Procrastination

It was ever thus. I can remember nights of sweaty anxiety, feverishly trying to complete a project that had been due for ages and was only now being done the night before it was due. Parents must feel so torn watching their kids go through that; a combination of kid's gotta learn and how can I help my poor sweet baby get through this any way I can? Well, now there's no parent to soothe me as I try to catch up on 2 months' neglected Jazz Theory studies in time for my midterm on Friday.

Ok. Diminished 7th chords: what are their chord scales?
Name the 6 Harmonic Formulae and provide examples.
What defines a blues song?
Analyze this song, pointing out all instances of Modal Interchange.
Provide the 8 examples of Dominant Chords with a non-Dominant function.
Provide the 7 examples of Deceptive resolutions.
Does this song have an AABA or ABAC form?

These are some of the questions I'll be asked in 2 days. Actually, I do know the answers to a lot of these questions, after a few hours of grind. But I'm annoyed with myself for letting illness, financial difficulties and lack of energy get in the way of my studies. I do these 2 courses for myself, to learn more about this subject that means more to me than most other things. To let myself get behind is to let myself down, not to mention my mom, who generously provided the cash that made these courses possible. I had a great Fall term and it would be shaming to fail an exam after such a great start. So I'll take a few more minutes to finish off today's blog entry and then dive back into my notes again.

My ambivalence about practice has probably come up before in these entries; I love rehearsing with others but have such a hard time buckling down at home and playing music alone. It's best to do it every day: I really need to make time at least 5 days a week to work on my instruments and get better at playing them. I'll see if I can make this a part of my daily routine, like running- oh, wait a minute, that went really well, didn't it? When's the last time you slipped on your sneakers, again? (...and the waves of guilt crash completely over my head.)

On a more positive note (and who could be anything other than positive on such a sunny day, even when I can't go out and appreciate it?), the Redboot Quartet has their debut performance this Friday and I can't wait! Playing music with these guys is the best incentive for becoming a better musician.

Cheerio Day

It is 3pm. I haven't washed my hair in 2 days, which is an eternity for greasy-locked me. The house is awash in old food-encrusted plates and camera equipment. I tell J that we really must hire another maid. I had school this morning and since then we've been drifting in and out of sleep in our messy bed, making up for the last few sleep-deprived days. I have eaten about 7 bowls of honey-nut Cheerios today and that is all.
To steal a quote from someone (I think it's Alice Walker): "Sometimes life just be's like that."

Ginger Tea & Party Updates.

Last night I looked around at all the guests at our 10th anniversary bash in wonder: all these people showed up just for us! Jon & I don't throw a lot of parties (our place being small and not soundproof), so it was a bit nerve-racking waiting for guests to arrive at our friend Gord's funky studio apartment. There was food (piles of it), ambiance, music... And in the middle of the evening I looked around at everyone who'd shown up: family, bandmates, theatre people, friends we'd known for years, friends we wanted to know better, and I was so happy, because the lines were so blurred. Family=Friends. Coworkers=Friends. Jon's friends=My friends and vice versa. Our work life and our family and our social life are all intertwined in the best way. And I got to celebrate 10 years with the best man in the world in front of all the people who mean so much to both of us. We are truly lucky.

By the way, here's a great flu-fighter I've been glugging today: hot water, lemon juice, ginger, garlic, cayenne, maple syrup, and some black seeds that the prophet Mohammed ate (and he was never sick, apparently). Redboot Steve made it today for us during rehearsal, and I thought it would be gross but it was surprisingly tasty. Wish I knew what the black seeds were called, 'cause if they were good enough for the Prophet...

Blogging at 2am: bad idea or really bad idea?

So, normally I think that Vancouver lags behind major metropolitan cities when it comes to things like "cool" and "after hours" and "a scene", although I really wouldn't know, since my idea of a hot night out is usually a) playing a gig or b) going to a late movie or c) gorging on Chicken Chow Mein at Chong Quing.
But... we do have a pretty amazing little theatre scene, of which I am very proud to be a peripheral member. And one of the coolest groups in that scene is the Leaky Heaven Circus, of which I am a founding member. Tonight I did a clown act at a Leaky Heaven salon where we explored "the spaces between gender" and I sang "He's Not Heavy...He's My Brother" with another performer, both of us dressed in drag pretending to be brothers and it was- weird. And fun. The great thing about that group of folks is that you can be pretty much whoever you want to be and it's totally acceptable. That's what I love about theatre.
And the nicest thing was that Ana and Amelia showed up halfway through to spirit me away for alcohol and company all through the night, so that it's after 2am now and I'm still awake and blogging. Lungs too smoky, head spinning from spirits, but overjoyed to have spent an evening with the girls, drinking and dishing the gossip. Not something I do often enough, and very fun. I feel very lucky. And tired. I think I'll sleep now...

Dancing, falling, dancing

I did my usual roll-out-of-bed-and rush-to-school shuffle this morning. Arranging assignment stuffed in backpack. Not quite finished, but the score was done, so it could be played. Transported back to the '40s as our 4-part horn arrangements were brought to life by an impromptu band made up of faculty and students. For all the mistakes and cut corners, I was so happy to hear my arrangement at last. Then after class, a visit to the music department office. "Until you pay your fees, you can't go to any more classes." From happiness to grim reality in 30 seconds. I am so lucky my mom can front me the money until my royalty cheque gets here, but the way it's going, that baby'll be spent before it even arrives. I am so sick of having money troubles! The funny/sad thing is that mom and I were at a bridal shower for my brother's fiance yesterday and we were playing this bridal shower game where the groom-to-be answers questions about himself and then the bride has to guess what his answers were. Well, the thing that bugs Naomi most about her prospective husband (my brother) is that he's bad with money. I guess it runs in the family.

Sad news: a technician at the Vancouver East Cultural Centre who was very kind to me when I was stage managing there this fall dropped dead suddenly last week. The TD of the theatre wrote this beautiful email about how he'd died surrounded by the people he worked with, in the theatre he loved. There's this disbelief about death sometimes, isn't there: I didn't see him die so what does his death mean, exactly? I mean, it was the same way when my mom's really good friend Jackie died of cancer a couple of years back. She'd been sick a long time and lived over on the north shore so I didn't see her for a long time before her death. So when she died I was very sad for my mom but I never cried for Jackie because her death was never real for me. But Doug the sound guy was a character: crusty and profane, but with a marshmallow heart underneath. I hope there will be many people at his wake; I know I'll be there.

I played music for hours with the rest of the Redboots today. Not note-perfect, but there is some magic in the 4 of us playing together that makes us really powerful in a way. Just the easy way we all mesh together when we play, reading each others' minds. I'm a better musician when I play with these guys. I guess that's the magic for me.

I called this post dancing, falling, dancing because: a) it's hard to keep coming up with post titles and sometimes you just think of kinda pretentious ones and
b) that's what I'm trying to do right now: dance, and pick myself up off the floor when I trip and fall, and dance again. Times will be hard and I will get sick and people I care about will die and I can let it drive me mad or I can carry on dancing. Because hopefully I have a lot of years left on this earth and it's my job to make 'em good ones.

pushing ahead

My bachelor week of popcorn-at-midnight and guiltily watching episodes of "My So-Called Life" is nearly up. J will arrive home tomorrow afternoon and although I will be thrilled to see him, this week was important and necessary for me. Without him (or my mom or any other support systems) around to coddle me, I made it through the wilderness (to quote, um, Madonna) and am facing the world with new strength and joy. I have dyed my hair a nice deep red again (a tribute to Angela Chase, for sure!), plucked my eyebrows, and am forging ahead with an arranging assignment I had given up on. It feels good to have the bit between my teeth again.

Oh, and that Barkerville job? I got it. Ha.

This is me just before the grey clouds broke and I started to feel better about the world and myself again. Note the grim mouth. It's considerably more relaxed today.

limbo.

So many of the people who anchor my world are strangely silent or away this week: Jon, my mother, Amelia (no long Redboot practices with her away). At school there's a Reading Week, so no classes. Every day I check my emails to see who will be attending our 10th anniversary party in a week; some of our dearest friends have not even deigned to rsvp. The phone seldom rings. There has been no final answer about the great job I was interviewed for over a week ago; I fear the worst. Even my job is anonymous and lonely: no one really knows me and few stop to chat as they do at Tanglewood.

This all sounds terribly depressing, but I don't feel that bad. My throat is slowly on the mend and my energy is coming back. (For now. The first sign of another illness and I'm gonna take a doctor hostage, if that's what it takes to get some attention.) I just feel as if I am floating, slightly unconnected to reality, whatever that is. I work days at this funny little store on Granville Island, just another retail clerk pounding a cash register. I come home to Chinese food leftovers and episodes of "My So-Called Life" (hey, might as well watch it while J's not around to make sarcastic remarks). It's not a bad life, really, it's just not that much of a life. Like so many of us did at high school dances, I wait pressed against cold walls for someone to slide up and say You. I choose you. Come dance with me.

When of course, what I need to do is start to dance by myself. But sometimes limbo is just easier, and that's the sad truth of it.