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My Post-Child Life Crisis

Sometimes life really sucks and you want to scream and tell everyone about how much it sucks. Like say, for instance, a blog about how cold its been lately. But then it warms up to 40 degrees and the sun shines and you think, “Whoa, I really blew a gasket back there. What happened?”

Yes, it’s been a tough winter for me and my wife. We moved across the country (from California coastland, no less) to upstate New York. We don’t know anybody, it’s cold, and I’m so busy with school that I can’t pee without compromising study time.

Lately, the loss of time has put me in a funk. Admittedly, I’m a creature of habit. I like coffee in the morning. I also like to do nothing in the morning. If I can swing it, I’ll read my Bible and center myself and pray and ask God to forgive my binge watching of Dexter. (more…)

Becoming a Playwright, Old Moldwarp

Good news, friends! My play, “Famous Writer is Hell” was selected and will be performed at the 16th Annual Rochester One-Act Festival. Woot! The play is about, as you can imagine, famous writers in hell. For their eternal punishment, Hemingway, Shakespeare, and Plato are forced to listen to undergrads misinterpret their great works. Insanity ensues.

“Famous Writers” was technically my first complete play. I thought the idea was pretty good, so I ran with it. I used every resource I had to refine the play, and in the end, my characters will come to life on stage. Pretty neat.

This achievement is especially gratifying considering that, last year, after my first playwright class, I came home terrified, insecure, and intimidated. The level of writing ability my classmates exhibited was well beyond my own. To quote myself, “Crap. I have some work to do.”

But if I’ve learned anything since moving to Rochester (other than how to keep the Polar Vortex from freezing your face off), it’s that good things happen when creative people surround themselves with other creative and more talented people.

Challenges emerge. Feedback fosters. Inspiration happens.

There’s a stigma of loneliness attached to writing: a lonely dark road, a closet with desk, just sit down and give yourself to the loneliness. Give me a break. Writing doesn’t need to be that way! Creative communities, I think, should be emphasized more in writing curriculums. These last few months, the workshopping and feedback processes have been just as key as the actual writing and editing part.

SIDE NOTE: All this said, I usually only write when I’m by myself. Writing, however, should never act as an excuse for loneliness, but as a motivator to experience life. (more…)

Saturday Skit: Roll With It

“Smell it,” he says.

“I don’t want to smell it.” Davey lifts up the plate and pushes it towards my face. I jerk my head back, saving my nose from shame.

“Piss, right?”

“It does not smell like piss.”

“My sushi is drenched in piss, here—“ he lifts the plate higher. “Brian, I’m telling you, my rainbow roll is absolutely radiating of piss.” We stare at each other, and Davey doesn’t budge: “Smell it!”

“Get your sushi out of my face.” One by one, surrounding tables pick up our conversation and begin eating their edamame like popcorn. One skinny Japanese waitress—the one who isn’t fooling anyone with that accent—she walks by and finds us arguing.

“Ever-ting arright?” She twirls her pointer in a curl. Her name tag says Sarah.

“Fine, thanks.”

“It’s not fine,” Davey fires. “Ma’m, my rainbow roll… it…”

“Uh-huuh”

“It smells like pee.” The quick sound of a half-popped edamame shell plopping into a bowl of soy sauce is heard. Even the fish have stopped swimming. (more…)

What We Ask About Worship

One of my favorite features of the WordPress statistics page (web hits & clicks, etc.) is the “Search Engine Terms.” This means that if you Google a phrase that leads you to my blog, I’m told what the phrase is. For instance, I once wrote a blog about getting my butt stuck in the passenger seat of my car due to a bubble gum accident. Now, I’m privy to a good amount (more than you would think) of butt-gum internet searches: butt stuck in window, butt in gum, left butt stuck, my butt is stuck, and so forth.

By far, the most common search terms that bring people to my blog have to deal with worship. Last year, I was Freshly Pressed due to my blog Confessions of a Former Worship Leader. In short, my thesis was twofold: the church encourages musicianship without calling it music, or concerts, fostering a milieu of anxiety ridden (red-headed, guitar playing) church musicians; and the church, or us, has gone overboard, or obsessed, in presenting a program-over-people approach of worship.

I don’t mean to revisit the post fully; I have no intention of that. Personally, I’m very much beyond it (admittedly, because, I don’t attend Sunday service anymore). However, since the worship blog brings droves of readers to my site—with a bevy of search terms along with it—it seems wise to share what I have learned from the people who frequent my site. (more…)

Saturday Short: Training Day

The following is flash fiction. Check out my other Saturday Shorts here.

Training Day

Fresh air and midday sun (through glass) taunted lungs, and the mothers and fathers, settled and unsettled; the heavy eye balls; the sleepers in the stalls—all of us—sorted and slightly rocking. Our shoes and briefcases brimmed the aisles, and our mouths coughed. Blind but secure, the train rattled, and what could we do but wait. Care for a cup of tea? Anything. Just bring me anything.

Outside the corn was dead and dry. A man sat in the window seat and was careless to view any of it (us, sanctioned together by wretched fate), staring at his shoes, considering maybe, the asphalt that marked them. “You look familiar” I finally admitted as a gesture.

The musician began. He, like all else, assumed his story was worth telling, and he spoke, and I thought about the birds: free, hungry, singing, and why fly next to trains?

“—not as easy as you think, you know.” Around my age but much richer, he hated his life as much as I hated mine. I bought a few of his records, a decade ago, and once I shook his hand in a parking lot before a gig. He was an asshole.

“Why not quit?” I keep him busy, like a four-year old with a new toy. And I wonder off: free, hungry, singing.

“There’s no career fair for me. No running away. Like a monkey I’m expected…”

If listening is a skill, we must all get it wrong. The man spoke, and I couldn’t care, and when I spoke he didn’t care. Where you out of? he’d say, shortly shifting his attention a couple rows down to a partially unbuttoned blouse on an attendant who bent forward for a piece of trash. (more…)

Five Life-Lessons the Polar Vortex Taught Me

Rochester has been cold. Very cold. The East, it would seem, was sprayed by Mr. Freeze’s Ice Gun. You’ve probably heard about it or have experienced the frigidness yourself. It’s my first East Coast winter and, well, it’s living up to its reputation.

A coworker mentioned (and you never know how true these things are) that, right now, ten minutes of exposed skin will earn you frost bite. I’m not sure what frost bite is, but it sounds delicious. They don’t sell those in California.

Here’s five life-lessons I’ve learned from living through the Polar Vortex, or as I like to call it, “The Unholy Coldy”

1. Cuss Creatively: If caught outside, unique cussing patterns can keep your brain functioning and from freezing over. Some of my favorites from the other day include, Butt-Face-Twinkie-Stealer!; Alabama-Harp-Farter!; and Mr. Bojangles, the Asshole.

2. Park Near the Entrance: I usually park far away; it saves time and I don’t mind walking. However, the other night I parked on the far end of the grocery store’s lot. By the time I reached the store, I had to borrow an ice scraper for all the frozen tear drops on my face.

(more…)