I feel bad at blogging. I think it’s because I feel some sort of pressure to execute complete over-literate thought, similar to an essay. It must be the English snob in me, but I’d like to turn it off. I’d like to candidly express because that’s the point of a blog. But I just edited that very sentence to be complete, so there’s probably no hope.
I want to talk about something that is possibly the dearest thing to my heart; Something that is possibly my whole heart. The House of The Cascade Sun is a place I called home for 2 years with 3 of the most incredible and talented men I have ever encountered. I was blessed with the faithful Mat Charley, the protective Tim Olson, and the wise Casey Black. And going into it, when it was merely a house, I had no idea the caliber of friendship I would find.
The friendship I’m talking of is an unordinary one. I would come home to full fledged role play situations half the time resulting in fake weapons to my person, which lasted for an hour and ending in belly aching laughter. Actual names were never used, but instead a stretch of nicknames whose origins are difficult to pin point. The dishes were only done by Casey, and over the course of two years we banded together for 2 A.M. cleaning sessions a total of 4 times. There were multiple TV series marathons, games that were only real to us like Mouthball and Orange Juice Roulette, and karaoke sessions nearly every night.
And then there was the music. If it were normal to recommend living with a band, I would do it daily. The heart of our home’s name The Cascade Sun is made up of the most musically talented people I have ever met. As a silent 6th member, I had the first look at melodies, lyrics, ideas, and images. I sat front row to every practice (as they took place feet from my bedroom), worked merchandise for every show, gave outside opinion to every new single. And through that, I learned about music. Really learned. I can now recognize a gorgeous harmony, and even do it myself. I appreciate a song from the base up. I see what makes a good song. As silly as it all sounds, you don’t know what you’re missing until you can appreciate music in that way. In The House of The Cascade Sun, no song was off limits. Mat and Tim could harmonize their way through anything and in any style. And when the five of them came together, I’d sit as they’d work there way through different harmonies with a piano just for fun. In two years, I rarely did anything outside of my home, and I was completely content in doing so.
The experiences in The House of The Cascade Sun were exceptional, but the experiences didn’t make it. It was this strange group of people. This group of guys that were best friends that somehow accepted me like I was theirs. I gained the realest of families. The kind of family that bails you out of jail and never mentions it. And throws going away parties for you with your favorite pasta and slow-dancing to 90’s boy band ballads while tears stream down your face.
I could go on forever, and this post won’t mean anything to anyone. But to me, it is everything. These people are everything. And soon not one of us will be in the same place, but I will never forget how much they’ve built me, and how grateful I’ll always be for The House of The Cascade Sun.
Here they are: the loves of my life.