Crushing Krisis

The Newest Oldest Blog In New Zealand

betterment

10 Commandments for 2013

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Happy New Year, et cetera, et cetera.

The last time I was at work (mmm, 4-day weekends), a few of us clustered around Ashley’s desk and tried to name all 10 Commandments. I was brought up on that stuff, a mind full to the brim of bible verses, but now it’s all been replaced with key changes and X-Men errata. I only got five commandments in before I ran out of steam.

What struck me as we tried to name the remaining commands is that once you discard the obviously godly ones, you’re simply left with sensible suggestions to live at an even keel. That’s why they got codified into religious texts. It’s not like they’re god’s most notable oration, you know? They’re about balanced living.

I don’t make resolutions. Or, more accurately, I made a perfectly sensible set of them nine years ago and see no reason to change them at this point. However, that doesn’t preclude me from having guidelines or goals.

Or commandments.

Thus, here are my 10 Commandments for 2013. I don’t think I’m going to obey each one every day. But, I do think if I keep them in mind most of the time I’m going to enjoy this year more than the last.

1. Establish a Vision. Know the shape of the future you’re living towards, even if that vision is vague and shifting. After shrugging off so many potential apocalypses in 2012, don’t live towards a vacuum.

2. Value What You Have. The next best thing might make life great, but before you go after it take a moment to consider what you did with the last best thing.

3. Create Opportunities (To Create). Find time in your routine for creativity, but also know when to break out of your routine to create a unique opportunity.

4. Deliver More.  Years and careers and lives are better measured in achievements than attempts. Find a way to mark every month or week with something completed rather than five things started.

5. Fail More. The quickest path to mediocrity is only trying things you know you can do and delivering things you know are great. Do more. Stop worrying so much about if any of it is going to be any good.

6. Engage in Social Penetration. Value the narratives of others as you would have them value your own. We’re all stuck inside our brains at the center of our own universes, and everyone loves to have a visitor in their galaxy. Try engaging in other people’s stories more often and more genuinely.

7. Consume Appropriate Portions. Whether it’s food, work, sleep, exercise, or time spent with a good book, there is always too much of a good thing. Listen to the voice inside your head that says, “you may have had enough for now.”

8. Acknowledge Your Body. The voice inside your head does not always take your body into account, but if you listen you’ll learnt that your body rarely lies. We’re physical beings. If your body says “run,” go for a run. (If you’re body says “ice cream,” try to figure out why it’s saying “ice cream.”)

9. Good Habits Don’t Have to be Obsessions. Having a good habit does not mean it has to be the focus of every single day. You can skip a day of blogging or a week at the gym without shattering your habit. The only thing that can break a habit is you.

10. Focus on the Positive. It’s so easy to be a critic – to define your life by what you dislike. Stop doing that so much. An average day should have as many positives as negatives. Try grading things up from zero instead of always docking points off of unattainable perfection.

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I don’t have a single resolution for 2013, but if you want to know how I plan to live my year I can’t say it any more plainly than that. They don’t address everything and I might not obey them every day, but I think I could do a lot worse than use that list to guide my actions.

But, enough about me – what about you? Would my commandments work in your life? What is my list missing that’s essential to yours?

The Human Calculator v. The Harmony Jukebox

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That would be a pretty dull superhero fight, huh?

Actually, the title refers to Friday’s post, which drew a quick comment from someone who built a straw-man of “The Human Spellchecker” to stand next to my snarky Human Calculator.

I’m so high-and-mighty about math, but do I use a spell-checker when I blog? Would I deny people a spellchecker too in my dedicated Ludditism?

The answers are, respectively, “occasionally” and “of course!” The existence of tools to assist us doesn’t replace the need to master skills or knowledge on our own.

Consider the source. I take for granted that I’m comfortable doing both of these things. I have to proofread words and numbers as part of both my jobs and my hobbies. It’s in my best interest to be a knowledgeable snob about both.

Maybe they aren’t the best examples for me.

I always say, “music is like calculus to me.” Yet, I’m a musician. I don’t have wonderful pitch, and I am not a natural singer. I can’t pluck perfectly in-tune harmony notes out of thin air like E or Gina, each of whom I refer to as “The Harmony Jukebox.”

When our band learns a new song I usually have to play along on piano at first, and when I sing harmony in the car E has to sing with me the first few times. And I have to pay careful attention to breath support, shaping, and phrasing to stay in tune.

At some point I have to sing the notes myself in an effortless way. If I never eliminated the piano, or E, or the careful attention to every note, I wouldn’t be much of a musician. I mean, yeah, they have auto-tune for that now, but what about performing live.

Bottom line: being a musician is hard work for me! Sometimes it isn’t any fun at all.

What if math was that hard for me? Would I sometimes just whip out the calculator? Probably. But just like music, I’d still want to know how to do it myself. I still want to possess that knowledge.

What about you? Forget grade-school antics like math and spelling. What is a difficult skill that you have to reproduce daily? Do you use a tool to assist you? And, can you still perform the same task without the tool?

a rewarding life

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This is a story about rewards. Sort of. I’m not sure how to tell it, so I’ll just start at the beginning.

A little over a year ago I met Britt Miller – comm professional, digital native, and visual artist. Once Britt learned about my blogging she egged me into using Twitter. The rest, as we are accustomed to saying, is history.

It’s frigging crazy-ass history, actually. Playing streaming concerts, jumping out of planes, accepting awards, attending conferences in NYC – all of that borne out of Britt’s pestering me to get to know Twitter.

Skyline by Britt Miller (@brimil)

The two of us now share a “Fame 2010” plan of promoting and improving our respective arts all year. Last April, before all of that happened, Britt mentioned she was showing her art at the first ever “Earth Saturday” block party on South Street – an eco-friendly festival thrown by Big Green Earth Store and Whole Foods.

I asked Britt if she wanted some music to go with her art and the end result was that I wound up playing a block party along with some of my local favorites like Christie Lenee and Dante Bucci.

It was my first solo appearance in a long while, and it surprised me – even in the limitless space of an outdoor gig my songs felt big and sure, with just a few stumbles. It wound up being a major force in getting me into shape for playing and recording more than ever in the rest of 2009.

This past Saturday was the second Earth Saturday block party, again at 9th and South, and again featuring art from both Britt and I. My set felt even bigger and surer this year, and Britt had a table of beautiful prints of her art – major Fame 2010 success!

Britt is always pulling hilarious quotes of mine out of thin air, and before my set she had a great one. We were chatting with some twitter friends about my songwriting, and I made my usual disclaimer that it’s taken me a long time and a lot of work to get to where I am now – from being forbidden to sing in my high school halls to playing sets at eco-festivals. And, Britt said:

Peter, you said this awesome thing once. I heard someone tell you that you were a great singer, and you said, “Thank you. I’ve worked for thirteen years to hear that compliment.”

I don’t even remember saying that, but it’s indelibly me. To hear someone compliment me on my voice or my songs strikes me with awe – awe at what I’m hearing, and awe that nearly half a life of effort means I’m able to play music that people enjoy.

I wish I could take that feeling and transport it back to 15-year-old me, plucking out the strains of “Dilate” on his first guitar almost this very day in 1997.

Failing that, I’m sharing it with you. I hope you have something in your life that makes you as happy as my music makes me, and Britt’s paintings make her – especially when someone else stops to appreciate them.

Daily Demo: Icy Cold

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Here’s a brand new HD video of “Icy Cold” with beautiful hi-fi multi-track soundboard audio. It comes with a story.

Okay, story-time.

Ten years ago (less 24 days) I was a freshman in college, and I wrote a song called “Icy Cold.”

It was an odd one – very oblique lyrics in one of my more unusual alternate tunings (at the time) made it a challenge to sing and play. I left it off my 2000 demo CD Other Plans and, curiously, also did not consider it for my 2001 studio disc Relief. It remained bound to my apartment, where it factored in to a few of my favorite Trio recordings.

Around the same time I wrote “Icy Cold” – 86th in a rapidly-expanding list of songs – I decided that it was time for me to start playing shows.

Being rather ignorant as to what that entailed, I assumed that I would just phone up a local, mostly-acoustic venue where people I liked frequently played and explain that I wrote tons of awesome songs, and then they would invite me to play. (Later, after my initial flush of success, I could upgrade to playing the TLA or the Electric Factory).

The Tin Angel being the only local mostly-acoustic venue that I knew of at the time, I sussed out their booking information and rang them up.

That was the extent of my year-2000 booking experience at the Tin Angel. No follow-up. No booking. No flush of success.

To be fair, I would have been an utter disaster. I know some people so wonderful that their first ever show was at the Tin, but I was not that kind of wonderful in 2000. Sure, I had the awesome songs, but I could just barely sing, and I was playing a guitar that didn’t even especially stay in tune!

Over the course of the past ten years I’ve done a lot to rectify my singing and guitar-playing issues, and I’ve played in a lot of amazing Philly venues – including the Tin Angel, as part of a showcase with Arcati Crisis. Yet, I’ve never fulfilled that original goal of ten years ago – being featured solo on the bill at the Tin.

Well, that’s going to happen on Friday at 10:30 p.m., so when it came to choosing the first song to post in 2010 in this glorious new HD audio/video combo format it seemed natural to choose “Icy Cold” – especially given the slights it experienced in 2000 and 2001.

Plus, it’s really freaking cold out.

That’s my story.

PS: I owe the hugest possible shout-out to Tim Jahn for explaining Adobe Premiere Pro compression codecs to me via Twitter at the eleventh hour (literally) to make this beautiful video possible. Tim writes a blog of occasional, thought-provoking bulletins that I have been enjoying for months. You can also follow him on Twitter.

2010, pass or fail

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In perusing the new year’s resolutions of my bloggy and tweety friends, I’ve noticed a lot of hate on 2009.

I suppose a lot of terrible things happened to a lot of people last year, which makes me almost embarrassed to admit it was pretty awesome for me. I don’t have to explain why, because you’re reading my blog, AKA Peter’s Awesomeness Tracker (e.g., wedding, Paris, music festival, skydiving, #bdc, etc).

I also accomplished a lot of personal goals. Not resolutions, mind you – intangible, mutable agreements with yourself that you might choose to honor on any given day. No, real goals – like, “Keep a balanced budget,” “Record X songs,” and “Convert home office to recording studio.” And each goal came with an associated amount of points, altogether adding up to 100 – which meant I could grade myself on my year.

(I know, right? Only I would take delight in making new year’s resolutions into an academic endeavor with a grade.)

I didn’t get a 100% on 2009, or even a C. It was more of a pass/fail thing, and I certainly didn’t fail – in grade or in the obscene amount of important things I accomplished.

The goals were good for something else, too – they let me know what wasn’t important. If I cannot bring myself to tag the last 800 posts from CK’s first three months even with my grade hanging on the line, it’s just not gonna happen.

I kept that in mind as I designed my 2010 goals. I focused less on esoteric personal requirements and more on things I could accomplish and view a product of.

It’s hardly a secret that many of my goals are related to my music – over a third! Last year one of my big goals was to get out regularly to open mics, which I did! For 2010 one of the biggest goals, with the most associated points, is playing shows where I am featured on the bill.

What a coincidence, then, that I am playing my first solo gig at the Tin Angel this Friday.

201001tinangel

I have some more to say about that (CLEARLY!!!!!), but it will keep until the week begins.

Why I #blamedrewscancer, pt. 4

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(This is the last part of my story. You should read Parts 1, 2, and 3.)

It is a Saturday afternoon, and I am staring out into pure blue, 14,000 feet above the ground, through the open hatch in the side of our tiny plane.

On the ground my partner ran through it with me. Twice. Duckwalk to door. Head leaned back on shouder. One two three go. Or is it one two go-on-three? Tip back and forward, arch your body. Arms out. Keep your mouth closed if you feel like you can’t breathe.

Fly.

Staring out the open side of the plane, his instructions dissolve. Did it matter how I arched my back? Niceties, to placate a nervous jumper.

No matter what, we would fall – flying downward, into the embrace of gravity.

“One.”

“Two.”

…

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Here is #blamedrewscancer, as it’s root: we are talking about cancer.

Yes, it is inane. Yes, it is about Drew – for now. The point is, Drew gave us that – he gave us his struggle to make as silly or as serious as we need it to be.

Drew doesn’t really care if we say his name or what we blame. He just cares that we are talking about cancer. He wants to harness that conversation to raise awareness, hope, and donations. He wants to bring cancer into our daily dialog so we can work together to erase it rather than willfully ignore it until it touches our lives.

His plan is working. People are talking to Drew about his chemo treatments. I am talking to my friends about my grandmother. My co-workers are talking to each other about someone we lost, and how we can honor the fight that she won.

Blaming Drew’s cancer is inspiring us to live stronger, to be frank and hopeful about fighting cancer, and to show the love and support we may be feeling but afraid to say.

Inspiring us to win our battles.

Inspiring us to leap out of planes.

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I have dreamt for years that I can fly, so much that I halfway believe it. It’s not an occasional foray – I can fly in every one. The rush of air past my ears and my body, weightless and free. The feeling is familiar, tucked safely under my skin.

I’ve tried to capture it outside of my dreams on playground swings and amusement park rides. I’ve looked down from trade centers, massive arches, and wrought-iron towers. I’ve ridden on airplanes and have been towed behind a boat, limbs caught up in the wind.

The closest I’ve ever come was riding my bike. It was October 12, 1998, and I was three blocks north of here in Jefferson Square park. Biking home from Anastasia’s house, I sped up until the pedals offered no more resistance. Closed my eyes and held out my arms. It only lasted for a second, but that was my first waking flight – a feeling I already knew intimately.

On my list of five things to do before I die, “fly” was first. Fly for more than those fleeting seconds of eleven years ago. Fly like my dreams.

When Drew and Chris asked if I wanted to skydive with the team, it seemed insane. I met these people online. On Twitter. Was I really going to live my dream with a bunch of strangers from the internet?

It was not insane. It was kismet. It was Drew’s whole point. Live Strong. You want to fly? What’s stopping you? Jump out of a damned plane. You want to be a singer? Don’t make an excuse. Use your voice with confidence.

You want to beat cancer? Blame it and battle it and beat the hell out of it every day with all of the power and positive energy you can muster from yourself and from everyone you’ve ever met until you defeat it.

You have cancer, but cancer does not have you.

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…

“Three.”

FreefallingWe lean back and pitch forward, falling from plane. I arch. For a second it feels like nothing – the velocity of our bodies moving at the speed of the plane and the pull of gravity countermanding each other

Then, acceleration. Real flight, but towards the ground instead of up, up, and away like Superman or Neo.

In my mind I shrug off the man strapped to my back and the photographer waving in my face – unconsciously throwing him rock signs as he gestures towards his camera.

It is what I know beneath my skin, and more. There is no plane above or ground below. There is the rush of air past my ears and my body, weightless and free. There is limitless blue in every direction – I can’t see the ground. Gravity is for the weak-willed and falling is flying, hurtling, easy like love.

Wind blasts my limbs, buffeting my torso like a cascade of water. I feel strangely supported by the air, as if I could stand delicately on it, like snow.

That lasts for about a minute, or for the eternity of every dream I’ve ever had, depending on how I measure.

A whisper in my ear isn’t the wind, it’s my partner, long-since forgotten. I cross my arms, clenching my harness in my fists, and he pulls the cord. The parachute rides up above us, catching the wind. The harness bucks hard, and gravity is countermanded again. My stomach suspends itself.

This is a different kind of flying. Floating, perfectly controlled. Now I see the ground, and it is minuscule below us. Philadelphia rises in the distance, and i feel like we could just tip forward and head that way.

BDC Skydiving I break the silence.

“I should tell you something.”

“Hmm?”

We are having a conversation, circa 7,000 feet.

“I dream that I can fly. Not just some of the time. Like, every dream. It’s just something I can do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And it’s just like this.”

We hang in the restored silence, falling slowly. As the ground becomes nearer I scream my trademark soprano wail and listen as it fades away with nothing to reflect against.

Eventually there is a field and a landing strip, and we have a shadow, and it grows larger and larger until our bodies meet it, wrapped once again in gravity’s close embrace and a puddle of mud.

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Tonight at midnight Drew’s Blame-a-Thon begins – the reason I wound up sitting across the table from him at an Applebee’s two months ago.

In two months I have seen people and businesses do amazing things to encourage Drew and to support LiveStrong, all culminating in tomorrow’s event.

It’s about awareness and fundraising, but to me it feels halfway like faith-healing. Like, maybe if we all focus we can blame the cancer away.

Probably not. Not in one day, at least. But blaming cancer can change lives. It’s a chance to reassign the pain and bullshit in your life to something that really deserves it so you can stop making excuses and just live strong.

Blame cancer and change your life. Blame cancer and change someone else’s.

I blame Drew’s cancer for any second that I’m not living my ideal life as a stronger, faster, fiercer me.

And I am thankful for every moment that I am.