Tonight, I’m going to a bluegrass concert. It’s Halloween, so I’ve been thinking about what kind of costume to wear. Preferably, I want something cheap, but something subtle and amazing. In the end, I’ve decided to go as a geek masquerading as an emo kid with punk tendencies and poor fashion sensibilities.

I had an easy time crafting the costume. I’m wearing green corduroy pants, a black t-shirt proudly stating “devianT” (cross-shaped t), a pair of torn, black, mesh shoes, and my usual black, retro glasses (a la Billy Holiday).

I’m trying to think of some way to spice it up more, but I’m seriously at a loss. And I don’t have time to go buy blue hair-dye ’cause the show is in 40 minutes. Speaking of which, gotta go…

Update: I went to the place. Walked in, looked around, and heard no bluegrass. Then I left ’cause I thought it must’ve been a different night. Got home, checked my email, it was that night. I wasn’t familiar with the venue so somehow I missed the fact it had a backroom and I was dumbass enough not to ask somebody there.

Categories: Life

“I’m thinking of what Sarah said;” what are you thinking about?

Vicarious trauma. “Trauma experienced or realized through imaginative or sympathetic participation in the experience of another.”

In many ways, I wonder if this can be the worst kind of trauma. When you’re going through it yourself, you can blame yourself, you can blame whoever caused it to happen, you can fight on through the utterly horrible days and swear it can be overcome. Any number of hopes or false hopes can be guiding lights through a graveyard of ships who haven’t made it where you’re trying to go.

When another person is the one in the tough situation and you’re watching, what light can be shone? What hope can be given? Hope cannot be given or lent. For hope to have any effectiveness, it must be a person’s own hope. If I hold my hope high, its rays won’t provide any direction past fears you see and I cannot. It must be your own. I will do all I can to build you a lamp, but it won’t matter if you can’t use it.

I am not a skilled lampmaker.

Men and women each day and night crash their vessels and bruise their bones against rocks jutting out of the seas they live upon. And I listen. I hear the echos of their disasters as they’re jotted down and filed away in a vault full of foul times and shunned memories.

“I’m thinking of what Sarah said. ‘Love is watching someone die.’”

“Who’s gonna watch you die?” And who’s gonna watch the loveless?

Not I, for I cannot watch them all.

Categories: Life

I went to a wedding this weekend. Honestly, I quite enjoyed it. It’s one of the better weddings I’ve been to. I think my favorite part was the pastor’s British accent. (The pastor is the bride’s brother — they’re both originally from Britain. )

Everything about the wedding exuded beauty. The elegance stemmed not from flashy glamouristic ploys, but from a simple charm. The one thing that caught my eye the most was how overjoyed and shamelessly happy the bride and groom were. I saw no signs of nervousness, stress, or standoffishness. They interacted with the myself and the other wedding guests as I might have expected on any day I spent together with them in college.

I remember when they first met. Later, I lived with the groom for two months while the relationship continued growing and growing until they finally started dating. And now they’re married. It’s quite a joy to see a relationship begin, and even more awesome to see it develop into a marriage.

M & A, I wish you both much luck in your newly married life. Cheers!

Categories: Life

I have survived the first night. I’m insanely tired though. There’s something odd about driving to the work in complete darkness and subsequently returning home while the sun is rising. Quite odd, indeed. I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through the night without without my punk/emo/whatevercore music from idobi radio. Every time I hear “Ohio is for Lovers” I want to sing aloud and scream along. Seems out of place in a work environment, but whatever helps ya focus, right? Speaking of focus, I’m losing it, so I’m gonna head to bed real quick here. G’night. Or should it be g’day?!?

Categories: Music, Work
Tags: Hawthorne Heights

Greetings, visitors. Something new, something unbelievable has come to pass. You can now get to the site through the address http://anwanore.com/! This wild inovation will bring unprecedented change. Now, instead of remembering one long, difficult web address, you instead only need to remember one short, difficult web address.

Oh, and for those of you who don’t actually know me or my email address, you can send emails to erundur at anwanore dot com. (If you have my other addresses, ignore this one.)

As you’ll notice, all anwanore.com does at this point is forward to this address. I’m looking towards getting it set up on its own site/server, but hosting ain’t cheap and I’ve been realizing more lately how much financial independence can suck when you’re not paid insanely well. So for the time being, this will have to do. If you know of any good hosting deals, please let me know. Thanks!

Update: Also available for your perusal, I’ve set up a music page: The Music: It Will Be Heard. To begin with, it lists the ten most recent songs I’ve listened to (via AudioScrobbler), recommends my preferred music players, and provides you with the most recent headlines from AbsolutePunk and PureVolume: Backstage.

Categories: Life