Anti Climax!

Sorry for that cliffhanger ending. What, you didn't realize you've been suspended from the lip of a cliff all this time? You were. I'm not going back to Florida after, leastwise not yet.

Ten years earlier

Here's the deal. I stuck it to the man up at the Stanley as planned, packed up all my belongings, and left that overpriced mountain town in my Mazdan dust. During my "brief" stay in Parker I began searching hill and dale (of which there are none) for jobs in Florida. Nothing promising. Then I had this wise idea that I could prolong my summer in Colorado and remain in Parker with my brothers for a short time. It was all dependent on my not being able to find a job in Florida right away, and my being able to find a job in Denver right away.

No luck in Florida. And through a staffing agency here in Denver, I'm now employed full-time for the month of July. I'm working for a company called National CineMedia; they handle all of the advertising in the major theater chains. I'm basically a glorified secretary, save the glory. I sit in a cubicle and retrieve voicemail, then enter the data from said voicemail into a computer system. I prefer to think of myself as a professional sleuth. I have to fill in the puzzle pieces left (suspiciously!) out of the messages—things like addresses, zip codes, etc. I put the phone receiver to my ear and instantly become a detective, looking for clues wherever I can find them, and then searching the Internet high and low for answers to the diabolical riddles concocted by these hopeful advertisers of the big screen. It's thrilling stuff, really.

Oh, it's also really easy. I'm sitting here at work, listening to a film score and blogging. (Don't worry, Mom, I have permission.) It's a real treat to have this job, and it should enable me not only to survive out here, but also to put away a little of the old dough.

Wait! What was that sound? I thought I heard a door open upstairs...

What will happen to our favorite Search Engine Sleuth? Tune in next month for the thrilling conclusion!

Gone too soon.

Two things have come to an end: the short life of Michael Jackson, and my brief stint at the Stanley.

I will say nothing about the former, except that I have been an ardent fan and admirer of Jackson for almost ten years. I always maintained his innocence and gave him the benefit of the doubt in almost every situation. I felt sorry for him. And, of course, I loved his music. It made me a little sick when I heard he died so suddenly, so young.

Regarding the second: I was involuntarily removed from the tour department and reassigned to the cafe. I chose the anti-establishmentism route and quit altogether. There are reasons aplenty for my decision besides just a desire to "stick it to the man" for dropping me in such a tactless manner. As a newly engaged man, I have this novel urge to be responsible and start saving for my future. Increasingly, my very bachelor summer in Estes Park began to feel more and more frivolous and impractical. I enjoyed my two months living there and all of the accompanying perks. Getting kicked out of Tours was just the camel that broke the straw's back, and I am shipping back out to the sodden marshlands of Tampa.

I've already begun the tedious expedition of job hunting, and hopefully I will be able to line something up before I am cast into debtor's prison. As weird as it sounds (to me), I am looking forward to being back in that hellishly hot tumor on America—not, of course, for the weather or landscape. I am looking forward to earnestly starting down the path of my future: finding a job that will enable to support a wife, and beginning my preparations for graduate school. I think there is a lot that I can accomplish in Florida, and a lot God can accomplish through and for me. These two months have been a nice break, a relaxing breather. I love the Centennial State, and I've enjoyed this brief respite from the daily grind. But now I am eager to get back to reality (whoops, there goes gravity!), and to start making an honest woman of myself.

Back to Michael Jackson, briefly. In my state of mourning last night, I was listening to his music and going through old documents on my hard drive related to the King. I found this surreal sentence in a lengthy (and slightly embarrassing) letter I penned to MJ when I was 16:

The sun just won’t shine as bright when you die, and I hope that sad day won’t come for a long time.

I know most people can't relate to my defense of and fascination with Jackson. So be it. But suffice it to say, he meant a lot to me. I felt very sorry for him, and am more than a little stunned that he's gone—in his words, "gone too soon."

Captain Jean-Luc Picard: Engaged.

In my nerdy, faux-Trekkie brain I've been wanting to make a Picard "Engage!" pun for a long time. But I had to actually get engaged first. So I did.

I flew into Pittsburgh a day earlier than Alison expected me, which required a good bit of lying and manipulating (good practice for marriage) beforehand. I took a taxi to her house, but of course she had just left to run some errands with her mom. I made a (brilliant) story about having sent her a package and expecting her to get it anytime now in an effort to lure her back homeward as soon as possible. When she pulled up to her house, there was I on her front porch with rose in hand, shooting the breeze with her Pepe.

We enjoyed each other's much-missed company for the duration of the afternoon, and then I took her to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse for dinner. I very straightforwardly brought up the question of marriage, and within the context of a very normal, calm conversation "popped the question." Sorry; no monkeys, hot air balloons, or robotic quadrapeds were involved in the proposal in any way.

Of course she said "yes," otherwise I would not be recounting this tale. Instead I'd be halfway to Siberia by now, with only the clothes on my back and an insatiable thirst for revenge.

Other than just basking in the euphoria of strutting about town with a be-ringed fiancée, I have enjoyed various activities already during my time in Pittsburgh. We've eaten at several fantastic restaurants, spent time with Matt and Katie Harber, heard Mahler's "Resurrection" symphony, heard the Penguins win the Stanley Cup on the car radio, gone kayaking, and explored the woods near Alison's house with her two precocious twin brothers (who I have already clearly informed that I will be shipping off to reform school as soon as I marry their sister). Yet to do: more wonderful restaurants, lots of good dessert, cathartic piano playing, lots of walking, seeing Up!, and of course more basking.

When I return to Estes Park next Friday, I will begin guiding tours full time. I'm using this vacation week to compile as many bad puns as possible.

A thousand words are worth a picture.

I'm sorry for the total absence of images on this blog.

One of the items I'm missing this summer is a camera. I owned a cheap, primitive digital camera several years ago, but it has since gone the way of the Polaroid. I've had little to no "disposable income" since coming out West (forget the stack of vinyl records I've purchased...those are cheap), and a camera always seems to fall below food on the totem pole. Or isn't it above food on the totem pole, technically?

Anyway, if you want some photographic wonderment and variety on this sucker, I'm afraid you'll need to pony up the cash or the camera in order to make that dream a reality.

I had a wonderful coffee and breakfast with Herr Paul Greiwing yesterday morning. I was able to motormouth my future plans in a short window of time, and (I think) he was able to process all of the information. (I don't blame you if you were totally zoning out, Dad.)

Said future plans include, but are not limited to: I am seriously considering voluntarily going back to school next fall. And, as things are shaping up right now, I want to pursue a master's degree in music composition. I know many of you are scratching your heads right now (or chicken pox, depending). But after a delightful conversation with former Film Score Monthly contributor, and now all-around film music journalism hero Doug Adams, I am (nearly) convinced that I can marry my love for writing and music into one practical degree. Since my writing topic of choice is music, and I also enjoy doing a bit of composing, an education that will give me a much better understanding of the rules and regulations of music will be incredibly advantageous. Such a degree should also enable me to teach music (theory classes, private piano, etc.), and teaching has been rolling around in my head as a potential career for a while now.

Of course a lot can change in a year. This is purely theoretical at this point, but I have started researching a few schools and their music programs. We shall see what will come of this dream...

Tomorrow will be a full day of tour guide training. In other words: a piece of cake.

Go well.

Coffee Stain Birthmarks

I finally swallowed the last vestige of pride I had and purchased a Pirates of the Caribbean score.

For those of you who know me well, you know that doing so is almost as embarrassing as dressing up in full cowboy attire and going to a square dance. I have a love/laugh relationship with composer Hans Zimmer, but the whole Pirates empire is, to me, among the absolute dregs of filmmaking. And the scores have been, by and large, homogenous power anthem scores that are entirely indistinguishable from the vast majority of modern blockbuster scores...which is completely logical, since they are all composed by the same committee of clones.

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In news that some of you might actually care about, I was indeed able to get my current apartment rented by June 1. This came as excellent news and an answered prayer. It means that I can make a clean break tomorrow and not be obligated to pay any of June's rent. I will move all of my meager belongings to the Petersons' abode tomorrow and begin my new life in Estes Park. I've really enjoyed my current apartment, but the cons were just too large to ignore in favor of the pros. Fare thee well, Drake, Colorado.

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I interviewed composer Theodore Shapiro yesterday (we're building quite the rapport now), and tomorrow afternoon I'm set to interview David Newman. I can't describe how much I love my work with Film Score Monthly. It is absolute euphoria for me to be on the "inside" of the film music industry as much as I am - talking with famous composers on the phone, emailing composers, developing connections and even friendships with high-ups in the industry. And of course I love to write. I am very thankful for the many opportunities I am afforded as a volunteer contributor. ("I'd also like to thank my agent...")

Y'all have a nice day.

Elk Burgers In My Front Yard

I parked next to an elk.

Actually, the elk technically parked next to me. I was meeting with a nice older couple who have graciously offered to house me for the remainder of the summer yesterday evening. They were telling me about the wildlife they often see in their front and backyard (including the usual deer and coyote, but also the occasional bobcat and mountain lion), and minutes later—as they were showing me to the door—we saw the majestic, fuzzy-horned beast munching away at the grass next to the Jeep. A good omen, no doubt.

So yes, I will be moving in with a very nice family who I found through one of the churches here in Estes. They are an extremely nice couple who ran a home for delinquent children for most of their life. They have one son in the army, and one disabled son who lives with them. They’ve offered their guest room and complete use of the rest of their house—all for a price lower than I offered, and one much lower than my current rent. God has really answered my prayers.

They are a stone’s throw from main street in Estes (literally, I threw a stone and hit a store downtown). I will have a significantly shorter commute to work. Everything will be conveniently situated in town, as I originally hoped would be the case. I have cell phone service, which was a big deal for me. I will have the opportunity to be a blessing and to be blessed by a lovely Christian family. It should be a wonderful experience in all directions.

I gave my thirty days notice to my current landlady last night, who received the news very graciously. Technically I’m obligated to pay rent for the first twenty days of June, but she was very optimistic that she could find a renter by June 1, as many people had expressed interest in renting in June when she posted the rental earlier. That would be ideal, releasing me from any further rent obligation at this place and making my financial dreams at night much sweeter. Another thing to pray about.

Alison has been brainstorming about her career. I won’t divulge any details, as she’s still sorting them all out. But if your interest is piqued, you should give her a ring-a-dingle. I’ll just say two words: galactic and food smuggler.

I’m sitting in a laundramat again…which should be one of the last if not the last time this summer, since the Petersons (my future landlords/housemates/adopted parents) will let me do my laundry at their house. Another major blessing (I haven’t needed this many quarters since my trip to Vegas in ‘78).

I’m interviewing composer Theodore Shapiro next Wednesday. It will be a fun full-circle experience, as he was the first composer I interviewed since I came on board at Film Score Monthly.

Okay, bye.

My girl

I need to give some love where it's due.

My mind may sometimes wander off on tangents of barbecue and hives, but my heart is always squarely centered on a young lass in Pittsburgh. My perpetual obsession with said lass has not been evidenced in the content of my blogs, and it is to my discredit.

The truth is, I'm madly in love. It's fun being out in Colorado and all, but a big chunk of my heart has been surgically transplanted to the wilds of Pennsylvania. And it's hard to survive with a bleeding stump of a heart.

So I dedicate this post to the owner of my heart: Miss Alison Naomi Konrad. She is my better half, and the light in my eyes.

I will visit her, Lord willing, in a few short weeks, and it will hopefully cure me from total emotional insanity.