It's not Hippyism.

The little things in life make me happy, things that other people would otherwise shrug at. A friend of mine works at a GameStop, and his branch was throwing out all the excess lanyards they had. As such, I now have an old Bionic Commando lanyard to hold my school ID from while on campus and at work. I didn't even know there was a game by that title until now. Then again, a google search tells me that it goes for $15 new on PS3, which suggests that I shouldn't know about it. The lanyard makes daily tasks far easier than life without it. I am quite satisfied with this surprise accidental gift.

Earlier while doing sound for an outdoor event on campus, I was thanked for doing sound by one of the speakers. I've been thanked in the past, but never genuinely, and rarely during the event itself. In this case a Vietnam Vet thanked me for making a peace-rally doable, even though I was there mostly for the sake of my job. The appreciation was thick in his voice, and it made me happy to know my work was appreciated. I know it is in most cases, even when it's unsaid. It's just nice to hear. Same way that "I love you," still means a lot in a relationship, even after four years with someone.

The small details are what matters in life, at least for me. Probably you too, even if you don't realize it. Everyone focuses too much on what they think will advance them in society, or what will pay the best, or what will get them the most action with the other sex. They don't realize that no matter how much of a status/money/pussy/dick they get, they won't be happy unless they appreciate the daily things for being daily. Why should I care that you're a raving lunatic over losing a game? I just like the detail that was put into the pieces. Why does it matter that a relationship ended? The flowers are in bloom, and you weren't working anyway.

I appreciate life as best I can, and if everyone else did the same, life would be as beautiful as it potentially could be.

Year of the Black Rainbow Review

A few months back I wrote a blog about my expectations for this album, and I nailed it on the head. Now you're getting a song by song fan review.

One
All Coheed albums have an introduction track. Of them, only "The Reaping" from No World For Tomorrow has had lyrics. It's better this way, the ambient atmosphere building to the opening track always helps build suspense for the overall album. Out of them all, "One" is possibly the worst. It's mostly ambient noise, without much melody to stand on it's own. For each of the other four albums, there is something you can hum about the leads. This one just makes you feel empty. That was the point, story wise, but it doesn't even qualify as a song this time around.

The Broken
Like all other albums in their discography, the pattern continues with a powerful, crowd arousing anthem. "The Broken" is straight forward and heavy, and the unofficial first single. It's the current lead song for concerts, and one of my favorites ever so far. If you had to listen to only one song from this album, it should be "World of Lines." If two, then "The Broken" should be your next number.

Guns of Summer
What's that? We need to show off what the new drummer is capable of? Okay! Guns of Summer has the most ballsy drum line out of any Coheed song so far. While the drums are fucking awesome, the rest of the song is rather... ininspiring. It shows well what they're capable of, but it's not really a very well written song. The chorus is open and free, which contrasts greatly with the insanity in the verses. I'll probably listen to this one less than the others. It seems like it'd be a nice chase scene, or something else with high tension.

Here We Are Juggernaut
Hey, it's a single. It took weeks/months(?) to grow on me, but "Juggernaut" has become one of my favorites of the singles. Initially I loved how diverse and bottom heavy it was, and how uplifting the chorus was, and the bridge, and just about each part individually. I hated how they came together. Maybe it's just weird compositional bridging, or the shift between major and minor. That could explain why the acoustic version is entirely in major, and is one of the best versions of any song they've ever wrote. The album version is good, but it takes time to sink in.

Far
Each album has one of these. The light, usually sappy songs with an airy substance recur, and each is more coherent than the last. "IRO-Bot" was bizarre, "Light and the Glass" was a power-ballad, "Wake Up" was a guilt-trip in major, and "Mother Superior" was too amazing for it's own good. This song has a lot to compete against. It has the benefit of Chris Penne's heavy drum influence to keep it going with an industrial feel, and the dirty guitars playing such a light, melodic piece add an interesting twist to a straight forward song. I like the album version better than the acoustic floating around online. "Far" gets a thumbs up.

This Shattered Symphony
This song is a little too busy for me, and once it's done trying to straighten out it's ADD, I'll be more than happy to review it. I suspect it's a major part of the storyline, but it's nearly my least favorite song on the album. It's heavy, and I suppose the writing isn't terrible, but it sounds too much like it's trying too hard.

World of Lines
I've been dying for this song since they used the instrumental as a background for a studio demo video. It's got a driving tempo and rhythm, a hook-heavy chorus, and verses that don't bore me. It doesn't try to overdo itself, and in the end it's my favorite song on the album (followed closely by "The Broken" and "Far.") You should listen to this one. Even if you don't like Coheed, or progressive rock, or oxygen. This one's good for everyone.

Made Out of Nothing
When the album was first put up on MySpace for all to hear, I felt like this song was the start of a heavy decline in the album. Now that I've heard it more, I really don't mind "Made Out of Nothing" as much. It's still very slow, very long, and not really all that interesting, but it's not bad. It makes a fantastic background sound while doing homework/cleaning/yardwork/etc, and it's got some minor hooks in it too. It'll get stuck in your head, you'll hate yourself for it, and then you'll listen to it again. It's not a bad thing, embrace it. Then go listen to the first half again.

Pearl of the Stars
Surprise! There's a second ballad. This one fits the pattern a little better, but has a Pink Floyd like breakdown/solo 3/5 into the song. I don't like this song very much though. It's disheartening: I love Pink Floyd, I love Coheed and Cambria. I should adore this song and need new pants after hearing. It might be the writing prospective though, lyrically the chorus is terrible. You NEVER rhyme "you" with "you." It's so full of cheese that it might as well give you arterial clogging. It should've/could've been better, but Claudio stepped on his own toes for this one. It's a nice song acoustic too, by the way. Strange flip-flop there. Really, if you start listening at the third minute, you can get straight to the best part of the song. The solo is one of the highlights of the album, but the rest of the song wouldn't ever let you know.

In the Flame of Error
The Pink Floyd theme carries over with the arrangement of this song, but it's quickly shot down. The song is complicated, and can't seem to make up its mind for what it wants to do. Some instances are Iron Maiden tribute, the chorus is driving and powerful, but the weird lapses in and out of "The Wall" era Floyd kind of hurts the vibe. There's also a weird vocal progression that jars with the melody of the song. I don't think I'd ever want to hear this one live. That makes me very, very sad to say. Quite the flaming error guys.

When Skeletons Live
A friend of mine that enjoyed the early leak of the album (he owns the hard copy now, don't worry) kept ranting about how much he loves this song. I gotta say, it's got some really cool guitar work going on. The structure of it doesn't catch me like I really hoped it would though. I can see why he liked it - and I imagine if I listen to it more it might stick with me in the same way too - but I don't think I'm sold on it. Besides that, I hate colloquialisms, and the chorus is built on one. Urgh.

The Black Rainbow
The theme for the past few albums has been a slow, heavy, moody, big finish. "The Light and the Glass," "The Final Cut," and "On the Brink" all set a precedent for "The Black Rainbow," one that's hard to meet. In this regard, it disappoints. It does not stand up to any of the others in the way it should. It's a pretty good jam, and a decent way to end the album, but it lacks the same balls the album started with. Rather than a slow, exploratory piece, it should've been more bombastic. It's very much an atmospheric piece that amplifies the chunk of story it represents, but it's too fucking long to stand as a song. I'm disappointed by this ending.

Overall
Songs loved: 4/11 [Broken, Juggernaut, Far, World]
Songs enjoyed: 4/11 [Guns, Nothing, Pearl, Skeletons]
Songs hated: 1/11 [Error]

I am indifferent to "One" (not counting towards the song mark), "Shattered Symphony," and "Black Rainbow." "Shattered Symphony" isn't a wonderful song, but I don't feel ripped off that it's taking up space on the album (as Flaming Error makes me feel right now). "Black Rainbow" isn't bad in itself, but it seems limited in it's use for me.

It's worth buying, but it's very different from most other Coheed albums. If you're a fan of progressive/metal/industrial things, then this album might rub you just right. I'm satisfied with it, but it's only with the promise of other amazing acoustic versions of the songs. "Here We Are Juggernaut"'s acoustic is one of their best unplugged pieces to date (the acoustic versions of "A Favor House Atlantic" and "The Light and the Glass" being it's competition). This also doesn't count the demos and bonus songs in different versions. I'll get to them eventually.

Writing Writer

When I was little I used to make up songs in my front yard. I'd sit at the base of a huge tree and hum ditties to myself until words came to mind. Writing used to be so easy then, there wasn't any effort to it. No worrying about falling into conventions, or being too repetitive, or following a meter and rhyme-scheme. All there was to it was spoken word with a melody.

Time went on and I started learning the ways of "real" writers. You need to pay attention to things like alliteration and allegory, and make sure that your syllabic patterns aren't cliche, or it'll seem like you're plagiarizing. All sources are cited, and the MLA margins and font formatting are too perfect, there's no life left in the writing. Everything that made it raw and beautiful has been ripped from the skeleton leaving a bare, desolate structure with no substance. It isn't always this way, but by and large this is how it turns out.

Things have changed for me now. I try desperately to adhere to structure, but at the same time have lost regard for it. I'll pay attention to the feet of a poem, and each stanza will have the same basic format... but I couldn't care less how else it holds together. I'll inject the soul back into it by breaking the rules a little. Not all the time, and not even in big ways. Little things, like a slant rhyme, rejuvenate in ways that couldn't be with a hard phonemic jab.

Other things change too, the definition of "genre" no longer means "comedy or sci-fi." It starts to take on more broad terms that don't really matter. Poetry is not a genre, it's a format. Nonfiction is not a genre, it's life. Even then, you're getting only half truths for what should be a complete roster.

Comic books and graphic novels - because they aren't the same, and it's not just the use of a buzz word - are "literary genres" too. So are screenplays. And raw notes. It's not limited to "fiction" and "memoir." It's all writing. Everything is art. Everything is beautiful, if you make it so. When you jam format in like steel rods you sacrifice the freely formed splendor that used to come from the writing.

Sure, it sometimes improves the intended impact in your reader. Sometimes it clarifies the point that was made. Sometimes you will want to format your work differently. This is not mandatory to make something worth reading. It is not mandatory to make anything at all.

Yes, I am a writer. I am not famous, nor am I published in any notable work just yet. College magazines and newspapers have put my words to page, and supposedly I'm in an anthology from a scam artist writing site from ten years ago. I'm cool with the realization that my work is - for the time being - insignificant. I only reach a small audience, and they mostly know me in person. I'm fine with that, as long as each of them take something away from this.

Literary greatness is overrated, even if that's what pays. I'll get there one day. I just don't mind waiting.

On Maturity.

It's funny how such a simple concept is so easily twisted and bastardized. Maturity shouldn't be difficult to grasp, but for whatever reason it slips away from many "mature" adults.

Maturity can be applied to many things. A boy is considered physically mature by the end of his teens. He will have grown in spurts, developed facial hair, and other things kick in. This doesn't mean that his mind matures at the same rate, or that he will emotionally ever mature.

The biggest misconception is that adults are mature. Maturity has nothing to do with age. It is not a miraculous sticker that gets put on your forehead that says you'll comprehend everything and be able to handle life. Legally, I've been an adult for six years. Most of my friends are considered adults at this point as well. Some recent things they've done include fighting over girls, holding grudges over (literally) nothing, playing with plastic knives, lighting themselves on fire, and the complete inability to cope with death. These are all different people - and with my social circle, a tiny percentage of the people I associate with - and each of them has space to grow in various ways. These people are also amazing musicians, intellectuals, humorists, and aspiring politicians. They're all adults, and all reasonably stable. Just immature.

Emotional maturity comes from understanding that there are things that are beyond your control that will sometimes hurt your feelings. The mature response is to deal with it, find something that helps sooth it, and get on with life. The juvenile response is to rage at the world and make hollow threats. No one can overcome all circumstances in life. It is not mature to be the "man's man," and punch things while ejaculating into their coffee. It doesn't matter if that's what you suspect Chuck Norris would do, it matters that you look like a 13 year old that just realized the girl you were crushing on doesn't like boys. Tough fucking shit.

A maturing mind is something vastly different from the other two common sorts, but it is linked to both. When I say that someone is mentally immature, I'm not saying they're handicapped/disabled/whatever other PC terms exist for "retarded" these days. Mental maturity comes from the practiced ability to handle situations that are much larger than human comprehension. Among these are astronomical numbers, death, birth, the question of God, and the realization that all that one does effects hundreds of thousands of people around them. It isn't something that happens suddenly, despite the concept of an epiphany. You will realize that everything dies - including you - at some point, but you will spend years trying to understand it. You will realize that God might not exist, but you won't comprehend the implications for the majority of your life. You will realize at some point that the creation of new life is something inherently god-like, but you won't ever fully understand the intricacies of it. Anyone that claims to is lying. Even doctors - who know the process inside and out (all that sex from med school) - will never fully understand the concept of when/if/how a soul is injected into a new being.

Maturity comes in many forms, but the form it should come in is exercised control and the knowledge of when self restraint is an option and when it should be thrown to the wind. Most of the time the wind gets too much. Hold on to some for yourself.

Errata: "Mature" should never be applied to television and music. "Mature" audiences just existed long enough to have been exposed to it previously. Same way that a kid shouldn't play most Mature games. They can't fucking comprehend what the implication of killing someone is, why desensitize them to it before they know what it is?

I don't give a damn about a reputation.

All my life I've been taught to make everything you do worth having your name attached. This way, you will always be able to take pride in what you do, and others will know to expect quality work from you. While it isn't always possible to be proud of everything, I do take this approach to heart professionally.

I've got several jobs to help pay for college, and I take pride in my work for all of them. I've always had at least one job while in university, but at the moment I have (about) three. All involve customer service, and are specifically service jobs. I'm not servicing the customers (mostly illegal, outside of Las Vegas), but I am garnering the same satisfaction from them. Sometimes it's little things, like making sure they don't fall down a flight of stairs, or fixing the lounge chair they abuse until I need to repair it again. Sometimes it's making sure a building doesn't get lit on fire, or ensuring that the sound system for an event will not only work, but make my constituents sound as good as they think they do.

For every job I have and task I complete, I go out of my way to never half-ass it. I'm very distinct in my approach, appearance, and follow through. If I don't put full effort into my tasks, everyone notices. I'm at a disadvantage in this way; others will only do enough work to stay employed, never going beyond the basics of their duties. They do not fulfill the full responsibility, and little is expected of them. The standard to stay employed is significantly lower. In my case, since I've put my all into everything the entire time, an off day kills my reputation. That's something I can't abide by at this stage in life, I need to hold on to it on a professional level.

That's why I meet my deadlines, why my organizational skills see full use in the workplace, and why I don't fuck around on the job. My making you happy keeps my job safe. While a coworker might demolish your eardrums with a PA rig, I must keep it perfect. While a coworker might leave you to your own devices, I must make sure you have all the information you need to save your self from acting the fool. While a coworker might take a bribe to ignore regulations, I must recommend you put it away or donate it to a children's cancer society.

I don't live through my reputation, but my job does.

Easter Bunny's Severed Head

We all fear the living dead, yet the vast majority of all religion is based on the notion of life after death. Perhaps it's best to assume that undeath is ultimately the afterlife.

Christians possibly have it the worst off. Their saviour is glorified because he became a zombie. The little known fact about Jesus is that he was considered merciful only because he refused to eat brains. That's why he returned for such a short time before perishing again.

We are not afraid of zombies because they want to kill us. We are not afraid of them because they are nearly unstoppable. We are not even afraid because we do not understand them. We are afraid of zombies because - in a sense - they are a higher level of being than humans. We are afraid of them because we know they're better than us. We were supposedly made in God's image, but zombies were modeled after his son. Therefore, we must all die and come back once more to truly embrace a love for Christ.

...this would all be true, if any of the subjects discussed ever existed.

If you celebrate Easter today, or passover still, or whatever else is around this time of year, then I hope it's happy and full of life.

Fuck this.

I'm never blogging again. I'm sick of all the hate and terrible feedback I get every time I open myself up to the world.

God fucking damnit. Goodbye, reader.