life of trevor

The question was posed, “What do you expect from this trip?” Everyone had to answer the question. Most people seemed to [Read more →]

I arrived in Greenville at one o’clock last night. I went to bed at around three, which is in keeping with my recent schedule. I was doing pretty good during break until [Read more →]

Here’s a Christmas song that I recorded for you. Well, more for me, really. But you can have a copy if you like.

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The title of this post has little (or nothing) to do with what is written in it. It has more to do with the song.

My size, please. Oh. These are too small. Bigger. These fit. Wait; they do have hockey skates? I’ll take two. My shins are wobbly. Smaller, please. My size fits now.

I’m here with a lot of people, but some of the time I feel like I’m skating alone most of the time. Strange how that works. How do you skate with someone, though?

I see couples. They hold hands, for better or for worse. Worse, often.

Some of the kids know how to skate together, too. See that one? He darts toward his friend to knock him over. He’s the one who falls. Both laugh. I almost fall over, too.

The other kids don’t know how to skate together. They stay by the side, alone. You can see the thought bubbles: “If I move, I’ll fall.” Then they fall over anyway.

Oh my friends, I’ve begun to worry right where I should be grateful. I should be satisfied. But my heart is returned to sister winter; but my heart is cold as ice. All my friends, I’ve returned to sister winter; I apologize, apologize.

I read The Golden Compass, and now I’m getting sucked into the marketing of the movie. I did this quiz thing on the movie’s website that said it would tell me about my dæmon. And then it gave me a link to give to my friends. It said that my friends would help me make sure I got the right dæmon. You’re my friend, right?

As of now, my dæmon is an ocelot named Arphenia. After twelve days, she’ll settle on her final form. Until then, you can contribute to her transformations and help make sure she settles properly. If you want to. (And if you take the quiz to get your own dæmon, let me know.)

Yes, I am temporarily obsessed with (slash “enjoying”) this particular fantasy world. No, I’m not becoming an atheist. Also, I think the idea of a boycott is downright silly.

P.S. If you’re looking forward to the movie as much as I am, it may interest you to know that there’s a five minute trailer out there.

I dreamed that I had an iPhone. This was strange to me, given that I wouldn’t buy one. [Read more →]

Here’s one thing I did not manage to capture in my own pictures: Paul Meany doing a handstand jump thing on his Rhodes. After a few of those, he flipped all the way over it. That was the point in the show where equipment really started flying.

Combining the handstand jump thing with the amount of time he spent using the Rhodes as a platform, I couldn’t help but wonder if it ever gave out. [Read more →]

I felt like a complete idiot for not taking my real camera. My thinking went something along the lines of, “Pictures of shows are always the same: ‘Look, there in the distance; a stage with some people standing on it. And there are lights.’” Not so with Mute Math.

Fortunately, I had my cell phone with me. Cell phone pictures are better than no pictures. They’re on Picasa now. I’ll put them on Facebook later.

I’m responsible. I get things done. I don’t usually forget about assignments. I usually get pretty good grades. I do “enough.” I do what I need to do. I get by. I am commended for it.

I don’t want to get by. I want to do more than get by. I want to do things, but I never get around to them because I don’t “need” to do them. I do “need” to do my homework, to hang out with my friends, to clean my room, to eat, to check my email, to reject the newest thirty-five application invitations on Facebook, to filter through the DSTUDENT emails in my inbox.

My friend Charlie, he writes songs. He raps. He makes beats. He lays down tracks. He has a band. They get together and make things happen.

I had a band. It wasn’t working. We weren’t meshing. I decided to “go solo,” so to speak. And then I didn’t do anything. Maybe a smidgen of songwriting here and there, but have I recorded anything? Have I played any shows? Have I booked any shows?

My friend Danny, he makes film. He knows beauty. He finds beauty. He captures it in a lens and puts it on a screen.

I have all of the equipment I need. I probably have the time, too, if I would just open my eyes. Why is my microphone never plugged in? Why am I not doing?

My friend Brock, he loves. He has passion I could only hope for; passion I could only hide under layers of timidity and complacency.

I’ve heard it said that whether you waste a man’s time or take his life outright, you have committed the same crime. It differs only in degree. By that logic, I’m committing suicide. I know that we’re called to die every day, but we are called also to live. What am I doing with my life?

Why am I so afraid of failing that I can’t do a thing to begin with? Why do I spend all of my time trying to figure out how I want to do something instead of just doing it? And why am I so afraid of what people will think of my music that I don’t want them to hear it?

I’m tired of collecting nouns and adjectives to myself. I need more verbs.

May the favor of the Lord my God rest upon me;
establish the work of my hands for me—
yes, establish the work of my hands.

I don’t know what to think. I’m not going to use the “read more” links for a bit. I’m chalking it up to my desire to seek approval from others. I guess I’ll just see how it goes.