Musicophilia

So I have a book recommendation for y'all. At your earliest convenience, run down to the nearest book store and buy Musicophilia - Tales of Music and the Brain by Oliver Sacks, author of Awakenings and The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. The author is a neurologist whose fascination with the brain is immediately evident, as is his knack for making clinical studies accessible and enjoyable to read. This book is filled with tales of fascinating disorders, obsessions, and cures all related to music. Seriously folks, this is nearly 400 pages of incredible stories. I find it really interesting that the author, without any religious practice, makes all these incredible points about the wonders of the human brain, when there is so much evidence that this is all the workings of a creative God. If you're interested in the brain and music, this one will be a fascinating read.

On a related note, I've been thinking about the effect music has on my own life, especially when it comes to its ability to alter moods. I know of a lot of people who use music as a reflection of their mood: sad music for sad times, happy music for happy times, indifferent music for indifferent times (okay, maybe not that one... mostly because I'm trying to think of what would be considered indifferent music, and I can't.) I, on the other hand, use music like medication, especially when it comes to my own depression. Music has enough power in my life to change the way I think and react, to the point where if I play sad music for sad times, I think I would feel worse than before. However, I'm not sure I would play sad music all that often when I'm happy, so it's not an exact science. Anyway, I'm curious what you guys think. So I'm going to see if I can't get one of those polls put on the side of my page. We'll see if it works.

Cheers.

Little joys...

Earlier this year I discovered the joy of smoking a pipe. There are so many activities that at one point in my life had seemed sinful, though there is certainly no Biblical law or decree to support that feeling. For instance, consuming alcohol in moderation is not in itself sinful. Using something like that for the purpose of getting drunk is definitely spoken about in the good book, but even Jesus made water into wine, and wine is what Jesus used to represent his own blood. So, along those lines, smoking a pipe was something that made me uncomfortable simply because it was unknown, untested in my own life. However, when I was invited by some friends at church to go smoke pipes and hang out, I thought I would give it a shot, if only to be social, something I’m not always good at. I really enjoyed it. There was a whole world of complexities, near-artistry in smoking pipes that I had never heard of, nor encountered. It was intriguing, and above all, enjoyable. I hung out with those same people several times afterward, enjoying myself more each time.

Being indoctrinated into this new culture, I began noticing pipe smoking more and more in every day life. Such famous minds as Albert Einstein and the Inklings, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien among them, were avid pipe smokers. Participating in this activity is relaxing and a great way to pass the time with others, usually accompanied by good conversation. It’s also a great catalyst for thought, and a great tool to help me focus on reading scripture. In fact, I’ll sit for a couple of hours reading my Bible with my pipe in hand, something I’ve always had a hard time doing. The pipe I own is a Peterson, their line being that it’s “the thinking man’s pipe,” and as cheesy as sounds, I’ve found it to be true. Sure thinking doesn’t require hot smoke, but I’ve actually found that I do some of my best thinking with it. There’s just something to it, though if hard pressed, I’m not sure I could truly articulate what it is. Perhaps having something to occupy my fidgety brain helps to focus it on more important matters. I know for many people, doodling can help a person focus on a speaker, perhaps on a Sunday morning as the preacher pours himself into his congregation. Focus can be a rare commodity at times, so anything to bring comprehension to an easily distractible mind is a good thing. This is how I feel about smoking my pipe.

I’m not endorsing tobacco, as some people have a history of nicotine addiction or any number of other vices associated with smoking. But I do enjoy it now and again. And now that I’ve been properly condemned by those against smoking of all sorts, I will take a bow and leave in peace with my thinking man’s pipe resting on the table.

Cheers.

The day's flotsam...

Here are a couple of random bits from the day. I found them amusing, so I expect you to as well.

The last couple of days I've been inside way too much, and not just indoors, I've been in my bedroom the better part of the last 48 hours. So in an effort to counteract the atrophied muscles and bedsores, I decided to go on a long bike ride. I hadn't ridden my bike long distance for a month or two, a travesty when the weather has been perfectly conducive to biking. I was probably 3 miles into my 17 mile ride when I saw an incredible sight. As I approached a busy intersection I saw a fellow biker of sorts, though he was of the leather-clad variety. This guy was decked out in leather: jacket, pants, boots, even a leather dew-rag-looking-thing on his sans helmet head. Dark sunglasses and a handlebar mustache completed this biker-stereotype of a man, an awesome sight to behold. But what really completed the whole ensemble, of course, was the bike. Or should I say scooter. Yes, this bad dude was riding a Vespa. I waited until I was sure he couldn't see me before I laughed out loud. It takes guts to ride a gutless bike.

After another 5 miles or so, I had something completely different and funny happen. I got to a point in the ride where I needed to spit. This can be tricky while riding a bike, because if you don't time it right, you're looking at a face full of expectorate, which is just as gross as it sounds. So I was preparing to launch, getting everything in its place, and fired... and at the exact moment the spit was leaving my mouth, I caught a huge disgusting whiff of dead animal, and in reaction lowered my head, spitting all over my leg. And as I rode past the putrid deer carcass, I couldn't help but laugh. Fantastic timing.

One last thing. On the side of this page I have a couple video clips posted, three of which are from my trip to Kenya a couple years ago. I posted these videos for the sole reason of being able to show friends and family where my sister Daylan lived and worked. One thing some of you know, is that Daylan and I tend to make jokes a lot. So in the video we make mention of things like driving on the wrong side of the road, knowing full well that there is no such thing. I hadn't even though that anyone would take our jokes about Americans seriously. People have gotten seriously upset, to the point that they feel obligated to set us straight via comment on the video. I got another comment this afternoon, more angry words directed at someone they've never met, and never will. It's hilarious that our flippant funny comments were taken so seriously. And all from a video I never really meant to be watched more than a dozen times. (It's at over 3000 hits now.) Good stuff. Well, bad stuff, but it's kind of funny.

Updates, new and old connections

Hey everybody!

So I have to say that having a computer of my own has been great. I've had a couple opportunities to use it for Keynote (Apple's far-superior Powerpoint-like program) presentations, and has performed beautifully. Today I got the opportunity to present my Pioneers information at my dad's church here in Bend, OR. It's just been one of those things where scheduling didn't work in my favor, and months went by before being able to share with the church body. Feedback said that the presentation went well, which is good because it seemed like it went well from my perspective. (Ever take a test in school and think you did really well only to discover you completely bombed it? I've had enough of those happen to give me a tiny twinge of fear when things seem to have gone well. You just never know. I had a handful of conversations with people about my upcoming Pioneers duties, and gave out 7 or 8 support letters. I need to work on being a bit more aggressive in giving out and requesting information from people. Someday I'll get there.

Last weekend I got the opportunity to lead worship at the Evangelical Free Church's Northwest District Pastors and Wives Conference (I wanted to abbreviate it to EFCNWDPWC, but it never caught on) held in Sunriver, about 25 minutes from Bend. There was a lot of work getting 5 sets of music together, and then the problems involved with half of your band living 3 hours away in Portland. But, despite all the complications, things went relatively smoothly. Actually, this was the first major worship event I've led in a long time, and a good reminder that I do indeed enjoy leading worship. I got the opportunity to share a little about my Pioneers work at that event as well, and hopefully God will work in people's hearts, reminding them that despite the crappy economic times, there are people out there working toward full-time ministry. It's just been great to have a couple weeks in a row where there was at least opportunity to increase support numbers.

And actually, now that I think of it, two weeks before that conference last weekend, I got to give an update to my home church in Portland during the Sunday service. I made a couple of very important connections that Sunday, which is both unexpected and fantastic. As a result of one of the new connections, I may at some point in the future have the opportunity to lead worship at a church in Hong Kong. I'm not going to count on that working out, but the prospect is exciting. The other connection is with a person in a nearly identical life situation, also heading towards missions, a new and valuable friend.

My work has gotten more regular, and I've even had a couple chances to substitute as an Educational Assistant in the district here in Bend. This last time substituting involved a pretty incredible happenstance, something that rarely if ever happens to me. So I got a call just before 7am that there was an opening for a sub in an all-Autistic classroom at a nearby school. So I showed up and was being shown the ropes when in walks a little girl that I could have sworn I knew. However, knowing I'm now in Central Oregon, I know that I hardly know anyone, let alone random child walking through the classroom door. So I kind of blew off that sort of weird deja vu feeling and went on with my business. A couple of minutes later in walks one of the classroom teachers, and I get the same feeling, like I knew who she was, but couldn't figure out for the life of me who she was. I went back to orienting myself to the room, and the little passes by again, staring at me like she knew me, and then she left the room. Then it hit me: I knew this kid from the school I used to work at up in Alaska more than 2 years ago. I even remembered her name, and asked the other assistants if I had the right name. I did, and as it turned out, the teacher was her mother, and I knew her from the afterschool program at my old school, because she would pick up her kid every day from the program. I re-established that connection with the mom (and the girl once school was over for the day) and she let me know that her daughter, even a year after I had left Alaska, had still talked about me and how much she enjoyed me as a staff member. So now I have a top-notch connection with someone in the district, and I can only imagine that I'm at the top of their substitute list, or at least close to the top. Anyway, this was one of the strangest connections I've had in a long time. What are the odds, really?

Hi Everybody!

Sorry for being so inconsistent with blogs recently. I've been both busy and lazy, a frequently fatal combination.

Just thought I would let everyone know that I was finally able to replace my stolen computer. Unfortunately my computer needs are relatively specific, so I couldn't easily replace it with the amount of money I already had. I want to give a special shout-out to my dad for letting me use his laptop while I was between computers. I'm up and running again, and it's really great.

So those of you on my prayer/support team can expect a special email or letter in the mail soon, and those of you who haven't committed, please do. I have forms all ready to mail and email out. I'm in real need of prayer partners, so if you're interested in that, I'll send you the form and then Pioneers can help me keep track of my team-members.

So thank God for a new computer. You will be seeing more of me on the interweb again.

Sometimes I can't even take the blessings

So if you don't already know, I'm a bit of a whiner. Usually you have to be a pretty close friend for me to openly whine in your presence, but it's always there, lurking under the surface. I don't know for sure, but it may be one of my spiritual gifts. I'm pretty good at it.

So I've been whining a little about how long it takes to raise support for missions. Did I mention I'm also impatient? And then after I've whined a-plenty for days on end, I get word that support had come in, and a lot of it.

So when sister Daylan and I were headed up to Alaska, we ended up staying a bit with a friend in Seattle. This friend's brother was a good friend of mine in highschool, but contact had waned since graduating nine-and-a-bit years ago, and we really hadn't seen much of each other for the better part of 9 years. We ended up getting to catch up a bit while we visited Seattle, and I had a chance to share my upcoming mission work with Pioneers. He requested some support information, which eventually made its way to his hand. Recently, weeks since I had last seen my friend, I got an email from him, and word was given that he was very happy to support his old friend in an exciting ministry opportunity. I won't give specifics, but he and his wife were far more generous than I could have ever imagined. I was blown away. What a humbling experience to know that a whiner like me can be totally bowled over by God's hand in my life and the lives of those I know.

I'm not used to being blessed like that. I hope I never get used to it.

Cheers.

Cheers and Applause

So I have to share my great last couple of hours.

So first, I waited all day for a package in the mail to come. Normally the mail comes just before noon. Today, much to my chagrin, it didn't come until after five o'clock. However, when it DID come, along with my package was a notice from Pioneers that let me know there are a few new people wanting to become monthly financial partners. So, unofficially, I have around 15% of my monthly support secured. Amazing.

Then, not half an hour ago, I learned that someone bought one of my photos! I'm a part of an online stock photo agency, www.istockphoto.com, and have been slowly contributing photos over the last nine months. Tonight someone bought one! My very first purchase was made this very evening! Now, profit margins are not terribly high, but the fact remains that someone bought one of my pictures! If any of you are interested in purchasing my photos, or any of the millions of other pictures by the bajillion contributors, see the orange iStockPhoto link on the right side of the page. If you're not already a member of the site, you'll have to sign up, but THEN you'll be able to get a hold of top-quality Dayn Arnold photos. The link on the side of the page will take you directly to my photos, a good place to start.

Anyway, good things all at once. It's a good thing He's more faithful than I am, or we'd all be in trouble. Cheers. And applause.

(There are a (lot) of par(en(the)se)s) in this (one)!!!

First of all, I feel an update is in order. No, I'm not pregnant. I have had so many of you asking about whether I was, and I figured I owed both of my loyal readers an update. Oh, and also my computer and other things have NOT been found. Well, at least not found by anyone of repute, specifically anyone in law-enforcement or anyone with an over-inflated sense of justice.

So yeah, I was looking forward to saving up for a lot of the software and things I'll need for video/audio editing, software I didn't have because of a recent (if short-lived) switch to a new Apple MacBook Pro. Alas, for some reason still unknown to me, my computer, iPod, an external hard-drive, and my lovely Peterson tobacco pipe were all stolen. Perhaps this is some sort of incarnation of having all your eggs in one basket, though because of the cost of the equipment lost, these eggs may have to be Fabergé eggs in a basket made from the soft bone of baby Pterodactyls, painted with a mixture of gold-leaf and the blood of Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius by Captain Gladys Stoutpamphlet and her Intrepid Spaniel Stig Amongst the Giant Pygmies of Beckles. (My most insincere apologies for that last statement, but I think I've made my point.) Irregardless (to be said with a thick Boston accent) I lost a lot of things all at once, and while I must admit some rather unpleasant words were said in the chill of the moment, I have decided to take this all in stride. (Fortunately I have long legs, so I can take a LOT in stride.)

I've had a couple weeks to think about the loss of my valuables, and have come to a series of scattered conclusions. First and five-most, I am much more American than I would like to admit. By that, I mean I love my stuff, and feel entitled to having nice and expensive things. Within the first few hours of losing my Fabergé eggs, I lamented the loss of my iPod because I couldn't have every scrap of music I owned with me at all times. Good grief, Charlie Brown. How ridiculous is that? (You may take the question rhetorically or otherwise. Sometimes Captain Obvious comes to town with humorous results.) As much as I wish I were above this ridiculous commercialism, I'm right in the thick of it, taking it all in. (Greed is so often described in visual terms, green-eyed, black-hearted, but I think it may be best described as a pile of rotting meat drenched in saccharine perfume. Or like air-freshener in the bathroom wherein a large deposit has been made, and in a frantic attempt to hide their business, the depositor has not covered anything up, but has added extra foulness to the already-pungent aroma.) This sense of entitlement is a killer.

I do not claim to have problems of Biblical proportions, but I feel like I have a new understanding of the book of Job. God allows what we would deem an injustice to take place in the interest of testing the individual. God allows the devil to take everything of earthly-meaning from Job, injust by our standards, but he doesn't curse or turn his back on God, despite having done nothing to deserve the pummeling he receives. Then physical aliments, boils and such, and still no back-turning to be found. And all the while, he has this wonderful support structure of friends telling him he must have done something to deserve this, and that he needs to repent so it'll all go away. (Nothing like chastising those we care about when they could use some support.) So I was telling my mother about how I was feeling the tiniest bit like Job, except that I hadn't produced any boils or sores. She quickly reminded me of my physical ailments due to a certain recent cycling-accident, the repercussions from which I'm still daily feeling. So that confirmed my decision to change my name to Job, and replace my fantastically supportive friends with ones who know better than I do, and chastise me at every turn. I'm looking into putting out a bulletin on Craigslist to that effect:"Wanted: friends to lend me goofy theology and kick me when I'm down. Also must have experience with boils." So it feels like I'm being tested, and I'm actually a little excited about it. Not so much excited about the testing, but excited to see how far God has taken me in recent years so that I'm actually a little surprised to see how I'm taking this negative turn of events. I'm becoming more convinced that God tests us not for His benefit, but for ours. Seriously, we're talking about the omniscient, omnipotent king of the universe who not only created us, but KNEW us before we were conceived. He knows where we are, spiritually speaking. I, on the other hand, don't always know where I am, spiritually speaking. (Sometimes physically speaking too, especially in the nonsensical labyrinth that is North Portland.)

If someone were to take my reactions to negative experiences in my life and analyze those reactions, the expected response to losing my dream-computer would be falling into a deep depression, which would not only consistently affect me, but would cast a pall on anyone brave enough to try to be around me. My good friends know exactly what I'm talking about. In a pivotal moment of darkness in my own life, someone told me "You bring death into the room." Now that may not have been a particularly compassionate thing to say (perhaps recommendation to see a counselor or look into drugs for clinical depression would have been more constructive) but it stuck with me, as you might imagine it would. So my life graphed to an average would predict long-lasting depression from this kind of loss, this kind of blow to my own productivity. However, much to my surprise, my depression was a little less than 24 hours, followed by disappointment and bewilderment of a lesser nature for the following days. God tested me, and I got to see the results. It's like one of those "progressive" schools where students grade their own work (Anyone remember the episode of Arrested Development where we got to see Maybe's self-given grades, pictures for grades. Brilliant.) and on the other side of things I've had to give myself a B+ (An A seems a little too generous.)

Now that this blog is reaching brobdingnagian proportions, I should stop and say that things are good. My dad is letting me use his laptop until I can afford a new one, I have several opportnities to potentially make money using my gifts, and the sun is shining. I have some exciting things that really should wait for a new blog, so I'll save them. Thanks so much to the network of people who so diligently prayed for me in this loss, and thanks to the creator who says that nothing he created can bring death into any room. (And extra special thanks to whoever created parenthetical statements, as they let me whisper funny little rabbit-trails without going too far off the beaten path.)

Please pray...

Hey everybody.

My new computer was stolen out of a vehicle this evening. Please pray that I would get it back. I know God has done much more impossible things, so I know it's possible, though my brain tells me otherwise. Thanks.

Home?

So right now I'm midway through a week-long trip up to Alaska, and it's a little strange.

Because I did showings of "Bible Camp" in December and March, I've actually been up here more recently, which ends up meaning that I have less news, less to share with people. It's a strange position to be in. I suppose I have new solid information when it comes to what direction my life is taking, but other than that, things are pretty much how they were last March. One of the best parts of visiting my home-state is usually the fact that I have a lot of catching up to do with a lot of people, and this time around this is just not the case. In fact, the difference in this trip extends beyond the realm of just catching up with people.

"Alaska will always be my home," has been a phrase I've used with my non-Alaskan friends. And while it is likely this statement will always have a bit of truth in it, I'm no longer sure how far it goes. I think most of us have a place in our hearts for the "halcyon days of old," but when push comes to shove, rose-colored glasses seem only to come with blinders. So now that I'm back in my favorite state, the blinders are gone and I'm suddenly in a whole different place. Maybe I've grown accustomed to the ridiculous amounts of sunshine afforded by central-Oregon, but the constant overcast skies are as far away from an idyllic Alaskan summer as I can possibly remember. Friends have moved on, things have changed, and while it always seems like things should stay the same while I'm gone, they don't. It's like watching a TV show for years without missing an episode, and then missing nearly all of a season while I start watching a new show. I don't know what's going on half of the time because I've missed a whole set of inside jokes, relationship shifts, and characters growing up. A strange feeling, for sure.

So while it's great to be back where I grew up, it's not quite as I left it. And perhaps it's supposed to be that way.

My Trip to Kenya, Part 3

In my injury-excused lethargy, I was able to crank out another part of my Kenya videos. So far I've taken a slightly different approach to each part. We'll see what happens with the next part. Cheers.

A Tale of Two Tales

Sometimes a story is more fun with a little embellishment. I had a bit of an accident on my bike this last Sunday, and I’d like to try a little experiment. I’m going to tell the story of my battered body in two accounts. It’s your job to figure out which is true, and which is not. Also keep in mind that I may never let anyone know which account is which. It just may remain one of the great mysteries of our time.



Account 1

As the afternoon slipped slowly into evening, I was still riding my bike. It had been three days so far, trying to cross Oregon’s formidable Cascade Range, and I was beginning to lose my nerve. It was not like me to lose anything but patience. My steely nervous system was a byproduct of my rugged, often extreme lifestyle, and not subject to the wear and tear of daily life. But after seventy-two straight hours of cycling, anything can happen, even to an amazing man such as myself.

Evening’s cooler air was refreshing, invigorating, but as I began to get my twenty-second wind, another kind of wind began. Real wind. It started as a light breeze, nothing to even think twice about. But as the black clouds began to sneak into my golden-blue evening light, I felt the birth of a gale. This portion of the mountains is known for its extreme changes in amplitude, a fact I was well aware of, and one for which I was prepared. However, despite my extensive training, the gathering wind at my face not only slowed my ascent of each uphill, but virtually halted my plan to coast down the downhill portions of this tumultuously treacherous terrain. I was losing steam fast, and there was no turning back. You see, the road had been blocked off to automobile traffic because of an extreme landslide, which not only necessitated my mode of transportation, but was the real reason I was riding so hard.

In a small village nestled in the folds of the Cascades, little Gertrude Twitter (those who know her call her Trudy) had been waiting for the postal service to deliver her insulin, a delivery made impossible by the recent landslides. I became a one-man postal service, and neither sleet nor snow nor the impending doom of a storm was going to sway me from my noble end: to deliver the goods and save another life.

My ally, good weather, would soon be overpowered by the awesome force of black clouds, wind, and torrential rain-pour. I was only a few miles from Trudy’s village, but my luck had begun to turn sour as layer upon layer of black clouds rolled in like some kind of thing that rolls a lot. I shifted quickly, methodically into my easiest gear, and stood up as I climbed what should have been the last hill of my arduous journey, flexing my impressive quads with each stroke of the pedals. I knew I couldn’t keep it up forever, but I could also see little Trudy’s face in my mind, her eyes screwed up as she fought back the tears as she imagined nobody would becoming with her life-saving medicine. Tears which had formed from the incredible wind in my eyes began to mix with tears from the dust that was being stirred and blown into my eyes which mixed with tears from the sheer mental strain I was under which in turn mixed with tears from the pain in my worn legs which ultimately mixed with tears from knowing Trudy was waiting, waiting, waiting for her knight in shining biker-spandex to come and save her. Also there were tears from the mountain onion farm I was slowly passing. It was harvest time, and the onions were being minced on site.

As I rounded the last bend, I could see Trudy’s village squatting on the mountainside. I made my final push toward the village when I saw something move in the corner of my eye. I whipped my head back just in time to see the herd of elk closing in on my position while the rain began to dump bucket on me. I couldn’t go any faster, and in hopeless agony I watched as hundreds, nay, thousands of soaked elk blasted past me. I knew it was a matter of time before I was trampled to death amid the cacophonous roar of the elk and thunder. This situation dictated my next move, a daring move indeed. I leapt from my bicycle, just as it was destroyed in a sickening crunch, and I landed on top of one of the younger elk, riding it easily into town. Caribou-riding was also part of my training, which turned out to be exactly the same as elk-riding. I steered my wild steed into the village, hopped gracefully to the ground and began shouting, “Trudy! Trudy! I’ve come to save you!”

Trudy’s mother came rushing out of a nearby thatched hut, screaming at her two dogs, and also for me to come quickly. I sprinted into the house, taking care to remove my wet shoes, and spotted Trudy lying quietly in bed, apparently at death’s door. I flung my helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, mouth-guard, shin-guards, and shoulder-pads to the dirt floor of the hut, and pulled out the refrigerated cylinder which held Trudy’s salvation. Tearing open the container, I quickly read the instructions several times, at which time I grabbed the syringe, plunging it into the exact right location. Immediately Trudy looked me in the eyes and said, “My hero!” I told her she needed not thank me, and that I must be on my way. On my way out the door, as I looked back at Trudy’s beaming face, I tripped over one of the dogs, landing on my right side, which injured my foot, thigh, and shoulder all at once. I quickly got up, covering my embarrassed face with my hand, bade them a final farewell, and limped out of town as the storm disappeared and sunset’s rays peaked their last from under the receding storm-clouds.

And that’s how I injured most of my right side.



Account 2

I went mountain-biking on an easy trail fairly close to home with a couple friends. I was following too close to one of the friends, when he made an unexpected move. I tried not to hit him with my bike and hit a tree instead. We were less than a quarter-mile from the parking lot.

And that’s how I injured most of my right side.



Now seriously, nobody will ever know the truth. Each story has its own merit grounded in reality. Tough call for most. Regardless, I messed up my right foot, quad and shoulder. The first day I had trouble walking, and now I’ve traded my inability to walk with a gnarly set of bruises and scrapes. But really, which account is true? Which story do you believe? The world may never know, and I’ll certainly never tell.

The Blob

My friend Fritz (he's a fantastic photographer - fritzphoto.com) invited me to Younglife's Wildhorse Canyon for the day. It's an amazing place, out in the middle of nowhere. There's a pretty amazing story behind its becoming a camp, though I only know second/third-hand info, so it's probably better to get it elsewhere. So we went out and played like a couple of kids. One of the more fun parts of the day was launching Fritz on the blob. I weigh 80 pounds more than him, which has a spectacular effect. Enjoy the video.

Blast the Beauty!

Here are a few more pics. These were taken on my way back from visiting my friend Fritz at Young Life's Wildhorse Canyon. I was trying really hard to get back home in time to meet some of my Mom's friends, but the stupid landscape wouldn't stop being so gorgeous. Blast all the beauty in central Oregon!

Partnerships et al...

Hey all.

It's starting to set in that it might take a really long time to raise support for my work with Pioneers. Actually, it's quite likely that it'll take much longer than I currently feel I have patience for. I really don't want to slip into a depression over this, which would not be a surprising way for me to deal with things I don't like. I could really use prayer that I can be satisfied enough with my current situation that I'm content, but not so much that I stop working to get the partnerships I need. While my own introversion really helps with the creative side of what I will eventually be doing, it's a killer when it comes to interpersonal relationships and connections. Oh, and if any of you want to check with your home church about partnering with me, you have my blessing. It's a long road ahead of me, but someday, certainly not in my timing, you all will be hearing tales from across the world of what God's doing.

Cheers.

What the heck, how about one more...

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I've been working on this stuff for way too long, but I'm enjoying it so.

Feeling Inspired

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Well, I have to say that the B&W inspiration is coming from this "Digital Photographer Black & White" publication I bought today at Costco. Digital Photographer is on the top of my list right now for periodicals. Insightful and expensive. I highly recommend it. Cheaper at Costco. Anyway, here's two more. Let me know what you think, eh?

It's a giraffe without color!!!

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So I've been trying to learn Photoshop a little better. Thought I'd share the fruits of my labor. Cheers.

It's a bug!

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So I'll make a departure from my usual nonsensically wordy blogs and give you a simple one. Look at the bug I saw tonight!

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So I'm just about to send out prayer letters to anyone and everyone. Thanks for everyone's patience. They shouldn't have taken so long to get out, but it's been a busy few weeks. I haven't yet learned exactly how much financial support I'll have to raise, but word on the street is that it's going to be $2000+ which is a little intimidating, considering my pool of rich friends is quite shallow. However, I know that God is good, and that it'll come in all at the right time. Thanks for your patience. And while you're waiting, you can check out my latest Kenya video below.

God bless.

The latest video I've put on Youtube

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Part 2 of my trip to Kenya... 1.5 years ago. Meh, better late than never... maybe...

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Punched Up

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From the time my sister Daylan first showed me Nickel Creek, I’ve been a fan of Chris Thile. Not only is he a master mandolin player, he’s a master musician. He is the reason I ever considered taking up the mandolin. And he’s one of the handful of musicians who ever lent any credibility to bluegrass music in the ears of this musical snob. And now I can say, with no small measure of glee, that I’ve seen and heard him in person, and I was not disappointed.

Chris Thile has been producing solo albums from before Nickel Creek was in existence, the last of which was entitled “How to Grow a Woman From the Ground.” So take the exact musicians from that album, give them the name Punch Brothers, and you have the group I saw at Portland’s Aladdin Theater last night. First of all, they’re extraordinarily tight as a group. More than once, a group note of unusual syncopation was so well executed that I uncontrollably grinned from ear to ear. It was the closest I’ve been to aural utopia in a long time.

The only album Punch Brothers have under their current guise is entitled Punch. Thematically, the album circles frontman Thile’s troubled marriage and ultimate breakup. While the album has a couple near-radio-friendly tracks on it, the majority of the album consists of a four-movement masterpiece entitled “The Blind Leaving the Blind.” Having grown up playing and listening to non-vocal jazz and classical music, I nearly always prefer instrumental over vocal music. For my taste, this piece is the ultimate combination of instrumental and vocal music, probably 70% instrumental, 30% vocal. The piece is a complex musical journey rich in virtuosic opportunity, an astonishing feat for a 28-year-old mando-player.

Most of Punch Brothers’ album was performed as well as a smattering of songs from “How to Grow a Woman From the Ground,” and a few traditional bluegrass-style pieces. Each instrument was individually miked, and two large-diaphragm mics stood at the front of the stage, used for vocals and solo parts. Because of the microphone setup, the band-members were forced to play like a real ensemble, utilizing real dynamics, and even physical positioning to play as a cohesive unit. Coming from a classical background, I hugely appreciated the fact that the band felt natural, like instrument and vocal levels weren’t being puppeteered by the sound engineer. A very natural and basic sound.

The set was split in two, with the first two parts of “The Blind Leaving the Blind” mixed into the first half’s performance, and second two parts mixed into the second. Due to the depressing nature of the piece as a whole, this split made the piece much more palatable in a live setting. The show was an enjoyable mixture of music from their two albums: Watch ‘at Breakdown, Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground, The Eleventh Reel, Punch Bowl, and The Blind Leaving the Blind. After playing two entire sets, Punch Brothers received an ecstatic standing ovation, followed by an encore of three songs. Following a beautiful Wilco cover, Punch Brothers brought one of Portland’s local fiddlers to the stage for a couple of traditional bluegrass songs.

One of my favorite parts of the show was the fact that they really played like a team. Like a band. It was great to see people playing dynamically with each other without any one person hogging the spotlight. It was true musicality in action. A pleasure to behold.

The entire show was a delight. Not only to hear live what I’ve listened to dozens of times on my own, but to see true musicality in such a young group. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m now a bigger fan of Chris Thile and Punch Brothers. Well done guys.

Thoughts on growth

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So I'm in a bit of a dilemma. Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

This summer I'm planning on recording my first album, something I've thought about before, but finally the timing is right. My journey as a song-writer has been relatively slow. I don't often play with other people, something all musicians need. I also have taste in music that far exceeds my ability to play. And to top it all off, my personal journey has retarded my growth as a songwriter.

If you've read my blog for a while, or know me well, you probably know that I've been undergoing some serious life change in recent years, though this hasn't really been apparent to me until the last couple years. As I stand now, I am painfully aware of many of my own limitations, areas in which I need serious work and attention. I'm also at a point where I'm willing to own those things, willing to talk about them, willing to make them known. (For a list of my shortcomings, send me your mailing address and one of my close friends or I will be happy to send you Dayn Arnold's Shortcomings: Volume One for three monthly installments of $29.95 plus shipping and handling.) So due to my own state of denial, most of the songs I have written have been very impersonal, or masked so that the listener would think I was singing about someone else. And sure, a couple of those songs have been decent, but very few of them really meant anything personal to me. As I have progressed in my own life journey, and as I've progressed in my songwriting ability, I've discovered a different side to my writing. A side that's not as pleasant and quasi-utopian as some of my previous work. But a side that is far more real.

So the album I'm working on is tentatively called 9-Years because it is a musical journey through my last 9 years of life. As some of you know, I've had my share of ups and downs in the last 9 years. Bouts of nearly unbearable depression, anxiety, bitterness, anger juxtaposed against those few incredible and irrepressible moments of euphoric clarity, like poking my head above the clouds for a split second before my own self-pity dragged me back down to earth. My musical idea is to take a particular moment in each year, or a year's impression, and use a song to show that point in my own history. Some of those years' defining moments were awesome, and some were scrape-your-face-in-the-dirt-awful. Some were filled with despair, some with incredible revelation. So while much of this music is much better in the fact that it's more personal, some of it seems bleak. However, like all of us, we must take these life-snapshots in the context of the entire story. I'm a little afraid people will take songs out of the context of the entire album, like taking one scene in a movie as its own unit, unrelated to the rest of the story.

Anyway, I've been working on writing some new lyrics, and noticed that some of them are more hopeless than anything I've ever written for public viewing. But in the context of my life, these dark times defined where my life was to go, not where it was to stay. It's the contrasts in life that make the good times good. Without the bad, how would we know what was truly good? Or WHO was good? Think about it.

Extra free Young Dubliners

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I would like to say that a Sunday afternoon in Bend with a free concert is awesome. A free concert with the Young Dubliners is stinkin' awesome! Traditional Irish music fused with rock. Oh man. So good. Plus, the guy playing whistles and uilleann pipes is the same guy who was the featured soloist on the scores for Braveheart and Titanic. He busted out a little Braveheart at one point, and I thought that my goosebumps might become so intense that my pores would stay that way permanently. Fortunately, with a little coaxing, they subsided to a normal level after a couple minutes. I'm one of the few guys I know who's a sucker for celtic music, so to hear it played so energetically and tightly was awesome. And it was free. Daylan and I even rode our bikes there, so it was extra free. Good stuff.

Update

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Guten tag meine freunde

My apologies for the previous entry (or next one if you're reading from the top of the page down). Every now and again I feel the need to rant about something silly.

So a couple weeks ago I moved to Bend, Oregon from Portland, a stepping stone of a move before I head out to Orlando, and then to Thailand. The day after I moved the lion's share of my belongings to Bend, I drove to Seattle to pick up sister Daylan and friend Kendra at the SeaTac airport. They had just come in from London/Kenya and driving the distance saved a lot of money for the both of them. That was on a Monday. On Wednesday Daylan and I drove out to a friend's wedding in Heyburn, Idaho, another nine or ten hour drive. We got back Sunday night, and starting Monday I worked on editing the video I had taken at the wedding. The next couple days were spent working on the video stuff and trying not to be overwhelmed by the load of stuff in my parent's garage waiting to be unloaded. Found a great coffee shop here called Thump that serves Stumptown, so I can rest easy knowing my coffee snobbery can be satiated at least every now and again.

At the same coffee shop I accidentally met up with the guy who was going to give me some work, an arrangement that hadn't been solidified, but was close. So we worked it out that I'll be working as a sort of sub-contractor delivering his rental A/V gear and providing my own video production skills on top of it. So basically I'll be sort of self-employed and be able to have super flexible hours, which is great. We'll see if I can make any money with this. So anyway, that's the long and short of it, I think. Waiting for God to provide the support I need to go out with Pioneers. Oh, and support letters are soon on their way. Again, if you wish to receive one, email your mailing addy to me at daynarnold@gmail.com.

Vielen dank und auf wiedersehen

Co-dependency and the dysfunctional couple: a study of frustration in the twenty-something American male

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So I'm continuing to wonder what ever happened to certain social norms, little courtesies that I don't notice when they're being practiced, but REALLY notice when they're not. And yes, I most certainly do have a specific incidence in mind. Thanks for asking.

So there's a coffee shop I like to frequent due to its power-packed duo of great Stumptown coffee and convenient proximity to my home in Portland. The Bipartisan Cafe is not one of those uber-trendy coffeetoriums wherein all patrons have carefully coiffed bed-head, wear the latest in anti-mainstream garb, listen to "indie" music on their iPhone which is syncing "This American Life" from their black MacBook. (Though I'm now one of those Mac users and just got some snazzy new trendy-looking glasses, so I'm teetering on the fence of hypocrisy. Fortunately I am good at balancing on narrow things like fences... Boy it's been a while since I allowed myself these sorts of rabbit trails. How I've missed them... And the usage of three consecutive periods... Over... And... Over...) So most days after work, I stop by Bipartisan for a cup of coffee with my laptop and decompress for a couple hours by emailing, chatting, and simply wasting time before I head home for dinner. It's an enjoyable and relaxing time that I can either use to accomplish real tasks or just waste time. Well, it's enjoyable UNTIL this one particular couple comes in.

I don't know these people, names or anything, but somehow they often end up sitting in a nearby table. Mind you, I may complain in my blog about certain people, but generally it's pretty tongue-in-cheek. These things don't really bother me for the most part. It's just fun to play the sarcastic curmudgeon. (I've discovered, though, that in certain Christian circles, talking about people like this can all be excused with one little phrase: "Bless his/her/their heart," though I'm not convinced of the true totality of forgiveness afforded by one phrase.) However, these two people actually DO bother me a bit, which will make playing the sarcastic curmudgeon a little more natural. So the man in this couple is probably in his late fifties, early sixties, with a lefty earring, slicked back mostly-gray hair, and a short-cut gray goatee. One of those guys who wears intentionally-faded tee shirts under an unbuttoned button-up shirt. Kind of a greasy, smooth-talking playboy. The female counterpart looks to be in her mid to late thirties, business casual, usually looks like she had just come off of a day at work, something office-related. Not a completely unlikely pair despite what appears to be a significant age discrepancy between them. They LOOK like they'd just come in for come coffee and chit chat.

So on a typical day they're in there, like the other day, they'll come in, order their caffeinated drinks and sit obnoxiously close to my table... and proceed to make-out for a minute or so. Now, I don't know when THAT became socially acceptable, let alone Dayn-acceptable in such close proximity. So they go at it for a while, not Dayn- acceptable, then share within-earshot-sweet-nothings talking with their faces fractions away from each other, undoubtedly staring passionately into each other's eyes. All of this at a convenient distance of three feet, or within throwing-up distance, if you prefer a relative term.

After this time of greeting, they settle into a dialogue about the matters of the day. Yesterday, for example, I got to hear a discussion about how on their last bike ride, her bike seemed to be broken, and he kept leaving her in the dust, making her paranoid that he was going to forget she was biking behind him altogether. This discussion never quite becomes heated, but gets awfully close as she grows more and more frustrated with him and the bike she had been riding. This is certainly the adult conversation I would expect from the grandpa-granddaughter lovers sitting within my shared-bodyheat-zone. So then, when she's expressing any sort of frustration, he leans in and erases her anxiety by initiating another make-out session. Good grief. Tantamount pictures presents, in association with Awkward Proximity Pictures, "Healthy Relations 101." On that same day, the conversation took an ironic turn as the two of them discussed a twenty-something couple they know who were a little too "lovey dovey" in a dinner party kind of setting, which was obviously due to their immaturity, being so young, you know. (I've had this discussion before, but there really should be a type-setting which denotes sarcasm. Come on English language!)

Anyway, this goes on for an hour or so, long enough to negate any sort of relaxation I may have achieved in my after work decompression time. I just don't understand when this all became standard behavior for anyone. Obnoxious and just a little creepy. Nothing like watching two middle-aged co-dependents not communicate, unless they can somehow speak through their saliva. Gross. Bless their hearts.

The latest scoop...

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So last Friday I had a phone conversation with two members of the Pioneers communication team, and got some clarification for what's coming up for me. So here's the revised plan... well, the only solid plan so far. So once I raise the support I need, prayer and financial, I will be moving to Orlando to begin doing video work state-side. I have some training to do, at least one survey-trip, and there's already some work lined up for me to work on once I get there. There appear to be some timing issues with going straight to Thailand, my ultimate destination, which means I will be in Orlando for a bit before I can make a home overseas. However, I'm very excited things have worked out this way. This will allow me to build relationships with more of the Pioneers people in Orlando, especially the people heading up my team, CommNet. Right now I still don't have a real figure for how much monetary support to raise, but I definitely need at least 100 prayer partners before I can head out. I should have my prayer letter approved this week, which means that any of you can get one if you so desire. If you would like to be a part of the team, send me an email at daynarnold@gmail.com and I'll get you hooked up ASAP. It's coming, and I'm stoked about it. Cheers.

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So I decided that I was tired of hoarding my film Bible Camp, and have cut it into bite-sized pieces and posted it on youtube. Now everyone and their mom, assuming she's technologically savvy, can watch this thing for free, unless they want a DVD copy, in which case there's a link to it on each video's page. That is all.

All love guard in

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Has anyone else ever noticed that Olive Garden commercials all look like they're heading for a moderately-funny punchline, but never pan out? I think maybe they have two writers, one funny guy, and one jealous and slightly more powerful guy. The joke guy submits the script, and the jealous guy edits them all with a pair of scissors at the last minute. Maybe?

Neck Sweaters Be Gone!

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News flash: my days of aspiring to grow my hair out like the mane of a Yanni are over. I actually was able to donate my semi-permanent neck-sweater to Locks of Love, an organization that uses donations of hair to make wigs for kids undergoing chemotherapy who can't afford a good wig. And now I feel lighter and cooler, which makes me practically giddy. Tee hee.

They should be called adolts...

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The older I get, the more I'm convinced that the vast majority of adults in America are nothing more than oversized children; petty, conniving, irreverent little babies. The end.

Planet Earth

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While I haven't seen all of BBC's Planet Earth mini series, I've seen enough to know it's incredible. And for those of you looking for some new inspiring non-lyrical music to listen to, I highly recommend the Planet Earth soundtrack. (Amazon MP3, $14 for the two-disc set) Each song is from a different subject, which makes for an intense sampling of inspiration without the obligation of listening to the entire score beginning to end every time. (Well, maybe y'all don't have the problem, but there are certain albums that I feel obligated to listen to them beginning to end because of the interwoven themes and such. I feel that if the composer put it all together as a whole piece, it should be listened to as an whole piece.) Anyway, it's like a sampler of soundtrack music, the best of a bunch of different scores, a cinematic soundscape for those unfamiliar with this particular musical ground. It's delicious.

The inbetweens

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I hate being in those inbetween stages in life, where investing in something long-term is probably not the wisest investment, and yet you could really use it in the near future. Case in point, I bought my current bike in 2000. It's a TREK with a 23.5 inch frame, which is hard to find. Most bikes only go as high as 22 inches, and since I'm relatively tall, this bike has served me well. In an effort to keep the frame itself, I've replaced just about everything else on it. Basically I've put several thousand miles on it, and it's getting tired, despite the occasional replaced/upgraded part. It's been a stalwart friend and companion. And now it's causing me grief.

I have been using it for transport to and from work for the last six weeks or so, which has been good on so many levels. If I don't bike for a while, I forget how much I love it, which is exactly what had happened up until recently. Well, my faithful friend is getting old. For some reason I've gotten four flats in two weeks, an aggravating ratio of flat tires to weeks. I think there's an issue with the actual metal of the wheels shearing off and popping brand new tubes. It's been about two and a half years since I last had a tune-up, but I just don't often feel I can spare the $50-$75 dollars a tune-up tends to cost. So now I'm looking at a $150 bill to get my bike passably fixed, and $210 to get it back to full power. If you take the original cost of the bike, I've easily spent twice that getting it to continue working for the last 8 years. So now I'm really wanting a new bike. Except that I'll probably only be in the country for another six to nine months before heading overseas. Maybe I could take it with me, but that may be unrealistic. Seems that's how everything is for me now. Do I really need this for the next however-many-months? I'm considering biking the Oregon coast this September, in which case, a new bike would be a great help... *sigh* What to do, what to do...

Persepolis

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So most of the movies I see in the theater are at the theater less than a mile from my house It's one of those $3 theaters with a few screens, pizza, and beer. After being a total Bear Tooth junkie for a couple years, I've had a hard time shelling out $10+ for a movie I can see for a third the price if I'm just patient. Plus, this theater will occasionally show art-house movies, foreign films, and classic films. I all truth, Portland has no shortage of cheap or off the beaten path theaters, and if I wanted to see a different off-brand movie every night, I probably could. But this theater is just down the street, takes about 4 minutes to ride my bike there, and I like that. (And any place around here that feels familiar is a good place for me. It's still not really home here...)

So I saw Persepolis last weekend. Persepolis is a French film which tackled the animation of a series of graphic novels by Marjane Satrapi, an Iranian woman currently living in Paris. Marjane Satrapi's graphic novel duo, Persepolis, and Persepolis 2, are autobiographical in nature, covering her childhood amidst revolution, time at school in Austria, and growth into womanhood. It is a story about idealism, disillusionment, and realism, a common life-story told through extreme circumstances.

Before you read on, just know that I do recommend seeing this film. It was a fresh perspective on life, filled with animated realism. However, if you do not wish to have your perceptions changed before you get a chance to see it for yourself, do not read on.

SPOILERS ALERT!

The more I think about the film, the more I like it, but my initial reaction to the film was mixed. First of all, and strictly on the surface, I don't really care for the illustration/animation style. There is somewhat of an elegant simplicity to the un-textured characters among simple backgrounds, but the drawings themselves weren't exactly the kind of drawings I would seek out. There were several sections where the main character goes through energetic, somewhat rebellious periods, in which the animation changed to exaggerate that energy. These energetic sections were my favorite parts, the animation taking on a fluidity and character that seemed fresh in the context of the entire film. But overall the style itself was not the kind of animation I seek out.

This film was originally voiced in French, and in the version I saw, it had been re-dubbed in English. Generally re-dubbing is easier to get away with in animation as the mouths of characters aren't ever 100% accurate anyway. However, I think I would have rather seen the film in the original French with English subs. I feel like a couple of the character's English voices were poorly chosen, particularly that of Sean Penn, the voice of the main character's father. I suppose it would have taken away from the visuals of the film to have to read subtitles, but I really think I would have preferred it.

One interesting perspective I enjoyed was with regard to the political themes and ideals which are a huge part of the film. The main family are communist, which creates a problem when the Taliban government is put in place. I feel like I've been conditioned so much to think that democracy is the end all political system, that America, shining example of healthy government that it is, is the end all of political systems. So to see a family whose passion and obsession is communist just seems so backwards, and yet there must be validity there. Not that I think Communism is my preferred form of government, but our consumeristic "democracy" seems a far cry from healthy and a far cry from Biblically sound leadership. Persepolis affords at least a tiny glimpse at the other side of the coin.

I also had a mixed reaction to the start of the film because for the first half-hour or more the film feels like a history lesson on Tehran and Iranian culture. While I found that interesting, I was really hoping for something more. I always feel like animation has such huge potential to bring us to amazing places, and a history lesson almost seemed below its capabilities. However, it was pretty cool to hear about real life in Tehran amidst the potentially positive political revolution, but which turned sour once the Taliban was fully in power.

Personally, I like a movie that doesn't always give you a tidy formulaic ending, if only because that's how life is. But at the same time, movies can be great because they don't have to reflect real life. They can go anywhere and do anything, and be idealistic if they want to be. Persepolis isn't idealistic. At all. The story ends, and while the main character has changed and grown as a person, it was hard to tell if her life's path had taken her forward or merely further off to the side without much forward movement, like swimming against a current. So I don't really know if I liked the ending, but I'm not sure I disliked it either. And maybe that was the kind of reaction the film was trying to get.

So all in all, Persepolis is certainly worth seeing, a portrait of humanity amidst the rubble of a broken nation, though perhaps it's not as incredible as many critics would have you believe. But then again, I'm acting as a critic of sorts for the moment, so take this all with a grain of salt.

It's coming...

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So I guess I'm doomed to approach things creatively... and I mean that in whichever way saves me the most face and keeps me from seeming like a pompous jerk-wad. So maybe in a retractive way. We'll see.

So at my final showing of Bible Camp I made an announcement that I was pursuing a position with Pioneers, and that I was hoping to approach at least part of the support-raising in my own way (as suggested by Mr. Mike Sheldon.) In mid-July we will begin recording my first album, having stolen a creative structure from my last nine years floating through life. All the proceeds from the album will go toward my support in Pioneers. It'll end up being about half music I've already written/recorded and sent out to many of y'all over the years, and half music I've yet to write. It's very exciting, and daunting, but I'm excited for a different kind of creative challenge. So in mid-October look for the album only for sale online, places like iTunes and Amazon MP3 (little plug, I love Amazon MP3. Cheaper than iTunes, great selection, etc...) So there it is. Tell your neighbors, tell your mailman. It's coming.

It's finally here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Well, finally the news everyone has been waiting for. I am now officially an appointee with Pioneers. So now I get to start figuring out all the details of raising support, what my position will look like, and everything else. I'm planning on joining a team called ComNet whose objective is to tell stories in the field using media such as video, photography, writing, graphic design, and anything else that might help communicate real life stories. For me, this is an incredibly exciting time, as I finally begin to learn what God has had in the works for me over the last decade or so. I have purpose and direction, and it couldn't be sweeter. Oh, and a huge plug for Pioneers, if you're looking for a mission organization that can use your specific talents and giftings, Pioneers is the place. If you're looking for a rigidly structured, hierarchical organization that will TELL you where you will be used, Pioneers is probably NOT the place for you. This week in Orlando getting to know the staff, and vice versa, has been invaluable. What an amazing colleciton of really neat people! (For more info, go to www.pioneers.org or contact me.) So in the next day or so I will have my Pioneers account number, and if any of you would be interested in more than prayer support, any sort of donation can be taken, once I provide a couple more details.

So it looks like I'll be stationed in Turkey or Thailand, and from there will be sent on assignments to areas within that larger region. So Turkey would provide access to Western and Eastern Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. Thailand would provide access to most of Asia. From what I've heard, there will be no shortage of interest in media as a communicator, and I will be busy all the time, which sounds good to me. As for when I could leave, it's hard to say without having raised support and finished some of the other requirements of my appointment. But the start is nearer now than it's ever felt before, and I couldn't be more thrilled about it. Most of you can expect that I'll be getting in contact with you all in a less impersonal way than a blog... like a mass email or some sort of elaborate set up of lanterns and morse code, only communicated at dusk from the bow of a ship anchored offshore in a North by Northwesterly direction... Ta for now.

And then it was done

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So first of all, thank you to the handful of people who have been uncontrollably supportive of my film endeavor. It's been a rapidly slow-moving journey, full of unexpected turns of events, frustrations, and victories, an age of personal growth. A sort of microcosm of the real world, the great moments being tempered by frustrations and difficulties. And now it's over. At least that's what I'm saying right now. Definitive statements have a way of biting me in the backside.

So I came back to AK to show "Bible Camp" in Anchorage again, the idea being that I heard from quite a few people who had been disappointed about missing the other showing, and wanted to make it available again. So I rented the Abbott Loop auditorium again, this time three months in advance, got a completely new poster/postcard/trailer idea (courtesy of Greger Wright and Jessica Clark), created a new trailer, updated the old ones, had posters/cards printed, and put together promotional packages for churches in the Anchorage area. The packages even has a DVD with the trailers, further information, and a clip from the film. It was another huge time investment, but well worth it since it would allow a broader audience to hear about it and come and support the film and ministry. Everything was looking much better this time around than the last, especially the timing, not at holiday time, not in conjunction with any major Anchorage events, and also during my spring break. The stars had aligned, and all was perfectly in line for beating my previous showing's meager 35+ audience.



Twenty-five people showed up.



I was pretty excited about the day, so at the time I was totally cool. People were generous with their giving, and I got more very positive responses from the attendees. I even pretty much broke even, so ultimately things went fairly well even from a financial standpoint. I knew, however, that for the next few days I would have a hard time thinking of anything but how disappointed I had been in the turnout. Was all the work worth it? I spent hours upon hours redesigning, calling pastors, burning DVDs, calling pastors again, scheduling, praying about it all, and 25 people showed up. That's what I knew I'd be expecting in the coming days. But it never really came to that.

I don't know where this sort of optimistic outlook on life has come from, but I honestly didn't perseverate on the downers of the small group I hosted at Abbott Loop. Sure there was a little disappointment that certain people didn't come, that there was far less support than I was expecting, but overall the exact right people showed up. Not only my fan-club of a group of friends, but some real key people in Alaska ministry, and some truly generous people whose giving was far more than I could have expected. Jack and Mary Lou Bacher later sent me a check which covers my Pioneers orientation fees, which is an astonishing blessing, certainly a miracle I didn't expect. The outpouring of love I received from the people there was incredible, and I consider it a privilege to have experienced joy from disappointment. I have more to say, but it'll have to wait for another blog. My further comments are of a less optimistic nature, a bit of chastising, so I'll save it for another time. But yeah, I guess I'm continuing to grow up despite my best efforts to stunt my own growth. Something like spiritual puberty, maybe. Oh man, there are so many mostly-inappropriate jokes I'm thinking about now. Uh, okay, so maybe not spiritual puberty... Uh, *voice crack*... [awkward pause] see you later.

Soppnerism? Sort of, but not quite.

So I was doing a bit of typing today and when writing the word "opportunity," I accidentally transposed my o's and p's. I kind of giggled to myself as I sat in a coffee shop surrounded by strangers.

Just thought I'd take this pooprtunity to let you all know.

Bros before schmos

So I have a new band I'm in love with. This doesn't happen all that often as I'm pretty picky about the kind of music I'll listen to 15 or 20 times in a week's span. The music I become obsessed with has to have a balance of instrumental and vocal performance (or no vocals at all works well), and a pleasing mix of virtuosity and accessibility. Now of course, certain albums have snuck past the gatekeeper (John Mayer's Continuum is one that immediately comes to mind) So if your qualifications are in any way similar to mine you might also love this new band: Punch Brothers. Their first album, released a week and a half ago is aptly called "Punch."

The frontman for the freshly-formed Punch Brothers is Nickel Creek mandolin virtuoso Chris Thile (Thee-lee), one of my favorite musicians in recent years. Actually, to be honest I get a little jealous of people my age who have such amazing levels of success, but it's so danged good. If you're a fan of Bela Fleck, Edgar Meyer, Chris Thile, Newgrass Revival, Nickel Creek, Tony Trischka, music, art, sweaters, cats, Precious Moments Figurines, guano, spelunking, historical-fiction, or crepes, you just might like these guys.

Oh, and I wasn't exaggerating about 15 or 20 times in the last week. It's been something like that. Mmmmmm... meaty music with emotion and intellect... delicious.

"Come on... You can do it... Just a little bit more... A little bit more... Almost there... Almost... there..."

So one of the hard parts of my job is that I have to be really careful about talking about the students. There are certain confidentiality issues that can not be breached, and in the interest of complying, I'll tell you a completely anonymous story about a student, a human male or female or hermaphrodite, of school age at the public or private school I work at nestled comfortably at the edge of a Western Hemisphere ghetto. This particular unit was having a particularly difficult morning, and was having a hard time engaging itself in our class's morning check-in time, wherein all units and educational facilitators describe how they are feeling at the moment, something they did the night before, and a goal they have for the day. This particular unit often has a hard time pulling itself together in the morning, and in a frustrated state will put its head down on its desk and refuse to get up. In an effort to encourage said unit to sit up and engage in check-in, I leaned in closer, lending a stream of encouraging words to its ear in the hopes that its spirits would be raised to an adequate degree of functionality. As I spoke, the unit began his own stream of encouragements, each phrase said slowly and deliberately, likened unto a scene from any number of Disney sports movies where the crushed hero is raised from the edge of despair by a single clap which slowly and deliberately leads to an entire stadium, city, county, state, region, nation and hemisphere taking on that applause with great gusto, thereby encouraging the hero to take up his burden and complete the task. This was the gist of this unit's self-encouragement. (Note: To be read extremely slowly, each phrase being raised in pitch as it reaches any punctuation, in the exact fashion an educator would encourage an emotionally fragile student, male, female, or hermaphrodite.)

"Come on... You can do it... Just a little bit more... A little bit more... Almost there... Almost... there..."

And all the while the unit is slowly raising itself off of its desk in the exact position it had started with, arms crossed, forehead pressed against the arms. It was perhaps one of the funniest things I've seen in the last couple months. Yeah, Disney certainly doesn't have a death-grip on the minds of children, and certainly not to the end that emotions are learned by watching a screen instead of direct interaction with real people... But that's a different blog entirely...

ONE LAST HURRAH!!!

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So I'm back at it again. And I think it's going to be for the last time. I'm arranging one last showing of "Bible Camp" at Abbott Loop in Anchorage, March 28, 7pm. Well, I've already arranged it, and am pretty much ready to go with everything. Just need to put some things together, and I'll be all ready to go with plenty of time to spare. So here's the thing, I need as many proponents with all this as I can get. I have three freshly updated trailers, a new 6 minute featurette where I actually sit IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA and explain why I made this DVD, and how important it is for people in Alaska to take care of their own. These are all posted on youtube, at www.myspace.com/BibleCampDVD , and will be available on a special DVD, which will also include a 4 minute clip from the full-length DVD. I need y'all to talk to the people at your church and tell them you can get a DVD with all the info they'd need, posters and fliers to hang, and a butt-load of postcards as a way to support ministry in the interior (and also Christian documentary filmmaking, eh?). Seriously, let's get on the ball with all this. It'll all be available in Alaska within the week if you wish to hand-deliver the goods. Tell your friends, tell your family, tell your congressman, tell your mailman, tell your grocer (is there such a thing anymore?) Tell people to go to the Bible Camp myspace page (www.myspace.com/BibleCampDVD) and become a friend, and go onto youtube and subscribe to my channel, or at least take a look at it. I no longer have the energy or resources to keep doing this, as it's certainly not bringing in enough capital to keep it going, so I'm planning on making this my last showing, at least the last one I organize myself. It's time to move forward, but not without one last hurrah. So mark it on your calendar, March 28, 7pm, Abbott Loop. Last chance to see it on a big screen, and let me tell you, it looks pretty sweet on the screen at Abbott Loop. Anyway, there it is. Enjoy.