In Exile

I am in exile, a sojourner
A citizen of some other place
All I've seen is just a glimmer in a shadowy mirror
But I know, one day well see face to face

I am a nomad, a wanderer
I have nowhere to lay my head down
There's no point in putting roots too deep when I'm moving on
Not settling for this unsettling town

My heart is filled with songs of forever
The city that endures when all is made new
I know I don't belong here, I'll never
Call this place my home, I'm just passing through

I am a pilgrim, a voyager
I wont rest until my lips touch the shore
Of the land that I've been longing for as long as I've lived
Where they'll be no pain or tears anymore

My heart is filled with songs of forever
The city that endures when all is made new
I know I don't belong here, I'll never
Call this place my home, I'm just passing through

Public Service Announcement

you are not safe. it draws first blood at the malls and the stores, where it permeates the retailers. it crawls into your car and slaps you in the face, and you're too shocked to stop it.  it even sneaks into your home, first infecting one person, then relentlessly spreading through out your household until there is no use resisting.  you are not safe.  if it came any other month of the year, you'd laugh it off, maybe even indulge in it, just because you knew it was a single, isolated source.  but not now.  now it casts a shadow of something enormous on the horizon that can't be ignored any longer.   it slides in and inconspicuously nibbles your toes at night, and the next day it explodes in prevalence and bites off your arm (figuratively).  sure, pretty soon it'll be ok, everyone will be doing it, and then go ahead, immerse yourself in it.  the bad effects will be over, leaving only the joy it can bring. but until then, be on your toes.  if you are already infected, keep it to yourself; don't pass it on; we don't want it.  Yet.    the danger still lurks.  resist. 
you.
must.
resist.










christmas music in november

This is the only place I would ever consider quoting a Nickelback song, but only because it's cheesy and it fits the topic well

So two weeks? ago, a band with a couple Dordt guys and an alum played in the lobby of the new apartments/coffeeshop.  Dark am I, yet Lovely, they called themselves.  I guess its a little foggy at this point, but they played one of those many styles of music born in recent years which defies typical genre categorization.  A little bit of Brand New's darker sound, and little bit of rock and roll, all probably fitting somewhere in that indie realm of things.  Anyways, I really enjoyed them;  I thought they were something fresh.  Also, Dordt is absolutely devoid of bands.  So about anything would have sufficed for freshness, but these guys were actually good.  But seeing a band again stirred something in me.

I miss being in a band.  Don't get me wrong, if we had the chance to bring Here We Stand back, I would say no in a heartbeat.  We weren't very good and we weren't my style.  And we weren't very good.  But I miss having that creative outlet, that reason to write songs, the reason to dream.  I have little to no free time during college, so having room for practicing with a band is almost impossible.  On top of having no time for practice, I have little to no free time for writing words or music.  The idealist in me says that I should just have songs pouring out of me simply by living life, but the realist says that when I spend most hours of the day in class, doing homework, being in a few too many extracurriculars, and squeezing in a social life, I don't write songs.  I still think about it, but it doesn't come to me when I don't have time to sit down and plunk away at the guitar or do something with that line that's been running through my head all day.

The thing is, I still dream about being a "rock star", which, I assure you, is much different than the stereotypical image of  an 80's make-up wearing, perm-bearing headbanger.  This is the poor-guy-who-lives-in-a-less-than-civil apartment-with-4-of-his-friends-who-eat,-sleep,-and-breathe-music-simply-for-the-love-of-it kind of rock star.  How does that work for this logical-minded, play-it-as-safe-as-possible kid who would hardly sleep at night because he'd worry so much? I don't think it would.  Which saddens me (but not my bank account).  I don't really want to spend the rest of my life with my thoughts in the clouds about how awesome life would be if I could just make music instead of working a normal job.  But I also don't want to spend my life attempting to write song after song or giving up and getting a job I don't like instead of having a job I'm good at and enjoy.  Or maybe I'll just do both and stick it to the man.

my roommate said I needed to put pictures with my blogs

And yes, that is michael jordan in the background.  last name ever, first name greatest.

Just so everyone knows, I am not in charge of the room decor.  Especially not the gangsta ladder with a bandana.

crazocity

so i'm a little busy.

But you already knew that.

So there's this paper for Western Civ. about Augustine and his worldview and how Plato affected him.  I know it sounds like a pile of fun, but to be honest I haven't found out if it actually is yet.  Its due tomorrow and I've been putting it off because I've been trying to keep up in every other class, which means the 6 page paper gets saved for last when everything else is done.  In other words, today/tonight/todarrow(the part of night when it switches from today to tomorrow)/tomorrow will be fun.  Now I'm just delaying it more. I read through the excerpts and took notes and read about Augustine's life, so at least I have that done.  Now we've come to the part of the blog where I get over myself and start writing about what I actually was going to write about when I decided to write.  But now I can't remember.