January 27, 2011

to some, being or becoming joyful is an art form.

there isn’t much time spent on waiting for happiness.

it is hastily plucked from the fruitful tree of willingness without hesitation.

call me an optimist, but i truly believe that we have the ability choose a joyful outset.

i’m not always happy.

i simply like to get carried away by the small blessings.

there are some situations that are simply dreadful.

some aspects of life cannot be met with happiness, i am aware.

i, for one, could certainly take more time counting my blessings.

what i am getting at is simple.

if you will yourself to be happy, joyful, motivated, willing, open, encouraged, enthusiastic, optimistic.

maybe glance at the negative and thrust positives in its way.

you can.

God wants us, you, me, the people you hate and even nickelback (yes, even nickelback*) to be joyful.

a joyful heart is good medicine.

proverbs 17:22

joyfulness is healthy and uplifting and medicinal as much as it biblical.

i never want to discount what God has done for me.

i don’t want to shuffle through all he has done for those i love.

it’s far too much blessing to not live in reverence of.

worthy of pious nature, in my opinion.

happiness is a rudimentary aspect of life.

you were built to smile and find solace and wonder in what God has lain before you.

i pray i never forget that.

all for now.



*nickelback will never be mentioned in this blog again.


in regards to authorship

January 26, 2011

the idea of whispering “welcome back” to myself as i type may seem a bit foolish.

i’m no published or syndicated writer.

it’s always a struggle to continue with the creative when the days are continually saturated with creative demand.

i’m thankful for that.

it makes for a challenge.

time to brush off the rust.

time to exercise my right of free speech in the digital world once more.

so, what do i write about?

nothing that i would care to hammer out of my keyboard is anything less than deserving of my personal touch of lower case, double-spaced and lingually challenging fare.


i’ve had a knack for basing my writing off of a deep appreciation for language.

structure of words.


wittiness and complete lack for the expected, grammatically acceptable and anything reachable by the yardstick that is constantly used for the status quo.

maybe this is my litmus test.

a drastic change that has been well in the making for months.

a syntactical marinade.

i’m not sure that i really have ever had anything just or monumental to speak of.

i’ve never been a man of metrics, analytics or numerical comparison.

i’m an impressionistic typist and author.

i want to know what you thought of my writing.

or what you didn’t think of it.

i write with a simple and unachievable goal in mind.


i don’t believe the human race is completely capable of expressing everything we have in mind.

it’s what keeps our destitute planet interesting and shrouded in mystery.

i’m not trying to solve a problem or take any lunging steps toward social good.

this is an art form that i enjoy.

i have imaginative, and sometimes bizarre, thoughts in my mind.

sometimes i like to write them down.

i hope you read them.

all for now.



multi-sensory sentimentality

October 29, 2010

each year brings about the nostalgic ghosts of years past.


we are creatures of habit.

we tend to sink into comfortable molds that are habitually varying on an individualistic and familial basis.

this time of year gives you the perpetual “warm fuzzies,” that everyone resonates with, but can never truly define.

the mysterious and sensational reception of the holiday season gives off an irresistible aura and warmth.

i, personally, know when the holiday season starts.

it’s never the fashion in which wal-mart juxtaposes their holiday decor. (which i believe is set before customers in mid-july….)

nor is it the crisp entrance into the morning air upon the exit of your home.

it’s the sounds.

the smells.

the color spectrum of north america changing from the hustle and bustle of summer into a hue of memories reconnection.

whether you like it or not, you will create emotional and memorial ties with what you have previously experienced.

you are conditioned to remember the way your environment(s) felt.

the way they tasted.



my holiday season starts when a cool night is perfectly accompanied by beneath medicine tree by copeland.

the song “coffee,” in particular.

music with strong ties to memory will always have the sound of novelty.

there is never grumbling preceding by exponential listening.

it’s amazing how the ear can be so transfixed on sounds and create this picture of how it is to be interpreted.

time and time again.

would you say that your nose does the same with smells?

our bodies team up with each individual sense to bring us back to our rudimentary understanding of nostalgia.

we forget….right up to that moment.

in that instance of self-aggrandizing realization, you are found once again.

the holidays are meant for re-experiencing.




another listen.

the warmth that only your heart and spirit can give off.

the smells of those incredible cinnamon brooms at the grocery store.

oddly illuminated street medians festooned with lights, autumn-like hay bails and scarecrows.

your favorite winter coat.

all embraced with the culmination of holiday/year-end sensory.

this may not be news, per say.

just keep in mind that your heart has the capability of giving the spark to start someone’s holiday season.

all for now.





music having the sound of novelty

the ear can be transfixed on sounds much like the way your memory, and nose in unison, can be transfixed on smells.


October 22, 2010

we are not exactly “welcomed” to earth when we are born.

not even some form of infant-like, sunday morning baptist handshake is given upon the first breath entering your nostrils.

it’s an odd process.

the first breath you take is your introduction.

a dashing entrance.

your red carpet upon entering the world.

it’s your right to be added to the human element.

much as God breathed life into adam’s nostrils, you, as an infant, are given the right to live and be classified as living with God’s willing and generous breath of life.

a shred of detail that is slightly overlooked or not truly paid homage to.

life has evolved since the dawn of creation.

we aren’t preoccupied with the rudimentary details of what cultivating life entails (anymore).

what happened to the days of laying ear and hand to the ground and not knowing where to find the most fertile soil?

what was once creation, invention, exploratory finding, uncovering and amazement has turned to simplicity.

we don’t find ourselves shrouded in wonderment and awe in the prospect of a new day approaching.

we simply…..expect.

we expect the new day to come and to carry forth with our plans.

we feel entitled to our convoluted interpretation of what is expected of us.

nay, says i.

this is such a minor detail that we find ourselves engulfed with.

we can’t see past our short-sightedness in our self-fulfilling paradoxes.

our plans.

our obligations.

our time management.

the petty things that we hold so tight.

all are but a blink of an eye.

the simplicity that was once found in the eyes of man.

the deep that God made explorable.

still remains.

we just need to stop covering it with complication.

all things have their base-level of deserved appreciation.

not because we give it meaning.



but that God has made all.

that is the only need of representational credibility.

our stamp of approval doesn’t give any final word.

God wills all and breaths life into all.

He will give and take away in ways that bring him glory and in ways that are inexplicable.

we aren’t in need of welcome or introduction.

don’t fear the unknown.

jump in.

evening prayer ends your day.

God gives you breath each morning.

sleep well and wake ambitiously.

all for now.




finding intrigue, where you normally wouldn’t, typically qualifies as an auspicious occasion.

consider the prompt for this entry, in my eyes, intriguing.

and, thus, auspicious.

the idea of living a particular “story” isn’t something i ponder often.

i suppose a larger portion of my life has been centered around the act of seeking….comfort.


an appreciated occupation.

a place of my own construct to call home.



and love.

my own slice of what north american dreams are made of.

i suppose i’ve found aspects of these things.

but now i find myself filled with anticipation.

i don’t want to live a life, or…story, rather, of predictability.


the idea of a fathering a family, residing on the east coast and a well-paying job sounds….comfortable.

taking the occasional vacation.

allotting money for things i don’t need.

that has all been done before.

a lot.

i want to live my story.

i don’t want to live a story that has already been semi-dictated.

i want a story of surprise.


a hook and turning point thrown in the mix without expectation.

for a reference of time, we’ll say, oh… three to five years.

i want to put my dreams of starting my own artist development firm into play.

now, i’m not much of one for recreating the wheel.

i don’t want to follow in the footsteps of a major record label or organization.

i wouldn’t even want to look into purchasing office space.

just a name for my firm.

maybe some nicely designed and printed business cards.

an ergonomically designed logo to put on everything.

an economical and practical vehicle for necessary travel.

throw in an ipad for good measure?

i want to grow musicians, graphic artists, writers, painters, photographers, singers, muralists, dancers.

the whole gamut.

i want to consult their dreams and aspirations and take practical steps with them.

i would help them book the show they wanted to play.

feature their art or photography in the exhibit they’ve been seeking.

find them a wall to paint the mural they’ve envisioned.

and go so far beyond that.

i would want to challenge them.

make them move towards the seemingly out of reach goal.

always being pushed and pulled to where they would think they are inadequate yet so utterly capable.

providing as much funding as i could possibly muster and helping them raise or locate any additional.

driving them to where they need to go.

buying them lunch/dinner.

befriending them in a way they’ve never experienced.

making dreams into (in some instances) tangible reality.

with no restriction of distance.

working from place to place with a different destination daily, monthly or yearly.

forming genuine relationships with promising and passionate creatives.

a traveling artist developer/consultant.

the odd part is that i don’t want to have anything handed to me on a platter.

i want to know what it’s like to work alongside someone else’s dream and struggle in the process.

i want to live under pressure.

time constraint.

possible scrutiny.

scrape by.

not a lot….but some.

experience what it’s like to run out of gas and needing to get one of my artists to a show or an interview.

miss a flight.

have to think creatively how to make money in order to eat.

sleep in the car or camp out because all money has been spent to keep progressing.

vagabonds by choice….but with an aim and landing point.

now that sounds like living.

the snag or conflict arises in the fact that i would be writing the “how to” manual.

i’d have to be doing as much as i would be learning.

that is terrifying.

yet so exciting and filled with anticipation that it’s uncomfortable.

i would get to be a part of a (temporary) stranger’s life.

watching them pursue their dreams with me as their coach.

and friend.

it wouldn’t be your conventional plan of attack.

maybe that’s why it sounds so attractive.

as much as i want to pursue this dream and live this story, i am not the protagonist.

i’m only a small part.

one small instrument.

i need God.

it is all for His glory.

i suppose that’s why i find this intriguing.

this contest could perspectively produce the result of myself and a friend attending a seminar in portland, oregon.

with donald miller as the speaker….yes.

i’ve always appreciated donald miller’s style of writing.

it’s raw, believable, witty and quasi-relatable.

having a candid opportunity to hear his, and other’s, insight(s) would be priceless.

i’ve never attended a seminar quite like this.

it would provide the chance for me to delve into the idea of viewing my life as an actual….story.

find meaning where it may have gone unnoticed before.

the chance to look at my life or perspective future through the lens of a screenwriter. (shameless blog contest plug)

possibly give me a shove in the right direction to actually start this artist developer gig?

the pages can be blank for now.

i don’t want to be in control.

i’ve already learned (sometimes redundantly) that i’m a pretty lousy pilot.

God hasn’t let me down, nor will he ever.

his penmanship throughout the story of my life, thus far, has been seamless.

i’ll let the author of life to fill in the rest.

all for now.



Living a Better Story Seminar from All Things Converge Podcast on Vimeo.

one, zero, zero.

July 26, 2010

today marks a momentous occasion, as some would see fit.

not by design, but today, july 26, 2010, will contain my one-hundredth post to this blog.

i’m not much of an advocate of this number.

it’s predictable.




at the very least, in its own deserved construct, one hundred is celebratory.

i set out with this blog for the sole opportunity of writing.

no intention of persuasion.

nor commentary.

nor personal stance.

i simply love to….write.

the medium of blogging has been incredibly cathartic and inspiring.

i’ve loved developing my own writing style.

contributing to what may be noncontributional.

i’ve sincerely enjoyed ignoring unrecognizable words from wordpress.

creating my own language.

i’ve always been an avid communicator.

this has been my first stab at writing with a unseeable audience.

thank you to those that have read my words.

put up with my infrequent banter.

also, thank you to those that write.

i love to indulge in your thoughts.

you are an inspiration.

i could tell you that i “look forward to the next one-hundred posts.”

who knows.

there may not be another one-hundred.

there could only be two.


(punctuate this sentence with an ellipses)

maybe i’ll just head down the route of writing a book.

….of sorts.

i end with this:

today is a good day.

all for now.



revelations and epiphanies are not something that happen in my every day-to-day.

other than realizing that i’m hungry and the simple solution is intake.

nothing greatly of frequency or note.

having different truths revealed throughout life isn’t always preceded by signals.

not always clairvoyant.

delivered ever so surreptitiously.

i’m not much of one for bringing up wrongs and mishaps.

call it salvaging any shred of my pride.

but who really cares?

i’ve bought into plenty of ideals, “truths” and dilemmas over and over.

when i thought i had known better.



all to my self-aggrandizing misfortune.

i made my own truths self-evident.

true to me and and considered plausible.

luckily, (or necessarily), there are times, even for yours truly, where you realize you know nothing.

you have nothing.

such is nothing without the actual God given truth set into play in your life.

i’m back to the drawing board.

back to square one.

back to a cliche’ place that other figures of speech can describe.

i don’t want to call the shots.

i’ve tried before.

let’s move toward something a little more novel.




possibly or seemingly frightening.

time to fly.

time to fight.

time to be a better….me.

all for now.



we aptly construct individual conquests.

seeking always what will advance us in some way, shape or form.


financial stability.




others only want to seek what is beautiful.

the experience.

the tangible.

the cognitive recall of what wonders may take shape as.

some want to be….found.

a venture of finding one’s self.

quite the gambit for some.

they may not end up liking what they find.

others need to know what they are made of.

the rudimentary staples of simply being and becoming.

our world has the capability of presenting strategically placed facades.

tearing through this farce with unrelenting hope of growing can be painful.


necessary nonetheless.

some are on a conquest for truth.


existence does not come with set of instructions or description of origin.

at our most basic level of survival, we are all in search of truth.

unified in the search of answers, yet so disconnected in our approach.


we have all missed some vital aspects of acknowledging the human element.

the hopeful part of being a resident of planet earth is that will never know everything.

knowing everything would make us God.

He is the only one who needs to know everything.

we are but small instruments.

don’t strive to be the loudest.

He already makes the loudest noise and it’s all we need to hear.

all for now.




July 19, 2010

i remember enjoying the arrival of the mail-lady when i was younger.

we had a mail-lady. not your stereotypical, north american mailman.

in fact, wordpress doesn’t like the spelling of maillady and hastily identifies it as a misspelled word.

good gracious.

there’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

i always looked forward to her dropping off the mail by hand.

never in the mailbox.

always in my own two hands.

the forging of a friendly acquaintance via sealed paper envelopes and packages.

i always had something.

some item that i was desperately awaiting the arrival of.


assorted band merchandise.

something involving video games.

letters from a friend in virginia.

there was always….something.

it’s an interesting concept.

sending and receiving items secondarily in another individual’s care.

feelings, emotions, messages and all things tangible placed within envelopes and boxes.

next to face-to-face communication, the mail is my next choice.

delivering all things to be said posthaste.

i hope this medium never ceases to exist.

coming home to a neatly placed parcel on my doorstep can dramatically change my attitude.

always filled with intrigue and anticipation.

i still receive care packages from home.

knowing that you can open a menagerie of home-inspired elements on your kitchen table, hundreds of miles away from your family, makes every day like christmas.

all for now.




July 15, 2010

days such as these are beautiful.

currently being spent in the closest starbucks.

next to the large windows.

devoid of the heat from summer’s sun.

for now.

comfortable atmosphere.

nothing truly novel to blog about without sounding redundant in my own mind.

i suppose an update is in order.

center city church is doing well.

growing week by week.

tons of community, fellowship and relationships being forged.

the beginning stages of this have been amazing for everyone involved.

not all is noteworthy of the positive upswing, but beautiful and educational nonetheless.

charlotte is a beautiful place to live.

music for the musically savvy.

food for the culinaries and gastronomes.

family-friendly establishments for the familial.

gorgeous weather. most days.

i love my city.

i miss my parents.

i will be an uncle within the next few months.

caleb benjamin getz.

needless to say, he will be my favorite nephew.

reasoning should be universally understood.

life is beautiful and challenging.

my heart has been heavy but hopeful.

i feel this is the beginning of God refining what i thought of myself.

taking away the veil.

a peaceful nudge into adulthood.

more fully everyday, my cup overflows.

my cup overflows.

my cup.


all for now.