So tomorrow I brave the treacherous battlefield of PDX, and hopefully return safe-and-sound at Denver International in the early afternoon with just enough time to bring in the New Year. 2007 seems like an exciting year already - dreams and aspirations fueling my perseverance and determination. The endless roads of where my life could head in the next few months is almost too much - "it's enough to make a man explode". I just have to take a deep breath, keep my eyes open, and remember to go with the Hoppus. Oh yes, 2006. You were quite the comedian.

Since I will probably either be too tired or far too deep into the celebrations tomorrow night, I will be dedicating this double feature of a blog to old man Time and anyone who survived this last chaotic year. Imagine it now: The marquee reads "ONE NIGHT ONLY" and spotlights etch across the starry sky. Thousands upon thousands flock to the velvet red carpet to reserve their seat for the greatest show of the next year: 2007! The two-thousandth and seventh year since somebody claimed a beatific infant was brought into the world aside three wise men and an assortment of barnyard animals! This calls for some sort of celebration! We've created a holiday and stolen a calendar system from the Romans! The world is blessed!

As joking aside, the lights lower and the curtain goes up on the events of your past year. A movie clip montage from the Academy Awards of the good, bad, and terribly anarchistic moments of the past year! Mine would display as follows - using a simple list and some generic keywords:

Champagne from a paper cup, white lights over bare branches, letters from a long lost love, a mix tape and hot tea on my bedroom floor, writing beginnings but never endings, a black hat and a trip to Wendy's, linguine and passion, Topper Revue and 'Kings Of The Land Of Crunk', a state wide trip fueled by Christopher Walken and The Alan Sparhawk Project, the final days of Olions, so freed the chains of Los Alamos High School, my imminent defeat, traveling across the country, Kings at Ian's, Panic! At The Phix, playing on a run down guitar at the "Hot Monkey Love Cafe", drunk concert goers and cries of 'Maaaarrrrrbbbbbllllleeeee....', tapioca balls and strange looks, Happy Hollow and too much Katamari, Friday The 13th for the Nintendo Entertainment System, Godspeed records and doorbells on back doors, and an exhausting trip...

The Diner and the sounds of 'socials' from Miss Casey, letting go, falling victim to some sick cosmic game, a gigantic step forward into Colorado, elusive Comcast buildings and Byron, Cursive live, drunken Uno and resulting delirium, Patrick Swayze, multiple coats, Boulder and Marb at 5 AM, stuck in the snow, a fateful day, may Kasher be with you, the degradation of my sanity, Jean's tattoo, the Plus 44 show, long days and some Spicy Pickle, meeting the one-and-only Lexi, a 'sexy party', Regina Spektor and my family in Oregon, and then...

With an epic crash of cymbals, the music cuts short. And then? And then what? What will I find in this next day? What will I experience when I wake up and go on with my life as I have been doing for the last three-hundred-and-sixty-five days? Everything. Nothing has been left out. I will watch the New Year come and go with the same sweet nostalgia - the same blinding sparklers - and the same pop of champagne. This 'new beginning' will undoubtedly...begin. Just like planned. Time will continue it's endless march. I will not be different, nor the same come midnight tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will know that much more about the world. Myself. My life. I will know that much more about the people around me - the frivolities and drunken inconsistencies aside. I will know that much more about how I feel about...everything. How I feel about these new songs....how I feel about Thea...how I feel about being able to always start a Chapter One but never, ever finish.

This must be it. Welcome to the New Year.

Well, I'm here in my family's apartment for another day - the continuing joke that is the Denver International Airport and the smiting of God's snowy hand upon it has left me deadlocked without point or purpose. I will probably be returning to Denver the day after next; hopefully the apartment is not/was not on fire. At least it's comforting to know that no one has released the creature. Yet.

I've had a lot of fun here in Salem, don't get me wrong. It was so unbelievably great to be with my family - spend time with everyone and get back to how I grew up. I love seeing my sisters - reciting fun movie lines, making stupid jokes, just being weird all-around - and I hope I fill my position of 'little brother' good enough for the time being. I love seeing my parents - I get to spend more time with my dad now because of his new job, and I think that now - after my senior year, graduation, band stress, and much more - my mom can relax a little bit (I'm such a fuss, I know). Also, being able to just sit alone and think to myself has been great. Just relaxing - watching movies, playing games, playing guitar and writing songs - all things I thought I could do back in Denver, but are so much different here. It's been a great time.

I do hope to return in time for a joyous celebration of the New Year, which I have decided in an off-hand sort of way is my favorite holiday. There's some aura that sparkles so slightly in that one night. The atmosphere is warm even when it's freezing. Whether it has been the somewhat crazy events of Fabry's annual get together - something about 'death sauce' and David Byrne - or champagne from a paper cup on a couch in Zac's shed - listening to Ryan produce loud, drunken sounds from his guitar and spending the last seconds of the year 2005 in the air. Whatever it is, the memory of New Years itself always compares to the mass accumulation of memories from the year before. It always sticks with me until the next year rolls around. It allows me to do what I'm doing right now - reminisce and swell with nostalgia.

Who knows where I will find myself at the end of this year? In the basement of my drummer's house discussing Freud and how humans open bananas wrong? Snowed in at my apartment with Tyler and Dustin listening to our perfectly selected soundtracks? Will I be spending the last draining seconds on the phone with someone...anyone...spilling my soul? In the immortal words of The Chemical Brothers...

"Where do I start? Where do I begin?"

Somewhere beneath a vanilla sky. Somewhere sitting on the couch between a girl I've never met and my grandfather discussing literature. I'll be back to playing croquet at lunch breaks and believing what I write. I'll find myself somewhere solving mysteries with Nancy Drew, or turning Japanese. I'll finally board those fateful clouds I spoke of in years past - the last liner to cross the starry expanse. I'll jump so high I never come down. I'll drag out the 'olde' record player and dance the twist and mamba to the sounds of The Beatles and Tim Kasher. I'll list inconsistencies and impossibilities with great ease - laugh at my own humor - and make a toast to that brand new day. I am so excited; I can't even express it.

We'll be dancing in the dark.

We'll be flying like trapeze artists.

We will not be afraid.

It's that special night - that night before Christmas that all the special songs and poems are written about. This is the night where, as a kid, I could never get much sleep at all. I'd be tired and sleepy, but my heart would keep pounding like a knocking at the door - "wake up, you idiot! wake up!". This was when I used to go to bed at nine o'clock. Now it is plainly later, and I still find myself awake - this time to the beat of the keyboard keys instead of my heart.

It's weird how many traditions have been abandoned in my family as I grow up. I don't feel disappointed or upset about it - it's just how things have progressed as I've gotten older. This year especially stands out from the rest - being in a new place completely. In years past, I would count down the days impatiently until Christmas. In newer history, I would exchange my loving remarks and gifts with Madeline. Now, Christmas just jumped upon me. Only forty minutes until that "big day". I used to yearn for Christmas break - pray for snow - wonder endlessly about those glistening boxes under the tree. Now, I pass the few days before the 25th walking around in overcast Salem, listening to music, and spilling my thoughts about love, life, and my mind onto this journal.

So many things on top of so many things. I talked to Madeline for the first time in a long time - expressing how much I missed talking to her, and remarking on how years past have definitely made a difference. I talked to Melissa for a short period of time - just called to ask her how she's been - I didn't even have the chance to wish her a happy holiday. I talked to Dustin today - just as he was waking up - but didn't get the chance to ask him how things were going and what he was thinking about. I've kind of isolated the majority of myself from the world - this about the biggest outlet I have at the moment.

I can not reveal my true nature until the time is right.

I guess all I'm trying to really get at tonight is...these holidays (whatever they are for anyone out there - Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Atheist Gift Giving Day, etc.) really have a way of changing us. In a beam of light - far from the gray cold of December days - we have opened ourselves to our friends, family, and loved ones. We allow ourselves to be molded even more in these few weeks than in most parts of our lives. I think Kyle said it best earlier tonight: "Don't just let tomorrow be your one day of celebration and giving...make every day that way!"

We don't really give ourselves the credit of celebrating our lives - we get these great (don't mistake me; they really are great) excuses to show how much everyone means to us, how much the world means to us, and how much we mean to ourselves - but we forget to even dance on the idea the other three-hundred-and sixty-some days of the year we're not celebrating one thing or another. Well I say, dance like it's already 2008! Give gifts in April! Drink to yourself for your birthday four times a year! Remember what it's like to be with a loved one - not just on February 14th - but every day you are with them! Do not take this time for granted.

We might not have a second chance.

Happy Holidays, Happy Christmas, and Love Always.

I have decided that I am going to marry Regina Spektor. I have no problem with believing this. Can anyone see a problem with this? Other than we've never met and a million other guys probably want to propose to her?

"We have seen how each and every second,
We must chain our hearts down.
Or else we will become ghosts,
Or beasts or traitors to ourselves."

I had both an illuminating and destructive conversation with Alexandra tonight. The conversation trailed in circles - leaving nothing untouched but also nothing fixed. I watched the final strains of my hope slip over the cliff's edge, and let go of the chain in my heart to let it sink down into the dark sea. I used to think that maybe we both held hope for the future - that this was simply temporary. That the pain of losing eachother's care - eachother's romantic relationship is a better way to put it - would be a short hiatus from a fantasy. Well, I was wrong on so many fronts.

She hasn't let go of me - she hasn't stopped caring - if I can't be anything more than her friend, than I can't be anything at all. She doesn't want to hope for a further relationship. She doesn't want to even think about us being together. She doesn't want anything but to stay focused on her direct goals and pursuing her dreams one-hundred percent. Now that I write that down, it doesn't seem that bad. At the time, hearing it over the phone - it sounded like a million and one knives scattering across the floor and finding their perfect place in their rehearsed spots all over my body. A death by perfect symphonic stabbing.

All I know is I have to stop wondering about this. I have to stop thinking about this. All I'm doing is dragging myself down, when really I should be lifting myself up. This is my life, and she has hers. They might meet again - on a completely off hand chance, call it fate or coincidence - or they might not. I can't stop being alive until then. I won't.

I need to start finding out what I can do next - I'm so sick of making these plans without completion. I have so much that I really want to do - finish writing the songs I've been writing for far too long, start singing with my words instead of just my voice, realize it's okay to write the raw and the real instead of the typical poetry, dance often, take my world - my music - that one step farther...this list could go on and on. There is so much waiting for me when I return.

...And on December 28th, my planes filled the sky. The return of J.R. Daniel...Citizen Dildo.

I will make my life what I've been dreaming of. I will reach that desired goal - our songs on the radio, the late-night interviews, the shows where everyone knows every lyric to every one of your god damn songs. I will be able to sit back a year from now - recording in the studio with the band - saying, "well, this is interesting". VH1 will have a fucking fit. I will also write my anti-folk and marry Miss Spektor. I couldn't have it any other way.

Christmas Day approaches quickly - the days pile quickly on top of eachother - buried in my written words. I am really quite excited to see Christmas come and go - reassurance that I'm still alive and time has still not stopped for anyone. I am ecstatic to watch the hands turn and the pages fly. I'm another word to describe "anxious". I barely use the Thesaurus anymore; it never seems to have the real word I'm looking for.

And how.

So many things have changed. All at once, in a sudden whirlwind of passing months, moving, calendar pages, and lost letters, my life has fell back into position like a cosmic game of Connect Four. I have no idea what direction to face or run to. My compass has run north and south in circles. Since I last rejuvenated the dying horse that was this journal, things were going pretty smoothly for me. I mean, apart from trying to survive the last two months of high school and looking forward to a shaky yet extremely exciting future.

So, yes - things have changed. Right in time for this new year too. I still have many wants and dreams; many goals and aspirations. I haven't changed as a person - other than my hair growing too long and maybe my sleep schedule. I don't know - I just don't feel that different. I'm still this person I've grown to know from conversations in the mirror or over this journal - this kid named Jordan. At least we get along most of time.

I recently (and by recently, I mean in October) moved with the band and some friends up to Denver, Colorado. I've never moved before; I've lived in the same house since as long as I can remember. My childhood house in the hell we call Los Alamos is now occupied by someone I've never even met. I might not miss that place, but I miss that space I called 'home' - my room most of all. So much of my life went on within the walls of that room. Everything from playing with Lego to packing all my memories in boxes at the beginning of my 'new start'.

Denver...has been an interesting experience so far. Still young in our stay, we have run into so much shit that I didn't even know was possible. Yes, the good things are always evident - infinite freedom, a great band, parties all night - but so are the bad things - never having money, shows getting cancelled, scraping for rent. I think Tyler is the one that said, "I have learned more in these two months of living alone that I learned in four years at our stupid high school". We live our lives to a steady soundtrack - discussing the ways of the universe and the properties of love long into the night with Marble and Dustin, planning an explosion of sound and color like I've never seen before with both Tyler and Elise, and journeying along the path (and cliffline) of my life with everyone right by my side.

The summer seems so long ago; losing my Alexandra to the inevitable rising tide. The future as her husband has grown to be nothing more than my own hope and aspiration; a love put on hold indefinitely. This has also put me in a very fragile state - a state where I constantly feel sorry for myself, question the future, and wonder 'why'.

"And strange lonesome monsters loafed through the hills wondering why...and it is best to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever wonder why."

Right now, I'm within these new walls of my family's house in Oregon; I write from the same hands on the very same keyboard that I etched all my silly high school angst and endless teenage turmoil to the page with for years and years. I present something new. Within all this change - within the spiraling path of music, mayhem, and that thing called "love" - I write something different. Contradiction. Confrontation. Opposition. A threat to my heart that this is a war and I am not about to give up.

So, I'll stop feeling sorry for myself. What do I really have to feel sorry for anyway? Yes, I lost the race against love - as always - alright, try again, second place, you almost had it this time. I find that putting a few years of training into myself might do the trick to win her back one day. Yes, I "live like shit and suffer for my art", but I really do like it that way. Yes, I've definitely had some moments; some coughing, screaming, sobbing fits of utter disgust and unbridled anger...but, how I see it...once you've let yourself go, there's nothing more to do than to find yourself again.

That's my goal. That's my dream. In simple terms, still the music, mayhem, and a thing called "love". That's my aspiration. My inspiration as a person - a friend, a lover, a fighter, and most of all, a damn good human being. Welcome again to my life; sit and talk awhile if you like.

- Jordan