Power Tools

So my little chemistry experiment didn't have the results I had hoped for. While it made the whole surface of the drum bright and clean-looking, it didn't penetrate the really bad stains. For a little while I thought I could just live with the stains, but as I was doing more hand sanding and spending all that time looking sidelong at those stains, I said to myself, eh, screw this. So today I went to the giant do-it-yourself store and shelled out money and got myself an electric palm-sander. I'm starting to get the results I want. I think most of the stains are coming out, although there are a couple that are really deep in there. I only sanded for a little bit because I was worried about noise and neighbors. Don't we know how important it is not to harrass the neighbors? So note to self: power tools save you tons of time. Not that the whole character-building thing isn't good, but if it comes down to character, or a good looking drum, I'll take the good looking drum. Also in doing research for the finishing of the drum, I'd read that getting a good finish is 90% prep, and 10% varnish.

We have a photo shoot on Tuesday. Today we spent a lot of time working on some poses and configurations. It was good to do. Janet keeps hinting about make-up. I think she wants me to wear it, but I skipped girly lessons growing up, and have no idea how to put the stuff on. I've never worn mascara or eye liner or blush or foundation or any of that. I wasn't even the least bit interested in that as a kid. I never thought that this would come back to bite me. Yesterday I got a tube of lipstick at the drugstore, but I think that's all I can manage. I might ask one of my coworkers for help, since it seems that most of the people I know skipped girly lessons too. Maybe I should be practicing this. OMG, did I just say that?

More Yeeha!

What a strange gig. I knew it would be unpredictable, and it was. Apparently the event planners thought the drummers who performed before us were too "loud" and drove the guests away. I think this whole shindig was supposed to be a schmooze fest, and it's hard to schmooze when people are playing drums. They asked us to be short and sweet, and then short, with talking in between, and then some more sweetness, and then more short. We ended up only playing 3 songs with an audience participation section. We cut Kai to Ryu. Phew.

It was funny because before the performance a lady was talking to Janet, and I was standing next to her looking off in another direction, and when I turned toward them, the lady exclaimed that me and Janet looked so alike and she could totally see the resemblance and were we related? Funny! We don't look a thing alike, except for maybe the hair a little, but even then, no one has hair quite like me, except maybe my little brother. And then later, another guy looked at me, and then Janet, and was like, So are you from Japan? Did you study this in Japan? Do you see where I'm going with this? No further comment necessary.

We got paid well for our 25 minute set. No complaints.

One Extra

Went to the doc yesterday and as she was doing an exam she said I have an extra rib! It's on the top left and I think it's to help protect me from getting my heart broken.

Yeeeha!

Playing a gig tomorrow for an internet company that sounds like Yeeha. I'm a loyal Googly user, but hey, the gig pays well. We drove for an hour in rush hour traffic tonight to load in the drums. I'm realizing, in this drum building process, just how precious those drums are. All the work that goes into them. It's a shame we weren't forced to participate in drum building as beginners. I was looking at them as we were leaving, wondering, will the be ok? Will anyone touch them when we're not around? Who's gonna protect them? When we are moving drums from the cars to our practice space, I never leave the drums alone, even if it means standing there with a handful of shime or slant stands weighing me down. Heck, I'm willing to fight off adolescent boys again just to be sure the drums are safe. I was totally being the paranoid, doting parent, even though they're not my drums, but still. I didn't even bring my own baby tonight. I'd rather lug her to work and then from wherever we can find parking up to the top floor of this place rather than leave her alone. I think she is one of precious objects I own.

Anyhow, the gig promises to be interesting. I think it will test our ability to just go with the flow and how to handle last minute changes at the last second. But that's ok. We're pros, right? Or some of us are anyway--I'm just a newbie. I think there will be dj's and flashing lights and a ton of geeky techno-geniuses. Not sure how taiko will go over, but that's the fun of doing gigs, right?

And work leaves me way to busy to be nervous. May 1st is the day all the colleges have decided as the deadline for students to choose which college they want to go to. It's basically the day all college admissions people live, work and breathe for. In between processing student's decisions, I've been practicing Kai to Ryu, but no promises for performance. It was funny because today I was waiting for the traffic light to change outside of work and one of my old Emeryville Taiko buddies pulled up beside me and caught me practicing in my car. She must think I'm crazy!

Chemistry

Wow--this is a pic of exactly the same chemistry set I had as a kid. I remember that girl with the turtleneck on the front of the package. When I was younger I used to LOVE chemistry sets. I had so many of them, and would stay up half the night doing little chemistry experiments. A lot of them had to do with turning one chemical solution a different color, or growing crystals or whatnot. I don't know why I didn't take chemistry in high school, or why I didn't end up doing CSI stuff. I think half the appeal of chemistry sets was organizing my chemicals and polishing my test tubes and making everything look very neat--but that's another obsession all together. Anyhow, tonight I am actaully applying my grade school chemistry skills to my drum. I finally got the oxalic acid and mixed it up with hot water and applied it very carefully to the stains with a paint brush. And lo and behold, I'm turning one chemical reaction into another, or more precisely, I'm getting those darn stains out. Some are meaner and more stubborn than others, but hey--beats sanding.

I'm supposed to stop the chemical reaction with water and baking soda, but it's getting late, and there are still hints of the stains there, and I'm wondering if it's ok to leave the stuff to do its work while I get some shut eye. I think I'll leave it on tonight and cross my fingers and see what happens. I guess the worst case scenario would be that I'd have to borrow a mechanical sander and get to work. Or maybe the WORST case would be that I wake up to a pile of sawdust in the morning--but let's not get paranoid, right?

Janet said that when I applied the finish (which will be tung oil in my case--more on that later) that the grain will pop out and be amazing. I'm imagining it will be something like Christmas morning, but without the dim sum. I just worry that if there are still hints of stains that they'll pop out too. In the end though I have to be realistic. Hopefully we'll be doing fabulous things with our arms and solos and stuff that will call attention away from the nitty-gritty of the drum, right? Just need to work on that Mokuyobi solo while I'm waiting for things to dry.

Sweat Equity

I have no fingerprints. I wore them all off with the sandpaper. At work, all I can think about is getting home so I can do more sanding on my drum. But my fingers are sore and I've worn holes in them. And triceps? Didn't know I had any until this week, because they ache. My friend accused me of being obsessed. I can't argue. But yo, I'm making progress. Finished stave 21 tonight which means I'm three-quarters of the way around for my first pass. All the other passes will be slices of cake. And thank goodness I'm using a dust mask. My downstairs neighbor must think I'm insane. I run the vacuum cleaner every now and then to suck up the dust because I figure if most of it is in the machine, then I'm not breathing it. My Dad said it was good I was investing "sweat equity" into the drum because then I'd have a better appreciation of it. Boy am I appreciating this drum. Or rather, I think it's appreciating me. It better be.

I can just smell stave 28. It's calling my name. It's just those gosh-darn stains that are taunting me. I really hope this oxalic acid thing does the trick. If not, I may not have fingers by the time I'm done sanding those suckers out.

Ack. Tired. Another day, another stave. Gotta. Sleep.

Ah, Sandpaper

Last night I started on the sanding of the new drum body. I began with 60 grit sandpaper and a whole lot of optimism, gumption, and elbow grease. I have no power tools for this part of the process, and I have no problem doing the hard work. It builds, uh, character, and might I add, muscle. It also builds a fine layer of dust on everything in the office, but the things we do for art, eh? My first hurdle of this process are the stains that came with the drum:
Those stains are deep and stubborn. I did some exploratory sanding to see how deep they went, but my fear was that no amount of sanding would get them out, and after about half an hour of gumption and elbow grease, I decided that sanding wasn't going to do the trick. Not that I have a problem with all the hard work that intense sanding would require, but that the stains are too deep, and applying all that elbow grease just makes for a pocked drum body. So I did some research on the good old internet and discovered that wood like oak (which is what my drum body is made of) contains a lot of tannin. Tannin reacts with iron, so when iron comes in contact with the tannin of the oak, it creates a chemical reaction, causing those unsightly black marks. Water contains trace amounts of iron, and I'm assuming that those metal hoops that were once part of the body contained iron, hence, my mottled drum body. Since chemistry created these unsightly blemishes, I decided that I was A-ok with chemistry uncreating those marks, and so went in search of oxalic acid, which is a sort of wood bleach. The benefit of using oxalic acid (or so the internet tells me) is that it doesn't mess with the grain of the wood, and it doesn't discolor the wood after you apply it. I went to a couple of large do-it-yourself-it stores today in search of oxalic acid, but to no avail. I had to resort to purchasing the stuff on the internet, which for this project, it not what I want to be doing. Oh well. Got a lot of sanding to do while I wait for the stuff to ship.

Oh boy I don't even want to think of what's next. The staves were neatly numbered and as of tonight I'm on stave 14, which is half-way around since my drum has 28 staves. Once I finish getting around the drum on 60 grit, there is 150 and 220 grit. I am wearing down the skin on my fingertips and chafing pink spots into the bony parts of my hands. If you'd like me to commit the perfect crime, give me a ring in a week or so--I won't have fingerprints. When I was in junior high, my dad paid me 50 bucks to refinish all the cabinets in a kitchen we were working on. It was a total steal for him, but, as I'm discovering, a deeply rewarding process for me, since now I have absolutely no fear of finishing wood. As I was reading Janet's notes, she said she used tung oil on her drums. I'd like my drum to look like her drums so that it blends in with the rest of them for performance or whatnot, but I have no experience with tung oil. I'd read about people using tung oil on their chekeres, but I was a little hesitant to use the stuff (I still haven't quite completed mine yet. Not quite happy with the beading yet. Should finish it one of these days. Bad me, bad). But tung oil isn't that scary. Not scary as the prospect of actually skinning the drum. I guess the next stage of the adventure is purchasing skins and tacks and pulling that stretching rack out of the closet. One thing at a time though. Gotta see if the acid does the trick on those stains.

Until then, working on my character.

Rollercoaster Day!

OMG I can't even begin to tell you what kind of day I've had. I feel so manic and emotional, but--and here's the spoiler--it worked out in the end, and I'm so unbelievably thrilled-happy right now.

Last night I went to my lighting tech, and the teacher guy said last week--be there at 6:30 or 6:45. I've been trying to nail dates and times down all semester with this guy. Just tell me what time you need me to be where I need to be and I'll be there. All semester. But he's been evasive and unwilling to give me a straight answer. Turns out the date changed for an important tech from a taiko day to a non-taiko day--all last minute which I can understand, but he needs to tell me! And the thing is, I was all willing to give up taiko for this. By then I had already scheduled something for that day, so that just left yesterday to watch someone's show and figure out how to do the lighting for the piece. But when I finally got into the building (it was locked, and I got there at 6:30) it was already 6:45, and he was like, oh, it started at 6:00. So he didn't let me light a piece and cut me out of the show, and I just sat there like an idiot. So today I got to thinking, why even have me in the class if the culmination of it was to be lighting this piece, only to not tell me that the time had changed? I was upset. Is it so hard to shoot off an email? Call? This is so not about my ego.

Anyhow. So there was another tech run-through tonight, which I had absolutely no role in. He didn't even try to pull me into some sort of the process. But at the end of the class I did something that made me proud (and my Mom too--I know she's looking down on me, giving me the courage).

I confronted the guy.

Don't you hate it when you're really emotional and your mouth starts shaking and you fight to keep your eyes from welling up? But I stood there, as courageously as I could. It wasn't easy. But basically I told him that the communication had broken down, and it was his responsibility to make sure his students were informed, but that he had failed to do that. After a while it turned into a but-but-but conversation. I said, you had all week to tell me. You knew how to get ahold of me, but you didn't do that, and that's where the communication broke down, and now I don't have a role in what was supposed to be the final project. I told him I didn't see myself returning.

And now I'm FREEEEeeee! Oh, thank goooodness! I came home and checked my email and lo and behold there were like 4 emails all talking about the possibility of a gig. COMMUNICATING! Imagine that! There was confusion, questions, confirmations, information. All while I was gone for just a couple of hours at this thing. See!? Communicating is so easy! You don't even have to BE THERE while it's happening. Oh, and I'm doing the gig. I love those girls. It's so nice to come home from a tough day and the people that you're actually fond of have left nice little messages in your in-box. Not just messages, but confirmations that what you believe in actually happens in this world, and the people you respect the most are doing exactly what the people who frustrate you the most aren't doing. It's like when karma comes back to you in a good way, kinda.

Ok, ok, drama aside. Here's where it gets really good. Between work and the tech, I went to the bad part of town on the other side of the tracks (literally!) and met up with Janet to pick up this. It's shy.

Geez. Do you even know what that is? Here, here's another shot, less shy:

See how it comes with its own blankies? And here's an even better shot:

And here I am, a happy mama. Remember when I got my first shime, how proud and terrified I was? That's kind of the state of shock I'm in tonight, but times ten. When my niece was born, her Mom held her for the first time and exclaimed, Hello baby! Hello beautiful! That's me. Except without the pushing:

OMG! Hello Baby!! That there is a drum body. A pure, brand new drum body (with nice bracing inserts and already-glued-back-together). A while ago Janet offered me the body with the expectation that I'd have to finish the outside and skin it, oh, and let us play with it. But it'd be mine. I was in shock when she offered it to me. I'm still in a lot of shock. The question I have, but am so terrified to ask, is why? I couldn't turn it down, but I don't know how to thank her. I don't know what to say. I'm still kind of in shock. Why?? And how in the world can I even begin to pay it back? Or show my gratitude? How can I live up to the gratitude that I feel? I still don't know what to say. My thank you's feel weak and hollow. This is something else, I tell you. I don't think anyone who wasn't related to me has ever showed me so much kindness. There are no words for this.

Oh, and she also leant me some tools. Here's a box of pricklies and brute force do-hickies and a bottle of contact cement that I still can't quite figure out. There's also 4 very heavy-duty jacks buried under the bachi and rope. I love the mallet. Very road-runner. Don't hit me over the head with it because I don't want to wake up from this wonderful dream.

So you see, this is going to be an adventure. THE (pronounced "THEE") biggest livingroom floor workshop project ever. And the skeletons in my closet?--stretching rack. Oh and the best part is that she leant me her drum-making journal. It reads like the diary of someone who was stranded on a desert island and had to build several versions of a raft to escape, but left it behind for the next person. I thought I was anal and particular, but do I have notes for building my shime stand or chekere? No. Maybe I should be doing that...

But you see, I am just so honored, and so humbled. And terrified. I think that's why I'm in here blogging about the drum body, instead of nursing it.

Adventures in drum building next. And a gig. What a wonderful life I live. So exciting. So filled with its ups and downs, but the downs work themselves out and turn into lessons in courage, and the ups go so high I can't quite wrap the words around them to ground them.

I need to work on the gratitude thing. Definetely.

Skeletons

I don't know what kind of skeletons you have hiding in your closet, but here's a picture of my newest, ahem, skeletons:

That there's some heavy duty timber. Eight pieces of 3 1/2 x 5 1/2 solid wood. I think one time I measured a 2x4 and it wasn't actually 2 inches by 4 inches, but my Dad said that it was approximate, and that when you say 2x4 it actually meant whatever size it was that I measured. So let's just approximate here and say that I have eight pieces of 4x6, since those were heavy suckers to carry from my car to my second floor apartment. I'm gonna let you squirm and try to guess what they are for, since I'm actually a little terrified to use them. More on that later. Believe me, this is going to be one of the biggest and grandest undertakings of living room floor workshop projects, EVER!

Today we had class and they wanted me to sing, but I don't know how to really explain how horrible my singing is unless I actually sing, but don't I have enough things in my life to cause me to squirm in extreme embarrasment?

I'm spending the next three nights in the theater, working on lighting stuff. I should be more excited, but I'm just not. But that's really a bad attitude to have, isn't it? I think I should just make it my goal to learn as much as I can from this experience. And isn't that why I took this class in the first place--to learn as much as I can learn about everything that interests me? Yes! That's the attitude.

Sigh.

Mills Show!

Had the Mills performance last night. Mixed feelings about that show. As we were waiting backstage for us to be announced, me and Carolyn said the exact same thing at the exact same time, and Bean was like, so don't one of you have to say "jinx?" And of course, I was the foolio who, with great enthusiasm, called out "Jinx!!" What a mistake!!! DO NOT EVER, under any circumstances, call out "JINX!!!" before a performance! When we were playing Kai to Ryu, our toughest, most mind-boggling song, I totally messed up--more than I've ever messed up before in practice or at any other time. That was the song I messed up for the Aiko show with Emeryville Taiko way back when. I will never live that down, and after tonight, I swear that I am the talisman of horror for that song. Luckily I play with talented people who held it together. Carolyn was actually the one who called out which line I needed to play next in order to sync up with the rest of the group. Oh, the horror. Oh, how I must practice Kai to Ryu every day for the rest of my life!

The crowd gave us the blank, what-the-hell-are-they-doing look for our first song, but I kiai-ed away, more to get the energy of Maze on our side than anything. The second song was Kai, but after audience participation, I think we got the crowd on our side, and I started to feel better.

As we were playing Kanki no Wa I was totally trying to tap into the I-want-to-be-a-better-performer side of me, and I was trying to tap that energy from Janet, and was I making faces and smiling at her, and I think it worked because she looked up at me, returning the energy, and though I messed up on my solo, however miniscule-y, I got it all back. It was actually fun. Not perfect, not quite what I had envisioned, but fun. That's important.

But what I think this show taught me was that I need to work on being a better performer. I don't like the way I messed up. I wanted to project more, and I put the honest effort into doing that, but I think I need more time on-stage AND during practice, to achieve that. It's a philosophical thing, I think. I need to start thinking of myself as a performer, need to start projecting not only during performance, but when I'm still working things out. I think I'm lazy about that. If we're having practice, and it's my time to solo my attitude is, oh, I'll work on that at home and be amazing during performance. But I can't be like that. Janet doesn't do that. She'll give it her all during practice and the sweat will be pouring off her and I'll be like: wow, that's so amazing. But I need to aspire to be like that. I need to really sweat during practice, not just for shows (eww, I was so sweaty--it was just dripping down. Yuck).

So that's what I need to work on. We have practice this Sunday. I will be a performer then. And every time I get the chance to play taiko. A performer.

The Pink Stuff

I SWEAR I am not really that nervous about our gig tomorrow at Mills College. It's just a gig. Not expecting much in the way of audience. It's more of a practice session with people watching. But today I came down with the worst stomach ache ever. Well, maybe not the worst, but pretty bad. I think it had to do with the giant handful of sugared/salted almonds I ate for a snack today on my ravenous, empty stomach. When I was an undergrad I had a case of what the doctor called a "pre-ulcerous" condition. It felt like getting punched in the stomach by a very big man, continuously. That's what it felt like today, but in great debilitating waves. Not nausea, just pain. While a wave would be hitting me, I'd be thinking, what in the world is causing this? And then I'd try to think of the reasons why, and I would ask myself, is it because of the show tomorrow? And that would make me stress a little and it would hurt more, but really, I am so NOT stressed about the show. Jangly nerves, a little. But I'm not the type of person to fold themselves in half when I get stressed. If I'm stressed, I clean.

It was the almonds. Right? Bad almonds. I was downing the pink stuff all afternoon.

Tonight we practiced a little. We messed up here and there, but in general, none of us were that worried. I need to practice a bit more. Just polishing. Go over my Mokuyobi solo. Run through the sequence of Heiya a bit. It's all good.

Except for those darn almonds.