Life merits this

I'm in constant awe of life. The way you guide yourself into something and it turns out to exceed all expectations. The way amazing people come into your life as easily and quickly as they fall out again. They way we're all so lost, and how every single person comes up with a unique way of dealing with this fact of nature. It's honestly beautiful, if I've ever seen beauty.

I'm living in St. Paul right now, working with an organization that canvasses for the Sierra Club, Human Rights Campaign, US Pirg, raising funds and so on. It's my job to go talk to people I've never met. I'm supposed to ask them for money, but I'm starting to consider that secondary to making a unique connection with each one, seeing a small but powerful glimpse of how so many people live their lives. Canvassing is hard work, and if anything, it's this connection that gets me out of bed driving to dinkytown every morning.

Then there's the people in the office. Some of the most honest, thoughtful, real people I've ever had the pleasure to work with. I think you have to be to do this kind of work. Last night I sat on a porch, playing guitar while my man James sang off the top of his mind. Poetry, definitely, and coming from a much deeper place than what most are willing to reveal. Seeing this in people gives me a lot of hope for humanity; something that's lost when you isolate yourself too much.

It's a pretty amazing thing we've been given. Don't ever take it for granted.

Salaam.

I am trying to break your heart

The weekend after I came back to Santa Fe, I went skiing. My brother, some of his good friends and I hiked up 2,500 vertical feet to the top of a peak and skiied a backcountry chute. Twice. It was thick, choppy snow from some previous slides, and down by the bottom of the face it was good and slushy. We were skiing on May 15th. I don't give a shit if its slushy.

Then it heated up to 95, flood warnings went up all across northern New Mexico, kayakers hit the little Santa Fe River, and lakes got closed because of all the debris floating down rivers. I sat out in the sun and burned my pasty white skin to a crisp. I'm peeling like a mofo now. I tried to write some songs, but they're all a little contrived, so I just decided to sit on my ass and read for a while.

I started working at Santa Fe Institute, home to Nobel Physicists and a bunch of brilliant people doing ridiculous research in absurd topics that may or may not have any bearing on reality. Nonetheless, they're brilliant. I haul their computers around and pretend to understand what they're talking about when they go off about spin glasses and robustness.

I haven't seen a single person from my highschool since I've been back in Santa Fe, besides those that were my friends long before prep. I've been spending the majority of my time with Mario, one of my best friends here for years, Lucy, another one, and recently, Jacob, who I met when I was 11 and haven't seen at all in the last 2 years. We go to parties, eat out, hang out at african music camps and drink beer and get lectured about drinking beer in public. Life is alright. Better and better, the more music, parties and general Santa Fe awesomeness comes around.

I read a book of short stories by Barry Lopez last week. It was pretty mind opening, just bringing to light how differently people live, how many ways there are to live your life, and how easily it can all get sucked back into a system that likes things to be predictable and routine. The next day I started a novel about Salah al-Din, or Saladin, the sultan that recaptured Jeruselem after the first crusade. I had seen Kingdom of Heaven, and really liked it, was really drawn in by the idea of fighting for faith, my mom suggested that I read the book of saladin. I'm halfway into and really liking it, and its definitely influencing the way I see leadership, religion, life... I dunno.

I guess I'm coming to some new conclusions about the world, and my life, and what it's all about, and I'm liking it. I've come to realize that almost everything my country does is out of ignorance of its privilege or misguided idealism that doesn't really connect with how the world works. I've also realized that most of the politics in our country are pretty much useless. Whether we have a liberal or conservative government, we're still ignorant of our privileged position and its source, and we're still guided by uninformed and misguided ideals, so why should we give a shit? The best we can do is lead our lives conscious of our positions in the world, and honest about our intentions. So I'm giving myself some big ideas to live up to. I hope I'm up to the job.

Peace, all.
I'll see if I can drop you a post sometime soon, if not I wish you all the best with everything. Shalom, salaam, paz, pace... It's kind of amazing how so many people have a word for something they've probably never seen. I'm out.

Rainy days

I know that I've been out of the posting thing for a solid month and a half, and I know a lot has happened since my Chicago trip. First of all, spring break. My good friends Dave, Gabe and I drove down to Dave's hometown of Oklahoma City, to catch some sunshine and some southwest sunsets. That and it snowed about 8 inches the first night of break. We knew we had to get the fuck out of Minnesota for sanity's sake. While we were down there we drank a lot, smoked a lot, partied a lot, slept a lot, and basically managed to waste a week pretty effectively. We got back up here, not wanting to work at all.

I've kind of realized that work is pretty crucial to surviving college, so I soon got back into the swing of things, actually so far back into the swing of things that everyone started asking me why they never see me. It's because I'm always working... Trying to finish strong. And plus it's good practice for next year's ridiculousness that's sure to come.

So today totally sucks. I mean, it's been a phenomenal day in terms of the people I've hung out with, things I've talked about and the lack of anything real to achieve, but it's seriously shitty. It's been raining all day without break, its kinda cold, and all I want to do is lie in bed and listen to the rain through my open window. And listen to depressing music. It always fits the mood perfectly, and thus is releaved of its depressing qualities. I've really never felt happier listening to Hopesfall and Opeth, in my life.

So, considering my posting rate recently, I think this may be the last post before the end of the school year, so with some time to reflect, I wanna make some observations. First of all, this school is absolutely incredible in some respects and so limiting in others. Yesterday was a sampler day for prospective students, which was about the first time I've met anyone new since Oklahoma. This school is way too small to stay interesting and satisfy my desire for new and bizzare experiences, while at the same time, I've learned more than I ever could have hoped for by being around the same people, studying interesting things and just livin' it, going with it. I feel like the people here, the academics here, and my own open-mindedness have challenged me beyond anything I ever expected, out of which I've grown significantly.

I'm so psyched to live in a house next semester, to take four remarkably interesting classes, to work as a preceptor for one of my favorite professors here, to keep learning shit about my life. For once, my direction is being set by more than just my own actions. We're growin' up kiddos, as scary as that sounds.

If I had to dip, I'd probably skip to Chicago

Besides stressin' over shit that don't matter, I think I'm good. I spent the weekend in Chicago, loving the place, loving the distance from Mac and getting kinda pissed at the company. Saw some friends around Northwestern, Lil' Binks and Lauren T. for Santa Fe folks that might be a little curious. Went to some frat parties, met some chill people, played some beirut, got out of a house party before I could get handed an underage ticket, drove (sober, doncha worry) at 70 on Lake Shore Dr., got lost in that concrete jungle, felt a sense of awe and fleeting existence. I came back with the feeling that Minneapolis is the little city of the midwest, that Mac is way small, and that I get really excited about chilling at the bottom of a canyon of skyscrapers. I wanna go back, spend some real time there and get to know the place a little better. Maybe it's that anywhere but here kinda mindset, who knows, but there are tons of places and tons more people in the world, feeling stuck anywhere is pointless cause all you've gotta do is get in a car, buy a plane ticket, hop a train and go where ever the fuck you want.

So now I'm back here, realizing how temporary all this college shit is if I want it to be. Most of this heads I might not even talk to once I leave, a few people, of course, I'll hold on to forever, and I'll remember everyone... But honestly, I'm not ready to tie myself to anywhere, anything or anyone.

I kinda want to blow my inheritance and grab a plane to some crazy place and start it all over again, like every time you do this you can redefine yourself, but I think I'll save it for my rockstar rich and famous days, just to cover my ass from complete brokeness. I know they're comin', I swear I'm not delusional. Ya'll have a good week, maybe I'll leave some love another day. Peace,

Brendan

Always coming back home to you

I just read an amazing description of Santa Fe and Albuquerque, with massive respect due to Gabe Langton for his cynicism and eloquence. I read this, and it left me completely speechless, so I post it here, with all due credit, for anyone who's ever asked me what New Mexico is like. Enjoy.

Santa Fe is a cruel joke, a caucasian-culture pimple ripening to burst all over the surrounding area. Californians feed its mad stampede, bringing its upscale vanity and modern-art pretensiousness to a dizzying climax that you can feel inside the city, sickening any who are pure at heart. White women lathered with turquoise go to native dances and buy postcards to send home, retiring to their penthouse suites and fake adobe mansions still swimming in the illusion that they are somehow part of an ancient culture that they are really doing their part to finally destroy. Hippies strike it rich and come to Taos to trade designer hallucinogens and raise smug children into neurotic trust-fund babies, injecting an apathy and cynicism not seen since the mid-80's into our state. The police have locked the city up tight, and the once-rebellious children of the 60's, who have moved to Santa Fe to live in the same decadent opulence that they still half-heartedly decry, are glad of it.

But the reason it's such a blasphemy to people like us, and the reason most of these despicable people's predecessors came there in the first place is that it USED to be a frontier among frontiers! Where there are art galleries, there once were saloons. Where there are black-tie gala restaraunts, there once were whorehouses. Where fat hotel managers cruise their beemer SUVs, infamous desperados once had legendary shootouts! And this shit wasn't about cowboys and indians, it was the hard-of-heart-and-mind who were cut loose from society that peopled this land. But now it's been plasticized, formulated, and fundamentally, cancerously altered from the outside in.

So those of us that can't stand it anymore come here to dirty 'Burque, where the land is cheap, the rules are loose, and the cops can't keep up.

There is a mentality here. If you've lived here long enough you know it, you possess it, but sometimes it's kind of hard to put a finger on. I think that somehow a tiny sliver of the Old west has survived here. The sheriffs in Bernalillo will take you for a mind-shattering joyride if they catch you late at night without any witnesses, and quite possibly kill you. New York doesn't have shit on us anymore in terms of per capita murder and other gang-related crime. We just don't get coverage in the national media because we don't matter. Our city is wide, but it is nothing. A poor semi-metropolis in the poorest state in the union. A place where you can be completely clean and be friends with gangsters, dealers, murderers, playboys, schizophrenics, alcoholics, college kids, dropouts, sorority girls and crack addicts and get along with them, because here, everybody knows that the rules don't have to apply, no matter who's making them, the courts or the people.

No ex-hippies stammering about the inherent worth and dignity of every person from an adobe den in a 900,000 dollar home. No tourist board trying to convince airline commuters in both coasts to drop in for some green chile. Just direct eye contact, a handshake and an easy smile, a friendly argument, an illegitimate transaction, maybe a ride across town just for the hell of it. A thug, a gun nut, a drug addict, an investment broker, an artist, and a gamer out in the foothills for a hike to a nice blunt and a view of the wasteland to keep it all in perspective. The cold ring of a gunshot outside the window at 4 in the morning.

We come to understand that the rules are bent so that we can all live in relative ease, as long as we keep a small chip on our shoulders. It's not necessarily who you know, it's how you carry yourself, what you've learned, what you can do, how you react, or how well you bluff. It's getting mindfucked by somebody you give directions to. It's a meth lab in a children's nursery, or in a camper cruising the freeways. It's joining the army after being brainwashed on 9/11, snapping out of it in boot camp, then smoking weed in the barracks and refusing your duties until they throw you out in disgust. It's the most hardcore skating in the nation, without need of recognition. It's stopping to talk to an old girlfriend in front of the university while you and your childhood playmate are smuggling an AK-47 in a guitar case. It's seeing REAL (but needless) fear in the eyes of every man in the riot squad when you're at the front of a ten-thousand-head peace mob flooding Central the day we start bombing Iraq. It's getting assaulted a block from your house.

The more I describe it, the more I lose track. You get the idea. There's still a vibrance here, a lust for life that many people in this country only know in formulated doses administered by an ever-encroaching media. People here are not docile, nor are they stupid. The harder they come, the more heart they have to throw around. It's no wonder the glory of this kind of life is romanticized by the popular culture of our nation, because when you live in a place like this, you can feel it.

       - Gabe Langton

We're just ordinary people

I'm gonna tell you about my weekend starting yesterday and working backward, like a Seinfeld episode they made near the end of the series when they started running out of ideas. Sunday afternoon saw no homework done, and a whole lotta furniture moving. My bed got taken down, put under the other, and now the entire space feels much more open, albeit kind of awkward. I plan to employ my funiture-moving expertise once more after my roommate leaves. Victor is still living with me, three weeks after hearing about his suspension, two weeks after turning in his room key. I gotta admit, I love the kid dearly, but it's so hard living with someone in his situation. I want to help get him moving, but there is really nothing I can do aside from let him use my room as a base and pressure him to get going on shit. I end up sounding like an asshole, which is totally not my intention. I just wish he had found a place to live and a decent job after three weeks of sorting shit out, but till that moment, I'm going to be in roommate purgatory. Sunday morning didn't even exist.

Saturday was an interesting mix of events. Susie, Blair, Eve and a few others helped decorate the campus center and set up sound for a piano player/songwriter named Rob Gonzales. We had to put him on a balcony above the school cafeteria, which he wasn't entirely happy about, and mic his voice and the piano with cheap wireless. It wasn't the best sound, but in all, it turned out alright. Pink and red tablecloths with roses and candles set the mood for what Susie and I noted to be the most awkward dinner of the year for everyone. After I'd had my fill of people-watching and a little pasta and salad, I left to meet Gabe, Dave, Cris, Victor and Sarah for an off-campus adventure. We set out to the Loring Pasta Bar in dinkytown, right by the University of Minnesota. We got there, parked, waited an hour for the table, and damn was it worth every second of it. Live Brazillian samba and bossa nova, amazing food, great company (a good proportion of my best friends here), and the $140 tab split in half. Amazing.

After this, we met Rachel, our new friend at the U (we met her the previous weekend through a completely obscure connection). Gabe, Cris and I hung out at her apartment with her, her roommates and a few friends until 3:30 in the morning. We watched the best of Mike Meyers, talked a ton about life, school, and various other topics. Gabe and I noted on the drive home how good it was to meet new people, attractive people, very cool people, that weren't subject to the stupid social dynamic at Macalester. We all agreed that this night would have to be repeated. For sanity's sake. Saturday morning did not exist either.

On friday, I was in no mood to drink, so resolving to stay sober, I met up with Lars, Cris and my roommate. Lars brought his fancy camera, I started taking some pictures and fell entirely back in love with photography. Some of the pictures from friday can be seen on Lar's site. I took a good number of portraits and close-ups, and just loved it. The party progressed from one spot to another, till I got a call on my cell phone urging me to pick up a friend at a party who couldn't walk home. Being sober and a kind-hearted individual, I drove the 4 blocks, picked her up, helped put the poor girl to bed. I gotta say, if you care about your friends, it's not even a big deal to do this shit for them when they need it. I stayed up until about 4 am talking to some friends, watching an hour of Lord of the Rings before my ADD kicked in. I don't know, maybe it's not ADD if you fall asleep.

I was talking with my friend Hannah last night about this school and how it eats your life. Unless you make a huge effort to get away from it all, you don't leave the mile radius around here, you don't get to see much of the cities, in which there is so much to see, you don't get to meet new people with different experiences and different views on life, and you're perpetually stuck in this same cycle of hanging out with the same people, getting drunk and waking up hungover. It sucks. I would want to transfer if I didn't know that there are awesome people all over this city just waiting to be met. I want to stay here for the academics, for my department, my connections. I want to stay here for the friendship of about 10 or 15 people. But in all honesty, it's not even worth it to put effort into maintaining a social life here. Sure, stay close to those 10 or 15 people, but as for the rest of it...

I'm sorry if this makes me sound cynical about my life. I guess I kind of am. I'm not really happy with my lack of focus, my living arrangement, the social dynamic on this campus. The escapes I'm craving are all too far away, and the funds are dwindling. If I had the space, I'd play music and write songs, if I had the money I'd travel somewhere exciting, if I had the energy I'd start lifting, and if I had the direction I'd be more excited about where I'm headed. As for now, I'm here, and I just have to learn to love it.

Slurred speech and the slow passage of time

This has been about the longest last two weeks of my life. Time takes forever to pass, and looking back it seems impossible that I packed as much into one evening as I did. There's a disconnect between the beginning of the night and the end.

Friday night saw what was likely the biggest party in 30 mac this year. For those of you unaware of my living situation, I live in the quiet, substance-free dorm on campus, for the simple reason that it's the nicest room we could pull with the draw number we had. Friday night, Cris, Owen, Gabe and I bought a total of around 70 dollars worth of alcohol. We invited various people to my room to have some drinks. The entire thing was intended as a pre-party for my friend Liz's birthday party. The music started, the drinks were poured, and all 15-20 of us proceeded to get trashed, crunked, ridiculous, whatever you're gonna call it. The music was loud, we were loud, 70 dollars worth of alcohol was consumed very quickly. Gabe went to his room to mix a gin and tonic and said he could hear this party in his room, halfway across 30 mac. Some pre-party.

We finally set out for Liz's at about 11, after two and a half hours of partying in the quiet substance-free dorm. I was verging on too drunk to talk clearly, some of us were having trouble walking, others were having trouble not saying dumb shit. Regardless, we got to Liz's where I knew a few people, but the party was largely seniors that I didn't know. Regardless, I had a good time for the time I was there. After some time, we left and walked... Ate it on the icy sidewalks, got home. Still couldn't talk right. Resolved to stay sober saturday night.

Saturday came around, and after effectively killing most of the day bumming around and hanging out with friends, Gabe and I decided to go hang out with Kit and Jesse in their dorm. We show up, Kit is filming with a video camera, Jesse is lying down on an array of Rolling Rock cans, a friend grabs his feet and starts rolling him, stomach down, on the beer. Everyone tries the beer rub, Jesse's little sister and the 200 lb ripped Kit included, and I gotta say, it does feel damn good. If anyone wants the details on how to set up and run the beer rub, let me know. After the beer rubbing was all done and caught on tape, we brought out the guitars. For those of you that don't know, Kit is an amazing singer. And after last night, I'm of the opinion that he's a damn good songwriter as well. We improvised, played all kinds of songs, loved it. Kit wants to put together a band. I know I'd be down, that jam was really good.

We left Kit's, wandered a bit, eventually went to a four-keg party. We were there for all of half an hour, trying to simply work our way through the 400+ crowd in the massive basement when people started talking about cops showing up. Now, what do you do with 400 kids in a basement when the cops show up? Nothing, let them figure it out themselves. We got outside and left. I still hadn't been drinking, so we picked up my car and drove to another party several blocks away. Gabe and I played an aweful game of beirut, about the worst I've seen either of us. In defeat, we decided to go to Perkins at 2 AM. Cute hostess hung out at our table and talked with us for ten minutes, some good down-home cookin' and as always, some good conversation. We came home, I went to sleep.

I'm trying my hardest to not take life too seriously, but it's hard when you see your friends breaking down around you. One good friend was very depressed last weekend, another just suffered a hard break up, others want to leave macalester. I try not to let this get to me, but recently I've been wondering how worth it this whole college thing is anyway. I love my classes, and I know I'll be able to go good places with a well-earned degree in economics. I just can't help but feel a little stuck here, like none of us really want to be here, so we get trashed and forget about it. All of my friends are still fully in the sophomore slump. It's really sad to see, and I really don't want to be stuck in it. But I am, and that's all there is to it. I've just gotta do what I need to do, try not to take shit too seriously. It's really just hard sometimes, but I know for sure I'm certainly not alone in feeling like this. It's the mood of my whole damn school.

Here's to hoping shit gets a little better, and cheers to good weekends and good friends and brothers with birthdays. Nazdrave.

Note to all: I'm gonna cut these down in frequency. I'm still of the mind that blogging ruins social lives, so savor these posts when you get 'em.

Economics is like sex

It was one of those days. My first real social contact this morning was Eve. Awesome girl, good friend from freshman year. I asked her what she was up to this weekend, and preceded to tell her Weber was having a party on Weber. "Weber lives on Weber?" I realized and pointed out that I meant Wheeler. "It's early," she remarked and we went our respective ways. I got to my class "Explorations of Race and Racism" and said some pretty stupid stuff, not offensive, just ridiculously confused... And being as thoughtful as I am, I've examined these topics a good degree in my life. It came off as I was completely ignorant to racial attitudes in my hometown of Santa Fe. Felt like shit for that one. I went to lunch and ate with Hannah, Laura (Hannah's best friend, cool girl), and Clint. After Clint spilled his soy milk all over the table, we all agreed that it was one of those days.

I think that last night just set me up to have an off day. Shit about that girl came up again, and I realized it's taking a longer time than I thought to get over it. I had to write a paper for "Race and Racism," faced some pretty lame writer's block. It didn't come out how I would've wanted, and I think this contributed to my dumbshitness in class this morning. Whatever. It's all over and done with.

Getting to micro and having Sukhatme's sarcasm significantly lightened my mood. So much so, that I want to share some of my favorite quotes from this well-respected head of the economics department at Macalester:

"Economics is like sex, it's best when you take it slow."
"Al Qaeda... I don't like those bastards."
"When you're dead you don't have a demand curve."
And my personal favorite: "I don't know what to make of your comment, I'll just ignore it."

That man has an uncanny ability, through some combination of intellect, arrogance and sarcasm, to make a shitty day a little more fun. Although I'm still tired as shit and not sure if I'm insecure about my racial identity, at least I can again take the attitude that it really don't matter. It's a friday, a friend is throwing a house party, and the rest of my weekend is getting planned out. It's gonna be tight, I'll keep ya'll updated.

Cheers
*clink*

This may not be worth it

MistaGuitarMan: Me
johnsungur: My friend Matt using his roommates screenname
Context: Matt just said the work "blanket" when he meant to say "drink." I am an asshole and am giving him grief for such a failure at life. Read on:

johnsungur: Oh, and die a horrible fucking death
MistaGuitarMan: i probably will
johnsungur: I'll probably be involved in some way
johnsungur: that's the kind of thought that keeps me warm at night
MistaGuitarMan: have you ever thought how you wanna die?
johnsungur: yeah
MistaGuitarMan: cause i've definitely thought about how i want you to die
johnsungur: extacy and sex overdose at the age of 125
MistaGuitarMan: woah
johnsungur: with your dead fucking body
johnsungur: then my spirit will be so at rest I'll go straight to heaven
johnsungur: where I will piss on your burning soul
MistaGuitarMan: i think i want you to die in a
horrible fishing accident, involving hooks, your nuts and pirhannas
johnsungur: ...
johnsungur: Why would anyone ever fish for pirhannas?
MistaGuitarMan: why would anyone ever say blanket instead of drink?
MistaGuitarMan: people do dumb shit
johnsungur: because I was typing to you, then Ben, then I came back to finish what I was saying to you
johnsungur: People say dumb shit, but they do...
johnsungur: REALLY dumb shit
MistaGuitarMan: like fish for pirhannas
MistaGuitarMan: i know
MistaGuitarMan: um, i gotta go
johnsungur: bullshit
MistaGuitarMan: my beautiful naked lady friend is
beckoning me seductively
johnsungur: ....
MistaGuitarMan: nature calls bro
MistaGuitarMan: peace
johnsungur: Pez

I got a present for ya'll

This is last friday night. The hand is mine, the girl is Hannah (just about the coolest girl ever), and the photo is the incredible work of Lars Johnson. Enjoy.