A band to whom I've been loyal for the greater part of my life is taking a drastic and wild turn in musical direction.

Brandtson has a new album coming out, and three songs on available on their myspace.

I'm not sure what to think just yet.

(This was meant to be posted yesterday.)

The weekend got off to a good start when I acquired a new instrument for my collection. Yes, friends, be envious, because Nate Diehl gave me a one octave set of desk bells, key of C. We recently saw/heard these magical instruments put to use by the lovely ladies in Amina, and Nate found them in one of his educational instrument catalogs. There are optional chromatic expansion packs, so if I keep practicing, perhaps the set will grow. Needless to say, there will be a new timbre on the next hymn CD.

Friday night Erica and I saw Thank You For Smoking. I really enjoyed it. Unfortunately, though, I missed Tsotsi at the local independent theater. I’ll have to wait for the DVD release, I guess.

The weekend got even better on Saturday when I received a shipment of music from Jared and the Village Green. Why did it take me so long to give in to Richard Swift? His music is classic and enchanting. Along with his double LP, I got the Metal Hearts’ latest, which is good, though not as intoxicating as their live show. The Asmathic Kitty comp is enjoyable, and not nearly as annoying as I was afraid it might be. (And incidently, the Combovers and I recently played with Sam Rosen, who appears on the disc. [Sorry, just name-dropping in hopes of receiving some sort of validation.]) I’m listening to Jens Lekman now, an album I have waited much too long for, and I’m about to listen to the Appleseed Cast’s new album, which will hopefully make up for missing out on their Good Friday show, but will probably only make me even more upset.

(Now, don’t get the wrong idea, I paid good money for these CD’s. And you should support your local record store, too, even if by "local" you mean "your friend's which is located 10+ hours away.")

Speaking of missing shows, I missed Why? and Islands last night. I don’t really want to talk about it. I should move to Philly, because the hour and half trip, while not impossible, isn’t exactly convenient.

Saturday afternoon consisted of a rainy spring festival on the Southside. It was nothing special, but the art exhibit at Home and Planet was. The artist, Tres Taylor, incorporates a lot of scripture and spiritual themes in his work which was cool, but he takes the love theme to a new-agey-somewhat-creepy-or-at-least-uncomfortable level. Nevertheless, his work is very enjoyable.

Saturday night, Steve and I finally broke our long-time losing streak and beat our wives in a best-of-5 Sequence series, three to one. So we have earned bragging rights, at least until the next rematch.

Sunday morning was youth Sunday where the youth group was in charge of the service, and I got to pretend I was in youth group again by helping Wes with worship. I got to play percussion, which is quickly becoming my new favorite musical endeavor. The entire weekend I was really weird and giddy, and I blamed it on the percussion, and I'm pretty sure that was in fact the reason. I was especially excited because I reached a new milestone. You see, I always enjoy the shaker and tambourine combination (listen to pretty much every track on my hymn cd for evidence), and I always enjoy the djembe, but I always thought the only way to play both at the same time was to have two people. Well, I disproved my theory this weekend by finding a way to play all three at the same time: drum in front, egg shaker in the right hand, tambourine resting on the stomach, and beating away. It probably looked pretty ridiculous, but if I may say so myself, I’m pretty sure it sounded pretty dang good.

Mark preached, and I think it was a style of preaching our church needed. He wants to be Kimber Kauffman, who is his latest obession, Yoder.

Yesterday at my parent’s dinner table, my mother asked if I wanted any coffee. I passed, saying that I felt I had already exceeded my coffee quota for the weekend. Erica informed her that I had drank 7 cups on Saturday. For pure shock value, I added, “AND I smoked 2 packs of cigarettes!” My parents are pretty good at ignoring me by now. They just roll their eyes.

Then Dad led our Bible study last night. I asked him if he was really nervous, because I taught last week and it’s a tough act to follow. He said he didn’t even think about it, but I’m pretty sure he was lying. I think he was scared stiff.

I went back to school today, even though I really didn’t want to. The kids are pretty much done. There’s no getting them back. My diaphragm hurt by the end of the day.

And that’s not to say that us sweet little Christian (I’m using this word rather loosely) suburbianites don’t have a little heirarchy of our own set up, being the prideful little scumbags that we are. In all actuality, we’re all striving to be king and we all go to great lengths to acheive our status, but we suburbanites just have much more refined and “polite” ways of fighting. We are much more devious, creative, and/or underhanded. No, we don’t pull a knife on our friends, nor do we hire other friends to “take care” of those in our way, but rather, we put on our nice friendly masks all the while spending most of our time gossiping or lying or taking tiny little jabs that slowly chip away. We’re a bunch of fakers out to make ourselves look good, finding ways to make ourselves look just a little bit better than everyone else.

So, while the urban culture takes things to an ugly extreme that surprises people like me, I would be ignorant to say my culture doesn’t do the same things in less obvious but equally vicious ways.

i apologize for the fact that all of my blog posts are extremely long.

Remember that weird scene near the end of Mystic River where the husband and wife are in the bedroom? He, of course, along with some of his buddies, had just killed a longtime friend of the family without giving it much of a second thought. Instead of being bothered by recent events, he relaxes with his wife, who is probably bothered even less, and she encourages him, telling him that “He’s the king of this town” and nobody can take that from him, or something to that effect.

I always thought that scene was very odd and out of place. I thought it was poor writing and it detracted from the film.

I felt that way up until recently, when I discovered it is an incredibly accurate picture of urban culture.

Recently there’s been a lot of fights at school. We’re talking at least 2 or 3 a week, some ending up with kids in handcuffs. Some are simply a result of peer pressure (remember when teachers and adults made such a big deal about peer pressure and none of us really thought it existed?) or rumor mills; two mischevious boys start a rumor telling this girl that girl wants to fight her and telling that girl this girl wants to fight her and when they run into each other in the hallway after 7th period, they come out swinging.

There’s plenty of other reasons for the fights, but probably the most disturbing is that the parents encourage it. When you or I went to school, first of all, we didn’t WANT to fight. Second of all, if for some reason we did, our parents would give us a good talking to when we got home, which we all dreaded. But at my school, it’s completely opposite. Kids want to fight (or least say they do in order to look cool), and if they fight, their parents are angry if they don’t fight back, or if they lose their fight. THAT’S when kids dread going home to their parents: when they got beat up.

Kids sit in the principal’s office and get asked, “Why did you fight? How could you?” Then their parents pick them up and they get asked, “Why did you lose? Why didn’t you fight back? How could you?”

Several kids have said they fought because their parents have told them not to let anyone disrespect them, and so and so disrespected them, so they decided to beat them up.

(So what can we educators do? Is it really possible to break through these cultural mindsets and cause change?)

It’s a cutthroat, prideful, survivalistic mentality, where everyone wants to be “King of this town” and being king means being tough without ever letting down your guard.

Kids ask me what I was like in middle school, and one question that always gets asked is, “Did you fight?” “Nope.” “Never?” “Never.” And with that, eyes get wide because they simply can’t imagine growing up without fighting, and kids snicker and giggle and make fun of me, assuming that I never fought simply because I was too weak. (And let’s be honest, that WAS a major contributing factor.)

And then there was that boy who came in after school at the beginning of the year, the one I’ve mentioned before who always asks good questions. He asked, “Mister, when you were in middle school, did you fight?” I said no and he was perplexed. I encouraged him to steer clear of the wrong groups of friends and fighting. “But what about when kids make fun me or pick on me? What can I do?”

I didn’t realize how radical my advice was in my first few months of teaching, but I encouraged him to “always be nice to people.” Even if they were really mean, even if they made fun of him, even if they picked on him, just be nice back to them. If they ask for a pencil, give them one. If they need help on a math problem, give them help. I told him to imagine what the school would be like if EVERYONE was nice to everyone.

Is it possible? It isn’t easy. Because if you are nice to someone who is disrespecting you, you’re giving up your spot as “king of the town.”

And this is where we see in real life how upside-down the kingdom of heaven is. This is where Aaron Weiss starts singing, “We have every intention to be failures in this world.”

I don’t know if that boy has followed my advice, but I do know he’s getting A’s and hasn’t been in a fight all year. And I also know he’s going home to parents who are encouraging him to ignore his classmates and work hard and avoid fights.

When I watched Mystic River, I was a sweet little suburbian Christian boy who could not possibly comprehend killing a childhood friend, for any reason, and especially not without thinking twice. But now I realize that the screenwriter knew a thing or two about the city; he knew that guys do in fact hire their friends to “take care of” people they don’t like, people who are threating their position as king of the town. Staying tough is one of the most important parts of their culture. And sadly, it seems like one of the hardest parts to break through.

I forgot to mention the other exciting thing that happened over the break. Erica got all of her hair cut off! She looks gorgeous! Now she wakes up with bedhead and it's really really cute!

For all of you writers and journalers out there, be sure to check out www.exlibrisanonymous.com. I just received my first purchase from them (a gift for a friend) and it's pretty much the coolest thing I've ever seen. Jared, you should look into selling their journals in your shop.

It's been a good break. The weather's been beautiful and we've packed a considerable amount into the past 4 days. And any break where I am able to completely forget about my job, any break where it seems like ages ago that I was teaching kids, is a good one indeed.

I did have a short nightmare during my morning nap yesterday that involved a firedrill and a particular class of mine. It was chaos, and the worst part was that I was yelling, in kids' faces even, as loud as I possibly could, but nothing was coming out; they were completely oblivious and couldn't hear me at all. It was terrible.

This was going to be a break filled with shows: Rosie Thomas on Thursday night, Appleseed Cast/Aloha/Victory at Sea on Friday night, and a choice between Half-Handed Cloud or Regina Spektor on Saturday night.

Let me explain. It seems as though EVERY year there is a concert I want to go to on Good Friday. And EVERY year I deliberate: should I go to the show or to the Good Friday service? And EVERY year I feel obligated and go to the Good Friday service. And EVERY year I sit through the service and wonder, "Why did I get suckered into this yet again?" I can't remember all the amazing shows I've missed through the years, although I do remember passing up the Postal Service before they had hit it big. Now this year I was set on going to the show: I've been waiting to see Appleseed Cast for nearly 5 years, and Aloha would be amazing as well, and I loved Victory at Sea when they played at Taylor. How could I pass this one up?

Well, I got recruited to play bass for worship, and between my brother-in-laws (Mark and Wes) and my wife (Erica), I was somehow convinced to give up the show (sorry, Jamin.) Not only that, but we practiced Thursday night, so we missed Rosie, too.

(I'm not trying to pass the blame onto Mark and Wes and Erica, because they really didnt have much to do with my decision and it WAS left up to me. And I have already done a considerable amount of complaining about this whole ordeal, and I promise this will be the last of it.)

That left Saturday night, and we chose to see Half Handed Cloud and Vollmar. Lenny Smith played, too. Looking back, I'm not sure why we chose this one over Ms. Spektor, but oh well.

I will make my comments brief. Lenny Smith is the proud father of the Danielson Famile. He played songs that he has written over the past 30 - 40 years and they were beautiful and rocking and fun. He was a loveable man who made everyone laugh. And while I'm daily trying to convince Erica that parenthood should be delayed as long as possible, this man made me want to be a father, at least one who is 30 years removed. He talked a lot about marriage, too, saying that for him it's been "35 years of marital bliss with a few short interspersed periods of hell." He said he highly recommends it, although he knows "it's fallen out of vogue. But it's gonna make a comeback. It will."

Vollmar and HHC weren't as charming as they were at Taylor last year, but they were enjoyable nonetheless. Let me say this: those of you who have always wanted to like HHC but couldn't bring yourself to do so completely, be sure to check out his new and by-far-best album Halos and Lassos. Everything you liked is still there and polished, and everything you weren't sure about is improved or fixed or done away with. It's seamless and cohesive and very very enjoyable.

Whatever the case, a Half Handed Cloud show is a constant smile.

The break also included a Jim Dandy from Friendly's, and a meal at the Midway Diner with Jamin. We finally finished the first season of Arrested Development, too. All sorts of exciting things happened!

Now today I have to buckle down and get quite a few things done for work. I'm behind, that's for sure. So why am I wasting my time on this thing?

I hope your Easter was splendid and I hope you're enjoying springtime. It's a wonderful time to visit! Come on over!

In Mark chapter 2, some guys pushed through crowds of people in order to get their paralyzed friend close to the house where Jesus was hanging out. When they realized there was no other way to get inside, the took him up on the roof, tore it apart, and lowered him down right in front of Jesus. First, he forgave the man's sins. Then, in order to prove that he had the authority to heal someone spiritually, he healed his paralysis as well.

In the earlier chapter, Jesus told his disciples that he had come in order to preach. This was his focus. Then, when he forgives the paralytic's sins before anything else, we again see that spiritual healing is more important than physical healing. That is fairly obvious. What good is it to heal someone physically and not spiritually? Spiritual healing was Christ's priority.

So, which is a more important miracle? The spiritual healing. But, which is a greater miracle?

"We had become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity. We were full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. We were gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; we invented ways of doing evil; we disobeyed our parents; we were senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although we knew God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, we not only continued to do those very things but also approve of those who practiced them."

"It wasn't so long ago that you were mired in that old stagnant life of sin. You let the world, which doesn't know the first thing about living, tell you how to live. You filled your lungs with polluted unbelief, and then exhaled disobedience. We all did it, all of us doing what we felt like doing, when we felt like doing it, all of us in the same boat. It's a wonder God didn't lose his temper and do away with the whole lot of us. Instead, immense in mercy and with an incredible love, he embraced us. He took our sin-dead lives and made us alive in Christ. He did all this on his own, with no help from us! Then he picked us up and set us down in highest heaven in company with Jesus, our Messiah."

God not only forgives us for the messes that we are, he also slowly-but-surely-and-by-his-grace changes us and molds us and sanctifies us. Do we realize that this is a much greater miracle than any physical healing? Do we appreciate it? Do we remember it?

Yesterday we had a field trip across the street and I wore a sweater instead of a coat. One boy told me I looked like I was ready for an Old Navy commercial. While this would typically be a compliment (I think), he made it clear that it was meant to be an insult. The ironic thing was he was wearing a sweat shirt that said OLD NAVY in large letters. Another boy called it a grandma sweater.

Then finally, another boy decided to stick up for me. In front of all the other boys he said, “Mister, that sweater is tight. Seriously, it’s a tight sweater, mister.” “Well, thank you,” I said, feeling much better about myself at that point. (For those of you who are not hip to the urban slang, “tight” is a synonym for “hot” or “bangin” or “mad hot” or “mad bangin” or “off da hook” or “mad off da hook.” [I made that last one up.])

But today, the sweater came up again, and the last boy made it clear that he was using the word “tight” in its most common form, meaning it didn’t fit, and he was in fact making fun of me in a very underhanded way with a clever play on words. I would even go as far as saying it was brilliant, but I know how this kid does in math class and I can't give him that much credit.

Today, with it being casual Friday, I wore jeans and one of those collared cotton casual shirts. All day I received terrible reactions towards my shirt, with kids saying it didn’t fit and it was too small and it looked gross and whathaveyou. I finally realized that when you have your shirt tucked in, they can’t say much. But if you have your shirt untucked, as I did today, they think it looks absolutely ridiculous when it doesn’t hang down to your knees and the sleeves don’t hang down to your wrists.

My self-esteem is plummeting.

In other news, the new Sufjan album has been announced. Prepare for a July listening party.

I think I had a dream the other night about receiving a nose hair trimmer as a gift for something or other. It was exciting. It would be for a Shorb.

Erica, who doesn't get to read my blog regularly, asked if I had written about the boy we saw on our walk. I told her yes, and she asked if I made it funny.

I did my best, but allow me to reiterate how funny it was.

Picture Macaulay Culkin from My Girl, sitting on his front lawn, reading a book, and listening to hip-hop on a boom box that is sitting on his lap under his book.

Trust us, it was funny.

"I don't want to be in a job that turns me into this. This isn't me."

I said this a few days ago and I've been sharing it in conversation with a few people here and there. I've been saying that I'm generally a patient person, but not in this job. I've been saying that I'm generally a compassionate person, but not in this job.

Tonight I was sharing it with someone and as it came out my mouth, the error in my thinking occurred to me. The wise man with whom I was speaking was quick to point it out as well:

Really, it's just the opposite. I'm not a patient person. I'm not a compassionate person. But this job is and will be extending and shaping and refining and developing my patience and compassion.

What a tough, grueling, sobering reality.

Like a dead tree that's dry and leaving
Look at what the light did now
Play it on me with grief and grieving
Look at what the light did now
I would finally fall to pieces
Look at what the light did now
We'll meet soon as nephew's nieces
Look at what the light did now.

Be still, my soul! The hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul! When change and tears are past
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.