A vice can be defined as immoral or wicked behavior according to the definition that I found on google a few seconds ago. I’m fairly sure most of us do our best to be decent and do not really partake in what society calls immoral or wicked. Therefore, our definition of a vice can be summed up as something along the lines of a guilty pleasure. I think this goes with the second definition dealing with criminal activity, drugs, and pornography. Again, I’m sure we tend to shy away from anything that could potentially break the law and land us in jail. So our guilty pleasures are usually just stuff that we like that we just don’t usually admit that we like. Maybe we’re embarrassed? Maybe we don’t want someone else to know we like something, because, if they knew, they would ruin it for us? It could be any number of things. Your guilty pleasure could be Nickelback. They aren’t really doing anything worthy of ridicule, but maybe everyone you know hates them except you. I don’t hate them, but they aren’t on my list of bands that I would listen to on a desert island by choice. If it was all that I could find, sure. I would not hav ea problem with it, and I would enjoy it with all of my being. Why? Because it beats sitting in silence. (No offense Chad Kroeger. Not that you’d read this or anything.) I am rambling and making all sorts of nonsense here. It’s been a bit since I’ve had a chance to post, so just ignore a large portion of this.
I stopped smoking on January 1st of this year. It was a vice of mine for almost fourteen years. I didn’t do it as a resolution, as I know….Nobody really follows through with their resolutions. They follow through with goals, decisions…yes…But not resolutions. If you have….good on ya, but I’ve never completed one and never met anyone who has. I didn’t set a goal either. I made a decision. I didn’t call it quitting…because I will reserve that word for things that matter. “I quit my job.” “I quit school.” “I quit playing music.” Those things matter, so it makes sense to me. I stopped smoking. I reserve that for things that I may decide to do again on occasion. I really have no intention of picking it back up, but that’s what I said the last time I “quit” for longer than a few weeks. It’s not something that I actually had any interest starting in the first place, and I don’t really have any cravings. I guess I got lucky. I know many people who retired the habit and struggled a lot. Good on them for keeping on keeping on. I’m not sure if this actually makes any kind of sense. I’m reading it back in my head and going, “What the hell are you talking about?” “Quit,” to me, means ending something. It’s a word that represents the finality of something. Is that a word? I like it, and google hasn’t tried to correct it yet, so I will assume it is. I was gonna go further with this but I noticed I’m saying the same thing over and over again…(i.e. I don’t “quit”, I stop. blah blah blah) Anywho….My brain just vomited…So you’re welcome.
Mistakes are funny things. Some can cause major problems while others create minor inconveniences. While I have made mistakes of the major variety, I make mistakes of the minor variety more often. It can be frustrating to slow down and do what may feel like hindering progress, but it is worth it. In some cases you may even get more accomplished than you realize.
It is good to acknowledge mistakes. Notice them, keep them in mind, but ultimately, move past them. This is what I tell my students. A musical instrument is a very rewarding thing to learn when you don’t want to throw it out the window. In the beginning, it was a very strong urge to do just that. You want to play like the people you enjoy listening to. You try. You fail. Wash, rinse, repeat. So many mistakes, so much frustration. What do you do? Do you give up? Nope. You keep going, slowly chugging along. It gets better and better. Those mistakes become miniscule. Tiny little things that you notice and move past. Some of them even lead you to new places. You go from learning your favorite song to writing your own. You just keep going. When you are making the effort, many if the mistakes you may make won’t even be seen or heard by anyone but you. You don’t beat yourself up about it. You strive to better the next time. Twenty years playing, and that urge to throw it out sticks around. It’s whether you decide to keep going or give up that matters.
Classes started on Monday this week. I was very excited but quite a bit nervous. It has been awhile since I have studied a “foreign” language. It is not exactly a foreign language in these parts. Living near a military base for most of my life, I’ve been able to experience many different dialects of English and non-English. Most of which I did not understand. I decided to take Spanish last semester. I felt pretty comfortable taking it online. It was a challenge, but quite in enjoyable. This semester, I decided it would be best to attend the class in person. The first morning in class is usually pretty unnerving, but this one had me in a bit of shock. The students go in the class a few minutes before the teacher arrives. I sit down in the far side of a circle desks, minding my own business as I don’t know anyone. As the teacher walks in she shouts “Hola clase!” Of course, I know what this means, but she came in like it was party time. I was wide eyed and slack jawed by the end if class. She knew it and kept making sure I followed. It was quite humbling and something I’m glad I got to see on day one. The second day of class went much better. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to speak a bit more in the next 15 weeks, eh?
I gotta say that that is one big picture.I think I have used this one for a previous post, but that’s OK. It is a pretty good picture. She smiles nice and big just for you. She just doesn’t know that she is doing it. Her face just kind of looks that way. It makes me happy, and that, in turn, makes her happy. That was a lot of punctuation. I hope I did that right. Anywho… On with the post, I suppose.
I’ve mentioned my little pooch, Stinky, quite a bit throughout a number of my posts. In my last post, I mentioned how she is a horse in a dog’s body. It’s a good time. She trots and bounces just like a horse. Her nails make that clicking sound on the tile floor just like a horse’s hoof would on regular ground. I do not think that I am crazy enough to risk bringing a horse onto the tile floor. She prances around radiantly. She’s just downright entertaining. That concludes the miniature part of the post. She’s a miniature, miniature, miniature, horse….that barks. But, just look at that smile.
You’ve heard of the “crazy cat lady” thing. I’m the “crazy dog guy.” Let me tell you about my dog. No, really. I am going to tell you because that’s what is up in the top of this post. The goofiest little turd ever. She gets so excited, she has to do a wind up on the floor before she can run. I should probably give her nails a trim and that wouldn’t happen. She gets so excited that sometimes she forgets that there are things to run into. Things she’s ran into over the years include: Steps to the backdoor while being excited that she peed and she was coming back in, the front of the couch while chasing a ball, the ottoman, the cat….the list goes on and on. She’ll dive face first into the couch and put her head between the cushions. Again, it’s a good time. So good, I have to tell everyone. But just look at that smile.
I have no idea what to write about today’s prompt. I only know that I have to try my best to write consistently every day to form a habit. This shouldn’t be a brain dump though. I mean, it probably will be but, I’ll try not to do that. Fifty…Fifty…Fifty….hmm
I feel like I have received close to fifty text messages within the last hour. C’mon guys. Who actually has that much to say at 7:45 in the morning? It’s not like we’ve not seen each other in the last twenty four hours. “What do you wanna do?” Oh, I don’t know…something creative and productive?
I swear that this wasn’t gonna be brain vomit. I tried and failed rather quickly, eh?
Fifty random things (let’s see how far we get)
1. Have you ever looked at someone and wondered what they smell like? I bet Kathy Bates smells like homemade biscuits.
2. My dog stinky thinks she’s a horse. A tiny, tiny horse. She Frances around like it’s going out if style.
3. My meditation is really a five minute nap while someone speaks softly to me.
4. I use about four different productivity apps at any given time. I spend most of my time trying to get them to work.
5. It takes me forever to finish creative work. I sat on an interesting guitar riff for ten years until I heard the right drum beat for it.
6. This list probably won’t be completed. Stick around and find out.
7. If stinky gets up to top speed while chasing a ball, she usually misses the ball and face plants into the bottom of the couch. At this, I laugh very hard every single time. It’s good stuff.
8. My cat is almost four years old. She still looks like a kitten. She’s just that small. I gave her a blog but, as with everything, she list interest right away.
9. I didn’t make it.
Conflict isn’t something that I necessarily thrive on, but I seem to be good at finding it. It isn’t life or death conflict. It’s more conflict of the mundane variety – conflict of interest, personality, schedule, etc. These little things keep me on my toes quite a bit, but might jeopardize my standing with people I care about. I have quite a few interests and I make sure schedule permits that I can engage them. At the moment, this means prioritizing my time. Classes begin tomorrow, so that is priority #1, much to the chagrin of my job and soon my band mates. If my job were fulltime, this would leave me worried as that pays for now while the school will hopefully pay for the future. It’s never a guarantee. But, neither is my line of work. I love the profession I chose. It’s wonderful to help someone enrich their lives with music. It’s only as busy as I allow it to be. So, job is priority #2. Leaving the band in third place seems odd since taking what I do and loudly doing it for people is shut loads of fun. Maybe things aren’t in jeopardy at the moment. Maybe I’ve shared too much? But I’ve taken the time to clear the brain and it had to go somewhere. So, thanks internet for being a sounding board and learning more than anyone needs to about my day to day.
“The eyes are the Windows of the soul.” This is a phrase I have heard often. It’s kind of funny to me. I also love that my tablet has seen fit to auto correct “windows”, perhaps implying that the eyes are the operating system of the soul. This gives Internet explorer a different meaning, eh? But I digress (and hope that I am using that phrase appropriately but, if not, who cares?). If the eyes are windows to a person’s inner self, what does that make windows, themselves (pardon my bad use of grammar and punctuation)? You can tell a lot from a person’s eyes. They are full of emotional expression. You can tell a lot about a building by its windows as well. What it is used for, how many people are inside, that kind of thing. So, with the aforementioned expression in mind, would a window be the equivalent of an eye? If so, would they be an extension of our own eye in a way? Like a two way eye where you see either way and even reflections? Imagine your brain as a small structure with little people living and working inside, using your eyes as the window to the outside world. I kind of like that.
Moonrise is a tune I wrote in response to a prompts on another forum a couple of years ago. I believe the prompt was “moon” as well. It sounded like watching the sky at night and watching that gigantic rock move across it. I don’t usually link to other things I do, but this seemed appropriate. Enjoy!
You reached out to touch them, but they didn’t feel your hands. All they got out of it was a chill. “Did it just get colder in here?” You tried to make them aware that you were with them. You wonder why they don’t hear you. With every word you speak, they just seem to ignore you more. You ask yourself why they do not respond. This will soon become problematic. These people were your friends, weren’t they? Why do they keep walking away? You just want to get their attention, to go home. This little trip was not a good idea. It was only supposed to be a few minutes. Check out the building and go home. It seemed simple enough. How long had it been? It felt like eternity to you. You reach for your cell phone with the hope that you can see how long you and your friends have been there, but it is nowhere to be found. “Perfect…” The small group of friends seems to be ready to leave. You follow as they approach the door. “Guys…Guys…why aren’t you answering me?” Of course no response. You follow them to tell car and get in the backseat. As the friends drive off, they talk about the trip. They mention that they wish you could be come with them this time. You start trying to tell them that you did come with them. You are right there, until so etching in the rearview mirror catches your eye. Well, something doesn’t catch your eye. You swear that you are in the car with them, but all you see in the back seat is two friends along with the two in the front seat. You begin to panic. You try to shake one of your friends. “Can you turn off the a.c.?” “Its not even on.” Things begin to make sense as you are clearly stuck and must accept your fate. “How long has it been?”
There is something about a good piece of music. The way the accompaniment carries the melody. They intervals, changes, melodic lines…they interact in a special way. Add lyrics, and you get another powerful dynamic.
I am a big fan of situational music and film scores. A well timed piece of music, sympathetic overtones, can really add depth and emotion to what one sees on the screen. It helps you to connect a little more to the characters and the story. Maybe it makes you feel like a part of the story? It carries you to a new place by kicking you in the gut and tugging on your heartstrings. If it leaves you speechless , breathless, on the edge of your seat, it has done it’s job.