My Mother

When I look back over my past few weekends, what I mostly see are images of people. Lots of people. About three to four thousand people to be be more precise. These are the people who go to mass at St. John's. Lately I have been going to all five masses throughout weekend. Not because I'm a saint, but because it's my second job. I'm putting my degree to good use by running the sound for each mass. The best part is that the console is in the balcony. This means that four of the five masses, I sit up in the choir loft in a dark little corner by myself and basically, watch. I watch the kids secretly coloring in the cracks in the pews, or the wife elbowing her snoozing husband. I started working there Palm Sunday but even before then I was up there for at least one mass a weekend singing in choir and playing the timpani. I've been to all the special masses like Christmas and Easter Vigils, or confirmation last night. But today, out of all the masses I've been to in the past nine months, something was different.

Today, almost everyone was on time, and almost everyone came to mass. Standing room only for 8:30 and 10:30. Even 7:00 was more crowded than usual. Today they did the kids liturgy of the word at two masses because there were just so many kids there. But also, everyone was dressed up. Even more so than Easter I'd bet. And on top of that, everyone was on their best behavior. No kids screaming, no one falling asleep, no one sticking gum under the pews.

This, to me, was one of the greatest examples of how important our mothers are. Now, I know that mothers can be annoying at times. Especially when you're young and you want to do is play in the dirt all day. But our mothers taught us many things.

Mothers are the ones who taught us to brush our teeth every morning along with many other hygienal necessities. (And yes, I realize that hygienal is not a word but that is one thing my mother never taught me. Although, I'm not sure the word hygienal ever came up during my childhood...)

Mothers are the ones who taught us to cook and clean and to take care of ourselves and others.

Mothers are the ones who taught us to respect others and to help those in need.

But mothers are also the ones who taught us to love.

Now, I'm not saying that dads don't teach us to love as well, but there's something about a mother's love that makes it seem so endless. This is the reason why mass was different than normal. These families all knew that going to mass and being good was something their mothers wanted. And because they know how much their mother loves them, they were determined to make this day everything she wanted, to show their love in return.

I'm sorry for those who don't have a mother, or those whose mother was not what she was supposed to be. I'm sorry for those who don't know what it's like to have a mother's love and to feel it with you wherever you go. I am grateful that I did have a wonderful mother. One who was caring and thoughtful, kind and loving. I wish I could be with her today to let her know that she did good, raising me. That I try to remember what she's taught me and that I will keep learning from her for the rest of my life. And I know she'll always be there when I need her help or even just a shoulder to cry on.

A mother's love knows no bounds. It molds us in to who we become. It encourages us to be the best we can be, it lifts us up when we've fallen.

I love you, mom. Happy Mother's Day.

My Story

I watched a movie tonight: It's Kind of a Funny Story. Yes, that's the title. It's a movie about this sixteen year old kid who discovers he is suicidal and commits himself to a mental hospital. It's a movie about learning to accept yourself for who you are, and not be afraid of your scars. I watched this movie tonight and I learned a few things about myself in the process.

One, I know I'm not perfect and I'm going to screw up.

Two, I will get depressed sometimes and I will always have regrets.

Three, I don't have to let these facts hold me down.

I don't have to be perfect. I just have to be me. When I screw up, I just need to accept it and move on. I can't let my fears and my scars and my past mistakes (and future mistakes) commit myself to my own personal ward. I need to break free and accept my human imperfections and my OCD/perfectionist tendencies as one part of myself.

There were a couple more things I learned from this movie.

One, I am talented and unique.

Two, I have family and friends who love me and support me.

Three, I can let loose, read, skip, laugh, breathe, and live.

Don't let your mistakes or your fears hold you down. Life is worth living. It really is.

Live the life you have imagined. ~ Henry David Thoreau

My Year's End

Christmas is just around the corner. The new year will follow soon after. 2010 is quietly coming to a close. It was an interesting year. Somehow, it was one my most difficult years but also one of the most rewarding.

Many lonely nights I sat in my car trying to convince myself that driving home is not the right answer. Moving away from everyone I know. What was I thinking? It doesn't make sense really, what I did. I left everything. My family, my friends, my support group, my job, my teachers, my sister's home-cooked meals, and even my parent's Wii. It was all left behind so that I could, what? Eat mac n' cheese every night and live in a shoe box? No. It was left because it was my cushion. It was my comfort zone. Having all those things created this buffer around me so that I never had to think about anything. I never had to figure out who I really was. I moved here to tear off the mask and look in the mirror. It's the scariest thing I've ever done, but I would never grow without coming to grips with that stark reality. This is me. This is me. Oh my goodness, this is ME! I'm awkward and clumsy but I'm also talented and driven. I'm not afraid of who I am. I'm not afraid of who I could be, or who I will be. The future is vast and unimaginable. Full of choices and possibilities; full of failures and triumphs. But now I'm not so afraid of the failures that I'll ignore the possibilities. I'm not afraid of putting my soul on paper for fear that someone will reject me. Of course I'll be rejected. But not by every one. Not every time. And I know now that it will always be worth it to put yourself out there instead of hiding in a corner, afraid of what people might think. Scaring yourself into being someone you're not.

2010. It was a year for facing fears and for new beginnings. It was, overall, a year for going to the world and saying, here I am. Take it or take it because that's your only option.

Merry Christmas, my dear friends. Merry Christmas.

My Opportunities

A few months ago, I went to a church picnic. I was still trying to find the right church for me and was checking out different churches around town. Another Sunday rolled around and I went to this new church. New to me anyways, they happened to be celebrating their 128th anniversary that day. I heard there was free food at the celebration and I NEVER pass up free food so away I go to join in the party. They have this little information booth where you can enter a free raffle for a iPod or something (it seems like all raffles these days are for iPods). I start talking to the guy running the raffle and tell him I'm new to the area and am interested in joining this church. I ask him what kind of programs they have here and he directs me to Maggie, the choir director. I hadn't told the raffle guy that I was a musician, but this is the person he introduces me to. She asks me if I'm musical. I say, "Well yes, I'm a percussionist." At this point she starts screaming and hugging me and jumping up and down in circles. (Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.) It turns out the church owns a pair of timpani and they've been looking for a timpanist for almost two years. In that instant, I became a member of the church, a member of the choir, and their own personal timpanist.

So I bust out my practice pad and start going to choir rehearsals. During my second or third rehearsal, a fellow alto tells me that our pianist is a composer. But not just any composer, he was absent from rehearsal that night because he was rehearsing his new musical at one of Denver's most prominent performing arts theaters. So I build up some courage and catch him after one of our rehearsals. I start with, "I hear you're a composer." "Yeah." . . . Ok, now what? I'm totally fumbling the ball here. Just pick it up and run! "Uh, I kinda compose too sometimes..." Eventually I'm able to spit out that I would like him to look at my score and give me feedback. Of course he's a swell guy and is not nearly as nervous as I am and is happy to look at it.

Tonight I went to my favorite park to finish one of my favorite books: The Complete Guide to Film Scoring by Fred Davis. I read about three pages and suddenly, mixed in with the other joggers and dog walkers, there's this guy sitting on a park bench playing the congas. I start wondering if I should go talk to him. I mean, obviously he has his own congas so he's probably connected to some other musicians. Maybe he could be a connection. But seriously? You want to walk up to a stranger on a park bench and just strike up a conversation with him? Yeah, not really. But I decide that if he's still there by the time I finish my book, then I'll go talk to him. This was a favorable agreement. I had thirty pages left to my book and as my sister will tell you, I am a VERY slow reader. There was no way he would still be there. But once I get down to ten pages left I start counting down each page. Eight pages. He's still here? Six... Five... Oh my gosh he's still here. Three... Two... I give up. I read the last page, put my shoes back on and walk directly toward him.

"Having fun?" I ask. "Yeah, yeah" he replies with an accent that reminds me of the Jamaican Boblsed Team. I continue to shock myself by sitting on the bench next to him. I tell him I'm a percussionist too. He asks me where I play. I told him I'm not really playing right now (except for timpani in church) but that I'm actually working on becoming a composer. I hold up my book so he can see the front cover. His voice goes up an few octaves as he starts yelling "No way!" Again, not quite the reaction I was expecting. But, as before, there's a reason for the excitement. He's a film maker.

Every man is the architect of his own future. Go out and build yours.

Quote #5

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

My Saturday

I told my mom once, I think there are more dogs in Colorado. She replied, maybe people here just walk their dogs more. I've never known a city to be so active. Everyone is always outdoors: playing, riding, walking, jogging. Pedestrians always have the right of way (I think this goes for the entire state) and there are so many cyclists that they have their own lane. The sky is nearly always blue, it hardly ever rains, and the clouds change shape every few minutes. This city has 39 parks, 4 lakes, and a 5 mile long trail that runs along the river. It has dog parks, recreation centers, public pools, and gelato sold in almost every shop (to counteract the activeness of our city).

Today is Saturday. And what a glorious Saturday it is. This morning I took my pug to the dog park where he ignored every dog he saw and stayed right by my side, wondering why I was forcing him to interact with any species besides homosapien. I gave this up after a while, dropped him off at my apartment, and went to one of my town's many parks by myself. My park of choice is really just a big yard. No, it's not the yard for someone's mansion, it really is a park. It even has a paved trail around it's borders, although the park is rather circular in shape so I wonder if you can get dizzy if you run around it enough times. It also has one large shelter that is used for concerts and jazz festivals. But for the most part, it's just one big, green, grassy yard. I brought my book, walked past the trail and into the yard a few feet, laid on the ground and read. There were times back home when I would go to the lake and lay in the grass to read, but I got a lot of strange stares, and only did it a few times before I gave up. The thing about this place is, I wasn't the only one. There were six or seven people scattered around the "yard." Laying down or sitting, reading or sleeping or otherwise just thinking. Some were in the shade of large tree, enjoying the light breeze. Others wanted to soak up the sun and delight in its warmth. On top of that, people would walk to the park from their houses with their dogs or friends, and just, walk. Around the park. Just for the joy of being outside. I saw five or six people who came there to jog and exercise (I never got a chance to ask them if they ever got dizzy). There's nothing special about this park. You can barely even see the mountains above the trees. Why are these people leaving their couches and going to this bland park? Now you may be thinking, duh? This is what people do, right? They go to a park to be outdoors, to enjoy the weather, to play with their dogs. Yes, I agree. But this town, this rather small town, has 39 parks. It needs 39 parks to satisfy all its outdoorsy residents. 1500 acres of parks and open space.

It's no wonder I've changed since I've moved here. How can you not change when you see all these people enjoying their lives so much? How can you not change when you actually take the time to stop and smell the roses? Or in my case, stop to feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your face. My mom got me a mug the other day. (I happen to love mugs for those of you who don't know) This one said, "Do what you like. Like what you do." And I had to ask myself, why not? Why not go out and do what you love? Why not enjoy each sunny day? Why not stop to listen to the rustling of the leaves? To the birds singing? Why not climb a mountain? Why not travel to new places? Why not get up and explore this beautiful world we live in?

Someone once said, "The present is yours. Do with it what you will." Don't settle for anything less than your true potential, and always take time to enjoy the sunshine.

Quote #4

Without ambition one starts nothing. Without work one finishes nothing.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson