An Ode To Skillet

One Day Too Late I realized I wasn't quite ready to be Awake And Alive, so I told everyone who came into my room "Don't Wake Me, because I feel like a Monster." My Forsaken mother told me that I need a Hero to bring me from my Comatose state of mind. Under My Skin I felt this lack of Energy and lay idly to watch it Cycle Down, and as I was Falling Inside The Black of sleep I thought to myself that I should have given A Little More effort to waking up because I was raised to Never Surrender... and yet Sometimes I just feel like The Older I Get the more it starts Eating Me Away, slowly driving me crazy until all I hear are Whispers In The Dark. I often battle with Those Nights, only to have them say to me "It's Not Me It's You" and attempt to Say Goodbye and leave me alone in my thoughts of my laziness. I feel my Open Wounds laced through my Imperfection, and I resolve that I'm going to Rebirth and Believe that this is The Last Night that My Obsession with wallowing in my own lethargy is going to hold me down. So I got up and said good morning to my sister Lucy and cleaned myself off, Fingernails included. I noted that my laziness hadn't tried to stop me, for it in itself was too lazy, and I said to it "You Should've When You Could've."

This story doesn't make very much sense, but I managed to feature almost every Skillet song I have in it. I feel so accomplished.

Songs I have that I missed putting in:
"Earth Invasion."
"Forgiven."
"Collide."
"Yours To Hold."
"Better Than Drugs."
"Looking For Angels."

J R Williams

Mental Overload of Musical Possibility

The Newsboys.
Skillet.
Toby Mac.
Tenth Avenue North.
Matthew West.
Thousand Foot Krutch.
Fireflight. Disciple.
The Afters.
Sanctus Real.
Manafest.
Sidewalk Prophets.
Chris August.
Stellar Kart.
Phil Wickham.
And about eight or nine other Christian bands. Three words. Spirit West Coast. THESE GUYS ARE ALL GOING TO BE IN CONCERT TOGETHER IN THE SAME DAY. I. Am. So. Going.

Home, War, and Unemployment

The move from Utah to California has officially come to its close. My dad and I flew back to Salt Lake City to load a second moving truck and drove it back to Lodi (California) yesterday. The drive took roughly 14 and a half hours. Yeah, it really WAS as fun as it sounds. And by fun, I mean not fun in any remote way whatsoever. The goodbye was heart-wrenching; granted, upon returning to Utah for an additional two weeks after initially leaving for California I suddenly found myself thinking to myself something along the lines of "I could have sworn I had more friends than this. Where is everybody?" It was a definitive "find out who your true friends are" moment. But saying goodbye to those close friends of mine was difficult -- even for a rock-solid, emotionally sound young man such as myself. Hahaha. As if. I said goodbye to my friend Travis and his family, and I broke down right in front of them. Luckily, shortly following that moment I regained my composure and felt I would be alright... until I arrived at home, upon which I broke down once more. I know, I know; what a baby, right? Meh. Oh well. Anyways, I digress.

We are all settled in here in Lodi finally -- I've even posted several pictures of the new house. I have never been more torn in my entire life when it comes to my opinion of the move. On one hand, it's incredibly and deplorably depressing. I grew up in Salt Lake City. My friends are there. My memories are there. I worked for my dad at Rock Creek Pizza for seven years. It was my first job, and I recently left. Now I have no social life. No car. Unpaid bills. And to add icing to the already ravaged cake: I'm unemployed. I'm not used to being unemployed. It's a weird, and frightening feeling. Why would anybody choose to dwell in such a state?? I'm going out tomorrow and applying at everything with a "Now Hiring" sign I can possibly find. Now that I've done my rant on the horrors of leaving home, I'll flip-flop over to the other hand: the upsides. I adore the weather here. Sure I miss the snow, but I don't miss waking up every morning and freezing my face off with a shovel clearing the driveway so I can leave. I like my new house. I've never lived in a house this nice, and I'm growing quite fond of it. Also, I'm excited by the whole "fresh start" possibility. A chance to reshape my life and be who I want to be. I've coerced myself into a mindset that says "Well you're moving 700 miles away and starting a new life, so you might as well change whatever you want to change now." Consequently, I've started working out, I dyed my hair black (though it's faded to a dark brown now, on its way back to a light-ish brown like it normally is), I sold a lot of my old things, and I've even gotten a new wardrobe. I've already met some people too.. :) (I know what you're thinking. "*Gasp* Jordan, you NEVER use smiley faces or other text-lingo in your blog posts!" But when you gotta smile, you gotta smile, so bear with me). I've also put together a basic list of my immediate/short term goals for the new life here. First: find a job. That is KEY to everything. Secondly: get a car. That is also hugely important, especially since I'd very much like to be able to make some trips down south a ways.. Thirdly: make some friends. Haha. Lame goal I know, but hey, a guy has to do SOMETHING or he's going to go out of his mind in boredom. Fourthly: get back to school. I've been putting thought into where I want to go to school, and I think at first I'm just going to go to Delta here in Lodi (community college) to get my generals done and save some money. Eventually, I'd like to go maybe to Sacramento state or UCLA. Why I want to go to either one of those I don't even honestly know. They're both prestigious schools with dorms and I want the full college experienece; not just community college. *Sigh*. I suppose we'll see what happens.

My brother Brandon is now on his way to Afghanistan to serve in the Army. My heart goes out to he and his wife Melissa for their 14 month separation from each other. You've got to hand it to them: that's love right there. I don't think I would be able to go that long without my wife, so I have great respect and admiration for them. I pray for his safety and for hers during this time. Brandon, if you happen somehow to read this: know that many people here are thinking of you and praying for you, and that I love you. Take care of yourself, and come back to us in one piece okay?

I have often thought of joining a branch of the military for financial and educational reasons (basically: I'm poor.). Besides, I'd be a total stud after boot camp. Hahaha. But honestly I could not go to war. If a thief breaks into my home and attempted to bring harm to me or my family, I'd shoot him down without hesitation. I'd take a life. If I were in a kill-or-be-killed situation like that, I would act. But the concept of literally killing a man sickens me, and the knowledge that that man and many others would very much like to kill me terrifies me. I could never put myself in a situation or place where I would end up in a war zone. I lack the resolve to go to war. I lack the courage. Call it cowardice, call it simple self-preservation, call it sensitivity; the simple fact is that I will not join the military for fear of war. And war is one of the very few things in life these days aside from liberals and economic instability that is NOT in short supply. I have often been known for my stereotypical outlook against the military that it is made up of dropouts who merely had no other place to turn. But my brother changes my opinion. He is one of a great many who are out there doing a service for their country, and to all of you men: I salute you. You are all heroes, regardless of the fools in office who may misuse you or abuse you. Your bravery and strength is never forgotten.

I wrote this post while listening to "Heart of Courage" by Two Steps From Hell; quite possibly the perfect song to listen to while writing about military action and/or war. Don't let the band's name fool you: they are a group dedicated to producing movie trailer music. All of their songs are instrumental. and many of them are absolutely amazing pieces of music.

On that note, I'll put a stop to this post. Tomorrow, I begin the search for a job and a jumpstart to my new life. Wish me luck.

J R Williams

Back From The Dead

I haven't put up a post in awhile, so I suppose I better update the digital world of my misgivings. The move has officially been made from Utah to California. I like my new house very much; it's a very nice place. It's open and well-lit and close to literally everything in town. Currently I am back in Utah with my dad to "finish the job" per se. We flew out to conduct one last truckload of "stuff" back to California. I'm dreadfully excited, and by dreadfully excited I mean I'm not excited in the slightest bit. Hopefully the drive goes smoothly, though hope is merely one's way of mentally eluding either the inevitable or the undesirable. I know, I sound like a pessimist; however I prefer to see myself as a realist opportunist. This essentially means I maintain a borderline pessimistic-realist world view, but I like to think optimistically in relation to the outcomes and possibilities pertaining to such views. I don't expect that to fully make sense, but then I don't always fully understand myself anyways. Right now I am sitting secretly filming my dad playing Medal of Honor on his laptop, because he is absolutely hilarious to watch right now.

Alright, for the moment I'm sure many have been waiting for eagerly: my thoughts of the Great Move. Emotionally, I am simply exhausted. Between pre-existing drama with friends, a tragic and unhappy (to me anyways) breakup, the abrupt ending of any and all face-to-face social life activity outside of family members, and the loss of a job i've known and loved for over six years, coupled with anything and everything else that I encounter, I'm drained. And I've been steadily sick since a few days before the move. Such is life, I suppose. I'm not complaining, as much as it sounds like it. I'm really okay with the move. I like the house and the neighborhood and I hope to get a nice fresh start out of this whole thing. I'm just drained emotionally. Irritable. But like all things it'll pass, and hopefully sooner rather than later. I'm choosing to be optimistic about it; I just thought I'd share my mind with the page. I might end up catching some flack from you family out there for being "upset" or whatever I may seem to be, but I'm really okay, so please don't worry.

I've rekindled my waning taste in instrumental music, and am even getting into a couple alternative songs (I'll call them alternative because I have a jaded opinion against "indie" music even though essentially that's what it is. indie/folk/whatever.) I wouldn't normally be known for. I decided there isn't a type of music I DON'T like. I listen to Eminem, Dr. Dre, and a handful of other rappers. I listen to the Beach Boys and Bon Jovi. I listen to Thousand Foot Krutch and FM Static. I listen to Boston, Journey, Toto, Foreigner, and Petra. I listen to Asking Alexandria and Nightwish. I listen to Bullet for my Valentine and A Day To Remember and Escape The Fate. I listen to everything. Don't hate my music, because odds are if I heard yours I would like yours too. That being said, your agreement/disagreement with my musical taste really isn't my concern. The music is. If you like the same music, great. If not, oh well.

J R W

A Letter To Dad

Dear Dad,

It's been awhile --a longer while than I care to admit, really -- since I've come to you like this. We have some things we need to talk about, I think. I know that, in the past, I've had my ups and my downs. I know you have high expectations for me. And to be honest a lot of the time I feel pretty bitter and/or downtrodden when I don't measure up. It sometimes makes me feel like I don't measure up at all, to anything of value. But I know that isn't your intention. Your high expectations are out of your love for me and your hope to see me succeed. I know that sometimes I may not like the way you go about things. I may not understand why you do the things you do; especially when you incorporate "tough love." Often I wonder why and grumble to myself about how unfair it all is. There have been times where my life has been at some low places, and I've come to you to talk about them. You always listen to me; always. You always make me feel better; always. You always help me through the next day, and the next day, and the next day; always. I want you to know that even though I cry and whine and argue with you about everything we disagree on, I understand that you have my best intentions at heart. You have so much more experience than I do, and you want only the absolute best for me. You want me to live up to my potential and do great things in the world. The sad truth is, up to this point, I have not done so. I've been lethargic. I've procrastinated. I've "rolled with the wrong crowd" before. I've made mistakes like everyone else. Mistakes that many of which could have been easily avoided if I'd just listened to you and taken your advice to heart rather than brushing you aside as if I knew better. I've disappointed you. I've brought many a tear to your eye. I've given you a restless night. I've not lived up to potential. These things I have done in the past. We even grew further apart to the point where we hardly ever talked, and I never spoke your name. I know how much that saddened you. Recently, we've spoken more than we have in a long time. Recently, I've faced some difficult times and I've found that the only person I can turn to for that neverending strength and comfort and compassion and genuine love that I need: is you. You are the light in the darkness of my life. You are the light in the darkness of the whole world. I know that I've made mistakes, and that I've disappointed you in the past. But right now, I'm here to tell you that I'm making a change. I'm making decisions. I'm making effort. I'm not just sitting by anymore. I want to talk to you again. I want to tell people about you and I want everybody in the whole wide world to know: that you are my dad; that you are my God.

Sincerely, and forever your son,

Jordan



J R Williams

A Salute of Remembrance, A Sigh of Disappointment

When I was but a wee lad, I went to school like anybody else. Every day after school, my Grandma would be parked outside waiting to pick me up. From there, we had our timing down to a dime. We would go straight from there to McDonalds, where she would buy me a chicken nugget Happy Meal, and from there we would sally forth to her house just in time to catch the beginning of Winnie the Pooh on Disney Channel. This ritual was repeated every day, and I loved it. I miss the "old days." The times when Disney Channel's claim to fame was Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck and Goofy. The times when Disney Channel won its popularity through ingenuity and REAL kids shows, rather than dramatic teenage soap operas and innuendo-filled shows borderline inappropriate for little children. The times when Disney stars didn't all become sluts soon after becoming famous (I know, I'm stereotyping. But hey, it is what it is). I miss the days when the shows on tv were just plain better, and actually spurred people's minds to think while entertaining them rather than filling them with mindless drivel and dumbing down the next generation. I miss shows like Bill Nye the Science Guy, and Zoom, and Between The Lions, and Reading Rainbow, and Boy Meets World, and I even watched Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. I miss not having to worry about whether what I found on PBS or Disney Channel in the afternoons would be appropriate or not; stupid or not. Have you ever seen what children's shows are like now? They're absolute stupidity. There is not one bit of substance to them at all. They're mindless cartoons to entertain and retardate the brain (I don't even know if "retardate" is a word, but I'm going to use it anyways). They are either completely idiotic or they're based on the premise of "child is somewhat of a genius and always cops an attitude to his/her moronic and spastic parents." And people wonder why the next generation has gone downhill. I was raised to read. Dr. Seuss was a genius. I would just sit in my spare time and read and read and read and read and read. I would go outside to the park and play in the sun. I would laugh with my parents and find no reason to fear or mistrust them. That is how a childhood should be. I like to think I was raised pretty damn well (pardon my French, but it's necessary for my desired emphasis). I'm politically interested, I'm literate, I'm intelligent, I'm creative, and I inherited my father's sarcastic sense of humor (which a lot of people don't like, but honestly, that's their loss. I think it's awesome). I look down at the new generation of junior high kids or even at my own peers finishing high school and entering college and I'm literally disgusted, shaking my head in disappointment as I type away at my laptop. Generations are remembered for the highlights of their existence, are they not? The 70's were the hippie years. The 80's (in my interpretation) were governed by classic rock and "gangsta rap." The 90's were the years of progress. What are people going to remember us for, being the first decade of the second millenium? We are going to be remembered as the people who couldn't find our belts and thought we were cool because people could see our underwear. The people who took an already-declining economy and shot it in the back with whatever we could find. The liberal generation. The illiterate generation. The generation of "change." Everybody wants change, but nobody ever stops to think about whether the change they're making is a good one. I look at my peers and probably more than half of them don't read. More than half of them can't understand anything higher than a 7th grade reading level. I hear things like "reading is only for nerds," "I hate reading," "I only read when I have to," "reading is for losers," and "why would you want to read? It's a waste of time," and it makes me sad. Sad that I'm a part of the generation that is willingly allowing itself to be recognized as the illiterates. The idiots. The destroyers of progress. And what's worse is that when confronted with that fact, at least in my experience, those individuals simply laugh it off as if it's all a big joke or it won't ever matter. Well in the next generation, when we are the ones who have to tie our shoes and pull our pants up and fill positions in the government and other important occupations, there's going to be a massive and unpleasant wake-up call for a lot of people, and I dread what's going to happen. I could go on and on about the decline of the nation, boiling down to the thought that the more we remove God from America the worse off as a nation we get. Think about it for a minute, if you will: nobody wants to allow prayer in schools anymore. They want to take "under God" out of the pledge of allegiance. We are pulling backing away from our longtime support of Israel, and in the Bible God tells the Israelites that "whosoever blesses you shall be blessed, and whosoever curses you shall be cursed (I think those are the exact words but I'm not positive. You get the idea)" We've even gone so far as to move the phrase "In God We Trust" from the face of the quarter to the border around it, so it can barely be seen. Consequently, we as a nation have been on an inexorably stagnant downward spiral of economic and moral collapse. I don't see coincidence; I see providence. Obviously there are also many other reasons for America's dire position, but you don't need me to tell you that.

To be short, I find myself deeply disappointed in my generation. I wish I could be living my years during the 80's and 90's, when everything was so much simpler and so much better. I miss the days of innocence and conscience that are now so far gone. I miss the good, clean, magical, classic Disney movies that have been now succeeded by such inferior replacements. I miss everything that is now gone. I hate having to wake up and hear constantly about how bad everything in the world is. And I know it's foolish to want to think everything is okay in the world, but that's how I feel. As cliche as it is; I just want peace. So to the past times, I salute you. I shall never, ever forget you. And to my generation, I'm disappointed in you. In us. In all of it.

J R Williams

Big 48

Today I reach 48 blog posts. I truly never thought I would even make it this far; generally things like this that I start dry up/lose my interest fairly quickly, and yet I'm rather fond of this blog. I find it to be an effective tool for the venting of frustrations or the expression of political opinions. It's also been rather instrumental in starting a lot of debates and/or other random arguments that I quite enjoy stirring up every now and then, to tell the truth. Something about a good argument (that I can actually hold my own in) is just engaging and entertaining and gets the creative energy flowing. It also comes accompanied by the utter feeling of complete success whenever I'm able to hopelessly troll somebody's feeble comeback, per se.

I digress. Actually... no, I don't, seeing as there was never really any original point to digress from. On this completely random note, I've decided to share my love of naming inanimate objects. Well, I suppose it's not so much a love as a fondness. For example: my old car was named Pancho Villa, after the famous Mexican outlaw, because I drove it illegally/unregistered for several months and it was a broken down POS of a car. My laptop I have named Megatron in light of some friends of mine seeing it and saying it looks like a Decepticon due to its lit keyboard and large size. It's an Asus gaming laptop, and it's quite large. It's also quite beautiful. My shotgun I'm honestly torn between names for. I may call it Drobovik (drowe-bow-vick), which is Russian for "shotgun." But I may also call it Ich Glockma, which is German for "the goat." I don't know why, but I find it hilarious. My phone is named the Professor, because it knows everything. Yeah. I name things. It's odd, but entertaining and makes for some interesting conversations at times.

Aside from that, I really have nothing to say today. When I have a lot on my mind, or a lot of stress or emotion, or I'm as bored as a blind person during a silent film, I blog. And thus, here I am.

Oh, one more thing to briefly touch upon before I leave all my faithful readers today (are there even any? Meh, I don't care much if there are or aren't. But if there are, great! I love you guys!). Three days left until we leave for California for the week to visit family there. While I'm down there I'm also going down to visit my girlfriend, whom I don't get to see nearly as often as I should be able to. I'd say it's unfair, but that would only be an admission of self-pity in an otherwise unpitiable situation. We chose this, so we can live with it. But anyways, yeah, we're leaving in a few days. Here's hoping that everything goes well..

J R Williams