Posers

Okay, so it's childish, immature and completely cliche, but I just can't resist calling out posers.  If you don't know what a poser is, just read this standard definition set forth by yours truly!

POSER (noun) 1. an individual who, with limited knowledge, pretends to understand a particular trend; 2. an individual seeking a particular social-scene because it's trendy; 3. this dude at the coffee shop.

So Kayla and I went to get some coffee and WHOA! the dude was wearing a Mayhem tee-shirt.  If you don't know who Mayhem is (and you probably don't) just understand that they have a rather unique band history, especially concerning the founding members.  So, I asked this dude at the coffee shop if he liked the band Mayhem, to which he replied he did, and then I proceeded to uncover that he had actually no knowledge of the band's history.  Now, that may seem rather inane, but the band's foundation was a crucial moment not only for the band but for the music scene in which the band was involved.  And this guy, proclaiming to be a fan (not just of the band, but of the scene) was completely oblivious to those critical events.

*cough*POSER*cough*  

Blast Beats

 . . . as a child I remember standing there at the end of my driveway, waiting for the school bus and wondering what wondrous taunts the bullies would have for me, seeing as I was a geeky fifth grader carrying a xylophone . . . that's right, a xylophone!


THIS DORKY THING!

There's no way you could possibly look cool lugging that heavy thing.  And d____ those things were heavy. I remember in high school when I actually put on a pair of marching-xylophones (for our marching band didn't believe in drum-pits) and I was amazed at how heavy those things were.  I really gave it to the two girls for maintaining the stamina to keep up out on the field, but man I was glad to have been Sectional Leader (by seniority) and snare 1.

 . . . because that thing was so much more cooler than those dorky xylophones!

  

But in truth, I hated the snare.  I hated the xylophone.  And I really hated the crash cymbals (an unfortunate instrument forced upon freshman).  I just wanted to play the drums people.  And the guitar.  And the bass.  And video games and chess and Risk.  So I did . . . 

. 

 . . . .as I proclaim, thus I am.

Haha . . . aww, yes.

Blasting Back Into Action

It's been five months?! Five d___ months? What have I been doing???

A lot.

Kayla and I are now engaged. The proposal was nerve-racking, my hiding the ring for a whole month while simultaneously striving to devise a special gift for the occasion. As a joke, Kayla once said "[she] would like a snow-globe for Christmas, with a diamond ring in it."  Coincidentally, that week on the morning news a report was aired on Christmas Creativity, in which middle-aged housewives explained DIY snow-globes.  And so, voila!  A plan had formed.  On Christmas day, as Kayla stared into a DIY snow-globesque creation I concocted (complete with a gaudy, giant glass-diamond ring), she was rather puzzled.  Until, I asked gently for her hand marriage.  

She accepted.

In other news, Kayla's RV purchase has been quite the obstacle, but with a little help from some parentals and a lot of back-ache, our journey to Tennessee for a week of musical-debauchery will go smoothly.  The RV is a beast . . . a loud, rumbling, behemoth of pastels and childish-imagery.  I like it!