Music

I want to focus. I want to narrow down the things I think about, the things I am paying (notice the verb) attention to. Such things are receiving my attention like money that I am paying to them. The question is, what am I getting in return for my "investment"? It seems as though the broader the base, the larger the group of diverse items, that I pay my attention to, the less any of them can give me back. Another way of putting it is that I can only pay a little to each one at a time; therefore they can't give me much at a time.

So last night, in the dark, I pulled out my little notebook, the one I consider "disposable," for short-term to-do lists, grocery lists, and the like, and wrote something a little more important in it. I will copy it below, for posterity's sake.

It's been ages since I posted at all in this blog, let alone posted anything of real substance. I've been meaning to make a post like this one for a while now. So... an update for those who I haven't communicated with otherwise:

• Last March (2005) Danielle and I decided to pursue adopting a baby girl from Ethiopia. We went through the home study, paperwork, etc., and traveled last month to Africa, first to Kenya to visit our friends in the Turkana desert for a week, then to Ethiopia for a week to pick up our daughter. You can read and see more about that on our website for her: miriamdesta.com.
• With Miriam in the picture, we realized more than ever before how much we want Danielle to be able to stay home all the time with her. But that requires me having a job that provides benefits (so Danielle could cut way back on her hours at the hospital). In addition, my boss shifted the direction of the company, so while he could have found enough for me to do, he didn't have the same absolute need for my skill set as he did before. Since his business is way too small (totalling three employees when I was there) to offer real benefits, he is actually helping me find a job that better fits the lifestyle Danielle and I are hoping to find--a job that provides insurance and other benefits.
• Along the way I discovered a content management system called Drupal that I used for miriamdesta.com and Hopwood's website. So I'm experimenting with how to move this site to Drupal at some point in the future. I have no idea when that would happen, so don't hold your breath.

Anyway, that's some of the more major developments in my life lately. Hopefully I get the Drupal transition taken care of soon, and then begin to use my website more than I have of late.

Do you care if any of my songs ever get on the radio? Does it matter to you whether or not I ever create professional-quality demos of any of my songs? Will you give me any grief if I just sit on my butt and never write another song, never do anything with the songs I've written, leaving them to collect dust for the rest of my life? Why do I ask, you wonder?

I'm toying with a theory that I am primarily motivated by helping others, doing things that help others do what God has called them to do. That being so, I am not motivated to pursue with any seriousness my musical "career" because it doesn't practically matter to anyone else. Sure, as Danielle pointed out, she's somewhat disappointed that I haven't created any professional-sounding demos, and she's proud of my accomplishments as a songwriter. But on the other hand, she wouldn't think of giving me a guilt trip for not doing more with my music.

Let me tell you a story...

When I was a kid, it was almost impossible for me to keep my room clean. Invariably, I would end up with a huge pile of my stuff in the middle of my bedroom floor. I would suffer because of it. Mom would give me a hard time, pressure me to clean it up. Dad probably did, too (though I don't remember that part so well). Nevertheless, it seemed I couldn't just go ahead and clean up my own living space.

What I do remember being a solution, more than threats of discipline, or privileges being taken away, or being grounded, or whatever, was Dad standing in the doorway. Now the picture you might get from that phrase might be one of domination, physical threat, or the like. But that's not what I mean. What he would do was to point to one particular item that needed to be put away. In my vague memory, I think I would often be already upset, probably because I should have cleaned things up, and was now in trouble for not doing so.

For the past six to ten months I've been trying to figure out why I haven't been writing songs. The last song I finished was around July of 2003, over a year ago. And I have to go back to around January of 2001 to find a time when I was writing with any kind of regularity.

The first major theory I had was that I was pouring my creative energies into my relationship with Danielle. We "met" (online at first) in July of 2001 and married almost one year later. And I think I was wise to make our marriage the main focus of my energies. But even Danielle agreed, after one, then two, anniversaries went by, that we had built a solid enough foundation as a couple, in our marriage, that it was important for each of us to rediscover some of the things that we used to spend our time doing or creating. Unfortunately, it hasn't been as easy as flipping a switch. I've tried different approaches (though not every possible one) to sparking my creativity anew, but so far to no avail.