Decompression

When I first left Nashville in August I was a bubbling boy awaiting something that was new and different, with so many unknowns on my plate I had no idea what to think school would be like, obviously I had people's stories to go on, but those stories cannot fully sum up what college is, or the feeling you get when you know you are where you are supposed to be. I realized the night before I left that I liked this girl from Nashville, which kind of messed up my plans to just go and have very few connections with Nashville, because this girl was so amazing I had to try – this will continue later. When I got to school I found my room mate and I got along great, I met up with my friend Caitlin, who I met at orientation (I told that story in a previous post). Second night I was at Loyola Carl, Caitlin, and I went to a hooka bar with an incredible group of people, some of who became my closest friends, other just kind of faded into the background, but I still see most of them on a regular basis.

It was funny because after every week I would look over my week and feel completely accomplished, exhausted, but accomplished – I think I had a fear that I wouldn't be able to do all the work, so each week that I didn't fail every piece of homework was an accomplishment. That quickly faded, and it just became a part of "life" not just something I was trying out.
By the time fall break rolled around I was fully ready for some space from Loyola, I needed to get away to put some perspective on the whole thing. So I came back to Nashville to tell that girl that I liked her, and get a grip on my life. So, I crammed hang out time in with everyone that I could and truly enjoyed being back here, seeing everyone, experiencing everything again, just kind of reliving what had become my "old" life. Before I left I told her that I liked her, and she told me she liked me too, it seemed like something could have happened between us, a little bit of hope, you know?
So, I got back to school ready to be thrown back into the pits of school work, because, i kind of knew what to expect, I accepted school as my life, and I had gotten the hang of it all. This quickly became problematic because I was only investing my time in school and people, and just began to spiral downward into a rather nasty cycle of putting my energy into my school work and only getting a grade back, which in case you are not aware, is not very satisfying when you compare it to helping people open their eyes up to a new possibility of how to live their lives, like I had been doing when I lived in Nashville. I came to a point where I realized what was happening and just pulled myself quickly back out of that, it helped for a while, but I found myself quickly heading back down that same path.

All this time, things with the girl seemed like they were headed somewhere, but little did I know my chances for having anything were becoming less and less likely.
Midterms came and went, and most of them I did alright on, of course I could have done better on them, but they weren't as heinous as I had been laid to believe by TV, haha.
Thanksgiving came, and I decided, because things had gone so well with the girl the last time, that I should probably head back to Nashville to see her, spend time with my other friends, and spend time with my family, which the majority of was in town – there were just too many good things going to happen to avoid it because of my petty angst. So, I came back.
I once again was on a whirlwind tour, spending time with people up until the very last minute that I was here. I had an incredible thanksgiving with my family, maybe the best there's ever been. I saw the girl, she told me she had been hanging out with this guy, but of course I care not for trivialities like that, so I put it out of my mind and kept on with my mission to woo her, even though she lived in Nashville and I lived in Chicago. Spending time with friends, was amazing though, not one moment was wasted, or bad, it all seemed really enjoyable – it was just a really good trip all around, nothing bad about it; I even enjoyed spending time with my parents, which is rare these days.

Came back to school, again, ready to just get back into it, so I did. Fell back into my patterns of putting all my emotional energy into school, and getting only grades back, realized and tried to pull myself back out of it, succeeded and then....
The girl called me and informed me, rather off-handedly, than her and previous mentioned boy were now dating – come to find out now that this had been true over thanksgiving, so all my hope during thanksgiving was rather unwarranted.
Devastated I tried to accomplish my work, to no avail, I had lost all my motivation. I realized that not only had I been putting most of my emotional energy into school work, but the little bit that was left had gone completely into this girl, who, at this point had completely moved past me telling her that I liked her, and was dating this boy. I realized that I nothing to live for, since most of my hope had been directed towards this girl, I realized I had to bring my priorities back in line and make it through this semester, even though I was broken as a human being.
So I pulled myself back together long enough to make it through Finals, and did pretty well on most of my finals, again, I could have done better, but I feel alright with my final grades, next semester will be better, that I am sure of.

So I am back in Nashville waiting for next semester to start. I have a couple of projects to keep me occupied, which I'm really thankful for, but for the most part I just want to be back at Loyola, already. I have decided to stop pursuing girls, like, at all, if a girl comes along that I like, I'll hang out with her, but I'm not gonna try to make anything happen, I've tried that for a while now and have gotten nowhere, so I'm just gonna let it be for a while.
School next semester is going to be awesome, I am really looking forward to my classes, and getting to see all my amazing friends, and meeting new ones, so on and so forth.
Right now, though, I just have to make it through the next few weeks without going crazy, because being back in my parent's house is driving me crazy, and I've only been here since Sunday, I can't even imagine how bad my angst is going to get by the time I leave on the 12th.

P.S. there is an entire other topic that I didin't touch base on during this post, and thats church/christianity, so maybe I'll do one on my experience with that this past semester, but, maybe the last post I did will suffice, we'll see how I feel.
Peace.

its gonna be short and to the point

As I have a ridiculously small amount of time, and I want to write this before the current song ends, I will just get to the point.

Yesterday was the last official day of class, it was not the last day of work, but "class" is done. I have finals this up coming week, and honestly, having never taken one in my life, I can only base my idea of them on what other people tell me, and they tell me they are going to destroy me, we will see.
There has been thing going on, which I don't really want to talk about in general, but should mention as it pertains to my current state of mind. Basically this thing has been causing me huge problems of late, it has, in the last couple months been a source of happiness, and sometimes it was the only way I kept myself (for better or worse), but now....now it has become poisonousness to me, and everytime the subject gets brought I just lose all motivation to do anything, and have to spend days recovering.

Alright my song is over, and I need to get crack-a-lackin on these six essays that are due Tuesday. I will write a much longer, much more indepth post when I have time again, which will be over Christmas break, hopefully.
peace to you all.

Home...?

So I'm going home today, and well, frankly I just feel weird calling it that. There is certainly an element of nostalgia when I go back to Nashville, but for the most part, I just feel weird all around. I am excited to see everyone who will be there when I get back, but the town, the place, the house I used to live in–and still keep some of my crap in–are just not home for me anymore.
A friend of mine describes home as the other place that she is not right now. What she means is that when she goes back to her home town, that is going home, but when she is talking about coming back to Loyola she is also coming home, but I think for me Chicago is home, and more specifically this campus, not necessarily my dorm room, because I am beginning to feel more and more annoyance at having to live in such a small space, and share it with another person, but this campus is definitely home.
I always think about that conversation in Garden State where Natalie Portman and Zach Braff are sitting in the swimming pool and Zach Braff is talking about his own experience of home and he says

"You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore…all of the sudden even though you have some place to put your shit, that idea of home is gone…"

I don't know, the older I get the more this remains true for me, except I'm not quite as pessimistic as he is. So when I go back to the house I grew up in, today, I will be thinking about Garden State, and I will be missing Chicago, because its home, to me, and I like that idea.

Getting back in the saddle

I thought this was a rather appropriate way to talk about what I am going through right now, or, rather, one of the bigger things I am dealing with.
Since I left Nashville I haven't really found a community of Christians that I truly connect with. I found this church up in Evanston which is amazing, but I don't really feel connected to the church outside of Sunday morning, since I only know like four people, total, one of them I have known since I was 14, so... yeah, I haven't met too many people outside of my close knit group.
Then there is this on campus ministry group. I absolutely love some of the people, like, I feel like they could be some of my closest friends if.... if I would just let them. Here's the thing, though, I have just come out of a long term relationship with one of the most amazing churches I may ever attend, and I feel like I am trying to get back in the saddle.
So the church I just came out of is sweet, gentle, loving, comfortable, and altogether perfect...for where I was, but I am beginning to move past that, and am beginning to grow as a person, so now, having moved on from that particular relationship I find myself not really knowing how to trust a new church or community.
So, thats where I find myself. In this new community where I know that its really good for me, but I am not sure how to relate to it yet, and I haven't really gotten to know the community so its hard to know. Plus you have this really interesting combinations of church denominations all piled on top of each other so much so that there feels like very little coherence – Everyone's pulling in their own direction.
Do I want to stay involved in this community? Yes, very much so. Should I continue trying, even though whenever I walk out of there I feel like I've just come out of a blackhole of Christian culture? OH YEAH, definitely

Besides just my aversion towards Christian culture I just have this general forgetfulness of the "christianness" of my life. Its weird not being constantly surrounded by it, I mean, none of my close friends are christians, some of them are religious, but not Christian. Even the Christians that I know seem to have very different attitudes towards the whole thing than I am used to. I want to talk to one of my friend's because she is a christian, and I think she might be able to help me sort out some of the things that I'm feeling, but you can never know for sure – I guess she would probably be able to, at least, give me her opinion of her situation, which would be very helpful.

All this is to say: I am very confused when it comes to Christianity lately and I just don't know where to turn for guidance anymore.
I hope you all are well.
peace.

"It's sixteen miles to the promised land and I promise you I'm doing the best I can..."

So I've been meaning to write for a few days now, I just haven't had a whole lot to say. But I guess I kind of do now. Life's good, right now. It's been stressful, don't get me wrong, I've sort of reached this place where I am a little bit tired all the time and I don't really realize how tired I am anymore, I just... well, am. The classes that are going to be easy and the classes that are going to be hard have made themselves clear. So far the easiest class I have is my Intro to the Bible class, because all the teacher does is give us all the information we'll need to pass the exam, which I don't really mind, because I am doing more indepth study of the book he gave us, which is a really really cool overview of the bible – very helpful for someone who wants to teach people about God, eh?. I got all the questions right on my first intro to the bible exam, so I'm pretty effing happy about that – but I mean with a bible teacher like Mr. Dixon Kinser, how could I possibly do badly :).
My other classes are really good, but I am not doing nearly as good in them. Spanish... I think for Spanish I just have to learn ALL the words, it's not too hard, I am good at remembering the spelling for words, so that helps, but it's just a lot of new information to keep straight, but in general it's going really well – I had my first Spanish exam today, I think I did alright, I know I could have done better (like known every single answer to every single question, like my intro to the bible course, heh), but I know I will get a decent grade, and I know exactly what I need to study more in depth... conjugation (not to be confused with copulation, click to find out what I'm talking about... don't worry, it's just animaniacs), besides that, I think I did well on it.
Statistics is going to destroy me, in fact I almost gave up on it yesterday because I was just sooo effing frustrated with it, but I think if I just studying my ass off I'll be okay, at least for now. I don't think I'll get an A in the class, but I think I will hopefully get upper C or B, we'll see.
My writing class is actually really cool, my teacher is such an interesting guy, just the other day he was telling us about his time in the army, and how he was the guy with "his finger on the button, it wasn't actually a button... but it was a toggle switch, two in fact", haha. His job, apparently, was the guy who in the event of a major war pushed the button to blow up enemy troops.... oh, yeah, get this, he was in the army during the Cold War, which is ridiculous. Anyhoo, the class will build up in difficulty, so that's good.

I miss teaching kids about God, the only outlet I have is the on campus group called Capture, which I am trying REALLY hard to stay out of a leadership role, just because I know that I will start trying to change it to what I'm familiar with, and I know that I have to let that go, so I'm just showing up and being there, and talking to people. Eventually I'll get involved with music and that'll be good, because, honestly I need some sort of musical outlet and I like using my gifts for that instead of self promotion.

I wrote this song the other day, which is the first song that I've started writing on a while, and... I don't know, I think I'm getting really stuck in this acoustic, folk, indie... rut, and that it's bad, but I don't know, I'm just not sure if I want to get categorized in the way, or maybe it's more that I don't want to get categorized, but I will, because music stems from other music, and it would be nearly impossible to come up with a completely new sound, especially if you listen to as much music as I do. I wrote two songs at the beginning of the year and after a whole lot of work and time (I like to call the process cooking off the fat) I am pretty satisfied with what has come from those two little diddies. I recorded them over the summer with this little recorder that my parents have, and I really do think both of them are really good (I am cocky, I know... but I am not just saying that they are good, I really think they are). I'll hopefully get around to creating a virb.com site for my music pretty soon, just so I have it out there.

All in all, I am enjoying life thoroughly. Chicago's amazing, things are great. I miss people, mostly. Oh! and Portland Brew.... I want to taste the sweet taste of Portland Brew coffee real bad :)
Well this post is long enough as it is. I will bid you all fairwell for now,
peace.

:-D

There is nothing quite as satisfying as knowing that you have finished a week’s work and can take even the smallest amount of rest. So, here I am, enjoying the fact that there is a beautiful water front 100 yards from my dorm. I am done with my second week of classes, I am worn out, and I am ready for even the time I get between now and tomorrow to rest and enjoy some of the people I have come to call my friends. I love it here. I mean, obviously it’s going to get colder, and it’s going to snow, and all the grass and plants are going to get covered up... but I think, even when the landscape isn’t picturesque I am going to love it here. There’s just.... there’s something in the air, I guess, it’s almost a magical quality.
Have you ever done something that was so perfect that when you look back on it you wonder why it wasn’t in your life before the moment you found it? That’s pretty much how I feel all the time. Sure, I’m worn out, sure, I’m exhausted beyond belief right now, and up until I took a nap earlier I was having a horrible but day, but even in the midst of being completely worn to the bone this place is still right, and I can feel it. I don’t mean “feel” like “oh, I think I feel something” I mean feel like when you touch a rock, you know it’s there, you know it’s true, not because you have proven the rock is there by touching it, but because – there’s no other way to say it – you just know.
The friends I have found here are great, I am only just beginning to really get farther than just normal stuff, but I think some of these people will stick it out with me until the end of college – or at least I’d like to think that. I’ve already had people ask me to buy them alcohol – my room mate include – I have flat out told them no, which, for the most part, they have all been cool with, if they want it bad enough they’ll get fake IDs which is what they were gonna do before I they knew I was 21 anyway. I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since I got here, not because I haven’t wanted a beer, but just because I don’t want to encourage underage drinking and until earlier this week I hadn’t found anybody who was over 21. Thankfully I met some guys at the on campus Non-Denominational ministry that are over 21 which was a HUGE relief to meet some people my age. They invited me to hang out, watch football, and drink beer, I’ll take them up on it eventually, but I can’t this Sunday because I’m helping Allison move into her apartment (god freaking damn I am sooooo excited).

My young friend Caitlin (who I have a funny story about, which I will tell in a second) has quickly fallen into starting HUGE amounts of drama, mostly regarding every single boy liking her (except Carl, he’s the only one that doesn’t). Caitlin is one of those people who I just connect with really easily, it’s funny cause the first time we met was at orientation, and there was just something special about it, I don’t mean like romantically, I just mean that there was a significance to it that I can’t quite put my finger on. Oh, right, so Caitlin, and how we met. She and I went to the same orientation, and if I remember correctly, I had seen her once or twice before I actually introduced myself to her. Anyhoo, so the second day that we’re there for orientation they had this thing called the org fair, which stands for “Organization Fair” which is where all the organizations come together and try to convince you to join their organization – the whole concept makes me really uncomfortable. So we both had to go get our IDs like right on top of when the Org Fair was, so we didn’t really get to check out any of the organizations and were both headed back over to the org fair when got stopped at the street that runs right down the middle of campus. So it was just the two of us sitting there waiting for the walk sign to come up, and – after talking to her recently about it – we both had thought that it would probably be a good idea to introduce ourselves to the other, but didn’t actually do it, so the walk sign came up, and we crossed and walked what felt like an awkward eternity to Halas (our sports and recreation center) – it was actually more like a block. It got even better when we they told us that the Org Fair had closed down and we realized that we would have to make that same walk in that awkward silence that only an introduction can break. So I introduced myself which was – as she puts it – “probably one of the best decisions ever.” I like to believe that it’s a good sign that our friendship was originally created in awkwardness, because my only other friendship that was forged in that much awkwardness is with my best friend, Matthew, so I’m hoping this friendship takes that particular turn as far as depth.
Class is hard for me to adjust to, but I definitely love it, but it’s a lot to take in, and there’s so much that I have to change to make it work. I have lived so long outside of an academic setting it’s painful to change one’s life so drastically.

Oh yeah, here’s something that excites me: Roger’s Park (the part of town where Loyola is located) is the most diverse sector in the entire United States. Yup, that’s right. It’s awesome.

I hope you are all doing well, I love and miss you, I should be coming home on the 6th of October for fall break.... so I’ll see you soon hopefully.
peace.

Going well

I just wanted to let everyone know that I am doing great. I'm headed off to class in about 20 minutes and it's freakin' exciting. I mean, the idea that I only have to pay my immortal soul to have people teach me things that I don't know for four years... I mean, that's a deal that can't be beat :-D.
I have made at least a starting group of friends, so that's great. My room mate and I get along pretty well, we don't have a whole lot in common, but that's not really a big deal – at least we get along personality wise. It's been nice to have someone with me at all times, because it means no matter what happens I'm never alone, which is a very comforting feeling.

I feel like I am living by the seat of my pants, always on the move, never able to stop and just be, because I am on the move so much, trying to be with people and trying to figure out everything I need to get done, and then on top of that I have to call people from Nashville (the one's who have called me) back, and then call other people (like my parents) and tell them how I'm doing – which I haven't really found time for.
Things are going well, I am making friends, people are nice, the girls are pretty, and there's just so many different opportunities I don't even know where to get involved first. I don't really know what the hell I'm doing, but I'm keeping my eyes open and learning on my feet. We'll see what happens :)

I think I found it

To say the least, right now I am doing absolutely, fantastically, stupendously, fantabulously wonderful. I went to my college orientation up in Chicago (Loyola! WOOT!) – my dad came along. Our initial plan was to just go up the day before orientation and spend a few hours in the city hanging and just doing whatever and then head back to the hotel and then head back and get some sleep (since orientation started at 8... well it sort of did anyway...?). However, that plan was immediately thrown out the window when my dad realized that the CrossRoads Guitar Festival (Eric Clapton's big raise money for Drug and Alcohol rehabilitation event) was the day before, so my dad bought tickets to that, and we changed our flight and the only way – that made any sense anyway – that we were going to make it to Toyota Park (which is where The Chicago Fire soccer team plays.... the idea that Chicago has it's own soccer team is too exciting for words) was to rent a car. So, we flew up Saturday morning (two days before orientation), rented a car, and then immediately headed over to Toyota park. CrossRoads was actually pretty freakin' amazing. We saw – in no particular order – John Mayer, Jeff Beck, B.B. King, Allison Krause & Union Station, Vince Gil, Sheryl Crow, Willie Nelson, Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, and last – and my personal favourite – Bill Murray – yes, that's right, Bill Murray was hosting the event so we got to see him come out on stage after pretty much every performer and just hang out and do funny stuff (like talk about how the Cubs are gonna win the World Series this year... we all had a good laugh over that one). The event last from twelve noon until eleven o'clock that evening. We ate bad food, had too little water, too little sleep, we were jetlagged, we were rocked, my dad had an amazing time watching bands he'd hadn't seen in 20 years, or hadn't seen ever even though he wanted to and I enjoyed just getting to see my dad being himself and happy – it's a rare thing to see my father worry free, and just truly enjoying everything around him, it's something I'll probably remember for the rest of my life and strive to be like (although I would prefer to reach that place of joy and care-free-ness far more often than he does).

Day 2: After the events of CrossRoads we drove down to our hotel (it was in Lansing, about 40 minutes outside of down town Chicago) and got some shut eye. The next morning we woke up whenever the hell we wanted (which might have been the first time my dad has slept-in in – maybe – years) and got out of our hotel around lunch time. We went to this interesting little place in Lansing area that served just about everything, from gyros to steak, and just about everything in between. After we waddled out of the restaurant (for the portions were gigantic) we made our way north to see if we could find a "Park and ride station" where could park our car and ride the train up into Chicago/near Loyola. We were on a hunt for the elusive "two day pass" but being the newbs that we are we thought maybe, if we continued up State street we would find a station along the way that we could park our car and ride the train up to Loyola. By the time we reached the outskirts of downtown we had given up on the idea of finding such a place and just decided that we would use the gas that we had pre-paid for at the airport and just drive up to Loyola to explore the area.
We got to Loyola about mid-afternoon, and since my dad and I had already been up to Loyola earlier in the year for a visit we decided that we didn't need to see Loyola we needed to see around it, and for me, I wanted to find a coffee something, that will fill the void that will be left by my absence from Portland Brew (since I spend every monday there). So drove around. For a while. A good long while. We found lots of things that were amazing, and cool and exciting like the local Baguette store, a bunch of hispanic markets, an amazing amount of housing just off the Loyola campus, but last but not least Starbucks – I am fully opposed to drinking Starbucks coffee (at least if there is anyway that I can avoid it) – so I was not satisfied, I had not accomplished my goal of finding a coffee shop and I was a little bummed by that fact. We continued driving around however, and eventually found ourselves a little lost – we knew how to get back but we didn't know where we were.
[this is where the story gets really good] We drive down this street (which ends up being down the street from Loyola) and my dad spies a sign a coffee cup on a sign that says "Caffé Bocacho" and we quickly turn at the nearest street and park – my dad and I had spent the entire day trying to find places to park and never could find any, so we took this as a sign that there was something special about this place. We get out of the car and head towards Caffé Bocacho scratching our heads what language the word "Bocacho" was. We walk up to the place and the door is open, we look over and see a sign that says what they sell and it says "Espresso, Latte, Ice Cream, Popsicles, Juice" (not necessarily things that you can really sustain a business on – keep this in mind while we continue on). I want you to imagine this very carefully and I will try to explain the sheer awesomeness of this room: there we two men sitting at a table by the door speaking a language that my dad and I couldn't recognize, there is a bar with stools, there is a row of stools with a bar against the wall opposite from the main bar; there is very low light in the room, like maybe a couple lights on dim, and the light from the door. I head for the bar to sit down and a man walks out from a door in the back and walks up to us, but says nothing, he just walks around us and goes behind the bar, and after we sit down he asks us what we would like, I say "do you have coffee" he says "yes. espresso or latte", my dad and I not really ever having had either are a little slow on responding, finally my dad asks for an espresso and I order the same just for ease – you should note that the man who came out of the back room and was serving us had these eyes, they were really messed up, we thought maybe he was part of war involving chemical weapons because of the way his eyes were. So the man with the eyes makes us our drinks and gives them to us, and we start drinking them and they are actually really good, like this was actually pretty high quality coffee. So we're sitting there drinking our espressos when a man comes out of the back room (the same one as mentioned earlier) with cash in his hands and starts talking to the guy with the eyes in the same language that we can't quite place. The man with money goes back into the back room and the man with the eyes goes back behind the bar. This whole time the two guys at the door keep looking over at us questioningly, like they were asking "what the hell are you doing here" the whole time. Yet another man comes out from the door in the back, this man has money as well, but there's more of it, and he comes around to the man with the eyes and sits down at the bar and starts talking to him, probably about the money...? All the while my dad and I are just sitting there drinking our espressos talking about our day, and whispering about how deliciously awkward this coffee shop is. While we are sitting there I look up at the mirrors that are placed above the main bar and see that the second man with the money is just sitting at the bar – it was a U-shaped bar, my dad and I were on the bottom part of the U and the man was sitting on the top left – staring at us, but he doesn't realize that I can see him just staring (he's not saying anything, he's just staring, however whenever he does say something to the man with the eyes he stares at us like he is checking to see if we can understand what it is he is saying. I want to make special note that in the fourty-five minutes that we were there that nobody else came into Bocacho besides the people who were coming in from the door in the back – which if you don't know this is usually a sign of criminal activity (haha). So here my dad and I are seemingly being watched by the three men in the room, with a parading cast of characters, nothing of any real substance being sold (I don't know how a business with no customers and sells only what they sell can stay open in an expensive place like Chicago), in a dimly lit room probably originally built as a seedy bar, and slavic folk music being played in the background.
We left Bocacho with espresso running through our veins a skip in our step and the experience of a life time in our minds – everytime I think of Bocacho I can't help but laugh because of how deliciously awkward the whole thing was... like that scene from Garden State with the shirt that matches the wall paper. Bocacho is the stuff of indie film greatness.
The rest of Sunday consisted of a little bit more driving around until we found the East African Restaurant – that was actually what the sign said, there was no name on the outside of the building – that we had found earlier and ate an amazing meal – I had beef suqaar with mofa... it was quite scrumptious.

Day 3: We had originally to get up at five-fourty-five and get showered and get out of the hotel no later than 6:30, because we were driving up to the airport to drop the car off so that we could take the train up to Loyola (since Loyola has it's own stop it makes a lot of sense to avoid trying to find parking). Well my dad didn't set the alarm on his cell phone right so he it didn't even go off, thankfully we woke up at seven and got out of there by seven-thirty, which means there was butt loads of traffic and we were already an hour behind. We got to the airport, dropped off the car and got on the train, the L if you will. I have, or rather, had never been on a train before so this was a new experience in so many different ways. We get on the orange line and we find ourselves a seat and spend about thirty minutes just getting downtown so we can switch from the orange to the red line. On the trains nobody looks at anyone ,or rather nobody looks at anyone while the other person is looking at them to keep up minimal eye contact. It's a very weird thing to me to try to avoid eye contact with so many people for so long – it's funny cause even though they try not to make eye contact there's a certain amount of connection that happens with two people just being in proximity with each other for that amount of time, unlike in Nashville where there is no connection because the only time you see people outside of their cars is when they're in a restaurant or a mall (I think that's why coffee shops are so popular here, it's about connecting in some small way). So we spend about an hour and change getting from Midway up to Loyola and by this time we are two hours late (we were supposed to be there at eight and we got there right about ten o'clock), but it doesn't really matter cause it meant we avoided most of the boring stuff and got right into the good stuff. The first day was cool, it was nice to meet people who I could get along with and I at least got a feeling for what I was getting myself into socially, so that was good. All in all it was a good day, but it's funny cause even though nothing really happened I enjoyed the second day, WAAAAAAAY more. The first day was really structured and the second day they gave you a schedule and basically said, "you go here and do these things if you want, they will all be helpful to you, but it's not required" and I liked the fact that they showed you around everything and gave you everything you needed to know in a structured way and then just gave you the freedom to be. I met this cool girl while I was walking over to the sports center where they had a bunch of tables set up so you could find out more about the different programs you can get involved with outside of the academic stuff, but by the time I got over there they had taken everything down. So, like I was saying, I met this girl because she was walking over there too and we both got there and they told us that it was closed and as we were walking out she was like "were you headed there too?" and I was like "yeah, I had an early..." so on and so forth. I introduced myself and as we were walking back over to the building where all us freshmans were staying we just talked (she told me I looked like an indie folk singer... so I guess my appearance is a reflection of who I am, haha) and then I had to go do some final stuff and so when I came back for lunch I couldn't find any body to sit with, because all the people I had met were either just not present or had gone home already, so I sat by myself. Heh, but she came in and was like "you shouldn't sit by yourself" and so she sat down and we just started talking about classes and stuff, and then a girl that I had met the previous night came in and sat down too, and we all just talked about classes, and school, and music.... and man, I am just so pumped about the whole thing, being in school, being in Chicago, maybe being able to play some shows while I'm up there, who knows maybe I'll be able to put a band together and get something going musically.
Meeting all the new people, realizing how intense Chicago is, riding the L, thinking about concerts, being in the city that's so ethnically diverse, living on my own, living in a dorm, having a roommate.... just everything in general got me thinking about all the stuff I have learned from my mentor, with all the stuff we have talked about about engaged, and using our energies for connection, being a part of a local community and bringing people into Christianity not by conversion but by living together, being authentic, being genuine and kind, Christians being the inviters, about them being the people that break the ice, shake the hand first, humanize all those around us. All those things become real and true when you put them together. When you talk about a social gospel here in Nashville, when most of who you see is the same as you because you never get out of your car in Jo Johnston, and you never drive out to 68th street because there aren't any malls out there, the apple store is not on 12th and Jefferson – but Mary's Ribs is, when you talk about a Gospel that's genuine and authentic and your story is Starbucks, designer jeans made to look like you've worn them for years and American Cheese then you've missed the point. But when what you are surrounded by is people seeking to help the world (one biologist who works at Loyola is trying to figure out how to stop the Malaria virus at any of it's many stages, and if she accomplishes this she could saves millions of people from a disease that when you look at a map of the world that shows the density of how many people have malaria and you put up to a map that shows the same information for poverty they line up almost exactly.) Chicago, Loyola, Bocacho, the L, the buses, the people... it all makes me want to jump up and down screaming "IT'S REAL! THE GOSPEL IS REAL! THE GOOD NEWS! don't you get it? Jesus loves you, and I see you, I see you for what you are, you are not what you do, you are not what you say, you are not defined by the things that you own, you are God's creation, you are made in his image and he loves every ounce of you!"

I know your face

The other night at Liturgy (our Sunday evening youth worship gathering-ish thing) we had this icon of Jesus as a part of one of our worship stations. The station was pretty cool unto itself (it was called The Balloon Prayer), but it's not the station that I want to talk about, it's the comment that one of our adult volunteers made about his experience with the station/icon. He said "it was interesting sitting there tonight, looking at this icon – I've looked at it many times before, but tonight it really struck me: I don't know this guy". Uhhhhhhh, holy crap, holy crap, holy crap! That single brilliant comment tapped into a lot of stuff I've been feeling lately about this whole personal-relationship-with-Jesus-Christ thing. I've been realizing that I kind of... well... don't have one. I feel like I know Jesus like you would know your grandfather who died before you were really aware of what was going on: through pictures and stories. I mean you may have met him once or twice but you definitely couldn't say that you "knew" him (this happens to be the relationship I have with my maternal grand father, with him dieing when I was like 5, and my family living in Africa two of those years). I would go so far as to say that because you didn't know your grandfather all that well, you sometimes struggle to even be able to incorporate his life into what is called "reality" – obviously, your grandfather existed, and you realize you wouldn't be who you are/even exist without him, but it's hard to accept the reality of that.

A few weeks back I was in Target buying flip flops and I ran into this girl who I sort of knew from a previous job and if I had talked to her the conversation probably would have gone something like: "Hey.... I remember you from ____, ummm crap, what's your name again, I'm sorry, I know your face, but not your name." I feel this way when I come in contact with God/Holy Spirit/Jesus, I feel like I recognize who they are, but I don't really have a lot of personal history with them.

I guess I kind of wish my relationship with God was more like my relationship with my best friend. Because with me and my best friend... it doesn't matter how far apart we are, or how long we go in between when we talk, we always can come back together and be real with each other. And when we do go long periods of time in between when we talk, I begin to feel it – it's like everything begins to just become overwhelming, but when I start talking to him again, he reminds me to just... be me, and even when I tell him about my crap(pronounced shit) he's still real with me. Even when I challenge him, or he challenges me, it's out of love and mutual respect for the other person. In our relationship there is no dominant figure; sometimes he's the one teaching me, sometimes I'm the one teaching him, but, more often then not, we are both just lost and trying to figure it out, but we're together so it doesn’t seem so hopeless.
He once told me that the day he realized we were best friends was the day that he realized that "no matter what, Jeffrey, you aren't gonna laugh at me for me being me."
I want my relationship with Jesus to be like the relationship I have with my closest friends: when I hear about where they are in their lives and how they are doing, and you know, what's happening, it gives me hope; and when I see their beautiful little faces... it has the power to bring me back from whatever funk I find myself in at the time.

I've never felt that feeling when it came to God/Jesus, though. It's always been this thing that's just out of reach. I once had this dream that I was looking for this toy (pictured right); I tried and tried to get a hold of this toy, but nothing seemed to work, until finally I found myself in this giant bag of toys, searching for this one action figure, and then, finally, I found it; I reached for it, but the moment that I should have felt the plastic in my little hands, was the moment I woke up. That's how I feel about my search for God, everytime I think I've figured out where to look, I reach, and nothing's there, it seems like it's always a disappointment. It always feel like a one sided thing.

God has always been this distant figure that was just waiting for me to get up the courage to come and find him. It’s never been personal, or a relationship, but as experience tells me there is always a way of changing that, there’s always of stepping up the relationship if both parties are really willing to try. But here’s what I believe about God, he’s interested in having a relationship with me, but he’s not really willing to be the one who instigates it. Even though most things in the bible would refute that, I still believe it, because it’s what I’ve experienced. Maybe my relationship with my parents effects my belief on God, but even if it does, why doesn't he do more to challenge that belief? Why doesn't he do more to show that he's really there and with me in the stress/worry/anxiety/pain/struggle?

I've been trying to write this post for a few weeks now, and I think I've gotten to a place where I'm comfortable saying what I'm about to say. I don't know if I can even believe in God anymore because I don't ever know if there's anything there and I've never really found prayer to do much of anything besides direct my own intentionality towards something.

I do however wish you all peace. May you ask the hard questions and hopefully get the hard answers.

As for me....

As for me: last night I realized that while I’m here in Nashville I have to stop being an ass(again and again and again) and begin to try looking at how good I have it here and try being thankful/grateful. I don’t know why I believe this but I hold a belief that when I leave for college somehow everything will be different, like somehow all my angst and annoyance at the way my life is will somehow just magically disappear. If I can’t handle all of the things that bother me so much here, if my method of dealing with them is to run away then how is going to be any different in college?

computers

So, yesterday I went over to the apple store with almost $2,000 dollars in my bank account, with the intent to buy myself a macbook, a printer, applecare, and a nice little sleeve thing(nice for hot pockets) to protect my computer. I did it, I spent practically all my money, but this computer is something that I know is totally worth it. This computer will help me through college, and help me with life, music, and work. Apple computers work the way computers should work, they function like life, almost. If you think something should work a certain way, it probably does on an Apple.
So just know, Jeffrey has a sweet new computer peace.

P.S. her name is Ariel and we are madly in love.

Feet

So we find ourselves in Holy Week (the holiest of all weeks, naturally) and last night I participated in the Maunday Thursday service, which is a service in which we take part in what Jesus did at the Passover before he died(called the "Last Supper" being exactly what the name implies), where he washes the feet of the place of least honour at the table, which was Peter whom he built his church on...very interesting stuff.
So this was my first time to really do the foot washing and not just watch it, and it was unbelievable, it was intimate, but not in a creepy stalkish way, in a way that meant, in a way that challenged me to try to live more like that all the time. That is not my point though, the most powerful part of the night for me was the fact that we all took off our shoes, we all went up to the foot washing stations (located in the front of the church) with our shoes off. I don't know about you, but for me, being barefoot is a very freeing thing. It's like, when I put on shoes I can pretend to be something else, but when you are exposed like that....you are you, just like you are at home, just like you are at your most intimate times, just like you were the day you were born.
It got me thinking about the first night of Lent when I cut off all my hair, and felt the amazing feeling of the wind blowing through my hair, and how it kept reminding me of the presence of God. I was thinking that if I were to, say, take off my shoes during church I would feel that same kind of thing, because after your feet have been confined in shoes for so long and you take them off there's that same freedom, just like my hair, how you can feel the air on your feet – like it's the first time you've ever felt it.

Kind of reminds of why churches sometimes use incense, to remind us of the presence of God through a tactile means.

College/When vanity becomes judgmentalism

So this weekend the youth group that I practice my faith with went up to DuBose conference center for our annual spring retreat called "ekklesia", this year the topic was death, and how we in America can go about appropriating it. The weekend went really well, we had a good time, there was just sooooo much information that was spoken that it would have been nearly impossible to take it all in. On Saturday after noon while we were sitting in a Mexican restaurant out in Winchester, Tn, mi madre calls to tell me that I had just gotten a letter from Loyola University in Chicago (#1 school), she had not opened it but she said the letter said "congratulations" on the outside. I tell her that I'll call her later that afternoon so that she can read what it says. Later on I call her and she begins to read "Dear Jeffrey... Congratulations we would like to extend an invitation...you have been awarded scholarship..." so on and so forth; all the important things were included. So, my friends, as of Saturday at about 4 o'clock I am officially in college. One of the cool parts was that I got to share it directly with a couple of my really good friends who were up there with us. The process, of course, is not over, I gotta figure out whether it's even possible for me to go to this school, because the cost is astronomical, but I'll be damned if something like impossible odds will keep me from feeling this incredible feeling of relief – at least for a couple days.

I have been noticing recently that I do a fair amount of deciding what I think of people by the way they look. Not that the way someone looks doesn't say something about who they are, because it effects them very directly and can be the leading cause of one or multiple of their personality traits, however that's no accuse to size someone up based on, well, their size. I think it especially has to do with the way they carry themselves, cause let's be honest, any body(double meaning implied) can be attractive if the person carries themselves well. Maybe it's all about posture....? A posture of confidence usually stems from some sense of confidence and most people who are over weight struggle to find that confidence and therefore posture themselves in an unconfident way, therefore showing that they don't have much confidence (because they don't). It's cyclical, too. Someone who has an overconfident gets complimented a lot, usually, and then they stay overconfident. I don't really know where I'm going with this, but just know this, I can be very shallow when it comes to the way you hold yourself – which is really funny cause I have terrible posture... like all the time.

peace.

sick...music...

Today I am sick. I watched Unbreakable and I'm trying to figure out if I liked it or not. It's been a bad week for the most part.
Being sick sucks, especially when it's your lymph glands in your neck that are swollen, swallowing hurts, eat hurts, yeah it sucks. However, it restful to a certain degree, because you really can't do anything else, and with so much pain you can't think about much else either, so you can't even truly worry about everything that you need to get done – so here's to sickness being our bodies way of telling us we need rest *raises glass*.

Music....
I pretty much hate all the music I've been writing lately, it's boring.... there's nothing really redeeming about. Maybe it's a self hatred thing, or maybe it's just that I can hear how boring it is and don't have the energy to really do something about it. Plus I have nothing to really write about, I'm not really inspired by anything lately, no input.
I guess that's kind of my problem all around. I just have no input, nothing to get me up in the morning, nothing that makes my life worth gettin' up for, you know? Maybe that's why I think I need to leave Nashville so bad, to find something that inspires me. I'm sure I could find something here, but it's not gonna be as easy because I think I know this town, I think I know what's goin' on here in Nashville – it's not true, I don't know much about what actually goes on here.

P.S. I don't write enough, and I honestly need to because it's good for me.

Lent pt. 3: Fashion as a feeling

The thing that has been the hardest part about this Lenten practice has been coming face-to-face with my insecurities. From worrying about my hair, to the clothes I wear, there has been some tension inside of myself. I think we all have a voice inside our heads(not in the “I’m crazy I hear voices way”) that tells us things that aren’t true; the voice in my head tells me that I’m awkward, that I talk too much, that I don’t talk enough or listen enough (which all contradict each other..?) that I’m an inconsiderate jerk, that I’m not “cool” and that girls aren’t attracted to me. In the last couple years the way I dress has become a way in which I can silence that voice, it’s given me confidence to deal with situations that I wouldn’t previously have been able to deal with. It’s weird to think that being comfortable with the clothes you wear might give you strength, isn’t it? But it’s not about the clothes is it? It’s about the feeling that the clothes give us. We want to feel a certain way, maybe we want to look like the people around us so we can feel accepted, maybe we don’t care about the way we look because we want to feel rebellious, or maybe we want to dress differently so we can be set apart in some way, but in the end it’s about the feeling, isn’t it?
I want to feel put together. Obviously I am not. My walk with God should be less about getting it all right and more about being present. I think my clothing has been a way for me to cover up my insecurities so that I can be present. I guess you could say that I have been trying to shape who I am into the image of the way that I look, and not letting who I am shape the way that I look.

peace.

Lent pt. 2: Day 1

(for an explanation read “Lent pt. 1: the set up”)

Pre-Lent: So, on Tuesday I drove down to Chattanooga to visit my best friend and have one of his friends cut my hair. Hah, I wanted him there because I wasn’t sure if I had the cojones to actually cut my hair this short unless he was there.
Day 1: When I woke on Wednesday up there was a moment that felt like I had just woken from a bad dream in which I had cut off all my hair, and then I felt my hair and realized that it wasn’t a dream, I had actually done it. I drove back from Chattanooga with a little bit of trepidation, because I knew that when I got home I would have the “oh you got a hair cut” conversation with everyone that saw me. I went to the Ash Wednesday service, and the only thing I could focus on was me, and how naked I felt I couldn’t get out of my head, I couldn’t connect with anyone, I just thought about myself and how silly I must look – apparently it looks great, which causes me even more tension because I’m trying to let go of my vanity... and when someone’s like “you look great” I am just so confused on how to take it, so I just say “thank you”.

The tension that my hair has caused in me has surprised me greatly. I thought that cutting my hair off was going to alleviate some of the stress, but to be honest, it has been the stress. I’m sure by the time Easter rolls around I will be fully sick of black t-shirts and will want to wear lots of colourful clothing, but for right now I can only think of how little hair I have. An interesting side note, I am horribly afraid of becoming bald in my old age, it’s not in my genetics, but just the thought scares the crap out of me. So this is bringing up all those issues as well.

Lent pt. 1: the set up

Over the last couple years I have been continually encouraged to take on some Lenten discipline or another, last year I gave up “liking girls,” because I had just gotten out of a year long relationship and I just wanted to really bring God into my healing process. The year before that I gave up AOL Instant Messenger, because it had kind of absorbed my life, I would spend 2 hours a day on it – yeah... it was bad. This year, I’m taking on something a little different. This year I am “fasting from vanity“ – as Dixon so aptly put it. It’s kind of a culmination of a number of things: things I’ve read, things people have said to me, tensions I’ve been feeling within myself and my culture and wonderings I’ve had since I was very young. My fast will play out like this: I will wear the same thing every day – or rather what looks like the same thing, I decided I’d get multiple different black t-shirts for hygienic reasons – and cutting my hair really short. – if you’ve ever seen David Bazan you’ll have a pretty clear idea of what I look like. The practice goes deeper then just looks, however, I think it force me to face my own insecurities with the way I look, and be present to God in that place of selfishness.

I’m pretty excited about the discipline, because it not only involves abstaining from something, but it’s bigger than that; it inspires me to be postured towards God, since every movement I make, every time I look in the mirror, every time the wind blows I am reminded of the presence of God. I don’t know how it will play out yet, exactly, but I know that I am really nervous about it, and I believe that it’s going to be very meaningful for me.
peace to you.

i need directions

So I was surfing around on explodingdog.com trying to find one of my favourite pictures of all time (which can be found here) and I ran into this image that is aptly titled "I need direction"
I have recently rediscovered my love of exploding dog.
peace.

So it's 2007

Well it's a new year, I figured it might be time to get a different place to blog. I have been using another site for years and growing increasing dissatisfied with it.
So, since what has been consuming my life has been getting into college, and since this is my first post on here, I would share with you my college essay, I'm rather proud of it.

“Jeffrey Martin: Instant Expert”
By Jeffrey Martin

I feel I should explain that term “Instant Expert,” since what it could mean is different from how I mean it. My mentor is a youth minister, but he also speaks around the country at youth events. When he goes and speaks he always shares the “Dixon Kinser: Instant Expert” power point presentation, which includes pictures of his wife and kids, pictures of his faith community, a picture of where he was born and a clever quip about how his home town is the home of Krispy Kreme and a large tobacco company, “so they are doing their part to better the health of the world” he always says. I want to capture that same vibe here. I want to share with you some of the things that make me who I am. So with that sharing of self in mind I am going to talk about three experiences that have shaped me into who I am: a lifetime spent in motion, the day my sister died, and a day spent in the downtown library. I will start with some information about where I am right now.

Hello, my name is Jeffrey Martin; I am a Christian, and am currently practicing my faith at Saint Bartholomew’s Church here in Nashville and doing an internship under Dixon Kinser, an Episcopal youth minister. In my teenage years I started playing music – guitar, piano, and singing – and fell in love with it, I have always had adeptness with technology and an affinity for movies.

From as early as I can remember my family was on the move. I was born in a suburb outside of Los Angeles, California to a large family of five kids – which grew to eight by the time my youngest sister was born. A little after I was born my parents felt that God was calling them to mission work in Africa. So, they left California – with all us kids in tow – in search of funding and training. I was about three by the time we left for Africa. Once there we found ourselves moving between two different locations: Nairobi, Kenya and Khartoum, Sudan. My parents’ main job – although sometimes it seemed more like a quest – was to translate the Bible into Dinka (or Jeing). We had people coming over on a regular basis to translation. This same pattern continued until I was about nine, when we came back to the U.S. for furlough. Upon our arrival we found that the situation with the church that was supporting us had become very unhealthy and we had to leave that relationship and that church. After a while of just trying to make it my parents’ started looking for another church that might be willing to support them in their call to the Dinka people. We found a church that was interested and have been here ever since. For an explorative person like myself, spending all that time moving around seemed only natural. It was really good for me to see the world at a young age. It showed me that this one city, or country, that I live in is not the entirety of the world; there’s plenty more to see out there.

When I was five-years-old – this was during my time in Kenya – one of my two younger sisters got sick with Malaria. This particular variety of Malaria acts like a severe flu. After a week or two of her just laying in bed it all seemed to turn around: she got up, got out of bed and lived that day like nothing had been wrong with her – just her happy, all smiles, self. That day she did what she loved most: spending time with her family, playing with her Barbie’s and watching movies. We all thought it was going to be okay. The next day we all got up still happy because the day before had been so good, only to find that she seemed sicker than before. As the day turned to night her breathing became heavy so my parents took her to a local hospital. The rest of us waited. By the time my parents came back the tension in the room was unbearable. I will never forget the moment my parents opened the door to the apartment we were living in; it was like everyone in the room, stopped breathing. Someone finally broke the silence in the room and asked the question we were all thinking: “Where’s Stephanie?” my parents, with a glazed look, said, “Stephanie is dead.” It felt like the world stopped at that moment.
For months after that there was no sanity, no time, nothing seemed as important as that night – and it seemed nothing ever would. But, eventually the pain and numbness subside and you begin to be able to enjoy the world around you again. It is a loss of innocence, however, to lose someone so close to you as a sister at such a young age. The world cannot be viewed the same way ever again. You live your life, but you cannot go back to the way that you lived before.

Just this past year, I was involved in a confirmation class. It was a ten-month process, which was to conclude with our Bishop confirming us. Near the end of it, a week or so before we were to be confirmed, the man leading the class had scheduled a “silent retreat” – which, to over simplify, is a time to give yourself space, to interact with God. We were supposed to go to a local park here in Nashville, but it was raining, so we decided that instead of wondering through the rain we would go to the downtown library. Once we got there, the leader explained that we were supposed to go into the library and spend the next three hours or so reading, praying, walking, and interacting with God. Being the explorative type I decided to start by wondering around and just looking. After a while I started to get intrigued by some of the book titles – particularly this one book about art through the ages. As I was reading through the book and looking at the beautiful pieces of art that were shown there I was suddenly struck with the sheer magnitude of the three hundred thousand square foot library that I was sitting in and how much knowledge was contained within it’s fifty seven thousand titles. The more I sat there the more excited I got about being able to open up any one of those books – like you would a window – and look into the life of another human being. I believe we cannot truly know ourselves until we see into someone else’s world.

These stories that I have shared with you; they mean a great deal to me; they are part of the very core of my being. If I had never experienced them, who knows who I would be, but I know that because of them I am who I am right now. By sharing our joys, our sorrows, and our past we allow people to see us, we allow people to know us, and we invite them to share as we have shared, and by doing so, we have changed the world. For I believe that when we embrace someone’s humanity and be present to them even when they are sad or angry, joyous or annoying, loving or hating that we become freed from prejudice.
You know me now; you know my story; you know my life. You have seen a picture of my family, you know where I was born, and you know where I have been. You know what I love, and who I miss. This is Me. Welcome to my story.
peace.