I just found out that one of my favorite bands, Armor For Sleep, broke up a week ago.

I read this while listening to them, too-how ironic.

"What To Do When You Are Dead", their sophomore album, is one of the best concept albums-one of the best albums period-thatI've ever heard. It's powerful, poignant, and beautifully done. It's a story about a man, and what happens after he dies. The first song is his suicide, and the thoughts and emotions that run through his mind. The second song is his realization that the afterlife isn't what he expected; he can't outrun his pain like he expected to. The rest of the album follows him as he follows the woman he loves; she can neither see nor hear his ghost, but talks to him. He first is comforted by the fact that she still loves him, then despairs in the fact that she'll one day move on. One of the most powerful points in the album is when he says he'll be around her, just keeping watch over her, until she dies: "About 50 years left of this waiting around."

That gives me chills. He loves this girl so much that he'll dutifully follow her, despite the new men that will come into her life, despite the fact that her love will eventually fade, until she's gone. He won't move on to whatever comes after this, because it's not right without her. "I came down here to tell you: It rains in Heaven all day long. I wanna find you so bad, and let you know I'm miserable up here without you."

When I just sit and listen to this album in its entirety, I cry. Not always, but it's happened on several occasions. It's made me realize two things: 1) I hope and pray that I'll be lucky enough to find someone who loves me that much, and 2) If & when I lose my significant other to death, I will never again be able to listen to any of these songs. Ever. They're that powerful, and I would be so scared of them being there in spirit and not being able to hear them.

It's a beautiful work of art, and has been on my favorites list ever since I bought it four years ago.

So, in closing, thank you, Armor For Sleep, for the amazing music. I will miss you, but at least you've left something great for us to remember you guys. <3333

Today....second round.

He called today.

He's still with her, and that still means next to nothing to me.

I still love him.

He's still my best friend. He's still the weird boy from Kansas I met in ninth grade, the only one who loved MCR as much as me, the wild, hyper, happy-go-lucky driver. The bad-yet-good driver, the funniest joker,the best shoulder in the world to cry on. And he still knows who I am. He hasn't forgotten me, and I haven't given up on him.

His message was the first thing I saw when I woke up this morning. And I have decided that I will not let him fade away again. I read a quote today that said; "Let no one who loves be unhappy....even love unreturned has its rainbow."--J.M. Barrie

So, if the world turns out to be less perfect than a fairytale, I vow to still be there for him. Things happen-life happens-and you don't always get what you want. She gets him? Okay. I can live with that. She makes him happy, and if I begrudge him happiness I shame the very word "friend". Even if I can't have him, how lucky am I just to have him in my life?

I'm not sure if or when I'll ever let him go, but I know that I will be the best friend to him that he is to me; I'll be the best shoulder to cry on, his hyper, happy-go-lucky counterpart, his adventure buddy. Not being with him doesn't equal total unhappiness.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I will try. I will try so, SO hard to believe that. I will cry when I need to, laugh when I want to, and I'll be damned if I can't be just as important to him as her.

But I am so afraid.

Say Anything About God

I just finished reading a Say Anything article in the November issue of AP.

I loved it.

It was pretty small--about a page and a third, if you take the pictures out--but it said a lot. It touched on how Max Bemis, mouthpiece and leader for the band, has gone through various shitty struggles, like drug problems, public meltdowns (he spat in peoples' food at a restaurant in NYC), being hospitalized for bipolar disorder, and finally getting out of an awful, soul-sucking three year long relationship to reveal that he's over all that and in a better place.

The best part? He totally gave a shout-out to God. He said one of the coolest quotes about God's love and dear friends/family's love I've ever heard:

"At this point in my life, as much as I still can get my feelings hurt, I've learned [to recognize] the people who love me. I love myself and God's love [for] me, so I don't really need every single person to love me."

Amen, Max.

The first reason I thought this was so cool is because he's gone from not believing at all to realizing that God does exist, and He does love everyone. The second is because for the past few years, the only openly spiritual people who were constantly talking about God were Underoath.

Now, I like Underoath's music, and I respect the fact that they're open about their beliefs, but that's where my admiration and respect end. They are horribly holier-than-thou in their attitudes, going so far as to completely turning their backs on a band member when he had a serious cocaine problem and needed help. They just left him in complete darkness. I was horrified when I read that. WWJD? Well, he sure as hell wouldn't have left anyone, much less a close friend, alone in their most desperate time of need. The most appalling part of that article was that NO ONE showed any sign of thinking their reaction to his drug use was disgusting, unacceptable, and the most un-Christian behavior they could have possibly displayed.

So the fact that someone whom I've always admired and thought was so cool is open and adamant about his beliefs, while still being open minded, is awesome. He also said something else near the end of the article about how he feels he should live:

"I have better things to do with my time than to be the typical tortured artist. There are political systems and sociological mechanisms that could literally destroy this earth. My grandkids could be dead from us not taking care of this world and of each other. If I'm going to be trying to live this stupid, kvetching life, it's a waste of time. It's a waste of what God gave me."

So that's 2 God shout-outs and 0 put-downs. That, ladies and gents, is how I prefer my heroes to act; like actual heroes.

So, Mr. Bemis: you rule, God loves you, and I'm even more of a superfan than before. Keep kicking ass and living life.

Today.

Today I looked at pictures of a very dear friend of mine. This person was my one best friends, always understanding, always there for me, always willing to listen.

Until, that is, they decided that their new get-drunk friends were more worth their time than me. They called me less often than they used to, and visits were even more scarce. But the funny thing is, no matter how long it took them to call me back, or visit me, or be remotely present in my life, I could never stay mad. Never. I could be completely angry and upset, and vow to let them have it when I next saw them, and be absolutely fuming for days; then, they would show up on my doorstep and suddenly, every bad feeling would just...go away. The second I saw them, I was happy. I completely forgot about everything I had stored away to tell them, like how I hated that I felt forgotten, that I felt unworthy of my best friend's time, that I hated the glimpse I had of who they were becoming. They even forgot about the concert they promised to take me to-I still have the tickets-and even so, I couldn't bring myself to mar the time I had with them, however fleeting.

It took me a while to figure out why I could never do it, why I could never tell them how much I wished they hadn't changed.

Then one day, I finally got it. I had fallen in love with my best friend.

I had to say it aloud for it to finally register, but it did. I was so joyful every time he came around, I completely wrote off every shitty thing he did, I made excuses for him time and time again. Any other friend I would have confronted by that point, but no this one.

Then, as ironically and tragically as a Shakespeare story, my best friend changed. Not two weeks after I realized I loved him, he completely changed. He started to blow off the people he'd been blowing me off with for even scummier people. His lifestyle, goals, even his outlook on life changed.

And, to top it off, he'd found, not just a girl, but a girl he loved. And slept with, and partied with, and blew me and everybody else off with.

So, while I was mustering up the courage to tell him how I felt, he told me about how amazing this scumbag girlfriend who drinks and does drugs and lives in a shitty part of town is.

I had to hear every sordid detail of their relationship, wishing I was her and realizing that there was no way I could possibly have a smidgen of what I want.

He hasn't called me since the beginning of June, and he hasn't been the best friend he used to be since last December. And you know what?

I realized today that, despite everything-how shitty a friend he's been, how heartbroken he's made me, how he's not the person I used to know, I still love him. I still love him, still hate who he's with, and I still hate that I'm not her.

All the shit I've been through, and I'm still making excuses for him.

....And there's not a day where I don't wish he'd call.

"I Miss You"

This summer, someone I'd grown up with in church since the age of three died at the age of 19. His name was Matt Butler. He was murdered. I almost put up the entire story of how he died and what happened, etc, but that's not why I started to write this. A thought occurred to me today, and I don't want that thought to turn into an angry lashing-out.

At Matt's funeral, the church was so packed that only a limited number of people could be in the actual sanctuary-most people were in the fellowship hall or outside; they hooked up speakers so that we could hear the eulogy. Sadly, I didn't know Matt very well-I couldn't really call him anything more than a peer. Now, looking back at the lives he touched, the people who loved him, I wish I were able to call him a friend.

The realization that hit me today came about when my iPod was on shuffle-the song "I Miss You" by Incubus came on. They played that song at Matt's funeral, after the hearse drove away and people were leaving. My friend and I were looking at the flowers and posters of Matt, and I think that, for the rest of my life, every time I hear this song I will picture the beautiful church interior, with the flowers and sunlight, and the irony of the beauty tangled with loss. I may not always feel sad when I hear it....then again, I may.

But I realized, as I heard the words "I miss you," that this was sort of a preparation for when I lose a good friend. When I heard Matt had died, I was shocked, because he was so young, and sad, because he was a good person, but not completely devastated, as I didn't know him so well. Now I realize that's not the only thing to take in. What I needed to see-what took me a while-is that someday I'll be the best friend delivering the eulogy at a dear friend's funeral. I will break down when I hear the news. I will be the one with the huge hole in my heart, and my life.

As a Christian, I know that I'll see Matt again. The song speaks the truth-"I know I'll see you again, whether far or soon." On the sidewalk at Matt's memorial, I wrote, "See you, okay?" because I will. Someday. I'll finally be able to call him my friend, and not regret not getting to know him more. For now, I just have the picture in my head of him laughing, and the knowledge that cherishing the time you have and living it to the fullest, with as much love as you can, is the only way to truly live.

"If I die tomorrow, it'll be okay, because I'll have lived life to the fullest."-Matt Butler

New Home

It's pretty amazing that, after roughly thirteen years of yearning to live in the City, San Francisco, I'm finally here. Not for a visit, but to actually live and eat and sleep and explore. It's the coolest feeling to be able to walk down the street and think, "This is my home. I live here." And I do, finally-I live amongst the sirens and yells and streets and huge mesh of people, both tourists and residents. And to see the City in the morning is something I've never seen before; the light is coming from a totally different direction, and the cadence is completely different. It's spectacular.