Sally is actually Sandy

I don't like new years. Along with everything else I have opinions on, my opinion for new years is wet with apathy and cynicism. WET. Just sopping. Anyways, here's some random thoughts about this year, some of them not so soggy.

Jan-April is sort of a black hole of depression in my mind where I remember very few things. I did meet one of my favorite people in MN/world in March-ish(?). Shout out to D-Cat Davis.

In May the sound of jazz pulled me from said black hole and it was glorious.

In June I moved into a house with a bunch of people I didn't know, some of them have since moved out and been replaced by others, but I truly love it here and the people I live with.

July-Spetember is all kind of bland in my brain for some reason. Something neat might have happened, but not neat enough to remember.

In October I got kicked out of a country, met another favorite human who now plays drums in Ancient Mariner, and felt very displaced during a brief visit to CO.

In November the morning didn't roar. I awoke to the sound of nothing.

In December I found out I have been calling one of my regular customers the wrong name since I returned from my month hiatus in October. New Years resolution: figure out how to remember people's names.

Here's one of my favorite songs I heard all year:

That's also probably my favorite album of the year, but I didn't have the money to buy most of the music I wanted to, so who knows what I missed out on?

My favorite non-Tolkien book I read was East Of Eden. It blew my gourd. Thou mayest.

I read the Silmarillion for the first time, not as daunting as I expected, way more beautiful than I thought it would be.

I asked out a total of 2 ladies. Both said yes. I went on zero dates.

I wrote lots of songs, and threw away most of them. Of the ones I kept, most will be part of a full length album I hope to have written by March.

That's my year. Here's to the next one I guess? Tomorrow is just another day.

Gabriel

Peanut Butter Super Volcano

I like peanut butter. 

For those who don't know me, this is a pretty radical thing. For those who do know me, they probably still wouldn't notice how radical it is because it's overall kind of trivial and silly, and therefor one of the things that my mind chooses to analyze and retell over and over to everyone because I think it's important.

It's radical because I've hated peanut butter for the last 17 years of my life. I remember very vividly eating a PBJ when I was 5-ish and thinking, "I hate this" and I never looked back. I had eaten it maybe twice since then, and it was on backpacking trips when I'm not allowed to complain about food selections. Then, last week, I felt an odd craving for that suffocating substance that millions adore. I knew exactly where I could get it with little personal sacrifice(I'm poor) and test this craving.

When I got home I raided my housemate's cupboard for peanut butter and honey and made a sandwich that felt a lot like betrayal to who I was, and tasted a lot like freedom.

The next day I was consumed again by craving, and for the last 3 hours of work it was all I could think about. Peanut butter. I could taste it on my tongue. I had awoken some dormant hunger that was now surging and rising, an unstoppable super volcano of terrifying power that would tear me apart if I didn't get it immediately. Such is the nature of cravings, even for something as inconsequential as peanut butter.

I spent my tips that day on a loaf of bread and the first jar of PB that I would ever purchase.

I used to hate coffee too. It was a different sort of scenario. I wanted to like coffee(unlike peanut butter) because it smelled good and I'd probably feel cool while drinking it. And boy do I. But I remember a friend telling me that I would only start enjoying coffee when I absolutely needed it. The first cup of coffee I ever enjoyed was before my 3rd straight opening shift at Panera. Nothing ever tasted so good or hopeful at 5 in the morning.

I had pondered forcing myself to eat peanut butter before, whether I liked it or not, simply because it's cheap, filling, apparently at least sort of good for you, and I'd like to not die of hunger this winter. I doubt it would have lasted though. Knowing that I need something isn't enough for me. I have to want it, as much as I wanted to love coffee. My pining for coffee meant nothing 'til I felt the urgent need for it.

Necessity and longing very rarely meet with equal power and passion in my mind, and I remain static and unchanged because of it. I've had peanut butter every day since last monday, and every day I approach it with caution, feeling slightly giddy and slightly ashamed as I spread the peanut butter across my bread. The first bite is always very skeptical, and each one that follows becomes a little less so as hunger leaves my body.

As usual I have no idea how to tie this up, but I have this stupid analogy and I feel like I should ride it till it falls, and then beat the snot out of it, because that's what blogging is all about! I've been trying to change who I am for 3 years, to become someone better. Inspired and inspiring, good inside and out. I can't grasp it. The results taste like bitter coffee and stick like peanut butter, constricting the mouth, and I'm tired of trying. There's little sense of need anymore, and my longings lay in idle hands.

Gabriel

Swirl Cone

This is a picture of my brain.

It looks pleasant enough, but that swirl cone is actually a torrent of chocolate-y self hate and sweet vanilla self pity on a cheap cone of sarcasm that tastes like nothing. And I suppose for the purposes of fully utilizing the picture, we'll say the red backround is my murderous rage or insatiable hunger for enchiladas.

I think on the outside I'm a pretty indifferent human being(and on the inside just a bit... maybe that's what the cone is made of... indifference). I do my best to avoid confrontation and drama. I seem to emit 2 emotions, one sounds like laughter and comes from feelings of delight, and the other is a quiet brooding that makes me look super thoughtful. Otherwise I'm a robot. But on the inside is this hilarious soap opera of enormous emotional anxiety where I'm surely always the victim. I exaggerate my struggles and circumstances greatly in my brain, and sometimes in conversation with those unlucky humans who are close to me.

I doubt I'm the only person who does this, but my swirl cone brain combats these thoughts of victimization(v for vanilla) with things like "Hey idiot, stop feeling bad for yourself, there are so many people with worse problems than you!". Vanilla then responds with things like "Gah! You're right, I AM an idiot! Woe is me and my general state of being!".  Then an extra fun level of irony(maybe rainbow sprinkles?) sets on where I pity my problems of self pity and self hate and write an absurd blog about it. None of it makes any sense and it makes a huge mess. But at least it tastes like ice cream.

I don't really have a takeaway for this. I've never been a swirl cone guy in reality. Simplicity tastes better to me.  Maybe whatever dispenses my soul/brain/heart ice cream will break from overuse and only spew out one flavor, and then I can deal with that head on. That sounds an awful lot like hitting rock bottom and I don't know what that looks like for me. Which is terrifying, but apparently good things can happen afterwards.

Or maybe someone could spill a bunch of strawberry flavoring into my dispensary and something totally new and awesome could come out. Red like the blood of Christ. BOOM. I'm so clever. The cone is for cleverness.

But the ice cream dispenser seems to be sealed shut and running at unprecedented levels, and self glorified sarcastic cleverness just makes you look like an ass.

Till next time
Vomit Swirl Cone Gabriel

Vomit Gabriel

Hey! Have we met? I'm Gabriel.

I grew up as a christian, which basically means nothing other than I have a slightly heightened level of paranoia and a fair amount to ponder with my delightfully over analytical brain. Oh the times we've had together!

Quick note before I move on, Doubting Thomas by Nickel Creek just came on. Whatever THAT means.

I don't believe in God about 50% of the time. And this isn't a thing to try and prove or disprove His existence, cause frankly that bores me. But I still have the mind to capitalize the "h" in "His", so I'm not a total heathen just yet. Who knows what would happen if I didn't use the due punctuation there?

My main issue with this... issue... is that I'm sitting at that 50% mark. I almost don't care whether I'm right or wrong. I'd just like to commit to one side fully, cause the middle ground is exhausting. Nobody likes dudes in the middle ground. I sure don't. Jesus doesn't seem to. Revelation 3:16 "So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I am going to vomit you out of My mouth."

Let me just say that I truly love that my translation says "vomit". I always heard "spit" growing up, this gives it an extra smack(ew) of intensity. I think logically the easier thing for me to do is to just go the opposite way of religion or spirituality or whatever. Turns out that's kind of tricky, because I totally tried that this past winter. I disintegrate into an even lamer version of myself that seems even more lukewarm rather than "hot". Or "cold". Or whatever "not christian" is on the temperature scale.

I think if I ever came to a point where I actually decided to renounce everything I believe, I would just settle in for a long nap til the robocalypse briefly awakens then ends me. What else would I do? Go on a sex rampage? Burn something down? Cure cancer with my finally liberated brain? Fight... crime for the sake of... science? I'm not hot or cold enough for those things. Really worse things could happen if God isn't real. We die and that's it. I can handle that. It's the living up until that point that I have trouble grappling with. In my mind, everything would in the long run be totally pointless. And because I am the absurd human that I am, I would probably end up taking that leave to be a total asshole for the rest of my life.

So what I can say about being a Christian on the flip side of its hefty frustrations, is that I know what I am when I'm not trying to pursue faith. I'm even more lazy, disloyal, dishonest, depressed and unfathomably apathetic. I'm still not sure what I am in Jesus, because I never seem to be able to connect at the level I observe my brothers and sisters connecting. So far it seems I'm at least a more tolerable version of myself, which is probably better for those around me. And I have the need to be better to those around me when I'm the tolerable version of myself, because I sort of feel like there's a point to it all. God or Whatever. So for now, that's where I'm at.

All the sinceres,
(Vomit)Gabriel

This one time I sort of went to London

I forgot I had a blog already in existence. So this saved me a little time. Maybe like 45 seconds of it, seeing as I just had to change the name and URL to something a little more current for me.

Anyhow, I am writing this to hopefully cut down on the annoying amount of repeated conversations I will likely have over the next while. I am currently sitting in Spyhouse, in Minneapolis. Anyone who takes the time to read this will probably know I left for the UK on Saturday with the intentions of playing music for a couple weeks, then leaving from there to Sweden for another couple weeks to hang out with some family.

Clearly something went wrong.

It's a relatively long and boring tale of frustration, sitting, copious amounts of free coffee, interviews, and packing and unpacking my bags too many time for my pleasure. I'll keep it simple, and leave details out that don't need mentioning here(nothing terrible happened, don't you worry).

Basically I was denied access to the UK on the grounds that I needed a Certificate of Sponsorship from someone to legally play any music within the country, even though we were not getting paid for any of the gigs we had set up. So they sent us home. Us being my friend Connor and I. We came in on separate flights, he was being held in a different area in a different terminal. We could talk to each other via pay phone while all this nonsense was happening. Connor and I have only hung out one other time in person about a year and a half ago. This was the closest we had been to each other since that time, in another country, and we never even saw each other. I find that amusing.

As someone who considers(to often self destructive extremes) the reason and purposes of God's movements and will, this forces too many questions for me. My reflex right now is to hide myself away for a bit and pretend I'm still overseas doing neat things. I feel too validated by my musical career, even if it is sort of lackluster. To have everything that I and so many other wonderful people work for suddenly fall apart produces feelings of shame and failure, even if they aren't reasonably grounded.

It's not the end of the world, things could be so much worse in a million different ways. Looking for God's purpose in it all, and for new opportunities. I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands, so that's nice.

Gabriel

P.S. To my friends from work, should you read this, maybe don't tell Rachel that I'm around, I really don't want to go back to work yet.