Home

Emily Dickinson once said "where thou art, that is home."

Right now, I am in a place that is over 1,000 miles away from where I called home for 25 years. Where I am today is a place I feel is now familiar, but would I have ever guessed halfway across the country as true home? Will this feel that way everywhere I go?

South felt the same way. Like a stop. Home is a place called Harleysville, a place with so many Italian restaurants, you'd feel like you'd eventually get sick of it, but you simply never do. It's a crutch. That's just the way it is. My family and friends are there. 95% of the people I've ever known are there.

I've wondered when the new will feel like home. Not that I expect the stay here to be ephemeral, nor do I assume it to be fruitless, as I have forged some relationships, but none quite like home. It might come down to my own introversion, my own identity, forged back home. This Pennsylvanian feels like a foreign exchange student.

The customs of a fast-paced, transitory east clash with the customs of a slower-paced, more permanent midwest. I'm stuck in my ways, getting in my own way almost daily. I'm not used to this. In a way, I can't identify. I'm the yellow dot in a blue painting. You can tell I'm not from around here.

I will miss out on so much. I've missed out on a full family reunion. I've missed out on my old roommate's wedding. I've missed out on my favorite sports team's unlikely playoff run. I've missed out on cherished memories with my two Shelties back home. The reality is I won't have much time with them anymore. It breaks my heart.

That is home. That is the home I was so used to being in. The place with family, friends, and a cultural identity that I associate with. And right now, it's ripped from me in pursuit of a dream. Home continues on. Life without me isn't much different, I guess. Cogs still turn. Suns still rise. Socially, I am but a thought, but not a reality.

I will never live in Harleysville again unless I give up on the dream I have set out to chase. I don't think, on the surface, people understand the gravity of this sacrifice. I am as scared as I was months ago, to my core, about what all of this means. A chance for me to live, but a certainty that I won't be home. I'm no social creature, but I at least know that there is comfort to my identity back there.

I will see what tomorrow brings...because at this point, there's no other direction to go than forward. Home will be there as long as I live on this earth, of which I feel so blessed to live in the first place. I just want here to feel more like home, more and more. But maybe it always will be so ephemeral.

No one ever said the 20s were easy. I'm seeing exactly why that is.

Remembrance

I read a story today. It was about a little girl—a five-year-old child named Julianna Snow. Cursed with a terminal disease called Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, she will die. From the blog written about her by her mother, it seems she is one that is blessed with so much perspective.

"It's okay. God will take care of me. He's in my heart."

Blessed with such an unbelievable perspective in the face of something so monumentally tragic...a young girl who will never live out that life. No more than five years here, and that's it. It got me thinking a lot. It almost made me cry at my desk at work today.

It makes me glad that I've done what I've done. God forbid, but if it did end tomorrow, I've accomplished a mission I set out to do a long time ago. I did what the Disney movies always taught us to do: make our dreams come true. Lambaste me for my feelings of "main character syndrome," but what I've done hasn't come easy, and I am proud of it.

The choice to do anything is so monumental. Something as simple as choosing Cinnamon Life as a breakfast selection, or choosing whether to go to the hospital for a few more weeks of living, or staying home to die with dignity, at five years of age. The pain left behind. The suffering she must endure. It's enough to make anyone's heart break.

I've been kept up at night thinking about this wheel of progress that keeps us going through life. I look back at the things that made me happy before. Air conditioning, while playing Rollercoaster Tycoon for hours during the summer. That made me happy, in a time where happiness was hard to find throughout the school year. Summer was my escape, then.

Playing Halo (the original one, mind) on my friend's couch, in his cool basement. Going on any vacation, specifically to Ocean City, Maryland, every summer. Tradition, inherent happiness. It was, in its own little way, automatic. It felt like it would never end. Nostalgia has hit hard, now that those things are no longer here.

I'll be home for Christmas, but there will be no more family vacations in the summer. I'll be home to see my friends once a year.

Though, there is reassurance.

"What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose—all that we love deeply becomes a part of us."

That is a quote from Helen Keller, whose perspective on life dictates that we never let go of what we have done. Those we met, tasks we accomplished, failures we failed, successes we succeeded upon, they are us.

I've thought about those who have moved on. Those who have left things behind to keep going. Those who have found solace in their lives, even as early as 20 years of age. Engagements. Marriages. Families. Triumph, failure, perspective, perspective, perspective.

We are lucky enough to even be here, on this earth, here today. Earlier this week, I was perhaps 20 feet away from losing it all due to someone else's mistake. I'm fortunate to be here. All of my memories, successes, failures, and perspectives, intact. They have not left me.

Someday there will be tragedy. Someday, there will be choice. Someday, there will be an end. Our existence is predicated on some sort of perpetual lashing of fate. A fulcrum of emotion. Admonishment. Destitution. But light. I won't be caught always looking at the dark side of life. I've tried so hard to find the positive.

Is it fair that a girl must be subject to the annihilation of her own self at five years of age? Certainly not. But for those who have perpetuated her message, I thank them. For that perspective has allowed me to grow further. To keep on this path that I want to continue to traverse. To write the words that I feel compelled to write.

Remember where we have come from, and know that it is you. Know that in some way, you have made an impact. And you will. Even as small and insignificant as we might seem.

Starting Over

On December 31, 2014, I remember where I was. I had an appointment for my car. It was getting fixed for probably the ninetieth time that year. Life sucked. I had been battling severe depression, stuck at a job that paid me $25 per day, losing money at every turn, trying to turn this dream that I pumped so much effort into a reality.

I read this quote on that day from writer and lecturer Joseph Campbell:

"We must let go of the life we planned, so to accept the one that is waiting for us."

I could have lived the rest of my days in Harleysville. Or Lancaster. Or somewhere comfortable in a life that I knew with someone I felt I loved so.

I could have settled for being a nobody, stuck working for nothing, letting my dream fall by the wayside because I thought this is where I had to be. But one fateful day showed me that, no, you're not meant to be here.

You should be what you sought out to be.

It may not be easy. There will be nights where you wonder why, or you argue with those you love the most as to how to make it work. Stuck making $25, not being paid most of the time, you'll wonder what the hell you're doing.

And all of that was true. Soon, the sting of a year of failure began to fade. Things started to turn around. It took ambition, direction, and faith. Faith was the most important part of all of it. If you believe you're not meant for greater things, then you never will be. I believe that with every fiber of my being.

The first domino fell in May, right before my birthday. Lexington, South Carolina came calling. Baseball. A new opportunity, one that showed me that this wasn't a lost cause. This was something I could do, but I had to nail this. I couldn't show fear, or resistance. This was the beginning of a new beginning.

I worked days where I got up at 8 a.m. and went to bed at 4:30 a.m. the next day. And that was routine. My responsibilities were numerous. I remember walking into a meeting very early in the process, and I was mere words away from crying. Is this what normal broadcasters have to do? I couldn't believe it.

I had always heard it was a negative to be a "doer of all, and a master of none." Yet, any job I saw, you had to be. No excuses, ever. Either you were in it to win it, or you weren't.

I thought back to what it would mean if I kept going with this dream. I would miss out on a lot of things. I'd be the only person in my family to live far away. All of my friends back home would not see me very much at all, or maybe forget about me altogether. It wouldn't surprise me at all.

But I think back to that dark place a year ago. Feeling like a complete failure. Having something feel so comfortable, yet so flawed. It was bad. It was not what I truly wanted. I was disillusioned by my own mind making something into something it wasn't.

Once the Dubuque Fighting Saints came calling I knew that whatever direction I was put in, it was the one I needed to go. If hockey broadcaster was the future, this was it. And man, I'm relieved. I've hit step one of my journey in stride. Each step I've taken in this business I've felt so much more comfortable. Responsibilities are numerous, and sleep can be uncommon at times, but this is what I wanted.

There were times I thought that I didn't want to make other people mad because I achieved something I set out to do. That was the last thing I wanted, but I knew it would happen. You can get all of those likes, congratulatory messages, but I know the human nature behind it. I saw other people succeed early and couldn't help but feel that way too.

I also don't want to believe I deserve this, but I earned this. However, it does not give me a superiority complex. This is only more motivation to work harder.

And so I start MY life, as Jordan Kuhns, the journeyman professional, in a state I thought I'd never live in. Then again, I thought I'd never go to South Carolina, or even go to school in Lancaster...but I did that too. Maybe I should keep saying I won't do things...

Iowa, of all places. This is where it all begins, huh? 950 miles away from where it all began, and where it will likely never be again.

Bittersweet, but exciting, too.

Moving Away -- Jordan's Journey, Part I

Routines broken, new routines begun.

Things change so fast when you move away. No matter how temporary, adjustments to new life happen instantaneously. What once was "wake up whenever you feel like it," becomes "I must wake up at 8, or else I will lose my livelihood." The livelihood I have worked relentlessly towards for three years. To a fault.

Three years of "waking up whenever I feel like it," feeling like a lazy son-of-a-gun after such a successful college career, took its toll. There's only so many times you can prop yourself up after another failed attempt at making your life work. Another promising opportunity, shot down. You're not the right fit. Too bad.

There's only so many times you can say "I'm going to make this work," clinging to this dream you had from the start. The 17-year-old staring at his TV, defying all personality expectations to become something more than he was. "I'll be that someday," I said to my parents. "I'm going to do this."

Did I? Sure. "Go here, do that," was my schedule. Never anything full-time. When this opportunity came up, I had to take it, regardless of circumstances, payment, location, anything. I had to move away. Get away from the staleness that was my life. Constant reminders of a painful year. A relationship gone wrong. A dream failing before my eyes.

Now I find myself 650 miles south of where I was before chasing that dream again. There's some sort of inherent happiness in this state of South Carolina. The people here are happy. It's not like the cynical north, it's a joyous south. I can't tell you how many times I've heard people express their happiness so openly to each other. "We're so excited," they say. They have a thirst for life.

I find myself trying to rediscover how to be happy. Truly happy. Where if I say "I am happy," I really am. It's so easy to fake it. Anyone can put forth an edited version of their lives. Smiles that mean nothing. Adventures that crush you more than help you soar.

For the rest of my life, I know I will struggle with this teetering scale. Happiness isn't the thing that becomes magnified. It's the sadness. When you've known the dark side more, you seem to identify with it more. "Why do you have to be so negative all the time?" I'm sure positive people were happy children. Blessed with social skills. Comfortable with themselves. Oh, and not overweight. That always helps too.

Maybe by the end of all of this, I'll be as happy as these people in the south are. Happy with my new circumstances, the fact that my dream is back on track, and happy that I continued to make a difference.

I bought a whiteboard for my office. The first thing I'm going to write on the top is "Win the day." I may feel completely drained of all effort at the end of each day, but I will have strived to win. Just like I've worked hard to get here. I won't let that part of me go.

I'll prove you wrong.

Smiling

To put it lightly, life has been one hell of a struggle lately.

Consider it, metaphorically, an earthquake that shattered my world in a short week's time a few months ago. Turning 24 isn't all that it's cracked up to be in my world. For the rest of my life, I have to consider this time in my life either an absolute disaster, or a turning point. It's up to me to figure that out. Does this have a deadline?

Just when life told me to give up, stay in bed, keep failing...along with a lot of help, I fought my way out of that dark place. This is the second time I've had to cope with the darkness of depression. I've emerged out of the abyss with a smile—a pained, damaged smile, but a smile nonetheless that shines through with comfort and care that did not exist prior to this ordeal.

I thank my friends and family for putting up with me. They all deserve so much for doing that.

I've changed due to the circumstances. I have full control over where I want to go, what I want to do, and how I want to do it. No longer do I have to be held back by location, by conflicts, by anything. I'm beginning my process of moving on from so many things. In 2014, I have quit or moved on from everything I ever did or had in my life prior.

In the midst of no job, no relationship, and no prospects, I was down, defeated, and more than ready to just pack it in. Here I am, still smiling, still cracking a sarcastic quip, trying to help the people around me before I even help myself.

I've felt this internal, intrinsic change in my motivation. I want to be a true, genuine me—more me than I've ever been. When you're depressed, your mind tells you to be the farthest thing from you. It wants you to stay down. Stay in bed. Don't care anymore. Give up. Why even bother anymore if you're sad?

Why give up, though? I've never been known to be someone who is exactly the most positive, but I have found reasons to be positive. I met some inspiring people. I won the next-step-in-the-career war shortly after meeting these people. They gave me the ability to look myself in the mirror and say "Jordan Kuhns is worth something."

Do I still hurt daily? Yeah. Depression never goes away. It's just there. You won't understand until you have it.

When it's all said and done, Jordan Kuhns will show you that even when it gets bad, there is always a way out...through a good deed...through helping others, who in turn, help you. They listen. Care. Love. Appreciate.

I'll find a way, smiling, even on the days where it feels impossible.

Legacy

I've thought about my life quite a bit lately. I'm home alone pretty much every day, so it gives me plenty of chances to think about it. 

I remember my mind always trailed towards this notion of "leaving a legacy" in some way, shape or form in my life. Whether it was whatever child or children that come to be in my future family, or through the work I do, I have always been fascinated by this notion, and wondering how I could leave sort of imprint on someone, or a group of people.

I came across a series of videos from the vlogbrothers series--headed by author, vlogger, YouTube mogul John Green and his brother Hank. Some of these videos touched on that subject. John Green talked about how legacies are impossible, and in a sense, full of fallacy. At some point, your story and your work will be forgotten. Nothing is forever. Depressing, right?

Somehow I think he's wrong, but I could be wrong. I'm just a 23-year-old guy.

I've been a part of the Millersville community for six years now. I was a student for four of them, and now the voice, or one of its voices, of its athletic program, for four of those aforementioned six years. In a sense, I feel like an unknown, even through all of that. I guess I'm okay with that. Maybe Millersville isn't where I make my mark, if I'm to make one at all in this life.

Though, as an aside, I have always wanted to be the commencement speaker there. Maybe someday.

In large groups I've been a part of while in an authoritative position, I have always taken an individualistic approach. It will be impossible for me to know 100+ people by name, so I'd rather know ten of them well, and find a way to be an influence that way. But even then, I have no clue if what I'm saying even gets through. Who knows?

As I mentioned, I'm 23. In a month I'll be turning 24. People will tell you that you're still young, but you're already considered, and expected, to be an adult. Adults are usually thrust into positions of responsibility. It's hard to take on that responsibility so fast. I don't know about anyone else, but with that responsibility I feel like I have this obligation to do everything well.

I have this need to want to compete. To want to do everything 100% to its completion, to its absolute best. 

Do people even notice that? It would be stupid of me to turn to someone and just randomly ask "do you notice me working my ass off?" They'd probably say "I don't care, what you do is what you do." I remember writing so much about lacking inspiration last year, and perhaps that's it. We talk about being inspired by the so-called legacies put forth by hard work, but does that really motivate us?

If there's a story about someone doing awesome work in this world, I want it to inspire me. But it does not affect me. It doesn't make me feel any different. For some reason I'm only motivated by my own tunnel vision. By no means am I inherently self-centered, but for some reason, if it's something I can't comprehend, or relate to, or whatever, it won't affect me.

I think the only stories that can and do affect me are ones of kids who need to find their way, through ruthless opposition in their schooling years, to bloom into community leaders by the end of it. Perhaps people more fit to leave legacies than the ones we let do that anyway.

Will I ever leave a legacy? I don't know. I sincerely want to. Even if I made a difference in one person's life to want to work harder, to want to will their way to their dream, whatever that may be, perhaps that would be enough.

Or is that just a fallacy?

Ode to Anberlin

The first time I listened to them, I hated them. My friend kept putting Never Take Friendship Personal on repeat in Ocean City Maryland. That lead singer is annoying, I thought. How could anyone like this?

Sure enough it took me about a few years after that to enjoy that band called Anberlin, but I did. Eventually.

One listen to A Whisper and a Clamor and I was hooked. Another friend of mine sent me The Unwinding Cable Car. Powerful, meaningful music that never felt rushed or without intention. Each song had a meaning. They made sure to let you know that, too.

I fell in love with the album Cities around when I graduated from Souderton. So many good songs...Godspeed, Adelaide, Alexithymia, Dismantle. Repair., and of course, the ever epic Fin. Each song felt like it told a story about something very real.

My first year at Millersville University was the year New Surrender released. It was Anberlin's first foray on Universal Republic Records. I caught them presumably at the right time. They signed on to a major label. This was their big break!

New Surrender did not receive glowing reviews, but some of the songs on that album proved to be ever so life changing, however. It all started with the album's mission statement.

"We all come to the point in our life where we have to admit that we feel defeated, that something has conquered us. We must change, not because we want to, but because we desperately have to. We cannot take life in its current suffocating state, even to admit such desperation shows that we are feeling deserted, wandering the barren desert, a shell of our former selves. It is only up from here, it is impossible to sink any lower into ourselves or our circumstances. But we can be salvaged, a deliverance. No vice can stand, no fix can take. The thorn in the side can be removed, but you have to be willing to admit and surrender. Surrender your habits, your lifestyle, your past, your present, and your future. This is your new surrender. The new surrender. New Surrender."

My first couple of weeks at college proved to be difficult. Never felt like I knew anyone, or wanted to know anyone. It almost felt as if New Surrender was some sort of calling, or some sort of reminder that all would be okay with some sacrifice. That album came out on September 30, 2008. Perfect timing.

Songs like Breaking, Disappear, Younglife, Haight St. and Miserabile Visu changed the game for me. They felt like life in motion. Stephen Christian's mission statement for the album felt so real, and it was communicated in these songs. In every single one, someone had to give up something to resolve a situation.

To me, that's what made Anberlin's music so inspiring. It felt real. Organic. Beautiful. I'll get back to this. Forgive me, there's a lot to be said.

My iPod probably got sick of displaying Anberlin's album art. I remember when I had a last.fm account, no other artist came close to that band's dominance in my vernacular. I had listened to one of my favorites, Miserabile Visu over 300 times by itself. That song is six minutes long, too. Its Biblical references painted a surreal picture of the apocalypse.

"A man is coming in thirteen-one/to charm the daughters and the sons/scared for our lives I turned to your hand/hold this tight while we run...if we still can."

As Anberlin matured, I felt like I did as well, moving through life with their music as my muse. After my New Surrender CD looked like a lottery scratch-off from the amount of plays it got in my car, it was time for something new. It all started with the promise of something darker, more mature, and gripping.

"I feel like we're on the brink of something. Either world domination or destruction, but we're on the brink," Christian said of the new album on the horizon, titled Dark is the Way, Light is a Place in honor of Dylan Thomas' Poem on His Birthday. "This is the best record we could ever accomplish."

And with a superstar producer like Brendan O'Brien at the helm of this momentous undertaking, why not believe that? It was an atmospheric experience that never once left my car's CD player for months. I played it on repeat to and from school. If a relationship was faltering, Impossible was waiting for me like a friend.

Take Me, Closer, Art of War, each one of them felt like life in motion. Pray Tell especially, reminding people to never hide from the people who care most by being fake. This album was my companion. It felt like a friend, ready to give advice and comfort, like friends do.

Two years later, it was Anberlin's next shot, on an album called Vital. This album sought out to find what truly inspired us in an ever-changing world. My life changed when this album came out. My grandfather passed away, and their early release of Someone Anyone was the only thing that felt comforting in my life then.

Perhaps it wasn't even the material of the song, but more the driving riffs and Stephen's always soaring vocals that kept me calm and comforted.

Songs like Self Starter, Little Tyrants, Type Three, and God, Drugs & Sex just sought to understand how we relate to one another. It was organic. It felt real. Each one of them explored what made us tick in life. Someone Anyone had been inspired by the Arab Spring protests. It was current—fueled by actual events. Actual things. Actual feelings.

I could go on and on and gush about these songs, but there are some stories about this band that stick out to me the most.

After my first kiss, I had Never Take Friendship Personal in my CD player at the time, and A Day Late happened to play right away. Reminded me that those who once held a special place in my heart had no place anymore. They were day late friends. "We are who! We are who we were when!" Sorry. Had to.

I think some of my favorite memories came from when the band teased things. I remember when they released Disappear on their once-rather functional Myspace page. I jammed to that quite a bit. I remember when they released We Owe This to Ourselves and Pray Tell weeks before DITWLIAP ever came out. They were constant jams in Ocean City, Maryland.

I remember when they sent out 10 second teasers for Self Starter and the entire DITWLIAP catalog. I held onto them, wondering how these masterpieces would turn out. Most of the time I was in awe of their songwriting capability. I just repeated these teasers over and over again though, just listening to those driving guitars and Stephen's otherworldly vocal capability.

Perhaps my best memories came from seeing them perform live. I remember the day I learned that they would be visiting Millersville University along with All American Rejects and Taking Back Sunday. I bought a ticket right away, and bought my first shirt emblazoned with an eagle and the name of their fourth album, New Surrender.

And again, forgive me for being tangential, but that eagle actually means something too. Each member of the band has that eagle tattooed somewhere on their body in a show of solidarity as a band. Super awesome.

After their set of seven songs and after Taking Back Sunday had ended their set, I went out to the hallway. There, I found Anberlin's newest addition, Christian McAlhaney. He had tattoos all over his body—much of it in Hebrew all up and down his arms. I talked with him one-on-one for about twenty minutes about how much this group meant to me in my journey through life, and how much their latest record did for me.

He thanked me, and I hope he did what I told him to do...pass it along to Stephen. I don't know where he was at the time. I hope Pucillo Gymnasium was to their liking.

I saw Anberlin three other times live, all at Chameleon Club in Lancaster. Once, during the summer, I went alone during their headlining tour to promote New Surrender. The second one was their DITWLIAP tour, which I saw with a friend, and lastly, I saw them during Tour de Vital with another friend of mine (who happens to be my boss at work). Two of those three times I bought a shirt. I wear them all the time.

I remember passing drummer Nate Young outside their tour bus two of the three times. He was on the phone. I didn't want to bother him. Maybe I should have for at least a handshake.

When I graduated from Millersville, all I could do was listen to Younglife.

I wanna do it again.

I admit, I cried a few times listening to that song in the final weeks of my time as a student. Made me think back to all the elementary school memories, and how far away they really were... 

Funny enough, I remember Stephen did a Q&A on his Twitter account one day and I asked him about some added lyrics in the song Feel Good Drag. He actually responded to it, saying he wanted them just to be in the liner notes, adding that he "really didn't like that girl." Yikes.

I noticed Anberlin had some added lyrics to Miserabile Visu too, but they were never uttered. Stephen also ad libbed different parts of songs like Breaking, instead of saying "who do you want to forget" he would say "who are you out to forget." Little, subtle things like that got my attention and I asked the band about it on their Reddit AMA.

Stephen responded to me about that too, saying he just liked to ad lib live, and that it would crush him if I didn't like that. In fact, I like it so much I say that when I sing along...which I do shamelessly. You should see me when Impossible comes on. It's an entertaining sight.

Not only did Anberlin help me personally, but man did I abuse the hell out of it for school audio projects. Still do. I'm so glad we blast Someone Anyone at basketball games now. We all sing along up on the catwalk. Take a look sometime.

Oh, how excited I was when Vital was released that the band followed me on Twitter. They still do. They favorited the tweet with my review of the album. I originally didn't love it, but in typical Jordan form, I do now.

Weird that it took me this long to get to the point of why I'm writing this, but they are indeed done after 2014. I saw the tweet a few days ago that just had ANBERLIN.com on it. I knew they released albums on a two year cycle. This would be an album year, even though they had just released Devotion, which is a Vital special edition disc.

The video started with these words—

What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

I knew it wasn't good news from the start. A pair of crossed fingers encased in light show up first. The band members talk to the viewer about what made this journey so unbelievable. They talked about how they "enjoyed" traveling the world and "couldn't believe they made it this far." Past tense. I knew then it was the worst of all worst things to say.

Once Joey said "final album," my jaw dropped instantly. I couldn't believe it. There's no way. I instantly felt a hole in my heart. They're done. A band that had touched not only my life so heavily, but so many others too. I hope those who aren't fans now find a way to know about them now. 

I guess the best part in all of this sadness is that they have one more album left. They have one more set of songs to drive us into a frenzy. I look forward to this summer when it comes out, but at the same time I don't want it to come either. I fear for being disappointed.

I hate that this is going to be the last time that I take advantage of those early teasers. The personality behind the band members...Stephen's playful introversion, Joey's quiet brilliance, Christian's unassuming sarcasm, Nate's youthful exuberance, Deon's subtle humor...forget the other guys. This is Anberlin to me. Always was.

The day they announced their disbanding, I listened to Unwinding Cable Car shortly thereafter. I got emotional. I felt like I was losing five friends. Disbanding, the end of the line, no more songs to inspire...it's hard to take. Feels so small in the grand scheme of things, but they meant to help people.

I've gone around looking at message boards, tweets, and other introspectives, and I'm not the only one who felt comforted and helped by this band's efforts just to make music. Who could forget the laughs we had at Compound Lockdown? If you haven't looked that up or heard of it, please do. Just highlights the amount of fun they all had during this run.

So, one final effort, huh? I've been listening to them nonstop, and I figure all throughout 2014, I won't stop at all. Their new record might blow up in my CD player because I'll wear it out. I'm going to at least two shows this year.

I want to meet them this time around. I want to shake their hands, give them a hug and tell them thank you for helping me. Thank you for helping so many. Thank you for being a friend I thought I'd never have.

Here's to you guys...someday I'll hope they get back together, maybe release another album out of nowhere, or hope their side projects continue to burst through. I already can't wait for the new Anchor & Braille album.

I guess the best way to end it is to say, thank you. It all started in Ocean City, Maryland with dislike. Now it moves on to my life now, in total acceptance. I'll wait for your magnum opus, Anberlin. I'll love every second of it, because when haven't I?