Craigslist Ads: Musicians

Went on to Craigslist just out of curiosity as to what ads they might have directed toward musicians. At the very least I thought it might be funny. Unfortunately, it was more depressing than anything. The “Gold Country” region had almost nothing, just a few rock and country acts looking for vocalists or drummers. One punk band. Pretty dead.

Sacramento was full of ads, but most were uninspiring or just insipid. Most were for cover bands or metal bands…sometimes the same thing. Several were for very, very mainstream “indie/punk” styles. You know, we call it a screamo band but it’s been carefully cultivated from the beginning by a record label type stuff. Nobody out there is really trying to do anything interesting, and the only serious people were the blues/R&B guys.

The worst was all the “punk” musicians demanding that any respondents be under 28. I totally get it, but isn’t it sad that the only genre that seems to care about looks and age is…punk?

Oh, the irony.

My Problem…

…is this guy:



Technically, that one circle that reads, “History,” stands for the set of skills one learns as a history major.  So it’s not so much about history as it is research, critical thinking, and writing.  Music is another thing entirely, as is visual art.  The idea is, here are my gifts, so what the heck am I supposed to do with that?

Ants Taste Like Windex

This is a weird post.

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but when you kill ants they emit an odor reminiscent of Windex.

Seriously.

This morning I made myself some oatmeal for breakfast.  We had previously put the brown sugar in the refrigerator because ants were wandering around looking for food, and we didn’t want them to discover it.  We went around killing the ants and trying to make sure any temptingly sweet items were out of their scouts’ reach.  One bit me, and as I brushed it aside, I smelled, very distinctly, Windex – which was not what we had been using to kill them.  A bit of experimenting proved that, indeed, they gave off a whiff (isn’t that a great word) of Windex upon dying.

So anyway, as I made my oatmeal, I pulled out the brown sugar.  It got rock hard in the refrigerator, so I had to use a spoon to break it up, dumping clumps into the oatmeal.  It seemed fine.  But as I ate, I detected…yes, right there…is that…?  A definite after-taste of Windex.

Apparently the ants had already discovered the brown sugar before I refrigerated them along with it.  And ultimately found their way into my breakfast.

Ugh.

I think I might start writing again.

I know, I’ve said it before.

But I think I need to write to figure out a lot of stuff.
Stuff that needs figuring out.
So I think I might start writing again.




…at least until I get my stuff figured out.

Typical Day

A typical day (for me) in the U.S.

7:00am – Wake up, take a shower for as long as I want, brush my teeth under running water, get dressed (so many clothes I don’t know what to wear). Grab a bagel and cream cheese, or heat up some oatmeal. Pet the cat. Kiss the wife goodbye, grab my keys, and head out.
8:00am - Work my job that pays $11.00 an hour. I sit behind a computer most of the day. I get a half hour lunch and two ten minute breaks. During the first break, I get a mocha from the huge coffee shop with free Wi-Fi and lots of comfortable chairs. I’m annoyed at the line, though. I only have ten minutes.
12:30pm - I’m tired of the 20 food places that are within walking distance. I’d go home, but I don’t want leftovers for lunch. I haven’t been to the sandwich place in a bit, so I drive half a mile to Togo’s.
4:00pm - I’m off and want to go home. It’s hard sitting all day typing. I want a nap. Driving home is annoying. Everyone is on the road at once, and they’re all terrible drivers. Someone in a huge SUV cuts me off at least once a day. And don’t even get me started on the stoplights – feels like I hit every one on the way home. As I drive into downtown, I look out for Auburn cops: I don’t feel like they are here to protect me, but more to make money off of ticketing people who live downtown.
6:00pm - Which guitar do I want to play? I have three of them. The wife just pulled up in her car. Maybe we’ll watch a DVD while we eat dinner (or go out for pizza?). She comes in and asks about my day, I complain about traffic and wish that we lived in a city where cars are unnecessary.
9:00pm - After watching a movie we argue for a bit about the Playstation games I rarely play but can’t seem to let go of. We make up and get ready for bed. She’s reading in bed; I look at the hundred or so books on our four bookshelves and can’t decide on one of the books I bought but never started. Instead I grab my iPhone and check what everyone is up to on Facebook. In an hour, the wife falls asleep and after some time, I turn off the light and follow suit. Man this bed is comfortable.

A typical day (for me) in El Florido, Mexico:

Unknown Time - Woken up by birds chirping and dogs barking. To be fair, it’s not as bad as when all the dogs of Tijuana start barking together at 3:00am… I’m going to try to sleep in a little. Man this bunk is uncomfortable.
Unknown Time - I’m up. Turns out it’s 6:45am and breakfast is already waiting (we have some over-achievers who were up early). Thank God because I am so not a morning person. Someone even brewed coffee, God bless them. Quick bathroom/shower (from the sink) and time to get lunch ready. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get an actual shower in – if there aren’t too many others with the same plan. Daily note to self: No toilet paper in the toilet, and don’t forget to brush your teeth with bottled water.
8:00am - Morning meeting and thought-of-the-day. Last minute preparations for the workday ahead.
8:30am - In a rented van with ten other people driving on dirt streets that would cause some back home to stop and activate their four wheel drive. Our driver hits some of the ruts and bumps on purpose (to my great approval and amusement).
9:00am - Playing games with local children who have to pretend that two rocks are race cars, because they don’t have the money for the toys that are made five miles away at the Mattel factory. I twist sisal twine into a jump-rope for a little girl. I think of my wife, who would love to meet all these kids.
10:00am - After opening prayer, I lead the kids in a worship song…in Spanish. Luckily my guitar playing is more universal.
11:00am - Videotaping a soccer game on the uneven dirt road (which is on a hill, and right next to a very defensive dog separated from us by a dilapidated fence), I am “accosted” by a little boy who runs around me in circles, grabbing my arms and embracing me. It’s impossible to distance oneself from the humanity here, even behind a camera lens. He has a sore under his eye, and the biggest smile I think I’ve ever seen. I show him the videotape of him running around me, and he wants to take photos of us Americans. He won’t stop taking pictures. If he had a camera of his own, he’d probably be an amazing photographer.
12:00pm - We bring out sandwiches that we made for the sixty kids that showed up. Some take a bite, then put the rest in their pockets for later. They are hungry after all their play, but are saving the sandwiches for later. That kills me. I’m starting to feel like Holden Caulfield, and my only desire is to catch these kids as they run through the…I don’t know. There’s no rye fields here.
1:00pm - Heading to a build site for a house we are building for a family here. I’m going to this particular one because there is less smoke here. It’s not just the trash fires that have my throat irritated, it’s also the fire they are using at the other site to break up a boulder. I tell Marta about my throat and the rock-breaking-fire, and she nods knowingly and says that on this site they used dynamite instead.
2:00pm - Sawing boards for the roofing. Makes me nervous because I don’t want to be responsible for running out of the already very little material we have available for these houses. Each house is twelve feet square. It’s tiny. Yet the family treats it like a dream come true. I don’t want to just catch the children now, but all the people here.
3:00pm - I talk to Fidel, who says one day he hopes to own a car. I sheepishly tell him my wife (whom I miss terribly) and I have two Hyundais. He’s amazed. He tells me he’ll take one of of my hands. It’s tempting, to be honest.
4:00pm - As we leave the build site, I look around: there are no less than six columns of smoke, mostly from burning trash. I look at the ground next to me: there are no less than six varieties of beautiful, colorful flowers in full springtime bloom.
5:00pm - I’m exhausted. But rather than crawl into the bunk for a nap, I hang out with my fellow pilgrims who are working on crafts, studying, or playing guitar. Devin shows me how to make a friendship bracelet and Adam and I play guitar together.
6:00pm - The ladies of the church serve us dinner. It’s delicious. It’s beyond delicious. I think that’s because of who is making it. It’s indescribable how that makes this meal heavenly…it just is, especially since it must be very expensive to feed forty two people, most of them teens.
7:00pm - During a question and answer session, the community tells us that what they really need is a school. The only future for the families here that we are growing to love is for their children to be educated. I hand shoots up, and someone says, “Well, obviously this is a no-brainer. We need to come back and build a school.” I think about that. But it’s obvious. It is a no-brainer, in many ways.
8:00pm - Six of us (our “family group”) meet to debrief the day. It’s amazing how smart, aware and compassionate all the students are. They give of themselves without thinking, and don’t even realize how exceptional that is in most cases.
9:00pm - Though I am nearing my limit, we all get back together to talk about the day, tomorrow, and to share affirmations of each other. The affirmations go on for what seems like forever – we can’t stop ourselves from talking about the amazing things we’ve seen each other do and be today. This is the same every night. There isn’t a group I could possibly be prouder of. During the evening worship, Joel discusses what resurrection really looks like; what church really looks like, what justice and restoration really look like, and challenges us – no matter our feelings on faith – to live out resurrection and church and justice and restoration in a very real way. It’s stunning in a way that leaves me completely at a loss for how to respond, both despondent and hopeful simultaneously.
10:30pm - I’m done. I’m so completely drained. Yet I still can’t bring myself to be the first one to bed. I stay up and talk to those who remain awake. I don’t want to leave this group behind, either in sleep or at the end of this week. Even more so for the people who have become friends and (in many cases) family over the last few days. It’s a dichotomy because I miss my wife, but what I really wish is that she would come here, rather than me going home.

Time for bed (Man this bunk is uncomfortable).

Note: None of this writing in any way does this experience justice. Some of this is several days of events mixed together to create a generalization, this is on purpose. But I guarantee that it’s authentic. It’s easy to dismiss all of this as a “Church Mission Trip,” or “Christian Talk,” or even “Bleeding Heart Liberalism,” but each and every one of us has been changed by this week. I know for myself, things will never be the same. It’s not about religion or politics, it’s about sharing life with others, and embracing others openly in a way that is honest and self-sacrificing. I want more of that.

The First Step Is Admitting You Have a Problem

Lately I have been riding to work on my bike. It’s not far to work anymore; I could walk, but biking is healthier and faster. Driving is stupid when I’m this close. My wife, unfortunately, has to drive down the hill for forty-five minutes to school and back plus work as far as Natomas, most days out of the week. It puts a lot of miles on her car, gas is expensive, and there’s always the worry of an accident. Comparatively speaking, she has a normal commute as far as Americans go; I’m the abnormality. But it’s got me thinking a lot about the culture of the automobile in this country (or even world-wide), and though I know I’m not breaking any sort of a trail here, I think we have a serious problem.

It’s not simply that we are using more petroleum than the rest of the world (though that is part of it), or that we drive monstrously inefficient cars as status symbols (though that is also part of it, because – honestly – most people who own SUVs never take them into four wheel driving conditions), and it’s not even that we now live and work in a landscape that requires the use of a car to get around (though public transportation and buying, working, and generally choosing to walk or bike when your trip is shorter than necessary for a car would greatly help the situation). It’s our entire attitude about motor vehicles, or more accurately, our attitude about ourselves and our neighbors when we are drivers of motor vehicles.

When I was a kid, like maybe six years old, I watched the following Disney cartoon on television. Now I’m pretty critical of Disney in general, but they hit the nail squarely on the head and drove it in with one swing on this one. The cartoon is called, “Motor Mania,” and stars Goofy as Mr. Walker, a considerate, intelligent, conscientious modern individual who undergoes a “Jekyll and Hyde” transformation into…well, watch for yourself.

I think my favorite part is the “stamping” of pedestrians run down on the side of the car (which make me think of your sticker, person I will not name but who will recognize himself, haha).

So here’s the thing: I said I watched this when I was six or so, which was in 1985. I think that most people would agree that this cold have been released today (perhaps updated in style a pinch) and it would perfectly portray the attitude and mentality of drivers. Sometimes, after speeding or going through a yellow light I probably should have stopped for, or pushing my way into a generally aggressive driving situation, or generally disrespecting other motorists or pedestrians, will ask myself what the heck is wrong with me? That’s not who I am in general. And I’m a pretty good driver. But there is definitely something about driving that makes us think we are the most important person on that road, that everyone should speed up or get out of our way; that makes us so angry that anyone dares to question our mastery and ownership of the road. It’s also easy to ask why we have come to this, since surely this is a representation of recent narcissistic trends in this country in general, right?

Well, this cartoon was released in 1950. What that means is that we have a huge problem, and we’ve had it for a very, very long time. If it was apparent enough in 1950 that even Disney couldn’t help but nail it, then we need to really start questioning our attitudes towards motor vehicles. Our problem is that, when we sit behind the wheel of a car, we selfishly and dangerously put ourselves and our vehicle over the safety and happiness of every other person we encounter on the road. It’s precisely this attitude of “I’m the most important, best driver on the road, and I can do whatever I want, but don’t dare try to do what I do” that has led to gas prices of over $4 per gallon, more cars on the road than at any time in history (often driving less than three miles), choosing vehicles that are more likely to kill others in an accident (but thank God I’ll be safe in my tank-a-like), and high statistics of accidents, pedestrians and cyclists hit, and even DUI’s (“I know it’s wrong, but I’ll be okay because I’m different/better).

When Mr. Wheeler comes to the red light, he is in agony over the thirty seconds of his life he will never get back. I’ve seen people furious at having to stop for pedestrians.

I’ve seen people, just like Mr. Wheeler, feel such an urgency to be the car in front that they will endanger themselves and others, only to slow down to a leisurely pace once there.

Yesterday I watched as a young man ran a stop sign while making eye contact with me as I was about to pull out onto the main street. He smiled at me as he passed, and it wasn’t a friendly smile.

Cars aren’t going away, – no matter how high gas prices get – and I don’t want them to. I’m really not a car hater. I drive one, and Gran Tourismo is one of my favorite games. I love cars. But I think we, as Americans, Humans, whatever, have to admit that we have a cultural problem with our attitude towards motor vehicles. It’s a problem that is causing damage to our environment, to public health and safety, and to our own values. We have a problem, and admitting it is the first step towards a cure.

Another Quake Hits Japan

Another quake has rocked Japan, this one at least a 7.1 magnitude. See this NPR article for more. Fortunately, Tsunami warnings were canceled early, meaning that there is little worry there. And the Fukushima nuclear plant seems to be fine (well, as much as it can be in its crippled state).  An hour earlier, Mexico experienced a 6.5 magnitude quake that did little to no damage that I’ve heard about.

Please keep praying for Japan or keeping them in your thoughts, as well as Haiti.

Earthquake Damage in Japan, a Monk Prays For the Dead