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Nov 6, 2008 ramblings
I just read “Grace” by Richard Paul Evans, a novel. An easy yet intriguing read, primarily because it’s a story of the heart. While it’s comprised of classic elements, the outcome is challenging, and very much speaks to my being.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve looked high and low for a summary statement about my feelings toward the deceptive time in which we live. I’m taken aback at the level of compromise our society embraces, and that “making history” became more important than truth, integrity, and honor.
“Grace”, I believe, provided the perspective for which I’ve been searching:
“I had a dream that the world turned to glass.
Those who had much to hide were very afraid.”
When I got over the knot in my stomach, caused by contemplating the vileness of my own heart, I wondered when we, as a people, stopped caring about the level of transparency expected from executive leadership — or how far some are willing to carry out or minimize the impact of a lie for personal gain, or contribute in any way to the fallacy.
There is no stone in my hand, just a question… why?
Oct 24, 2008 muse
We’re all crawling through a tempest these days, or so it seems. Personally, I must admit I didn’t see the uncertainties many folks face today coming, at least not to the depths upon us. But… this is certainly not the first time, and unless Louis Armstrong is called upon to sound the alarm before the advent of our next generations, this piece of history, sadly, will repeat itself.
Through it all, I’m grateful for many things, not the least of which being creative outlets, and in the last couple of weeks I’m trying to make more music by taking less for granted and pushing myself a little harder. Heck, there is no shortage of emotions, so why not try to channel them and get them laid down for posterity. Sure, every song or piece can’t be a gem, but each note counts, and I need to realize that I need to take advantage of every hour I get to play music.
Since taking a creative writing class almost two years ago, I’ve been cruising blogs and sites about writing, novels and such. No, I’m not thinking about writing a novel, but I’m studying that mindset. One payoff has been that I’m allowing myself to take more time and be more satisfied with what I create, and only trying to create until I feel the fountain waning and in need of replenishment. This means more chunks of time (chapters) are needed to get a project done, but that’s OK — as long as I don’t short change the music or song, then every note counts.
There are so many opportunities to create and share, and at some point I really believe I’ll get the goods into some market, somewhere. Whether or not tangible success is achieved, I need to practice, write, and play for the sake of the art and song. I’m way blessed to have the tools and resources, and some level of gifting, it’s the discipline that can be a struggle. Yep, sometimes I just don’t feel like picking up a guitar, or firing up a mic or DAW, but once I do that all changes, and even if all I do is tweak a mix, rewrite a line, or learn another writer/artist’s song, I’m making music and doing what I was created to do.
In the morning I’ll write for the first time with a writer I admire lots. Tomorrow evening I’ll have the opportunity to hang with some pretty darn good musicians and writers and hopefully help someone else enjoy the escape — as long as every note counts, I know I will.
Oct 14, 2008 sojourn
Sometimes things get so frustrating I just can’t think straight, can’t write, the playing and music gets real unsettled and I feel like just walking away from it all. OK, pipe dream, not gonna happen, be stupid anyway, and what does copping out accomplish anyway? Exactly — NOTHING!
My oldest daughter and I have been having some interesting banters of late, come to think of it, it’s been coming fast and furious from everyone in my family these last few weeks. From the inner circle to those I’ve not even seen in years, I’m encountering very interesting perspectives and lots of food for thought.
I need a blow, so I took an extra day off from work, maybe stimulate the muse to visit and lay a “goodie” on me. I’ve got like half a dozen melody/chord combinations floating around my head, can’t take on any more, but I’m waiting for a hook to latch onto, the right theme worth writing about. Don’t wanna go to the politics or helplessness invoked by the political climate, the whole thing is a farce, on BOTH sides, no one is even trying to tell the truth or be of service. Too much personal gain at stake, the level of shame sadly escalating daily.
Not going there… I’m seeing the aqua waters off Captiva and thinking about how I know that feeling, free, peaceful, I wanna go there. Seems a lot of songs these days are about escaping, and why not, stuff’s hitting the fan everywhere we turn. Who doesn’t wanna be somewhere else. I’d like to think there’s a more fulfilling job out there, musical situations that I can really sink my teeth into, a life for my family that fosters a greater level of creativity and joy, it’s out there — I know it.
So here I am, the phrase sticking in my head is “make believe”… my kids want to go there, my wife is in some pretty bad physical pain these days, I’m sure she’d like to go there, over the rainbow like make believe, without the hallucinogens. But then I wake up, make believe is good for a little while, but reality is a cold shower on a February morning in Buffalo, NY. It only takes a few seconds to realize it’s cold, and I’m awake, real awake, and there’s nothing I can do about it if I wanna get clean.
Not sure this is what song I’ll write this week, might not be “Make Believe”, but it sure felt good to get away while I scribed this post =)
Sep 22, 2008 ramblings, sojourn
Yogi Berra may have said it best tonight, “I’m not going to miss it”, referring to Yankee Stadium, where the last game of its storied 85 years was played in front of over 74,000 fans. As a boy, I attended several games and got to see the likes of Pepitone, Mantle, Maris, Howard, play ball on the perhaps the most famous of diamond dust. Too young to really understand the history and lore, more than aware of the dreams it placed in my heart.
Baseball preceded my enamor with music, and very much remained during my stages of developing as a musician. I have childhood memories of oiling my glove in the latter days of each winter in anticipation of the season’s first game of catch. From then until the chill of October we played baseball, stick ball, whiffle ball — any and all forms of our great national past time.
I believe my father had hopes that all his boys would become players. Only my youngest brother and I really stuck it with any semblance of endurance and passion. I gave up softball a few years back because my competitive nature was turning nicks into bodily damage. There’s been a deep void in my soul since that day. My youngest son enjoys the game, but the jury is still out on whether he’ll give what it takes to make a run at college ball or the bright lights of the “bigs”.
Yankee Stadium is an old friend to New Yorkers and the extensive cast of players that graced its stage. I’ve stayed up way too late all too many times during playoff and series games to watch the Yanks, win or lose, and there have been many bittersweet moments.
I’m grateful to say I got to go to the stadium on more than one occasion with my dad; and though he got into the Mets when they came on the scene in the early 60’s, the Yankees were his first love as a New York baseball fan. I’m sure he would have enjoyed the game tonight, and maybe shed a tear like me when the last out was made and the broadcast was over.
I’ll keep Yogi’s words close to the vest and do my best not to miss Yankee Stadium. Jeter, too, said it well, “memories are made to be passed on to generations.” From Rizzuto’s “holy cows”, to Reggie’s three home runs in a single World Series game, to the countless other dramatic plays, hits, and pitching performances, thank you “old friend”. You won’t be missed… so long as you continue to be a part of me and everyone else who chooses to let you live on instead of saying good-bye.
Sep 11, 2008 sojourn
My son is a junior in high school. I asked what type remembrance was observed today at his school… none. There a media types who believe we shouldn’t show pictures of that fateful day, why?
I had a hole in my heart all day thinking back 7-years to the senseless murder of innocent Americans. Anyone who chooses to minimize the importance or disrespect what happened 9-11-01 in any way is hardly an American as defined by the spirit that birthed this country’s freedom!
NEVER FORGET
Aug 29, 2008 hat box, muse
Yesterday I lost a sock, tore my closet up looking for it. Went downstairs checked in the dryer, washer, laundry basket, yep, everywhere I could think of, nothing. I’ll be on the lookout for this cool black and gray sock (cool sock?), maybe I’ll find it, maybe I won’t.
At 2-3 different times I spent about an hour looking for a meaningless article of clothing. As I thought about how ridiculous I looked and how my attitude got so caught up in asking myself and my family (though I really think they were ignoring me) where this sock could be, I contemplated how messed up I get when I’m looking for other answers to questions about life. How much time I waste on meaningless endeavors and how little I spend on growing my soul and creativity, as well as just plain enjoying life itself.
This morning I’m sitting out on the deck with a cup of coffee, and notice a neat little pile of rocks one of our kids is storing in a corner of the yard. All our children have this affinity for rocks. Our two oldest boys spent lots of time in the woods behind the last house we lived in, and my wife would often end up with rocks in the washer because the boys were forever bringing stones home in their pockets but never taking them out.
Rocks, they are everywhere. Some grains of sand, some boulders we carve monuments into. Some we hold, some we climb. Foundational and at times a nuisance, especially when planting a garden, people even buy “pet rocks”, at least they used to. Rocks have Biblical implications, too. God, the Rock of Ages, Moses and the cleft of the rock in Exodus, a stone slayed Goliath, a rolled away stone revealed Christ’s empty tomb.
But much like our human flesh, time and elements turn rocks to dust. So I’m taking this moment to reflect on what I want to do better, and how I might live more passionately for what matters most… whether it’s what I deeply believe, sharing my resources to others, or my own well being. That the ardent search for lost socks just leads to lost time, and rocks are fascinating inanimate objects that can spawn creative thoughts. And that I’m capable of turning these thoughts into art that speaks to the heart of others. Soon enough I’ll be dust, for now I pray for words and actions to make meaningful use of the time I’ve left on this earth.
Aug 16, 2008 faith, sojourn
Last night my wife and I had our fairly typical Friday wind down after the kids went to bed. Sure, we watched the Olympics, albeit while cruising channels in hopes of dodging the standard fare GAC video countdown, and stumbled upon a rerun of Glen Beck doing a full hour interview with Toby Keith, so we hung there for a while.
I’m a fan of both Toby and Glen, so it was interesting to see these almost exact opposites getting along, making sense, and uniting their voices in a rally cry to our country — WAKE UP! They talked about the delta between political and cultural conservatism, patriotism, the right to bear arms, and how the fact they register with different parties doesn’t make either better than the other. Oh, and, neither is sure who they’ll vote for in November, though gut tells me if doubt prevails, each will vote with the party line they claim to back.
It was really cool to see Toby, a man with a bit of a bad-ass reputation, refuse to pass judgment on social perspectives with which he doesn’t agree, or try to dodge questions about his faith in God and country. He’s a pretty basic guy who I think understands the issues and feels if you’re hated by the left and right simultaneously you are very likely on to something good.
This really got me thinking, not about politics or media hype around the coming election, but about the place I’m at with my own hopes, fears, passions, and dreams. I watched a message by Joel Olsteen last week on hope titled “You’re Closer Than You Think“. Say what you want about Joel, he’s different kind of preacher for sure, but the message hit home. He’s an encourager, not a preacher that preys on guilt trips, and I for one needed to hear that God wants to hear my heart cry for hope.
If not God, who?
I think both Glen and Toby believe strongly in God. Neither tries to shove the Gospel (Glen is Mormon) down anyone’s throat, but use fundamental (if not Biblical) principals to guide their lives and raise their families. Groan, not those old, musty principals about honesty and possessions and fidelity… not those principals about how putting our trust in hope in any man being like trying to grow coconuts in Iceland!
So, how much further do we get sucked into the “information age” while running around with our heads neatly tucked away in a dark orifice of choice? Are we safe not verifying what we read or hear from the media, whether Glen Beck, CNN, or the NY Times? How much more “information” can we process as we navigate the course of our very lives and keep the ship from smashing into lurking submerged portions of the ice berg? It’s great we have choices, it’s sad we make so many unfounded and uninformed choices.
I’m finding myself praying a lot more these days, mostly because it seems there are so many more life decisions to make and I can’t process the data fast enough. So I go to the wall, the closet, my knees, a deep breath, a quiet cry. In the end, there’s so much out of my control, all I can do is hope.
Here’s an excerpt from a lyric I’m working on for a new song:
Pain is never ordinary
Burdens get so hard to carry
When regrets I just can’t bury
Leave me numb and cold
All I have to hold
All I really know
All I have is hope
Copyright (c) Angelo Melendez
Aug 7, 2008 faith, sojourn
I just got done watching Larry King’s interview with the family of Steven Curtis Chapman. It’s been just over two months since their adopted daughter accidentally died in their driveway. I am grateful for their willingness to share the details of the tragedy, the journey since that day, and the faith that gives them strength to carry on.
I can’t imagine going through what they’ve experienced, I can only pray I never do. While the Chapman family’s faith is apparently strong, I wonder how they managed the first day after losing their little girl? I wonder how every reminder of her and that fateful day impact their every breath?
I saw Steven perform in early April, and even as far away as I was in the back of the venue, his joy, persona, and amazing talent was both inspiring and infectious. He said, very humbly, during the interview he now sings his songs more passionately and with deeper conviction, though just a few weeks ago he was unsure if he could ever perform again.
A woman called during the interview and shared a passage from Psalms about how before God created the first day he planned our very lives. I believe Steven and his family believe this, and their faith is so foundational that their openly sharing about the tragedy is bringing others to a place where they can better deal with grief or anger in their own lives.
Since the day I heard about the loss of their child, the Chapman family has been on my heart and in my prayers. To see them join Larry King and the world live to discuss their faith and encourage us all was a great blessing to me, and gives me reason to live out loud for what I believe. I don’t want to use the Gospel as a hammer, but a brush to paint the life I want others to see in and through me. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my journey… I need to be ready to make the most of it.
Jul 29, 2008 muse
Last week I was cleaning my studio/office, specifically my desk, glancing at notes I’ve been taking for months, and came across one piece of paper with some scratch about a song evaluation, so I saved it and went on clearing off my desk. See, I’d been reading about how clutter can inhibit creativity, and thought, hey the well has been pretty dry of late, the room’s in some disarray, why not?
Things came along nicely, got some new shelving put together, some dusting, tossed a bunch of stuff, yeah, this is looking pretty good! So, second pass through the pile of “maybe” stuff to keep or notes to transfer into a notebook, and I’m back to this piece of paper with the song notes, and I spot a chord progression I’d jotted down, along with a hook idea that read “I Don’t Like Secrets”.
As I messed around a bit with the chords, a melody popped out pretty quick. So, in an attempt to show a bit of discipline, I grabbed my pencil and notebook and headed away from guitar and studio and started writing. A few lines make the sheet, nothing that seemed all that promising, yet, these first few lines turned into the first verse, almost verbatim.
Within five days I have a complete song, run it through a feedback session on SongU, get a few good ideas for taking it to the next level with very minor tweaks to either lyric or music. This isn’t the norm, so as I think back over the last week and the amount of time I put into not only cleaning my room, but restructuring my approach to disciplining myself as a writer, listening and reading more, and not trying to write under formulaic constraints, and out comes a song that I not only really enjoyed writing, but enjoy playing and singing.
Needless to say, I’m taking this as a sign that more good songs are right around the corner, but it’s going to take even more persistence and drive to establish consistency in my writing and output — perhaps most importantly, I need to enjoy the process as much as I have over the last week.
Click here if you’d like to take a listen to “Secrets”… enjoy!
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