Like him or not, if you have paid any attention to the Late Night show chaos between Jay Leno and Conan Obrien, you need to check out this clip where Jimmy Kimmel... rips into Leno on Leno's own show. Wow. I was stunned.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Over a month... NEW BLOG
For the 3 of you that check out this blog, I have moved on. Why, you ask? Well, for the most part, because I am no longer in Rome! Therefore, C-RuleinRome.blogspot.com has become a lie, not purposeful, but there was need for change. So the-grande-adventure.blogspot.com has been born. It will be much more regular because my internship right now is writing with Relevant Magazine in Orlando, FL. Which is to say I am writing a lot more. Head over there. Thanks
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Random Thoughts
It has been over a month since I last wrote and by now most of you could probably care less about what I write... sorry for dropping the ball. I spent most of today reorganizing my room and trying to throw out a lot of junk. Some were just little scraps of paper with quotes or thoughts I had scribbled down. I thought I would share them with you. Enjoy
From 2007 at Miami University:
"Life is a symphony. We all play an important role, even if we dont know it. Most of the time, we are a discordant noise, a jumble of sounds. But when even clusters, small pockets, start listening and following the conductor, beautiful music arises. Just think if everyone was watching and following him."
"The truly humble are never embarrassed."
"Be at a place of absolute and complete abandonment. It is the difference between the holy and the common."
And last but not least, some great quote I found scribbled down from living in a house with four other guys:
"I must have been one of those gifted childs..." Brent
"This was supposed to be a guys weekend and you inviting that little Yeti!?" Ben, to Brent, referring to Brent's girlfriend.
"If you dont guarantee me at least a C, you are in trouble." Brad, as he was attempting to copy someones work.
From 2007 at Miami University:
"Life is a symphony. We all play an important role, even if we dont know it. Most of the time, we are a discordant noise, a jumble of sounds. But when even clusters, small pockets, start listening and following the conductor, beautiful music arises. Just think if everyone was watching and following him."
"The truly humble are never embarrassed."
"Be at a place of absolute and complete abandonment. It is the difference between the holy and the common."
And last but not least, some great quote I found scribbled down from living in a house with four other guys:
"I must have been one of those gifted childs..." Brent
"This was supposed to be a guys weekend and you inviting that little Yeti!?" Ben, to Brent, referring to Brent's girlfriend.
"If you dont guarantee me at least a C, you are in trouble." Brad, as he was attempting to copy someones work.
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Private Symphony
This is still a work in progress, but I thought I would share it with you all...
His suit was patched at the elbows, a small hole in the shoulder and when you stood close to him, you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a couple days. A worn out suit for a worn out man. The creases on his face, the tanned leather lines, spoke of more experiences than 45 years should have. It spoke a journeys and trials that the others would never know of. Not even the men that he shared a train stoop knew his story. They just knew he slept with the violin, got up and went to work on the Metro every day.
So he picked up his bow and put it to his worn out violin. Cracked in the front, varnish peeling, and scuffed on the edges, the instrument looked as if it had as many journeys as the man playing it. The stories it could have told would have filled many a Moleskin, stories that Steinbeck would have loved to tell of hardship and real people.
With the first draw, the man’s eyes closed and he was lost. The music was not the typical Godfather theme song nor 35 second ditty that would impress in the time between stops, leaving enough time to collect a little change. No, this was classical, Beethoven and Brahms, music for mahogany paneled halls, not metal Metro cars. And as this man’s eyes remained closed, in his mind he saw it.
The Metro, with its graffiti painted walls and crowded mass of humanity, became his concert hall. The iron bars that people clung to became gleaming brass banisters. The plastic seats with busy commuters and tourists because plush cushioned rows of high class concert-goers. The rubber lined floors became polished wooden floors. Shoes polished to a military shine, tuxedo crisp from the cleaners, the man stood a little straighter as he stepped forward to take the lead.
No longer was he playing a beat-up violin but a 1765 Stradivarius, on loan from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, whose every fiber vibrated with class, borrowed dignity from a rich source. And though he was playing alone, behind the squeezed eyes and passionate playing, an orchestra swelled in his private symphony.
The others on the Metro noticed it. Some sat at straighter, pressing pause on their iPod to head the magic. A few even dared to openly gawk at the man, surprised that he didn’t even start with the typical, “Buon giorno tutti.” One man didn’t get off at the next stop, though he should have. Another wondered what he could have created if he stuck with his dream of being a concert pianist. But their reactions didn’t matter to the man.
Nor did the change he should have received. Ignored was the cup in his jacket pocket. There was something more important than money that was being exchanged. It was a gift from one to another. When he finished, the Metro stopped at suddenly as he started, as if the music was propelling it along and it no longer could go forward without it. It jolted the man and he stumbled back into reality. His eyes opened, sad eyes that spoke of past loves and performances.
Not a word was said. His hand reached back for the change cup in his jacket pocket. He began to walk up the car, still not saying a word as people fished into their pocket for change to give him, giving that robbed him of his dignity. It wasn’t meant to be like this, he thought. A hand reached out and placed a bill into the cup. He looked to find the face of a young, bearded man.
“Grazie.”
The Private Symphony
Scuffed, thrice-repaired shoes showed the mileage he had put on them. From a distance, he maintained a quiet dignity and could have passed for just another passenger. But he wasn’t. The beat-up violin showed that. The creased Coca-Cola cup that jingled with change any time the Metro car rocked was a dead giveaway. So he stepped on the car yet again and picked up the bow.His suit was patched at the elbows, a small hole in the shoulder and when you stood close to him, you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a couple days. A worn out suit for a worn out man. The creases on his face, the tanned leather lines, spoke of more experiences than 45 years should have. It spoke a journeys and trials that the others would never know of. Not even the men that he shared a train stoop knew his story. They just knew he slept with the violin, got up and went to work on the Metro every day.
So he picked up his bow and put it to his worn out violin. Cracked in the front, varnish peeling, and scuffed on the edges, the instrument looked as if it had as many journeys as the man playing it. The stories it could have told would have filled many a Moleskin, stories that Steinbeck would have loved to tell of hardship and real people.
With the first draw, the man’s eyes closed and he was lost. The music was not the typical Godfather theme song nor 35 second ditty that would impress in the time between stops, leaving enough time to collect a little change. No, this was classical, Beethoven and Brahms, music for mahogany paneled halls, not metal Metro cars. And as this man’s eyes remained closed, in his mind he saw it.
The Metro, with its graffiti painted walls and crowded mass of humanity, became his concert hall. The iron bars that people clung to became gleaming brass banisters. The plastic seats with busy commuters and tourists because plush cushioned rows of high class concert-goers. The rubber lined floors became polished wooden floors. Shoes polished to a military shine, tuxedo crisp from the cleaners, the man stood a little straighter as he stepped forward to take the lead.
No longer was he playing a beat-up violin but a 1765 Stradivarius, on loan from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, whose every fiber vibrated with class, borrowed dignity from a rich source. And though he was playing alone, behind the squeezed eyes and passionate playing, an orchestra swelled in his private symphony.
The others on the Metro noticed it. Some sat at straighter, pressing pause on their iPod to head the magic. A few even dared to openly gawk at the man, surprised that he didn’t even start with the typical, “Buon giorno tutti.” One man didn’t get off at the next stop, though he should have. Another wondered what he could have created if he stuck with his dream of being a concert pianist. But their reactions didn’t matter to the man.
Nor did the change he should have received. Ignored was the cup in his jacket pocket. There was something more important than money that was being exchanged. It was a gift from one to another. When he finished, the Metro stopped at suddenly as he started, as if the music was propelling it along and it no longer could go forward without it. It jolted the man and he stumbled back into reality. His eyes opened, sad eyes that spoke of past loves and performances.
Not a word was said. His hand reached back for the change cup in his jacket pocket. He began to walk up the car, still not saying a word as people fished into their pocket for change to give him, giving that robbed him of his dignity. It wasn’t meant to be like this, he thought. A hand reached out and placed a bill into the cup. He looked to find the face of a young, bearded man.
“Grazie.”
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Happy Fathers Day
President Obama, I applaud this article. Thanks for not only being a politician but also being a person, for being a father. Happy Fathers Day to all those fathers out there who had the guts to stick around, to love their kids, to raise them well. Dad, you are top notch. I love you. Thanks for being not only physically present but always emotionally present. Thanks for teaching me about Jesus. Thanks for caring about what I am doing and for constantly praying for me.
I havent done this in a long time. So FREE MUSIC FOR YOU. I used to do something called Free Music Friday and I have just gotten swampted. But the return is a free live album, courtesy of our British friends COLDPLAY! Just click on the link, go to their website, and click on Free Download Left Right Left Right (the name of the free live album). It is good stuff.
And to make up to you the fact that I havent written sooner, here is another free download! This one is an album from a band called The Damnwells. I dig their sound and it is FREE so what do you have to lose?
As for me, more will be written about changes, about wrapping up The Italian Grande Adventure TOMORROW. So check back soon!
I havent done this in a long time. So FREE MUSIC FOR YOU. I used to do something called Free Music Friday and I have just gotten swampted. But the return is a free live album, courtesy of our British friends COLDPLAY! Just click on the link, go to their website, and click on Free Download Left Right Left Right (the name of the free live album). It is good stuff.
And to make up to you the fact that I havent written sooner, here is another free download! This one is an album from a band called The Damnwells. I dig their sound and it is FREE so what do you have to lose?
As for me, more will be written about changes, about wrapping up The Italian Grande Adventure TOMORROW. So check back soon!
Monday, June 8, 2009
The Countdown: Day 25
which you can listen to by clicking the link and going to the 7th cd in the list
My sports hero is David Robinson, who played for the San Antonio Spurs. The beautiful thing about his career is he knew when it was time to retire and declared it before the season. So his entire last season was a lot like a celebration parade for an illustrious career. And he finished it by winning a Championship, like the Champion he is and was. Why do I say all this? Well my STINT career here in Rome, Italy is coming to a close and I know it. I have no championship to win but "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Phil 3:13-14)In celebration of that, of only 3 and 1/2 weeks left in this Grande Adventure of Roma Italia, I would like to fill you in first on a day by day of this week.. well probably every other day to be honest. And then celebrate Sunday by posting a short story I wrote earlier this year. So here I am, Monday winding to a close, and I have lived a full day. Waking up at 7:30, I wanted to spend some time with God before my morning meeting to evaluate the year with the two other members of my missional team. However Rome was Rome, and I had to settle for some prayer time as I waited for a bus... and waited... and waited. What should have been a 25 minute commute turned into a 50 minute commute and I got there 5 minutes before our meeting was to start.
The meeting went well, good honest evaluation is not always easy but is good for the soul. As past failure is exposed to the light, their power is stripped and the light of God's truth and how he has redeemed even our failures shines through. Hopefully we will learn and move on and pass along that learning to help others learn from our mistakes and successes. We swung by my favorite kebab/pizza place, Pizza Design, on the way to campus and I said hey to Hassan as he hooked me up with some killer pizza. Yes, this it Italy and we eat a lot of pizza.
La Sapienza, 2nd largest university in the world
Campus time was especially sweet for me today as I got to see some old friends. Initially we were meeting with the american Summer Project students that are here hanging out with us, but I had to duck out and plan a beach outreach with The Dueck. Returning briefly to the SP students, I was once again drawn away seeing David from the Grass, an old friend that I havent seen since December. Connecting with him was good but he is still very much David from the Grass, kind and gentle and with a spirituality that is about as solid as the wind blowing... you can feel it but it isnt really based in anything concrete, so it goes wherever it pleases. I had to take off and make some phone calls to schedule physical therapy for my healing left arm, but it was good to see him.
La Sapienza, 2nd largest university in the world
Me and Giovanni in London in JanuaryAfter campus, I hit up the grocery and then to some good talk time with The Dueck, learning from his wisdom and the lessons that God has been teaching him. His parting words? "Seek God. Really seek him this week, not just to fill in your quiet time quota, but to seek God." Good advice. Simple yet profound. Then I cooked for me and Brian, including an amazing steak I bought as a special treat. Emails, calls to Amanda my lovely and amazing girlfriend, and enjoying music filled out the day. So there it is, Monday, more than you ever wanted to know... but a day in the life.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
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