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?

Abandoned

I've grown this fascination over time with abandoned places.

Pripyat, Six Flags New Orleans, Disney River Country...go down the list, it's all so fascinating. That which is abandoned will always be stuck in time. It will only advance with nature trying to take its claim back. Specifically, if you look at pictures from Pripyat, where Chernobyl Power Plant was, all of their buildings, and specifically, this striking image, will always be stuck in 1986.

No one will ever ride that ferris wheel ever again. Only the wind will blow it about its way.

I came across a photo gallery today profiling my old stomping grounds--Souderton Area High School, my alma mater. Never exactly loved my time there, but I learned a lot there. I produced articles for our school newspaper, The Arrowhead. I played in six orchestra concerts there. I met good friends there.

Never once did I do anything there dealing with what I do now, but I graduated from there. Within that gallery, pictures of empty hallways in which TVs, chairs, desks and tables are scattered haphazardly. I didn't expect it to hit me so hard. I felt rather sad.

I remember when those hallways had life. A lot of life. That's where I first struck out with a romantic interest in what was affectionately called "The Knuckle." Top of the third floor stairs was where it happened. Remember it like it was yesterday.

We hosted a culture festival in Global Studies. I remember dressing nowhere close to our country in particular, but I don't even care at this point.

I remember Red Alert, the horribly produced show with many technical difficulties. I never cared about any of the after school events they talked about. I only ever went to one sporting event, and they lost. Amazing how things change. Now I can't stop going to sporting events because that's my life.

I failed my trigonometry final in that building, which still remains the only test I've ever failed in my life. My geometry test wasn't much better. I barely got through our endurance test in 10th grade phys-ed. In 12th grade, I dominated as a defensive specialist in dodgeball and floor hockey.

I spent many a morning in the library surfing the web during my senior privilege. I spent mornings with my friends at Dunkin Donuts...a Pepsi and a bagel with cream cheese--that order never changed.

I saw a picture of an engaged couple that met at SAHS. They jumped fences to get those perfect shots. They wanted that place to mean something, so it did. The old high school closed its doors a year after I was done there. I haven't crossed paths with that old building, but I bet if I did, I would go exploring.

I wish I could see what it all looks like inside. I wonder if my old locker has that same combination...I believe it was 15-31-1.

I'd love to climb into the old press box, envision Souderton's football team leading to victory, and my voice echoing throughout the place. The crowd would cheer. Alas, silence. Overgrowth surrounds the place. It's probably not safe anymore. Just sad silence.

Souderton has a brand new high school that I'm sure people love and are making memories for time to come. Perhaps the saddest reminder is that the old building still stands. Plans have been made and cancelled for its destruction or repurposing. Nothing has happened yet. It just sits there, alone, rotting, and without any purpose at all except to remind us of the good times.

Amazing how I talk so vehemently about how much of a bad time I had there, and how I was just proud to be a Millersville Marauder. On the contrary, these pictures reminded me of subtle little things that happened in that building that meant a lot. I hope everyone loves the brand new high school. I guess I'll always have a soft spot for this old abandoned one.