendary hero and Lieam himself, who is on a journey to be the lone knight, destined to spend his life in sacrifice for the good of the territories. There are also the wonderfully flawed characters such as the good friends, Saxon and Kenzie, anti-types, who both can tend to be arrogant fools in there own way, and tend to butt heads, but who in the end, were really made for each other and are great fun to follow along on their adventures. Another thing that improved in Winter were the enemies, with one particular mouse that provided some excellently chilling moments.

The Plot

If I was forced to pick a weak point, I would say the plot is where Petersen struggled in the first book, and although it improves greatly in this one, it still is nothing amazing. In either case, it's not because of holes in the plot. It's not because it's cheesy or unbelievable. It's because they tend to be rather simple predictable stories. As said before, Winter improved greatly, but was still not suprisingly good. It did leave hints of future stories, and had wonderful character development. It can also be said that the hints at past

history and the glimpses at the inner workings of the Guard are very satisfying. He also uses his platform of story telling to provide his readers with wonderful flashbacks and meaningful scenes. In

the end, Petersen doesn't rely on complex plot lines or jaw dropping twists, but he uses smaller, simpler stories to expound his world, history, and characters, and when he presents these so enjoyably, it's hard to complain (and sometimes even notice) about the simple, predictable plot lines.

Overall, I would recommend this series to anyone who is a child at heart, or loves good fantasy and art. It's a book for all ages, and I am looking forward to Mr. Petersen's next installment. Go to your bookstore, and check it out for yourself if you haven't already.

Friday Movie Night

2009-10-03T03:39:00.000-07:00

I know it isn't perfect, but this video kinda resonated with me because it's something I've really been having to deal with. Enjoy.

The Lost Detective

2009-10-02T01:20:00.000-07:00

Investigation Part 1

A short time later, I found myself approaching the looming warehouse I had fled from not many hours before. It seemed only more daunting now than it had ever been, there in the dark of night, illuminated only by streetlights and the brights of a passing cab. I felt undercover, as if I would have to resort to stealth if I wished to get away with my little investigative episode. There was a guilty fear in my gut that I couldn't shake, but somehow, at the same time, a feeling of elation and freedom. This is what I'd imagined P. I. work to be; not the stress, not the paperwork, but a sense of risk and daring. I’m not sure really what I was expecting, a fool like me. I guess somewhere inside, as I approached the building, I hoped, almost believed, that it would be my breakthrough, that that night would somehow make all of it worth while. That all the stress, all the confusion would fade away as I discovered what was really behind this strange furniture enterprise. In fact, I almost depended on it. Sometimes people refuse to accept things they don’t like even if those things are true. That’s why not everyone is a defeatist. Like admitting those perfect movie moments everyone wants to believe in never actually happen and are only as artificial as the average person’s feelings. Maybe it was just me, and not everyone struggles so much. Maybe I was just deranged, and also, maybe the fact that I could barely understand what went on in my own mind proved it. I’m not sure, I never was. But all the same, I felt that something big had to happen there, that night. I needed a little push to know that I was on the right track, that this whole detective gig was more than just a child's game, but a purpose for my life. And whether you believe in movie moments or not, that’s what I needed. That was my mistake. Not the mistake, but definitely one of the bigger ones.
I ran across the empty street and around the building. It was very dark, and I searched for an opening, or door in the wall. A breeze drifted by, almost as stale as the rest of the still night air, shaking the leaves of a tall nearby oak at the far end of the warehouse. I looked at it through the night, it's branches moving in the wind, and shuddered inside. This is why I hated night. I noticed, near the tree, high on the wall, there was a window. It was a normal sized window, nothing spectacular, but I watched it for a second, asking myself what I would do if a light suddenly turned from behind the glass pane. A dreadful fright took me, making me second guess my little mission, but I knew I had no choice. This was it. This was when I had to decide weather I was serious about being a detective.
My eyes wandered down the wall from the window, and there I saw a small wooden door in the wall. I ran towards it silently, and reached for the key in my pocket. As I searched for the door-nob and grasped it, my mind raced, and suddenly spit-fired a thought out of no where. Was this illegal? It made me pause for a second. But, not before long, I decided no. After all, Mr. Lorre was half of the partnership, and he was granting me entrance to the business. He owned the warehouse just as much as Mr. Bork, or at least I was pretty sure he did. Doesn’t a business owner have the right to choose who he lets on and off the business property? Besides, Sidney hadn't objected, and he'd always been a coward when it came to legal issues. He'd actually been a coward about pretty much everything since he was a kid. At least it kept him out of the local gangs near the priory school. The key went in smoothly, and I chuckled at the thoughts of Sidney. As the door swung open silently, I stepped over the threshold.
The inside of the building was darker than it had been outdoors. The only light came through the windows from the street lamps. I hadn't liked the building the first time I visited, and it hadn't grown on me since. It smelt of old musty carpet and cigarette smoke. There was even a strong smell of gas, which made me wonder if they had been having a leaking problem with their heating system. I eventually found my way through the dark building past the reception counter, and up the stairs that went to the office, grumbling at myself for not bringing a flashlight. I passed through the dreaded waiting room, and was glad I didn't have to sit in the padded sofa and wait for Mr. Bork for a second time. My feet shifted over the carpet, past the clock which still laid there on the floor. I placed my hat and gloves on the desk as I entered the office. The smell of gas seemed to have grown stronger, and I was beginning to wander how people could work in conditions of such. I hadn't noticed it from when I had visited earlier, and it was beginning to make my breathing a bit hard and my stomach nauseous. I reached down and turned on the office computer and pulled a flash-drive from my jacket pocket. My plan was to copy anything interesting I found and take it to my office for further investigation. The gas smell became unbearable. It must have been leaking from somewhere; due to it's intensity, I couldn't see how it could be a normal thing.
“Just get the information and get out.” I told myself.
The computer began to slowly come to life. Fans started running and the front button lit up. It was an awfully noisy computer, the fans roaring like engines. I began to sweat, trying to imagine why the smell of gas would be so thick in the air. Then, I began to worry. All I could think about were scenes from cheesy action films with huge gas explosions and booby traps, the irony that my “movie moment” could come true. My hands became wet with sweat, and my heart rate increased.
The computer tower began popping violently and making some rather strange noises which startled me to the point of not being able to take it any longer. I sprinted for the stairs and half slipped, half jumped down it four steps at a time. My poor body rushed straight into a wall at the bottom of the stairs, which landed me on the floor, but I stumbled up to my feet to fall once again, knocking over a table in the dark with stacks of papers spread over it. The mess went everywhere. Finally, I burst my way out of the back door, landing on the small lawn behind the warehouse. On my hands and knees, gasping, I wondered if I should run for my life.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, clutching my hair. “my hat!”
What a fool I was to leave it behind. That was just the sort of thing I would end up doing. Seconds passed, there on the ground, and my mind raced, pushing me to make a decision. I had just left my hat, gloves, and a mess of papers behind me. What if my imagination had gotten the better of me? If the computer was really booby trapped, wouldn't it have blown by now? And if the gas was for the explosion, wouldn't the building have blown? If I left traces of myself behind, in the building, and the oncoming explosion was only a figment of my tormenting, overactive imagination, I new I’d be in trouble.
I wanted to run. I wanted to take off as fast as I could go and never see the old warehouse again, but I had to be sure. I jumped up summoning the last of my courage, which really wasn't much to begin with, and ran back through the door, up the stairs. There, in that dark office, the gas fumes were still strong, maybe even stronger. I stared at the computer, still popping and whirring. The monitor was only blue which filled the small office with an uneasy azure color. Suddenly, a few sparks popped out of the back of the tower, and a small flame licked up, past the access ports. I stood there for the shortest moment, wide eyed. Then, I took my things and fled, carefully avoiding walls and paper covered tables. I didn't bother to shut the door behind me, but I ran and made it out to the street, gasping for breath.
Turning around, I stared at the building, confused at the delay. Then, windows shattered as a cloud of fire roared from inside the warehouse, sending pieces of the building flying in multiple directions. A burst of hot air caught me where I stood, flapping my unzipped jacket. It was one of the scariest things I'd ever felt, being so close to death. Close enough to feel its breath rush by me.
That night, I ran faster than I'd ever ran before until I was home, in my apartment. Tears wanted to flow from my eyes, as if that would help anything, but I couldn't think straight. I collapsed on my bed, jacket, jeans and all. My mind wouldn't let me sleep that night. I laid there, wrapping my blankets around me, afraid of the world. It raced, my mind, terribly.
The human mind is an evil thing. I don’t think anyone will ever come to understand it. It’s an involuntary part of our body, so it seems to act on its own. Even when we are in control of it, it spits little thoughts sporadically to derail our oncoming “train of thought,” and the crash that comes out of this struggle can be disastrous. It takes us over in our sleep, fooling us into thinking we’re in a reality that’s often more confusing than our real life. It taunts us and plays with us. Perhaps it was only my mind. Perhaps it had something against me. I struggled to control it and reason that night. Warring with theories, hunches, fear, trying to figure out what had happened to me minutes ago, hours ago. It made me angry, bitterly, and early morning came, so I threw of my covers and left for the office at 5:00 AM the next morning with out so much as a minute of sleep.

The Lost Detective

2009-07-16T23:08:00.000-07:00

Confrontation

I was going about my day job, the one that kept food in my stomach. The small delivery truck sped down the roads in the suburbs of Rue Morgue. It was a strange day. The sun seemed to be irritating my vision, but the sky was all clouds. Suddenly, fog appeared from nowhere, springing up in front of me, causing me to slow the speed of the small truck. It seemed to ripple violently as it hit against my windshield, wrapping around the vehicle. Completely blind to the world, I traveled through it nervously. Then, it dissipated, and relief almost flooded over me, but not before I noticed another problem. The truck was traveling at an disturbing speed. Everything began to blur. I removed my foot from the gas petal and began stomping on the break, but the truck only gained speed. Then I glanced out the front window. There was a figure on the road. A small black figure coming closer every second. It was a body, growing as I neared it, until is was able the make out my small frightened client. It was Mr. Lorre, holding his hands up, motioning to stop. I was confused. I didn't understand. "Get out you idiot! You're going to die!" Whether it was me or him calling out, I couldn't tell. The speed increased as I stomped on pedals and pulled the steering wheel left and right. I could see the whites of his eyes, so big on that terrified face. Then the small truck jerked to a stop as it smacked into the poor body with a noise that rung my ears. I was lunged forward, flying into the wheel, yet unharmed. I scrambled to undo my seat belt, mumbling to myself hysterically, tears running down my face. My sweaty fingers pulled the handle of the car door out and I pushed the door open, dropping to the ground. Then I stopped. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to see what carnage I had produced. The tears were gushing themselves out of my eyes, down my face. I fell to the ground and sat there against the wheel, sobbing. Then I stopped. The tears were wiped away with an arm sleeve. I sighed heavily and rose to my feet. Slowly, I walked around to the front of the truck. There was nothing at first. No mess, no Mr. Lorre in pieces. Then I saw her. Sidney's friend, the one from the funeral, the one from the park. She laid there on the road, in front of the truck. Sprawled lifelessly on the black pavement in a dress as red as blood. A violent gasp sounded from me as I wrenched up. Everything was dark, quiet. My face was wet, and my blankets were thrown from me. My hard breathing began to stabilize as I took a few precious moments of reality to figure out what I was doing there in my bed, even who I was.
I groaned, hating the existence of dreams and the cruelty of their deception. I had always struggled with nightmares in my short life. Maybe it was my over active mind refusing to shut down at night. The clock read 3:47 AM, and I laid back down and closed my eyes. Everything was still for a while. I could hear the loud pinging sound of blood rushing through my ears that seems only to haunt you when there's nothing left to hear. Then, city noises sounded off faintly. A honking, sirens, perhaps some car chase. Rue Morgue was never quiet for long. My body was sweaty. My mind was struggling. I stood from my bed and fumbled in the dark for a hooded sweatshirt which, when found, was pulled over my head.

I slowly half-stumbled down the steps coming from the door of the small apartment building. One hand gripped the railing, the other held a glass of almost cold water. I lowered myself to take a seat on the steps and sighed deeply from underneath the hood of my sweatshirt. Something was wrong. I had spent the last several days obtaining any information I could find on Bork & Lorre's Furnishings. I had questioned employees and clients of the company, even looked at some of the legal records and documents. While the enterprise may not have been a popular one, it seemed to be fairing well enough. It was a strait forward furniture selling and repair shop, and though it may have been barely holding on financially, it seemed to be perfectly legal and legitimate, and most importantly, there was no sign of anything on the side going on, no suspicious activity whatsoever. I didn't know what to do.
My instinct told me that Mr. Lorre was having delusions in that paranoid mind of his. If this was true, then why did it disturb me so? Two hundred a day is good money. But it didn’t seem right to me. I wasn’t that kind of a detective. For me it really wasn’t about money; it was about making a name for myself. If money played a part in doing that then I would have gladly welcomed it, but I wasn’t a cheap P. I. who took advantage of week minds. How long was this Mr. Lorre planning on paying me before he called it off? Could he even afford it? On the other hand, what if the concerns were legitimate. I would hate to be a detective who called off a case, only to let someone else discover there was something worth looking into. It had been pressing down on me, the uncertainty, driving me to unrest. I just wanted to know if the case was legitimate.
“I’m so lost.” I declared out loud. It seemed to ease a bit of the weight off my shoulders admitting the truth. Though still warm, the night was a lot cooler then the exhaustingly roasting days. A breeze picked up, drifting warm air around me. Thoughts came to me of some of my past years. Times I had struggled, which seemed to be all the time and much more in my collage years. I remembered often going to Mr. Dabir for advice. He was never one for direct answers, but he always seemed to calm me down and bolster my confidence, which was a hard thing to do for someone like me. I suppose it’s a strange thing, going to your school teacher or principle for all your guidance in life. It was just the way it was done in the life of an orphan at the priory school. I had always wandered if looking up to a teacher was really all that different from a parent, or if we really were getting just a cheap imitation. Would my life have turned out much differently?
“Oh, Mr. Dabir.” I spoke out firmly but quietly into the night. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I’ve got myself in way over my head, and I just don’t know. It’s the real world now, not a game. And I was never any good at the game so why should this be any different?” I brushed the hood off my head as I scratched it and yawned. “I dunno, maybe it is a game.”
The dialogue didn’t seem to comfort me. Perhaps I just needed to head back inside and get some sleep. Perhaps it was that Mr. Dabir wasn’t there listening to me. He was dead. His body was underground somewhere rotting to pieces. The same body I might have gone to speak with now if he hadn’t passed on. No more life. No more expressions. No more. I bit my lip as tears streamed down my face again. A light sob sounded in the night as I sat there on that small stairway. My bare feet felt the droplets of a few tears.
Moments later, I stopped myself and rose. I rubbed the tears out of my eyes wearily, fatigued from the nightmares and crying. I made my way up to my apartment room again, thoroughly ready to crawl back into my bed, but before I could, I rummaged through the pockets of a pair of jeans, wadded up on the floor near my nightstand. Finally, I pulled out a picture, slightly crumpled and held it up to my lamp light. Mr. Lorre had sent any information he had regarding this Stephan Bork character to Sidney’s computer and even a picture, which Sidney had politely printed out for my convenience. The man was taller, with thick grey hair and a little grey mustache, dressed in a suit. What was with these furniture sellers and their suits? He didn’t look necessarily suspicious, but I could also see him being a snake.
“What kind of a person are you exactly Mr. Bork?” I asked him playfully. Then an idea merged in my mind. Why not ask him in person. Perhaps it would be best to know what I was up against once and for all. I went through the detective schooling. I knew how to read someone’s face. I knew when someone was hiding something from me. Why not approach him? If he cooperated, I would know for sure that he was clean and tell Mr. Lorre so. If he resisted, then he would be hiding something, and I would be happy to get to the bottom of it. Either way, my mind would be eased in knowing for sure whether there was something worth looking into. I turned out the light, and laid my head deep into its pillow, my mind slightly pacified.

“Yeah Hank,” I spoke into my mobile phone, making my way down the busy Rue Morgue streets the next morning. “I just wanted to let you know I’m not gonna be able to make it in to drive today. Uh, something just came up and I gotta deal with this so yeah, you might just have to make do without me. Thanks though, I knew you’d understand. If you have any questions don’t call me. I’ll talk to you next Monday maybe. Thanks again and bye.”
I knew he could handle it. Hank, a co-worker from my delivery day job, had always been an individual of patience. I was sure he wouldn’t turn it into something. Too sure, as I made my way to 555 Goldfish Street on yet another heated July day. The breezes had picked up, hopefully bringing something better than the severe rays of sun. I just needed to speak with Bork. Once the confrontation between us was out of the way, I could go on with life, but it was nagging me far to much to push to the side. I waited for speeding cars before crossing the road.

“Yes, is Stefan Bork in?” I asked, the warehouse employee behind the desk at Bork and Lorre’s Furnishings.
“No, but I think he’ll be in soon.” He replied pleasantly. “You can go up the stairs over there if you don’t mind waiting.”
I turned towards the staircase in a dark corner. It was carpeted in 70s style rug, a dull pattern of brown and orange. The entire atmosphere of the waiting room seemed to match with artificial wooden wallpaper and old brown lamps. The building itself seemed to be quite old.
“Uh, okay thanks.”
“Wait,”
“Yeah?”
“Were you here before?” I didn’t answer. “Oh yeah, you’re that P. I. who was talking with the guys.”
“Hm-huh” I grunted in an annoyed yet careless tone and moved towards the stairs. I knew I shouldn’t have worn my hat that day.
“Is Pete the one who hired you?”
I turned to face him. This worried me for some reason. I didn’t want to get Mr. Lorre in trouble with Bork. But the employee seemed more amused than anything else at the thought of the paranoid man hiring a private investigator.
“Why would you ask a thing like that?”
“Nothing, I could just see Pete doing something like that.”
“Hm, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had a chance to talk with Mr. Lorre too much. But no, there’s just been a few eyebrows raised because of some queer activity and I’ve been hired to ask a few questions. It’s probably nothing.”
“I’m not gonna loose my job am I?”
“Not if you mind your own business.” I replied a bit too snappily. “Just get a hold of Mr. Bork and tell him I wish to speak with him.”
I turned again and began to walk up the stairs. His questioning had made me angry. Perhaps it was because he had every right to believe Mr. Lorre had been the one to hire me. I felt so stupid. I reached the top of the stairs and sat on an old, brown sofa outside of the upstairs office. There was a magazine or two, years out of date, and an old newspaper on the floor. A clock on the wall between two pictures was tocking loudly. Then it stopped.
My hat came off and was placed on the seat next to me. I sat there on the sofa in silence. The room smelt of stale cigaret smoke. Even the man down the stairs, at the desk was noiseless. I hated silence. It allowed my mind to wander and my mind seemed all to eager to take advantage of it. I often felt as if my mind was my one greatest adversary, as if it had an agenda against me. The quiet was the kind of mute stillness that made think your ears had gone out, as if the silence itself somehow had a deafening quality. I began tapping on my knee, a faint thudding. I noticed the clock had been out of time anyhow. Must have been broken already.
Somehow, I couldn’t help but second guess my brilliant little idea. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say to this Mr. Bork. Tell him his paranoid partner wanted me to investigate him? What if it was all true and he was in some kind of illegal activity? What would a confrontation achieve anyway? It would only give him the opportunity to destroy any evidence and then I’d be worse off. I began to fidget in my chair. What kind of plan was this? What was I doing there? I hadn’t a clue of what I would actually say to Bork. Did I have a shred of information that would even hint he was guilty of something?
No. And as I sat there in the silence, I began to panic. The room grew warmer, and my skin became clammy with sweat. My breaths started increasing and I swallowed hard. I had felt this before. Many times. Most notably, when I was at the pool as a child. I would always allow myself to be pressured into giving the diving board a try, but when it came down to it, fear and panic would grip me as I stood on the board trying to convince myself to dive in headfirst, and it would always end the same way. I never once made it off the board, only walking away in a fit of tears. I had to get out of there.
I stood up from of the sofa and swiped up my hat, placing it firmly on my head. Just then the clock tocked once more. I stopped, and turned toward it. It was stalled again. Sitting there, silent. My finger reached out toward it for some stupid, unexplainable reason and wound the hands to the appropriate time of day. Then the clock slipped from its mount and fell to the floor with a clanging noise that was loud enough to unnervingly break the silence. I just stood there, waiting. Then it began tocking again and I looked down to see it lying there, on the brown carpet, with one hand bent the wrong way.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs as someone approached. Then he came. The face was the one from the picture, a thick head of graying hair combed nicely to the side. Tall, intimidating. The suit was different, but nevertheless, still a suite. He paused for a moment, glancing down at the clock and then at me. I stood there, awkwardly, waiting for him to say hello, anything. He walked by me and into his office. I picked up the faulty clock and placed it back on its mount. It fell again, and I entered the office of Mr. Stefan Bork.

“Mr. Bork, It’s a pleasure to meet you. Joseph B. Low, Private Investigator.” I held my license out in plain view. “Sorry to be blunt, but I know you’re a busy man so I’ll just get to the point so we can both continue about our productive days.”
He seemed to not even realize I had entered. Sitting behind his desk, near the computer, he turned it on. It was very likely the same computer he had been keeping Mr. Lorre out of. I continued.
“The fact is there has been some suspicious activity in this business your running, and I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind. I’ll also need access to your records and I’ll need to be able to search the warehouse.”
He sat there, looking at his screen. Nothing. He didn’t seem to care that I was there. So I went on.
“Honestly, this happens all the time and we rarely find anything. If I can get all this out of the way, you won’t have to worry about it anymore. This could be behind you in a matter of hours if you cooperate.”
“If I don’t?” His accent was thicker than Mr. Lorre’s, but the same.
“Um, what’s that.”
He finally looked at me, his face expressionless.
“You didn’t hear me?” He replied, taking out a cigaret and lighter. “What if I’d rather not cooperate?”
“Well, that’s fine with me.” I stuttered over the words, and he could clearly sense my insecurity.
He stood, breathing smoke into the air as he puffed on the stick between his fingers.
“Who do you think you are Mr. Low?”
I couldn’t answer. To be honest, I didn’t have one.
“You come in my office, and you are putting this card in my face, accusing of suspicious activity. I don’t care if you are thinking I am breaking laws or something. I don’t care. You are a citizen just like me. You have no authority to make me say anything to you.” I tried to observe him for movements or face expressions that would reveal whether he was being honest. The truth was, he hadn’t confirmed or denied my accusations. He was completely at ease. He wasn’t afraid of me.
“Um, of course. I mean you right. I just thought you would want to clear your name.”
“I don’t. Now get off this property before I call the police here and you are taken to jail for disturbing me and damaging my property.”
I couldn’t say anything. I hated myself for it, but I almost cried. All I wanted was to get out of that brown smoky building. So I turned around and headed down the stairs and out the door. I felt my phone buzzing deep in my pocket but ignored it till it stopped. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. It began buzzing again so I finally reached for it and looked at the screen. I had voicemail. I kept walking swiftly past people, along the side of the streets. My phone was brought to my ear as I opened the voice mail.
“Joe? This is Hank.” A voice sounded in my ear. “I just wanted to let you know not to worry about making it in to drive today.”
I couldn’t even pay attention to the message. Traffic was rushing by, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be an investigator. It was to much. Hank’s voice went on whether I was listening of not.
“In fact, don’t worry about making it in tomorrow, or the day after that either or any day for that matter. So yeah, you might just have to make do without this job if you’re so busy.” A honking blasted to my right, and I turned to see the front of a truck which had come skidding into a break three feet short of hitting me.
“Thanks though, I knew you’d understand. If you have any questions don’t call me. Thanks again and bye.” It honked again, and I felt stupid, realizing I had tried to cross the road without looking. I ran to the other side, and then continued running until I was home, away from the world.

It was late, but I wasn’t tired that night. I had immediately buried myself in my covers once home and slept through the day. Sleeping through a day never feels right and usually leaves you worse off than you were before, but I needed it. I had showered and dressed and was dragging myself into the building of the Playback Club. I don’t use the word dragging lightly. Life had become a drag, a war, a constant struggle to survive. As if I were clutching on to the end of the rope, my hands slipping more every second, delaying what I knew would come. My fall.
I couldn’t tell you why, but I woke up well into the night and couldn’t sleep any longer. My body seemed to be telling my mind that I had to get things settled because it couldn’t handle the stress. So I put on my jacket, gloves, and hat and headed to the office. I needed to think and act before I fell apart. But part of my mind laughed at me. It told me had already fallen apart long ago.
As I entered the building, the doors of the payback club were open, but it was closing. I could see a man wiping tables down and putting up chairs. It was dark as all the lights were out, but streetlights glared dimly through the window, enough to make out faint colors and shapes. My feet took me into the small nightclub, rather than up the stairs to my office. I walked over the carpet, past tables and the grand piano.
“It’s a nice set up they’ve got here, huh?” I said to the man, trying to make light conversation, but my voice was heavy and lifeless. He jumped slightly and turned suddenly to see me. Then, he began to laugh. It was an uplifting sound from deep down inside him, coming through his pearly white teeth. He was colored, an African American, and had a smile that was a whole lot wider than anything I could pull off. His short cut hair seemed to be graying into a silver color.
“I’ll tell you what boy.” He spoke. “You can’t be sneaking up on people like that. You are gonna scare someone to death one day.” This was followed with more laughter. Although I had no idea why me frightening him would be something worth laughing about, I couldn’t help but join in the contiguous activity with my own light chuckle.
“What were you asking again?” He asked, folding up a wet rag and putting it behind a nearby countertop.
“Oh,” I replied, looking around and observing the old fashion club. “Nothing really. I was just running my mouth. It’s a nice place here. I’ve never actually came in before.”
“Well thank you. I try to keep it that way. It’s a little late for that though. They’ve bought me out.”
“Who has?” I asked, as he wound up the cord to some vacuum cleaner.
“Ah, some big sleazy outfit that offered me too much to refuse.”
“Hm, I didn’t even know you were the owner of this place. Well that’s a shame.”
He wheeled the vacuum behind the counter and began to gather his things.
“It sure is. But what can I do? I’ve been running this place for far too long anyhow. It’s too much work for someone like me. Besides, an old joint like this is no place for Rue Morgue. Everyone is partying at the big boy clubs anymore.”
He sighed, putting on a thin jacket and adjusting his silver watch.
“You taking off?” I asked him.
“Why? You need something?
“Well actually, I was thinking about taking your grand out for a spin, see how she plays. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to. But, if you’re leaving, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh,” He replied, eyes wide. “She plays. She sure does play.” There he went again, with his contagious laughter.
“Go ahead.” He said, turning to leave. “Just lock the old place up when your done with her. Latch the door behind you. I’m getting out of hear, to get some rest.”
“Will do,” I promised, as he made his way out the door. I sat down on the dark wooden bench and sighed deeply, slipping the gloves off my hand and placing my hat on top of the piano. City noises were sounding off in the background, the whistling of the club owner. My fingers touched the smooth ivory softly and I began to envy the man. I smirked to myself. How does that happen? You make a friend without even knowing their name. I almost wished I was him. His smile, his laughter, his faith in me to close the club up as it was. My right hand began to play. It rolled softly over the keys which responded delicately and softly when pressed. A slow jazz melody. Tender, sad. My left hand joined, and the notes blended together. Rolling slowly up the keys, and then down again, picking up pace, but not for too long.

How could sorrow be such a beautiful thing? I would never understand it. The melancholy tunes were always my favorite. I suppose the same way a city as daunting and detrimental as Rue Morgue could still have an element of beauty to it. It seemed to have a way of chasing good people like the club owner out and replacing them with only corrupt and seedy individuals. Even so, it was home, a home I could never leave. Even in it’s distorted state, it still had a sort of allure that captivated me. Like the music.
“Joe?”
I didn’t stop playing, merely quieted it.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing here at this hour?”
I smiled slightly.
“What are you doing here Sidney?” He walked up toward the piano, and sat down next to me on the bench.
“I had allot of studying to do, so I stayed late in the office.” We sat there together. Me playing, him listening, and the melody ended.
“You play the piano?” He asked.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I answered.
“Hm,” He grunted, a bit surprised.
“What?”
“Well, nothing. It’s just that, we uh, you know. Well, we’ve been, um...” He bit his lip and squinted his eyes as if he were trying to think of the correct words.
“Friends?” I guessed.
“Well maybe not like that but yeah--” He began to mumbled.
“Oh, maybe not that word,” I muttered back. “But you know.”
“Yeah, we’ve uh, known each other for so long and you’ve never um, told me that you play.”
“Well, I do.”
“Hm, that’s nice.” He said, genuinely. We sat there, in the dark room of the nightclub. It was quiet, and the dialogue came slow as Sid was tired.
“I lost my job.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Kind of a bummer.”
“I can imagine.”
“Hm-huh.” I affirmed.
“Well you still have Mr. Lorre to keep you employed.”
“I don’t know how long that will last. I went to see that Stefan Bork today. He doesn’t seem like a very nice person.”
“That reminds me, that Peter Lorre dropped by earlier. He wanted you to have these.” Sid fished in his pocket and handed me a scrap of paper and a key.
“He said he wrote the password for the work computer on the paper and that the key should open the backdoor to the warehouse.”
“I thought he didn’t know the password.” I replied.
“Well he must have found out. It all sounds rather dangerous, and exhausting at present.” He added with a yawn. “I’d be careful.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the advice.”
“So how are you going to pay off your business loans without your second job?”
“Good question, I may have to let you go.”
“Oh!” Sid exclaimed, tiredly. “I didn’t tell you. I got some good news today. Well, actually bad news.”
“What was that?”
“Well, I have this uncle who always felt guilty about letting an orphan school raise me. I guess he passed away a week or two ago and left me some cash so I have all my school paid off and some extra money to keep me going for a while.”
“Oh, well that’s good, or bad.”
“Yeah, pretty sad. My point is, you don’t have to worry about paying me.”
“Ah, I can’t do that Sidney.”
“Yes you can,” He said, standing up from the bench. “You have to. You need a secretary if you’re gonna make it.”
“You’re probably right.” I replied. “Well thanks Sidney. I appreciate it. I really do. If you change your mind, that’s fine with me. Let me know.”
“I’m not gonna change my mind Joseph.” He answered, chuckling. “But I’ll let you know if I do.” He walked towards the front club doors and added, “Get some sleep.”
“Your one to talk.”
“Don’t I know it?”
He left me there, sitting in the dark. I looked down at the objects in my right hand. The other hand reached for my hat on the piano and placed it one my head. I wasn’t tired. On the contrary, I was restless. The night was young to me, and I held a password and the keys to my future, whether it be for good or evil.

Picture

2009-06-26T00:59:00.000-07:00

Mom and some of the kids were doing some watercolor, so I thought I'd give it a try. It's definitely lacking, but not terrible for the first time.

Break

2009-06-23T13:38:00.000-07:00

Hour breaks are quite satisfying, as apposed to half hour breaks which aren't. I'm still trying to figure out which bistro or restaurant down town close to work is the best one. Mocha Dan's is pretty high on the list due to the internet access, but it also fills itself up with Asian tourists which really effects it's rating. All of them have their pros and cons. Maybe I'll write a comparative review when I get around to visiting them all a few times.
Anyhow, the new job is nice. Nice people, pretty lax, but still kinda challenging, interesting, educational. Anyhow, it's nice, except for maybe the annoying courthouse clerk girls who think they know everything and patronize you. Well, to be fair it was only one of them, but she didn't really have it all together herself. But it's not too bad. I've been liking the weather also. Clouds and wind are a perfect combination.

Lizard Walk

2009-06-22T22:03:00.000-07:00

Well, we went for a walk a while back as we sometimes do during our Alaskan summers for some strange reason. Bu anyway, I decided to bring Jadyn along because I’m trying to make my lizards more comfortable with me and the outdoors. They seem to be improving slightly. They aren’t really trying to bite my fingers of anymore, and they’re getting a little more used to the lizard leash. He(or she perhaps) handled itself nicely for the most part. After a while of getting bobbed up and down he dropped his jaw open like he was sick, but he survived well enough.

What a Week

2009-06-14T00:52:00.000-07:00

Well, it’s been a long week. Partly because it’s been pretty busy work wise. Also because I was a bit under the weather, but I’m getting over that now. Hopefully I can have a healthy end of Summer. Where does that term “under the weather even come from? As if someone could be “over the weather”. Also, it’s always a bit stressful starting a new job, and although I must hide it rather well because people tell me I’m a very confident person, I’m very accustomed to second guessing myself which isn’t always a bad thing, yet isn’t always a good thing. I’m just glad the week is over. I think I may miss Prospector actually. Mainly because the drama is just to good there, and I hear it'll really be picking up the day after I leave. On one hand, it's very sad. On the other, it's quite amusing and makes for an entertaining workplace. I'll also miss the great discounts, speaking of which, I just ordered a big batch of SmartWool because my old ones are wearing out and I am resolved never to wear cotton socks again. They just feel too icky.

The Lost Detective

2009-06-12T00:24:00.000-07:00

A Plan

The next morning was a Saturday morning, but I didn’t sleep in. I couldn’t, I had urgent affairs to attend to. It’s uncanny how easily one can pull themselves out of the morning slothfulness when they have ambitions or something to aim for. I found myself pulling open the doors to my closet to discover a rack of several hangers only one of which carried a shirt.
“Need to go to the washers.” I mumbled, as my hand tugged the casual dress shirt from where it hung and my arms slipped through the sleeves. A mirror was suspended in front of me on the wall as I secured the buttons. I focused my vision in on the mirror and noticed a small tear in the fabric of my shirt where it must have caught on something.
“Stupid.”
Clothing flew through the air as I rummaged through my dirty hamper bin and pulled out a thin sweater. It was brought up to my nose for assessment.
“Meh.” I exclaimed, pulling it on, over my shirt.

Soon I was strolling through the park. I always had to remove myself from my small, stuffy apartment room to think clearly. Perhaps I subconsciously allowed the staleness of my accommodations to induce my mind’s congestion. However it was, I found myself often complying with the need to get away by strolling along the busy sideways and into bistros and frequently, through the park. Though, many would not call the Rue Morgue central park and actual park, and I always wondered why it was referred to as the “central park” when it was actually the only park in the city.
To be fair, it was probably the most pleasant, natural area one would find in the entire city but not a conventional park, though it made the effort. There was a play area once in the north area of the park. I had a few less than fond memories of playing in sand boxes and on swings with--or at least near--other children in my boyhood days. But the area had been removed due to population inflation sometime between my youth and maturity, or supposed maturity. Though there were walkways, it was rare to find someone strolling their dog or baby cart along these paved paths.
In fact, children or babies were only things you expected to view on occasion in Rue Morgue City. It never seemed to be much of a place to raise a family. In fact, it’s a bit hard to say what kind of a person makes up for the inhabitants of such a city. It was a place in which one could make money, so it wasn’t rare to see business men going about their, well, business. The city had strangely also obtained a fair amount of Canadian and European immigrants, coming in hopes of wealth, and some of what had shaped Rue Morgue over the years was influenced by foreign ideas.
My new jacket was left behind that Saturday morning as I had settled for jeans and my sweater top. The July heat was beginning to become almost unbearable for me. My legs carried me almost involuntarily along the pathways, through the scrawny aspen trees scattered about. The sun was out in full force but strangely, didn’t seem to brighten the small park. It was some how still dull and lifeless.
Color didn’t seem to exist in Rue Morgue. Sure, the grass was green, the sky was blue, but it was a lifeless blue, and the lushness of the green was absent. It seemed as though the emanation of the dour city had bleached its way into the contrasting life leaving all in it’s path blanched and murky. Perhaps I’m being melodramatic. Was it merely my perception? I might be persuaded to think so, but I was not the only one who saw the city this way.
A lone park bench sat there, near the path. Someone was seated on the left side of it behind a newspaper so I joined them, reaching for my mobile phone at the same time. My pockets were foraged in my squirming on the bench, and I extracted a small crinkled scrap of paper. I squinted at it as I entered the digits in on my phone. A right sleeve wiped the increasing perspiration from my forehead as I brought the phone up to my ear to hear the pulsing ring. It was answered promptly if not warmly.
“Uh yes,” I replied. “I would like to speak with Detective Bullit if that’s at all possible. Um, Joseph B. Low.” And then, “Of course.” after being instructed to wait a moment.
Minutes later I found myself twiddling my finger impatiently. The newspaper beside me was lowered revealing the soul behind. An old man, clothed a bit squalidly, folded up the paper and tilted his head back slightly, his eyes closed, catching a few rays of sun. My attention was drawn away suddenly as the now hot and sweaty devise held to my ear began to resonate once more, this time, with a professional, polite voice.
“Yeah, um Trace, how’s it going?” I replied. “Well, I’m working on this case right now with a small furniture warehouse business downtown on 555 Goldfish Street, and I’m doing some investigation on one of the owners. A Stefan Bork; there’s a chance he might be doing some seedy business. I was just wondering if you guys over there at the station have had any dealing with the guy or if you have any records of--”
He interrupted me with a less than hopeful surmising of what they might have in their records. My attention was drawn away from his prattling as I began to notice a few more people emerging in the park. Taking their daily strolls or shortcuts through the park on their way to work, the pathways began to populate. I could hear the faint snoring from the old man sitting near me. Then Tracer resumed the conversation, affirming his pessimistic assumptions and subsequently questioning me on what I thought I might be dealing with.
He didn’t care. At least that’s how I figured it; I could sense it in his tone. He was trying to communicate with me because he knew there was a distance between the two of us, and out of some skewed sense of duty felt some obligation to amend it. Or maybe he was attempting to reach out to me in pity because I wasn’t the man he was. Whatever it might have been, I wasn’t certain, I had decided it didn’t concern me, and so I made small talk to appease him.
“Yeah, it’s just this paranoid little man who wants me to check out his business partner because he’s suspicious of illegal activity.”
He continued the chatter, but my notice was side tracked once more. Some irritating figure of bright red flickered to the far right of my vision. At first I hadn’t evan consciously realized it was there. It was only some strange distracting glitter of movement. As it came nearer I came to recognize what the object was. A female jogger in a loose red tracksuit was plodding along the pathways, a small overweight dog leashed to her wrist and her shabby ponytail bouncing behind her, yet it didn’t look as silly as one would think.
Then I at a closer glance I realized two things that startled me for some reason. In fact, more than startle, they frightened me. Firstly, the jogging girl was her, Sidney’s friend from the funeral reception. And secondly, the pathway she was running along lead right past me and the bench I was so graciously sharing with the snoring old man whose snores were growing louder by the way.
“Oh yeah, of course Trace.” I said, trying to wrap up the conversation. “Well, I felt like demonstrating the warmth of my heart and looking into it for the poor guy. Anyway, I really should go. Yeah, talk to you later.”
I slipped the mobile phone back into my pocket and reached over for the old man’s paper gently. He shifted sleeping positions suddenly as I slowly eased the newspaper out from underneath his palm. She was coming closer every second. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize me, but I had to be safe. The newspaper was opened to its full width and I began to read, though, nothing in particular. Soon I heard the sound treading shoes rise and fade as they passed by me. In peeking over the top of the paper, I caught a glance of them running along, the plump, little dog panting frantically.
Worst case scenario? She might have stopped, and wanted to talk about stuff. It’s happened before to me. You brush ways with one of them and they start bringing up things neither you, nor they, really wish to talk about, but they are brought up non the less for the sake of conversation. At least I that’s the reason I gave myself for hiding behind the newspaper. It was a panicking instinct, one I couldn’t completely explain.
But truthfully, I think there was something about her that intimidated me, and it wasn’t just the fact she was female. She seemed so at ease with life, when I first met her with Sidney, and also now. There in the park, jogging along with her dog. Something about her emanated the feeling that she really had it all together, all figured out, and it was plausible if that makes any sense. Do intuitions make sense? Even so, it didn’t seem possible to me, or for me I should say. It was an unfeasible state of being I had learned to never expect to attain.
I brushed the confusing, useless thoughts from my mind and directed the brainpower I had left to working out plans for my investigative strategy. To be honest, I didn’t expect there to be anything worth investigating, but as long as I was being paid, I felt it necessary to earn my money. What I needed to find out was whether Peter Lorre’s imagination was getting the better of him, or whether there was something worth looking into.
I figured the smartest thing to do, at the time, would be to go straight to anyone who was involved with the work at the warehouse and question them to see if their intuitions were similar to Peter Lorre’s, but first I needed to get further information about this furniture business. Find out what its purpose was, who its clients were, how it was managed, and just general details. It’s always good to know as much as you can about a case; any number of details could help you out further down the line.
The man next to me broke out of his snoring. I folded up the paper and handed it to him.
“Oh, why thanks.” He exclaimed, accepting it.
“Say nothing of it” I replied “I’m finished with it anyhow.”
I rose to my feet and joined the other souls plodding along the pathways. There was no time to be reading, I had to begin investigating.

Job Search

2009-05-30T23:47:00.000-07:00

Well, I've had somewhat of a busy week. Well, busy for me, which means slightly less lazy than normal. I went in for a sort of trial/training day at a local law office for a receptionist/bookkeeping position and it seemed to work out well. It's actually kinda funny. You see, they gave me a few basics when I first showed up, and then eventually everyone who was working that day wandered off to run errands and such, and I was the only person left there. Thankfully, nothing huge came up and they came back to take over again for me.
It was amusing. Intimidating and overwhelming also, but that tends to be the case with pretty much any job on the first day. The people seem nice and sportive so I'm hoping it all works out, but from what I've heard so far, I don't think I have much to worry about. I also like the guy whose gonna be showing me the ropes in the bookkeeping part. He's pretty understanding and easy to work with, polite to.
I go back again next week for to more full days so we'll see what happens then. Anyways, just thought I'd jump on and let everyone know what I've been up to lately.
Until next time...

Friday Movie Night

2009-05-22T23:05:00.000-07:00

Penn Jillette the Athiest

I know he's creepy, but just watch the whole thing. It's very interesting... And convicting.

Spring

2009-05-19T18:49:00.001-07:00

Well, I woke up after an hour of attempted sleep last night swatting at the high pitch buzzing around my ears. I had been tossing and turning and scratching for all of that hour, but being as I’m a deeply heavy sleeper, it had taken me forever to realize a mosquito had been slowly sucking every drop it could get out of me. I had about 7 or 8 swollen bites on one arm alone. Well, what can you say? It’s finally spring. Sleeping at night with the window wide open, sitting around on the porch, reading, drinking iced coffees or teas and writing a little on my MacBook. The sun hasn’t really gotten on my nerves much yet; as long as I sit in the shade it’s still enjoyable to be outside, but I do enjoy my overcast days when they come. I’ve still gotten away with wearing my beloved sweaters once in a while without overheating. Even though working part time doesn’t bring in the bucks, I’m still glad I’m getting some days off to enjoy spring while it lasts.

lol
Goob has been chasing Caspian around the house. I think they both find it equal enjoyable; Mom, however, does not. Caspian lands on her shoulder and Goob jumps on Mom to get him. I think the bird enjoys taunting this puppy.

Monday Review

2009-05-19T01:03:00.000-07:00

Melody Gardot

I was at B&N a while back and heard something that peaked my interest coming from the overhead speakers. I've always enjoyed Jazz, now the jazz field is huge and there are many different types of Jazz most of which I know nothing about. But I've always liked the standards, Swing Band and Smooth Jazz. I went and asked the girl working in the electronics station what they were playing, and she pointed me out to Melody Gardot's new album My one and Only Thrill. So I went home, hopped on iTunes and gave a listen to her samples. She's great, for the most part. It's kinda hard for me to explain, you just have to go listen to her yourself. Soft, smooth, slow but very absorbing. There's some great horns, unbelievable strings although used rarely, nice jazz organ, and perfect use of scat which she does quite well. I would defiantly recommend her to anyone.

A few of her best songs are from the new album are Your Heart is as Black as the Night (the sax is cool in this one), Les etoiles(French lyrics are always great), The Rain and Deep Within the Corners of my Mind(very quiet and slow, but still captivating) My One and Only Thrill and If the Stars Were Mine (Orchestral Version)(amazing strings which add an incredible layer of ominousness). It has some really good stuff. She has two albums, and the first one has a few great songs, but isn't the greatest as a whole.

Some complaints are that all of her songs are love songs(which isn't surprising considering the genre) and some of them go too far. And some of her publicity photos are a bit unseemly which seems to be a common thing nowadays.

Here's some words I found about her on Amazon.

Gardot's presence both lyrically and musically lend themselves to someone far beyond her years, yet she had her first introduction to the world of music only a short while ago when she earned some spare cash by playing in piano bars. She was just 16.

"Music wasn't something I thought I'd wind up doing," she admits. "I played on Fridays and Saturdays, for four hours a night. I wasn't your typical player though because I only played music that I liked, a mix of things old and new.

It was only after an automobile accident while riding her bicycle home that the path Gardot has set out on began to change. Struck suddenly by a vehicle, she suffered multiple pelvic fractures, spinal, nerve and head injuries. Several of the effects have left their marks in various ways such as requiring Gardot to carry a cane and sport shaded glasses to combat residual photosensitivity.

Since Gardot had dabbled in music the past, during a follow up visit one day, her doctor suggested she try music therapy as a means for recovery. Specifically, he believed it would help her with her cognitive problems as music has been known to help repair neuropathways in the brain after severe trauma. However, her doctor can't have imagined the far-reaching consequences. While still unable to walk, Melody began writing and recording songs on a portable multitrack recorder at her bedside.

"I started recording the songs as a way to remember what I'd done; I had really bad short-term memory problems," she explains. "At the end of the day I couldn't remember the beginning".

These songs she wrote during her recuperation were released as a six-song EP called Some Lessons: The Bedroom Sessions. After hearing it, one critic commented that it was "a trick of alchemy that awful pain and uncertainty can give rise to such bold and striking music."

Although Melody claims she was never a fanatical music buff with a vast and esoteric record collection, she knows how to get the results she wants with her own songs.

Melody's debut album `Worrisome Heart' introduced, in The Sunday Times' words: "a remarkable talent by any measure", with songs of quiet, wistful poetry in arrangements that "ooze after-hours sophistication". Yet the follow-up, for release in April 2009, marks a substantial leap forward. `My One And Only Thrill' is an intensely creative milestone, transcending genre distinctions of jazz and blues to offer a haunting personal musical statement that will appeal to all music-lovers. As with her acclaimed live shows she captures and holds her audience in the palm of her hand.

Hey All

2009-05-18T00:26:00.000-07:00

I've been having allergy issues. I know we all like to brag on the Humphrey's superior genes because we tend to survive tough viruses and never seem to have health problems. I guess I'm the weak link. Anyhow, I'm getting all these sneezing fit like every 10 minutes. It didn't help when I went to rake the yard outside and kept running into pollen on the trees. I think it all started when I let one rather dirty beagle and another not so clean English lab spend the night with me. Actually, to be fair I prolly forced them to, and they weren't that dirty, but they definitely had some sort of seasonal enzymes all over them. I can't resist though. It's like having huge, warm, soft teddy bears.

Well, I'm enjoying Bekah's new book club. I've already started the first book and although it's not something I would usually read on my own, I'm finding it interesting and somewhat engaging. I'm looking forward to reading all the other books we have on our list that would never get around to reading or even thought of outside of the book club.

Okay, check out this amazing invention. If I was a serious gamer I'd be all over this. Just buy a huge monitor and nice big set of surround sound headphones. The best part, when you'd get tired at 3:00am, you could just lean back and fall asleep without going to your bed. No, I'm joking, I'd never do that, but it does look insanely comfy.

Anouncement

2009-05-12T22:24:00.000-07:00

Hey, just wanted to tell everyone to head over here to hear the big announcement.

Edit: Oh sorry, apparently some people are having trouble noticing the link. I'll make it foolproof for you all.

>CLICK HERE<

Monday Review

2009-05-12T01:10:00.000-07:00

Hey, today I'll be reviewing my new chinos from NanaPub. Heh heh...

Actually this is just an excuse to let everyone know I finally got to buy something from Banana Republic. I know, it's just a boring pair of khaki pants, but still, I've always wanted to get something from Banana Republic.

For those of you who have never heard of them, they have great clothing for men. I think their clothing for women is prolly poor, but I wouldn't really know cause I don't waste time looking at women's clothing so I can't help you there. But, as I was saying, the men's is great, but very expensive. You can check out their website here if you want to see. If you have a problem with coveting clothes, then it's prolly best you stay away though. I call them NanaPub just because it sounds cool. Anyway, I should prolly go ahead and review the pants.

They're the best khaki pants I've ever had. Very comfy, perfect fit, perfect feel, perfect everything. Casual, yet dressy enough to where for my brother's wedding. In fact me and Jordan both got a pair for that purpose. I like them.

School: Weeks #11, #12, & #13

2009-05-10T23:58:00.000-07:00

:)
I know, it's been a long time. Why? Well, to answer that as truthful as I possibly can: I've been lazy. The streak of not posting was getting kinda fun and relaxing, but I couldn't keep it up for long. So I finished school, and now I'm looking for a new job. I still have my old job, I'm just trying to find something better for this summer and possibly winter. I'm supposed to be going in for an interview some time this week, but we'll see what happens. This is my 200th post so that's a nice big number. The monstrous announcement that I've been talking about is going to be revealed Tuesday if everything works out. Believe me, you'll be interested. I think It's gonna turn out to be a blast. Anyway, just wanted to say welcome back to my blog, I'm posting again.

Friday Movie Night

2009-05-01T20:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I stumbled on this little viral campaign for a movie being produced by Peter Jackson a while back, and it was really interesting. There's a short film(Alive in Joburg) made by the guy who's directing District 9(see trailer below) that was an experiment to show what the film might be like before they decided to make it. Anyway, I'm glad the video fell through and that it's comeing out this August because it looks very interesting. Anyways, if you want to check out the viral campaign, then take a look at these sites.

MultiNationalUnited

Satellite Surveillance, Johannesburg, Africa, District 9

Maths From Outer Space

MNU Spreads Lies (George's Blog)

Tanukashi

Went Black

2009-04-30T16:42:00.000-07:00

Hey, it seems my blog went black for a while. It's finales so I've been busy, but I'm finishing up everything now so I'll start posting again. Of course, this also means no TLD today, but to make up for that who can watch the Maltese Falcon in 7 minutes.

Anyway, I enjoyed this having seen the movie a few times. They don't do detectives like that anymore. Oh, and if anyone wants the whole thing of TLD, you can read it now here.

Friday Movie Night

2009-04-25T02:01:00.000-07:00

I thought this was interesting.

Friday Movie Night

2009-04-18T00:42:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess it would be safe to say foxes LOVE trampolines. YouTube "fox trampolines" and you get tons of results. Check these ones out.
BTW, I wish we could see foxes in urban areas in Alaska like that. They're so cute. Could you imagine having a little fox pet?

The Lost Detective

2009-04-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

First Client

Sid was painting again and hopefully for the finale time. He had decided to go ahead and add the fact that Joseph was indeed a licensed detective to the glass on the door. Standing there, in the hallway, with the same pair of spattered pants and an earphone plugged into his head, he checked his watch for the time.
“Hm, should be here any minute now.”
His steady hand carefully finished up the finale letters on the glass pane, and he stepped back for a better look but was awakened out of his absorption when he felt a light tapping on his shoulder.
“Oh,” he exclaimed, pulling the earphone out. “sorry about that, didn’t see you.”
The person doing the tapping was a short, strange looking man in his early thirties. He had a roundish face and big eyes and was dressed in a fine suit and tie with his hair combed over sharply to the side.
“Hm, is this a Detective’s office?” He asked in a jittery, quite voice. “I need one, oh so very badly.”
“Yes, yes indeed. This is the office of detective Joseph B. Low.” Sidney replied.
The man’s eyes were fixed on the glass pane and he said “You should try stenciling, it’s so much easier.”
“Yeah? That’s for the amateurs.” Sidney replied again, waving the idea off with his hand, too proud to admit he wasn’t smart enough to think of that before.
“But I think the balance isn’t right? It’s slanted wrong, and I think the letters on the right are thicker than the left.”
“No no, it’s all good.”
The man squinted. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, quite.”
“Hm,” He said, timidly. “Is he really licensed? The detective I mean.”
“Hm-huh.” Sidney affirmed, nodding his head. The man turned to walk away.
“Whoa whoa whoa, where are you going?” Sidney asked, putting away his brush and walking after the man. “What are you doing?” He grabbed hold of the small man and stopped him.
“I wasn’t looking for a licensed one, detective I mean.” The man replied, ducking his head slightly like a dog preparing to be hit.
“You don’t want a licensed detective?”
“No, not really.”
“Oh, yes you do. Don’t worry, it’s fine. Besides, he’ll be here anytime now and then you won’t have a choice.”
The man stood there ringing his hands. “I guess that might be alright.”
“Of course it will be. Come on.” Said Sidney pulling the man through the door and into the reception room. “Besides, that whole licensed thing, that’s just something we put on the door.”
Sidney took a seat behind his desk. “Alright, your name please.”
“Why do you need to know my name?” asked the man.
“Um, we just do. We keep records. What’s your name?”
“What’s your name?” The man asked, turning the tables.
“Sidney, Sidney Eathen Kik. You can call me Sid though, everyone else does. Nice to meet you.”
“Your name is Kik? My that’s very strange. Do you kick people?” As far as Sidney could tell, the man was sincere.
“Only on the weekends.”
“Oh, of course you don’t. That’s a silly question. My name is Lorre, Peter Lorre.”
“Alright,” Said Sidney, typing away at his laptop. “Peter Lorre. And what’s your plight? Looking for your dog’s chew toy?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that Mr. Kik.”
“Well you don’t look like the type with a cheating girlfriend.”
“Oh, no. I have a wife and we’re very happily married for five years.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m so happy for you. Now, what brings you to this P.I. office?”
“Well, I think I might rather talk to the Detective about my situation if you don’t mind Mr. Kik”
“No, that’s fine. Have it your way. He should be in shortly, but you can wait in his office if you’d like.”

I made my way through the Rue Morgue City night life. The same side walk I had traveled on that morning, yet an entirely different world. City lights on either side of me, people rushing from the daily drudge rather than towards it. Tired, lifeless souls, ready to bring a day of toil to its end. And so was I, but life just isn’t that easy. I reached the premises of the Playback Club, and drug my feet up the stairs, one step at a time. I was ready to crawl in bed and hide under my blankets, but I had business to attend to, so I wandered up and into my P.I. office where I was pleasantly greeted by my receptionist.
“Hello Joseph, how was your day.”
I Gave him a kind of blank stare, replying theatrically, “Must you always ask such questions? How is it going here?”
“Hm, not so bad. There’s a Mr. Lorre waiting for you in the office.”
“Really? Well that’s good news for a change.” I remarked, hanging my hat and jacket on a small coat rack. “Has anyone else come by?”
“No just him. He’s kind of a shy little man.”
“What are you Saying? I need to go easy on him like the last girl.”
“No, I’m sure you’ll be fine. In fact, he’s kind of entertaining.”
“Okay, whatever. I’m going in.” I declared, turning the doorknob to the office. “Wish me luck. Oh, and by the way, I’m officially licensed now.”
“Excellent,” Sid replied raising his eyebrows drearily. He always had a way of declaring his elation with the most boring face expressions.

He was standing there, in front of the wide window, looking out into the night. I could see his reflection dimly in the glass as I entered the room.
“Enjoying the night time city view Mr. Lorre?”
He didn’t respond. I paced slowly across the room, unscrewing the lid to a bottle of water I had carried along with me.
“There’s no denying it. The Rue Morgue night can be quite a haunting phenomena.”
Again, nothing. From what I could see of the funny little man’s expression, it seemed as entertaining as Sid had promised.
“You know how Rue Morgue City got its name Mr. Lorre?”
Finally, “How is that Mr. Low?” His voice was foreign, European.
I smiled briefly. “Well, according to the legend, this land was once a Native war camp. During the French and Indian war there was a French outpost quite a ways north of here called Fort Saint-Pierre. The French sent down a horde of these savage Indians to hash it out with the Indians that were already settled here. So there was this horrific battle of carnage and death. I guess the body count got pretty high and after the defenders stuck it out, there were only corpses everywhere to show for their efforts. Now these Indians that survived knew that it wouldn’t be long before the French soldiers would come down to claim there new land, and they would have to take a hike. But they were faced with a problem you see.”
I paused to watch the man tug at his collar nervously, his eyes wide in the reflection on the glass. He turned his head towards me.
“And what would that be Mr. Low?”
“Well, these Indians were superstitious saps,” I continued. “and they believed that for the spirits of their dead to rest peacefully in the afterlife they had to be buried at the place of their birth. So there was this big fiasco because the Indians couldn’t decide whether to pack up there dead and take them with, or to dig a hole for them. In the end it would have slowed them down too much to pack the bodies, and almost impossible to find each one’s place of birth, so they had to prepare the bodies for burial and have their ceremonies and what not, and finally they got them all dealt with and took off. So then these Frenchies all showed up and decided they wanted to build a a big new fort. Only the French would be stupid enough to build on a graveyard, but that’s what they did, and they called it Fort Rue Morgue for obvious reasons.”
I lifted my bottle and sipped the warm water.
“Mr. Low?”
“Yes?”
“Is it true?”
“Well, I couldn’t tell you something like that. I’m not an expert on history you know, but some say, after all these years, there are still Old Indian spirits wandering the streets at night, searching for a place where their souls can rest for eternity.”
A gulp could be heard from down deep in his throat as he turned back towards the window.
“Oh, it’s dark out there Mr. Low.”
“Yes, well enough of these superstitious legends. Take a seat.”
He did.
“And what should I call you?”
“My name’s Peter, but you can call me Mr. Lorre.”
“It’s nice meeting you. As you know, I’m Joseph B. Low, licensed Private Investigator.” I said, whipping out my new license.
“Hm,” He noised, squinting at the small rectangular card. “Joe Low?”
“What?”
“Your certification, it says Joe Low.”
I flipped the card around. My jaw clenched and I struggled to suppress the rage boiling up inside me. I turned away from him.
“Is something wrong Mr. Low?”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to restrain the oncoming headache.
“No, actually. It’s a, all fine. All’s well.”
“Oh, that’s good. I thought something terrible had happened.”
I tried to push it out of my mind, change the subject. Something had been gnawing at my mind ever since I had began the conversation. I downed the rest of the water.
“You’re not from here Mr. Lorre, are you?
“No, I’m not. Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. Your accent though, it’s very familiar.”
“I’m from Austria.”
“Hm, we seem to get a lot of Europeans in Rue Morgue. I wonder where they all come from.”
“I’m not sure Mr. Low, I came to America to earn money.”
I took the seat opposite from him across the small desk.
“So Mr. Lorre, what brings you here?”
His eyes darted slightly around the room, as if someone was hiding in a corner, listening. Then he leaned forward towards me, close enough for me to see his broad, sweaty forehead.
“I’m part of a business partnership. We run a small workshop in a building down town.”
I pulled a pen from a drawer in the desk.
“You and who else?”
“His name is Stefan Bork.”
“And the address?”
“It’s 555 Goldfish Street. I know it sounds funny, but that’s the truth.”
“What does the business do?” I asked, recording the information on the palm of my hand.
“We build furniture for people in the workshop and sale it to them. You should buy some for your office.”
“You know, that’s a good idea.”
“Yes, It’s very empty in here, kind of eerie.”
“You know it is? I hadn’t noticed until now. Anyways, go on.”
“Well, I’ve worked with Stefan for a long time. I traveled to America with him; he’s Austrian to you know. I’ve had a good experience working with him for the most part, but I’m starting to notice strange things.”
“Like what?”
“Well Mr. Low, he runs the finances and the records, and I don’t mind this at all, but he has the system locked on the computer and he won’t give me the password. When ever I want any information I have to let him look it up for me.”
“And this is a problem because?”
“Well, lately he’s been very controlling and secretive about the company.”
He paused to wipe his forehead with a hen-kerchief. “I’m sorry Mr. Low, but I have to ask. Do you have any cigarettes?”
“No, I’m not a big fan of the death sticks. Now finish your story.”
“Well I approached him and asked him about this and he got angry Mr. Low. Oh, very angry. I think he’s into something...” he looked me in the eye and whispered. “illegal.”
My confidence in the potential case was wavering. I could easily see this small paranoid man imagining things.
“I don’t want to get in trouble for it.” He continued, “He could run and leave me to get in a mess for his doings.”
“I see.” I replied, very seriously. “It doesn’t sound good, not good at all. I’ll tell you what I’ll do Peter.”
“Oh please, Mr. Low.”
“Two hundred bucks a day. I’ll investigate until I either find something, or until you get tired of paying me.”
“Oh, Mr. Low.” He exclaimed. “Two hundred dollars. So much money.”
“You can go price shopping, but I doubt you’ll find anything better.”
“How do I know you wont waste your time and I pay you for nothing?”
“This is detective Joseph B. Low your paying. He doesn’t do that.” I rose from my chair. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
“Ok Mr. Low.” He said standing with me. “Two hundred dollars, oh my. Don’t tell Stefan I talked to you. He could do something to me.”
“No, of course not.” I replied showing him the door. “Have a lovely evening Mr. Lorre.”
“I’ll try to Mr. Low.”
He made his way out, leaving me in the reception room with Sidney.
“Sid, find me some paper. I need to right this stuff down.”
Sidney ripped a page from a nearby notebook.
“Didn’t I tell you he was entertaining Joe?” He asked, handing me the paper.
“Indeed.”I replied, copying the letters on my hand to the page. “You know Sidney, if we can get more chumps like him coming in here, we just might have a worthwhile business to run.”

Romans 7

2009-04-16T00:07:00.000-07:00

For we know that the law is spiritual: but I am carnal, sold under sin. For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I. If then I do that which I would not, I consent unto the law that it is good. Now then it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do. Now if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. I find then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin.

I don't think there's any way for anyone to describe the Christian life more truthfully than Paul did here. That is MY life 100%. I love reading parts of the Bible like this that are so upfront and truthful, and you can grab a hold of them and sympathize with the writer. Now this doesn't mean someone can blame it all on the flesh. He emphasizes our own WRETCHEDNESS. In fact, this passage does such a great job that it's a waste of my time trying to elaborate on it.

God's Will

2009-04-14T20:56:00.000-07:00

I've heard a lot of talk about God's will lately and I think it's an interesting subject. I've thought about it before, and am pretty sure of where I stand on the subject of how to know God's will. First of all, I think it's rarely a hard thing to know, God's will that is. And usually when I'm confused about it it's because I want to do something I shouldn't be doing and I'm trying to convince myself that it's God's will. The hardest time for me to know God's will is when I either don't like it, or I failed to follow it and ended up in confusing, messy circumstances. While were on the subject of God's will, perhaps we should talk about how God communicates.
Firstly, I don't think He communicates through prayer. Don't get me wrong, payer is sweet fellowship with God, but it's more of a one way conversation. It's confessing to Him, thanking Him, praising Him, and bringing Him requests. He doesn't tell you anything during prayer. He doesn't give you any commands. He won't say yes or no to my requests unless, through my conscience, His Holy Spirit convicts me of something I've wrongfully asked for. But like I said, it's a one way conversation for the most part. One thing that I can request is for God to help me find His will and that He would grant me peace about my decision if it's in alignment with what He would have me to do.
Now if He doesn't speak to me through prayer, than how? Well, through the Bible of course. The Bible itself tells me that everything God wants me to know is in it pages. That means it's complete. I can know God's will in ANY situation by going to the Bible. It's really that easy.
Now how about when I don't know God's will, and can't find anything God has to say about my situation in the Bible? That's when I need to go to someone wiser than myself and ask what their opinion is. They can show me things I've never seen before in the Bible and they can also tell me when I've misinterpreted God's word.
I don't think God would bring anything into anybodies life that He wouldn't have an answer for in His word, it's usually when we've made bad decisions that we find ourselves in a confusing place where it's hard to know exactly what we should do, but His will can always be found in the Bible.
One other thought I had is about peace. You can't always trust it. It's a feeling. Peace usually comes when I have something solid to found it on. If I can base a decision on God's word, then I can have real peace of mind in what I'm doing. That's where peace should come from. Not just feeling peace, but having it because I have proof that I'm doing what God wants me to. Truth is, there have been times where I've felt terrible when doing something I absolutely knew God wanted me to do. Does that mean it's wrong? No, it means I can't trust my feelings. It doesn't matter what I feel about what I'm doing, it only matters what the Bible says about it.
Anyways, I apologize for the long post and if you've made it this far I feel sorry for you. I don't think what I'm saying is anything knew to anyone, I just thought I would put up my views on it because I've been hearing the topic brought up a lot.

Apologies

2009-04-12T14:26:00.000-07:00

Oh hey, I guess the Sunday morning comic thing is a no go. I had the idea a while back and had dismissed it, but I forgot why. Now I remembered, webcomics are to big to fit on a blog. Blogger really needs to widen the whole window with all the posts, at least to fit youtube vids without having the edge cut off. Anyway, the webcomics are all copy righted anyway so it's prolly a better idea just to look the sites yourself. I definitely recommend OneSwoopFell, check out the link on my sidebar.

School: Week #10

2009-04-12T00:43:00.000-07:00

Ah, I pretty much have all the huge projects out of the way for school. All that's left is one big Payroll thing that I've been putting off. I'm nearing the last stretch for English which is nice because while it's been comparatively fun and challenging, I'm really getting sick of it all. The whole "We need to look at subjects from other types of peoples perspectives. After all everyone is raised very differently and they have their opinions for a reason." junk is really starting to get up my nose. The fact that someone sees a topic differently than you doesn't change whether it's right or wrong. I dunno, I just want out. I kinda have no idea what's gonna happen with my grades this year. I'm guessing at least two Bs, which hurts. I'm sure I could have gotten everything if I had tried harder. Then again, school isn't my life. It's a means to an end. I'm really liking the new class I picked up. It's kinda reinforcing everything I've learned and applying it to more practical stuff. But yes, I'm almost through. Hopefully I can get a nice job and enjoy a school free summer.

Friday Movie Night

2009-04-10T17:05:00.000-07:00

Banana Man vs. Alien Man
Who has more credibility?

I realized something really funny. Dawkins gets his origin theories from Stargate mythology. In Stargate they say the ancients(aka the Altarans) seeded the galaxy with life. I think I'll trust the Bible over science fiction. He's such a fool.

America the Beutiful?

2009-04-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

I'm going to share a little opinion with you here. Hopefully no one gets annoyed with this, but hey, I think it's time people stop looking at life through rose colored glasses. This world is so evil. They don't even know it.

I'm not proud to be an American, and I think it's a good bet to say I never will be again. I'm proud of my countries lineage and history, but what it has become is something so revolting that I just can't say I'm proud.
So, what should we do about this? Well, there's a lot of stuff that people are trying to do that I think we should just stop doing. I think we should stop grasping at straws and trying to hold on to what's left. I think we should stop trying to fight against the pro gay-marriage bills, stop praying for Christian leaders, stop fighting against abortion. I think pretty much anything political we should stop. Just wait though, there's a reason for why I think this.
Now as far as voting, yes, go ahead and vote for what you think is best. Don't expect for the best to happen though, because it won't. As far as telling people that abortion and homosexuality is wrong, go ahead, you should be telling them that. But stop trying to make America something it no longer is.
America has chosen its path and God is cursing them because of it. I'm not talking 9/11 cursing. 9/11 was a blessing. It was God's gracious attempt to wake up this evil nation and we thought about it for a few days and then went back to normal. I would be happy to see God bless us with more trials and wake up calls like that. It would be nice to see Him bless this country by making its economy crash and leaving the citizens helpless and without hope.
But God is cursing this country. He is cursing us by allowing America to go on in there sin. He's cursing us by allowing mothers to murder their babies and allowing everyone to sleep with everyone, allowing the people of America to blaspheme His name and go rot their brain out with the filth at the theaters. Just the fact that God is allowing this country to live in sin, proves that we are being cursed. God has turned America over to a reprobate mind and is punishing them and I think we as Christians should just get out of the way.
America has chosen, and I think we, like God, should let them have their way. Stop the politics, stop trying to make America the good country it once was. The only thing we can do is spread the gospel and declare right and wrong because that is the only thing that will change people's hearts.
Eventually America will fall on its face and crash and the people left to pick up the pieces will be us; we will be the only one's with the answers. I think we should pray that God would bring America down fast and let America have its way.

Then again, depending on how bad it gets we could all be persecuted, but hey, that's prolly good for us anyway. Don't get me wrong. I really don't want to become a martyr or to be drug out into the streets and stuff. I just want people to scorn us and hate us. Why? It's a whole lot easyer to tell someone who hates you that their going to Hell than someone who loves you. I get really lazy and afraid to talk to people about God when I get a long with them, but if they have opposeing views and hate Christianity, then it's easyer.

I also think it would seperate the flakes from the non flakes. I so tired of people who claim to be Christians but show no friut or back down from what's right. I know I have major issues in my life, don't get me wrong, but I also have a desire to do what's right(only by the grace of God). Most of the people I know who claim to be Christians don't have that. Most of the churches I know who claim to be baptist don't have that. I want to know whose side they're really on, and if we were all pushed to take a stand some true colors would show through.

A word on TLD

2009-04-09T00:53:00.000-07:00

Hey, I was just going to explain some stuff about TLD. I'm still working on it and am not going to give it up. Sooner or later I'll put all the parts together and put them up somewhere so that people can read them without having to jump from post to post.
I keep finding flaws and stuff and a few holes poked in what I've done so far. For instance, I didn't really do any research on how they do background checks and how long it takes to get licenses. I'm just trying to get the story typed up so when it's done I can go back and rewrite flaws like that. The meat of the story is there though so over look plot holes or whatever and try to enjoy.
Nextly, what did you think of the music choice on that last one? I'm sure all you closed minded individuals thought it was "weird". Anyway, I thought the sound of the song kinda matched what was going on in Joseph's head. Besides, I just love that song. It's Pachad by Yael Naim. I also thought the lyrics(translated of course)matched quite nicely with Josephs character.
It's Hebrew and the word pachad means fear in Hebrew. I think the song is about a father trying to get his little daughter to overcome fear and learn how to swim, and figuritively I think it's about her getting over fear and learning how to make it through life and find out what kind of a person she will become.
This is what the translation is at the end of the song.

Give me a hand, want you to try by yourself
This is the time that you will bloom forever
Swim alone now, he says
Want you to bloom forever
It's time that you figure out who you are
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?

What do you think? I thought it matched with Joseph's character and his sort of confused internal struggle. It's fun to write character who have mental issues. lol
Yeah, I'm kinda weird like that, but that's okay. I like me that way.

Is Internet a Curse or Blessing?

2009-04-07T17:22:00.000-07:00

I love the Internet and my macbook and think they're pretty much a necessity of life. I don't know how I'd make it through school without them, but at the same time, they seem to be the biggest thing that distracts me from school. It's kinda ironic. That's okay though; I'm a big fan of irony. It also distracts me from pretty much everything else. Bible reading, praying, ect...
Last night I was kinda getting settled down and was gonna get some stuff done before going to bed and even make a blog post. But what happens? I go to check out some stuff real quickish online and: click, click click click, click, and a few clicks later I look at the clock and it's too late to do anything. I dunno, it seems like I could spend the rest of my life on my macbook without getting bored. I mean really, even if the Internet's down I still can write. The problem is that I'm a huge procrastinator and I end up surfing the web for hours instead of getting stuff done. That's why I fall behind a bit in school, I can usually always catch up though. That's why I don't get TLD finished in time. That's why I don't blog much. To get school done I have to go to a nearby coffee shop that humorously claims to be "Wi-Fi free"n and that's exactly why I go there. Anyway, there's my confession.
So I said something about blogging everyday a bit ago, which I'm still going to try and do. I always look at people's blogs, people I know and other popular blogs, and what they do is really cool. They're always posting and usually writing about interesting stuff and they have a website I don't mind dropping by everyday. And I say to myself "I wish I could be a real blogger like that." but really, what's stopping me? How hard is it to sit down and write something interesting everyday? So, I'm gonna try to keep posting. I don't have a lack of ideas and I don't have a lack of time. I just have an excess of web surfing in my life. I'll have to just say no to myself.
Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm telling you guys that I'm trying to post more often. I think I'll just do it without telling anyone and everyone can be surprised when they see a new post everyday. All four of them, if that many people are even still reading. Oh and as far as my side bar not working, I'm really not gonna concern myself with that. It's working on Safari just fine, and even on FireFox I think. As for those with Internet Explorer, you guys are hopeless anyways.

Comeing Soon

2009-04-05T17:27:00.000-07:00

I had decided earlier to start doing Sunday morning web comics because I've found some really cool ones lately and wanted to share. So every Sunday morning I'll be putting up a comic for everyone to follow. Aaron kinda already beat me to it, so if you want to read it a bit at a time, do not follow the link on his blog, if you just want to read it all now then go ahead. But next week I'll put up the beginning of the comic.

School: Week #9

2009-04-05T01:46:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone.
I'm here on this late Saturday night. Why? Because I was trying to finish my research paper all night. Argh, I'm gonna need a lot of coffee to make it through Sunday school tomorow. I think the reason I get so drowsy is beacause I'm always too relaxed. I'm just kind of a really layed back, relaxed person and in earlyer mornings I tend to doze off.
Hm, okay so I think I'm a failure. I'm sorry I havn't been posting much lately and that I MISSED TLD AGAIN! Not that anyone cares but me. If I don't keep up with my schedule then I may never finish it and that would be a shame because the ending is really cool. :) It's like Tobi cool though so no garentees that you'll like it. I already skipped a day earlyer so I need to crack the whip and get going.
Which reminds me, I'm starting the bloging thing with a clean slat tomorrow. Nothing too diferent, I'm just gonna try to post every day. Yes. I said every day. More on that later. BTW that's not the anouncement I was mentioning. The anouncement is much bigger. In fact, It's huge, gigantic, emence, earth shattering, years in the planning, and it's leaked on another blog, but I won't tell you where because you prolly haven't noticed.
I've been busy though. Schools a worthless drag but still kinda fun at the same time.
Later

Friday Movie Night

2009-03-27T14:40:00.000-07:00

Hey, I just thought I'd let you guys check out the newest product from Apple. It's unbelievable, revolutionary. I already preordered mine.

School: Week #8

2009-03-26T19:59:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm here, still. Kinda had a crazy week with three tests and three projects for writing. Speaking of which, I had a rather amusing dialogue with one of the writing consultants a bit earlier. It turns out he didn't like my short paper on the stupidity of post modernism, which Isn't all that surprising, him being a postmodern himself and all.You know what? I would actually have a blast in school if it wasn't for grades and all that rot. Because most people there, I disagree with and I usually end up arguing, and arguing is fun. I was talking about it today and I think it releases endorphins for me. But no, I didn't argue with him because I was concerned about get a good grade on the paper and I was only scheduled for a half hour. Well, to top the week off I've been dreadfully sick, but I think I'm pretty much over that; I've made a nice turn around and I don't feel too bad. In fact I feel rather well. Anyway, I've done my big retarded human relations finale and I think I got a pretty high score on it but I'm not sure how I'll do for the rest of the class because I got tired of doing the teachers useless assignments. I'll try to post more, honestly, I do have big plans for the bloging world. Look forward to a HUGE announcement comeing fairly soon. I just have to get permission from the higher athority. Well anyways, I'd love to keep typeing, but it's getting late so I'll see you round.

School: Week #7

2009-03-19T20:16:00.000-07:00

School=Stupid

The Lost Detective

2009-03-19T02:00:00.000-07:00

Licensed

“Yeah yeah, and thanks for flinging my paint halfway across the hallway!”
My mood was eased by Sid’s amusing fulminations. I offered my arm and helped him up.
“Oh, and my pants. Stuff like this doesn’t grow on trees. Look at that, it’s all over.”
I looked at his khakis, spattered with black paint. He always wore khakis, I think he might have been born with them.
“And you, you. Wipe that smirk off your face. I told you to be gentle. I told you she was fragile. Gentle, that doesn’t mean chasing her out of your office like it’s some sort of lion’s den.”
“Hey Sid, wait a minute. You’re the one that should have known better then to let her in there in the first place.”
“A lost doggy’s chew toy. Those were your exact words buddy; don’t blame this on me.”
“Well, there’s a massive deference between loosing a dog toy and loosing a boyfriend.”
He stopped for a second, and then raised his index finger. “Okay, you have a point there.”
We stood outside of the door, Sid with his finger raised and me blinking, a little confused. Black bits of paint were on the rug and walls of the hallway. Before we knew it we began to crack up into a laughter, and whatever small amount of tension there was had been dissipated.
“I’ll clean this up.” He said.
“Oh look,” My finger went toward the door, pointing out the glass window pain on which he’d been painting. “It didn’t even smear the paint job.”
“Oh wow, thankfully. I had just finished.”

We were closing up shop, putting away what little there was in the waiting room area later, Sid closing up his reception station, which pretty much consisted of his school laptop.
“Well Sid, it’s been fun, but it’s also gotten late, and I need sleep. This schedule's gonna kill me. A full day of work and then coming here for a few more hours. If I actually get a client I’m gonna be run ragged, but that’s a big if, so we’ll see what happens.”
“Yeah, seeya Joe. Oh, wait.”
“Yes?” I replied, putting on my hat and jacket.
“I was doing some research on P.I.s and somewhere it was saying that you’ll get more business if you’re licensed.”
“No no, I’m not messing with any exams or paperwork Sid. I’m not really a fan.”
“Wait a minute, different states do it differently. All it takes here is a background check.”
My eyes narrowed thoughtfully. That sounded easy. “Just a background check huh?”
“Yep, you can run down to the Police Department and they check you out and you’ll be good to go.”
“Hm, maybe I should run down there first thing tomorrow. You know your gonna have to repaint the door, or at least add the fact that I'm a “licensed” detective?”
“Yeah whatever, I’ll do that tomorrow. Let’s get out of here.”
He grabbed his things, and I opened the door.
“You know, you might want to wait on the door. With my luck I probably won’t even be able to pass the background check.”

I closed my eye’s again, hoping everything would fade into dreams, but I couldn't fool my mind. A dim light glowed through my window shades, the first sign of morning. I laid there waiting for the alarm to sound. Trying to catch a few precious moments of sleep. This is when my mind would do it’s thing. Start asking mad questions that I had no answers for.
What was I doing? Who was I? Why?
I began to fall through clouds of thoughts that could not keep me. Legitimate questions that offered nothing to support me in any credible way. Was this new obsession an actual attempt to do something right in my life or was it just a childish game? What was my real goal through all this? Did I know? Did I care? My mind drifted and began to drown in the smothering thoughts before the alarm wrenched me from my sleep. My hand grasped lazily towards the ruckus.
Shower, brush my teeth, gel my hair.

Crowds moved past me as I ambled down the streets. The morning rush was in full force, but I became voluntarily oblivious. People moved around me and I walked. Just walk on concrete. It moved beneath my feet as I passed by apartment complexes, oncoming cars, malls, side shops. A musician was playing away, his sweet sounds streaming from a window above me. I slipped my new bomber jacket off in the swelling July heat and tossed it over my shoulder. My head lifted and a stranger caught my eye.
I stopped in front of a shop window. The stranger was me, and so I looked at myself. My hat sat on my head, tilted slightly to the side and the leather gloves hung out of my back pocket. A little kid on halloween dressing like something he’s not. The hat was pulled off with one hand, and the other rose to sift hair between my fingers, styling it back into place.
“What?” I asked the figure before me, as if the eyes were looking back into mine expecting something. It shrugged back at me honestly, and I stood there wondering. Part of me worried, part of me never rested, but somewhere inside there was a sort of strange excitement built up competing with reality. Somehow, there was a hope that this whole chapter of my life might be the answer, that I might figure it out, who I was, what I was doing. The reflection discolored strangely and something in it began to move. I realized it was a white rag on the other side, cleaning the window. It moved in a circular motion, and I peered past my reflection, through the glass, to find a pretty girl on the other side waving at me while she cleaned with an amused smile on her face.

The Rue Morgue City Police Precinct had always caught my interest. It was located in the central area of the city, all jumbled together with the other legal departments, but what appealed to me was the aged building which held the police headquarters. It was old and gothic, like an ancient church now transformed into a place of law, standing tall in a city of darkness. I crossed the street and jogged toward it, the soft part of me taking in a lofty aura of gravity and respect as I moved beneath the arched doorways. I would have worked here, in this very building. I felt it was where I belonged, but no. It’s funny how reality isn’t really concerned with the aspirations or plans of a single man. Funny doesn’t seem like the right word.

Trace was a good guy, better than me. I knew him well, having spent the majority of my collegiate years with him. There are countless memories of early mornings and late nights studying in coffee shops. Well, him studying and me mostly crashing out in a cafe sofa. That could be the reason he went on to be the police detective and I did not. Some might say the fact that his father was the city police commissioner played into it, but regardless, Trace had earned it. He was always by the book, no compromise, no leniency, but not to the point that he lacked heart. It was good to see his face again.
“Joseph? Didn’t expect seeing you here today.” He lit up slightly, whether by joy or surprise, I was unable to read.
“Yeah, I didn’t expect to be here myself.” He straitened the tie to his perfectly practical suit and shook my hand.
“Well, how’ve you been?”
I shrugged. “You know how it is Trace.”
“Not exactly, with you I can never be sure, but I’ll just pretend you said you’ve been doing spanky for sake of conversation.”
“Ok, I can live with that.” I smiled, “No really, it hasn’t been all that bad. I actually dropped by because I wanted to acquire a license and I needed a background check.”
“A license? What kind?”
I sort of cringed at the probing question.
“Um, well I’m going into the private investigator business.”
His eyebrows raised. “Hm, yeah. I mean, that makes since I suppose. I mean, no need to let that education you paid for go to waste.”
His face and words were portraying two entirely different opinions. We both new it and stood there awkwardly until he continued.
“Okay, tell you what, I’ll get this background check dealt with. Um, give me a few minutes. It won’t take long.”
I sat on a near bench.

He reemerged from a hallway holding a paper.
“Here, all clear.” He stated, approaching me.
"That easy huh?"
"Yeah, we just do this so we can keep track of which P.I.s are honest in town. In a town like this you never know who you can trust, and if you stumble across a P.I. who's not licensed, it's usually a given that he's a scam." Here, just take this down to the licensing department and they should know what to do with it. Watch out for the guy who runs the desk. He’s kinda rough.”
“Okay, thanks Trace. It was good seeing you.”
“Oh also,” He added. “That’s gonna be twenty dollars. Sorry about not telling you before. I didn’t think of it.”
I sighed, rolled my eyes, and reached into my back pocket.

The elderly man glared at me through his narrow suspicious eyes.
“So, run that by me again Mr.” He said.
“Uh, they said to give this to you and you’d know what to do with it.”
“Did they?” He asked, examining the document. “That’s not usually what they say.”
“Well, that’s what they said this time. Why? Is there something wrong?”
“No no, it all looks in order. Except, the last names spelled wrong. Lowe is spelled with an E on the end.”
“I know how to spell my name.”
“One would hope.”
“Oh, and make sure you put the B in for my middle initial. They left that out on the paper deal.”
He swiveled his head up to me slowly, and then back down to the paper, and then spoke again.
“I’m gonna make a call down to the boys at the station, double check this one.”
I sighed, frustrated. “Okay, well I need to be at work in a few minutes so It’d be nice if we could hurry this along.”
I regretted saying that as he reached purposefully slow for the phone, eyes staring me down the entire time. His long, thin index finger dialed the extension, and the phone was placed firmly on his ear.
“Who’s this?” He asked abruptly, and waited for the reply. “Ah, Tracer we have a Joseph Low down here trying to acquire some sort of license. Do you know anything about this?” He paused, listening, while I reached for the candy tray.
“Wait, what do you mean Joe?” He began again. “It says Joseph on the paper here.” I unwrapped the foil around the candy and popped it into my mouth.
“Shh!” He rebuked me, and then returned to his phone conversation. “Ah, short for Joseph you say? Well, I suppose if you say so. Yes, talk to you later Tracer. Hm, goodbye.”
He hung the phone up and faced me again.
“It looks as if the document is in fact legitimate.”
“Well that’s good news.” I said, reaching for the candy bowl again. He snatched it away from me with lightning reflexes.
“Our department policy is only one candy per subject.”
My jaw dropped in disbelief as I stood there until I regained composer.
“Okay, I just want my license. I’m already gonna be late for work.”
“Very, well. That’ll be thirty dollars first. We take the payment up front. There’s no telling weather someone’s honest or not.”

Spring Break

2009-03-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

Well, I suppose I have enjoyed spring break. Relaxed, got my room kinda cleanish, went to a few hockey games. The first one had some serious face stomping going on, and the second one was a bit depressing. The fans are so stupid. Anyways, I'm not a very great blogger. There's stuff to say, I'm just too lazy to say it, especially if I'm not in the mood. I'll try to fix my stupid sidebar and comment issues. I've been working on TLD recently and enjoying it. I must say I wasn't impressed myself with that last one, but I'm just gonna let that go and when I finish the whole thing I can go back and touch up the old parts. I'm looking forward to being dropped off in town all day and left sitting there after classes to study, and then (when done studying hopefully) trying to think up something creative for my blog, music, or stories. It's probably my favorite thing to do in the world: sit in a coffee shop typing away at my laptop. While we're on this subject, I think I should share some of my favorite lyrics. I took one word out that was kinda questionable. I think this song is probably my favorite lyrics-wise, of course discounting any spiritual songs which always beat secular songs when it come to lyrics. This song just seems like the anthem of imagination and creativity. I'll let you decide for yourself.

Far far, there was this little girl
She was praying for something to happen to her
Everyday she writes words and more words
Just to spit out her thoughts that keep floating inside
And she's strong when the dreams come 'cause they
Take her, cover her, they are all over
The reality looks far now, but don't go

How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
Hm, Oh

Far far, there was this little girl
She was praying for something good to happen to her
From time to time there are colors and shapes
Dazzling her eyes, tickling her hands
They invent her a new world with
Oil skies and aquarelle rivers
But don't you run away already
Please don't go

How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
Take a deep breath and dive
There's a beautiful mess inside
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess, beautiful mess inside
Beautiful

Far far there was this little girl
She was praying for something big to happen to her
Every night she hears beautiful strange music
It's everywhere there's nowhere to hide
But if it fades she begs, "Oh
Don't take it from me, don't take it." she says

I guess I'll have to give it birth
There's a beautiful mess inside and it's everywhere
So shake it yourself now deep inside
Deeper than you ever dared
There's a beautiful mess inside

Dropping By

2009-03-13T00:31:00.000-07:00

Hey, just thought I'd say hi. I'll post later this week and fill you in on how it's been going, and hopfully I'll have the next TLD up next Thursday.

For now, you know how the inside of you computer screen gets all smudgy and kleghkly(I think Todd Friel might have that word copyrighted if you ever listen to Wretched Radio) and all gross, but you never know the best waay to clean it? Well I've finaly found the most efficiant method.

Click here to see. Oh, and credit goes to Mrs. Tozier. She found it first.

ttyl

School: Week #6

2009-03-05T13:18:00.000-08:00

Why, I’m Sorry...
Hey there guys, if anyone still stops by here anymore.
Uh, I know the story was supposed to be up today, but I only have one sentence of it written so far so, uh, yeah. I’ll finish it up over spring break though so don’t worry. I know you guys have all prolly fallen off the edge of your seat already from the tension and suspense, but you’ll just have to wait for it okay? So just chill for a bit. I’m joking.
I suppose you could say I just started missing my family, but it’s kinda too late now because they’re already gonna be home by tonight.
I’m loving the snow. It makes the day so much better, walking through the snow with it falling down and all. Oh, I’ve been a bit bummed lately cause my earphones broke so I’ve been waiting to buy new ones. Life seems really...bad, for lack of a better word, without music. I dunno, but I think music is definitely part of our mental sustenance, and our intellect would break down from lack of nourishment without it. In other words, people who live without music are stupid. lol
No, but seriously, I think it’s partially true.
Contrary to what you might hear on other blogs, we(me and the other two) are doing okay at home alone. No fights, no cross-dressing, no silly stuff. At least not on my part, can’t speak for the others. You can’t believe everything you read on other blogs, and on some you can’t believe anything. On mine however, yes, you can believe everything and anything. It’s like, peer reviewed, except for, I don’t have any peers smart enough to review it so I review it myself. That’s okay though because I’m my own peer. I’m not sure if I live up to myself though. Wait, yeah, I think I prolly do. Yes.

Shool: Week #5

2009-02-26T17:40:00.000-08:00

Hm, it's kind of amusing. Sometimes you can here a lot of yelling here at TVC coming from one of the huge workout rooms. I think it's the police academy, which Josh is in right now if I'm not mistaken. I like big rooms. I like snow too. Man the snow's been great this year, like right now, and warm too. I say let spring take it's own time, I'm enjoying our winter.
Anyway, we seem to be surviving okay at the house. Don't really miss anyone too much yet. lol
I only say that cause they're prolly reading this. I'm actually pretty glad to be at home in peace,(well, as peaceful as it gets with Jordan and Aaron around, argh), I'd rather be here right now than on some hectic vacation running around in the states. Mostly because I'm in school, and it would have been miserable if I'd have gone, but still. I think I'm gonna wait patiently for a well planed fun vacation. Like us kids going down to the east coast again. Or going with Mom to visit her family and see all the crazy places in CA. I think that would be fun.
Anyway, school seems to be going okay, if anyone cares. I really don't blame you if you don't. I like going and visiting the writing center. There's a really nice lady that's pretty helpful and understands pretty much all that I'm trying to get across. This academic writing business is interesting, kinda fun. I think a lot of it is stupid, but I won't talk about that now. It's a lot of work but I enjoy it a lot more than the boooooring accounting work, and it's a whole lot more rewarding.
Anyway, I'll talk later.

Oh, cool. I found a way to follow my own blog.

Interesting

2009-02-25T23:39:00.000-08:00

I thought this article was interesting when I saw it earlier on FoxNews. I've been thinking about "Freedom of Hate Speech" for my writing assignment which would cover double standards, so called "hate speech", and just about suppression and freedom of speech and stuff. I dunno, I haven't really decided, but it seemed like quite a coincidence to stumble upon this.

Anyway, read the whole article if you read it. It's ridiculous, I hope they sale well just out of spite. Some of the lyrics actually don't bother me, of course it's no good, but neither is the wretched black rap with the nasty lyrics. Anyway, there's way too much of a double standard here. I say let the hate speech fly.

School: Week #4

2009-02-22T00:35:00.000-08:00

Oh, hey.
I really don't have much time to write anything before I go to bed. Everything's been going so-so. It looks like schools going to get a lot more challenging pretty soon. Work's going well. Yada yada...
I missed David Peterson, which is a real bummer. He was up in Fairbanks for almost two weeks, but non of the events he did really worked with my schedule.
I'm liking my quickbooks class this year. It's kinda fun just clicking around on a pc for a few hours rather than sitting through boring lectures. It has the best teacher for this year. She reminds me of Sarah Palin because her accent is exactly the same and she talks about her son in hockey and stuff. But anyway, she's really helpfull and the class is really small and nice. Prolly the best class for me this year.

[Edit] Oops, I thought i already posted this one. Anyway, here it is.

The Lost Detective

2009-02-19T02:00:00.000-08:00

Cheap

It was a cheap deal, but it worked for me, which is strange because I’ve never been the thrifty sort. That’s not to say I was deep in the moolah then; my bank account had always accommodated what would seem modest numbers to evan a needy individual. That was probably due to the fact that I believed one’s possessions and attire should not reflect one’s bank account but rather one’s person. In other words, I wasn’t a big saver. But getting back to where we were, it was a cheap deal. I had found an office that would fit my new enterprise located upstairs, above a local nightclub. I had mixed feelings. On one hand, it wasn’t the greatest place for a business location, but at the same time, it seemed to fit in with the shady profession of a private investigator, and as I said, it was a cheap deal.

On that late July afternoon, I found my self running past the doors of the Playback Club and up the side fleet of carpeted stairs. I could hear the club pianist doing some cute jazz number, but it faded. Steps flew beneath me, three at a time as I reached for the railing and pulled my way up. Two floors, three, and then the fourth. There was an elevator but it was far too slow. I walked down the hallway past closed office doors, most of which were empty inside. Funny little diamond shapes were patterned on the carpet beneath me, and just ahead of me, I spotted the familiar figure of Sid standing, paint brush in hand. I stopped next to him and observed the same door he was eyeing.
“So,” he said, “how does that look?”
The right side of my mouth winced a bit. “Ah, it needs to be bigger.”
“Bigger huh? You really think so.”
“Oh yeah.”
He sighed. “Ok, your the boss, boss.” The door window had the words Detective Joseph B. Low, PI printed perfectly.
“Hey, I just dropped by to grab something from the office, but I’m gonna be gone for a while. Here, take a stack of these.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out some cards. “See? Business cards; I’m way ahead of you. Give ‘em to everyone you see and leave them around and stuff.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, of course you do; they have the hours I'm here and everything. Ok, I’m heading out; if anyone shows up, don’t let them leave. I don’t care if they lost their dog’s chew toy; just keep them here. Ok, see you.”
I took off, leaving Sid with half a stack of cards and an eyebrow raised.

Marlowe's Thrifty Clothing always had a strange smell about it. On one hand, the smell of used clothes, or just clothes that hadn’t sold else wear isn’t the most pleasant smell in the world, but at the same time it brought a sense of adventure, risk. I can’t quite explain it. I’ve already established that I’m not the thrifty type, but that’s not why I shopped in a place like this. There’s something about a thrift clothing store. When you took the time to poke around through the nick knacks and sometimes odd garments, it all seemed to permeate with character. Now the “character” didn’t always happen to match me or be at all enjoyable, but if I looked hard enough, I could always find something that worked, and for some reason a new crisp piece of clothing from a major retail store could never beat a tagless find, full of character at your local Marlowe's Thrifty Clothing.
I entered through the doors of the shop whistling a tune, the same one from the pianist jock at the club actually. The strangest tunes always had a way of finding themselves a snug crevice in my brain. The excitement of my new enterprise had seemed to up my usually low spirits. I’d always felt better under pressure and at risk; if I had nothing going on, I would just get bored with my life.
“Hiya Joe” I noticed what I guessed to be the owner wave at me from the registers.
“Oh, yeah.” I replied, slightly startled. “Hi, how’s it going?” How he remembered my name I couldn’t figure out. I suppose I did shop there frequently, but I hadn’t a clue what his name was, and I certainly wouldn’t call us acquaintances. Finding my way through the racks and isles, mixtures of treasure and junk, I paused, and turned towards a certain row.
“Ah, jackets.” From a distance, it looked like a coat rack from a vagrant party, but I knew better than first impressions. Leather, canvas, wool, I thumbed through. Much of it was broke in but not sullied. What was I looking for? Well, I had a bit of cash left over from my business loan, and and I couldn’t think of a better use of it than on a P.I. get up. I wasn’t sure of what I exactly wanted, but that’s usually the way it is when one does this sort of thing. You can’t have it all spelled out and your mind set on one thing; you only have to realize that you’ll know what you want when your hands pull it from its hiding place and your eyes focus in on it. I wasn’t looking for a cliché detective long coat, at least not immediately, but I wanted something that would stand out, something to be recognized by.
“Uh, no... no. Hmm, what’s this?” A strange looking, long grey cotton sports jacket. “Eh, no.” I stuffed it back into the mess of coats. “No, no, defiantly not, no, hmm, and this?” I lifted a hanger from it’s support, and on it laid a pleasant looking bomber jacket with large buttons down the middle. It was leathery and brown, made of sheepskin. The fit was comfortable and the inside soft and woolly. It was defiantly broken in and could even be considered shabby, like something worn by a poor college student, but it seemed to have a romantic quality about it, if a coat is allowed to have such a thing. I rested the naked hanger back on its rack and swung the jacket over my shoulder. As I made my way to the register, a pair of beige leather gloves caught my eye. After checking the size, I added them to my spoils.
“Will this be all for ya?” asked the shop owner.
“Yeah... Wait, I mean, would you happen to have any of those hats with the, you know, brims?” He stood there, with sort of a blank expression. I rolled my eyes a bit annoyed. “Like, gangster?” I added.
“Oh, you mean the fedoras.”

Emerging from the warm dark July night and passing by the doors of the Playback club, I found myself again running up the carpeted stares, through the hallway, and back into Sid.
“Hey there, I’m making it bigger.” He said, nodding toward the fresh paint.
“I see.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Oh, this? I just picked it up at that clothes shop down the street. You know, the guy you runs that place is a bit strange.”
“How so?”
“Oh, I dunno. He knows too much, like my name, and the names of weird hats and stuff.”
“I think that’s his job.”
Yeah, well anyway, why? Does this look bad?”
“Ah, not really. It’s just, very different. Oh hey, you have your first client.”
“Really?” I asked; my heart beat sped up a bit.
“Yeah, I sent her into your office. She should still be in there waiting.” I could tell there was something up. His eyes were sort of avoiding mine and he opened the door, trying to hurry me in.
“What is her dilemma?”
“I think you should ask her yourself actually?”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Yeah, you should.”
“I should?”
“Yeah,” his eyebrows rose. “you should.”
“Ok, whatever.” I shrugged it off and started towards the office.
“Oh, and Joseph...”
“Yeah?”
“Be easy on her okay? She seemed kinda fragile to me.”
I ignored him, the only way I could make sense of it would be to find out what was up myself.
“Nice hat by the way.” He called out with a chuckle.
I walked past the waiting/reception room and opened the office door formulating my grand entrance.
My office was empty for the most part. A small wooden desk sat in the middle of the room with hard chairs near it. One in front, which held the girl, and one behind, which I hung my new jacket on. My new hat was tossed onto the table. It almost looked like more of an interrogation room then a Private Investigator’s office. She stared at me. I wasn’t sure about how it made me feel; her eyes were big, yet timid. She was barely a woman, probably just out of high school, but I decided I was going to treat her like an adult. After all, as difficult as it might have been, I had to treat my customers with respect if I wanted to keep their business.
“Why hello there.” She spoke. Her voice was a tad high pitch for me.
“Hi. Detective Joseph B. Low, I’ll let you call me Joseph though.”
“I know, I saw your name on the door outside, before that cute man erased it. That’s nice of you though. My name’s Jean, Jean Ruth”
“Yeah, I’d say it is.” I said, pacing a bit. “Anyhow, what brings a dame like yourself to a P.I. office at this hour of the night.”
“Oh,” she said, looking down. “well, it’s kind of a private issue.”
“You’ve come to the right place then, that’s what Private Investigators are for.”
She toyed with the little brown purse in her lap nervously.
“Well I don’t want this to get out, cause I don’t know if it’s true and I wouldn’t want to spread rumors.”
“Naturally.” I said, creasing my eyebrows. I was growing impatient. She paused, her wide eyes glancing left and right. Then she came out with it.
“I think, I’m not sure, but I think... I think my guy might be going out with someone else.” I stared at her, running the words through my head. I was a bit stunned, confused. Could she be fooling me? Throwing me for a loop just for cracks?
“I just need to know, I need to know if he’s cheating on me because I can’t live like this. He told me he loved me.” Her right eye began to tear up. I sighed deeply, trying to control the rage building up in me.
“Ok, listen. Ms. Ruth?”
“Yes.”
“I need to know if you stumbled into the wrong place by accident, or if this is some sort of bad joke.”
“What do you mean? This isn’t a joke. It isn’t even funny.”
“No, your exactly right, it’s not funny. I am a private investigator, not teen relationship counselor.”
So she sat there. A blank, thoughtless expression was plastered on her face. Seconds began to tick by.
“I know that.” She finally said, quietly.
“Then get out of my office.”
“But Mr. Low, you don’t have to worry about money. I’ll pay you what you want.” Her voice was shaky, her eyes were tearing up again.
“I want you to get out of my office, before I loose my temper and throw you out.” She stood from her chair without saying a word and flew out of the office sobbing. An “Ouch!” sounded from the hallway, followed by a loud crashing noise. I rushed out to see what had happened, but I was fairly sure I already knew.

School: Week #3

2009-02-12T18:08:00.000-08:00

Hey, I Thought I'd just jump on to say high again. My school's been kinda so-so lately. I really haven't been loaded on with much to do. This weekend might be a bit of a challenge because I have a review coming up and some annoying paper. But school's been pretty much in the lower places in my list of priorities. There's a lot of other stuff going on like some wedding everyone's been preparing for and just stuff. I've also been reading and enjoying myself a lot. Trying to get the most out of my free time before school gets too busy. I think this year has gotten off to a good start, although by no means has it been perfect.

My writing class has been ok but slightly annoying. My first assignment wasn't too bad, kinda fun actually. The classes themselves would be very annoying if it wasn't for the two people sitting next to me. This mid-aged lady and younger girl who know each other always end up sitting on either side of me and talk rather loudly to each other about their lives and stuff. They also say sarcastic remarks about other students in class that are less then intelligent and sometimes make cracks about the teacher. The teacher's not really worth talking about, but anyway, I feel like I should ask them if they want to sit by each other sometimes, but I can't bring myself to do it. They're just too entertaining, and they don't seem to mind me there anyways. Speaking of which, i should head off to that class now. Hope you guys all have a good day.

Friday Movie Night

2009-02-06T16:15:00.001-08:00

Poor kid.

The Lost Detective

2009-02-05T02:00:00.000-08:00

The Solitary Office

The room looked the same as it had always been. His old desk sat there in the middle, everything on it neatly arranged. Papers in their piles, a mug half full of cold black tea, even his pipe still lay in its tray behind the computer monitor, bits of ash scattered around it. The shelf full of books, the violin case left under the desk. Though there was also something different; despite it being full of his earthly possessions, it brought a feeling of emptiness heavy upon me. I didn’t feeling like flipping the light switch on for some reason. A small breeze from the open window floated through the curtain. Strange, came a fleeting thought. Dabir’s window was rarely opened as far as my memory could tell. Maybe in his condition he was groping for fresh air. I didn’t give it a second thought. It wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on.
My feet shifted across the oriental rug as they had years before. Evocative memories set in, bringing a sense of nostalgia and bitterness at the same time. It’s strange how someone’s death makes you take a second look at your own life. Well, I suppose on second thought it’s not all that strange, it’s to be expected. If you think about it, the real quandary is that it takes something as grave as death to come along before we begin to think about where we are, what we’re doing. These are the things teachers like Mr. Dabir would set forth to students. You knew that more important to them than making a paycheck was giving fledgling lives a chance. A opportunity to not be wasted, to rise above the level of the average Rue Morgue City dreck wondering through the streets at night.
Sadly, I must say that not every teacher in the world is of the same distinction. But it made me wonder, with such a fine mentor, someone so invested in my success, how far had I come? What was my life worth? What merit was I? I wouldn’t say it dawned on me there because I really think I’d known it all along. The answer to all the questions I had burdened myself with was: nothing. My life equalled nothing, and it seemed to hit me then, the way a large bill does when you’re broke, and there, in that solitary office, the full impact of that fact came to me.
The light came on.

“Oh, here you are.” The voice awoke me from my bleak contemplation. “Actually, I thought as much. Miss Irene said something about it.”
“Yeah, Sid.” I replied, rising. I had just realized I was sort of half kneeling near the floor.
“Yeah, I was just about to head off. Thought I’d just let you know.”
“Yeah, I was about to do the same. Let me grab my coat; I’ll head out with you.”
“Um, okay?” Typical Sidney reply, completely non-comital, a bit cold. That’s just how he was, it didn’t bothered me.
We started strolling through the hallways of the school. His hands were in their pockets, suit coat hanging from the space between his arm; I swung mine over my shoulder. His pace was quicker which left me behind a few steps.
“Sure brings back the memories, doesn’t it?” I asked.
“Oh, you aren’t joking.” He replied, still sauntering through the halls. We turned and headed through a few doorways.
“So about that uh, Audrey, was that her name?”
“Yep.”
“Huh, Audrey Rose, that’s kind of a silly last name.”
“Hm, I don’t think so. I think it’s rather pretty.”
“So what kind of a person is she?”
“Oh.” He sighed out and then turned around to face me, walking backward at the same time, though slower than before. “She’s a good girl Joseph, not in that way. She’s just someone that’s always good to have around. Someone, you know, you can trust. So yeah, she’s okay. Actually she’s really smart too. She’s going for all these degrees in financing, insurance, law. I dunno, all this other junk too; she talks about commercial credit and investigative reporting. She’s crazy man; she’s planning on talking over her dad’s business or something like that. I think he’s got a pretty successful set up.”
“And you? What have you been up to? How’s life?”
“Well, I’m starting up the new school year, of course. A bit low on money which really is a bummer. I had a pretty good gig going at the uh, clinic, but turns out they don’t really need a part timer.”
“Ah, well I happen to have an opening for a part time secretary.”
He stopped and his head tilted to the side in a playful way. “Is there something I’ve missed?”
“No, I’ve just decided to go into business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Oh a Private Investigator”
He through his head back in laughter and began walking again.
“No no no, I’m not joking.”
“That makes it evan funnier.” He replied, although he had stopped laughing all together. We approached the outer doors and made our way through them. The sun had barely set , and a warm breeze drifted by as we made our way across. The mostly empty parking lot.
“Man, the nights sure feel good after one of these days.” I said, wiping some sweat of my forehead with my suit sleeve. “July’s always the pits.” Finally our jaunt reached its conclusion, and we came to our vehicles. His hand reached for his car door, and although I wasn’t sure why, my mind raced desperately for some reason to stop his hand from making contact.
“Hey Sid, maybe we can get together some time and catch up.” Contact was made, and he opened the door.
“I thought that’s what we were doing now.” He replied, almost stepping in.
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s just that...” I looked at him searching for words. Despite the cold bluntness he had carried for as long as I’d known him, there was a strange sense of warming in seeing his face again, a welcoming impression. It felt like home, and meeting up with him after all this time was a bit like putting on an old comfy sweater you’d forgotten about. My eyes fell to the pavement below, and I tried to think of words that could let him understand or whether I should just end the conversation there.
“Well, like Mr. Dabir, It’s strange how you can move on with life and forget about someone for a few years, and then... when you find out how much someone really meant it’s already to late. I just...” I couldn’t help myself. Tears began forming in my eyes, and I started to regret even starting the sentence. My voice quivered, I held the tears back from falling.
“I just don’t want to see that happen again.”
He shut the door, and stood there for a few moments. His arms crossed as he eventually leaned back on his car looking down to the same pavement my eyes had glared upon.
“Don’t worry Joe; I understand. If you ever wanna talk, just call me up, alright? This thing with Dabir did come rather suddenly didn’t it? I think everyone was shocked.”
“Yeah, I mean, he was old, but he’s never had any problems like this before. Anyone you asked would say he was healthy. Just shows, nothing’s certain.”
My eye’s had dried, and my voice was steady again. We stood there for a while, leaning against our cars, the sky darkening more every minute.
“Listen, I was serious about the P.I. gig alright? It’s what I’m gonna do. I mean, after all, with all the schooling I went through I know how to do the job. I’ve decided to have a real life, do something that means something. If you don’t want work that’s fine, but I need a secretary. I can pay you whatever your last job payed.”
“Joe, it’s not that. I feel like it would be taking advantage of you. Starting a business is never easy, going it alone doesn’t always work. Where’re you gonna get money to start all this? How’re you gonna pay me?” The way he talked, you would have though he was four years my senior and not the other way around. I knew he wouldn’t be willing to pass up some money though.
“I’ll get a loan, if it doesn’t work out you won’t have to worry about it; I’ll be liable. Come on Sid, just do it as a favor. See what happens.”
“Ok Joseph, i’ll tell you what. You get this all set up, then give me a call and we’ll see how it works. I’ll see you ‘round”
“Yeah.” I replied, as he climbed into his car. The two of our vehicles pulled out and across the lot. The night had come.

Two men entered an office, by no means the solitary one visited by the former student moments before, although similar in some ways.
“Listen to me,” Groaned the lanky blond as he took a seat behind the desk. “I’ve told you before. You must tell me when you want to talk; we can’t do this any time you feel like coming by. I don’t want to be seen with you.”
“Hm, yes of course you don’t.” Said the other man, his words slinking out of his smirking mouth and eye’s shifting slightly. They both spoke English well, but their Austrian accents were still strong.
“I was in the middle of something anyway so hurry up. What did you want?”
“Ah, well I think you should know by now what it is I want.” The shifty eyed man walked to a nearby mirror, straitening his graying hair. “I have found myself very low on... Well, you know, product. Whereas you have abundant access to it. Am I not paying you enough? Is the percentage too small?”
The man in the chair sighed deeply. “It’s not like I can just take one while no one’s looking and hand it to you. This is dangerous work; if it is to be done carefully, it must be planned. I have to wait for opportunities to come. I can’t tell you when I’ll have something, you just have to wait.”
“Oh, so maybe money isn’t the problem. I must not be pressuring you enough.” With this he leaned in, eyeing the other closely.
“Oh you have pressured me quite enough, and I hope you don’t expect for this to be go on for much longer because I’m not living like this forever. Isn’t twenty-five years enough? You don’t know what I’ve had to do to hide this, how close all of this has come to being over.”
The gray haired man stepped back a few feet, smoothing his mustache, and then leaned forward placing an arm on his partners shoulder. “Soon my friend, soon it will be over, but we are not finished here yet.”

Anger and Argueing

2009-02-04T13:03:00.000-08:00

So in about 25 minutes I'm gonna head out through the -30ish weather and walk to work, so I figured I'd use the time to post real quick. I think a 4 hour work day will be kinda nice, a refreshing breath away from school and sitting around drinking coffee and listening to idiotic ideas like the ones they had flying around this morning. I've been learning more about "how you should view yourself".
Ok, I've learned that you are what you believe you are. For instance: If you think you are a nice person, then you will start acting like a nice person. If you believe you are good at math, you will become good at math. If you think you're the smartest person in the world, you will become the smartest person in the world. If you believe you have a steamy body, you will develope one.
Hm, somthing about this logic seems to confuse me. Oh, I see. If they believe what they're saying is true, then it will become true. A two year old could see how stupid this is. If I think i'm a smart person, than i won't feel the need to study anything.
Some more interesting "facts": Studies have shown that most car recks occor with people who think poorly of themselves. You will do as well as you think you will do. The lower you think of yourself, the lower you will achieve.
Are you tired of this yet. Try 3 straight hours of it. How dumb. Anyone who believes this needs to be wacked upside the head. Here's truth for you.
We are all worthless and useless and can achieve nothing of value in and of ourselves. Everything we try to do in our strength will fail. We are not only bad at what we attempt, but most of what we atempt is bad of itself. We have no self value, and if we go through life holding to our self value, it would have been better to never go through life at all. If we think there is anything good about us in any way we are decieveing ourselves.
How many people in the world are being brainwashed by this junk? It's all fluff and lies, and man is it selfish. That's why everyone takes it in so willingly. It's just hard to believe that so many people can be such idiots. They just need reality, but they don't want it.
Ok, I titled mine something I thought I would write about but got sidetracked, so i'll just get back to those subjects later.
Oh my. Tomorow's a TLD day; I should put that up. Is anyone still reading it?
Ok, i'll try to post more. I've descovered the blogworld gets pretty boring all around when you don't post for a few days.

School: Week #2

2009-02-02T13:06:00.000-08:00

Oh, hi.
I kinda slacked yesterday and forgot about my weekly post thingy. It's not a biggy though. I'm not really concerned with keeping up with post promises anymore because I pretty much stuck with my three posts a week rule, so someone pointed out to me that I've earned my right to post whenever I want to, or not at all for a week or so. The rest of you though, you have not. lol So your not allowed to get away without posting for a week or however long. Well, maybe a few of you have earned it, but I'm only joking anyway.

Anyways, I'm sure you're prolly not to interested with how school's going or whatever in my life, but I'm just trying to put a post out once a week to let people know what i'm up to.

My weekly work schedule is kinda annoying. I'm running from school to work for half days on Mon and Wed and then a full day on Sat starting Wednesday. I think I'll really like the half days but I'll hate running through the cold.

One class i'm taking this semester is human relations. I'm convinced it is the stupidest class I will ever take in my life. I've always hated the fluffy life advice that gos on in seminars and whatever. Like that famous last lecture guy; his "last lecture" was so... empty. I felt so sorry for him. I was just sitting there watching it and was thinking: "Your going to die, soon. And this is all you have? Dream big? Have fun? Get things done? Whatever else he said that wasn't relevant enough to stick in my mind. He thought he was the model of how to live a fulfilled life, when in reality, chances are, it would have been better if he had never even lived. This class is kinda like that, and when you sit through these kind of things, (like I am right now for 6 hours a week for this class) you start to see how everything is so selfish. They talk about doing good in this class a lot, but the only REAL incentive behind their version of "doing good" is so that you'll feel better about yourself, or that it will come back to you and people will be good to you. Then they show all these late 80s videos and give pieces of trite, weightless, imbecilic advice. Every once in a while they say something useful, but for the most part it's just worthless, and I can't believe i'm paying like $250 to "learn" this stuff. Oh, and the teacher... His personality totally clashes with mine. Except for, I'm not really a clasher. You see, instead of saying anything out rite, I just make sarcastic or annoyed face expressions behind the persons back. Maybe that's wrong. He's just fake though, everything about him and his class makes me think fake and cheesy and stupid inspirational posters and all that. I just can't take it sometimes, some people need a taste of reality.

Anyway, it's going okay. I guess the guy who writes Mouse Guard is gonna be up hear in Fairbanks giving a few presentations about literature and stuff so that's cool. Maybe if I have a chance to go it would be fun. I can't wait for the new Winter series to be finished.

While were on that subject, I guess the Tintin movie is of to a good start now. They've got a lot of money going into it and a lot of big names. It's gonna be huge and i'm glad they're taking it seriously, hopefully the jem that is Tintin will Finlay be realized by the mainstream world.

Ok, I could say more, but I should get to work on my writing assignment. My life's just tough like that. Sitting in coffee shops all day reading books and writing, i'll make it though. Don't worry about me.

Friday Movie Night

2009-01-31T02:00:00.000-08:00

Rob Bell, Todd Friel, and the Bullwhip Guy

School: Week #1

2009-01-26T01:12:00.000-08:00

I don't think i'll have much time to post this year since my school schedual has been changed up a little and it looks like it's going to be pretty hectic this semester between school and work. I've decided to do kind of an update post every Sunday to let you know how my school year's going and what's going on in my life. I know i could really care less about any one elses school life, but this is my blog so that's what i'm gonna post about.

People have been sayingmy blog's been messing up. It works fine on safari and firefox on my MacBook, let me know if it's still not working.

So, i'm putting out some news on TLD just to prove i'm in it for the long run. I've planned out the rest of it pretty closely and made up working title for the rest of the parts. These are all subject to change of course, but if avery thing goes acording to plan i'll be done with this story in August or September. So here's your little teaser, the working titles.

Funeral Scene
Funeral Reception
The Solitary Office
Cheap
Licensed
First Client
Confrontation
Investigation
Detection
Lost
The Shadowed Interrogator
Bugged
The Second Interrogation
Evidence
The Gathering
The Fall
Confession
Wrap Up

It's late so I'll do a better update nest week. Thanks.

The Lost Detective

2009-01-22T02:00:00.000-08:00

Funeral Reception

So I stood there, later on, near one of the fancy tables done up with the cloths and “refreshments” as they like to call them and everything else people tend to put out for catering. The school was never too shabby when putting on parties or special events. Though, this event was not the usual; it was of an all more entirely solemn nature. But I stood there, observing what went on around me which is something I’ve always enjoyed doing. I’ve never been the mingling type, and at that moment, I didn’t really feel like playing the socialite.
I noticed Sid for a start across the room, my friend er, acquaintance. Well, I suppose I’ll come off it. If you’re wanting to hear this full story, you’ll have to know how I feel and what goes on in my mind. He’s probably the closest thing I had to a friend then, though I’d never admit it. I’d taught myself that life's easier to get through without worrying about friends or people. No one’s reliable, and friends provide too little results to outweigh the amount of maintenance needed to keep them in place.
But Sid was always different. He expected nothing, he was just someone who was always there. If you needed him, he was useful enough. If not, he wouldn’t get in your way. The cream on the breve was that he had a perfectly cynical sense of humor, but I’d noticed over the years he very seldom shared it. Every once in a while he’d let out a crack when he couldn’t contain himself, but for the most part, he would keep it to himself only stifling a dry chuckle here and there at his own personal joke.
I should know him better than most, I’d known him for years before. Actually, now that I think of it, I guess I’ve always known him. I grew up with him in the Priory school; he was an orphan. I can’t recall a time where his existence was not aware to me. He’s always been younger, of course, and smaller than me, but I tended to think of him as an equal even though it wasn’t the smartest thing to do so in some grades. Having a younger friend with a large age gap in between doesn’t really earn you many popularity points when you’re a Freshmen.
So I suppose you’ve guessed by now that I too was, or am, an orphan. I know a little of my parents, yet remember nothing. My mother was Scottish I'm told, my father all-American. They died months after having me in some sort of accident; not much else is known about them. I have a few pictures and some documents with names and stuff, but I don’t like to think about it. I’ve thought about it far enough in my life, and there’s no reason to depress you any more than you already would be reading a story like this.
Oh, I guess I haven’t told you. I hope you’re not expecting some clever little P.I. story where the perfect, smart little detective takes out his magnifying glass and finds his little clues and discovers the answer to his great mystery thus bringing a sigh of relief to all those involved. No, not at all. This story is of an all more dark nature, and through my life, the great mystery that plagued my soul is not something that can be dismissed by clues and clever speculation.
One would probably be correct in saying that the absence of parents has taken it’s toll on my psychological development, although in my earlier years, I most likely would have argued it to my grave. Haze is a lot clearer to identify when you’re observing it from a distance rather then all caught up in the middle of it.
Anyhow, returning back to where we were, I noticed Sid across the room. He was talking with some female. Pointing out to different areas in the room. It seemed as though he was explaining something to her, or pointing out people he new and most likely spilling the dirt on them. He never had much tact, Sid. He’d gotten in hot water many a time for insulting people rather loudly behind there back, but usually he was right on the money.
The lady was rather young, her brunette hair pinned up in a simple fashion. She wore thin red sweater and a long black skirt. What kind of person would wear red to a funeral? The pair was looking at me; I pretended not to notice. He seemed to be speaking in quite an animated way, though I couldn’t tell what about. Perhaps he was filling her in on my academic failures in college. How I went to be the big police detective, studying Forensic Science, Law, Criminal Justice among countless other things only to waste years of my life on wretched grades and teachers in whose eyes i’d lost all trust. It’s not that i didn’t learn; i learned mountains of knowledge regarding what it takes to do the job, but i just never fared well when it came to grades, tests, and everything else that comes with the academic world. I barely made it through Rue Morgue Priory High as it is.
I won’t deny that I can be lazy, but this was easily the biggest frustration of my life because there were many times when I took it on all four cylinders yet failed again against the expectations laid on me. When the police academy saw the bad GPA and the failure to pass necessary exams, I could see I wasn’t going to go very far. So I just kept my day job, which paid me more then I would be getting as an average officer anyway.
I noticed Sid signal me over with a finger. Me? I mouthed out as I pointed to myself. He shook his head yes. I shook my head no. He pointed his finger to the floor in a manner that seemed to say Here now! So I went.
I noticed my head was tilted slightly to the side again. It had always been an annoying habit of mine. People would always try to correct me on it and tell me it made me look lazy; as much as I try, it’s really no use; I catch myself doing it all the time. It’s completely unintentional. As I approached closer to the two, I was able to see the girl’s face more closely. It was nothing you’d expect to see on a poster or fashion magazine, but still, it had a pleasant quality to it I suppose.
“Hello there.” I started out the conversation.
“Yeah, hi Joe.” Sid blurted out quickly. “Hey Audrey, this is the Joe I was talking about.”
She was looking at me; her eyebrows raised.
“Oh, hello. Sidney’s told me about you.” Her hand went up to tuck a non-existent lock of hair behind her ears. Not so much in a flirtatious way; it was more like she didn’t have anything else to do with the hand. I think they do that when they’re nervous, but if she was, she was doing a good job of hiding it. I wouldn’t blame her though, meeting new people makes me nervous too.
“Only the good things I hope.” We shook hands, of which hers was strangely cold. After the short shake, I withdrew mine as soon as I could. I had no use for girls; they’re worse then friends. She had those sticks they put in their hair to keep it up. Sid started off on his rambling, which he tended to do quite often.
“We used to call him Jobie back in school because he always mentioned the B in his name. Get it? Joe B? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I think he knew Mr. Dabir pretty well back in Rue Morgue Priory High; didn’t you Joe? My uh, condolences on the loss; it’s unfortunate.”
“Very.” I replied.
“Yes, I'm sorry about that.” She said. “Were you close?”
“Uh,” I shook my head. “Close enough.”
“Hm” She replied. The whole conversation had grown a bit awkward, probably my fault. Everything’s usually my fault.
“Anyway,” Sid started off again, trying to rescue what was left of it. “yeah, I'm surprised you two hadn’t met each other by now. Audrey joined Rue Morgue Priory a bit after you left Joe, and she graduated three years back, the same time I did.”
“Oh really?” I asked.
“Oh yes, my parents trusted the priory school more than the other ones around here. You know how it is.”
“Yes, of course.” Rue Morgue Priory had always had a better reputation when it came to kids getting into trouble, bullying, scandals and everything up that alley.
“Well,” said Sid, raising his glass of punch. “Here’s to Mr. Dabir, a good teacher. May we never forget what we’ve learned from him.”
Thoughts in my head, memories of his office, they hit me then. He really was a great man. He taught me more in mere conversation than i could have ever learned in a class room.

“Keep in touch. Alright? I promise you, after I retire, we’ll open a P. I. office. We’ll be partners.”

The twinkle in his eye when he determined to hold me to the pact of which I'm sure he would have. The life of a Private Investigator is a hard one. The money doesn’t come easy, nor do the cases or for that matter the answers to them all the time. He had money though; he was not a poor man. I might have actually taken him up on his promise, but after this... It was a tragedy.
“Why hello Joseph, Sidney, Ms. Rose.” I turned, after finishing my drink, to see Miss Irene, a member of the faculty association at Rue Morgue Priory. She was an elderly lady, and we always called Miss Irene behind her back, but she preferred us use her last name.
“Oh, Miss Alder, I haven’t seen you for a while. What have you been up to?”
“Nothing new, just the usual same as always. Things never change around here.” It felt good, the comforting arm of an old friend placed on my shoulder. I knew where it came from, what it meant. “Listen Joseph, I’m sorry about August. I know what he meant to you, and I think you know what he meant to all of us here, though you were closer in a way. He’ll be missed, it’s good seeing you again.”
“Thanks.” and then, “Wait,” I exclaimed as she turned to leave.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering what was to happen with his office, things like the old wooden study desk, and his library. Is it all still in place?”
“Were planning to auction it all off with everything else at the next fund raising event, but that’s not for months. It’s all still in place, we really don’t have any need for the room right now and none of us could bring ourselves to go through his things and empty it just yet.”
“I understand. Hey, I was wandering if you wouldn’t mind me visiting it once more. You know what I mean.”
“Oh, of course Joseph. I think it should actually be unlocked right now; help yourself.”
I did.

Monday Review

2009-01-19T23:04:00.000-08:00

Is it just me, or is it everybody else? I Don't try to be weird, but i don't see being weird as a bad thing either. I don't try to not be weird because i think the average person has horrid tastes, characteristics, ect. so if i'm in some way different from the average person then that has to be a plus. Now that's not to say i don't have horrid characteristics, but as far as taste, in my book i have better taste than anyone on the planet. That's why i usually don't give it a second thought when someone doesn't like something i like. You see, i like what i like so much, that i see it as the greatest thing ever, so if someone else disagrees, i can't help but think they're confused or just a poor product of their environment. When i hear or see something, i don't sit there and think to myself: "I wander if i'm supposed to like this. Should i? Shouldn't i? Oh what should i do?"
No, i think more of a: "Does that sound good to me? Is it something i want to like? Something i could developer an acquired taste for? Something that sparks my interest?

I usually have strong feelings for things. I either love them or am disgusted with them. Every once in a while i'll find myself somewhere in between but not too often. Then there are those times where i'll see something, or hear something that blows me away. I just can't really handle it. Those are the times i find my favorites, which you can find by looking at my profile page which contains mostly just that. I've come to realise that most people don't have my taste in everything, but at the same time, i really don't care because i like my taste so much i'm willing to live with it. That said, there can be times when your taste is wrong. I'd like to think it's whenever it conflicts with my taste but that's just wishful thinking to be honest. It's really whenever your taste is for something carnal or fleshly, and of course it's always good to keep an eye open for that.

Anyways, time for a Monday Review, and so i'm giving out a warning that you might not share my love or hate for whatever i review, but this blog is really more for me than you anyways.

Yael Naim-New Soul

She's Hebrew i guess and sings in Hebrew mostly but English too. Most people think it sounds weird, but truthfully i can't get over how much i like the sound. It's the kind of album you(or i) just want to turn up, put in both earphones, and lay down to hear and concentrate on every sound. It really is lush and deep music, i pretty much like the sound of every tune she sings, none of them get boring. It's kinda like something you'd expect to hear in a coffee shop. I would go as far as to say she's as good as Mr. Lavie. Very different though. He has more of a black, white, grey and blue whisperish mysterious style. Hers is more colorful and quirky, yet it can be touching at the same time. She had all these songs with weird Hebrew names and i thought i'd never remember what was what but now after hearing the first few notes i know exactly which one it is. I guess she was the first Israeli soloist to have a top ten hit in the United States. I'll do a rundown of the songs on the album.

1. Paris: ****
Well, what can i say? This song makes you feel like you're walking down the streets of Paris on decide to stop by a cafe.
2. Too long: ***
This one's a bit strange lyrics wise; it's in English. The tunes alright.
3. New Soul: ***
Well, this is her defining song i guess. It's ok, awesome use of tuba. Gets a bit strange at the end, but it's pretty much just a playful feel good song.
4. Levater: *****
This one's on my MiniPod, i love it. Give it a listen and tell me what you think. You'll all prolly think it's weird.
5. Shelcha: *****
Another one that could be considered strange but i love it.
6. Lonely: *****
This is the best English one; beautiful.
7. Far Far: ****
Also in English, the lyrics are incredible, except for one part maybe, but thankfully i just edit my music when that problem comes up.
8. Yashanti: *****
What can i say? This one's great too.
9. 7 Baboker: ***
So so. I think Baboker means "in the morning" in Hebrew.
10. Lachlom ***
It's ok.
11. Toxic *
No never. The lyrics are wretched.
12. Pachad: *****
Oh, this one has cool piano. At first it sounds like you're in a Eroupean city at a cafe and someone's playing a piano three apartments above you. Then the piano gets a little jazzy, and then she starts singing and it's beautiful.
13. The Endless Song of Happiness ****
And this one's ok to. Sort of like a melancholy circus scene.

Here's a review someone else gave it. It sums it up pretty good, though i'm not really up on all its references. Read it if you like.

To begin with, this album was meant to focus solely on guitar and vocals. But little by little Yael and David Donatien, who encouraged her to sing in Hebrew, padded out the architecture and formed a team. Xavier Tribolet (drums), Laurent David (bass), Voed Nir (cello) and Julien Feltin (electric guitar) joined them as well as S.Husky Huskolds for the mix (Tom Waits, Fiona Apple, Me’Shell Ndegeocello). The instrumentation is pretty minimalist here yet incredibly colourful with the participation of the brass section, the Mellotron, the cello and some programming. Recorded in the young woman’s flat in Paris the 13 songs contain a part of Yael. Happy (Endless Song of Happiness) and a melancholic (Paris, Lonely) existence. Some of them, like Yashanti or Lachlom dive into dreams, others like Baboker bathe in the serenity found at the break of day. Shelcha looks at a love with no future. Yet the ensemble isn’t witness to excessive borrowing or exaggerated marking, but quite the contrary revealing a sincerity and absolute musical clarity. Perhaps it is due to the dominance of Hebrew, a language so rarely sung in this context, that comes across as universal as Cesaria Evora’s Portuguese Creole? Or is it the simply the very freshness exhaled by the personality of this young woman who discovers in New Soul - sung in English with a contagious optimism – that she is "a new soul, in this foreign world, hoping to learn a little"? On Far Far, she herself delivers this other perspective, that of a little girl who chases her dreams but who can only achieve them by accepting the "beautiful mess inside". In short both her own personal history and that of this simply magical record.

And here's an interesting article about her.

2009-01-13T14:24:00.000-08:00

Hey, just stopping in to put up my latest recording in my recent recording experiments up. I worked with it for a while and got it kinda how i wanted. You can't even really notice the mistakes all that much. I was toying around with my computer and made an interesting beginning. Anyways, let me know what you think, i think i messed with it enough to get the recording quality a little better. There's also a link for the download if you're interested.

Download

Friday Movie Night

2009-01-10T00:36:00.000-08:00

Bloood!

4th Picture

2009-01-09T22:28:00.000-08:00

Ok, my picture is real boring because if you've already gone to Sam's blog you've pretty much seen it. I guess i'll do the rule run through.

Rules:

1. Choose the 4th folder where you store pictures on your computer.

2. Select the 4th picture in the folder.

3. Explain the picture.

4. No cheating (cropping, editing, etc.)

I don't use a folder system for my photos. My MacBook has a program called iPhoto and it stores them all. It's basically the picture version of iTunes. You have photo albums which are like playlists. Anyway, this was the forth picture in my forth album which is the one i place all my wallpaper in.

Sam thought it was really cool that his camera captured this while him and Rachel were vacationing up here. It does look pretty cool. It has to do with some setting where it catches light only or something. He could tell you. Anyway, it's a cool picture.

The Lost Detective

2009-01-08T02:00:00.000-08:00

Funeral Scene

The Purloined Letter, A Man Called Spade, The Long Goodbye, Slippery Fingers, A Study in Scarlet, The Harlequin Tea Set, only some of many titles on a shelf, not new editions, but classics, as treasured as they are old. And though in superb condition, if one were to thumb through them, he would find that years of thrills, contemplation, and enjoyment had claimed their pages. Set among many others of the same class all ordered and arranged on exquisite English oak shelves. The smell of pipe smoke in the air, oriental carpet, and an elder Persian man sitting at his desk, brow creased, staring deep into the pages of a vintage novel. His graying hair was closely cut and beginning to recede slightly. An old wooden pipe stuck out of the side of his mouth in a quirky fashion, and his clean shaven face was a pleasant olive color. His hand covered the title of his book as he held it, which would have read The Tenth Clew. He was obviously enraptured in the story contained between the covers of the book, or at least he was until heard the noise of a throat being cleared near the entrance of his office. He jerked with a start and placed the book on his desk as he closed it.

“Oh, Joseph boy.” He sighed out, slightly relieved. The pipe in his mouth was removed and placed in a tray behind his desktop monitor. “So how have you been?” Despite his Persian look, his voice was clearly straight from Cambridge.
“Oh,” said the boy, or rather young man. “I finished it. Here” His hand raised, holding another volume similar to the others. “Looks like I’ve finally done it Mr. Dabir;” His voice had a slightly lazy tone to it, and seemed to trail off and on. “your entire library, that wall full of books, completely absorbed and stored into this mind.” A finger was placed on his temple. The liberty was taken to seat himself on a corner of the ornate office desk, which didn’t look like an office desk as much as a library/study desk.
“Wonderful, but I think you might’ve missed one.” A slightly aged finger tapped firmly onto The Tenth Clew which still remained laying on the desk.
“Hmm, I never seem to be able to keep up with you.” His hand wandered over towards the book to take an intuitive look inside.
“Yes well, I’m sure you’ll get your hands on it when I'm through,” One hand reached for a nice, short, wooden cane, and the other took the novel back. “but I haven’t quite had my chance to finish it yet.” He rose from his chair and paced towards the wall of his office which held his modest library. A sigh escaped from between his lips. “I’ll miss you, you know Joseph.”
The young man stood there, not really knowing what to say. He shrugged slightly, which is what some young men do from time to time when they are unsure of quite what to do.
“That’s the shame about students; they all end up leaving eventually. Well, keep in touch. Alright? I promise you, after i retire, we’ll open a P. I. office. We’ll be partners.”
“Well I’ll,” The young man, or Joseph, I suppose we should call him, his eyes sort of trailed off, wandering for a few moments. “yeah, I’ll hold you to that Mr. Dabir.”
And then, of course, Mr. Dabir’s right eye seemed to twinkle sharply. He had those kind of eyes, you know. Perhaps you’ve seen them on acquaintances of yours. The kind of eyes that always look happy, even when everything else seems sad and wrong. “Oh you had better Joseph, you had better.”

7 years later...

The name’s Low.
Okay, I’ll stop, I really will. I get sick of clichés too. I mean, they can be remarkably satisfying when used right, but they’re usually just a turn off for me. my name’s Joseph B. Low. The B. stands for Balfour by the way. So, I suppose Joseph Balfour Low is my complete full name, but people usually call me whatever they want to without regarding my preference. Nevertheless, I imagine you could say it all began here, in the chapel of the Rue Morgue Priory School for Boys and Girls. Of course, technically, it began the day I was born, though I’m sure you could go back further than that if you wanted the endless detailed version. I’ll spare you that and only give you the interesting parts, though you might not find them all that interesting at first, there are certain parts of this mystery that won’t be clear to you unless you are given the meat of the story in it’s entirety.
The Priory school was one of a kind in Rue Morgue City founded by some very wealthy catholic who’s name escapes me of now. It was set up as a boarding school for orphan boys and girls, not the horrific kind of school found in storybooks where the children are worked ragged and must survive on dry bread crusts and warm water, though some of the dirty restless boys may see it that way. It was a kind school, full of knowledgeable teachers and faculty members all dedicated to providing the best care and most academically astute upbringing available in Rue Morgue City. Though the founder passed away and the school was no longer considered catholic, it still held to the principle of providing a home for the orphans of Rue Morgue City and because of its remarkable reputation many non-orphan children attended themselves.
Why the history lesson? You ask. Well, no matter what you might think, this school plays a large part in this story I’m telling, and even a bigger part in my life considering it was where I was raised. But more on that later; it started in the chapel which wasn’t really good for anything save a few people carrying out useless traditional ceremonies from time to time. But I wasn’t attending a useless ceremony, I was attending a very useful one. A funeral, a funeral of a very dear friend and the man who held the greatest impact on my life. But I’ll stop talking and allow you a listen in on the grand eulogy given by the principle of the school himself. He wasn’t a very interesting chap to say the least. His hair was longer and styled European, he was slim, tall and spoke with a some sort of European accent, though i couldn’t put my finger on it.

Hello everyone. I cannot express the gratitude I have for you visiting this chapel today to remember a beloved soul, a dear friend, and a remarkable mentor. C. August Dabir, an educator who devoted three decades of his life to creating a stimulating learning environment for the students of the Rue Morgue Priory School for boys and girls, died in his office July 7th of this year at the age of 71. The cause was cardiac arrest. Mr. Dabir was an amazing teacher. Many of the students who have been approaching me since his death told me that under his teaching, “you just learned”. You could sit there and absorb what he was speaking. I do believe what he had was a gift. Mr. Dabir kept in touch with many students and instantly remembered those whom he ran into years later. Many have told me he was easily the best teacher they’d ever had. He was able to capture the attention of the whole class. He kept everyone's interest. Mr. Dabir was a member of the faculty association and twice served as president. He was the youngest of the three children born to Frederick Alvah Dabir and Clarissa Margaret Dabir in London, England and earned his bachelor’s degree and teaching credential from the University of London, England. He was a humble man who lived alone all his life and never married, but that’s not to say he was short on friends. Mr. Dabir could find humor and beauty in almost anything. He was an artist and enjoyed traveling and playing profusely on his violin which most students can account for firsthand. This would have been his last year with us before retiring had he lived, but he died doing what he loved, following his passion. He died a teacher. Thank you.

It was strange, I didn’t cry. I’m the sort of person who does cry. I try so very hard not to, though I couldn’t tell you why, but the weeping seems to have a mind of its own with me and usually wins. Perhaps it was the insincerity of the alleged eulogy, or perhaps it was that my emotional drainage had already run its course the day I received the news. That’s not to say the words spoken by our foreign principle weren’t true; most of it was accurate, but it failed to really describe who the man I new as Mr. Dabir was. The short speech was lacking to put it lightly and even misrepresented Mr. Dabir at times.
It was still in the sanctuary; the choir was singing quietly. I loosened my hands which I had just realized were gripping the chapel pew in front of me, and followed the precession up towards the alter. Towards the coffin. How I hated the sound of that word. No flowers, no trinkets. Only a black suit, and an over active mind full of memories. The space in the line in front of me grew unnaturally long as my steps protracted as slowly as possible. But i reached the inevitable casket all too soon. It was open. I saw him. He actually didn’t look as bad as I suspected. His face was paler of course, which was to be expected. Then again, he did look bad. Not ugly or unkept, just lifeless, unnatural.
I hated it. My hand drifted down and I almost touched his white cheek. I so badly wanted those eyes to open. I wanted to see the twinkle in his eye again, the one that told me I could be happy, even though everything else seemed so wrong and so sad. His eyes didn’t open, and somewhere inside, my body found a new spring of tears to drown my vision. I turned way from the casket and followed the procession out of the chapel never to see it again.

Quick Explanations and Stuff

2009-01-08T01:38:00.001-08:00

Ok, so i hope everyone's ready and excited about the big TLD debut. It doesn't really matter to me if you are or aren't because i am. I'm setting my blog to post the little chapters at 2:00 AM every other Thursday this year starting tomorrow, or today prolly for those of you reading this. So for those of my readers who live in PA and happen to be interested it will be available at 6:00 AM for you, and for those living in AK, if your up real late you can have a early viewing. lol

I'm putting little music tracks below the short chapters just for fun. I like reading to music that matches the mood of the chapter. When you hit it just right with the music you can pull a lot more out of the story. When i'm reading a book at home i'll go through some soundtracks and put a track on a loop that matches what i'm reading. It's just something i like doing. Anyway, i don't know if i'll keep putting up matching music unless i can find something that matches for each chapter.

If you're going to listen with music then wait until after the eulogy or obituary or whatever it is to play it. It really fits with what happens after that.

Each chapter should be about 3 pages long, so don't expect too much. If i made it any longer i wouldn't be able to keep up and would get discouraged and quit.

Ok, i guess i'd better go to bed. I hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing. I would have fun with this story even if no one read it, but when i know someone's following along, it sort of gives me motivation. Feedback would actually be appreciated in this case, but don't feel obligated. I'm just real curious to see what everyone will think of it now, and later on as the story progresses.

Thanks