Curse Words are Verbs

If you look towards the right of my blog page you will see a banner for Curse Words are Verbs. Joel is a friend of mine from Vegas and writes his own music. He's got a unique sound and really good lyrics. Check him out!

Drop the expectations and bow your head.

There is all this controversy clouding the christian community right now about what Kathy Griffin stated at the Emmy Awards.

Her statement: “A lot of people come up here and thank Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus. He didn’t help me a bit.” Griffin then said, "Suck it, Jesus. This award is my god now."

Labeled a "Hate Speech" by thousands of christian bloggers. The uproar and backlash came quick. Quick much like when the Jews and Romans and who knows who else, demanded the beating and death of this Jesus.

What was Jesus' response after such a gruesome and personal situation two thousand years ago?

Love them. Pray for them. Drop your expectations because you are not perfect either.

Life is less stressful, selfish, and dissapointing if you let go of expectations.

Nobody owes you anything. Your neighbor, the government, your family, your friends, hollywood...the list goes on.

Respect. Love. Fairness. Grace. Mercy. Life.

Nobody has ever owed you these things.

Don't freak out if someone is rude to you, or mocks your faith, or just acts like a complete jackass towards you. What can we expect? You know?

We're all dirty humans that are clean on occasion.

The old woman who scowls at me.

1. The usual. This morning, at 7:53am I open my garage, enjoy the warm sun touching my face and push my 500 pound bike out and onto my driveway.

2. The unusual. A policeman in his Longmont issue Dodge Charger, parked across the street from my house.

3. The air. Calm and quiet.

4. The air after I start my bike. Calm but loud for 7:55am.

5. The usual. I make my way down Jewel Dr. towards 19th St.

6. The unusual. A policeman in his Longmont issue Dodge Charger, following me.

7. The air. Annoying and filled with red and blue lights flashing all over the freakin place.

8. The air after I turn off my bike. Filled with the phrase/question "What the crap?"

9. The usual. I am confused and about to get angry.

10. The unusual. I didn't get a ticket. The cop was nice to me, he even laughed at the old woman who called the police department every morning for the past two weeks because of my obnoxious hell raising motorcycle.

Cute but eats his poop.

Emitt. Our dog. Our puppy who eats his own poop and would probably eat yours if he had the chance. It pisses me off because he won't stop. To tell you the truth, I get this crazy urge to kick him across the kitchen, pick him up and roll him like a bowling ball down the hall, or say a word that would dissapoint my grandmother. Good thing for him I always revert to the third choice which makes my wife laugh. Let me tell you more...

I set my alarm for 2:30am every morning to let him out. I don't prefer it but it is a must until his bladder is bigger. I'll drag myself out of bed and stand in my back yard sporting only my boxers with our security spot light shining down on me from above. If you happen to catch me in this situation you would probably mistake me for an angel from heaven. Anyways, standing there with my eyes locked on our puppy, I am wide eyed and ready to make a run for him.

He knows where he pooped last. I don't. So I watch. I'll wait. He acts like he just happens upon his pile but I know otherwise. In an instant he finds his midnight snack that he left hours earlier and I sprint towards him, he sprints away and I try not to yell too loud. He pisses and runs to the door all the while licking his poop covered chops. I scoop him up and explain to him that I don't care how cute he is and place him gently back into his crate.

Poop.

DPA Microphones.

I work for this company called DPA Microphones. In my own words I must say that they make the highest quality microphones ever made. This probably doesn't mean much to you because you probably don't know much about microphones and I don't really feel like explaining why they are the best, so I won't.

Anyways...My job consists of shipping/recieving at most 20 boxes a day. I ship thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of mics in just a few small boxes. The crazy thing is that $48,000 worth will fit into maybe 10 boxes or so, all smaller than 10in x 10in x 10in. Just today I sent out a box that would fit a four pound Chiuaua. This little guy held $16,000 worth of mics. That is a car, a nice brand new car. That box had the car that I want gently packed inside. Amazing.

Along with shipping I also design website ads, magazine ads, posters, etc.

So that is my job. 8am to 5pm. Monday through Friday.

Some of my paintings...

*** All are done with some or all of the following:

>Spray Paint
>Air Brush
>Paint Pens
>Sharpie Marker
>Prismacolor Markers

Big Ben: 12in x 36in

Jump it: 24in x 36in

Radio Man: 24in x 36in

Television: 16in x 24in

Need = Foundation = Love ?

I know my daughter Olive Mae looks like a little boy in this photo but that isn't what caught my attention. And I know there is an absolutely hilarious look on her face but that wasn't it either.

What first came to my mind was how dumb and helpless she looks. For the most part she isn't that smart, don't get me wrong, she has the potential to be a genius and I am sure she will be very intelligent. As of right now though, she is running off of instinct. Sleeping when she is tired. Waking when she is hungry. Crying when she is hurt or frustrated. Laughing when she is happy. She isn't trying to figure out why she needs me or why her poop smells.

Her actions and interaction with and towards people around her are rooted in her emotions, not a clear concise use of her mind. Her parents love it! We're certainly not dissapointed that she isn't carrying on sentences that distract from their deeper meaning. We simply love the fact that she needs us, has faith in us, and possibly unknowing to herself, loves us.

This sparked some questions in my life:

If we are supposed to become like children in reference to faith, do I need to look like Olive does in this picture? Is my mere intelligence bombarding the foundation of my humanness? Do I need to confess my frailty, shut my mouth, and simply need God?

Sense of Provision.

Wide eyed at 3:30am I sat up in bed and slowly touched the skin of my bare feet to the cold hardwood floor of my bedroom. My wife took back the covers that I stole and looked warm and comfotable. I was jealous in a sinful way. I guess the cold and uncomfortable is worth it sometimes. At that point my dad was on his way to pick me up so I became invisible with my shaggy camo everything, skipped my bowl of Smacks and hoped that he'd bring powdered doughnuts for the always quiet bumpy ride up endless dirt roads.

I was going elk hunting with my dad for the first time in over five years. I grew up hunting and fishing. Killing animals for food. Or was is sport? Back then it was more for sport. Or even truer, the way I was to become a man. I was very young when I figured out that my thumb and index finger could become a pistol, I was a reckless killer. There was always excitement and curiousity in the life and death of things, especially in the eyes of a boy. I am 26 now, will things be different this time around?

We worked our way up an old mining road that has been closed for over 80 years. It was nice to have a clear path while the sky was still dark. I'll estimate and say we were two miles in from where we parked. Our backs up against a boulder high above where the elk were guessed to be, we had an amazing view. The sun was slowly revealing what we had just walked through and where we wanted to go. It is funny how different things look when you can actually see them.

In this particular area that we were hunting the elk will move from low to high from morning to night. Elk will usually cut through small clearings throughout the day to feed so what we needed to do is find the paths (game trails) that they normal take. From our vantage point we picked out a clearing that was probably at best a mile and a half south from where we were sitting. We mapped out a plan to swing out west and then head south-east so that the light breeze would be in our faces thus carrying our scent away from where we wanted to be. About an hour later we come to the edge of this clearing and find that there are five to six small trees that are torn to pieces. This means that we were treading on a certain bull elks' territory. Our blood started pumping a bit faster because right down the middle of these rubs was a well beaten path that the elk have been taking. Our morning just got a little bit more exciting as we made our way up this path.

My senses hightened. All of a sudden I wished that I also had a bow in hand and quiver slung across my back. Maybe it is because I have a family now but I felt like I was supposed to be there right at that moment. I felt like I was made to hunt. I felt like a man with a purpose. Sport just became necessity. I was on the trail of a 900 pound beast of an animal. An animal that if the wind changes direction will know that I am within a mile of him. An animal that if I snap a twig beneath my foot, it would be a matter of minutes before he is over the next hill.

For some reason I am in front of my dad. This doesn't make sense to me because ever since I can remember he has been known to have "eagle eyes." Even more importantly, he has the bow. Nevetheless, with me leading, our claimed trail made its way into the dark timbre. Pine trees develop a canopy that turns day into night. It is a surreal feeling, inching forward on a path, being able to see at most 20 yards in any direction, concentrating on anything that could be a 900 pound animal. My eyes were crossing, I thought I'd seen some movement, it was a birds flutter of a wing, a moth passing through a slight beam of sunlight, the flicker of an elks ear. Movement for just moments. Stillness for minutes. We are playing the same game. Us and this elk. We know he is in there. Does he know we are here? Apparently not. My eyes shift to our left and I freeze. I see a huge set of shoulders, a light brown. My heart skips a beat or seven. Both my dad and I slowly position our camoflaged bodies behind a massive pine tree thus not relying on human efforts of printing tree bark on clothing. My dads eyes are bigger then I remember. He hands me his backpack as I peak around the tree and see the elk lift his head. How does this massive animal move so easily and quietly in here? His antlers towering to probably nine feet off the ground. He moves away from us, yet I don't think he knows we are sharing the same earth together. My dad goes left and I go right. I need to push this elk towards my dad. There is no chance for a shot unless this elks breath is so close it is felt. Maybe thirty seconds pass and this slow moving, silent animal dissapears. My eyes blink in an exaggerated way, just as slow and silent. Out of desperation I quicken my pace only to realize that our chance just slipped into the darkness of this day.

Blood pressure dropping back to normal. Our sense of time, dull. Our hunger is high so we sit on the edge of an open area and discuss what should have been. We eat the best damn Clif Bars ever packaged. I document our mood in a digital manner. A little dissapointed and confused but knowing that we just made a memory that is worth remembering. We treck on and study the patterns of these beasts for the rest of the day knowing that we may once again come face to face with our prey.

A simple day in the woods revealed some things for me:

1. I learned that I could be greatful for early mornings.
2. Sometimes it is good to be uncomfortable.
3. Purpose is fulfulling.
4. I love my family.
5. Powdered doughnuts taste amazing.
6. Elk smell like wet dog.
7. There are creatures that live in harmony with God.
8. Even the smallest of wild flowers are beautiful.

An album I think you should have...

The outcome of Jarrod Gorbels' solo folk musings. The Honorary Title began with Gorbel and Aaron Kamstra, who made their rounds on the New York City club scene before signing to indie label Doghouse Records. In 2004, their debut album Anything Else But the Truth portrayed the true and pronounced passion of Gorbel’s voice and precise lyrics with pop hooks that grab and won't let go. Naturally they went on tour and picked up both Kamstra’s long-time friend Jonathan Wiley to play guitar and keyboard along with ex-Format drummer Adam Boyd. Three years later finally release their long awaited sophmore record.

"Scream and light up the sky" is much bigger in sound and packs just as much substance as their first. Just released in August of 2007 this is an album that quickly became one of my all time favorites. To describe the songs as a whole I would have to label them as indie-pop. There is so much charm, emotion and truth in Gorbels' voice. With sounds of jazz, rock, and pop there is a genuine and timeless sound to the whole which will make you sing at the top of your lungs or sway to a slow and smooth '50s throw-back. The best part is that they are keeping true to their unique style that sets them apart from so many other bands.

I highly recommend you pick up the album. It's amazingly catchy and can be listend to at any time, any where, in any mood. As with any album, read through the lyrics while listening through.

And of course for those who like to try before you buy:

The whole album is free to stream at http://www.purevolume.com/thehonorarytitle.

Ah, Friday.

There is excitment in the air. It is friday and I have the whole day planned. Although I need to walk through the doors of DPA Microphones at 8:00am I will stretch my dreams till about 7:40am. I have my clothes ready bedside in what I call a neat pile (My wife might argue that description). This not so neat pile enables me to throw two legs off the bed and striaght into my pants. I will work my way into a shirt while stumbling into the bathroom to clean my teeth and freshen my breath. Usually I will releave myself of useless fluids and make a decision of whether I will eat a bowl of cereal or just sip a double espresso. I let the dog outside knowing he barely made it through the night without soaking himself in his crate. I fire up my espresso machine and do what I did best for the last five years at Starbucks. Briefly I sit on our black futon covered in white cat hair and talk myself into believing eight hours at work is a small price to pay when it means I can afford to go rock climbing with my wife nine hours from now. I drop my head, stand up, let the dog in, and grab my motorcycle helmet. Ah, it's Friday.

I'll give my bike a little extra throttle as I crouch low and make sure my neighborhood knows that I am a fire breathing dragon on this good day. I don't know if you know anything about motorcycle exhaust but when you have a straight pipe on your bike like I do, life is amazing and angry at the same time. Ah, still Friday.

I try my best to stay focused at work, not letting the teasing weekend throw me off track, but it does. I finish half of what I should get done and leave the rest completely lonely in a dark office for two days. Ah, sweet sweet Friday.

The work day is done and I am on my way home. I have a grin from ear to ear which of course nobody can see because of my motorcycle helmet, good thing cause I look like a crazed lunatic. I jump off my bike and barrel roll onto our front yard like I am Arnold Schwarzenegger in his latest action movie. "Get back to da choppa!" I yell to all within shooting distance. Well, actually I'm lying. I would sound like a comedian, hurt myself and ruin the weekend if I did such a crazy thing so I carefully park in the driveway and work my helmet off. I love throwing my head back like I have long flowing hair which I am sure is quite a sight for bored eyes but I don't care because I am about to give my wife a kiss, drop my daughter off at her grandparents house, listen to loud music in our great white shark of a Volvo 240, and rock climb in one of the best climbing gyms in the country. Ah, I love Fridays.

Bored and slightly confused.

Don't get me wrong I am greatful for my life. I feel like I have oppurtunities that outweigh most people. I have a beautiful wife and daughter. I just bought a house where my cat chases my slobbering bulldog across slippery hardwood floors. I own a motorcycle. I eat lunch everyday accompanied by 16oz of sugar and caffeine. But I feel tired and worn. There is an ache in my head that won't go away. It is right on time though. Usually around the time when seasons change my life feels like it turns upside down and all the blood in my body rushes to my head. I think it has to do with the fact that at any given moment I can point out areas in my life where my own expectations were not met. This in conjunction with a change in weather and baromic pressure creates a vice that squeezes the life out of my brain and confuses the hell out of me. People around me start shooting questions such as "Jarrod, is something wrong?" "Jarrod, are you upset with me?" "Do you need to talk about something that is bothering you?". Usually this lasts for a couple of weeks until it all sorts itself out inside my own head and someone snaps a finger which creates just enough wind to wake me up and pull me out of bed.

Life gets wierd when you lose your bearings. Life gets crazy when you forget what you live for or realize what you live for is not worth the time or effort. So then you throw a big fat ball of regret right at your own face which is hard to imagine cause it doesn't seem like a task that is physically possible but it works and when it hits you it knocks you on your ass.

Does anyone have a hockey mask I can borrow?

One of Gods wonderful gifts.

I have that fuzzy feeling. The state where your body wants to lie down and close its eyes. Somehow gravity gets stronger. Coaxing me to fold my arms in the shape of a pillow. Such a great gift God gave us. Our very own personal portable pillow. Comes in handy at work.

I just lost my virginity

The greatest thing just happend.

I'm pretty excited about it.

For some reason I feel fresh.

I am a glass of cold orange juice balancing on the edge of something big that I have not experienced and am convinced it will change my life in some way.

I am compelled to go out and buy a laptop and messenger bag and sit outside of a coffee shop, connect myself to a vast world of color and text, words and ideas.

I feel important.

I need to tell the world.

I am now a blogger.