Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

"[...] When I was a boy I asked God please make me normal and the prayer never got answered and I realized why. Because God would've made somebody else he wouldn't have made me." -- Roman Catholic priest Geoffrey Farrow of Fresno, coming out as gay in the course of an interview 2008-10-05

( Fr. Geoffrey Farrow, on being as God made him )

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Most of my one-handed typing lately has been with my left hand. Perrine is being clingy this evening in a way that makes it hard to reach the keyboard with my left hand, so I'm discovering how much slower I am with my right hand due to lack of practice. Wow. (Somehow, two-handed typing does not seem to help keep my right hand in shape for typing one-handed.) Or maybe it's just that my right arm and hand are still sore from yesterday (I kept feeling like I was about to lose hold of the drumstick in my right hand, in the fourth verse of each take -- I use my right hand on the hi-hat and ride cymbal).

There is a curse laid upon those who deign to smite the skins. (According to legend the curse can be abated by giving money to members of an order devoted to moving other people's stuff and setting it up, an order known as the Roadies) ... in other words, my back hurts quite a lot from loading and unloading the drum kit a couple of times yesterday (and dragging it down from the third floor Saturday night). No one piece is all that bad (well okay, the Bag Of Bronze is, maybe) but it adds up even though I don't always notice the effect piece by piece. Add in my ongoing tendency not to notice that I'm over-doing until too late, and...)

Anyhow, I waded through really really nasty traffic (I do not like coming to a complete stop in the middle of the Capitol Beltway, but it does allow time to 'tweet' safely), played drums and electric guitar, wasn't really happy with how I played (but the folks whose opinions actually count were satisfied), bought a pizza on the way home 'cause I felt sufficient need for such a treat to warrant splurging so (I also drank one of the ales that's been sitting in the back of my fridge waiting for me to have a beer-mood come around again; I suspect the ale did less to help my back pain than the relaxation of allowing myself to enjoy a pizza did), and procrastinated putting away the drums and other gear properly until later (it's stacked where it's not blocking the front door; that'll do for now).

My not feeling very well at the start of the day did have an effect on my playing. :-( More on guitar than drums, I think, but my drumming doesn't take as much interference to throw me off, so ... Anyhow, I was doing well enough to get out of the house and play, though I do wish I could've managed to be having a better day and be all there for recording. (Ah, if only I could schedule in advance which days would be my good days WRT the fibromyalgia, that would make So Many things easier...)

Other than mental glitches (I still have to think a lot playing the drums[*], and although I had the complete drum part worked out in my head note by note ahead of time, there were a bunch of tricky spots where it was easy to fall off), my biggest problems were my right hand starting to lose hold of the drumstick, and late in the drum session my left leg was cramping and twitching a bit from fatigue (which, oddly enough, resulted in some double-strikes on the kick drum that I was told sounded intentional -- they weren't). Anyhow, it's done, and if my mistakes aren't audible or aren't identifiable as mistakes in the finished product, then I shouldn't moan about it, eh? I'm just a little frustrated because I know what I meant it to sound like.

At the same time as I'm complaining about not playing as well as I think I should have, I also have to feel good about a a couple of bits that had frustrated me for ages finally starting to click for me while I was practicing during the week.

Last Monday I was pretty wiped out. Tuesday I got to do something fun (I got to spend hours hanging out with xpioti, a pleasure long overdue). Of course, I got so caught up in the conversation that I (unsurprisingly) failed to notice warning signs from my body that it was time to call it a day. The next couple days were kinda rough as a result. I think it was worth it though.

So now I'm facing the weekly question: on Monday night, am I feeling well enough to carry the double bass, and alert enough to drive to College Park and play it? I think I can make it if I'm willing to take codeine for the second day in a row; I'll have a more reliable answer after standing up long enough to take a shower. (I'll be showing up about forty minutes late if I do get there.)

Saturday I felt almost well enough to go to the monthly recorder club meeting (which I've missed the past several months), and if it had started at three insteaf at one, I would have made it. Alas, it took a little too long to get to a point where I could handle going out. (*sigh*) Then again, given how marginal I was for the recording session yesterday without having used up extra spoons on Saturday, perhaps it's just as well that I missed the recorder group.

[*] I play well enough to say, "I play the drums," but not well enough to be comfortable saying, "I am a drummer," if that distinction makes sense to anybody other than myself.

( Thoughts about yesterday's recording session, drumming, pain, traffic, how the past week has gone for me )

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