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Make A Joyful Noise

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My father-in-law recently blogged about music, and lamented that Western society does not produce music except for the purpose of providing entertaining diversions. While I am sorely tempted to link to his blog, I will refrain. Rather, I wish to simply present my own thoughts on why I consume music. And consume it I do. I love music. I devour it. It is a part of my being. Gretch and I almost always have music playing in our home, in the car, and when we are working (and can get away with it). I do not know when my love of music first emerged, but I would argue that it has always been with me. My own father is a talented musician, although I fear there are times when this talent has been hidden from the world. Yet some of my earliest recollections of my childhood include Dad breaking out his amazingly awesome Martin D35 acoustic guitar and playing songs like "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" by The Tokens, "Boogie" by John Hartford, and various songs from the world of classi...
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Who Am I? On Iconography, Faith, and Self-Identity

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In one of the great classic works of French literature, the author Victor Hugo tells the story of Jean Valjean, a man who spent nineteen years in prison, growing angrier and more filled with hate toward the world with each passing day. The first five years were for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving family, but then he suffered for fourteen additional years for attempting to run away. The story of Les Misérables follows his journey from his release from prison on parole to a life of service, sacrifice, love, mercy, grace, and, ultimately, redemption. In the musical adaptation of this story, a pivotal moment takes place early in the story when Jean Valjean, who had been gifted a meal and safe shelter for the night from a kindly bishop, gives in to temptation, steals the bishop’s silverware and runs off, only to be captured by the local constables. Valjean claims that the silver was given as a gift from the bishop but the police, not believing the words of a cri...
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Enjoyment

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The other day I was talking on Facebook about my hilarious adventures in looking for part-time summer work, most notably the fake job interview I went to in the morning. I guess it would be more accurate to describe it as a non-existent interview for a most-likely fake job, but whatever. In the course of the discussion, a dear family friend suggested I go into business for myself doing cleaning. I apparently never told her or her husband about the cleaning business that Gretch and I had owned for a year, run for about six months longer than that, and worked for for the course of three years total. I explained that, having been there and done that, I was never going to do it again. My father-in-law was surprised by my determination to never again own a cleaning business, particularly since I had seemingly enjoyed it when I did. Here's the thing: I did enjoy being a small business owner. I did enjoy having a cleaning business. Despite the headaches, the heartaches, the stress, ...
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