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.