SOUTHERN CALI

Hiking Mt. Baldy

Near the hike’s summit!

Would you have guessed this was in the desert?

OREGON

Journey tribute band… Does the guy in the headband give it away? (He was our favorite.)

The beautiful Columbia River Gorge.

View of Portland from the Pittock Mansion!

One of my favorite views of all time.

Dusk at the Oregon Coast!

Homemade burgers at the beach!

Red velvet cupcakes for my man’s birthday!
(Did you know the secret ingredient is SUPPOSED to be beets, and not red food coloring?)

What did you do this summer?

“Well, what do you know about music?”

This question infuriated me, for reasons you might not fully understand.  Even without that context, I had just met this person! Seriously? That’s how you’re going to treat a good friend of your friend?  Not the best first impression, if you ask me!

But, true to my pacifist nature, instead of firing out my personal credentials I retorted, “Well, my parents are musicians.” Yeah, I hid behind that line. Not “I am a musician.” Not even a lighthearted “What don’t I know about music?”

It’s true, though; my mom teaches piano from our home, and my dad is a jazz bassist. They are both talented and well-versed, and deserve every penny they make.

Yours truly, circa age 3.

When you’re a musician’s daughter, you’re raised with an extreme exposure to music. On any given morning of the week, my older sister and I would wake up to “Mary Had a Little Lamb” or that song from Titanic by Celine Dion pounding out from a student downstairs. We’ve heard every wrong way to play “Für Elise” and “Yankee Doodle” known to mankind. We also knew the difference between Fred Astaire and Frank Sinatra by kindergarten.

But there’s more to it than that.

You see, if there’s anything you should know about me, let alone anything remarkable, it’s my own lifelong interactions with music and my growth as a musician.

DISCLAIMER: my intention is not to show off. I’m writing this to show, to share, and to bring myself to terms with who I’ve been and how that’s relevant to who I am.

Music has defined my life: from genetics and the way I was raised, to my own interests and pursuits and my resulting knowledge of 20th Century music. Give me music or lyrics from the past 50 years; in most cases, I’ll be able to identify the song and artist.”Name that tune” or “finish these lyrics” are favorite pastimes of mine. I was notorious enough for my knowledge that I became my high school’s DJ; it was the crowning glory of my 17-year-old self.

My notoriety didn’t follow me far into college, though. When people I meet in college learn that I play piano, they ask if I’m good. I immediately respond, “Oh, no. Not at all.”  But if I put aside my fear of being prideful, I’ll admit that I have near-perfect pitch*.  I can play nearly any song by ear within minutes (or seconds). My repertoire includes classical pieces and modern music, which I arrange by ear. I experiment with gusto, bravado, quiet mourning, gentle musing, or spunk. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve got a few different styles at my disposal when I sit down at the keys.

(*After reading that, I’m pretty sure I have passive, not active perfect pitch – but I’ve never been tested.)

I aced music theory in high school and have written my own music. I played alto saxophone for six years and successfully soloed at a major jazz festival. I co-founded a garage band in high school, organizing and arranging many of the songs for our performances. I’ve learned the bare bones of trumpet, and I can work with the bass guitar well enough to do what I need while jamming.

Jamming. You heard me… I jam.

And I have the capacity to jam because I AM A MUSICIAN!

So… I guess that’s what I know about music.

Yet, I denied that many times. Am I modest, embarrassed, or just holding myself to an impossible standard?  Maybe all three. I don’t know if it matters, though. What any answer boils down to is my belief that I’m not worthy of that title – that using it would be offensive to professional musicians.

I don’t consider myself worthy, even though my parents themselves (not to mention mentors and instructors) have poured out encouragement, finances, and time into my musicianship my entire life.

They did so not for their personal benefit, but my proficiency and development as a musician. They poured out those things so that one day I could have the gift of calling myself a musician, too.

My days in jazz band might be over, my high school garage band might be split across the country, I may have never won a prestigious music award, and I might not even be a music major.

But by God’s design, I am a musician.

I hope to never deny that again.

2. After this class, I intend to continue to blog. Whether or not I’ll export this blog to another WordPress site is to be decided, but this thing has caught some momentum within me and I’m finding that I can’t hold back my ideas! There’s still so much for me to learn, and potential for more growth – and I want to see that through.

3. I was surprised to learn how effective it was to study the bloggers whose content I regularly engage with. What was it about their content that compelled me to click “follow”? Simply connecting those dots helped me realize that my content didn’t have to be revolutionary –  so I started simply by making it accessible.

4. My writing is pretty wordy. Sometimes my wordiness is inefficient. On this blog my style has been formal, casual with a hint of humor, flowery, or a combination of all three. In general, I try to get a little beneath the surface, so my tone is often serious here. I like to have fun with both my personal writing and assignments, though, and I think that comes through.

5.  In the past, the idea of blogging stressed me out and caused anxiety. I’ve known I’ve wanted to blog for over a year now, and I’ve attempted various strategies to figure out how I wanted it to look – what I wanted to convey. I strove to perfect the idea of my image and brand before even writing a 350 word sample post. Of course, nothing ever got off the ground that way. That’s why I decided to take this class: in order to learn  how to prepare for lift off – how to take off – and fly the plane.  So for me, most of the initial work was getting over the stress and anxiety. I put thought and care into my posts, and to be frank, I accomplished more in this class than I thought was possible for me. This opportunity has been the catalyst I’ve been searching for, and I finally feel equipped to pursue blogging!

Volved.org is a bird of a different feather, though. Volved is an Oregon local nonprofit startup (mouthful, huh?) that has partnered with Google to produce a brand new service to tech-savvy, socially-responsible generations – one specific appeal to younger generations is that we can make a tangible difference even if we’re not on our own feet financially yet.

Here’s how the magic works:

1. Pick a Cause (out of the many listed) YOU want to support. (Don’t worry – you can hop around and change whenever you want. And trust me, you’ll want to: it’s hard to choose just one!)

2. Install the Volved search bar to your browser- Internet Explorer, Firefox, Chrome, Safari, what have you.

3. Your web searches automatically allocate search-generated $ to support your Cause. You don’t have to drop a dime.

4. Engage with your Cause – dip your toes in, and really get involved. On the Volved toolbar you can read short blog posts, get inspired, learn more about the organization and what’s going on with this Cause you’re passionate about making a difference with.

5. Share Volved w/ others: invite your friends via Facebook, Twitter, or e-mail using the easy share features Volved provides. Why? Because we make the most impact when we act in numbers. How are people going to find out how easy and awesome this if you don’t tell them? Well… we have to tell them.

But it doesn’t have to stop there.  Let’s make this viral.

Do you want to raise money for nonprofits while surfing the web?

Try getting in VOLVED, a local nonprofit that enables us to make a difference each time we search.

When I realized I was addicted to coffee in every way possible, I decided to test my ability to resist. It started with not brewing any at home, and ditching my wallet when I went to school. I went cold turkey for a week and a half; no caffeine at all.

The effects?

• I felt more rested than I had in weeks.
• I was hydrated again, and found myself drinking more water.
• I felt at peace more often and more fully.
• I longed for the smell of coffee more than the taste – and my fatigue was memorable enough for me to resist when I studied near a coffee shop.

After this week and a half, I decided I could treat myself to a small black coffee – after all, I’d been good, and I had a fat stack of studying to plow through. And you know what? I survived. I didn’t lapse back into the daily grind of those deliciously addictive, roasted coffee beans. But I did realize how much I missed warm drinks.

I have a new daily routine now. One as equally hot, satisfying, healthy (just watch this awesome video for proof!), relaxing, and stimulating.

Tea!

My tea of choice is a combination of green tea and jasmine tea – I love the benefits and the lower (than coffee) caffeine content of green tea, but the jasmine rounds the tea out to a flavor that I really, really enjoy.

I’ve liked tea for as long as I can remember, but I kept my consumption at an occasional level. What was once my go-to beverage predominantly when my throat was swollen, tea is back in my life in a big way – in a daily way.

I’ll have a cup of java when the timing is right, but for the most part, I’d like to think I’m better off without the addiction. We’ll see how that holds up long-term.

In the meantime, thanks to tea, I can continue to be a morning person – I can crack open a book, catch up with a friend, or sit at the keys knowing a nice, hot drink will warm me up and help me prepare for the day ahead.

I became indoctrinated to the taste in the form of coffee-flavored candies as a child. When I was nine years old, my older sister offered me a taste of her iced mocha. Over the next few years, I nodded in approval to sugared and creamed lattes, white mochas, caramel macchiatos – but I began to swear off those when I realized they were neither calorically nor financially viable.

It took me until age 19 to order (and learn how to savor) black coffee, a healthier and more affordable alternative to my previous beverages of choice. College was the perfect time for black coffee to make its way into my daily routine. To start, you can find the stuff anywhere!  Spending time with a cup helped me slow down and sit with friends, speed up and get energized for the day, and generally gave me a boost no matter what hour it was.

The greatest part for me, other than the taste, was that coffee turned me into a morning person. Previously, I would avoid mornings – stay up late, sleep in until the last minute possible. What was the point of jerking myself out of bed to be somewhere on time, or even early? It sounded like a waste of time to me.

After coffee, though, I became kind of obsessed, and maybe a little protective of my mornings. It was the one chance of the day I had to myself – to awaken, enjoy my cup, and [ideally] read some Word – before everything would get crazy.

Also, this infographic that convinced me I was doing myself a favor!

Fast forward three years, and I realize I have a straight-up addiction. I had guessed as much whenever I moved back home and coffee became less available, but within the past two months I’ve realized that coffee was no longer anticipated, but expected. I would brew a pot before my eyes fully opened, drinking a cup before I had the cognitive ability to decide.

In addition, I felt what I can only describe as a hangover.  I’ve never actually had a true hangover — but if I had, I’m positive it would feel similar to how I felt those worst mornings (and days) of my coffee obsession. My cup (or three) was no longer enjoyable, and my body no longer responded to those magical molecules.

In fact, the opposite began to happen – my body felt even more overloaded with fatigue and headaches.  It was miserable.

Why did I do this to myself?

What convinced me to change… and what changes did I make?

Stay tuned for my next post.

(c) 2010 The Forum News

I love watching nature come into bloom; the idea of planting a garden excites me. Thrills me. Cultivating something this earth was made for… the natural course of life. As roots beneath the surface grow steadily, all of a sudden – up through the dirt and grime springs hope.Gardening isn’t easy, though. I imagine gardening is one of the greatest tests of patience one can endure. After meeting the preparatory demands of a garden, you crave the sweet rewards – beautifully painted petals, perhaps fresh budding fruit, or a sturdy selection of starch and healthily amassing vegetables.  Now that the hard work is done, that’s what you’re waiting for. That’s where your satisfaction will lie.

But you spend so many weeks, months hoping…that you give up. You start to wonder if you did something wrong while setting this whole garden thing up. Maybe you’re not even growing a garden, and the flora around you still aren’t budding yet. In that situation, hope starts to wane. This well-known and understood truth that plants grow, bud, and flower starts to seem more like some kook’s fantasy than a promised reality.

So when that ugly bush in front of your door blooms into lovely fuschia,  you can hardly believe your eyes. You mean that dumb bush you’ve been staring at for the past two months is actually capable of that caliber of majesty?

(c) 2010 Jim the Chin

I don’t know about you, but my life is like that a lot.  Out of impatience, I scorn the idea that good things are to come – that I’ll see the fruits of my labor. It would be naive of me to think otherwise. So, I paint everything around me grey, (what can I say? I’m an Oregonian; it’s all we know) and simultaneously stop believing in rainbows.  There comes a point when I’m no longer able to visualize life in bloom.

So naturally, when I saw lush purple flowers bursting forth from the dry, dull bush in front of my apartment door, I did a double take. Is that the same bush? Did the landscaping people… no, it wasn’t a transplant bush. It was the same physical plant – only now it is thriving, blooming, alive.

God promises us that if we remain rooted in Him, we’ll thrive. His goodness is the soil we were made for. His love provides the strength our weak, sprouting seedlings that we call bodies need in order to be secure, and Jesus’ light provides us with a means to grow, reach out, and bear fruit more delightful than we know how to imagine.

Of Monsters and Men, the Icelandic alternative folk-rock outfit, released their smashing debut album with Universal in the U.S. last month. Find out who they are, which songs to watch for, and why you don’t want to miss this album.

Of Monsters and Men is one of the most prominent break-out artists of the year. Having experienced wild success with their first single “Little Talks” previously this year, their album My Head Is An Animal was highly anticipated and was finally released in early April, to great applause from alternative-folk-rock lovers. Hailing from Iceland, where the ever-erratic Björk and ethereal Sigur Rós originated as well, the band attracted an American following when they championed a nation-wide Battle of the Bands (Músíktilraunir) in 2010. Of Monsters and Men caught the attention of Seattle radio station KEXP, with other alternative radio stations following suit. Currently, “Little Talks” is sweeping the alt-rock stations’ request lines by storm, and Of Monsters and Men has secured a record contract with Universal, who promised to release their album internationally.

The Unstoppable Six
Of Monsters and Men is a six-member band led by (and created by) Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir, a soprano who sings with a delightfully wistful, slightly breathy tone, and plays guitar. She is featured with a male singer and guitar player, Ragnar “Raggi” Þórhallsson. Raggi, who sings in the alto/tenor range, complements Nanna’s lilting voice with a tone smooth-as-butter, radiating a reassuring confidence. The supporting musicians of the band include guitarist Brynjar Leifsson, piano (and accordion) player Árni Guðjónsson, sturdy bassist Kristján Páll Kristjánsson, and relentless drummer Arnar Rósenkranz Hilmarsson. Nanna, the ringleader, formed the band to support her solo project, but once she and co-singer Raggi began to write songs together, they never looked back. Each band member is a vital component of this band, whose use of layers and diverse instruments builds the foundation for their alluring musical identity.

The Voice of a Generation
The band’s musical style is reflective of the growing trend of organic (rather than synthesized or purely electronically produced) sounds, which tend to convey a deep sense of community and connectedness to emotions, to the earth, and to the future. The alternative-folk-rock genre has always represented a yearning for simplicity, authenticity, emotional investment in life, and exploring meaning. Of Monsters and Men has recaptured this exact yearning, this generational movement, in their take of new-age alternative rock, using their own musical blend of instruments in My Head Is An Animal.

Musical Revival
Their debut record reclaims and refreshes the entire alternative folk rock genre, alongside the likes of alternative troubadours Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros and folksy, passionate Mumford and Sons. Another prominent contemporary peer is Arcade Fire, whose music tends to soar and echo in ways similar to our Icelandic friends’. The Civil Wars and Andrew Belle feature similar male-female dual lead vocals. It’s evident that Of Monsters and Men upholds great integrity in writing music, blending poetic lyrics with an infectious, yet entirely authentic catchiness that delivers, which makes comparisons to other groups in the genre fall short. While some bands produce a handful of memorable songs per album, Of Monsters and Men refuses to stop short of its potential, and knocks each and every song on the record out of the park.

My Head Is An Animal is a spirited alternative-folk record, taking the listener on a journey through triumphant trumpets and tambourines, accordions, glockenspiels, choruses of shouts, and strong piano, drums and guitars. Of Monsters and Men polishes their genre with energy, harmony, precision, passion, and unity. Most choruses feature musical call-and-response between female vocalist Nanna and male vocalist Raggi. There is a spirit of adventure in their sound, especially in songs such as “Mountain Sound” which features an up-tempo, rip-roaring beat on the drums, and an uplifting melody on piano and guitar. This adventurous spirit is also manifested in the music video for “Little Talks” as animated figures of the band members all voyage through several perils and escape fantastical beasts to return a beautiful creature to her home. This video serves a great metaphor for the victorious energy the music inspires in the listener – showing that with perseverance, and a lot of luck, obstacles can be overcome.

However, that doesn’t mean everything on the album is rainbows and happy endings. Of Monsters and Men explores themes of loss and trials, while their melodies tend to soar with a contrasting optimism and certainty of perseverance. As a band of six members, there are multiple instruments harmonizing and producing precision sometimes quietly and introspectively, with softly repeated melodies as a stringed instruments’ motif builds in the background and fades: other times in a seemingly celebratory, raucous chorus full of rhythmic shouts. Boasting acoustic melodies, echoing effects, and complimentary, harmonized, ethereal voices, this record is full of thoughtfulness, with delightful instruments and the kinds of sounds that inspire heroism, in spite of the sense of mourning portrayed through the album, noted in songs such as “From Finner.” My Head Is An Animal is an album is sure to top the year-end charts, and possibly the decade.

My Head Is An Animal is an invitation from the Icelandic sextet to join them in the musical journeys their songs comprise. For young adults around the globe, or anyone searching for fun and adventure, meaning and hope, or someone who enjoys a good foot-stomper, Of Monsters and Men is sure to not only deliver, but also inspire.

The industry of blogging has a low barrier for entry – anyone and their mom can create a blog. But the media’s presence online is expanding, and since journalists are bound to a code of ethics, should bloggers be as well? How else can we mediate the internet, or call out bloggers who are violating the generic moral code? Should the internet really be a free-for-all?

Of the handful of blogging codes of ethics I’ve read this term, I think this one over at Mom Crunch is the most compelling (and not because of the Biblical allusion).  Blogger cecilyk asked for ideas for ‘commandments’ from the blogging community and narrowed some 400 answers down to just ten.  The reason why this code struck me more than some of the others is (a) it’s obviously formatted for the internet – she doesn’t use just blocks of text (hey…who’s got two thumbs and is full of hypocrisy?), and (b) that she gets specific: and that specificity speaks to many  harmful aspects of blogging that we don’t always foresee, but most of us fall into.

Honoring fellow bloggers, “Thou Shall Comment As Thou Wishes To Be Commented Upon” and ”Thou Shall Remember to Unplug” are key points that I believe weren’t captured as well by some of the other blogging codes of ethics, the Commandment about unplugging and living life resonated with me especially. Why should I take advice about life from someone who never leaves their computer? Life is to be lived, not merely discussed.

What About Me?

Do ethics play a part in my blogging? I think inadvertently they do. Most of my writing is personal and introspective, not opinionated or informational. I’m not exactly in danger of spreading false information or slandering others. If (and when) I do write about current events, or knowledge I find important, relevant, or fascinating, there’s no way I wouldn’t take care in providing accuracy. I realize that I subconsciously hold myself to many of these standards listed in the various ethical codes – and part of this is my tame content.

Here are two very plausible ethical dilemmas.

A) You Google yourself and find that another blogger has taken several of your original blog posts and posted them on her site. She includes your name as the author, but does not include the link to your site nor any other information about it. You see she’s gotten thousands of hits and lots of comments in response to a post YOU WROTE. How would you handle it? What are the ethical issues this raises?

If this actually happened to me, I would be furious. I’m imagining myself taking the high road, communicating calmly and coolly, but in all likelihood, I’d be irate – which never happens. In response, I’d post the link to my original post on her post, and send her a private message telling her what’s up - that she has one week to tell all of her followers that her content isn’t original, and point them toward me (and whomever else she stole from).

From here on out, I would watch her like a hawk and comment on everything she copies, plainly stating that she did not write this and providing a link to whoever did. I would write a post about it on my blog, linking to her site, and include the ultimatum I gave her for the public to see. I’d probably complain to all my friends, too – especially if she denied everything. (I’m so mature, sheesh.)

The ethical issues this raises….are many. This chick would not be honoring her fellow bloggers, because this is straight up plaigiarism, which violates the first rule of the Online Journalism Review’s ethical guidelines. Frankly, I think plaigiarism violates everyone’s ethical guidelines: especially when it’s irrefutable, clear as day, such as this case. It’s a little frightening to realize that as a victim, I’d be somewhat powerless against it. Could I sue her? Would I? Is it worth it – especially if I’m not granted protection in court? The hypothetical example described above is the kind of case that makes me cry out for regulation and mediation on the internet. Not censorship, but some kind of organized effort to bring justice to these kinds of events.  How is it that I’d be powerless against this kind of violation?

This leads to the ethical issue of accountability. If everyone on the internet is self-policed, who is actually holding themselves accountable; does this system really work? If we can’t hold ourselves accountable, who should be granted that power? Do we really need a ‘mommy’ figure to discipline the outliers?

B) In social media outlets like Twitter, Facebook, and many blogs, writers blurt out lots of information that are no more than rumors – often false. They’d rather be first than be right. Think about the codes of ethics you’ve read. Which rules apply? Which rules SHOULD apply?

This is an intricate and widespread dilemma. The rate of news consumption through social media doesn’t always allow time for multiple sources to be gathered, or facts to be checked (unfortunately). Life happens at a fast pace, and use of social media tends to amplify that pace. When it comes down to it, I believe different rules apply to different platforms. Live-tweeting is an awesome component to any event, and I don’t consider it unethical when used by journalists, as long as they are tweeting for their publication and remain unbiased. (Save the snarky comments for your personal twitter – unless that’s against the policy of your publication.)

I believe that both on Twitter and blogs, writers (professionals and amateurs alike) should include corrections in updates, and admit mistakes.  I believe disclaimers should always be included when sources (and their reliability) are minimal or absent. I believe this because everyone should feel obligated not to spread false information – and if something is false, it should be brought to light.

Light in the night. (c) jarlosn

Gungor is a musical outfit lead by Michael Gungor.  Gungor is more recently known for a piece called “Beautiful Things,” the namesake of their 2010 album.

If you aren’t familiar with their music, let me start by saying this: if Muse, The Civil Wars, Elliott Smith and Mumford & Sons could conceive a collective Christian-music-lovechild, Gungor would be it. In the two albums of theirs I have, I hear Muse‘s daring rhythmic experiments and grandiose rock instrumentation, The Civil Wars‘ haunting, delicately strong coed duets, Elliott Smith‘s minimalism and raw lyrics, Mumford & Son‘s drive — and banjos, of course.  (Hopefully one of these names rings a bell for you. If not, listen and draw your own parallels!) This band crosses so many genres that stylistically, they can’t be tamed.

Go Green

Gungor is like the local, organic green juice (too passé? try Kombucha) at New Seasons that takes a few years for Fred Meyer to add to their inventory. At first, only the health nuts go for it – everyone else is still buying Capri Suns, the metaphorical Christian music equivalent of poppy overproduced feel-good tunes.

Organic is the first word that comes to mind to describe Gungor: from the feel and sound to the lyrics and emotions embedded therein. Raw. Not too much sugar. You can feel the pulp, the fibers, and break them down with your tongue against your teeth. The way you consume this kind of food is how  it feels to process this music.

When I listen to these albums, I feel like I’m listening to Michael Gungor have an argument with God. In song, Michael Gungor confesses doubt, weakness, and disdain – and with just as much heart, gives thanks and praise for every last breath. It’s refreshingly real, and on my worst nights, I can sit and reflect with Gungor as we wonder together where our faith has gone, like we’re old friends.

So, why do I want to be like Gungor?

Well, why would anyone want to be like a rockstar? Everyone has this dream at some point, no matter how unrealistic. The reason why I, as a person, want to be like this group, is that I want people to see what I can do and say, “She can really do anything.” The way Gungor plays across multiple genres, styles, instruments – in that same way, wherever expression leads me, I want to be able to follow.

No more confinement. I want to be daring, vulnerable, to experiment with writing and music in wild, earthy ways.

I’d rather produce grit and pulp, revealing the ugly truth than sell prettied-up frozen juice concentrate.

I want to whisper with meaning – not ramble on in loud, continuous drivel.

Most of all, I want to be in love with life the way Gungor is…

And maybe that’s not so hard to do once we realize we’re surrounded by so many Beautiful Things.

 (c) 2012, sunshineband

How about you?
Who do you want to be like, and why?