I just went into the music store to buy some drumsticks.

But the mandolin was so cheap...

I really need to stop thinking that I know what I'm doing.

So I've enjoyed working at the bank this summer. A whole lot. I feel welcome. It's like my family has just grown by about 160 people or so (that would be the approximatenumber of Legacy employees at the present moment). When I screw up, people laugh. When I'm too busy to do something, whoever is asking me simply says they'll try somebody else or that we'll worry about it later (as opposed to glaring at me or making me feel like trash). When other people mess up, they accept responsibility. And when it's funny, they laugh at themselves.

And, most importantly, nobody tries to make me feel guilty for being Steve Carmack's son. If you don't understand what I mean by that, ask me.

So I've made some decisions over the past few weeks. Not that they mean anything, because knowing me I'll change my mind again in a semester or two, but for now here's the plan.

I will not finish the church music program at Baylor. Instead, I will change to a Bachelor of Arts with an emphasis in music. What this does for me is remove the "performing ensemble" requirement from my degree plan and thus removes me from a great deal of music-school-politics. It removes the recital attendance requirement. It removes one of the music history classes as well as the Piano IV requirement.

It adds a few classes that even out the courseload and leave me with the same number of hours to graduate, but that's where the other part of the plan enters.

When I am two semesters away from graduation with my BA Music degree, I will apply for admission to the Business school. The core classes I will add with my BA will round out my admission requirements. I will then enter either the Economics or the Finance department and will be only 15 hours away from graduation with one of those degrees.

Thus, I will graduate from Baylor with both a BA and a BBA. Two seperate degrees. And it will only add two more semesters to my undergrad than I had already planned on. From there I will likely go to graduate school for either Finance or Economics.

Why do I want to do this? Because I want to work for Legacy Bank.

So why the music degree? Because I can.

72 hours and a semester in Costa Rica to go. Works out to three more years at Baylor if I don't overload myself. I think I can handle that.

Listening to - Joyful by the David Crowder Band

Today, I woke up at six thirty in the morning to the very sudden and very violent realization that my body was deciding to reject the pizza I had for dinner last night. So I went through the rejection process, looked at the clock, and knew that it was entirely too early in the morning to be sick. So I went back to bed until ten.

I decided that I would take advantage of all of the spare time I had today and take a very long time getting ready to go out into the world. I took a bath rather than a shower, I combed my hair all nice-like and then I stayed in my room long enough to let it airdry while reading some online journals. It looked good. For that brief moment, I was sexier than Matt Damon. Or Danny DeVito. But then I stepped outside, and the "poof" my hair made as it went back to poofiness could probably be heard in the lobby of my hotel. Rats.

Anyway, I wasn't feeling very "appetitious" (or "hungry" for those who don't understand made up words), but I figured I should try to force myself to eat something anyway. I went to a little Italian bistro, and even though I felt very classy I still could not bring myself to eat. So I thanked my waitress anyway, paid, and left.

It was shortly after this that I found the photo gallery.

I had never heard of Thomas Mangelsen before today, but I am glad I've heard of him now. There was some amazing stuff in this gallery... I was in awe. If I didn't have tuition to worry about, I would have bought one of the larger-sized prints of one of his bear photos. Or maybe the one with the rainstorm over the mountains... that one was cool. Or the great grey owl in Minnesota. You see my dillema?

Anyway, I found a poster that was a mid-quality reproduction of one of his bear shots and bought it for dad for father's day. This one:



The caption reads "Life's a Bear." I figured it would make a good start on decorating his new office. It's pretty massive, though, so I called Lorie to let her know to start looking for a frame.

Only a couple more hours before I leave for the stadium. Yippee.

So here I am in Omaha. Wooooohoo for insomnia!!

Anyway, my hotel is right in downtown and all of the bars/pub/lounges/clubs/late night coffeehouses are only a couple of blocks from here, so I decided I'd go check it out. While doing this, I made three mistakes.

1) I walked into the bar that was poorly lit that had loud techno music playing. Why was I drawn to the techno music? Because Kansas (where I had spent most of my driving day) has only three kinds stations: Talk, country, and contemporary Christian. Finally hearing a strong beat that made me want to nod my head in rhythm drew me in like a fat man encountering his first Krispy Kremes. The bar turned out to be a Coyote Ugly wannabe-type place, where they had their "hot" (no) female bartenders dress in very tight clothing in order to attract loads and loads of single desperate men who think they have a shot with said "hot" (no) bartenders.

2) I was genuinely friendly to the "hot" (no) bartender. I ordered my Long Island iced tea, looked her in the eye, and smiled. So she gave me some extra vodka in my drink. Given that I have minimal (at best) experience with alcoholic beverages, I knew that extra vodka would be exactly something I wouldn't want. But it was too late; she had poured the drink, and winked her wink, and I was left to let it sink. Golly, I'm clever.

3) In my desperation to get out of there, I drank my long island iced tea entirely too fast just before remembering that I hadn't eaten in about nine hours. But I was not (yet) feeling any sort of effects at that point, so I chose then to stand up and leave.

I walked about a block over to a coffee shop where I heard some funky R&B music playing. I stepped inside too late to notice that doing so made me the only white person in the room who wasn't wearing an apron. But I was commited at this point, and I knew I would need some caffeine very shortly, so I went ahead and got myself a mocha. I sat down just as I was started to get a little lightheaded.

I listened to the music, which was really quite good, and chugged my coffee. By the time I was halfway through the cup of coffee, I realized I was moving to the music while sitting in my chair. Nothing too embarrassing, just nodding a little bit while making a weird face and closing my eyes. I stopped, but it was too late; I'd been spotted by the lady on the other side of the couches. She laughed. The loud kind of laugh that reminds me of movies like "Beauty Shop" and "The Bar-B-Q." Not that I've seen those movies, but I was reminded of them. So I finished my coffee, tipped the band, and left.

Well, I say "left" as though it were one smooth motion. In reality I stood up, looked down at myself, looked at the band, looked at the laughing woman, looked at the coffee bar, looked outside, looked at myself again, then the band, then myself, then my back pocket, then my wallet, then my money, then the money jar for the band, and then the money I decided to put in the jar, and then the door, then myself again, then I started to walk out.

It was then that I knew I would not be having anything else to drink tonight.

So I went by a pizza place that was still open, had a nice filling meal and a pleasant, coherent conversation with my waitress as the effects started wearing off, and then walked back to the hotel. And that pretty much brings us up to date. Not the most interesting nor is it the funniest "night on the town" story you will ever hear, but it is the only one I've got. Huzzah and all that jazz. Tomorrow is baseball. Hooray baseball.

Listening to - Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day

Stolen from Phil:

Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band:

Five Iron Frenzy

Are you male or female: Kitty Doggy
Describe yourself: All That is Good
How do some people feel about you: It's So Hot (I'm Gonna Have a Heat Stroke)
How do you feel about yourself: At Least I'm Not Like All Those Other Old Guys
Describe where you want to be: Oh Canada
Describe what you want to be: Most Likely To Succeed
Describe how you live: The Greatest Story Ever Told
Describe how you love: Something Like Laughter
Share a few words of wisdom: You Probably Shouldn't Move Here

In the past two weeks, I have been to these places in this order:

Hinton
Marlow
Duncan
Marlow
Duncan
Hinton
Duncan
Waco
Duncan
Hinton
Frederick
Duncan
Oklahoma City
Hinton
Oklahoma City
Weatherford
Hinton

In the next week, I will go to the following places, in this order.

Binger
Omaha, Nebraska
Binger
Hinton
Elk City
Hinton
Elk City
Hammon
Elk City
Hammon
Weatherford
Hinton

SWITCH TO LEGACY! WOOOOOO!

http://www.switchtolegacy.com

I went to a funeral today. A funeral for Joe Lutz, a fifteen year old high school student in Hinton who was to be next year's co-Drum Major for the marching band.

When I wrote my entry on Sunday, I had forgotten a few things.

When I was a senior in high school, Joe's older brother Ryan played baritone in our marching band. So Joe, who was in sixth grade, always knew when the marching band was supposed to be at the field.

So every Friday night, Joe dutifully showed up at the same time as all of the high schoolers so that he could watch us practice before the games. After we were done with our pre-game rehearsal, Joe would walk up to anybody who would look at him and ask, "Can I help? Can I carry your case? What can I do?"

He was an eager guy. And because of that, he always got a great feeling of joy when he would get to carry fifteen instrument cases from the practice field to the bleachers. On more than one occasion he even carried the drum major stand for Josh Buxton and me. And it was always with a smile on his face. I'm sure he embarrased the tar out of Ryan, but I'm equally sure that this probably didn't bother him that much.

Joe was my brother Josh's best friend. They only started spending time with each other just before I left for college, so I never really got to see them interact. From what I'm told by my dad and Lorie, Joe's encouragement of Josh is part of what has given Josh the strength and confidence he needed to make it through his first year in a new school where he didn't have any friends. No small feat for a boy who was only fourteen at the time.

I thought I was going to be fine about all of this. I don't often wear my emotions on my sleeve.

When I went to the funeral today, which had to be in the school auditorium rather than the church (due to the large number of people who had come to remember Joe), I began to feel... shaky. Not nervous, just shaky. I looked onstage and saw that my dad was up there with Scott Hamilton (pastor of First Baptist Church of Hinton) and Dwayne Pate (youth minister). I hadn't known that dad was going to speak.

Several people got up to say things about Joe, and while that was hard for me, I never really got past that "welling up" feeling you get when your emotions start running on overdrive. It was when dad got up... oh goodness...

Now, you have to understand, I have never seen my dad express any emotion besides love, disappointment/anger, or sarcastic humor. I have never seen him cry. When dad began to speak, he didn't break down, but I definitely heard him start to lose control a couple of times.

I lost it.

If I had been alone, I would have been wailing. All I could think about was how wrong it all was. I know that Joe is a heck of a lot better off where he is now than when he was here, but dammit, EVERYBODY liked this kid. What happened on Sunday caused a beautiful person to be taken from this world before he even had the chance to show how much better he could make the place. I wanted to find a quiet room and bury my head in a pillow so that I could sob until I just didn't have anything left. But I had to stay, and I had to stay composed. So I just held my breath and let the tears flow. God, this isn't right.

Josh was one of the bearers. A fifteen year old kid should never have to carry his best friend's casket. There should be no caskets for fifteen year olds.

I saw men cry today. Big men. Strong men. Men who I thought could remain stoic through any tragedy faced by the world. The kind of men who would stand like rocks if they were facing the devil himself. I happened to see Nathan after the service; his eyes were red. I looked at Josh. I lost it again. Nathan almost did too.

On the way to the cemetery for the graveside service, "My Father's House" came on the radio. Joe's favorite song. Once more, I lost control. That song is just too danged appropriate for today.

There was love everywhere today. Nobody was petty. Nobody fought. Everybody just wanted to let everybody else know how great Joe was.

Joe would probably wonder what all the fuss was about.

Listening to - All That I Have Sown by Bebo Norman

Joe Lutz, I didn't know you very well, but everything I knew, I liked.

You'll be missed, buddy.

Wow. It's been a long two weeks (and a few days).

I'm working in the drive through teller area right now, and it's not busy in the least. For some reason, Blogger isn't filtered by the Websense box and therefore typing here does not count against my sixty minutes of "Personal Time" that I'm allowed on the internet per day. And so I here I sit, blogging like a madman between phone calls and customers.

I've spent some time reading other folks' online journals, just because I've been thinking about my Baylor friends in the past few days. And I've noticed a major fundamental difference in small town life and university life. At Baylor, people get mad at each other. Not that people in Hinton don't get mad, it's just that people at Baylor get nasty about it. The things people do to each other and say about each other... they can destroy somebody. I'm not at all saying I'm above any of it, because I've been just as guilty of it if not more. I've spent three years in Waco with only the occasional return to Hinton (never more than a day or two), and it has had a detrimental effect on who I am. I am mean. I am spiteful. I talk badly about people who have done nothing to me. I make attempts to obliterate people who have done something to me. And I do it all with a smile on my face and a song in my heart; there is something horribly wrong with that picture. This kind of thing, for awhile, was fun for me. That is awful.

I've now returned to Hinton, where people remember me as the person I was in high school. Kinda nerdy, a little strange, but in general a pretty nice guy. Nobody here knows me all that well; most older folks know me as "Steve's boy (the younger one)" or "the banker's kid." People still in high school or those who are freshly graduated know me by association, they know who I am and for the most part what I do, but ninety-five percent of the people who encounter me have never had a deeper conversation with me than "Hi, how've you been, what's your major, when do you graduate, have a nice day." These people like me. Not because I've never done anything mean to them or because I've done something nice for them, they just like me because they're good people who like other people. I don't have to earn a smile, because by golly it's just what you do. Now, this isn't the case all of the time; there's the occasional angry teenager or grumpy old person, but for the most part the above description is a good summary of my personal encounters with the people of Hinton.

This will have an effect on a person. I've noticed that I don't have to force a smile when I say hello to people anymore. I just smile. I never noticed that I was forcing until I didn't have to anymore, oddly enough. But it's a good feeling. I like it here. Not so much that I don't want to return to Baylor, I'm just glad that I'll be returning instead of simply being there.

There is drama in Hinton, of course, just like there is everywhere. It's just that here it's so much more short-lived. And harmless. People get pissed at each other, but they're just as likely to forget about it by the next day as they are to say anything about it. But if they do say anything about it, it will be to this chain of events (occasional ommisions or additions occur, but the end result is usually the same):
1) They talk to their good friend, just to make sure they're not being ridiculous for being upset about whatever it is that's causing grief.
2) They ponder how best to say anything to the other person.
3) If they haven't forgotten about it already or had sufficient time to cool off enough not to care, they'll say the person, "Hey, I'm pissed. What's up with [blank]?" (obviously a paraphrase; edit as you please)

I suppose the reason for this is that Hinton is too small for people not to like each other. You don't have the option of simply not seeing somebody or avoiding them, because that would create way too much of a change in how you do things. You can't stop going to church just because you don't like somebody in the youth group. And once you're there, you will encounter this person. Same story with school. So when there's crap, you deal with it. It's the only option. People don't stew, because it just makes things worse.

I stew. Or rather, I have stewed (the word "stew" just lost meaning for me; too many consecutive uses, I reckon). Not about things here, but things at Baylor. When nobody in K-Psi called to ask why I didn't make it to retreat, I let it get to me. I let myself become glad I wasn't able to make it because I convinced myself that everybody in the group thought I was little punk and that they couldn't stand me. I imagined conversations around the campfire of people saying they were glad I wasn't there. But that was ridiculous. The fact of the matter is they were just having a good time where they were, and if they thought about my absence at all it was probably just in passing (ie, "Where's Carmack? Huh. Strange. Okay, next thought." kinda thing). When it came right down to it, my not being there just didn't affect anybody all that much. And that's really okay.

Nobody's out to get me. Not really. It's more accurate to say everybody is just watching out for themselves. Not in a bad, selfish way, they just want to be protected from the bad stuff. The drama. The breakups. The lying. The truth telling (but not the honest kind). There's a few people who feel like they have reason to dislike me, and they probably have a point, but in the end all they want to do is keep the bad stuff away from themselves. Sometimes they/I do that by pointing it in somebody else's direction; that's wrong, undoubtedly, but sometimes it's just so easy to justify.

To close us out, I have an excerpt from Damien Rice's "The Professor." This is off of his "B Sides" album, which is a much more raw collection of material than is his first CD ("O"). Don't tune it out, though; read it through and really think about the stuff being portrayed in his imagery. It's some cool stuff.

From The Professor (live version):

I don't know if I'm wrong, 'cause she's only just gone
Here's to another relationship bombed by my
Excellent breed of gamete disease
I'm sure when I'm older I'll know what that means

She cried when she should and laughed when she could
Here's to the man with his face in the mud
And an overcast play just takin' away
From the lovers in love at the center of stage

Lovin' is fine if you've plenty of time
For walking on stilts at the edge of your mind

----

It goes on. If you're intrigued, I enourage you to get on iTunes and downlod the song; but beware, it is not for sensitive ears. Like I said above, it's raw. But it's good stuff.

Okay, I'm out of stuff to say for now. I'm going to eat my lunch now before it gets cold.

Listening to - Speechless by Steven Curtis Chapman