As I was driving through town on my way home from the library last week, I was in a rather analytical mood, and I flipped the radio to a secular music station for a moment to see what was on and to see whether I could evaluate the worldview of what was being said.

On this particular day, at this particular moment, the song that came over the radio was Pain by Three Days Grace, and the lyrics were startling for a number of reasons:

You're sick of feeling numb

You're not the only one

I'll take you by the hand

And I'll show you a world that you can understand

This life is filled with hurt

When happiness doesn't work

Trust me and take my hand

When the lights go out you'll understand

Pain, without love

Pain, I can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

What immediately struck me about the words and the way in which they were sung was that this guy isn't looking for answers...he gave up. He is bitterly resigning himself to a fate he despises, despite the agony that it obviously is costing him to admit that that's what he's doing, and now he's turning to the antithesis of everything that he truly wants.

He sought happiness, strove to discover meaning in life, and asked in agony if there was purpose for his life? And in all of his searching, he missed the answers, and he missed the point...so he turns instead to a cheap masochistic substitute and wallows in hopelessness and self-mutilation, deliberately forging deeper into his own private hell, violating others and himself in a deliberate sort of psychological and spiritual hara-kiri...because he would rather feel pain and know that he has not completely lost the sensation of feeling than to feel nothing at all, and so forget that he was once a man who was meant to feel things, meant to BE something great.

It was the saddest thing that I have ever heard, and the words continued to chase each other through my head as I drove along. I was pondering their true significance and wondering how many people could truthfully echo that chorus and claim it as their own personal anthem of defeatism and despair when I passed a bright orange sign.

It had been placed by the road to warn people that there was a crew of men up ahead painting white lines on the pavement for the enlightenment and instruction of Wausau drivers, and it was supposed to say "Paint Crew"...but the T was missing.

Pain Crew.

Yes, that's right. I checked to see if they were singing.

Big boys with big toys

Ha, I'm posting these just because I'm super proud of my big brother (and his lovely wife, who is not picture here...love you, Kels!). I thought these pictures of him with the little Schoepplers were really pretty cute. ;-)

The boys...

...getting a slightly higher view...

...and this is probably right about the point where Joshua completely freaks out? Bless his heart.

The "New Look"?

Some of us got a bit bored with our old hairstyles and our natural haircolor by the end of this week, and since we have so many options available to us in America, we decided that while there may come a day when the courage of men fails, and we break all ties with hairstylists, today is not that day. Today, we change. And here are the results, which I sincerely hope are not permanently traumatizing to any of you, my dear viewers:

I think we were going for the emo/homeless punk look here...

And this would have been...a Weird Al Yankovic impersonation, perhaps?

Josiah as...Blondie? He wasn't crazy about this 'do.

Our history class is studying the '60s, so this one seemed fitting, somehow.

And this one was...just because we love each other.

So there you have it...Saturday night at the Beatys...minus one brother, who was sensibly occupied the entire time reading Grimm's Fairytales. Go Seth! A very sensible chappy, that.