I don't know what it was about the other night, but sometimes a Dylan song just feels right.

'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Granted, I grew up around the military and know plenty of conservative people, but when one considers my background, even with the significant degree of military influence, I have spent more time around young students and idealists (differentiate at your own leisure) than I have around well dressed, scared white men intimately involved in corporate America.

Already I have heard a discussion as to how drilling in Florida and the ANWAR will give us more oil than we could ever use and a husband and wife fretting over whether or not they will get the same room at their favorite five star.

There are several others in my situation here, but I don't know if they are enjoying the same people-watching experience I am.  Indeed, it took me some time, too, to calm down after finding out about the free brownies and beer.  The buffet offered plenty of wonderment as well, as my peers and I are generally not accustomed to a variety selection of free humuses (humi?) or caviar atop our deviled eggs.  Even so, once I stopped and looked around, I couldn't wait to judge everyone around me based on the incredible indulgences that make up the American Dream.

My one consolation is that there are Brits participating in the hulabaloo as well.  It makes me feel good that a corporate aristocracy (and the ignorance regarding the general populus it sometimes yields) is not limited to our great country.  I'll remember this moment next time I am scoffed at by a European.

All the same, one day I may earn my way into this elite airport culture by my own merits instead of ticketing constraints.  I may very well become just as oblivious to the long term consequences of my hedonistic ethics.  Until then, however, I will enjoy my free beer and try not to be blinded by the gleam off of all the lapel pins. 

This past weekend, I met a girl who was staying at our same hotel in Austin, and she had been locked out of her room by her boyfriend.  As I mentioned it was not particularly chivalrous to lock one’s girlfriend out of a hotel room at 2 AM on a cold night in October, she did what she could to stand up for the boyfriend because “he does these things from time to time, but…” a statement followed by her professing her love for the guy.  While her loyalty was admirable, I still found it a little sad and told her so. 

We talked for a while about how she could see herself marrying this guy (I don’t know how exactly I inspire people to bear their souls to me, but in her defense it was late and everyone had had a little to drink) and that he was perfect when he wasn’t drinking, at least most of the time.  And there it was—I had found yet another example of someone clinging to the archetypal grandeur of marriage.

What is it about marriage that we desire so badly?  I can’t deny that I, too, fall victim to this, but I don’t understand it.  I should mention right now that this is not a cynical entry aimed at bashing the sacrament of marriage, but perhaps a little scrutiny is in order. 

The irony of the before mentioned situation with the girl Austin was that her parents, who had been married close to 30 years now, just recently filed for a divorce.  How do we as a society continue to cherish something that we have also made so fragile?  I don’t think we can blame movies for over-romanticizing something as wonderful and beautiful as two people committing eternal love and devotion to one another, but maybe we missed the part about how that love and devotion will be tested eventually (in the words of my very insightful Aunt Vicki, “forever is a long time, especially when you are talking about marriage”) and it’s our commitments that will force us to keep that love and devotion strong enough to pass.  In short, giving up and calling it off should never even be an available option.

But I cannot in good conscience chalk up the failure of marriages to laziness alone, and this brings me back to the archetype.  Marriage IS a beautiful thing, and I think that may also be the problem.  Love is an amazing (or many splendored) thing, and through it we can know passion, insanity, beauty, and sickness simultaneously, and marriage is, perhaps, one of the highest expressions of love.  Marriage makes love more tangible.  It allows us a way to show that we know personally that which is most coveted in this world.  Additionally, it provides security, support, synergy, and so on.  Who, then, would not want to have that? 

After nearly a decade of exposure, though, it amazes me that I do not tire of it—a song with which society has been no less than inundated, that most every frat boy can sing by heart (a characteristic many would claim is an indication that the song is played out), that far too many kids have destroyed on karaoke night (yet another indication, as no one sings good songs for karaoke…just “classics”).  So many qualities of this one song should put on the same level as MC Hammer or “the Final Countdown” by Europe—songs that people know yet laugh off as comical icons from another era.

Despite it all, there is something special and unnamed about Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”  When I hear those opening notes played by a solo piano something happens inside me, and I transform into a fist pumping, falsetto singing, air guitaring mad man.  Nothing can keep me from making a fool out of myself until the final chord is played.

This is of little consequence, however, as I am very seldom the only lunatic in the room.  Seriously, put the song to the test and I am sure you will find that so many of us want to sing the story of the “city boy born and raised in south Detroit.”  Simply go into a room, bar, or party and play DSB and wait.  If you can control your impulses long enough to look around the room, you will see it all happen.  Fists will reach skyward.  Eyes will be closed tightly as the singers strain to hit the high notes.  Relish in the unity brought on by the song, as my fellow crazy people are everywhere and of all ages and backgrounds.

I have watched as friendships blossomed between strangers singing together.  I have seen a carload of silent introverts traveling down the interstate burst into song with no provocation.  I have heard a DJ in Austin enjoy tumultuous applause for his remix of Journey’s anthem of love and perseverance, which, I must add, was AWESOME!

It doesn't always make sense ("streetlights, people, OH!" is by no means a complete thought, but rather two nouns and an interjection) and very few of us can actually sing the high notes of the chorus, but I must admit that Journey created something special when they wrote "Don't Stop Believin'."  While it is not necessarily understood, there is something hauntingly beautiful about this simple pop/rock song, and that, I feel is the secret to its staying power.

And it's not that I feel old.  In fact, with all the freedom I have now and just myself to worry about, I feel somewhat younger than I did just a couple years ago.  It's just that my priorities have changed.

I don't think I need to be a rockstar.  I doubt I could handle it.  Even though it sounds stupid, I just want to hang out with rockstars.  I have no need to be a permanent member of someone's entourage.  What I want is to be the guy that the band calls when they are in town touring and just want to hang out with someone friendly. 

I realized that a lot of my favorite bands hold such a special place in my heart because they are known for being personable, grounded, and fun people when they are off stage.  In other words, they are people, too.  Doesn't that mean that I have just as much right as anyone to be their friend?

So here's the pitch.  I'm not a roadie or a groupie or a documentary film maker or any of the other classics that follow bands around.  I just want to sit and have a beer between shows and talk about cool stuff.  If you know any rockstars that would be interested, give them my info.  And if you are in the VH1 category now and just want to send an "Amen" my way, that's cool, too.

I used to love Jason Lee.  He was great in all of those Kevin Smith movies, and was even funny when he succumbed to the temptations of doing chick-flick-type romantic comedies.  Even if he weren't funny in those movies, though, at least he would not be wading in such dangerous waters.

If you haven't heard, Jason Lee is the voice of Underdog in an upcoming Disney movie, and I have never been more livid after a movie preview.  Quite honestly, a five minute preview of a skinhead killing kittens with a pair of steel-toed boots and throwing the tiny feline corpses into the playpen of a daycare center for underpriveleged toddlers would be less offensive to me than this movie preview.  I simply cannot understand the point of making a movie based on a TV show if the only thing that is based on the TV show is the name of three characters.

Underdog gets his powers from a pill he keeps in his ring not from a science experiment gone awry.  His secret identity is a shoe shine boy (incidentally named Shoeshine Boy) not a housepet.  There are so many other discontinuities involving not only Underdog, but Polly Purebread and Riff Raff as well that I choose not to discuss.  It's enough to know that Hollywood is such a whore for a movie title that awakens nostalgia in the people inundated with its entertainment propaganda that it doesn't even feel shame at turning a B rated cartoon show I grew up loving into a movie with a huge budget and a bad plot concept.

It doesn't stop at Underdog, though, as the rumor is that he is starring as Dave in an upcoming Chipmunks movie.  I know nothing about this movie.  It may be incredible, but, in light of recent events, I have every reason to be skeptical.  I'm not even that tied to the Chipmunks (unlike Underdog) but who didn't think that "the Witchdoctor" was the coolest song at least for a while when they were really young.  And everyone sings along with Alvin when he delivers the line about wanting a hulahoop for Christmas.

In the end, the wheels are already turning.  There is no stopping this train.  The movies are coming out and there is nothing we can do about it.  All I ask for is a little shame on Jason Lee's part and maybe a formal apology.  It's something to at least consider.

I realize that I planned two weeks to play around in Europe, but even though I am coming home early (to save some money and hopefully see some concerts this weekend), this trip was everything that I expected--it was unpredictable.

I didn't know where I was going to sleep when I got to Germany (on the trains after the bars closed).  I didn't know how I would find my friend Bryan in Rome (we met randomly around midnight in a hostel).  I didn't have a guidebook.  I only spoke German and English (though I found in Italy one can get by simply saying "prego" a lot).  I didn't know where I was going but I hoped a train would take me there.  From a wiser man's perspective, much of the planning (or rather lack thereof) I did for this trip was rather stupid.

But I'm 23!

I wonder how much longer I am allowed to be REALLY stupid.  The kind of stupid that people talk about at Christmas ten years from now.  The kind of stupid you have to hide from your kids when they are growing up so that they never realize you were reckless as well.  I wonder how much longer I can be that stupid and still have people brush it off as humorous because "Hey, you're still young."

Despite the stupidity, I think I may have accidently learned something.  I think I may have learned about independence and self assuredness and not fearing but simply respecting the unknown or different.  I do not plan to return home a changed man, but if I do, I suppose worse things could happen.

Even with the lessons in independence, however, there was much more to this trip.  I always had someone (not something, mind you) to look forward to.  You cannot imagine how much was added to this trip by meeting new people in Munich, finding Bryan in Rome, getting to know Emma in Florence, and spending time with the Sipp family in the Alsace (wine country in eastern France...GORGEOUS!).  People are not meant to be alone.  While traveling solo added to the adventure significantly, the stories that make me smile without even telling them are the ones involving my friends.

I think it will be very nice to share a trip like this with someone very special later one, but I do not want to discount how much this trip meant to me.  The independent aspect added the the uncertainty and adventure.  Even so, the interdependent aspect turned all the pictures in my head from black and white to kodachrome.

All that in a week, and I didn't even pay for air fare!  Das ist ja sehr preiswert.

It has been wonderful, and I look forward to sharing pictures with anyone who is willing to look.

I think the best part is knowing that something will eventually come of all this, whether I become a navigator or no.

I think the worst part is not so much the waiting, but staying positive while I am waiting.  This is mostly for the people around me, because the fact of the matter is that I am alright and I don't need people worrying about me.  Even so, it's mentally exhausting sitting around feigning a good attitude while someone in a headquarters somewhere takes his sweet time to make an easy decision.

Note to all personnel/human resource professionals - No one likes being treated like a number or a statistic or any other piece of data causing a human being not to be represented as a human being.  Some of you know this full well already, so thanks and keep up the good work.

Numbers don't get demotivated or frustrated, and while your job is VERY important, it is only important because there are people that need your service.  Please help us.

Who knows what will happen to me next?  I hope it's incredible.  I will be sure to let everyone know as soon as I do, but not before then.  Sorry.

While I kinda felt this coming for a while now, it still feels weird to sign on the line admitting my failure to the world.  Not that this doesn't make life exciting.  I get to go down a new road and try something different.  Maybe I'll be really good at this different thing, too.  Who knows?

Right now, I am simply soaking in life and enjoying the company of the incredible people I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by.  To the ones who offered their thoughts and assured me that everything would work out, I thank you.  Y'all made this much easier. 

Everything is working out...just not as I expected.

This past year has been one big lesson in the fact that you can never really count on anything.  That is not an attempt to sound cynical at all, but change happens and there isn't much any of us can do about it.  Sometimes all of the changes and upsets make life rather, if not extremely, frustrating.  When life gets hard, we need to push through to achieve the things that we want in life.  At times, though, we need to understand when to cut our losses and throw in the towel.

Discerning between which times are which is very difficult.  A lot of times, we get caught up in the emotions we are experiencing and stick with a sinking ship to spite it or, even worse, give up on something we really want because it's the easier option.

If you know what I am talking about so far, then you understand my predicament.

I may be leaving pilot training.  I have the option to fight and stay, but the fact of the matter is I am not very good at military flying and I would be committing to something for next decade leaving me in a constant struggle to stay afloat.  This is only worth it if flying makes me happy.

How does anyone ever figure this stuff out?

I am lucky that I have so many options.  I am really interested in any advice that anyone who reads this is willing to offer, because this is a big decision.  I know what I feel in my gut as the right thing to do, but I don't want to be impulsive.  What do y'all think?  Let me know.  Seriously.

I just hope you kinda like it.  Here goes.

C'est la vie

The ocean

Never asked any of us to drown,

But when it surrounds us

We really have no choice.

Maybe

The ocean

Could try

A little harder

To help.

"Life decisions" are weird.  We always have to be extra careful with these as they, by definition, affect the rest of our lives, and no one wants to be locked into something because of a decision he or she made 10 years ago (e.g. pilot training, the Air Force in general, ANY career!).  But back in high school, we just flipped a coin and now she has even MORE options as to where she goes next.

That made me wonder how much our big decisions REALLY affect us.  It seems to me that if we really, really want to do something farther on down the road, we simply will, regardless of where we are right now.  Maybe there isn't really are "right" path, as we are all destined to go from A to B no matter what we do.*  The hardest life decisions, then, seem to be when there are several good decisions, as bad decisions are usually easier to identify than we give them credit for.  But if all we have to worry about are good options, then why worry at all?

If I could answer that question, though, I probably would not have spent so much of my recent past questioning my current situation.  The fact of the matter is, however, that my big life choices have very seldom limited my future options.  More often than not, my options increase, and the majority of them are GREAT opportunities that allow me to pursue more in my life without forcing me to give up anything I opted against.

Are there bad choices in life?  Sure, that's an easy question.  But as long as we avoid those bad choices, the paths our lives take aren't necessarily as narrow as we generally believe our decisions make them.  So do we give ourselves too much credit on the effects of our choices?  I don't know for sure, but it would not surprise me.

 * I should caveat this by saying that I am only a partial fatalist, as I believe that we affect our lives, I am just not sure to what extent.