Open Mic Night (And a Night on the Town with Jenny!!)

Well, originally I was planning to write a post entitled "On Death and Dentistry." With a title like that I'm sure you wish you could read it, but trust me, this post will be WAY better.

For those of you who don't know my brother and sister have been involved in a homeschooling co-op called Lighthouse and as part of that were involved in a performance of Willy Wonka Jr., a musical type thing featuring most of the music from the first Willy Wonka movie but with the book-faithfulness of the second movie. Elizabeth was Mrs. Gloop and Peter was James, one of the kids in the candy store with the candy man. All that awesomeness aside, it is through this performance that I found out about open mic.

The performance took place in the Union St. Brick Church, a Christian forsaken old church that has been converted into a public place of awesome, housing plays and....AN OPEN MIC NIGHT!

As we pulled up to the old brick church we saw a group of...teenagers? College kids?...standing outside smoking. Their dark clothing, psuedo-rasta hair, piercings, tattoos, and slightly reddened eyes told me that I was definitely at an open mic. One guy in a black shirt and trucker hat covering his matted hair lifted his shirt and scratched his belly as he walked in.

After dropping $4 into the donation box Jenny and I found seats in the second to back row and chatted a little until the first act was ready.

A black guy in tight bleached jeans and a blue T-shirt that said Newport Beach in fading letters got behind the mic and grabbed his guitar. He began to strum with a sort of alternative rock feel and sang just far enough away from the mic that I couldn't make out what he was saying. Despite the overly loud guitar and the nearly a mumble singing I really enjoyed just getting into the feel of an open mic.

As he played I looked around the room and took notes in my pocket-sized black notebook so that I could write about it all later. The stage was set up with fake potted trees shrouding the giant concert speakers. Our trucker-hatted friend with the itchy belly sat on the floor in the back tweeking out a little, shaking and rocking back and forth, his mouth convulsing into odd shapes. I was amazed by the diversity in the audience. A guy with a receding hairline and a tight, white ponytail sat with a chihuahua in his lap. Behind me and Jenny fuckin' was said every other word by some twenty something guy talking to three middle-school boys. The hosts, a late twenties guy with glasses and a cute daughter on his shoulders and a forty-something guy with a pony tail, wore the left over oompa loompa wigs from the Willy Wonka production.

Next up was Jules (I want to spell it "Jewels") Davis, an apparent veteran of the open mic, a girl with a guitar and a nice smile. Jenny aptly pointed out that if I weren't engaged I would have probably hit on her. Both the hosts were flirting with her as they gave her an epic introduction. Jules explained that both of the songs she sang were new ones and that the first, "There's a War Coming," was inspired by the idea of a wolf howling at the moon. The second song was an excellent song about gender relations and began "I say the sky is pink, you say it's blue..." with a chorus of "When we fight, it doesn't feel right, we can't see each others side..." Ms. Davis was probably the greatest talent we saw last night as she had a strong voice, entrancing lyrics, and a good stage presence. I thoroughly enjoyed her performance.

The rest of the night went on in this fashion. A girl got up with her guitar and did covers of "What's up!" by 4 Non Blondes and "Don't trust me" by 3OH!3 while the crowd rocked out and sang along and nobody got high-horse offended as we sang "Don't trust a ho,/Never trust a ho,/Won't trust a ho,/Won't trust me." It was awesome.

The two most surprising performers were a girl fresh from her high school graduation, complete with cap and gown, and the guy in the trucker hat. The girl sang a song from Phantom of the Opera and then jumped off her stool and sang something from Rent while doing that dropping to the floor sexy pole-dance esque thing that people do. I don't know what it's called and that description makes me sound very lame. I obviously don't dance much. Our friend from the back got up on stage with his guitar and was introduced as Henry Wildflower! When he announced that he would only be doing one song one of the hosts jumped up and said that we (the audience) were clearly being shortchanged by only getting one song. Mr. Wildflower's pitch was slightly off and his words were a little slurred but his guitar was steady and the crowd seemed to love him and he left the stage amidst cheers and applause.

Then, finally, a poet! I was extremely excited when a guy got up and read 2 poems. The poems were okay. I wish he had spoken a little louder because I couldn't hear too well. The reason I was so excited is because I was so interested in an open mic because of the possibility of reading some of my own stuff. I have been part of a writers' circle for a while now with some of my best friends at Houghton and now that I'm more comfortable sharing my poetry I'd really like to. Especially because one of the poems I shared at the writers' circle was considered "kind of like slam poetry," which made me feel really cool and want to perform it someday. Maybe I will...It was an open mic!

(For those of you curious about slam poetry, check out this video. This is a really powerful example. I'm not sure I'm quite that good, she's pretty excellent.)


This is my dream life minus the beanbag bed. Open mic nights and hanging out with my fiance. Oh, and it gets better...

Guess who was playing the Bangor Waterfront last night? <---- Ray Lamontagne! Guess who listened in for free? Jenny and I! The way the waterfront concerts are set up it is super easy for anybody to just chill out in the park next to the stage and listen in for free, which is, of course, exactly what Jenny and I did! With the romantic backdrop of Ray crooning Jenny and I sat and talked and generally had a really nice night. After sitting for a little while Jenny and I went for a walk by the waterfront and listened to the concert echoing off the water. It was a great night.

Bangor really is one of the best cities ever.

Well, I'm Excited

So, I've been really bad at writing every night. I'll confess, I was doing well, but then I started to suck. Crap. Well, so it goes. Now I'm back. I still don't feel I have too much to write about.

I have a picture there of the CoD MW3 promo thing because, despite what a bad gamer this may make me, I LOVE the Modern Warfare games. They are not all that artsy, or innovative, or unique, or anything that I am supposed to support. They are just fun. I seriously enjoyed the first 2 MW games and the idea of the third one continuing the story and escalating it to all out world war just makes me pretty excited. So, bad gamer or not, that's my thought.

Now that I've scared off all my readers by being a nerd I'll try writing about something else. Oooh, how about...LOVE?! Eww, gross, I'm a terrible person for saying it like that. What I mean to say is, how about if I talk about my fiance a little, and tell what we've been up to this summer?

Sure, you say? You'd like nothing better? Okay!

Well then. This summer has been great thus far as Jenny and I have seen a lot of each other. For those of you who don't know, Jenny lives about an hour North of me. Because of this we decided that this summer we would take turns and spend each weekend at the others house and, most importantly, each others churches. I am a Salvationist and Jenny is...not. She's independent or something. So we decided that it would be a good idea to get to know each others church families and also be able to spend a lot of time together and with our families. All in all it's a great arrangement, and so far I'm loving it.

Well, this is a short and terribly boring post. First I'm a nerd, then I'm a lovestruck writer, and now I'm being lazy and publishing with no good content. Anywho, I'll figure out how to be a good writer again...someday...

Job Applications and the First Day of my Internship

Well, I forgot to write last night. Not only does this mean that I officially suck, it also means I have two days worth of life to write about. Hopefully this post won't get too long. We'll see.

Well, yesterday I went for a walk. Yes, it was a gloriously wet day and I went for a walk to the shopping plaza by my house. Not only was the sock soaking weather just fun to walk through--I was on a mission! I had a mission to collect as many job applications as I could, and trust me, I could collect a lot.

I am applying at:
iParty
Big Lots
Famous Footwear
GameStop
A. C. Moore
Old Navy
Kohl’s
L. L. Bean
Papa John’s
Verizon Wireless Zone
Subway
Pepino’s Mexican Restaurant
Harley-Davidson
Dollar Tree
Home Depot
Chili’s
and Borders

My dream jobs from this list would probably be Borders and Gamestop. We'll see though. I've finished online applications for Borders, Home Depot, L.L. Bean, and A.C. Moore so maybe I'll start hearing from people soon. Maybe. Maybe I'm just a little cocky in thinking that I am desirable to employers.

Next, jump forward 24 hours to...today! Today was the first official day of my internship and I have decided, after taking notes right after leaving, that I would describe the whole thing in detail here.

1:50 p.m. Slip shoes on. Speed walk out the door. I thought my house was a 10 minute walk from The Acadia Hospital. It turns out that it's actually about 15. After walking through some freshly cut grass, of course getting some to cling to my shoes on the way, I pulled out my phone while under the highway overpass. 1:57. Dang it, I realized I was going to be late. I went as fast as I could without being reckless and managed to get in to the lobby at 2:05.

Acadia is a huge, wood paneled building that was built onto an old homeopathic hospital. The homeopathic hospital is now the outpatient portion of Acadia and sticks out of the main building like an oddly shaped tree limb, branches shooting off in all different directions to create a maze of long hallways.

After notifying the front desk of where I was going I walked out of the main building and into one of the tunnel-like halls of the outpatient building. One of the hallways is all glass on each wall. Every time I have walked through that hallway I wish I could just stop and look out those windows. Shortly after I arrive at the office of my supervisor, Dr. Ward.

As I sat down in my chair, dropping my backpack next to my chair, I turned to face the the clinical psychologist I will be spending the summer working with. This taut-faced, no-nonsense woman sits with her streamlined white hair tightly pulled back. As we began talking I realized that I am ridiculously intimidated just by the sheer amount of knowledge Dr. Ward has in her head.

We were meeting this time for a didactic session as I have not yet had my official orientation at the hospital yet. Dr. Ward talked about a lot of things that I wish I knew a lot more about. I hope I can manage to keep up this summer. To be honest I am feeling somewhat nervous. Not only do I feel that I sounded like a bumbling idiot today, I also am not sure that I am quite as fascinated by psychology as I thought I was. Reading Irvin Yalom's Love's Executioner makes psychotherapy seem so exciting and fun and, I can't think of a good word here, maybe easy. But what I am seeing in my internship is intake and assessment and that stuff is a lot of paperwork. Maybe I'm not quite as cut out for this work as I thought I was. We'll see. It's odd when I can say "Well, at least I have writing to fall back on."

Anyway, that's been my last two days. Now I am quite exhausted and will hopefully be going to bed soon. I hope you enjoyed reading!

I’ll Show You the Life of the Mind!

Be warned, the following clip contains John Goodman, a shotgun, and the murder of two fascist police detectives. Also note, this sequence makes just as little sense in the context of Barton Fink.

Well, it was bound to happen eventually. I decide to write every night and eventually I won't know what to write. Writers' block and whatnot. Dang. So I thought that particular clip was appropriate, being from Barton Fink, a movie about writers' block that the ever fantastic Coen brothers wrote while they had writers' block with a different movie. Oh, the horror of writers' block...I have ideas, they just aren't really moving, either tonight or last. Ugh.

Anyway, because I'm vain enough to hope that you might find my life interesting I think I'll just tell you about my day. Today Jenny, my beautiful fiance, and I went (window) shopping for wedding stuff. We're getting married June 10th, 2012 (WOOHOO!) Jenny's aunt is cool enough to be making her dress so Jenny and I went looking at what types of things we might like.

In Deb Jenny went into the changing area to try on the dresses and there were two rickety plastic chairs right in the entrance of the changing area so I assumed that was the official male-companion-waiting-area, a.k.a. kennel. Jenny confirmed so I plopped myself there and oohed and aahed over the first two dresses (she looked very pretty) until one of the store employees noticed me...

Sorry, men aren't allowed in here...

Crap. Thus commenced several awkward minutes of standing between prom dress hedges and waiting for Jenny to come out. Finally we were able to leave and luckily Jenny had tried on the best looking dresses first so I hadn't missed anything.

This was followed by an adventure to the fabric store to look at stuff, where we ran into Jenny's friend Kara, which was a cool and unexpected surprise. It was especially nice considering that Kara was looking for stuff for her wedding too!

Jenny and I eventually ended up having lunch at Applebees (A little more expensive than we usually do, but at Houghton we don't have much variety for dates so I figure we might as well now that we have the option) before going to Borders. In Borders Jenny perused the poetry (I'm not sure I can really get into Pablo Neruda...Dang Jenny, how can you not?) and I drooled over the David Foster Wallace books (when I obsess I really obsess) and eventually we ended up by the plan-your-marriage books.

Jenny and I sat on the floor trying not to hyperventilate as the thick volume told us everything we could possibly screw up in our wedding planning. As we discussed the necessity of some of the things on the list another young couple stepped past us and, awkwardly apologizing, pulled an even thicker volume off the wall to hyperventilate with. They looked like a nice couple (by which I mean nerdy and weird like us) and it was slightly comforting to remember we're not the only ones trying to figure out this type of insanity.

Well, I began with a clip from Barton Fink so I guess I'll end with one too. This is me. You might think this post uninteresting and narcissistic but...



In case you can't tell, I only just figured out how to embed YouTube videos...

Now watch this and say What? with Andy Sandberg at 1:07 in reaction to both Michael Bolton and this post!

Some Thoughts on Identity and Meaning

When Soulforce, a LGBT rights group, visited Houghton as part of their national bus tour of colleges it caused quite a stir. Rumors flew everywhere, the VP of Student Life once again looked demonic, and the conservative Christian bubble of Houghton shook like, well, a bubble. One of the most interesting reactions to this was a group of students who decided to make t-shirts. “I Have Died” declared the front, “My Identity Is In Christ” said the back in what I assume was an attempt at a punch line and what I know was a stab at the idea of homosexuality as an identity.

As many feelings as I and many others have about that particular incident that is not currently what I am writing about. That bit of Houghton history came to my mind at the end of the semester free-for-all (like take-a-penny-leave-a-penny but with whatever worldly possessions you don’t want, mostly clothes) when, after picking through a pile of discarded Houghton T-shirts I found a one of the “I Have Died shirts” and was reminded of the hullabaloo caused by the idea of “identity.”

Identity has been on my mind a lot recently. I am a writing/psychology major who lives in New York/Maine and feels more or less at home in Estonia/America and plans to jump into marriage/independent-happy-go-lucky life right after graduation. Of course I still haven’t figured out where my gaming fits into my identity either. I have an extreme problem with Dissociative Identity Disorder. Not in a literal sense, but in a I-can’t-figure-out-who-I-am sense.

This past semester I was feeling very gung-ho about psychology. I added it as a major, I got a summer internship at a psychiatric hospital, and I even looked at a few grad schools. I had never even dreamed of grad school before last semester. I can’t wait to get out of school, why would I want to go pay for even more? Yet this past semester I imagined myself in a future as a psychologist or counselor, wielding the gestalt method in one hand and cognitive behavioral in the other, mightily knocking down the problems of the world and bringing peace to my clients.

Yet as I look towards my internship (beginning next Wednesday) I am terrified and I feel unprepared and, worst of all, uncalled. This past semester there were days when I was convinced I had found my calling as a mental healer. Now that I have some room to breathe and think away from the excitement of my counseling and psychotherapy class and to just write I seem to be having second thoughts. To just write.

That is my problem. This is only day three of my commitment to write every night and already I am questioning my entire identity. The problem is that I had always pictured myself as more of the starving artist, freelance writer, long-haired eccentric type of person after I graduate. Now that I have some time to focus on my own writing and read some great writers just for fun (David Foster Wallace is my current idol) I find myself wanting that dream back. Yeah, yeah, helping people is all well and good but I’m just not sure I’m up to it. Also, I’m not sure I’m willing to do something that…normal.

Then I am also faced with the eternal question: Am I a gamer? For years I have considered myself a moderately intense gamer. I love video games. I love the gameplay, I love the challenge, I love the story telling of the medium, and I love the random button mashing. I love being a gamer. I love the community, I love the history, I just love it all. But I also love writing. I’m just not sure I have time in my day to write, read exciting and influencing authors such as David Foster Wallace, and play video games. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, says writing, swaggering through the main street of my soul (which is obviously a Western gold rush town) holding a Smith and Wesson loaded with five authors I aspire to be like and one chamber promising me I might someday join them. Oh yeah, drawls video games, his CG Smith and Wesson an example of some of the more beautiful graphics showing up in the game industry as of late, we’ll see who wins this here shoot out, then. To this day I am still perplexed by where gaming fits into my life.

So here I sit, Consider the Lobster and Brief interviews with Hideous Men in one hand and Mass Effect and Combat Arms in the other. Pondering.

I am also feeling extremely split this summer because this is the first summer since I left home that I have not gone home to my family only to help them move. 2009 I helped them move to Narva. 2010 I helped them move to America, Bangor specifically. 2011 we’re still in Bangor. We have a home. Some might say I have a home. I don’t really know what to do with this. After spending the past three years living in Houghton, New York I don’t really know where I belong. This is especially disconcerting when Jenny and I talk about our future and where we will move when we graduate. Honestly, at the moment, I don’t know. I can’t return to a hometown and get my dream job. I don’t have a hometown or a dream job. The sense of in-between-ness is getting tiresome, I’ve dealt with it enough in my life. When you add in the fact that the United States, let alone the continent of North America, are not the only options the confusion becomes a little overwhelming.

The biggest split in my life was pointed out to me today by a bean bag chair that turns into a bed. I had seen this awesome looking deal (http://cordaroys.com/shop/splash-page.html) through StumbleUpon and was completely in love with it. My image of myself after I graduate is that of a writer in a grubby apartment trying to survive off of seldom sold short stories and live enough to finish a memoir. This picture of me would listen to NPR religiously and revel in the city culture of whatever city I was in. This future would include long hair, unshaven chin, and sleeping on bed that during the day I sit on as a bean bag chair. Obviously this idea of myself lives alone.

Problem. I’m engaged. I’m currently at my fiancé’s house. I just came down from her room where I read her a children’s book we got at the library today, A Dignity of Dragons. Why is that a problem? Doesn’t anybody who knows Jenny know that she would love to be a wild, good-for-nothing artist, culture-reveler just as much as me? The problem is not Jenny by any stretch of the imagination, the problem is me.

Wife=Need to be supported
Children=Need to be supported
Marriage=Requiring equality and fellowship, not lone eccentric writer

When I look at the future I see my dreams begin to fade as I see that my future will involve supporting a wonderful wife and family, I see that costing money, and I see that I can’t make that money off of seldom published short stories. The life of a starving artist is all well and good, but add in a family and it becomes the life of a neglectful husband and father with a starving family.

Damn you, oh cursed responsibility and reality!

Here I am, schizoid and uncertain of what the future might hold. Where will my writing take me, if anywhere? What am I called to be? And worst, can I fit my dream-self in with my wife and my money-requiring reality, and should I?

Join Chris next time as he mulls over unanswerable questions again…and again…and again…and….same bat time, same bat channel.

Until next time, I hope you have a less split up life than I do.

Yours truly,
Chris

Frustrations and Excitements

So, Blogger is down tonight. That’s frustrating. I guess I’ll just post this in the morning or something.

In case you’re reading this on Facebook or hadn’t noticed I had completely updated my blog layout. I had kept the same basic parchment template from 2005 because the whole parchment thing goes well with this being a chronicle. Get it? Well, I have to give credit where it’s due. The snazzy parchment background I have now I snagged from sinnedaria on DeviantArt. Thank God for Deviants! Anyway, doesn’t it look great? You should comment and say it looks great. I dare you.

Also, there is now a “Follow by E-mail” option on the right side of my blog. In my opinion that’s the best way to follow a blog so humbly suggest you enter your e-mail address…yo.

Other than the excitement of the follow by e-mail thing and my new layout I have one other big excitement tonight: I am finally done with the Life @ Houghton blog (http://blog.houghton.edu/author/chris/) for what I have been a paid writer this year. It’s not that it was bad work it’s just that I was bad at it. I was terribly inconsistent which just meant I had two blogs to feel guilty for neglecting instead of one. Except this one was paying me so I felt like more of a failure. Anyway, I’m glad to have that out of the way. My permanent to-do list looks much emptier. Also, now when I post pictures of beautiful Houghton nature I don’t have to filter out the pictures of beer cans I found in the woods. Yup, it happens at Houghton too. Those naughty, naughty sinners. Whatever.

Well, that’s a quicker blog post tonight, but I also posted on the Life @ Houghton blog and Blogger is down so I feel justified in being shorter. Now I will listen to NPR podcasts and feel superior. Goodnight!

P.S. At the moment I am also missing my most recent post previous to this and my cool new layout. Be patient and have faith in the Blogger deities, my writing shall be returned!

Summer Time...And the Writing's Easy

11 p.m., buzz buzz, says my phone, Writing Time! 

Hello blogosphere. I know that through many broken promises and nights when I have chosen video games over writing I have broken the hearts of whatever readers I once had. Forgive me, oh jilted readers, accept my humble apologies and read my ramblings again! For real this time, I'm back


I have several reasons for being back this time. The first reason is that I was encouraged by Professor Huth, veteran of five classes with me, to blog. Earlier today Professor Huth wrote to me to give me my grade on my final project for my Extended Narrative class (I got an A!) and said, "Have you considered starting a blog?  The kind of writing you’re doing might lend itself toward that, as well as force you to keep writing regularly and give you a readership." Why yes, Professor Huth, I have considered starting a blog. What I have not considered is writing consistently since 2008...but no more! Ever since coming going to college I have tried to expand my writing horizons by focusing on fiction and poetry so as to shore up my weak points. I recently changed all that in my Extended Narrative class where I went back to my native form: Autobiography, Memoir, or as some call it, Blogging! After the positive response I have received from friends, class, professor and, most difficult to please, myself, I have decided that it is time to get back into blogging.


The second reason is that "Write everyday!" is the #1 piece of advice given to writers everywhere (next to "show don't tell" of course). "If you make time for your muse it will come to you!" Well, time to put that to the test. 11 p.m. every day this summer I would probably be doing one of several things:

1. Playing a video game
2. Watching a movie
3. Lurking on social networks
4. Stumbling on StumbleUpon...and stumbling...and stumbling...and...
5. Picking my nose
6. Having an existential crisis
7. Having an identity crisis (Am I a writer, psychologist or missionary? Why am I even in college? Who am I?)
8. Staring at the ceiling
9. Becoming preoccupied with wishing I were more productive
10. Doing anything but writing

Change of plans. This summer I will be doing none of those things at 11 p.m. This summer my phone will vibrate and making annoying noises and display the words Writing Time! in accusatory letters until I begin to write. Hopefully I will actually keep up with this and not break any hearts, yours or mine, ever again.


Reason three: FaceBook! I love the fact that my blog gets imported to FaceBook and I hope that this will cause more comments and readership than regular blogging could give me. Also, maybe some people who don't know me quite so well will get to know me really well and suddenly decide to become my best friend. You never know what great things blogging could do through the power of social networking.


The fourth of the reasons is that this summer I have an internship at the Acadia Hospital (http://acadiahospital.org/) this summer and I need to journal about that experience after each day of field experience. Not only will the internship be awesome for me but I think that some other people might like to hear about it as well. It is likely that I can't share everything on my blog, but what I can share I will. Sharing my experiences with all of you, my beloved readers (I still believe you exist, just like Slenderman), will make it more interesting to write about and will keep me faithful to journaling about it.


The fifth and final reason why I will write this summer is simple. I like myself. A lot. A chance for me to just write about myself and be as cocky and arrogant or self-conscious and self-deprecating as I want is just plain fun. It has been years since I blogged consistently, but this summer I hope to revive that tradition.


Again, I know that you, like me, are skeptical that I will keep my promise this time. It is true that I may not blog every day but I am committed to writing every night. I may spend the time working on other projects such as journaling for my internship or some fun writing that I may come up with, but if I really am writing every night I will end up blogging at least somewhat consistency.


Anyway, I hope you're as excited as I am for this, and I hope that more than three people read this. To obscurity and inconsistency! Huzzah!