The Train Ride To Reno

Ah, the train odyssey to Reno…where to start?  My brother recently took the Amtrak from Provo to Reno, and he said it was a fairly pain-free trip. He said he basically just slept the whole way, and I was expecting a similar experience.

I originally had a ticket leaving from Provo, but I had forgotten that the Jimmy Eat World concert was the same night and I already had tickets for the show. I changed my ticket to leave from Salt Lake, which was $20 cheaper. Bonus! I thought I was off to a great start. I left my backpack in a locker at the Greyhound station next to the Amtrak station and walked to the concert. On the walk of 4.5 blocks, I got asked for money eight times. Yep, almost two beggars per block. I usually give beggars money, but damn, I am not a Rockefeller. I briefly considered gathering them all into a circle, throwing some cash on the ground, and yelling, “Survival of the fittest, bitches!”

The concert was good. I have seen Jimmy Eat World eight times now. They promised me a setlist, but some chick snatched it at the end of the show as it was being handed to me. Oh well, I have other setlists from them.

After the show, I walked back to the bus station to get my backpack. I called my mom so that I could feign urgency while passing back through the bum gauntlet. Surprisingly, it worked. I got my bag from the Greyhound locker and got the hell out of there. A word to the wise – don’t hang around Greyhound stations. I saw a drug deal go down last time I was there, and both parties involved kept looking at me the whole time.

When I arrived at the Amtrak station, it was about 45 minutes until my scheduled departure time. I sat down outside on a planter because it was hellishly hot in the station. There were about a dozen other people sitting around. When 11:30PM rolled around and the train was not there, I went inside to see what was up. They said the train was a little over an hour late. Apparently there was train traffic or something.

Suddenly, a Tongan family walked up and sat down. I only mention their race because they were stereotypically large, and later pretended to not understand English when they cut in front of everybody in line. There were what appeared to be two grandmas, one grandpa, two 40-something sisters, a daughter, and a son. The girl, who appeared to be about 11-12 years old, started complaining about being hot. She then took off her shirt. At first I thought maybe I was mistaken, and it was really a boy who just had long hair and bossoms, and was wearing a purple shirt. However, to the extreme discomfort of everybody around, it was indeed a girl. She started walking around, uncomfortably close to other people. It was at this point that I said to myself in utter astonishment, but loud enough to be audible, “What the fudge?!?!” Only I didn’t say fudge. Then the 8-9 year-old boy grabbed a stick and started running around yelling. He started hitting a metal electrical box with the stick, which was extremely loud. The mom started yelling, “Stop it! Stop it!” but didn’t bother to get up or do anything else in the way of parenting.

They finally announced that the train was about 20 minutes out (this was around 1AM), and somebody would come around to give everybody a ticket to tell them which passenger car to get on. I prayed that I would not be on the same car as this family.

Sometimes prayers are not answered. They got car 511 - the same as me. As the train started approaching, they walked past the line of people and stood at the front. When several people started expressing their disapproval, they all started putting their hands up and saying, “No English,” even though everybody had heard them speaking English just minutes earlier. Actually, the grandparents may not have been able to understand, but everybody else clearly did.

As we boarded the train, there were already some people on board, asleep. I took a seat and put my bag next to me in the hopes that nobody would sit by me. The two sisters were the last to get on. Even though they cut to the front of the line, they walked so slow that everybody passed them anyway. Maybe that is why they cut. There was only one set of seats left. One of the sisters yelled out to the other sister, “Just wake someone up and tell them to move!” Several sleeping people woke up at the yelling. Then one of the sisters saw the chair next to me and asked if she could sit there. I said, “There is one open row right there with two seats.” She said, “But we will be squished.” I replied, “Too damn bad. That is not my problem.” She acted offended, but then squished in by her sister. Keep in mind that the sisters were probably 300+ pounds each (not an exaggeration), and it was a ten-hour trip. I was out of sympathy at that point, so I was not about to give up my comfort for some rude behemoths.

I tried my best to sleep, but then the sisters started watching videos on a phone and they didn’t use headphones. They started laughing very loud and making comments to each other using their regular voices; i.e. not voices you would expect people to use at 3AM on a train full of sleeping passengers. Then they broke into a pack of knock-off Oreos and couldn’t seem to figure out how to work the packaging. Again, super loud. I put in my headphones and fell asleep.

I woke up at 6AM to the sound of the riff from “Bad To the Bone” on piano – obviously a phone alarm tone. After about ten times of the riff repeating, I got up to see that both sisters were not in their seats, and the phone was just sitting there. The alarm tone kept going, and I contemplated going over and turning it off. Just as I was about to go over, the girl in the seat in front of the sisters, who was also woken up by the alarm tone, got up and grabbed the phone. It must have been locked, because she set it back down looking very angry. I surmised they had gone downstairs to the restrooms, so I timed them to see how long it would take before they came back to turn off the infernal alarm. I also started penning this memoir, as it is clearly a story that the world needs to hear.

Fifteen excruciating minutes later, they finally returned and shut off the alarm. Everybody was staring daggers at them, but they seemed not to care. They both fell asleep. Then the farting started. I will spare you the details other than noting that they woke themselves up with their own farts. I don't know if it was the noise or because they were so heinous, and frankly, I would rather not delve into that speculation.

I buried my face in the shirt I was using for a pillow, put in my headphones, cranked some Coheed & Cambria, and tried to fall asleep. The silver lining, if you can even consider it that, was that the train’s conductor told a really lame joke as we were arriving in Reno several hours late that made me laugh. It wasn’t really a laugh because it was funny. It was just a laugh at the entirety of the situation. He said a lady approached him when she found out the train was so badly delayed, looking very pregnant. She said, “If we don’t get there soon, you are going to have to deliver this baby.” He responded, “Well, you shouldn’t have gotten on train if you were pregnant.” She replied, “When I got on the train, I wasn’t pregnant.” Yep. That was my trip.

Interesting Experience

I had an interesting experience the other day that I shared with a few people who suggested I write it down.  Let me start by saying that I don't want to take credit for anything - I was just in the right place at the right time.  I was feeling kind of down.  I was frustrated with some things in my life. Whenever I get like that too bad, I say a little prayer to be able to forget my own problems and be lead to someone who needs help.

On Thursday I prayed to be able to help somebody out.  When I went to work, I parked in a different area from where I normally park.  I don't know why I did it other than I felt like I should.  I worked all day and nothing happened.  As I was packing up to leave, I got the feeling that I should wait ten minutes, so I just sat around for a little bit before finally walking across campus to my car.  When I got there, I saw a car parked in the spot directly to the right of my truck with the hood up.  I then saw a man wandering the parking lot obviously looking for help.  I asked him what was wrong, and he told me he had left his headlights on and his battery died.  He was from Ghana and didn't know anybody in town.  I jumped his car and he left.

I was packing up my jumper cables and about to leave when a girl got in the car directly to the left of my truck.  I sat and waited for a minute as I watched her try to start her car, but it wouldn't turn over.  I got out and had her pop the hood.  Her battery cables were slightly loose and had a bit of corrosion built up on the terminals.  I cleaned them off and tightened the battery cables.  We tried to jump the car several times, and finally after about 15 minutes of charging it, the engine turned over.  She was from Salt Lake, and didn't know anybody in town who could have helped her.

There are some people who could write off this experience as coincidence, but I don't see it that way.  Why did I feel like parking in a completely different area in the morning?  Why did I feel like staying an extra ten minutes after work doing nothing?  What are the odds that the two cars on each side of my truck both needed to be jumped, and that they both returned to their cars right as I was returning to mine?  These types of experiences happen quite often when I am feeling down and I pray to be able to forget myself and help somebody.

Withdrawals

I haven't posted anything in a few months, even though I wrote several posts that I didn't publish. They were more of just things for me that I wanted to write down, but not share with anyone. Anyway, I have been thinking about a lot of things lately and I finally have some time to sit and process my thoughts.  I have had some pretty extreme experiences lately that have helped me learn and grow.

Several people have mentioned to me that they wished they had qualities that they apparently think I possess.  They say I have patience and a positive attitude during hard times.  The truth is, I try to be patient and stay positive, but I have my breakdowns like anybody else.  In fact, I sometimes think I react stronger to certain things than most people.  One thing that always gets to me is when people don't respect my time.  This last month has been a hard test in that regard because I have had a lot of experiences where I felt like people were wasting my time.  When I step back, though, and try to be more forgiving of people, I feel better about it.  I am sincerely trying to see people as Christ would see them, and remember that they are going through their own difficulties.  This is kind of starting to sound like a confession of my shortcomings, and it kind of is, but I just need to get some thoughts out of my mind and things off my chest.

I got really bogged down in October and most of November.  Work was hard, football season was rough, and a whole series of crappy things happened in one giant cluster.  I prayed hard for certain things, and I felt like my prayers went largely unanswered.  I talked with some of my friends about a few experiences in particular and they helped me through some hard times, but it was extremely difficult.

During this last year dealing with the whole cancer business and other challenges, I felt like I was receiving a lot of help and I felt an added measure of strength helping get through everything.  But recently, that feeling of strength has left me.  I feel alone.  Even though my body is in a healthier state than it has been this whole last year, I don't feel that strength anymore.  I realize that I was getting a spiritual boost that I don't have anymore, and it is hard to go through that kind of withdrawal.  The last two months have been harder for me than the last year dealing with cancer, and I know it is because the extra spiritual boost I had is dwindling.  And it's not like I am doing a lot of bad things that would cause me to feel this way.  It is just that, for whatever reason, this is my new challenge.  I have to try to get by on my own for a while after spending so much time getting huge amounts of help.  People have reminded me that men much better than myself have gone through periods where they felt alone and like God had forgotten them.  When I remember those stories I realize that God does not really leave us completely alone.  This is just a testing period and God is really just trying to mold me.  I hope I can come closer to being the man He wants me to be.

How's Your Health?

I really don't want this to come off the wrong way, but I have been starting to get a little bothered by something that happens about a dozen times per week. I see someone that I haven't seen in a week or two, and the first thing they say is, "How's your health?" I know these people are trying to show their concern and support, and I really do appreciate it, but I am starting to feel like I am being defined by health. I don't want people to look at me as someone who is sick, and I certainly don't want people to look at me and feel sorry. I don't want those things to define who I am.

I have been trying a tactic when people ask about my health where I answer quickly and then try to change the subject to something more interesting. There was a time when my health was up in the air and I didn't know how to answer when people asked. But now things are a bit more stable and I probably won't know if there is any change for 8-9 months. So just so everyone knows, here is what's up - I am no longer doing chemo, the other medicine I have been taking seems to be working so I will stay on it for another year, and I will be doing checkups every so often. That's about it.

These situations where people ask about me have caused me to reflect a lot on what I want people to think of me and what I want to define me as a person. It is pretty simple. I want people to see me as the type of person who is kind and can be counted on when needed. I know I am rough around the edges, but I hope people see that I mean well.

Not to go super religious on everyone, but one thing I have been thinking a lot about lately is how Christ spent His time during his mortal ministry. As I told someone recently, Christ spent most of His time serving others, so how do you think He wants us to live? He didn't necessarily worry about going to the synagogues on a scheduled basis or reading the Torah every day. Almost everything He did was in service to the people around Him. That's how I want to live my life, at least to a greater extent. I was talking to somebody recently who was stressing about a lot of what I consider to be minor things. My advice was to go serve somebody. Service is the best way for us to forget about our own troubles and realize there is something greater out there. I have been on the receiving end of a ton of service lately, so I feel an even greater need for me to "pay" it back.

I am grateful for my health problems because I feel like they have given me a unique perspective on life. When you go through something pretty major where things are uncertain, it is pretty easy to figure out what is truly important in life. The truth is, most of the stuff people worry about every day is actually pretty unimportant in the grand scheme of things. My goal is to not worry about anything too much and just focus on trying to be a little better.

Concerts

This post kind of goes along with my last post where I talked about music, but this one focuses on concerts rather than albums. I just got back from seeing the Bouncing Souls in concert and I started thinking about how many bands I have seen and met. This was the 10th time I have seen the Bouncing Souls in concert. That is tied with Bad Religion, and after next week, Coheed & Cambria for the most times I have seen a band. Also up there is Jimmy Eat World (7 times), Ignite (6 times), the Street Dogs (6 times), and interestingly enough, New Found Glory (6 times), though most of the times I saw NFG were when they were supporting another band that I had gone to see.

Yes, I go to concerts all the time. My very first concert was when I was 16 and living in Arizona. I drove down to Phoenix to see Fenix TX and Blink-182. Bad Religion played in between them, and that was a defining moment of my musical life. After Bad Religion played, I remember thinking, "this is what a real band is like." They totally put Fenix TX and Blink-182 to shame. My very next concert was later that year in Reno, and it was Bad Religion with Ignite and the Promise Ring. I felt bad for the Promise Ring because they didn't play the same type of music and some people didn't like it, but they were awesome. Ignite totally blew me away, and I became an instant fan. Bad Religion, of course, was amazing.

Along the way, I have had some interesting experiences. I have gotten in a few fist fights at concerts, I have had tons of beer spilled on me, I have had random girls cling onto me and hold me for the whole show, and I even rode in a cop car and spent most of the night in the Yuba County police station holding cell in Sacramento, CA. I have seen the transition from when you had to be very sneaky with a film camera to get photos, to everybody having cell phone cameras that you don't have to hide. The same goes for the transition from waving lighters during ballads, to now waving lit-up cell phones (which is incredibly lame, by the way, and I refuse to participate). I have met most of my musical idols, and I have even got to have extended conversations with some of them.

If you read my last post, I mentioned the Gin Blossoms being a big influence. Well, I got to chat with them for a good 30 minutes one time. Coheed is another huge influence, and I have been able to meet them many times. In September of 2010, I went up to Boise to see them, and I had a backstage pass. As it turns out, I was one of only 5 people on the list, so I got to sit down and chat with them for about 45 minutes. I had already had the chance to meet them and get autographs twice in two different cities on the 2007 Warped Tour. Then I met them twice in May 2010, and got autographs again at a meet-and-greet. So when I saw them in September of 2010, they knew who I was. Travis even mentioned how I looked like I could be his brother. I thought that was cool. Just recently I got to talk with all the guys from Ignite and they signed an album for me. I kind of stuck out because my arm was in a sling and I had the whole Grizzly Adams thing going on (plus the crowd was tiny). Then I saw Pennywise with Zoli from Ignite on vocals a few weeks later in Salt Lake. He recognized me and said, "Hey man, I just saw you in Vegas a couple weeks ago with Ignite." I know it is kind of silly, but that was so great to me.

Something that always interests me about live performances is how songs that didn't particularly stand out to me on an album will really hit me when they are performed live. I think that has a lot to do with my own emotional response, but also seeing the emotion in the performance. When I saw the Gaslight Anthem, the song that hit me the hardest was "Only Cowgirls Get the Blues," which was toward the bottom of my list of favorites of their songs from the albums. But when I saw Brian singing with such emotion, it really struck me. The same thing happened when I saw Weezer one time in Tucson. It was weird, but during one of their songs that usually doesn't do much for me emotionally, I was just struck by this feeling. It was a combination of memories of the things I was doing when I had heard the song in the past, and also the fact that I was with my best friends on a beautiful night outdoors listening to one of my favorite bands. I think hearing the artists explain the backstory of songs can add a lot of emotion too. Again with Weezer, they did a show in Vegas where they played all of the Blue Album and then all of Pinkerton. In between albums, they took a break and did a slideshow with Karl explaining everything that was going on at the time when they were working on the albums. It added a lot of depth.

Since my first show over 12 years ago, I have been to hundreds of shows and seen tons of different bands. People always ask me what concert was my favorite, or who is best in concert. To me, that is kind of like asking a mother which of her children is her favorite. However, I do think one concert in particular was so incredibly amazing that I might be able to pick it as my favorite. Back in 2009, I saw Jimmy Eat World play Clarity in its entirety, plus a huge encore of all of their best songs. There are number of reasons it was amazing. 1) It was in their hometown of Tempe, AZ, and I spent many years of my childhood in AZ. 2) It was the 10 year anniversary of Clarity. 3) They had practiced a ton, and included every little nuance that is found on the album in their live performance. It was seriously the best sounding and best performed concert I have ever seen. They even played all 16 minutes of "Goodbye Sky Harbor" with Jim looping his voice to do all of the harmony parts at the end. 4) I have extreme emotional connections to the album Clarity. 5) I was with my brothers and my best friend, and we were having the time of our lives. 6) I have a high-quality recording of the concert that I can always listen to, and one day I can show it to my kids and say, "I was there."

Music Stuff

As many of you know, I have been playing a lot of shows with my friend, Cami. We have basically been playing one show every week and it has be a ton of fun. We have encountered just about every problem you can expect from live performance situations, but it is always a good learning experience. I already have tons of experience doing live performances as I have been playing in bands for 15 years now, but this has still been a learning experience because I am a little out of my element. I usually play on electric guitar or a full drumset, but now I am playing acoustic and my cajón. My rock band has been playing so long that we can improvise hours of music without needing to practice, and we can read each other's cues to know what to do in live situations. I am starting to get to that point with Cami, but I think I still need a lot more practice. We are currently recording an album, and it is pretty exciting because I think it has a lot of potential.

Lately, I have been thinking about what got me started playing music. It was the mid '90's, and I was getting into a lot of rock bands that were not just bands that my parents listened to. I have to give my parents credit for raising me on great music like Led Zeppelin, Boston, CCR, ELO, Bad Company, Journey, etc. One of the first bands I really got into that was modern rock was the Gin Blossoms. I was living in Arizona at the time, and they were a local AZ band that was starting to break out. Then I got really into the Smashing Pumpkins when "Siamese Dream" came out. I remember listening to it when I would roll up the newspapers for my paper route. I was 11 years old then. Then Nirvana became huge and I was obsessed with them. I remember listening to "Nevermind" every day before heading off to football practice in 7th grade. I started thinking maybe I should try to learn how to play guitar. My older brother took a guitar class and asked for a guitar for Christmas that year. To my surprise, I also got an electric guitar of my very own. I had never taken a class and knew absolutely nothing about guitar. I read about how to tune and then quickly learned "Everything Zen" by Bush on Christmas morning. I am sure it sounded terrible, but I thought I was awesome.

After just playing around for a few weeks I started learning about how to read tablature, and I would practice along to songs as I listened to them. I specifically remember ditching church one Sunday and just sitting down and learning all of "Come Out and Play" by the Offspring. It was at that point that I started trying to make up my own riffs. Most of my first riffs were based off of three-chord structures that were very simple, probably because I was listening to Green Day's "Dookie" a lot in those days. If you want to learn how to play guitar, I suggest learning Green Day songs first because you can learn a whole album in about an hour without any real guitar skills.

Fast forward one year to the next Christmas. At that point, my older brother and I had been writing songs for a while and wanted to record some stuff. My younger brother got a bass guitar for Christmas that year, and my friend, Riley Trickey, got a drumset. Riley had been playing guitar for a little longer than me, so we went up to his ranch to record some songs. Since nobody played drums, I hopped on Riley's set and tried to figure out some drum beats. We recorded a handfull of songs that we thought were awesome. They were really just collections of riffs put together rather than actual songs. However, a few of those riffs became the basis for our first real songs. Since drummers are always in short supply, I decided to focus more of my attention on becoming a drummer. I still switch off between guitar and drums, and I can't say that I enjoy one more than the other because I love both.

Over the last 15 years, I have played in a number of bands spanning many genres, and I have written or helped write hundreds of songs. I have recorded the equivalent of 8 albums. I have played tons of shows ranging in size from 5 to 5,000 people. Still, I don't know what I am supposed to be doing with my talents. I keep wondering if this is something that is just a hobby to keep myself occupied so I don't get into trouble, or if maybe I have songs that could somehow benefit somebody else. I honestly believe music can be a great source of inspiration and/or comfort to people in tough situations, so I wonder if maybe I have something to say that will resonate with others. Whatever the case is, I really enjoy making music, even if I am the only one who is going to hear it. So we shall see where these new musical opportunities will take me.

Almost Done (Maybe?)

As many of you know, I have been doing a chemotherapy/experimental drug treatment for the last six months through the Huntsman Cancer Institute. I now only have five days left before I go in for my scopes/scans/surgery. I am pretty stressed out and nervous about what is going to happen when they go in and check everything out because there are really only three possible outcomes: 1) the drugs worked and I am done, 2) the drugs are working and I have to stay on them for longer, or 3) the drugs didn't work and I need to take more drastic measures. Considering my mom has been battling this for 18 years, I don't the first outcome is very likely. If I have to continue this drug treatment much longer, though, I don't know if I can handle it. There are so many awful side-effects I have just become accustomed to, but I don't think I could do it for the long haul. I almost don't remember what it was like to not have constant, extreme fatigue, or constant stomach pains, or to have normal hair that isn't brittle and falling out, or to be able to wear shirts without having to soak the blood stains out every night because my chest and back are a war zone.

People keep asking what is going to happen when I go in for my scopes/scans/surgery next week. I don't even fully know. When I went in after Thanksgiving, they did a colonoscopy and an esophagogastroduodenoscopy. They digitally mapped out my entire digestive tract and cut out the biggest polyps. They are going to do the same thing next week and compare the two scans to see if there is any difference. However, if things are too bad, there is a pretty good chance I am going to have to have my colon partially or completely removed. My mom had her colon removed, and I was told that it is fairly likely that I will have to have mine removed. So I guess we will see what happens. One thing I know for sure, though, is that the prep is a bitch. I can't eat for three days, and I have to take extreme amounts of laxatives to completely clean me out. It sucks. Also, with colonoscopies that require biopsies (like mine will) there is a 1 in 200 chance of having serious complications. I think my body knows I am stressed because I have been getting white hairs in my head and beard hair like crazy lately.


People keep telling me to just put my trust in God and it will be okay. It is a lot easier to say that, though, when you are not the one having to go through the trial. The thing is, I always put my trust in God, but that doesn't mean things always work out. Just look at the numerous examples in scripture where good people put their trust in God and horrible things happen to them. This is the whole idea of a trial by fire. The people who made it through those trials usually went on to do great things, but that doesn't mean everything was okay. I am not saying I am like the great men from the scriptures, I am just saying that putting your trust in God doesn't necessarily mean things will be okay. That being said, having trust in God does make the hard trials more tolerable because you believe there is a purpose behind your suffering. If I didn't trust in God, I don't know what I would do. I believe everything I am going through is somehow making me a better person, but like I said, that doesn't mean everything is going to be okay. That probably sounds pessimistic, but I am just trying to be realistic. I do know that this whole experience has humbled me more and brought me closer to God. It has also taught me that there are a lot of good people in this world who can do amazing things when given the chance to help somebody like me. I feel more in tune with other people's suffering, and I am more compassionate toward those who are going through hard times. Hopefully I am a little better than I was before, and if I am, my trials are worth it. I just have to remind myself of that every once in a while.