last class assignment...

damn, i've been procrastinating so much of today. i have ONE more assignment due tomorrow for my music cognition class, and then i have no more classes EVER. it really doesn't feel different, but i know it will soon enough. then it's onto the master's thesis...that's gonna be one hell of an ordeal. due august 31st with almost no work done on it so far. it's funny that i'm going to be putting so much time, effort, and money into it when it's most likely just gonna hang idly on the brew room wall once i start my own brewpub.

ahh, i can't wait...such an amazing feeling when you actually realize what you want to do (and more importantly, what you would be happy doing every day). i never had it before. i did my undergrad in information sciences solely because i knew i was good at it, and that i would probably be content with a job in the field if it worked out that way. after 4 years of that, i didn't know what i wanted to do, but i knew it wasn't IT. The idea of a cubicle-ized existence, drowning in memos, bound in red tape, seemed to be the farthest thing from interesting. due to this realization during the end of my PSU years, i happened to start taking classes related to music technology. this, i thought, was interesting. what i didn't realize at the time was that "music technology" is not universally defined. at penn state, this was related to using technology to create new ways of making music, while at mcgill, the making of the music is almost completely erased from the equation. they make the technologies, but when it comes to using them to make art, they back away, putting their hands up, frightened, saying, "oh...ahh...let's find one of those...ah...performers...or...ah...composers...". with a few notable exceptions, no one in the entire program wants to make music. it gets confusing, because dartmouth, for example, has a "Music Technology" degree that is completely the opposite of this. they bring a much more creative, compositional side to the program.

i guess if i had actually been accepted to dartmouth, things may have been different...i may have become an electronic musician, or have gone on to a doctoral degree...it doesn't matter now though. either way, i knew i wasn't going to settle for anything less than finding a job that i was ecstatic about doing every day. and i found that with brewing...i think it may stem from the fact that some part of me always wanted to be a chef. and being a brewer lets me get close, while not shouldering the high levels of stress that come with being a chef. and all the time leading up to this realization, i have just been accumulating degrees, which will definitely support me if something goes awry with the brewing.

shit. all this hopeful thinking about the wonderful days after august 31st has brought me to 3:00am with my project still unfinished...at least it will be over after 1pm tomorrow...

see you on the other side...

Dusty

well, it happened. my dog, Dusty, died at home at about 6am this morning. it wasn't unexpected, considering that he's had a tumor in his heart for months now, and the vet was very shocked that he made it this long. it still hurts really bad. especially since i was gonna be home to see him in a little over a week. i knew i should have gone home for thanksgiving...i would have been around for one of his last days. at least he enjoyed his last (eating nothing but his favorite foods) and had a great, stress free life of almost 11 years, all coming to a close in my parents' arms at home instead of in a cold, clean, bright vet's office.

i wonder how my other dog, Tanga, feels. my mom told me that she seems a little depressed, but who knows? Tanga probably knew more of what was going on than we did for the last few months. the two of them always seemed to have a telepathic link of sorts. maybe it continues...we'll never know.

deception and limited resolution

baby steps across the ice. such is life.

very few times in our meager existence can we see it in a light that allows us to make judgments. this is not to say that the judgments are clear in any sort of way, but most often, we drudge through life as it slips away without sizing it up. maybe it's not our place to size it up, but we inherently do, regardless of our limited span of sentience.

staring at a delicate flower...able to perceive its beauty, not able to explain why. is it color? is it rarity? is it size? shape? vibrance? catch a glimpse of personal scars in the glass...a lingering sense of imperfection recalling both internal and external flaw. they are, in every sense of the word, delicate. where is the beauty in that? in their emergence? hardly.

cold rain pours down, stiffening the treacherous surface on which we walk. some glide, unshaken by the probable peril. others inch, too frightened...not of the surface itself, but of the conceived consequences. since we are, in fact, fragile beings, obviously inching would bring us safely to the warm, comforting place that we attempt to call home. but for most, home is a dream. home is an idealized place that never tests us, never pushes us. home is a place that always has a steady beat...only sometimes throws us a dissonant chord, which always is followed by a resounding consonance. never frightens. never leaves us uncomfortable. this does not exist.

we are in the wild. a cry trespasses the sense of safety. a horn startles from beyond vision. there is safety in 4/4. there is safety in familiar timbre. there is safety in recognizable themes. too many ache for safety. there is no surprise in safety. there is no outward experience in safety. there is no pain in safety. and without pain, where are we? never could a human experience joy, love, happiness, content, mirth, ambition, laughter without pain and anguish. safety is a cop out.

a homeless man excitedly thanks me for a handful of change that couldn't be more than 2 dollars. maybe he'll purchase a loaf of bread. maybe he'll be able to sustain himself for another day. what does that amount mean to most of us? a third of a pint of inebriating substance? a load of wet clothes in the dryer? a pack of gum so that our breath can seem 'fresh'? a shitty song off of iTunes? what we look at as an insignificant sum of change that we haphazardly throw onto our desk becomes life-preserving manna for another day of existence. don't get me wrong...i too relish in the extravagances of expenditure, but to what end? to be happy? to keep an image? to find pleasure in such a seemingly meaningless lifestyle? to make a 'home'? it is not i that understands the importance of life, but this man.

myspace sucks. sorta.

i used to blog on myspace. it was my first, and just as everyone remembers their first, i will give it due credit. i still am on there occasionally (DrGonzo65), but their blog features kinda suck, and one of my best friends showed me how nice this site is, so i'm here for now. check out his very interesting blog: Combat Davey. he's damn brilliant, and likes to write to procrastinate, so keep a close watch on his for thought-provoking insights.

i can't promise anything mega-interesting, but i can promise content that will most likely provide any readers (especially those who know me) a door into the labyrinth that is my mind/'continuous psychotic episode'.