Spring Break, Cooking, and Natural Disasters

            Rosa and I met for the third time yesterday. It’d been two weeks since we last met; we’d both been extremely busy. I’ve had a series of big tests, and Rosa has been up to her shoulders in schoolwork. But that’s what college is all about right? No. But sometimes it sure seems that way. Now to our conversations-

Our conversation sprung from both our readiness for Spring Break. Rosa asked me if I was excited. Yes! I’m so ready to get back to California and enjoy the beach, Disneyland, and my family. Only sixteen more days left! Rosa said she’s really excited for spring break herself. It turns out she’ll be heading out to California as well. She’s going to stay with her friend in Los Angeles and see the sights and visit some of our more popular attractions. I hope she gets the chance to go to Disneyland. It’s so magical. Needless to say, both of us are ready for a break from school. We talked about how last semester was so much nicer because we had three longer breaks. This semester we have nine weeks of school, spring break, then six more weeks. It’s tough for us, and I’m sure everyone to be in demanding classes with essentially no time to give your mind a break.

            Our conversation somehow transitioned into a discussion of cooking. Rosa loves to cook and is constantly trying to improve her culinary skills. She said every time her parents call, her mother gives her new recipes to try, to give her a taste from home. With her uncle as her guinea pig, she tries the recipes, making her own alterations. Apparently in her ESL classes they have parties where they all prepare food from their home and bring it in for everyone to try. She always gets a lot of compliments, i.e., Rosa must have some abilities in the kitchen. I told Rosa I wish I knew how to cook. I’m pretty good at making Kraft macaroni and cheese, microwave foods, you know, the essentials. One time I got pretty adventuresome and made Panini sandwiches. I don’t own a Panini press, so I used the ribbed side of a grill pan to make the grooves and a pot to way down the sandwich. Ingenuity at it’s finest. I’m also decent at making pancakes using the premade mix. Every mother’s day I practice my pancake making abilities.

            Our discussion of cooking came to a close, and transferred into a conversation on natural disasters. You know, the most logical conversation progression is spring break to cooking to natural disasters. I think we got on this subject because Rosa asked me about the weather in California, but I’m not certain. Anyway, I know for a fact that she asked if earthquakes were frequent in California. Her impression seemed to indicate she heard earthquakes happen every other day there. I told her they are pretty common, but don’t happen on a daily basis. Even when we do have earthquakes, it’s extremely rare that they are the San Francisco disaster caliber. I mean, people claim California is due for another big one soon, but how likely is it really? Anyway, I said it was funny when we had an earthquake a little bit ago here in Fort Worth. People were screaming and freaking out, and it was tiny. I just stayed in my bed haha. I don’t understand how people here are afraid of the earth moving a little bit, when they get those monstrous tornadoes tearing through here. That seems a lot scarier to me. Rosa agreed. Rosa’s next question made me laugh a little bit. She wondered how frequently we had tsunami warnings in California. Man, I’ve never heard of such a thing in my whole life. I mean, it’s probably possible, and it may have happened before, but sure hasn’t happened in my lifetime. Rosa said California really does have the best weather. I couldn’t agree more.    

An Evening with Switchfoot

            November 27, 2009, is the day that changed my perspective on music and its role in my life. That wonderful night, I experienced my first concert, with my best friend Jensen.

            My eyes flung open. I jumped out of bed and ran to my phone to check the time. It was seven in the morning. I couldn’t believe the concert was only fourteen hours away! Yes, that’s a long time, but I couldn’t help but be excited, similar to the feeling young children, and some adults feel early on Christmas morning. I simply couldn’t believe I was seeing Switchfoot at the House of Blues Anaheim. Switchfoot, the band I grew up with. The first cd I ever purchased was Nothing is Sound by them and haven’t looked back since. I still believe I have yet to make a better music purchase.

 The countdown began. With each passing hour I grew more and more anxious. My friend and I continued to text each other every hour; twelve hours to Switchfoot, ten hours, and so on. We couldn’t help ourselves. Eventually, the time had come, and my parents drove me over to pick Jensen up. I walked inside and grabbed one of his guitars and started playing different Switchfoot riffs. I know over twenty-five of their songs, so I played little snippets of each song we thought would be in the set list. The whole time I couldn’t stop giggling. I honestly was like one of those pre-teen girls at a Jonas Brothers or Justin Bieber concert. I didn’t care, how dumb I acted. I couldn’t help it.

            On the way up to Anaheim, Jensen and I debated if we should listen to Switchfoot in the car. We decided in the end that it might take away from our experience somehow. That didn’t keep us from continuing to debate the setlist. We knew the first twelve songs would be their new album Hello Hurricane in its entirety. That’s what originally sprung my interest in the An Evening with Switchfoot tour. There would be no opening act, just the new album plus an additional set of fan favorites. We were pretty sure Stars and Dare You To Move would be in the set somewhere.

            We arrived. The awesome exterior of the House of Blues came into view. I started running. I couldn’t believe this was reality. As every loving friend does, Jensen ran after me. It was still a few hours until the doors opened but that didn’t matter. We were here! My parents laughed and insisted on taking a picture. Normally I don’t enjoy taking a bunch of pictures, but the euphoric rush from being at the House of Blues in Downtown Disney no less, changed that. My eyes were bright, and my demeanor, well, like a kid at Disneyland his first time.

            Insider tip for the House of Blues, buy food when you go because you get to wait in different line that gets let in first. I’m so glad we were told that, because it made a huge difference. We walked into the doors to an almost empty room. We ended up about ten rows back from the stage. Incredible. First thing any guitarist does at show- scan the equipment. I saw Drew Shirley had out an Orange half stack and his boutique supro-pro. Needless to say, I was stoked. I looked to the left and got even more excited to see Jon Foreman had a Vox AC30. I yanked on my mom’s arm. “Do you see the amps?! Vox! Orange! This is going to sound amazing!” She started laughing and said, “I knew you were going to say something about that.” My mom is actually pretty knowledgeable about guitar tech. Since I have no siblings to talk about it with, I tell my mom about it. The thing that makes my mom so much cooler than most is that she not only listens, but remembers. If I tell her about pedals, brands, amps, or anything else, she actually knows what I’m talking about, and can ask rather intelligent questions about it. I have a cool mom.

            I looked over and saw Jensen gazing at Chad’s beautiful drum set. Jensen is a drummer, so it’s understandable. It took about an hour for the show to start, it was one of the longest hours of my life. Everything was moving so fast up until that point. I remember feeling anxious. I started to actually worry that Switchfoot’s show would fall short of my expectation. How could any match the bar I set? I expected perfection.

            The lights suddenly shut off, and the crowd erupted in cheers. I saw the shadows of people walking across the stage. Then, the stage lit up and Jon Foreman began to get the audience singing woahs with him, as the band began playing Needle and Haystack life. They had incredible stage presence. Not only was the light show awesome, perfectly matching the emotion and transitions with the song, the band was one. They were so in sync, they knew exactly how to play with each other and lock into each other’s musical style. With each song, I became even more immersed in the music. God was doing something through Switchfoot. It was definitely a spiritual experience. I know my adrenaline was pumping, but the feeling was so much more than that. I mean, I had nothing to compare it to at the time, so the feeling would be more sensational than others. Still, after seeing bands like U2, Phil Wickham, The Fray, Anberlin, and Sanctus Real, there is nothing like Switchfoot live. I actually saw them toward the beginning of last semester again, and my experience was equally as spiritual as the first. Anyway, back to the experience…

            I felt connected with Switchfoot. Their lyrics took on a whole new meaning; I understood them more than I ever did. It was incredible how honest they were with their fronts to songs. I still remember Jon Foreman explaining “Your Love is a Song” as his accepting that there are things in this world he will never understand. There will always be questions without answers, and answers that don’t satisfy. Still, God’s love is the song that binds us all together. It’s what gives him hope, and strength.

            After the show, I was absolutely floored. I looked at Jensen, my eyes wide open and jaw dropped. He looked the same. I turned to my parents and they had similar expressions. My dad doesn’t even like this kind of music, and he said, “Wow… that was amazing.” I think between the four of us, we said that was unbelievable at least twenty times on our way to the car. That night revealed to me how God used music for his glory. I saw a part of myself in Switchfoot, starting a fire in my heart for a career in music. I somehow knew then that music would have a big role in God’s plan for my life.

            It’s hard to believe that it’s been close to three years, and all of us continue to talk about it like it was yesterday. It’s a moment in time that will be forever engrained in our minds. In case anyone is interested, here is the set list from the show. It’s one of my favorite playlists.

1.     Needle and Haystack Life

2.     Mess of Me

3.     Your Love is a Song

4.     The Sound

5.     Enough to Let Me Go

6.     Free

7.     Hello Hurricane

8.     Always

9.     Bullet Soul

10.  Yet

11.  Sing It Out

12.  Red Eyes

13.  Faust, Midas, and Myself

14.  Stars

15.  The Shadow Proves the Sunshine

16.  Oh! Gravity.

17.  Dirty Second Hands

18.  Twenty-Four

19.  Dare You to Move

20.  Meant to Live

Encore

21.  This is Your Life

22.  Awakening

Huck Experience Questions

1. Have you read the novel –Huck Finn- before?  If so where and why?

            I have not read Huck Finn before.

2. If you have not read Huck Finn before, surely you know something about the novel and character from references and allusions in popular culture.  What do you know about either the novel and/or character?

            I actually had very limited knowledge of the character. I’ve heard of the book, and somehow knew it was in some way related to Tom Sawyer (a book I have not read either), but that’s the extent of my knowledge. I couldn’t tell you anything about Huck Finn before reading it.

4. If you were assigned to read Huck Finn in a previous class, either here or in high school, how did your class as a whole react to the novel?  Why do you think your instructor assigned the novel?  How did he or she try to “teach” the novel?

N/A

5. If you were required to read Huck Finn in a previous class, what sort of assignments were you required to complete, and what exactly did you do during the classes when

Huck Finn was being discussed.

N/A

6. Huck Finn is still one of the most controversial and most banned books in America.  Why is it so controversial? 

            I believe the controversy in Huck Finn springs from the blatantly racist culture it depicts. The “n-word’ is thrown around over 200 times, and slaves are consistently understood as lesser than people. The South in Huck Finn is simply desensitized to their own lack of morality. Even Huck who seems to understand Jim’s humanity more than most white people is still racist. Jim never enters the same level of white people in his eyes. The society of Huck Finn essentially matches my picture of the south in the 1800s, a bunch of redneck racists.

7. Is Huck Finn still relevant to you as college student today?  Should it continue to be taught in college classrooms?

            I struggle with the question, because I don’t know if Huck Finn is truly relevant in modern society. I think it definitely is an eye-opener on how far humanity has fallen. The greed, selfishness, racism, self-righteousness, and simple lack of morals is ever-present in society today. Still, I don’t know if Huck Finn is really intended for a modern audience. Society, more in how we live and the activities we do, is much different than the old-time south. There’s a lot of great things about Huck Finn that would certainly merit its teaching. I just didn’t get a whole lot out of the story other than what was on the surface, which leaves me somewhere in the middle on it being taught.

8.  The general consensus among critics is that Huck Finn is a brilliant and powerful novel, but also a flawed and problematic novel.  What do you think might be flawed and/or problematic about the novel?

            It appears to me that most critics of Huck Finn take issue with its ending, which in my opinion wasn’t spectacular, but I didn’t find it problematic. I didn’t enjoy reading about Tom Sawyer’s ridiculous plans, that continued to become more convoluted, and essentially, a waste of time. Sure enough, the situation becomes even more unsettling when we find out Jim has been free all along. Making all efforts, whether ridiculous or not, meaningless. The whole thing seems to bring us back to square one. I can’t say for certain if Huck changed or not. Still, I have to say even more upsetting to me than the ending was how heavily criticized it is. I understand criticism helps us grow, but the reality is, no matter how much you want to say the ending sucks, it won’t change it. If that’s how Twain chose to end his novel, then that’s how it ends. I know people become attached to these works, but at the end of the day, it’s Twain’s novel and he can end it how he wants to. That’s just an aside. I think what’s problematic to me about the ending is that it just falls flat. The whole book has an incredible build up to the freeing of Jim, and then it just kind of happens. All the unbelievable adventures before were more unbelievable than what would probably be Huck’s most important adventure. My stance is not so much on Twain’s ending being cowardly, it just left me a little unsatisfied. It was one of those, “Oh… so that’s how it ends” moments.

He > I.

Last summer I had the opportunity to play lead electric guitar at student leadership/worship conference for students all around the country. I still remember how excited my friends and I were as we loaded up the truck with all of our equipment; amps, guitars, pedal boards, keyboards, symbols, and some essentials- changes of clothes and pillows. I had lead worship with these guys at Saddleback Church throughout high school, and it was all coming to a close. No one addressed it, but everyone’s face displayed a sense of the nostalgia. The car ride was leisurely and lighthearted. I was the recipient of most pinches, slaps, etc. as usually. I never mind. That’s probably why I get made fun of the most. What would a car ride with our band be without such shenanigans?

The mood drastically changed once we arrived at Azusa Pacific University. We needed to hurry, because we had sound-check and rehearsal in just a little over an hour. Thus began every aspiring musician’s favorite aspect of being on the road, setting up your equipment. We were creative, stacking one amp on top of another with wheels, and then stacking two pedal boards on top of that. Extremely dangerous considering that was close to ten thousand dollars of equipment. I like to live on the edge. About thirty minutes later, all the equipment was in the room, all we had to do was wait for the current seminar to finish.

The room emptied, and we quickly began sound-checking. Sound check is perhaps one of the most stressful times for a guitarist. First, you need to find your tone (how your guitar sounds) through the amp, and test your various pedals to make sure every sound you’ll use for the songs sound good. Then, you need to tweak to make sure your guitar still sounds the same way through the PA system (It’s amazing how different a microphone can make your guitar sound). Once the sound guy said we were all good, practice began, and it was grueling. Taffy, our Worship Pastor, pushed us hard to make each of our twenty songs as perfect, and our transitions between songs as seamless as possible. Four hours later, we finished practice and got ready for the night of worship to begin.

In the midst of a crowded room, a bright light brought life to the stage ushering a deadening silence upon the audience. I looked on the crowd to discover at least five hundred people, excitedly anticipating the start of the set. The song began and I waited as the measures appeared to race by. My entrance rapidly approached, yet I was filled with an incredible calm. The music consumed me and I roared in with a searing electric guitar lead. The congregation called back, shouting the lyrics of the song “Dry Bones” as we worshiped the Lord together. I felt as though I’ve found a sense of identity as my love for creativity is expressed in musical form.

The end of the song brought upon Taffy’s introduction, I was unbelievably excited. I looked to my left and saw Spencer our percussionist, and Nick our drummer, smiling and fidgeting as well. We all couldn’t wait to begin the first chunk of the set. Before I knew it, we were into our next song, “Forever Reign.” A sea of voices shouting back to us overwhelmed me. I’d never witnessed a congregation respond in such a way. Even with a cranked up stage monitor in front of me, I struggled to hear my guitar.

God was moving in a big way. The people were all pressed up against the stage so tight it appeared they were stacked on top of each other. Some had their eyes closed, some open, several hands in the air. All appeared completely consumed by this time of worship. I had seen things like this in Hillsong and Jesus Culture videos, but never suspected myself to be leading one of these moments.

It was more clear at then than any of the other time I lead worship that this was in no way about me. It wasn’t about how great my guitar sounded, how well Nick played drums, or how well Kyle sang. It was all about bringing glory to God. I felt so humbled that God would use me in such a powerful way. A little over an hour and half later, the night came to a close. We played so hard, the power actually gave out in the building. People were shouting “we love Jesus” and dancing around. My friends and I were hugging each other, still in shock by how God worked through us that night. That was true worship.  

The River of Life

            I must be honest. As I held the giant Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in my hand, I felt a little overwhelmed. Not only did I have multiple tests rapidly approaching, but now had this seemingly daunting task of reading this novel, which quite frankly didn’t jump out at me as an interesting read. As I lay comfortably in bed, I procrastinated by working on my Tiny Tower game and quickly flipped through Facebook. I looked at the clock, and had managed to waste fifteen minutes. I placed my phone out of reach behind my head and dove into Huckleberry. No use in trying to prevent this any longer.

            As I read the first chapter, I grew a bit frustrated. I love a southern drawl as much as the next guy, but I don’t enjoy reading it. I never did like books with purposefully misspelled words. My mind began to wander. I began to question if Huck was somehow connected to Tom Sawyer. It only took a few paragraphs for that connection to be confirmed. I really don’t understand how I knew. The only knowledge I have of Tom Sawyer is Tom Sawyer’s island at Disneyland. I enjoyed exploring the caves, forts, and twisted pathways when I was younger. I guess the context of Tom Sawyer wasn’t necessary to enjoy the attraction. The island is still up and running at Disneyland, but has recently been renamed Pirate Island after the immense success of the Pirate’s of the Caribbean movies. I snapped back to reality, I needed to continue reading.

With each page, the southern drawl became easier and easier to read through. One thing is for sure- I was submerged in a world of southern culture. Huck, Jim, and Tom all spoke and acted according to my expectation for what I’d find in Texas. The more I think about it, the happier I am that Texas doesn’t match my stereotypes, still, there is a part of me that is disappointed. I was really looking forward to picking up a cool accent. The more I read of Huck’s adventures, the more I began to enjoy the story. I don’t know how accurate a reflection on living in the south Huck is, but I can say the world he grew up in was far different than my own. I enjoyed stopping in my reading to spend sometime trying to comprehend how different the world of Huck is from mine. It’s amazing how different regions of one countries appear like separate countries from their drastic differences.

First off, I can’t imagine growing up with slavery. All I know of slavery is what I read in textbooks. I’d never think to call a black person by the “n word” and expect them to be okay with it. It’s still a little shocking to me every time Huck refers to Jim with it. I know that slavery is thankfully gone in the U.S., but I wonder if there are remnants of it manifested through racism still present in the south more than other places. Last semester I had an interesting experience with an African American bus driver. While riding the bus, the driver was speaking to another African American passenger about a white passenger he drove the day before. Apparently the passenger called the driver a nigger and made several racist comments about how slavery should still be in action and that he couldn’t believe he had to ride the bus with other black people. I felt awkward being the only white person on the bus that day; I was afraid they would associate the man’s actions with me. Still, I was more taken aback that that kind of thing still occurred. I guess I grew up even more sheltered than I originally believed. I wonder if there really is a difference in upbringing in the south, if there is some kind of racial tension still present among society here? Aside from that, Huck’s actions made me question my own. Perhaps I would act like Huck if I grew up in southern culture. Maybe what seems so wrong to me wouldn’t if that’s all I knew.

The second instance that caught me off guard was Buck’s explanation of his family feud. The fact that both families can’t remember why the feud was started, yet decide to continue to murder each other is crazy. I laughed at the concept of waking up with the mindset, I’m going to go out and kill someone in that family because I know our families got into a dispute that I can’t remember anything about. It seems highly improbable to me, yet I know things like this still occur today. But once again, I realized that perhaps my inability to relate is because of my upbringing. I suppose that if I grew up with Buck, the family feud would seem rational to me, and I’d be a part of it without question.

What amazes me is that stories of my childhood would probably seem strange or different to someone who grew up in the south, or maybe even the east coast. Perhaps coming-of-age in the south looks different than the west coast. Until reading Huck Finn, I had never considered how influential your surroundings are on your personal coming-of-age story. Rafting down a river with a runaway slave seems so foreign to me only because it’s an impossibility in Mission Viejo, California. Still, it doesn’t make the experience less influential. By floating down the river, Huck is exposed to different perspectives and different people that ultimately force him to begin making decisions for himself. Decisions as simple as what am I going to eat today, to larger ones concerning morality in regards to lying about one’s identity and stealing. As much as Huck Finn may seem to be the farthest thing away from me, I can’t help but admire him. While I don’t always agree with his judgments, I applaud the maturity it takes to make those decisions. There’s no way I’d be capable of fending for myself the way Huck did when I was 14.

As I continue my journey in Huck Finn, I must admit I am enjoying it more and more. It’s hard not to have fun imagining the crazy situations Huck lands on, and the goofy characters such as the “Duke” and “Dauphin” he encounters on the way. Even more, I enjoy the way Mark Twain exposes me to a culture completely different than I know. Even though our experiences are unalike, Huck and I are both at a place where we must make decisions for ourselves in situations we have never faced. Heck, we are all floating down a river... the river of life that is.