Recently, I've felt an imposter whenever I enter the church. I've stayed away for a few weeks, to much the chagrin of my children. Today, though, I took them to Sunday School and grabbed a few quiet moments to myself while they learned about God.

I admit I don't really know what goes on in their Sunday School class, but I trust it to be the typical God and Jesus talk that I was taught as a young child. I got a glimpse, though, as to some of the theology my children are learning.

As I began our car ride home, I searched for a good song on the radio. I settled for one of the newer songs by Pink. Right away, my middle daughter stopped mid-sentence in her conversation with her twin brother, and belted out the lyrics to "Who Knew." When I looked at her in my rear view mirror, she caught my eye and gave me a bashful grin as she sang. But she continued to sing with such conviction.

When her brother tried to continue his conversation with her, Dawn stopped singing for just a moment to explain, "No, Andrew. We'll talk later. I'm singing to make Jesus happy."

To make Jesus happy ...Really? "Who Knew"?
Unknown "kinners" Serene - 16 years, 7 months, 23 days ago

The sun is shining today, and I think it will share its rays with us the whole day. This lifts my spirits immensely. Over breakfast this morning, I contemplated whether I should live in a sunnier place year-round. SAD is definitely a part of my life, as much as I'd like to live in denial. But here's the kicker: the sun will kill me. I am a cancer-survivor. I've had melanoma. After three surgeries, I am cancer-free. But I have yet to leave the dermatologist's office slice-free. So the one earthly element that my mental state craves the most will end up killing me if I don't harbor indoors.

Ah, but then I had to laugh. Prevention magazine started an unsolicited subscription with me. Two magazines arrived before the collection agency billing arrived. *eye roll* Once that mess was cleared up, I finally took the plastic wrap off the mags. I very clearly remember why I detest that magazine.

Prevention magazine would certainly cause a hypochondriac to enter a state of intense anxiety and slip right over the edge. As I flipped through the pages, I just had to laugh ... every story is about how to avoid, control and deal with our bodies and environment. I read a story about computer printers, specifically ink jet and laser printers, that cause more carcinogens in a smoke-free office than a cigarette smoke-filled room. Then there was the story about psoriasis and the radical diets to try and control outbreaks (2 oz of meat every other day, tons of vegetables and fruits, etc.). And let's not leave out the article about stress causing periodontal disease.

I just can't look at it anymore ... I don't think about these potential problems. I'd drive myself mad if I had to consider the health risks to everything. As comforting as it might be to enclose myself in a plastic enviro-proof bubble, it wouldn't block out the sun. So I will continue to live "dangerously" and just slather myself in sunscreen like an albino living near the equator. And I'll just leave to chance dying from lung disease caused by my ink jet printer which sits just a foot above me at my desk.
Unknown "kinners" Serene - 16 years, 7 months, 27 days ago

April 1 ...

I haven't felt very funny or whimsical in too many days. But I've been reading some Lewis Black and watching the latest George Carlin HBO special. Comedians such as these are a special breed. Perhaps I enjoy them so much because my own sense of humor is derived from the cynical side of life. Self-deprecation is a specialty. Scrutiny of life, what I dub being a "realist," seems to come somewhat naturally. But these men have spent years crafting the words to resonant with anyone who lends an ear.

An excerpt from Lewis Black's book Nothing's Sacred ....

I have traveled extensively across this country and, lately, around the world, and I have made an extraordinary discovery. A discovery about something that philosophers and the great thinkers of this or any other time have been pondering for centuries. Most of them have come to the same conclusion. They have looked to the heavens and believed that the universe, as we know it, ends somewhere out there in space.

Well, I am here to tell you, they were all mistaken. I have seen the end of the universe and it's right here on Earth. Right here in this country, as a matter of fact. Right in Houston, Texas, to be exact.

It was a shocking epiphany. I left a comedy club one day and walked to the end of the block, and there, on one corner, was a Starbucks. A rather common sight, to be sure. But across the street in an office building that was a mirror image of the structure holding the Starbucks ... stood another Starbucks.

At first I looked back and forth, convinced the sun was playing tricks on my eyes. I thought, let me look at this Starbucks, and when I turn around, there couldn't possibly be a Starbucks behind me. After all, I reasoned, if there was a just and loving God, he certainly wouldn't allow this shit to happen. So I turned slowly, convincing myself that when I opened my eyes, I would see a Denny's or a Gap or even a Mobil station.

But I didn't. It was indeed true. I was looking at a Starbucks across the street from a Starbucks. Things went fuzzy for a moment, but when my head cleared, it felt as if God had reached down and bestowed upon me all the knowledge ever gathered since the beginning of time. I was indeed looking at the much-sought-after end of the universe.
Since then I have been roaming the countryside spreading the word. But still people persist in asking, "Lewis, tell us, how do you know?" And I tell them, "Go there. Stand between those two Starbucks and look at your watch. Time will actually stand still." And then they go. And they know.

Since my discovery, I have witnessed things that have no explanation other than that the end is closer than we think. An idiot has been reelected to the highest office in the land, and the Boston Red Sox have won the World Series. The latter, especially, was truly pivotal, and the world will never be the same again. I may be crazy, but I believe it's as biblical a moment as we could have.

However, there are still those who continue to doubt. Much like the controversy that continues to swirl around the Kennedy assassination, the questions linger. Chief among them is this one: "Lewis, are there perhaps too many Starbucks franchises?"

The answer, sadly, is self-evident. Yes. When a man stands in a Starbucks, steaming cup of coffee in hand, looking out the window at an empty storefront across the street and declares, "Honey, we're mortgaging the house, for I see a future filled with delicious and overpriced mochaccino," that's it. Game fucking over.

That is definitely the end. And it is written here.
Unknown "kinners" Serene - 16 years, 7 months, 28 days ago

I think I'm twittering ... or maybe it's just the coffee ... but I am just a short time away from having a whole new set of chord charts for some music that I am absolutely in love with.

Over the past 3 weeks, I've made it a personal goal to set aside time to play guitar, and more importantly to build the calluses necessary for pure strumming on my 12-string. (Blisters under new calluses are quite painful.)

Of all the instruments I play, the guitar is the only one I taught myself. Formal instruction on classical I found boring, but I can do it. Semi-formal instruction on rhythm I found frustrating ... I could play better rhythm off the cuff than my instructor. So I'm back to my own methods of improving. Unlike all my formal music training on all the other instruments I play, everything I know about acoustic guitar I've learned through observation. I can sit across from another player, without my guitar in hand, and simply watch the chord changes and strumming patterns, and then hours later when I have my guitar, I can close my eyes and recreate everything I saw and heard. That's how I taught myself originally. I was 16 and spent an entire summer watching others play. I never once picked up a guitar; I just watched. Then, at the end of the summer when I was back home, I went into our crawl space and brought up my mother's old classical guitar that was actually missing two of the six strings. I picked out two chords, Em and Am, closed my eyes, and just played.

This is probably the greatest testimony to the fact that I am a visual learner, primarily - that, and that I'm a lip-reader. (Yeah, go ahead and cover your mouth while talking to me, and I'll have no idea what you've just said. And phone conversations ... a true struggle sometimes.)

I hid in my bedroom to take up this newest instrument. It was a personal struggle and challenge. But I just couldn't get enough of it. I could feel the chords resonate through my body as I practiced, even though the chords were terribly out of tune. It took a while for my parents to discover what I was doing. It wasn't until I started forfeiting my trumpet that my parents took me seriously. For my 17th birthday, they bought my first acoustic guitar - a white Samick 6-string. They even got it with the pick-ups built in and my own Crate speaker. I was simply in heaven. And that Big Bertha of a guitar was a workhorse for the next several years.

My classical was purchased out of necessity. Taking formal classical lessons was a bit difficult on the giant Samick. I find the small, nylon string classical guitar so dainty for me. I feel like I am not worthy to play that instrument as I should. I shun with frustration the challenge to master that instrument, but I do believe that one day I will return to those studies.

My 12-string is my baby. It's my comfort instrument. It's always there for me to strum and feel the intensity of the amplified chords saturate my body. I can play that instrument for hours and never tire. And it's always just been mine. It's the only part of my musical background that has always just been mine. And it owns me.

So yes, I am twittering with anticipation to be soothed with new rhythms and chord structures and challenged musically and technically ...no, it's not the coffee.
Unknown "kinners" Serene - 16 years, 8 months, 8 days ago

Roll down like water
And leaves you drowning
With every breath they steal
Roll down like water
Till you forget
How love feels

Like a box that's kept
on some dusty shelf
Filled with memories
of our former selves
We can clutch them tight
as they drag us down
Like an anchor tied to our soul
Or let 'em roll

Roll down like water ...

--D. May
Unknown "kinners" Serene - 16 years, 8 months, 10 days ago