The official website of the future father of Frank “Big Bird” Brewer. Watch out world.
Last night, Paris Hilton made a guest appearance on the Late Show With David Letterman. Dave asked her a slew of questions about what jail was like for her, and when she became uncomfortable with the questions…well, the rest is just beautiful. Watch for yourself:
“A hard-boiled egg and an orange? You can’t go wrong with that.” “Wouldn’t want to get scurvy now.” Hahahahahahahahahahaha.
If Letterman was like that every night I’d stay up to watch his show.
I’ve really been thinking about this “Everybody Has A Story” theory that I posted about a couple days ago and what I can do to extend it.
Ever since I hit the Publish button, my mind has been going crazy. Shoot, I even began to wonder about people driving around me on the James River Freeway on the way to work yesterday.
The same question I asked a friend over the phone last night has been eating at me for the past few days. How did your life and mine intersect?
It made me think. It boggles my mind that just five years ago, my entire social circle was completely different. People have come and gone over the course of my life, but I’m focused on the people who are interacting with me here in the present.
For some reason, traveling a road comes to mind. Take U.S. Highway 30, for example. Its western terminus is in Astoria, Oregon, but its eastern terminus is 3,000 miles away in Atlantic City, New Jersey. It spans an entire continent and passes through cities big (such as Portland, Oregon) and small (such as Kemmerer, Wyoming) on its journey. It also intersects and follows other routes along the way.
Take that same idea of Highway 30 and apply it to your own life. Life is a highway — it has a humble beginning, but it’s bound to end in a place so much different than where you began. The cities and towns are the trials you’ll go through in life, and the roads that the highway intersects with or follows represents the people you will come to know for any given period of time. Some come, some go, but their impressions will always be felt.
Contained in the story that everyone has, is the fact — and yes, I believe it is a fact — that at least one thing in your story will end up being a blessing to whomever hears it. That in itself is the most important reason everyone deserves to tell their story, and have somebody listen to it.
Good Lord, I want to write a book on this subject.
So on another note, and to close out this post, there are two tracks I’d like to share with you. The first is the original version of the Killers’ “Read My Mind.” I think it’s a brilliant track:
[audio:http://www.thebinster.com/flash/flash2/TKRMM.mp3]
And the second one is an audio snippet of a remix of the same song…I hope to get my hands on soon: the Pet Shop Boys (yes, that’s right, the PSB remixed the Killers!) Stars Are Blazing Mix. I love the additional synths and Neil Tennant’s vocal contributions:
[audio:http://www.chrislowe.co.uk/audio/killers_psb_stars.mp3]
Night, everyone!
I know I’m living with my family to save a bit of money, but I figured I need a couple of tech toys when I get the chance to buy them.
That’s right folks, the Apple iPhone and the Pentax K100D Super digital camera.
I’ve been needing to upgrade my digital camera for awhile in order to make some decent money shooting photos. I’ll start shooting pictures on a freelance basis to generate a second source of income…hopefully this idea takes off.
Also, I just want an iPhone. Enough said.
All hail my younger brother and only biological sibling. He has written something that struck me as hilarious on a MySpace bulletin today. It might not be hilarious to too many people, but if you’ve known Jason for any length of time and you can imagine him saying this out loud, it’s funny times ten.
From a MySpace bulletin he wrote entitled “QUIT DOING DUMB SURVEYS”:
Hey people, do you realize nobody cares what kind of cat you have, who you called last, or what you ate at McDonald’s last time? Please, stop the madness and quit filling out stupid surveys that nobody reads. They clog up the bulletin board, and I can’t tell which one’s are real posts. So please, STOP THE MADNESS!
I see shades of my writing style in him. Jason Brewer has earned himself 25 Brewer Bucks for writing something that is not only true, but also strikes a chord in my heart.
The Brewer Bucks Leaderboard is as follows:
1. Jason Brewer, 1465
2. Brian Taylor, 1150
3. Evin Pace, 1005
4. Kevin Twitchell, 940
5. Myself, 885
*You too can earn Brewer Bucks if you do something good for me or are just cool. Comments on my blog earn you five Brewer Bucks each.
Read Romans 8 and tell me what you think.
I’ll check any and all responses when I return from work.
…there’s still some things that I have a tough time dealing with.
The major thing for me right now is that I’ve been here a month and I only have a couple friends.
Yes, I have great working relationships with everyone at church, but I only have a couple people at my own age level I can really hang out and spend time with. And that doesn’t even happen too often.
I’m not crying, I’m not complaining, but it’s really tough when you’re expected to enlarge your social circle without any help from the friends you do have.
I know I’m supposed to be here in Springfield but my life is rather monotonous and boring at this point. God’s done great things for me, but it would be cool to have some people to share that with.
Suddenly I know exactly what Jason must have felt like during the majority of his time here.
Etienne de Crecy’s track “Am I Wrong.” Apparently the music video is made by his brother Geoffroy. Dad and Jason, you’ll remember this one from when I visited back in Oregon in ‘03.
Funny that the lyric sample for the song repeats “Am I wrong to hunger…”
Growing up, I remember watching the CBS Evening News and I always enjoyed a segment entitled “Everybody Has A Story.”
In this feature, Steve Hartman would throw a dart at a map of the United States, and would travel to wherever the dart landed. Once in that town, he would open a local phonebook and select a resident at random…someone whom he hoped he could tell the story of.
Once he found someone, his camera crew would document him following the person around as they showed their house, personal effects, and items of interest. They would sit down for an interview in which they would share their life story with Steve, and it would all be edited for time into a four or five-minute feature piece to close out the CBS Evening News every Saturday night.
I don’t watch the news much anymore, much less CBS News — but my mind wandered back to the “Everybody Has A Story” segments while I was sitting in church tonight.
Pastor John had given the altar call, and there were a few up front praying. I finished my prayer at the bench and started to survey the room when I had a million thoughts run through my mind. I began to take an intent, albeit brief, look at each person in the sanctuary.
Nick. Shauna. Evin. Hannah. Molli. Benita. Angie. Jody. Ryan. Ted. Shawna. Dustin.
I took a mental snapshot of each person and began to wonder, I wonder where they come from. How did they reach the point in their lives that they decided to settle in Springfield? How did our lives intersect so we can be standing in this room at this moment in time? What led to this moment? How did they find Jesus?
You see, everyone in this life has a story. From myself — growing up in the Pacific Northwest, following the road of life, falling hard and getting up — to every single person I come in contact with. Everyone.
Not everyone gets a chance to tell that story. Some haven’t had anyone to listen to their story. Others don’t want to tell it because it brings up pain and hurt. Still others may simply feel like their story is not worth telling because there isn’t much to it.
I, for one, want to hear everyone’s story. It’s worth my money, as little of it as there is. I want to listen to someone tell me how they got to where they are today. I want to listen to how they found the Lord. And to cap it all, I want to listen to, as stated before, how our lives intersect at this point in time.
On my first visit to Crimson House in October 2005, shortly before I deployed to Iraq, Pastor John had the church pray for me. I still remember the prayer to this day — that the Lord would keep me safe, and that most importantly I would have a story to tell.
I’ve told that story over and over, and now I want to turn around and give someone else an opportunity to tell theirs. Just by listening to someone you can not only get to know them so much better, but it also provides for a special personal connection which builds confidence and trust.
Everybody has a story.
What’s your story? Hit me up, and I’ll sit and listen. I’ll even buy the coffee.
It’s what I came to Springfield for, after all. 
I was rummaging through my belongings today while cleaning out the backseat of my car, and I happened upon a box I had sealed and marked IMPORTANT.
I must have Alzheimer’s disease, because I forgot why exactly I labeled that box as such…so I opened it up and found every citation for every medal I received during my time in the military. Needless to say, the medals themselves were also in the boxes and I began perusing each item, and read it over.
In my mind, the images of each medal ceremony played through my mind like it was yesterday. I remember receiving my first medal, the Air Force Achievement Medal, at Lajes Field in 2004. Then I was awarded the Joint Service Achievement Medal and Iraqi Campaign Medal upon completion of my tour in Iraq last year. And to top it all off, my highest award was the Air Force Commendation Medal when I separated on November 15, 2006.
I put everything away nice and neat, and something dawned on me. You see, these medals and the pieces of paper that accompany them are personal achievements. My awards for something I did.
My prayer over the past week has been for God to make me more humble and to be more unselfish. I want to be more willing to give, and help those in need.
So as I kept cleaning my car, I wondered: I received these awards, but for what? Did anyone benefit anything by them? Did I lead someone to Christ? Did I give to the poor?
The answers to all those questions is nothing, no, no and no.
Jesus commanded us in Matthew 6, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”
These awards — these finely cut pieces of metal affixed to ribbons — will someday deteriorate and go away. Can’t take those with me to heaven. But I sure can take somebody with me.
Wouldn’t it be nice if our time was better spent reaching the lost where they’re at, instead of always striving for self-advancement?
Awards are nice, but in the grand scheme of things, they never helped one person.
It’s time for me to do the real work assigned to me in this life — work that carries no earthly reward. But the eternal reward sure rocks.
I heard this song at work today by Electric Light Orchestra and played it a few times tonight. The melody is addicting.
I turn to stone
When you are gone,
I turn to stone.
Turn to stone
When you comin’ home?
I can’t go on.
Gotta love it. Here, take a listen.
[audio:http://ironduke.net/tekkbabe859/ELO - Electric Light Orchestra - Turn To Stone.mp3]
Oh and by the way, the Crimson House youth group, Youth R.O.C. is having a car wash at the Dillon’s at the corner of National Avenue and St. Louis Street. Stop on by if you’re reading this and you’re from Springfield. It’s on a donation basis so donate liberally — it supports our upcoming December youth lock-in.
I wonder what R.O.C. means anyway. Since they’re a youth group, I’m going to take it to mean Really Old Children.
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