Old Poetry

So, i found this random piece of paper on my bedroom floor (not at all unusual, mind you) and it had the following "poem" hastily scribbled on the back of it. Thought it might be worth sharing. Can't say i remember the context surrounding my writing it, but interesting to see where i've come from, perhaps.

when the night is at its darkest
and i feel so painfully empty
so lost
so forsaken
when i want nothing more than to be held
comforted
loved
when i can do naught but cry in bitter, emasculated, self-loathing
(will you show me the final count of those shed tears, in the end?)
it is during such times that i say:
"i am abandoned,
God has never forsaken me."
what can i say to those who despair?
to those who mourn?
to those who fear the dark?
"Never will I leave you,
nor will I forsake you."

(To give credit where it's due the line "i am abandoned, God has never forsaken me." is lovingly borrowed from the Children 18:3 song "Abandoned")

ἐλέησον

Ἅγιος ὁ Θεός

ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς

i am broken before You

Ἅγιος ἰσχυρός

ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς

fill me with your radiant light

Ἅγιος ἀθάνατος

ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς

let Your light shine

through the cracks in my heart

Κύριε ἐλέησον, Χριστὲ ἐλέησον, Κύριε ἐλέησον

(Holy Holy Holy)

may Your justice swell up from the ocean deep

may Your justice pour down from the heavenly heights

forgive my dispassion

forgive my apathy

forgive my sloth

ἐλέησον, ἐλέησον, ἐλέησον

forgive me as i forgive others

have mercy on me as i have mercy on others

Amen

Nothing significant for today.

i've decided to try and be a bit more intentional about posting here more regularly and i'm very uninspired today so my thoughts are especially abstract and scattered.

Today marks 3 months since i quit smoking. There are many times when i regret having done that. Stupid, i know, but such is the nature of addiction, i suppose.

i recently rediscovered the awesomeness that is Tuvan throat-singing. It happened like this: My brother Matthew saw a strange looking CD for sale at a library in Edmonton and lent it to me. The CD was Ilmatar by a Finnish folk band called Värttinä. It was so enjoyable i decided to look into some of their other music. The album of theirs that came out shortly before Ilmatar, titled Vihma featured some Tuvan throat singing, which pushed me to watch the documentary Genghis Blues, which is about American blues musician Paul Pena and his discovery of Tuvan throat-singing and his subsequent journey to Tuva to particpate in the national throat-singing competition. That led me to purchase the album Back Tuva Future by Kongar-ol Ondar (one of the most talented throat-singers in Tuva). Fantastic album.

Also, i've been revisiting my childhood by watching a few of my favourite shows from those days: Batman: The Animated Series, X-Men, and Gargoyles. Good times.

Albums i'm big into right now: All the above mentioned albums, along with Maya by MIA, and Rain's 'A Comin' by Children 18:3.

Airing Out The Closet, and Laying That Skeleton To Rest

So, it's been about nine months since my last post, and i've been encouraged by a very close friend of mine to take up blogging again. What better way to return than by opening up heart in a very uncomfortable way and letting the internet in on one of my most tightly held secrets?

i am a survivor of sexual abuse.

It's amazing that such a small statement can hold so much chaos and pain wrapped up in it. It's amazing that such a small act has had such a deep and detrimental effect on me for the majority of my life. For about 17 years i kept that to myself. For that amount of time i unwittingly let that event define so much of my identity.

My insecurity and tendency towards self-disdain/loathing, my horrible body image, my fear of betrayel/rejection, my difficulty allowing people to get to know me or get close to me, a vague and general sense of shame...

The list goes on.

It happened when i was pretty young, but my childhood memories are pretty jumbled, so the chronology has been lost, i would have been no older than 7 or as young as 4 years old. Like i said above, i've had a long time to hold on to that hurt.

Living through your schooling years with an inability to trust people doesn't make it very easy to develop deep, and lasting relationships. That's something i'm still trying to figure out.

So, i don't really know what else to write about this, so i think i'll end here for today.

O Death, where is thy sting?

i have experienced two significant deaths this year, both of which were sudden and tragic. The first was the wonderful Ruth Oomen. Ruth was one of the organizers of Eastman Youth Choir, a regional choir i was in during my high school years. She was taken in a car accident last winter, and though i hadn't really been in touch with her anymore, it still hit me pretty hard. She was one of the main reasons i took part in most of the choir stuff i did back then. Then in May, Andrew Spoljar took his own life in the midst of a psychological break. Andrew was the brother of my good friend Amy Komus, and he had recently "joined" our little house church. i wasn't as close to Andrew as i wish i could have been, but his passing also shook me.

What hit me harder than both of those tragedies, was when my mother was diagnosed with cancer in August. While it seems that there's nothing to worry about, they're confident that the hysterectomy got all the cancer out of her, i'm still all emotional about it. The thought of my mom having to receive radiation treatment can get me crying no matter how great my mood is at the time. Why is this?

The loss of an illusion can be more painful than we often think. i haven't lost my mother. i have, however, lost the unconscious notion that my mother is immortal. That scares me, i don't ever want to have to face that loss, but it is inevitable. OK, you must now be thinking "Goodness' sake, this guy is morbid!" Well, that is true, but that's not the point here.

Now that i have come to terms with this loss of illusion, what do i do about it? Or, rather, what should i do about it? There's that bit of pop-wisdom "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." While entirely cliché, it's also entirely true at times. The typical response to a near-loss of a loved one is to suddenly have this renewed value and appreciation for them. At least that's the Hollywood response, and really, should be the typical response for anyone who has an actual soul.

i, however, have just continued on, in my callous way, to take my mother for granted most of the time. "Brenden! Where is your heart and soul?" you ask, incredulously, "you're normally such a sensitive and caring person!" (now that bit i'm really not sure about, it could be sarcastic or not...) i honestly have no easy answer to that question. There is no one that i love as much as my mother, and i have doubts that anyone will usurp that spot in my heart that she holds, but at the same time she is the person i take for granted the most. Where does this painful dichotomy come from? Why is it that we as a species have a tendency to hurt those who we love the most?

i probably just need to grow up a bit, i know my idealism tends to colour everything i see. Perhaps, it's not as bad as i'm making it out to be, since i do have a slight tendency to be hard on myself (as well as a slight tendency for understatement).

Well, now that i'm just rambling, and seem to have forgotten the reason for starting this post, i will sign off.

Here we are at the end of an era.

Cornerstone.

For the past 7 years that word has evoked very strong emotions within me. It is 5 days of great music (and not-so-great music), unhealthy food, poor sleeping conditions, people from  just about every subculture (goths, gutter punks, anarcho-primitivists, hippies, metal heads, tough guys, folksy types, etc. etc.), embarrassingly cheesy slogans, love, laughter, and all-around good times.

This year was different for me. I had a lot of fun, for sure. I saw all the bands i had hoped to see, and discovered some new ones as well. However, over the last two days of the event i saw two bands in total, and spent the majority of my time by myself (mostly by my own choice). The sad part is that i found it all so overwhelming this year.

I didn't enjoy myself nearly as much as i have in the past. It could be due to a number of things that were on my mind that just wouldn't go away, or other factors that were influencing my mood in general.

So, it's looking like 5 is it for me. Don't get me wrong, i did have a great time for the most part, and i don't in any way regret having gone this year, i just doubt i'll go back.

That is, unless i get a rocker girlfriend who would want to go with me...

To Andrew

Andrew, i know we never really hung out or spent much time together, but trust me dude, i regret that a lot.

i really was looking forward to getting to know you more. The little i saw of you personally was all good. You struck me as a really solid, caring, guy. The way you interacted with Nilaya was inspiring at times, and your paintings really showed a sensitivity that was not as readily visible. It was really good to hear that you had decided to follow Christ, and it was great to have you over at Little Flowers. i'm sorry i missed your wrestling match, i really did want to go to it, honestly. Only as i write this is it starting to sink in that i won't see you again in this life. That realization leaves me feeling a hollow pain in my chest. i am at a loss for words, the feelings i have are overwhelming.

i don't know what to say. This can hardly be called a tribute, as much as i wish i had the words to make it one.

You were and are loved, and are sorely missed.

R.I.P. Andrew Spoljar. February 28, 1983 - May 10, 2009

First we take Manhattan...Then we take Berlin.

"It's been about 14, 15 years since I was last up on a stage, like this, here. I was 60 then. Just a kid with a crazy dream..."

Well into his seventies, Leonard Cohen is still a phenomenal poet and, in all honesty, musician. His moody lyrics are some of the most evocative and inspiring words i have had the honour of hearing. His performance lasted 3 hours in total, and i am in no way a hardcore enough fan to list all the songs he performed. Highlights for me included such songs as Bird on a Wire, The Partisan, Suzanne, Hallelujah (cementing it as his own song in my mind, and the best version of it by far), I'm Your Man, First We Take Manhattan, Closing Time, If It Be Your Will (beautifully sung by Charley and Hattie Webb, more on this one later) and the spoken word piece A Thousand Kisses Deep. He ended with Ruth 1:16 (Where you go I will go..) set to music quite beautifully.

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come (to Winnipeg) to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

That is my favourite stanza ever to be put to music (the Winnipeg bit was a nice touch too). Leonard's lyrics are so poignant and emotional at times, an art that i sometimes fear has been lost in the music industry. He had a great stage presence and was modest enough to allow his back up musicians the spot light at times, and they so very much deserved it. He was incredibly respectful of his musicians, and had no air of superiorty over them.

Here is part of the wonderful prayer Leonard Cohen wrote, entitled "If It Be Your Will":

If it be your will
that I speak no more,
and my voice be still
as it was before,
I will speak no more,
I shall abide until
I am spoken for,
if it be your will.

If it be your will
that a voice be true,
from this broken hill
I will sing to you.
From this broken hill
all your praises they shall ring
if it be your will
to let me sing.

It's been a long time since I rock and rolled...

As my unashamed reference to Led Zepplin states, it has been quite some time since i last posted. What's at fault? Probably a mixture of apathy, laziness, and lack of inspiration. If i really wanted, i suppose i could go on a bitter rant about some of the idiocy i have been subjected to as of late, but i feel this blog has enough bitterness in it already. So, i shall instead list some things that have happened recently (or  will happen soon) that make me happy.

1. My recent purchase of the newest K'naan album "Troubadour." While K'naan is a hip-hop/rap artist, he is a poet of the finest calibre, and is not afraid to share his experiences growing up in Wardhiigleey (which translates to "the lake of blood") in Somalia during their civil war. Whether he is tearing through the braggadocio which so often infuses his genre of choice, or is sharing the story of his girlfriend's murder when he was twelve years old, he is always eloquent. His beliefs always show through, and while they are different from my own (he is a muslim), i still have a great deal of respect for him.

2. Tonight i have the great opportunity to see Leonard Cohen in concert. Leonard Cohen is, was, and will always be one of the best things to ever happen to Canadian popular culture. His lyrical genius more than makes up fo his lack of musical ability. His songs have been covered hundreds of times by some of the most popular musical artists of the 20th century. He is quite possibly my favourite contemporary poet. i might even go so far as to say that i appreciate Cohen as much as i do Dante.

3. Adventures in rural south-eastern Manitoba. Whether it's traipsing through abandoned houses/barns,  being harrased by a dead coyote's ghost, crashing a luchadore photo shoot, or simply touring around the country listening to southern rock. This is something i've recently started taking part in with my brother Sean, and our friend Kris (and whoever else happens to join us). These adventures/tours are like mini road trips, and i find it amazing how much awesome stuff there is right in my backyard that i don't even know about.

4. Cornerstone Music Festival. Best music festival ever. It's going to be fantastic.

5. Tom Waits in a rap song. There are no words to describe...

Other things that have made me smile recently include freshly baked cookies, strange Scandinavian women and their equally strange music, McDonald's food late at night, reconnecting with (long, lost) friends, and good quality fantasy epics.

Why I hate St. Valentine's Day

It is not because i'm single. In fact, i might possibly hate it more if i had a "significant other" (is anyone else annoyed by that term?). Of course, one could argue that i hate it because i had a huge fight with my girlfriend on this day, 3 years ago, but fear not! To be honest, it was my hate for St. V's Day, that caused the fight in the first place.

"So why do you hate St. Valentine's Day, Brennie??" You ask.

"Well, [insert your name here], it's because Valentine's Day is just a big money grab," I reply condescendingly.

"But...but...It's about loooooooooove!" You exclaim desperately,  the same shock and disbelief written across your face as the time you found out Santa didn't exist.

"That is a common misconception, [insert your name here]," i explain, "and it may have even been about love at some point, now it is just a day when card/candy/flower stores can guilt boyfriends/husbands/etc. into buying their goods after jacking up the prices. It's really about shallow, conformist, sentimentalism."

"Wow, Brennie, you sure are bitter/cynical!" You reply heatedly.

"i would say i'm being realistic, but of course 'that's what they all say,'"

At that point i give up trying to explain the rationale behind my distaste for this day and change the subject to something unrelated. It is one of my goals to never get into a relationship with someone who would require me to do something for them on St. V's, and so i greatly anticipate having someone to not celebrate the day with.

i have lost my faith in cynicism.

For years i have guarded my heart with bitterness and an uncompromising cynicism toward all things romantic. This is starting to change, regardless of how i see some relationships playing out around me.

Someone told me that she will laugh at me when i get into a relationship and do all the things that i've been complaining about regarding how people are in romantic relationships. i still don't know how i feel about that, but it almost borders on being offensive (edit: She read my blog, there was a slight misunderstanding on my part, it's all cleared up now). Then i think back on my last relationship, and how i became one of those couples that i hated so much. Now, i do know that the next time i get into a relationship it won't be such a mess as that one, at least now i have a basic foundation of how relationships should and should not be done. That being said, i still wonder, just how much of that idiocy will i repeat, and how much of that idiocy is unavoidable?

Anyways, i'm sick of being tagged as bitter, of being labeled as a cynic, and i'm sick of those statements being accurate. i don't want to be a cynic anymore, i'm just not sure how to go about changing...

i dunno how i feel about this poem, but whatever, here it is:

this dark shell around my heart is beginning to crack

and from within a weak light is shining through

i pry at the cracks but my fingers slip

my hands are weak and shaky

the task seems insurmountable and my strength ebbs

tears well up in my eyes

i try to hold back

the dam breaks

the cascade flows over the shell of my heart

i just want to let go

i want to rid myself of this suffocating cage

my heart wants to soar

until it finds a place to nest

as my tears baptize my scarred and wounded heart

the dark shell softens

the cracks widen

and healing comes

the fire within the shell, so nearly stifled

is not doused by the flow

but fed

the tears become flame adding to the conflagration within

my bitterness is consumed

but that is not the end

the healing will take time

and effort

but when it is complete my heart will soar and someday find

its resting place

A Portrait of my Beatrice, or The Impossible Woman, or A Romantic's Quest for a Hopeless Ideal.

This is a pretty much pointless post, so i would not feel obligated to actually read it if i were you.

i want a woman who:
is strong of character, gentle of spirit
loves me for who i am and challenges me to become who i'm meant to be
doesn't care if her body isn't "perfect" according to the standards of society
has a vision for her life that compliments and supplements my own
has a passion for justice and the oppressed
doesn't expect me to be the guy from any one of those stupid chick flicks
can see just why St. Valentine's Day is such a scam
is alright with occasionally wearing dresses/skirts
is able and willing to open up to me, and is willing to let me open up to her
is able and willing to put up with my wackiness
doesn't buy into the lie that love = flowers/chocolates/jewelery/$$$
follows her own sense of fashion, unpolluted by society
likes holding hands and cuddling
is good with kids (and wants her own someday)
is eccentric in her tastes (though i suppose that would pretty much be a given if she were to end up with me)
is intelligent and thoughtful, not frightened of introspection
is affectionate, not clingy
is able to accept the fact that i do have friends who i may want to spend time with
is communicative, says what she means (forgive me, i am a guy, thus, i am oblivious)
is able to live without me and doesn't think about me constantly (i don't want anyone addicted to, or obsessed with me, that's not love, it's creepy, and i only like the whole statement "you complete me" when it's being said to Batman by Joker)

i probably ought to make it clear that Dante never did end up with Beatrice, he simply viewed her as the incarnation of beatific love. His love for her was secret, unrequited and highly respectful. She was a muse of his, he wrote a number of sonnets to her, and one of his more popular works, La Vita Nuova, was also inspired by her. That is why i chose her name to represent this ideal of mine.

Introspection That Isn't Dark Or Moody, or The Happy Post.

This is a compilation of two of my Facebook notes (The Happy Note pts 1 & 2), with a bit more happiness thrown into the mix.

things that make me happy:
- Little examples of common courtesy whether i'm giving, receiving, or simply witnessing them.
- Nature doing its thing i.e. a squirrel stashing some food in my back fence.
- Making people laugh.
- My bed, at least when I'm really tired.
- The nonsensical banter that is so common, and idiosyncratic, to my family.
- My friends.
- When pretty girls smile (of course, this is because the smile usually adds a great deal to their beauty).
- Little kids at play.
- Tales of hope and beauty in the twilight of our souls.
- When i manage to write something that i actually like.
- Choir tours (or at this point, memories of choir tours).
- Meeting cool people.
- Being accepted and loved for who i am.
- Books (generally, the more phantasmagorical the better).
- Cornerstone Music Festival.
- Cooking or baking, especially with other people.
- Hugs.
- The freedom to make mistakes.
- Good music.
- My brothers and sister-in-law.
- My parents (believe it or not).

i could (should) probably write more along these lines, but i think is a good enough start at least.

More Labyrinthine Thoughts and Enigmatic Ramblings

i was planning on my next post being "A Portrait of my Beatrice, or The Impossible Woman, or A Romantic's Quest for a Hopeless Ideal," but i probably won't bother publishing that one, even though i have put some serious work into it.

As i mentioned in my last post, i have been thinking a lot lately about whether or not my weirdness is genuine. Last night, caught in the throes of a mild identity crisis, i nearly came to the conclusion that the only reason i do the weird things that i do is because otherwise people will just ignore me. Unless i make myself noticeable, no one will notice me. That's how i feel, regardless of the veracity of the statement.

Another thing i noticed about myself is that every time i reveal a bit more of my heart, just opening up in any small way at all, will only lead to me closing back up again (if not even more). This i do because i feel like people just forget what i have said almost immediately after i have said it, thus removing any meaning the vulnerability may have had.

i hate goodbyes, and i hate anticipating goodbyes. Sometimes it seems like as soon as i let someone in i am hit with the cold, hard, truth that eventually they will be gone. This is nearing being an absolute in my mind. No matter how close someone is to me, i will have to say goodbye to them at some point. This is one of the reasons that the idea of a romantic relationship is so frightening to me. All relationships end at some point, and it always hurts when they do.

My insecurities have been hounding me more so than usual. as of late. What have i got to offer? What right do i have to be in a position of leadership? Would my friends still love and respect me if was fully honest and open with them? Is it even possible for me to be fully honest and open with anyone?

i am pretty sure that i am not at all capable of accepting any sort of compliment. That probably comes as a real shock to you. While it is partially that i don't believe them, most often compliments just baffle me, i have no idea how to respond to them.

Well, that's enough of this nonsense for now.

Welcome to the labyrinth that is my mind

My head is full.

With all that is going on, i am impressed by the fact that i haven't shut down altogether, emotionally and mentally. It's been crazy these past few weeks. The DTS is going swell, i love the group we've got here. The unfortunate bit is the schedule; it's packed.

Then there's all the relationship drama that's going on among the various couples that are friends of mine, which is something i just don't want to have to deal with.

A friend of mine lost her baby, which is a sort of pain i cannot, and will never, begin to understand. Her name is Jayna, please keep her in your prayers.

Other crises that friends of mine are going through run the gamut from questioning their faith to thinking they will never be good enough for a romantic relationship (gee, that sounds familiar for some reason...).

Please don't read this as me whining about my friends and downplaying their struggles, i'm not. i love these people and i'm an empath. When one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers.

Now, add to that my personal craziness. The nagging quasi-desire for a girlfriend, the constant worry that i'm going to let someone, anyone, down, the desire to be understood and the hesitancy to let anyone into my heart, blah, blah, blah.

i just read over my post Stale Beer and Cigarettes again, and the apparent paradoxes of my being jumped out at me again. Lately i've been thinking that maybe my weirdness is just a front, an act so that people think i'm unique and "special." That line of thinking worries me. What if it is all just masks and costumes that i've convinced myself are my face and skin?

Bunnies vs. Ducklings: Who's Cuter?

I was recently exhorted by my friend Maqhal to write a post regarding whether bunny rabbits are cuter than ducklings, or if the reverse is true.

After extensive and exhausting research I still cannot reach a definitive conclusion, though I personally lean slightly toward the bunny side of the argument. That bias is probably from a run in I had with some ducks during my younger years, I won't go into detail in that story, however, as it was traumatic and I am still dealing with the long term consequences of it. Of course, it would be unprofessional of me to let my personal biases colour my findings, and so I am trying to be as impartial as I can be.

Bunnies are soft, cuddly, have large eyes, cute widdle ears, and make excellent pets. On the flip side, their urine is rather stinky, and they have sharp pointy teeth that can do a considerable amount of physical damage (such as gnawing through a grown man's neck). Edit: Rabbits also have been known to attack snakes.

Ducklings are downy, have cute widdle beaks, are less likely than bunnies to be homocidal, and are excellent as side dishes. They don't make as good a pet as a bunny does, since trying to pet them can lead to terrifying attacks from said duckling's mother. Trust me on that one, it's an ugly scene.

       

Ultimately, whether one is cuter than the other is up to you, the reader. Again, my preferance is bunnies, but that's just me.

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

I have found I do the vast majority of my introspection late at night. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about love, and not the unconditional, look-out-for-your-fellow-man type love, but the *gasp* romantic variety.

While this is one of the only areas in life in which I am a genuine cynic, it is also one of the things a desire most. A "significant other," someone I can write cheesy poetry about and go for long walks with, hand in hand. I've had this strong desire for this kind of love for as long as I can remember, I've had countless crushes throughout my life, and almost as many rejections. I have come to the conclusion that these rejections, coupled with my intense desire for requited love, have had something of a major impact on me. I have found that when a girl expresses interest in me, and there is the slightest chance, however minute it may be, that something could possibly come of it, immediately my heart says: "Good enough!" and latches on to that person.

This has happened on more than one occasion.

The prime example would be the girl I dated (yes, there has only been one, surprise!). Here's the story: It was my grade twelve year, and there was this really cute girl in one of the choirs I was in. Me and her struck up a friendship, we talked quite a bit. I got to liking her something awful, and she eventually admitted to having some feelings for me. So, what did the ever-brilliant Brenden Knight end up doing? He started dating one of her friends. Now, why would I do something like that? Well, I knew this girl wouldn't be able to date for a while, and I found out her friend would indeed date me if I were to ask her out. Later I found out the girl I dated wasn't even all that interested in me in the beginning either. Shockingly enough, this not so well-founded relationship lasted for 13 months. By then it was obvious we were terrible for each other, and so she broke it off. Also, I should point out that I wanted to end it, but didn't because I'm a wuss. Now, being two and a half years after the fact, I am just coming to grips with just how wrong the relationship was, it ruined the friendship I had with both girls mentioned.

So how do I go about taking off these shaded glasses that I wear?  How do I find the middle ground between my bitter cynicism towards romance in general and my overpowering desire for such a relationship? People have told me to "just let it go" or "give it to God," but I am still unclear as to what that means exactly, and how I go about doing such a thing. I'm sure my somewhat obsessive personality doesn't help the matter much at all...

Well, I'm tired now, and I don't really know what else to say about the matter.

The Power of A Simple Gesture

I was recently leading a youth group in an outreach we do called Roses to Prostitutes. The outreach consists of us YWAMers taking a group through either the West End or the North End (or both) and handing out roses to the girls working the streets and telling them that God loves them. I was leading my group through the West End and we had been walking for probably close to an hour having seen only one girl (and she took off as soon as she saw us).

So I was getting somewhat discouraged and confused at that point. I went by all the corners where the girls usually hang out and no luck. The youth pastor of the group came up to me and told me a story.

We had just passed a bingo hall as everyone was leaving it and one girl saw our group and the roses and stopped Randy (the youth pastor) and some of the guys in the group. She asked them if they were the group that hands out roses to girls who work the streets, and Randy said that that was what we were doing. She then said that she had been given a rose about a year ago and that is was a huge boost to her self-esteem. She went on to encourage them that what we were doing has a huge impact on the working girls, that she had eventuall quit hooking because of it, and that (at the time she told us) she had been sober for 111 days.

What do we get out of this? Love is an amazingly powerful thing and it can be channeled through the simplest of gestures. This story really illustrates why I believe so strongly that a life of love is the highest, and most important, of Christian ideals.

I'm exhausted at this point, but I'm pretty sure that I will blog more on this topic in the future.

Stale Beer and Cigarettes

If my life had its own scent it would smell like fresh vanilla in the midst of stale beer and cigarettes. It would sound like sad songs about unrequited love and hopelessness, a muttered curse, and a shout of praise. Its taste would be the purest of spring waters marred by the copper tang of blood. It would be a black and white film, both nihilistic and hopeful, filled with cynicism and a child-like wonder. I am Dante and Nietzsche, Peter Pan and Pagliacci. I am a child awed by the world and its inner workings. I am a man hardened by a world that has taught over, and over again, not to trust it. I am filled with inspiration and disgust with the great love and great evil that humanity is capable of. I am a romantic idealist searching for my Beatrice. I am a hero searching for a giant to defeat, and finding only windmills. I am the son of a King, and a disciple of a Transient. I try to live a life of love and doubt that love exists. I walk alongside Tolstoy, and try not to stumble in the drunken stupor of my own unrighteousness. I am an embodiment of inconsistencies and contradictions. I utter tirades against the masks I see people wearing, while my vision is narrowed by my own. I despise the objectification of women within the fog of my own lust. I speak out against war, and drive a knife of judgement into the backs of my friends. I live in a bubble of self-centeredness, demanding and then rejecting the love of those around me. I preach love and cloak my heart in bitterness. I am Dorian Grey; my portrait is hanging in the darkest room of my heart. I guard myself from outward attack while I decay inwardly. I try to pull the mask from my face to find there’s nothing underneath. I base my identity on what I am not, not what I am. I am a pessimistic optimist, a naïve cynic. All I want is to be loved, but I don’t know what love is. I am trying to find Heaven, and trying to find people who will look for it with me. I am split between the mystic and the intellectual, pulled one way by beauty, another by logic. I am created in God’s own image, scarred by sin, and redeemed by His sacrifice. I am desperately searching for who God made me to be, and desperately trying to see those redeeming qualities He created in me. My greatest weakness is that I think myself weaker than I really am.

I am trapped in the ninth circle of Hell, while I struggle up the mount of Purgatory, and exult in the Presence of the Almighty.

Please, don't make judgements about me based on this rambling rant, it is the spawn of late night introspection and confusion, an attempt at an honest look at the convolutions of my person. All in all, God made me, my life has shaped me, and I am still growing.

Nemo, my name forevermore.

Last night I got to see Nightwish perform live for the second time. I was unsure of how well Annette (Lead vocals) would replace Tarja (Former frontwoman) in performance but she actually was really good (though she lacked Tarja's vampiric poise, that's for sure). The rest of the band (Marco - vocals/bass, Tuomas - keys, Empuu - guitar, Jukka - drums) were as tight musically as I remembered them to be. I was lucky enough to miss the opening act, excepting the last few strains of their final song. From what little I heard, I know I didn't miss much.

Nightwish, for you who don't know, is a Finnish metal band whose sound runs the gamut from symphonic to gothic to folky, though that last one is more rare in their songs. So, here's a rundown of the concert:

Bye Bye Beautiful - Great opening song, one of my favourites from Dark Passion Play.
Dark Chest of Wonders - From the album Once, a metal song about Peter Pan. Need I say more?
Whoever Brings The Night - One of their more unremarkable songs, but still catchy.
The Siren - Another song from Once, also very good.
Amaranth - The first single from Dark Passion Play, pretty good, I expected it to come later in the set though.
The Islander - Marco and Empuu picked up acoustic guitars for this one. The fact that they would perform this one in concert totally took me by surprise as it is a complete departure from Nightwish's usual style. Awesome song for sure.
The Poet and The Pendulum - The 13 minute and 54 second epic from Dark Passion Play, another surprise since the y used a full choir/orchestra (and a boy soprano soloist) for the album version. This song is probably Tuomas' magnum opus (He writes 99.9% of their music. On a completely unrelated note, he had a 12" figurine of Edward Scissorhands on one of his keyboards)
dunno - yeah, they played a song I didn't recognize, it was also very unremarkable.
While Your Lips Are Still Red - Another slow number, pretty much one big stab at Tarja, the former frontwoman/diva.
Sahara - Another one of my favourites from Dark Passion Play.
Nemo - One of the best songs Nightwish has ever written, a great closer to a great set.

Encore set: Why do bands do the whole walk-off-the-stage-wait-a-while-for-the-fans-to-scream-themselves-hoarse-then-come-back-out-and-play-more-songs thing anymore? My buddy Cole compared it to "peekaboo", I found that sadly fitting. Anyways...
7 Days to the Wolves - A good song, but 7 minutes? A bit long imho.
dunno - *gasp*! another song I didn't recognise! Shame on me...
Wish I Had An Angel - While it isn't the greatest lyrically, it's a really awesome metal tune. Probably the best song to close the show.

Nightwish is one of those rare "secular" metal bands that not only doesn't try to sell themselves as "evil" but also isn't incredibly cheesey, like almost every fantasy metal band out there. Their onstage banter was amusing (mostly about how their hockey teams are doing), and their interaction as a band was borderline hilarious. They seemed really comfortable onstage and weren't scared to have fun. I definitely hope to see them again.