My family will go on vacation to Maine from Friday, July 11th to Wednesday, July 16th. Please pray for our safety, for God to increase our enjoyment of Him, and for my personal time of healing, restoration, and growth.

Every trip to New York reminds me of how small and banal I am, because it is my view of this world's vastness. Not simply a geographical reminder, it presents a view of its vast sociological landscape, the myriad of talent, experience, and minds that exists in this world. This view presents different lessons every time I go. It challenges me to evaluate my dreams, to differentiate tangible visions from delusions of grandeur.

Good day, readers. I will post a stereotypical blog entry, instead of a usual snippet of my mental state.

On Wednesday, I took my younger brother Joe to New York. For some reason, I couldn't sleep that night, so I worked on a cover letter.

My roommate dropped us off at the student center on his way to work. I instantly dozed on the campus bus due to exhaustion. I dozed on the train to NY due to exhaustion. After I took a picture of Joe in front of Penn Station escalators, we walked north to Sam Ash and bought him wire drum brushes. We crossed the street to Manny's, where I played with a $2100 and a $3000 Martin. I didn't see the justification for the price, although they did sound good. I noted the Martin from the 1930s going for $35,000, and headed for the electric guitars. I laughed at the $2000+ sticker prices for the electrics, and wondered what could possibly justify these prices. I saw a line of Fender knockoffs called "Tom Anderson Guitarworks" and picked up the Telecaster wannabe.

Ok, so, it did sound good. Fine, so, it sounded great, good enough to make me smile and improvise like I haven't for a while. It left a good feeling. But $2100?

Joe and I walked to the New York Public Library, where we took more pictures and read until 6. At around 3, we took a lunch break at Subways, and ran back the library in pouring rain that stopped upon our arrival. Go figure.

We explored the northwestern section of Central Park, since it was close to Columbia. We stupidly walked into an isolated section of the park, and ran into a man in his twenties that tried to scam/threatened us. I was pissed but couldn't do anything because I saw two people hiding in the trees; I didn't want to risk it. I told Joe to give him a five. I told him that I trusted everything he said, smiled politely, and he finally left. We prayed for him as we walked off. I wished I was bigger, so that I wouldn't look like an easy target.

I took Joe to Columbia since he had an interest in applying there. We in front of the center lawn and read. Afterwards, we met up with Jimmy Choi at Koronet, then watched live jazz at Cleopatra's Needle. The quartet —more like, a trio of Japanese musicians in their late 20s that hired a black sax player— was decent; Jimmy said that they were strictly "by the book" in their playing. Listening to and watching the guitarist made me feel like I didn't know a thing about the guitar. What shame, what shame.

Jimmy drove us to Penn Station. Joe and I caught a train that was just about to leave. An annoying couple that had just gotten out of a Pearl Jam concert at Madison Square Garden sat behind us. I fell asleep to their profanity-laced antics, wishing that I could fall into a deep sleep to block them out. My roommate graciously picked us up at that late hour.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been praying about improving my voice. However the more I pray, the harder a time I have with singing. It feels like everything that I've worked up to (a point not that far to being with) has all gone to waste, as my throat is so tight, my focus so shot that I can't even sing normally anymore. It's interseting that this all happened after I asked for my voice to improve. Is this a flat out "no" from God? Is this a challenge He's throwing at me to get even better? Is this even something I should care about now?

Regardless, I need help with my voice, and with my music. I need an external source of accountability, like a teacher, to help me with my voice and guitar issues. Ah, but if I only had the funds to do so...

What keeps me from pursuing, in doubt, and full of frustration?

Answer: a short fuse, oversensitivity to emotion.

God, i wish i wasn't me sometimes. I need rescuing from myself. i need an rx-8 and a california highway out of here. i need a metamorphosis of epic proportions. I need this, i need that.

what did the apostle paul say in philippians?

"...I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

God, I wish my heart to be of similar nature to say this with genuine belief, not frustrated ritual.