After all these years, they still hold a special place in my heart

(Sort of) new Myspace site

http://www.myspace.com/jeremycraigweber

Now, these aren't perfect recordings, or really fleshed out much, but they get the point across.

Hope you like the little pictorials that represent the different songs :)

Cheers to the listeners! Thank you all for listening so much already. Makes me feel like a wallet full of two twenty-dollar bills and a $25 Gift card to Borders.

"Dream Sequence" (a song)

Expressionless
Are the faces
Wanting to make
Smiles

Inability
To write music
That would touch a
Soul

Memories that touch the human soul
Have been too often cold

You don’t have to smile
From what has become this while

After all, as we know
Nothing’s right and nothing keeps
So cry, or smile your way to sleep

Questions of, “Should I try,”
“Should I Cry,” “Should I care?”
Drop care, so you can think

(And) Dream, dream a life
Perfect, in all its defects

Stream, stream your mind
For perfect, in what you’ve lost

"I admire" (a song)

I admire someone who’s kind
Who has the voice and the smile
That can illuminate a dark, dreary day

I admire someone who tries
Tries to understand her life
Tries to seek anything that does not spell “strife”

Anywhere she goes she shines
She’s not extinguished by the times
She carries strong her little torch
I would like to know this girl more

I admire her who has substance
Her who has sustenance
Whose sponge is wet and never will run dry

Someone who admits they don’t know
Her who’s not scared to show her weakness
But glows for she knows that by God she’ll grow

I’m not saying I know her yet
Lots of things we must not forget
Of how much I’ve been in love (haw)
Of how much I’ve burned myself

Standing there
I feel like such a child
I’m trying to join in
But beside all the while
From the hall
I hear that awesome laugh
It makes me want to babble, cry, or bask

So I admire a little wit
Pleasantly catches me off guard
As my heart's pounding and I'm bounding past the yard

And all the stupidness I feel
Feels less harmful when you make
One wise crack as my mind's burning at the stake

Anywhere she goes she shines
She’s not extinguished by the times
She carries strong her little torch
I would like to know this girl…

Standing there
I feel like such a child
I’m trying to join in
But beside all the while
From the hall
I hear that awesome laugh
It makes me want to babble, cry, or bask

Anywhere she goes she shines
She’s not extinguished by the times
She carries strong her little torch
I would like to know this girl more

A Cert'in Yearnin'

Listen. I want to write a story. Then I want to show it to a bunch of other friends who find writing stories a phenomenon, like I do. Then I want to draw a big picture, 2 ½ feet by 3 and show it to the same friends who also find that creating images is a quality way to spend one’s time. We all love the smell of paint, paper, coffee, and charcoal. I love their company. I can come to them with anything creative I do. They’re always appreciative.

I wish these were my circumstances, that I had a large circle of friends like this. But it’s not like this. I have a busy schedule that doesn’t even allow me to be around one person like this for an extended period of time. So I’m forced to write on my own, to create on my own. All by my lonesome; and it’s not just like writing flows out of me without any effort at all. I have to at least choose to do it, so that’s what I’ve been doing lately. Success comes through committing yourself again and again to your desired goal. Well, I want to be a good writer. Therefore I must write whenever I can, and whenever I feel like it. Once I get going I can keep going; all it takes is for me to start doing it. That’s what I did about 10 minutes ago when I began writing this bit of…whatever it is.

Now, I’ll admit: I’m hesitant to start any big writing project, because that means you have to stick with something. But maybe my fear has to do with having to keep committing myself to the goal. If I can simply keep on committing myself, which isn’t actually difficult for me to do with writing, then I know—well, now that I think about it—that I am adequate to complete a big writing project. Committing myself, again and again…hm. It’s like repenting to God each day and letting him work through you. I pray that God would take my life each day, as well as my writing, and help me produce great things for His glory. That would be awesome. I have to keep in mind that committing to God comes first, then personal creation. I feel dirty and sinful right now.

I feel GRRRREAT (not like Tony the Tiger, though)

http://youtube.com/watch?v=JC2gIPnUCgw

Haha! Oh my, it's just too much... click! Please! You got nothin' better to do!

What I see

A tan telephone, three packages of printing paper, a printer, these weird, gray-and-white tabletops of the computer lab, the label on the monitor that profoundly reads, "FCLUSTER03", the keys with all their different labels: G, H, ,, <, &, A, !, ~, #, $, O, I have freedom to write whatever I want, like things you can't say in real life. FGEJKLHSGADKJDASG. JJNAF::::SDAN!@ Ever heard anyone make sounds like that?

Last night I laid in bed. It was dark, quiet, familar (well, nothing's quite familar at school--nothing's quite comfortably familar, anyway--then you go back home and everything's too familar); my bed was everything beds usually are. Comfortable (not comfortably familar though), soft, and that wonderful, gross feeling bed sheets aquire after a while: moist. I made myself "comfortable", as in, physically comfortable but thoughts flooding to every part of my brain, and looked up at the ceiling of the bunkbed overtop of me. Will was up there, and Eric to my left. Our beds hold this interesting formation. They're all bunched up together in one corner like four idiot elephants who've found a mouse in the room. I sat there and breathed, thinking of a lot of things I didn't want to. I listened to my buddies talking over a problem Eric was having. I started to join in with little grunts of agreement and words of understanding. After a while I began to recite to them everything I was feeling. I wanted to just go to sleep, yaknow, actually get some sleep because I've been so out of it in each and every way lately. But there I was, spouting off my feelings, conflicting memories coming to mind, like earlier, when I'd read in Proverbs, a verse which says, "A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back." Will fell to sleep at some point, but Eric listened on. When I'd finished, he told me he'd pray for me. I remember his cold hand patting my back. Relunctantly, I told him I'd pray for him, too. I say relunctantly, because isn't that just the thing to say? To answer back with a blessing you've just been given? I turned onto my stomach, then realized what I'd done. "Wow," I said, "sorry that all turned into something about me." He said it was okay, and within a few minutes he was asleep, like Will. I didn't know where our man was, Ike. Maybe he was hanging out with his girlfriend in one of the lobbys. I laid there as usually for longer than my roommates, unable to fall to sleep right away. I thought a few more thoughts that I really didn't want to, talked to God a little bit, and drifted away. I didn't get up the next morning till almost 2 in the afternoon.

Last year I was in an English class. Comp. 111. My teacher was always saying, "Don't say it, show it." In other words, paint a picture of your point by giving examples. Here I've tried to paint a picture...I'm not sure what of.