That One Time When I Was in the News

This blog has been in existence for what now seems like eons, but in reality it's not quite yet a decade old. Still, in internet terms, that's probably equivalent to an eon or two. Anyways, I've recently been taking on the task of converting my grandma's and parents' home videos, which are still on VHS tapes, into digital files and DVDs. As I was rummaging through the first batch of tapes to go through, I found a copy of a local news story (the channel was KTTC out of Rochester, MN) about blogging from 2005 that featured none other than myself (looking much younger than I do now). It's now been uploaded to YouTube to be preserved for all time... or at least until YouTube goes away... so if you're the least bit curious, here it is:

It's odd seeing yourself from years ago. I don't feel like I've changed that much, but when I look in the mirror, there's definitely a bit of age added to my face and body. That's what 6 years of time will do to you, I guess, but that's not important. What is important is thinking back to half a decade ago when blogging was all the rage for anyone and everyone with an internet connection and even the most minor craving to write. There were blogs everywhere by everyone. This was pre-Twitter and before Facebook had become ubiquitous. I'd spend hours of each week just writing about random crap--stuff I saw on the internet, junk I read, the mundane activities of my life, and complaining about the most minor of inconveniences.

Now, however, maybe it has come with age or maybe I just don't have the writing bug as much, but blogging is more of a "if I'm bored and don't have much else to do" activity. I always feel like I have so much to write about, so much to impart upon the denizens of the internet... but when it comes time to type out what I want to write, I'd much rather go read a book or catch up on the boatloads of work and commitments I seem to always have lined up. 

It was nice to get a glimpse back into the past and maybe it'll rekindle a bit of what I've lost in terms of my lust for writing. Or maybe it's just proof that the glory days are truly gone. Only time and the post counter to the right will tell!

Heeding Musicurious' Call for Submissions!

My friend, Zach, is trying to put together an anthology where writers find a song they have a particular attachment to and write a response of some sort, whether it be the feelings it conjures up, another verse to song, or a direct response (more information on the project is at Zach's site, Musicurious). I didn't have a lot of time, unfortunately, to really think about this, but I did get something to him before his deadline. I'm not happy with it (who really ever is happy with what they write?), but it is what it is.

Hands - "The Helix"

I am not alone.
Would you clear the dust from my eyes?
Would you recognize my voice if I should talk to you?
Oh, I feel so tired.
So wake me up.
I believe your hands hold the sun.
But in the deepest of my mind, I question everything you've done.
Give me rest.
I believe your breath fills my lungs.
But it's a thought that's hard to swallow, I feel ashamed I can't hold on.
Give me rest.
I will take your hand.
Just lead me through the dark.
I will take your hand.
Don't ever let me go.
"Be still and know that I am God."

Rick Gebhardt - "Someday"

In 100 years, I won't be here. 50 years ago, I wasn't here. But right now... right now I'm here. That's a sentiment with a very finite, extremely limited lifespan, at least in regards to my saying it. Death comes for us all--this we all know. We feel it, we deny it, we rationalize it, we ignore it, we fear it, and we try to accept it. Realizing that you have an expiration date... when you first truly swallow that fact... is scarring. You may argue that you lose your innocence the first time you have sex or the first time you willingly do something hurtful or the first time you understand that the world is imperfect, but you truly lose your innocence when you realize you don't get to be here forever. You will die. It's a thought that haunts, that drives, that depresses, and that guides. Seeing someone gasp their last breath sears you. Even surrounded by friends, loved ones, and care-takers, death is faced alone. Or so our rational mind tells us. But if we rationally know this, why do we search for someone to be there with us ethereally? Why do we try to convince ourselves so assuredly that we don't simply end as our body stops? Why does the collective human experience seem to have a spiritual component that defines our existence? Are we simply that deluded, or is there something more beyond the rational? We all will face that moment of truth, alone as we blink out of existence... or with a god of some form as we move on to our next phase of life.

I don't want to face death alone. Who would? I don't want to cease to exist. Who would? I don't want to end. Who would? So... I believe. But I struggle daily to convince myself that I actually do.

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

It's no secret that people seldom write letters any more, if at all. Most of our everyday communication is done either in person, via email, or often on Facebook. The only things we mail any more are packages and cards for holidays. When's the last time you actually wrote a letter? It will probably take you a little while to remember when. For me it was about 10 minutes ago.

I make it a goal to write letters to my grandparents at least once a month, often trying to shoot for multiple times a month. I started out doing it many years ago simply because my grandparents would write notes in the cards they sent me for holidays. I thought it would be nice to take a moment and write back because it was pretty cool getting something in the mail that wasn't a bill, junk, or a magazine I didn't order.

As it became habit, I started to get more out of the process. Writing an email or posting on someone's wall or shooting off an @-reply doesn't take much time or thought and, truthfully, I can't remember the last time I took more than a couple of minutes on any type of online correspondence that wasn't either for work or a blog post. When I sit down with a pad, pen, and mug of coffee on a Saturday or Sunday morning, however, with music playing in the background and the pets at my feet, it is a supremely unique communication experience.

My penmanship is not the greatest and I'm not the fastest writer in the world so as I formulate my sentences and write them down, I actively reflect on what I'm writing about. As I write about my volleyball game from last week, even if it's only for a sentence, during the time I'm writing that sentence I'm actively reflecting on that moment.  It's not about writing about right now; it's about remembering the memorable events from the last few weeks, putting down a brief description of them, and reliving them if even for only a moment or two.

After every letter, I feel like I've strengthened my memories of the time covered in the correspondence. I'm not only recounting the events of my life for my grandparents', but I'm rewinding time and reviewing the memories I'd created. It's very refreshing to reminisce in these short bursts. So if you find yourself bored or wondering what to do with an hour or two, grab a pen and paper and just write someone a letter. It would be amazing to see more letters flowing through the post office every day... and really, who doesn't love to get a hand-written letter every now and again?

Small Hiatus

I haven't really had the desire to write anything lately. Been busy with work and trying to deal with some other things going on in my life and it's left me somewhat drained. That and there are some things I really miss right now and I'm just trying to get by as best I can for the time being, which means that if I did write anything it'd be mopey, lame-o crap anyways so it's probably better for all that I just push away the keyboard for a little bit.

So, I'll be back to write sometime. I'm just taking a little time away.