Handedness

I don't think that my left hand is a part of my body. 

I don't. 

How could a part of my body be so foreign to me? How could a part of my body completely disown me and pretend to not know me altogether? I mean really, my brain is the boss, right? Why then when I ask my right hand to play something it completely agrees with my brain, while my left hand pretends that it hadn't heard the command? Why doesn't it follow orders? Why the adolescent delay? You know how it was when you were a teenager and your parents told you to do something, and you were like, OK, but not because I want to, but then you did it anyway, because you had to. That's my left hand. And it's not like I'm asking it to do anything weird. I'm not asking it to dress up and wear pastel shirts with shoulder pads to their 8th grade picture day or anything (speaking from experience). Mostly I want it to do the same thing the right hand just did, but in rhythmical time. My left hand is such a punk. 

I've been working on sticking drills and I just can't get my left to keep up with my right. The only thing that gives me hope is that Michaelle said she still can't get her left hand to do what she wants--and she practices every day. Ok then. And still I bet that her left hand keeps better time than my right, hands down (get it? get it?).

My newest obsession is trying to get my double bounce roll to sound good. What trips me out is switching from those skinny western sticks to bachi.  Going from western sticks to bachi is like trying to floss with rope, or trying to eat with a ladle instead of a spoon, or wearing clown shoes to a marathon. Do you see where I'm going? But it's good though, because the skills still carry over. Michaelle said it's the technique that shines through, and no matter what you play, if you don't have the skills, then it doesn't matter. 

Which means I need to get busy with my practicing. Every day.