The Boy Who Forgot His Birthday

I once knew a guy who forgot his own birthday. He told me this right after we discovered that we shared the same birthday. Here I was excited for this insignificant date that marked another year of me being on this planet, and he had gone a whole day without noticing that he had been around that much longer. I don’t mean to say that birthdays aren’t important. It’s a way of being thankful for another year, and it is a time of celebration. But maybe it’s not all about me. I didn’t trump God and put myself on this planet. I wasn’t involved in my conception—thank God. And I had nothing to do with the day that I showed up on this planet.

So if for one day a year, I get to celebrate the day I was born, I realized now that it shouldn’t be all “me, me, me.” Me, myself, and I can only do so much. In a whirlwind of events I found myself displaced and emotionally bankrupt. My mess multiplied and grew so out of control that I had mistaken it for a mental tumor—not a brain tumor, but a mental one. It wasn’t a physical mass in brain that was causing me physical harm; I thought my conglomeration of problems had amounted into something causing me to not function properly. Instead, I diagnosed myself with a bad case of self-pity. My dad said something that really stuck with me tonight: there are other people that have it worse than you.

I know. I dedicate my time to helping people in need and seeing what I can do to truly make a difference. Yet I had lost sight of that. I had been lazy and forgotten about my faith and, most importantly, I had forgotten about what was important to me. It’s easy to be upset, and it’s easy to wallow in all of the things that are wrong with your life and the world. The guy who’s going 25 in a 45 seems like an idiot. The woman who rams into our cart in an impatient temper-tantrum seems like an evil witch. Or what about the guy who makes it his personal mission to be a jerk to everyone he comes into contact with all day. There will always be those people. Your car will break down. Your bill will be overdue. And you will be ok.

Simply put, there are problems in the world and there are mean people. Said like a second grader, but it is the clearest way to put it. Sometimes it’s ok to forget about all of that. In life, there are times when we have to suck it up and realize that life isn’t always about us—there are bigger plans in store. The battles we face don’t seem small until we have overcome them. Just like our birthdays don’t seem that insignificant until we have forgotten them.

You have to decide what’s important in your life. Is this really the “worst possible case scenario?” Were you the only person born on that day of the year? The boy who forgot his birthday reminded me that I’m not, and that there are more important things in life. He may have just forgotten his birthday because he’s a boy and maybe he just has a really bad memory. But maybe, just maybe, he finds value in other days, and not just the ones revolved around him. I can admire that.

As for my dad goes, well let’s just say I don’t always give him the credit he deserves. So here’s to hoping to that he knows just how much I appreciate him and everything he does, even if I have trouble showing it sometimes.

Just another day from Life in the Lost and Found Bin. 

Turn It Up

There’s nothing quite like a good Pandora playlist. Today at work my boss and I kept raving over the playlist he found, because some of our favorite songs were coming on. It made the day so much more enjoyable.

There are only a few words in the English language that I can’t seem to comprehend no matter how many times I hear them: “I. Don’t. Like. Music.” Excuse me, what? It sounded like you just said that you don’t like music, but I know I was mistaken because how can you not like music? With so many genres and artists, how can you not find something to like? It must so far beyond comprehension for me, because I am so insanely in love with it.

Music can change your mood, enhance your day, help you cope, teach you lessons, confirm your feelings, make you feel like you belong, and the list is endless. There is a song for everything. People have literally written songs about their cats… I mean, if you haven’t found a song to relate to, you clearly aren’t looking—or listening.

I wrote a blog post about a year and half ago about Sara Barielles—and how much I want to be her (which hasn’t changed, just for the record). Since then, she has grown even more as an artist, and I have grown to admire her even more. I truly believe that she is under-recognized and under-appreciated.  From her lyrics to dancing, she is outstanding, and I’m so impressed with her latest album, “The Blessed Unrest.”

If you haven’t seen the video for her hit single “Brave,” CHECK IT OUT HERE.

And seriously, if you are one of those non-believer in music, please check out my side links. Pandora and Spotify are my favorite for finding new music. There is something out there for everyone! So listen closely, and turn it up. 

This Heart is Burning Up

The Cities 97 Basilica Block Party is an event that you don’t want to miss. It’s filled with live music, fair-style food, and inspiration that you can’t get anywhere else. Last year Mat Kearney and Train left me in awe with engaging and beautiful performances. If you have been even semi-browsing my blog, it shouldn’t come as a shock that I’m a music-junky. It’s a rush that I can’t resist.

After seeing the band Walk the Moon was heading back to Minneapolis for the second time this year, I was thrilled to see them again. Just six months earlier I was with some of my best friends at the Fine Line Café listening to a band that I had never heard of before and couldn’t get enough of after that night. Without a shadow of doubt it was the best concert that I had been to—and with music as my drug of choice, I’ve been to more than a concert or two.

The headliners of last nights Basilica Block Party were Kate Earl, The Goo Goo Dolls, and Matchbox Twenty—all performing on the Sun Country Stage. But when Walk the Moon overlapped with The Goo Goo Dolls, there was no question about bailing on the Dolls. We stayed just long enough to hear “Rebel Beat”, which didn’t meet my expectations live (partially because the older crowd around us wasn’t all that into it, and partially because they weren’t the same live unfortunately).

From the time Walk the Moon hit the stage with “Next in Line” to the time they left the packed yard of the Jefferson Stage with “Anna Sun”, the crowd clapped and danced more than any concert I have ever been to. And when the main singer, Nicholas Petricca, told everyone to put all their troubles into a ball in their heart and release all the negative energy, there wasn’t a soul there that didn’t believe that they could lift a car up all by themselves.

The energy and excitement the band exudes electrifies their audiences in a way that most groups can’t achieve. They bring young love to life, singing about exhilarating experiences and the feeling the girl they like gives them every time they see her. Iscariot tells a story of betrayal, with the title being a Biblical reference. As previously mentioned, “I Can Lift a Car” inspires listeners to believe in how strong they are. (In January, I wrote two blog posts inspired by that song.)

Two of the best musical experiences that I have ever had were created because of Walk the Moon. Their crazy dancing and unbelievable energy far surpasses any Top 40 “Hit.” If you haven’t listened to these guys before, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. Seriously, check them out.

If you are a dedicated fan, I know your heart is burning up, too, because these guys are really something else. This year they started ended their tour with Minneapolis, as they set off back to Ohio to write music for the rest of the summer. And I couldn’t be more thrilled that I got to see them for both of those concerts.

They are wild. They are weird. They are Walk the Moon. 

Photo Cred: Lauren 

Red. White. And Boring.

The 4th of July means something different to everyone. For some it's filled with lake water and mosquito repellent. Others spend it closer to home, perhaps with an assortment of grilled meat and fruit medleys. And then there is those of us who are confined in an empty room, making meager earnings and praying for more customers. Saying the week of the 4th was a slow week, would be like saying the White House is a mansion. I spent more time cleaning than I did serving ice cream. As you can imagine, the night of the 4th was no exception. But as we approached closing time, I grew more and more hopeful that we might actually get out of there by the time we were supposed to close. 

Our already-small crowd of customers dwindled to a single couple, who seemed in no hurry to end their night, lingering in the dining room. The sun was setting, and the rumbling of do-it-yourself fireworks had begun. "We Will Rock You" was playing softly in the distance; would it be America if it wasn't? And I was more anxious then ever to get out of there. 

After work, I had a twenty minute drive to let a dog out for the people I babysit for. So it wasn't like I was in a rush to see fireworks, but I knew that I would at least catch a glimpse of a few on the road. And I did. They were all in the distance, and I couldn't hear any of them (This may be partially due to the fact that I cranked the radio the second I hit the highway), but that didn't cloud the magic. I was less than a mile from my destination, and I looked around me. There were fireworks all around me. On the right. On the left. And in front of me. Three separate shows, all coming together as one for me in that moment. It was like my very own finale. 

Like I said, the 4th of July means something different to everyone. For me, it doesn't have to mean barbecues and boating. Just seeing the fireworks creates a shimmer of hope that there really are things that forceful and incredible in the world, and that beauty can originate in the most simple of places. 

God bless America.