I've moved...

I am now blogging here.
http://johnsallen.wordpress.com/


When I actually get a moment to document the little voices in my head.

Stop on by sometime.

"There are ghosts from my past who own more of my soul than I thought I had given away..."

I hate JohnAllen.

Maybe hate is a strong word. I don't care for him too much at times.

When I was in the 7th grade, Katie Sedgewick (how in the world do you remember the name of some random girl you haven't heard a peep out of in 20 years is beyond me) started calling me "JohnAllen," like it was all one word.

I remember finding it really odd, but it stuck. For over 20 years, everywhere I go, they are people who call me to this day, "JohnAllen," all one word. And after 32 years of life, I don't like him too much.

See it was somewhere along that time that I also started to "come out of my shell" as they say. Up until then, I was the quiet shy kid in the corner who kept to himself and never said much except to those in his immediate two foot radius.

The fact that most of you reading that last sentence laughed out loud, proves my point before I even started making it.

JohnAllen is insecure and afraid. He covers that up with a bunch of puffing-his-chest-out knowledge and arrogance.

The guy is soft and masquerades as something completely different. Like if I act strong and look strong, than no one will see how sad that guy is.

I've spent the better part of those last 20-30 years trying way too hard to fit in and be somebody. And in the process, I've crippled all of my true self. My ease in making friends is real and a true blessing, except when I overdue it to impress those folks and then I find that making friends and keeping them is a whole 'nutha issue.

The worst damage of this whole John thing is the missed opportunities. I used to play basketball in this rec league and I was so worried about making a good impression on my peers, that I completely forgot how to relax and just have a good time.

I spent the first 5 years I was a Christian desperately trying to get my two best friends to give me some type of gold star as a sign that I was doing it right, which is totally missing the point of this whole Savior concept.

I used to work with a guy who, at least 5 times a week for six years, I basically needed him to tell me if I was doing a good job or not.

Even now in my marriage I have these moments where I can go days at a time and drive my wife nuts with a cavalcade of pleas for her approval.

It's prison and the only thing keeping me there is me.

Maybe life is like that for all of us in some capacity. There's some perceived limitation, some internal slight that keeps us from moving forward or growing. We doubt. We forget. We lose hope. And it's enough to kill us.

I can go down the line and show you how I built my chains and bound myself and through my purpose into prison. I can point out the hurt others caused or the things that didn't go my way. Every little slight. Every little embarrassment. But in the end, I am the one who turned myself in. I'm the one who locked myself up and seemingly through away the key.

And what's funny is, I am not lacking for support to change all this. My wife, my family, my friends have never believed more in me and have done all they can to help me break free. But only I can do the rest.

Some of the things my father said or did led to my imprisonment. Mind you I made the choice to be captive, but those things did have an impact. He was affected by his father. My grandfather by his father. This thing could go all the way back to Adam for all I know.

We all have these things. I can tell you what holds my wife back. Or my mom. Or my dad. But none of us can change anything for each other. We can only encourage. The real key to unlock ourselves rest solely in us and our willingness to see ourselves through God's eyes. To see us how He sees us. I was humbled by this thought a few times this week, but none so much as a seemingly normal drive to church on Easter Sunday.

In short, Chris Tomlin has a song called Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)." Driving 64 East to church the family was enjoying an unscheduled worship service with Kara, Jake & I all singing along. The highlight for me was to hear, my almost 4 yr old little guy shouting Tomlin's chorus from the backseat.

"My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy rains

Unending love, amazing grace..."

And he's SHOUTING it. So I sit there with this smile on my face, listening to this little dude sing and I start to hear it. They way God's spoke to me only a handful of times in my life (most notably the day Jake was born):

Listen to him. He's not a prisoner to himself. He never has to be. He can be free of all those doubts and anxieties and insecurities that hold you. He's free John and will be as long as he knows Me. You should be to. It doesn't matter how it was before. I love you. I care for you. You are so much more to Me than you are letting yourself be. Don't do it. Don't choose doubt when I believe in you. Believe. See what I see. I know it's hard, but you are more than all of this. You are more than the version of yourself you see. You are Mine. Don't be free for a moment in a quiet time. Be free in a moment that lasts a lifetime.

I cried and tried to hide it from my boy. After years and generations of both sides of my family being bonded in guilt and doubt or even false arrogance and confidence, here was my boy exalting a freedom he knows better than I do. The son teaching the father.

Slowly these shackles have loosened and there's still more to go. I want to see this whole thing as He sees it. Not really sure if I am capable of handling something that big, but I wanna try.

And I'm gonna start with setting JohnAllen loose-even if it takes me another 30 years to do it.

JohnAllen has got to go. Its a whole lot easier just being husband, dad, son or brother.

"You're gonna need a shot of vit-a-min E/By the time you're finished with me..."

(or Adventures in Child Rearing Vol. 37)

The once intentionally/now unintentionally funny comic Greg Behrendt does a treee-mendous routine on trying to be "cool" in front of your kids. He had a theory-later admitting it's a sad one-to show his daughters how cool he is. In short he thought that if he started early on and prevented them from hearing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider," Twinkle Twinkle," and the like, he could simultaneously turn their impressionable ears to The Beatles, Zeppelin, and other all time favorites and by the tame they hit their teens, they would be blessed to have an old man who was so cool. He drew a handful of conclusions. My favorites of which are:

1. "What was I thinking? Even I don't like to listen to Sabbath in the dark."
and
2. "Toddlers love the 'Itsy Bitsy Spider.' It's their 'Free Bird.' "

Priceless. And at the same time pretty sad. Yet, I can't mock him for this. I'll save that for his masquerading as some pseudo-rocker type who in the last 5 years, has managed to write a dating-advice book for women, become host of his own Oprah genuflecting talk show and was a writer for Sex & The City. Joan Jett is more of a man than Greg Behrendt at times.

And while I would love to mock him for the insecure/desperate-to-like-me effort that is his approach to children's music, I can't. It would be the ultimate pot calling the kettle black. Thanks to my own influence, if my son had a mix-tape (which he may have soon) of non-kiddie music fare, it would look a little like this.

Bon Jovi/Wanted Dead or Alive (Woody Ridin' Bullseye as you may recall)
Queen/We Will Rock You & We Are The Champions
Smash Mouth/All Star (thanks Shrek)
Rod Stewart/Hot Legs
Delirious/I Could Sing Of Your Love Forever
Rich Mullins/Step By Step
Family Force 5/Luv Addict
ACDC/Back In Black
Billy Squier/The Stroke
Journey/Lights
Rick Springfield/I've Done Everything For You
Jimmy Eat World/Let It Happen
Lipps Inc/Funky Town (on you again Ogre!)
Chris Tomlin/Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)
The Beatles/Come Together
The Theme From Mr. Ed
etc., etc., etc.

For the most part the whole thing is kind of harmless. Every parent passes on music to their kids and that's perfectly natural. I have wondered though at times what a soon-to-be 4 year old think some of these songs are about (other than he already established ideas on Bon Jovi and of course the fairly obvious Mr. Ed).

Tonight I may have gotten an answer. After battling colds all week (Aaron & Kara are still sick, Jake not so much), we got an invite to dinner with my dad, his wife and his mother-in-law. As any of you who have seen my appetite in action, I am not one to pass up a free meal and the boys & I were happy to oblige.

We headed over to Old Chicago, which would have been great if nothing else than Jake was able to eat what all the adults were having (appetizers, pizza) and Aaron was able to get something off the kiddie menu.

Now to those of you without children this seems like the most insignificant boring thing, but trust me. When you have children few things will have more value to you than your kids being able to "eat what everyone else is eating."

As I mentioned, we ordered appetizers. Old Chicago has an appetizer sampler that we ordered without any realization of how monstrous it was. Two types of wings, fried cheese, garlic bread, chicken tenders, broccoli, carrot sticks, celery and cucumber slices-all served on a tray the size of a manhole cover.

About halfway through his cheese stick or chicken tender, Jake began to eyeball the other options saw daddy reaching for the BBQ chicken drumettes (can't be a wing if its a leg, right).

He then asked his Papaw is he could have "some hot legs."

That's when it hit me. All this time, he thinks that song is about chicken legs.

Who's that knockin' on my door?
(Domino's? Pizza Hut? Some other wing delivery establishment?)
Gotta be a quarter til 4
Is that you again, comin' round for more?
(these wings are quite tasty. Might I sample another?)...

I love ya honey!

(honey BBQ of course)

"It's the final countdown..."

I heard a story once about how Wal-Mart figured out that the could cut the price of certain items in the "Health & Beauty" department by simply convincing vendors like Proctor & Gamble and Johnson & Johnson to eliminate unecessary packaging on their products. If a bottle of Tylenol came in a bottle with a protective seal and a child proof cap, then there was no additional need for a cardbox to keep it in.

This was landmark for Wally World, as they were able to cut cost from the vendor, lower prices to their consumer and increase their sales on these items. By just gutting 5 cents on their costs for a product, they turned it into tens of millions of dollars to their bottom line. A brilliant move where everybody wins. Vendors sell more. Wal-Mart sells more. Consumers pay less. Everybody wins. Well, almost everybody.

If you happened to work on an assembly line in some factory making cardboard boxes, you might be out of a job at worst. At the very least you would see substantial company losses in the number of little cardboard boxes you made.

This is the nature of development and it happens all the time. It's never quite happened at the pace is it now, at least not since the industrial revolution.

The same is obviously true for music. For some the recent Telegraph (U.K.) report on Apple and its plans for the iPod are a revelation/revolution that could change the face of music. For others it is a foreshadowing of a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy that could ultimately keep the music industry in financial bondage for decades to come.

In short, Apple is looking at selling you an iPod that would allow you, for either a fixed rate or a monthly fee, access to the over six million songs for sale on Itunes. Unlimited access for one low price. Nokia as you can read is already pushing the same idea.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2008/03/19/nipod119.xml

Think about it. You right Steve Jobs one check and you get music for life. As long as that units a workin', you're the king of downloads. Actually sounds a little cool doesn't it?

But in an industry that less than half of the total music exchanged last year was paid for, the idea of even less music paid for is cancerous. I appreciate Apple's desire for growth and it has ultimately been a friend to the music business. Unfortunately, it's been an unwitting Dr Kevorkian, assisting in the killing off of the friend.

I know I rant about this type of stuff a lot lately, but I honestly feel a lot of us don't think about this stuff and the consequences it brings.

The music business being wrought with hypocrisy is not a new thing. Viacom stills dare to call a network, Music Television when it hardly plays any music. Viacom also started a "Save The Music" foundation and still had the gall to revive the careers of Flavor Flav & Bret Michaels. Hypocrisy is the norm is music.

This time however, the insatiable gluttony of us all (myself included) and new partners like cellphone companies and Apple, might accidentally kill the whole thing.

Big wheels keep on turnin'/carry me home to see my kin...

Random Musings from the road:

* I love Phil Collins as much as the next guy, but is there anything less necessary than a instrumental-Muzak-Kenny G version of a "One More Night?" Is such a thing even necessary? Look guys I like the song, but that vocal is just too "hard rock" for the Birmingham Airport. Do you got anything more subdued? Maybe a coma?

* There is no one more uncomfortable in an airport right now than the guy in the turban flying to Phoenix @ the next gate over. I'm 50 yds from him and every time he walks somewhere 30 pairs of eyes follow him. Apparently this includes mine. The only way his life would be easier is if he was wearing an "I'm Not Al Queda" T-Shirt.

* Alabama is the unwritten aviation capitol of the world. After years of watching OH & NC duke it out for flight supremacy, I feel the underdog from the south may be jockeying for the lead. Think about it, the state brings you Space Camp (Huntsville) and the first African American fighter pilots (the Tuskegee Airmen). All of which pale in comparison to the real reason AL is making its move up the ranks. At any given time on any given random Bama road (usually in L.A. - Lower Alabama), you can look up ahead and see it peeking out of the trees around the next turn. At first you think, the military has gone nuts and is invading HWY 231, until you realize, no its just a monument. They're all over. Helicopters, fighter jets, Cessna, everything. Just a seemingly endless collection of random aircraft, positioned to look in mid-flight, right there next to the Stuckey's. Take that Buckeyes! In your face Carolina!

* Speaking of 231, I offer this little roadside marker:

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tips/getAttraction.php?tip_AttractionNo==16

For whatever reason, our friends at Roadside America are extremely protective of this rare photo, the only one Google offered. Its kitschy, but it did afford me the opportunity to Google the phrase "giant metal chicken."

As an aside, look down the page at the other "nearby offbeat places." While I did visit Dothan, Enterprise and Montgomery all this week, sadly of the three I have only seen the Boll Weevil monument. Had I known Hank Williams had an AstroTurf grave site, I probably would have hunted it down.

* I actually got the same rental car this week that I had a few weeks ago. Not just same model (Pontiac G6 GT) or color (white w/ black pleather interior), but the exact same car (Clayton, GA plates). Believe it or not this is the second time in a year this has happened to me. Both times with a Pontiac (the other time was a Grand Prix for those scoring at home). I rest my case on me spending to much time on the road.

* On a slightly more important note: Mobile, Selma, Montgomery, Birmingham. Alabama has more "black history" post slavery than any state in the US. I was raised with a tremendous appreciation for the struggles of these men and women and am particularly moved by their history. I use the term "black history" in quotes, because I think it is a misnomer. This is American history. This week I sat at the end of that same runway those brave Tuskegee Airmen flew. I drove the bridge from Selma to Montgomery those so many marched across. I stood on the steps of the same church that Dr. King preached on. But you know, more than anything two things struck me. One, when you look at it, it is amazing how much of that "movement," that uprising was founded and built upon the backs of men & women of faith. On the church. The body of Christ. And the second thing that struck me is how far this nation has come towards racial equality and yet how far we have to go. We don't see the violence that we used to in this country. Those who see hatred in racial difference are the minority, but we still aren't there yet. Were Malcolm or Martin alive today, they might applaud an Oprah or an Obama, but they would likely as well cringe at a Kanye or PacMan Jones. We still have divisions in this country, but there much more along money lines or false perceptions of cultural issues. Ultimately, you know and I know what has to happen. If I believe what I say I believe, I know the future that lies ahead. One of every tribe tongue and nation united in exaltation (sorry pulled a Jesse Jackson there) to the One who made them. And until that moment comes we have to step out, under the banner of that loving Maker-not on some narcissistic self imprisoning island- and build the bridges to connect each other.

Look, I know this thing got serious out of nowhere, but that's the way life is-especially on the road. One minute you're shaking your head in disbelief at a rooster made out of car bumpers and the next you're standing in the shadows of history. A history that most of us walk by everyday and think twice about. Sure it can get a little heady or "too serious" but when it comes to how we deal with each other, maybe we should be a little more serious.

Gotta go now. Airport Muzak is rocking Kool & The Gang, "Cherish," and you know that's my jam!

"There's a new band in town/but you can't get the sound/from a story in a magazine/aimed at your average teen..."

So Friday, I'm sitting in an airport in Jacksonville, waiting to go home and I start blogging. It was there that I wrote the 3/7 entry on travel (the one with the Seger references). About half way through writing that blog, it shifted off into this other thing you see below. I quickly decided I needed to split the two up as the didn't work in the same text. Too much going on. Ironically, this morning I already posted about "passion." And this little fella shows me in full blown Lewis Black level rants, exhibited the aforementioned intensity. Enjoy.

(pulls of surgical cap, slides down mask)

I'm gonna go ahead and call it. Music. Time of Death: somewhere in the not to distant future.

The scary thing is William Martin Joel, recorded the above ditty in 1980 . 25+ years before all this happened. (yes, Timmy, there was music before Nirvana)

There really is nothing new under the sun/Son.

The field I work in is shambles. The music industry-like most-is struggling to figure out how to replace an aging baby boomer generation, when young people today want it free or at least cheap. It's the root of every economic problem our country is facing. The largest buying group in history is aging or dying and no one is stepping in to field the void. Social Security is collapsing not just because there are so many 65 year olds to support. It's collapsing because there's so many young people who are living pretty lavish lives on mommy & daddy's dime.

This week I heard the story of a college student-who's at least got a job-and their car broke down. It was a major problem, but as the car was pretty new one that could be easily fixed for around $1000. Now don't get me wrong, a grand is nothing to sneeze at, but its a new car and surely it would make more sense to pay to have it fixed. No, not our hero. Mommy & daddy bought them a new car and paid to have the old towed home, so they can fix & sell it. But I haven't even got to the best part. As it was told to me, when mom & dad pulled up in his/her new foreign car (not cheap), our hero was disappointed to find it was silver, a color he/she didn't prefer.

My grandfather had a 3rd grade education (hold your KY jokes for now), fought at Bastogne in WWII and made over a million in career earning by the age of 55. My stepfather worked 3 jobs at one point and went to school so he could become a tradesman and make a good living building that ungrateful person's car. I'm 32 and have worked a full schedule since I was 16. Meanwhile, more than half of Americans 16-25 don't work. They're accruing more debt than any generation before them and even more interesting, they see no real desire to pay it back. For a generation, expectation without too much effort is the norm.

So it should come as no real surprise that this age group, who also happening to be the largest demographic for music consumption is not buying music. Last year, only an estimated 42% of all music was acquired legally. And the sad truth of it is this, its a self fulfilling prophecy. If everything continues at its present rate, artists won't be able to afford to make any music. At least not for distribution to the masses. Music will go back to the days of classical composers when music was only heard when performed live. And even that will only be in small gatherings.

During The Renaissance, much of the classic works created where endowed by the church. Unfortunately in most cases, today's church is filled with a wealth of paranoia for what is going on in the art community and has little time or money to care for the poor, much less "whacked out liberal artsy types."

And let's be honest, little of what is made today is all that artsy, but even entertainment, in its most remedial forms serves a purpose.

Sad days indeed.

But wait! This is just one industry. What happens when a generation with this mindset is expected to earn a living, to support the American economy, to be the primary consumer for real estate, investments, infrastructure, and all forms of commerce?

I gotta be honest, and I hope I'm not offending anyone, but if the youth of America continues this way, I see an uphill battle for those of us who came before and a mountainous terrain for the generation that comes behind (sorry sons).

The death of something I love appears on the proverbial horizon. I have walls and walls of my house reverberating with music. And by the time I'm 40, I may not be adding anything to it.

In the grander scheme, I fear a longer road ahead for all of us. Music may just be the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Could it be that life, as we've seen it these last few years is not a rut, but a preface for what lies a head for the "land of the free and the home of the brave?" Maybe this nation and this world is headed for an economic shakeup that has a lot more to do with life cycles than it does the guy or gal (yeah right, like she's gonna win!) who sits in the Oval Office.

Nothing's wrong as far as I can see/We make it harder than it has to be

Passion is a funny thing.

It is an amazingly seductive little emotion that can often be overlooked as just something with a romantic application. Often that's just the tip of the iceberg. Passion is not just romance. When you're passionate for something, it's very nature urges you. Could be your career, could be your art, your faith and yes even your special someone. But when you strip all that down, the root is motivation.

For as long as I could remember, I have been a passionate person. Somewhere along the line I got it in my head that anything worth doing requires an unwavering commitment and unshakable dedication. Now this doesn't mean I am someone who never gets distracted or puts it on "cruise control." It just means I like to get intimately involved in most things I put my hands to. Family, career, any new project, you name it, I get easily motivated.

I would wager at my peak, I have only found one person who can match my intensity when it comes to endeavors and I married her.

Now right about now, Kara, you are probably reading this and thinking, "baby, I love you and I am passionate about some things, but honey, sweety you're obsessive at times." She's probably thinking that and she would be right. But my beloved gets just as amped as I can at times, just sometimes for different things.

The interesting thing is when our combined passion is most intense, is when an obstacle comes our way. Now sometimes, that is a great thing. When you're in the fire you want someone to face the flames with you. Other times, when its some random insignificant moment we're facing , the passion is there, but it's misguided.

I won't speak for Kara, but I can park on some inane issue and not let up on it. The littlest trivial thing can become consuming for me and I turn into a vortex sucking my wife, kids, friends or anyone else into my intensity. I can take a simple discussion about tone of voice, over analyze it and turn it into a 30 minute conversation (mostly me yammering and the other party wanting it to end) that really serves no one. Not even me.

But that is not the ultimate frustration. That comes from the unlikeliest result of any sustained barrage of misguided passion. Let me paint a scenario that has happened in the past.

1. Somewhere in the midst of an otherwise normal day, my wife will say something totally normal and in line with the conversation we're having. Yet, my overly analytical head will trigger off something in the tone and start using my misplaced passion to please her, to question her about it ( simply put, I am hounding the snot out of her).

2. Kara will assure me nothing is wrong and try to move past it, but that passion won't let it go, so I keep pushing.

3. Kara starts to get frustrated with my reenactment of the Spanish Inquisition (wikipedia, kids) and wonders quite simply, "what the hell is wrong with him?" And rightfully so.

4. After something in the neighborhood of 30 questions in 90 seconds, she finally starts rolling through the mental Rolodex looking for anything the may answer me and put all this weirdness at bay.

5. This is the best part. At some point, the frustration becomes unbearable. We exasperate each other to the point of indifference and we don't talk to each other for another hour or longer.

There of course is the irony. Kara and I (or my parents & I, whomever I am talking to) are both passionate, passionate people. We love to be involved in things that move us and there is seldom anything that moves us quite like each other and our kids. But look, what's happened. Because my initial passion was misguided, we defuse all of the passion that we usually bring to our marriage and end up apathetic to each other.

Now don't get me wrong. My intent was pure. I sensed something was bothering the one I love most and I wanted to care for her. To meet her need. But somewhere along the line, that concern and care was trampled for the sake of finding the answer. I was so focused on finding what was bothering her, that I bothered her.

The point is not whether one of us did something to hurt the other. The point is we let the passion control us. We obsess about what is driving us at any one moment and become blind to anything but the ultimate result, even ignoring the collateral damage left in the wake of it all.

Simple and plain it's sin. God gives us, gives me, these gifts and they are powerful. And just like a classic plot line of comic books, cartoons, etc. (think G I Joe, Transformers) if this fall in the wrong hands it can destroy.

My wife is often guilty of little when I get this way. And sadly she pays the highest price. Not only does she find herself on the defensive with me going all Lt Kaffee to her Col. Jessup ("You can't handle the truth!!!!"), but she bears the bigger longtime scar. With each passing inquiry. Each misguided investigation she alters herself to be more like the machine she's placed in. She becomes overly analytical, obsessive and her passion misguided. Why? Because that's the environment forced on her. When placed in adverse circumstances, human nature is survival.

Only now do I realize this. Only now do I see the walls I built up for her (and others I have done that to). Again, the purest of intentions, the most misguided of efforts. Horrible results.

I have sat in Kara's seat in this. There are those in my life who have put me in that corner, most with best intentions, and still killing my passion and theirs as well.

I am learning now. Learning to let things go. Learning to stop and think a bit more before I react/ "go to work" on trying to get the result. I'm not there yet. Not even close, but it's building and those results, that passionate will be more fulfilling than anything else I could ever seek.