Ch-Ch-Changes . . .

. . . Time to face the strain. Time for me to fess-up, folks.

So I don't know if you can tell from reading this blog, but I haven't been involved with Emeryville Taiko for a while. I've actually been on a self-imposed, somewhat unintentional break. I needed it. I needed the time to look at how far I've come, and what I would like to work on for the future, and while I love E'ville, am so indebted to E'ville, I finally decided that in order to continue to grow as a taiko player (and as a person, really), that I needed to leave the group. I've actually thought this for a long time, but was finally asked to let the appropriate people know, and so I did--via email, which I know is wimpy and I will be the first one to fess up to my wimpiness, cause when it comes to people and talking to people, well, I suck at that, and can be way more coherent and intelligent and thoughtful if I can write it down, cause I'm a writer after all. Sounds lame, huh? It is. I felt lame. But a part of me also felt hugely relieved. I don't like secrets, and I've felt for a while that working on taiko with other people had to be kept a secret, though I don't know why, because no one said it had to be a secret. And by "no one" I mean Janet, and why do I feel that talking about working with her needs to be a secret? (But then again everything that I've been doing has been pretty much documented on this blog which I post on the internet for all the world to see, and my name is right there on the front page though no one knows I'm a blogger--cause it's a secret ;) )

Anyhow, I told E'ville, and thought I was free and clear, and then let Janet know, and though she was glad I had done it, she thought also that I needed to make a personal call, ie, on the telephone (which I hate doing. I hate talking on the phone--it's all about body language and eye-contact for me, because worlds of things are being said just by a flick of the eyes or a shift in weight--but I digress). And I was like, AWWwww!! But I already wrote the email! But another part of me was like: she's totally right. I need to do this to make things right. And she said so herself that it was better to deal with the immediate uncomfortableness rather than feel regretful about something, which I felt a twinge of after I had hit send on that email. And I debated and squirmed for a day or two, but finally made the call, and it was not as bad as I thought. Before I made the call, in my head I was thinking: this really is not the hardest thing you've ever done. You've dealt with way harder and more important things in your life. This is just going to be uncomfortable. And it was uncomfortable. And it did not even come close to being the hardest thing I've ever done.

So there. I did it. And now I don't feel regretful. Well, I will miss my taiko classmates and teacher and the comfort of being part of the large group that had been with me for 5+ years. Maybe I just feel a bit of sadness. But things are always changing. And you are always changing, and the thing that I'm learning about life is that you have to change with the world around you. And things sometimes are in your control, and other things aren't, and sometimes you have to give up the control you only thought you had, and that you have to grab a hold of your life sometimes, just grab it by the ears and pull no matter how hard it hurts and move on and change. And if things don't change for you, then just swallow whatever it is that's holding you back and find ways to make things change. What am I saying really?

Grab it. Grab your life . . . and pull.

Gettin' Crafty

So as we were packing the taiko and equipment up after the school show Janet said we ought to make a bag for the chekere she's been letting me borrow, since the bag it's in is more of a sack than anything. She wanted something with a reinforced bottom and a little more padding. And then of course as we were moving stuff into the cars, someone dropped the chekere (not me! I just heard the thump and was like--CRINGE, there goes the chekere). It didn't get hurt, but just punctuated the need to make a chekere bag even more.

I took a look at Janet's chekere bag, and then looked on the internet for a similar pattern which I modified a bit for size, and added a couple layers of batting, and also changed it so the reinforced bottom could be removed and the bag washed, if desired, ie, if I got so nervous that I vomited on it, or whatever. After most of an afternoon and part of the evening I wound up with this:


Check it out! It's a bag! And this is coming from someone who can barely hem pants. I took one sewing class in high school (to fulfill a requisite, believe me). I wasn't fond of the teacher, but at least I learned how to use a sewing machine.


The chekere fits nice and snug, like a swaddled baby.

If I do this again, I need to figure out how to attach some sort of strap or handle, and maybe add a decoration, and a pocket somewhere inside to stash earplugs. But hey, I'm happy.

Circus For Arts in the Schools

What are you doing next Sunday? If you can, try to make it out to this fundraiser to bring the arts to Alameda schools. Oh, we'll be playing too--5 minutes of pure, unbridled, taiko joy. We practiced really hard, promise. Oh come on, it's for the children!

Check it out: Circus for Arts in the Schools

Some Days

Some days, like today, I get sad. I miss mom. This is what I get for reading old emails. I used to have more sad days than I do now, but they still happen. Lately I've had a lot of exciting and happy things to blog about, but I'd much rather tell mom than blog about them. She'd be excited too. I used to spend so much time hiding in my room, so shy, not wanting to go out and do things or meet new people, and I know that she always wanted me to get out more, and now it's like: Mom! I'm doing all that! I'm talking and having conversations with people and I'm getting on stage and performing and stuff! And then I realize, like on days like today, how much I miss her.

Practice Makes Perfect

Last night for rehearsal we hauled taiko to the new space, which at this point is just that--a space with framework around it. Lots of construction and exposed beams and wires here and there and giant nails scattered on the ground and piles of bricks. But exciting too because you can see enough outlines to tell that things are coming together. Bean and Carolyn were there too and we worked on Mokuyobi for the October 1st gig. Janet said I need to hold back on how loud I play basic so that the soloists can come through. So true. I know I play loud sometimes. I thought I needed to play louder so the solist could hear the basic, especially when it starts to fall apart, but I know I need to work on finding the balance while playing with others. It was just a little comment, but one of those things that people say to you that really sticks--couldn't stop thinking about that all day. I was also trying to work on projecting the energy of my solo, but found some places where the patterns I'm playing take away from the energy, so I'm hoping to do some honing and polishing. That's not a bad problem to have, eh? Especially since just a week and a half ago I hated my solo altogether.

Oh, and I get to show C how to tie an obi. I was joking that it only takes a few hours to learn to tie it, but even making that joke makes me realize how anal I am. Either that or I have OCD. Or maybe it's because I'm a perfectionist. Oh whatever. I admit it, I'm a perfectionist. I practice. I obsess. I'm a freakazoid. That's my idea of fun anyway. You know you do it too.

I think one of those children at the school show coughed on me and gave me their cooties because I've been feeling cruddy all week. And I've been working overtime by coming in early and leaving late so that I can earn enough money to buy that beautiful, beautiful minidisc recorder, but this schedule is just draining me. I was a little relieved last night when I asked if we had rehearsal on thursday but turns out we don't, so maybe I can sit at home and watch premiere week and sip tea.

Can You Say School Show?

Did the school show today! It was fun. It was strange to be on stage with a cafeteria full of kids sitting in neat rows on the floor looking up at you. I remember once as a kid I too sat on the floor in the cafeteria as a group presented their stuff to us--can't remember what it was though, just remember as the grand finale they said they were going to be so loud and wild that the roof was going to fall in, but it didn't, and I was a little disappointed. They were loud though. But it's interesting to kind of see how you remember those things, and maybe one of those kids will remember our show and want to pursue taiko, or something in the arts anyway, and maybe stand up on a stage decades from now, looking down at the same wide-eyed kids they were. Why isn't there more arts in the schools?

All the preparation I did was worth it, and now I feel like I've got a solid school show under my belt, so if you've got a gig, we're available. Janet and Bean have done a million school shows, so I'm sure this was no big deal for them. During the show, Janet would say a word and ask the kids to repeat the word back. She'd play chappa, talk about it, and then say chappa, and then all the kids would say it back. It was a running theme. Listen and repeat. Our closing song was Mokuyobi, and it was really hilarious because Janet would just randomly kiai during the song, and all the kids would kiai back. I kiaied, they kiaied. Bean kiaied--you get the point. I was laughing so hard I could hardly play. Kids are funny. Why do we stop being kids if it's so fun?

Oh, and my Mokuyobi solo went fine. I like it and all, and I've got this new set of movements I really like, but there are places that could use more energy, and maybe I'll work on it some more before the October 1st show. We'll see. I love this deadline thing. Makes me so much more motivated and productive.

Happy weekend everybody.

Help me Obi One

I'm going to flaunt my ignorance here, only because I think it's kind of funny, and maybe you will too, or maybe you'll just groan and cover your eyes, which I did a lot of too. The other night I got my first lesson in obi tying, and I was practicing it again last night because I'm going to be wearing a new kind of costume for the school show, and will have to put it on and tie it myself--probably in a hurry. And I hate tying things in a hurry, and have only recently gotten the tie-the-hachimaki-in-a-hurry thing down (my secret: be sure to get a hair cut before a performance!) But I must have been at it for like an hour before I got it to look decent. And before it started to even look decent, it looked like this (sorry so blurry--it's hard to take a pic of yourself!):


I think it looks like some hideous clown bowtie! Awful! Wrinkly! Sloppy! You better watch out and make sure water doesn't squirt out of that thing. I had a friend looking for obi tying tips on the internet, and I was trying to watch videos of other people's obi, but I figured I just needed to practice. My neck was aching from peering down so much and I was starting to get sweaty, but after fussing with length and figuring out the knotting, I think I finally got something that looked ok. Some people can get the knot to be perfectly square, but I couldn't figure out how they'd do that. Any suggestions? I'll practice again tonight, and if I get the obi on and Janet doesn't laugh at me like she did the other night, I'll count it as a success.

Playing With the Big Kids

When you were a kid, did you ever get the chance to finally play with the bigger, older kids? You know, the ones with all their big-kid wisdom and experience, with their nicer toys and their secret language? And you have no idea how it happened, or why they decided to let you into their world and and let you actually participate in their big kid games, showing you all the cool spots, giving you pats on the back, sharing their in-jokes with you, defining words to you you never understood before? That's totally what happened tonight, and it was only a glimpse, but I felt so wide eyed and in awe. So Janet's old friend and fellow percussionist Bean is in town, and she is going to help out with the school show, which is actually a huge relief to me, and I was a little nervous meeting her because I am so shy, but all for no reason, because she is one of those really nice people you can't help but like, and she kept winking at me as she would jokingly give Janet a hard time, which was kind of funny because I've never seen anyone give her a hard time before.

And it is so obvious that I am a complete novice at this. But am so glad that I studied all the things that have been taught to me just over this past summer. Downbeat, check. Upbeat, check. Bell pattern. Solo preparation. Syncopation. Check. I even used the stepping thing to help me to keep steady time--all on my own, no one told me or showed me, and which is what you gotta do, you know, when you play with the big kids. They are going to play a song I've never performed or seen performed, and so had to learn right there on the fly--had to learn a bell pattern on the spot--and play it on an actual bell. Never did that before. High and low. And new chekere (I'm gonna spell it with a 'c' now) patterns on the upbeat for one part, downbeat for another. I know this, right? Yeah, I do. Cool. I would be playing stuff and I'd look up and Janet would be smiling, and she does that sometimes--usually when I'm all concentrating and stuff, I'll just look up and she's looking back smiling, and I'm not sure what that means. Am I doing it right? Do I look funny? Is she just in her own world smiling? What? What? And she knows me well, because she leaned in at one point and was like, are you recording this? because she knows that's how I learn. And I thought I was recording it, but turns out I plugged the mic into the headphone jack--darn, that was dumb. But didn't I write about this earlier? About how you can't always depend on the MD to record, and have to be able to learn things on your own? It's no big deal, I got it all up here.

I bought a happi coat in SF last weekend because we needed outfits, but when I brought it in, it turned out to look more like sushi-chef than taiko player (it's hard to find happi in September, people), so Janet is lending me a much more beautiful and complicated costume-y thing. I have to learn how to tie the obi so I got a lesson on that, but wound up tying what looked like a huge, ugly bowtie around my waist. Practice, practice.

Everything is so overwhelming, but at the same time exciting. As I was leaving, Janet said she wouldn't put me through all this, all these changes and new things to learn at the last minute (48 hours before!) if she didn't think that I thought it was fun and would be up to it. And indeed, she knows me well, because I do think it is so much fun. Hard, but fun. Up to it? Oh hell yeah.

But what am I doing blogging, when I should be practicing? Gotta go people. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Finito!

Just a quick post to say that last night I was putting the finishing touches on my solo, and at a certain point I realized: Hey, it's finished! I have a Mokuyobi solo I actually kinda like! Now, I know that solos will probably always be works in progress, but I think this is a version I can actually live with and enjoy playing. It's a good length, it's got lots of movement, I like the rhythms, and now all that I need to do is try to project the energy of it. I've got the school show on Friday, and then another two-show gig on October 1st. We'll see what happens, but I'm actually kind of hopeful. Excited, really!

It's all about the good advice and encouragement, people. Just a little bit goes a long way!

Stuff to Ponder

Had a good rehearsal tonight. School show stuff is coming together. I wrote that matsuri solo and actually played it, if imperfectly, tonight. All that shekere practice was worthwhile, and I finally got the sequence down, and it's not as hard as it seemed. I've spent many hours in my abandoned field, so I've been pretty confident with my rudimentary shekere skills. Have you ever seen a shekere solo? I mean, I've seen shekere played as narimono in a larger taiko context, but a solo? Tonight Janet did things to her shekere that I never even thought to imagine could be done to a shekere. She did things to her shekere that I would not (at this point) even dream of attempting. Not even in sleep. Not even as a wild fantasy. Wow. Afterwards, I asked: are your ears ringing? Because mine were, and I think that early onset hearing loss will be knocking at my door soon (if I hear it).

But tonight was a more philosophical night. Janet wanted to work on Mokuyobi solos, and I was just dreading that. And yesterday and today I was working all day on trying to compose a solo, and getting frustrated, and so I pulled back and started thinking about solo stuff. Like, what is a solo really? Is it movement? Is it the patterns? I listened to cds and watched a bunch of solos on dvds, and the thing that I wanted to know was what was going through Janet's mind when she is soloing, and I asked her that much, and she gave me a really thoughtful and thorough answer. And it gave me a lot to think about, and she actually gave me some pointers that were really useful. Actually, she did what I always thought she was really good at, which is to make you feel that whatever it is you're working on is important and meaningful and worth working on even more. Sometimes I'm so caught up in learning new stuff and stressing that I forget that she is really good at encouragement. I told her about how what I do is create loops of the basic, and then spend all day listening to the loop and trying to put a solo on top of it, and how frustrating it is to work on something for a year and still not be happy about what I'm doing. So I have my Mokuyobi solo, which I think sucks and is unoriginal, and she was like, what do you like least about your solo? And nothing much came to mind (well actually everything came to mind but it was too hard to point out one thing), and then she was like, what do you like best? And I found a part that I liked and we worked on that. And then she said, I'll just be your human metronome, and I won't listen to what you're playing, so I played my solo, and she lied because she really was listening, and had me work on projecting my energy in a certain way and also on this one little technique, and it totally rocked my world, and will no doubt influence my form, technique and playing forever. It was just about how I held my bachi, and it was so little and so simple, but really, people, just a little tweak can change everything.

So now it's like I'm a little more energized about creating the Mokuyobi solo, and she spent like what, 15 minutes with me giving me pointers and encouragement, and my mind is spinning, and it's like 1:00 am and my mind is still very much in the 'on' position.

Oh, and another thing. She was saying that I ought to learn more narimono, so she leant me some of her Okinawan--I don't know what they're called--they're kind of like castinets. When I was in Okinawa the street vendors were playing them on the sidewalk and I should have bought some, but never did.

She never really had any formal lessons, so she passed on what she knew about playing them to me, which is hold it like this and then run your fingers over them like that, and just keep messing around with them till you figure something out. I'll have to work on it. They have a nice crisp sound and it would be cool to be good at them. Anyone out there ever play these and have any advice to pass on?


And something really cool is that my little bro came into town because he is going to ride his bike from San Francisco to Los Angeles for a benefit for the Arthritis Foundation. He was saying that the other day he rode for 100 miles! Isn't that amazing? Oh, and he brought a bunch of really cool birthday presents, and one of them was a shaker, which I've had my eyes on for a while, plus koinbobori kites, and a cool cd, and special wires for my MD, and a moleskine notebook and best of all, a New England Patriots jersey that has the quarterback's name and number. Good luck to little bro and his trek down the California coast!!

Quick! Say it With Me: An-ti-ci-pa-tion!

Did you say it? I'm not even sure I did, and I was the one typing it out. Rather, I think the operative word is preparation. So tonight I was at rehearsal, and we're working on getting a school show together, and my problem was that I don't think I was adequately prepared. My fault entirely. I mean, I should have had a solo together, and was actually doing lightening fast solo-composition this morning, but I know myself, and I know that I need all that soaking-in time. Like I can write a solo (painfully) but need the time to let it seep into my bones so that when the time comes, I can just play it. It was amazing that I was doing lightening-fast solo-composition at all, but I just knew, I just knew, that we'd be working on it tonight, but was I prepared? No. Maybe it's the old English major in me that was trying to cram a solo in at the last minute, like writing those 12 page papers at 2 in the morning the day before it's due. I had a roomate once that would ask me to wake her up at 2 in the morning so she could start working on her paper. Now that's last minute if you ask me. She always got them done, though, and I thought that was amazing.

Ok, I'll be the first to admit it. I hate composing solos. It's so painful for me. It's hard. It's hard work. Oh, and did I mention, I wasn't just an English major, I was a creative writing major, so it wasn't just about spitting back facts and arguments from literature, it was about writing literature, or smut, or whatever you want to call it. Creativity. And do you know who my worst critic is against my own creativity? ME. So I'll have a sentence or a paragraph, and guess who's at my shoulder shooting down every word I write? ME. And guess who's at the end of each line of matsuri solo saying that sucks, or that's so unoriginal? ME. But there is something about the pressure of a deadline, or a Thursday night rehearsal that will send the critic running for cover and let me compose or create. Tonight I got home from rehearsal and I was like: I'm so stressed! I need so many solos and I have only so much time, and I need to get this done NOW! So what I did was hunker down and write a matsuri solo I like, and will probably keep in its present form, much like my Kanki no Wa solo I wrote for that concert a while ago. We're still working on Kanki, and I find myself going back to that original solo, but tweaking things here and there, but I like it, and hope that it emerges from stress and deadline a renewed animal. It's the same with this matsuri solo. I'll stress all over it, but it will become engrained within me, and I'll probably remember it forever.

But tonight we were working on Mokuyobi solos, and I totally had this prepared for drum camp, but when it came time to noodle with it, I could not, for the life of me, remember how the @#$% it started. Janet was like, it's good to try to work on changing a solo, but it's also good to keep the beginning the way it is, and I was like, but I can't remember how it begins! I couldn't! I really couldn't! I don't know if it was the pressure of having to actually perform the solo in front of a live person, or if the pressure stemmed from the fact that the live person was Janet, because even after a couple of years of actually working with her and being around her, I am still incredibly shy around her, I don't know why. I mean, when she solos, it's like magic, and when I solo it's like kerplut...don. Also a problem I'm having is that I've been working on coming up with a solo for this song for over a year, and when it comes time to even think about it, my mind just goes blank. What's up with that? Does that ever happen to you? I assume if you're still reading, then you must be a taiko player, or else have some sort of interest. Why do I always run into a brick wall with coming up with a solo for this one?

Anyhow. I have less than 24 hours to come up with solos for another song, and they're short and sweet metered solos, and I'll try to turn off the internal critic while I compose, because I really have no choice. Solo or DIEEE!!

Ok, and because I've had way too much time on my hands lately, or because I've been procrastinating too much on those solos, I've found the new toy that I absolutely must have. It's a minidisc recorder that uploads to your computer effortlessley. If you're a minidisc afficionado, then you know that to get your fabulous recordings onto your computer, you have to play back your recording in real time back to your computer's mic-input--remind you of cassette technology? A friend said, why make those great digital recordings if you have to re-record them back in analog? So why did I pay so much for the fancy mic and the juice box and consider buying the other expensive stuff if I'm just going to be utilizing analog technology?

Look at the pretty picture:


I must have it. Ugh. Keep me busy at work or I will be shopping for this thing endlessly on the internet. Boy o boy is it late for me to be up. Gotta go to bed now. Solos will be replaying through my dreams tonight. Night-night everybody.

Muscles

Every muscle in my legs ache. Plus most of the muscles in my lower arms. Yesterday I was having a hard time just squeezing toothpaste onto my brush--my hands were shaking from fatigue so much. Those Shidara folks sure know how to put on a great workshop, and I know they were going easy on us, but wow, it's hard to imagine how fit they must be to be doing this every day. I took the katsugi okedo workshop in the morning, and have decided that my next taiko purchase will probably be an okedo, if I can learn how to tighten and care for it. They sound cool and I was so blown away by the Shidara folks' playing. They showed us some basic kata and playing techniques, but I can see how you could spend years and years learning how to play that style. We play them just on down stands, and they have a really unique sound to them. Different from the boominess of regular josuke. In the afternoon, I took the Hana Matsuri workshop. We learned basic dance steps to the song, and it was a lot of fun, but the movements were kind of strenuous for those non-dancers (such as myself) out there. Hop forward, back, to the side--you just don't realize how hard that is until you do it for a couple of minutes. But it was a lot of fun--can't walk anymore, but fun.

Random

Feeling very random today again, so I'll just make a list.

1. Three day weekend, yo. I'm going to do the Shidara workshops at E'ville. I'll be sling drummin' and dancing away. I took the dance workshop on purpose because I suck at dancing and movement, so it will be good. I took a movement workshop once with Michelle Fujii and the only thing I really remember from it is that it looks good when your knees are bent so that your legs look like the hiragana letter for 'ku' (kind of looks like the less than or greater than sign, for all you mathematicians out there).

2. Go get yourself Trilok Gurtu & Frikyiwa Family's album Farakala. I can't stop listening to it. Really. I got it over a week ago, and it's been playing non-stop on my ipod. Track 9 is wonderful. And track 5 will make you cry. Actually listening to track 5 feels as good as it does after you've had a good cry. Beautiful. I can't believe you're still sitting here reading this when you could be looking for that album somewhere! Sorry, I lent mine out. Actually, I thrust it upon a friend of mine and said Listen to it! You've got to listen to this!

3. School show in mid-September. If anyone can download a couple of solos into my brain it would be much appreciated. Otherwise I'm working on desk-solos until then. Should be fun.

4. Benefit concert gig on October 1st. Again, looking for downloads. What's harder: playing for a room full of children who are there for the sole reason of seeing you play, or playing for adults who aren't necessarily there to hear you play, but with more pressure to perform better?

5. I thought I had a number 5, but I guess I don't. Have a good weekend everybody.

I Don't Wanna!

Janet makes me do things I don't want to do. And no, I don't mean that she has me stealing other kids' lunch money or is making me do her algebra homework for her. For instance, the other day she wanted to show off our shekere skills to her friend and she asked if I was ready to throw the shekere, and I was like, no I'm too scared!, but she started tossing shekeres around anyway, and you know what? I caught them every time and it was actually really fun. And last night we were working on solos and I was like, oh I don't have a matsuri solo down yet canweworkonsoloslater? And of course she wouldn't let me get away with that so we traded solos around, and I figured since we were noodling around, why not ask how she does spins, because I'm so bad at spins, and so scared of spins, so she gave me some spinning technique pointers and I hope to throw one or two of them in my solo. She told me this story of how one time she did a spin and wound up on the other side of the stage, so that made me feel better, because that's where I'll probably end up anyway.

Ok, so maybe it's not that she makes me do things I don't want to do, but she makes me do things I don't think I can do. So, here's a story. Several years ago, I went on a retreat/group bonding thing at a ropes course. If you've never been on a ropes course before, basically they harness you up and have you move over different obstacles, like on tight ropes or the like, usually high up in the trees. I think the idea is that people are afraid of heights and/or afraid of falling, so everything is mental, because you're not reallly gonna fall because of the harness. Anyway the last task was to climb what amounted to a telephone pole, stand on the (purposely) rickety, dinner plate-sized platform on the top, and jump and catch a trapeze. It doesn't sound that hard, but it was 30 feet up in the air, and while I'm not particularly scared of heights, I am scared of falling. I remember thinking that logically I just need to try to jump and catch the trapeze and if I don't then, eh, I'm harnessed up. That's easy to say when you've got two feet planted solidly on the ground, because when I got up there, I kept hesitating, and the whole logic thing wasn't working, because I was awfully high up there, and I was thinking, I know I can do this, so why then can't I do this? Everyone of the ground was like, come on! You can do it! And the trapeze was so far away, and the platform was very rickety, and did the ground just move? Long story short, I jumped, missed the trapeze, the harness caught me, and I did it. Afterward when they were unhooking me and getting the next person harnessed up, the ropes course guide pulled me aside and gave me a 10-second recap of what she saw, and basically she said that I know I can do it, but I hesitate and that I just need to take the risk. Not just on the ropes course, but in my life in general. What she said made a lot of sense to me, and I've never forgotten it. It's just that not until recently have I really tried to take those risks.

So what if I fall? I mean, isn't it the falling part that makes the story interesting? So what if I spin uncontrollably off stage? I'll find my way back. So what if I drop and break a shekere? I'll learn how to glue it back together. I need to stop thinking that falling is a scary thing. And I guess I'm really lucky that there is someone out there willing to throw stuff at me and send me spinning off into orbit. Makes for a more interesting blog anyway.

Productivity at Work and a Really Good Fish Story

In preparing for last year's big concert, I found myself playing a lot of "desk taiko." Desk taiko is wonderful because you can compose solos and work on the sequence of those complicated songs and when someone walks in and asks you if so and so's final high school transcript came in, you just stop tapping and look up innocently and no one will know that what you've been doing is playing a wonderful, error-free version of Kai to Ryu or whatnot. In one of my rare flashes of brilliance, I decided to improve on the whole desk taiko idea and designate certain sections of my desk with post-it's. I'm working on a 2-shime, 2-josuke song, so each post-it symbolizes each. Brilliant! I love post-its! Disclaimer: Oh, and of course I only play desk taiko on breaks and at lunch.

Last night we went to the new space with drums and played there for the first time. It was boomy and the old broken-out windows rattled, but there was good energy there. Just put up some curtains and finish the construction, and what you'll have is a wonderful community center.

And because this post is turning out to be so random, here's a really great fish-story my Dad told me:

Just got back with a dorado (Mahi-Mahi) fish. It was a great trip; Eloise, the lady who invited Mom and I to go on the Lake Powell trip [a week-long houseboating adventure] was there. This was the first time she came out fishing with us because of back trouble. Anyway [a neighbor of ours] was celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary. I ordered Hawaiian Leis for his family. It really added a nice touch especially when they decided to go informal--Hawaiian shirts. They gave me one of the leis to wear, and later when I went fishing I took it to give to Eloise. She liked it very much and later suggested we throw it in the ocean for Mom. We did just that and guess what? Later I watched as a really big fish bit her line. It was a 101 pound Striped Marlin. With the aid of the deckhands and the skipper she was able to land it. I can't believe she took it home whole; it was about 6' tall and barely fit in her mini-wagon.While she was fighting the fish everyone stoppped fishing to watch her battle this big fish--what a show. Remember she's around 65 years or older.

Did I ever tell you about how my Mom had these strange powers? Like if she really wanted something to happen, she could will it. Or if she really disliked someone or a situation, her powers somehow found a way to rectify the situation or (gulp) the person. For instance, when I was waiting for college acceptance letters, I really wanted to get into UCSC, and my Mom told me that she was working on it, and guess what? I got in. And stranger things too. Ok, so you don't have to believe me, but I think her powers are still at work, and she's not really that far away. She was probably thanking Eloise for inviting her to go on that houseboating trip. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if my life is going so well because my Mom is pulling some strings up there or what. I know it's far-fetched, but I believe it.

And here's some pics. Warning: graphic images. Do not look if you are offended by sashimi.



And my Dad's Mahi Mahi:


Pretty cool, huh? I'm getting hungry for sushi now . . .

Thanks K.B.!

Holy Flying Shekere, Batman!

I've had 4 shekere lessons and last night we were practicing throwing them to each other. It's like I'm in one of those intensive Spanish language courses where you learn two years of stuff in one 6-week course in Mexico City or something. So not only am I trying to get a decent sound out of the thing, but I'm playing patterns, stepping, learning the sequence of a piece, and now, throwing. And I'm not talking about tossing it up in the air and catching it (which is hard enough in itself) but throwing shekeres back and forth. I toss mine, I catch hers. We went outside to practice this, but because we're always up for a challenge, we were doing this in the dark--oh, and did I mention one of the shekeres was black? I'm having problems with my timing because I hesitate. Wouldn't you hesitate? My biggest fear is breaking one of them, so flying, colliding shekeres are on my mind when I'm in the dark tossing a black shekere at someone who says, trust me, I'll catch it (but drops it once anyway). I need to get over that. I was thinking of bringing over basketballs or something to practice with. One time I was wathing a PBS show about people who train to be in the secret service, and they learn how to do all kinds of fancy defensive driving in sports cars. The theory is is that if they learn how to do these complicated maneuvers in really nice cars, then they can do them in those heavy clunky presidential vehicles. Basketballs aren't exactly Mustangs, but at least they don't break when you drop them.

But I'm not complaining. I'm so excited to be learning the shekere! Everyone go learn the shekere!

Step AWAY From the Couch

Not much time to blog today, as I have to run off to a staff retreat, but wanted to get this down. In my last post I hinted about how I had tons of hard work coming my way, and last night all the hard work suddenly hit me and boy, is it a lot of fun! I have a million things to learn, and another million to work on. Last night alone we worked on shekere (I'm going to spell it with an 's' today), a couple of six-patterns, a funky-funky song, and a new twist on the traditional matsuri. Just last night! I'm learning how to toss the shekere (in time) while stepping on the downbeats. I was practicing the tosses while standing over a couch in case I dropped the shekere, and after a while she looked over and asked me, do you want to step away from the couch now?, and in my head I was like, you mean we can't take the couch with us to performances? But really, it's a lot of fun. And the six patterns are way cool. I'm starting to like this whole six pattern thing despite all the stressing out I do here on this blog. She was teaching me this new pattern and then left me on that groove while she played shekere (you see how things connect and come together?) and then she was playing some other patterns and I had to try to ignore her, but at the same time I was thinking, that sounds so cool! And then we worked on the matsuri piece, and while the patterns are familiar, the kata and energy is all different. I have to do this really fast movement and I don't know how she does it so fast. I wacked myself pretty good trying to get my hand in the right place at the right time, but eh, par for the course. Oh, and I have to come up with a solo for that. And then funky-funky song. I know that one day we will be able to play it and make it sound good, but it's gonna take some work. The work will pay off, but I'm so not there yet. Ack! And I have to have that sherkere stuff down by tomorrow, and work on my horse-beat and be able to solo on that tomorrow and also work on a couple of other songs! I'm telling you, it sounds really crazy right now, but I love it!

It's the Little Things

I walked into my office the other day and was greeted by this little treasure:


It's my Mom's miniature African Violet and it's in bloom! Finally! After caring for it for the past 8 months, it's finally strutting its stuff! And her other two violets are just pregnant with unopened blossoms, so I'm really excited about that. I also have some of her aloe, and for a while it looked like it was on the verge of death, but it sprouted new baby shoots and is looking lively again. And I've also been looking after another plant of hers that for the longest time I couldn't identify. Turns out it's an orchid, and it's growing new leaves all the time, and I can't wait for it to grow a flower--it'll be a suprise because I have no idea what color or shape it will be.

Remember when I had that perpetual rain cloud following me around all the time? I don't want to jinx anything, but I think I've managed to give it the slip. My Mom's flowers are opening, and so is my life. There are new and exciting things coming my way. It's going to be a lot of hard work, but the best kind--I'm so focused and inspired right now (more on that later). You know, sometimes you just need to give things a little time and care and attention, and they'll come back around and surprise you--often when you least expect it. And if you really think about it, having a rain cloud follow you around for a little while actually helps things grow.

Co-duh-oh-ordination

I think of myself as a pretty coordinated person. I can walk and chew gum at the same time--heck, I can even ride a unicycle and chew gum at the same time. But I always short-circuit when I'm trying to play a rhythm with my hands while stepping the downbeats on my feet. Last night we were working on playing bell pattern on chekere (sp.?) and I was trying to get my feet to step on the downbeats and I was just having such a hard time. Why is that? Is it because as taiko players we are so often reminded to make sure we are firmly grounded in our kata that it becomes a monumental task to unground ourselves? I know I can do it--was even beginning to get it, but it feels like I'm trying to rip my legs out of the earth like one of those giant Ents. But the cool thing is that I'm going to work on it today and I'm gonna get it, and then I'll be able to play it forever, and then everywhere I walk I'll be playing chekere/bell pattern. And there is something about pulling my legs up off the ground that is very liberating for me. Yes, it's great when you're in good playing position and receiving all that energy from the earth, but there is also a wonderful feeling when you're dancing, and you can jump and be free and fly. And it's just so fun when you fly and touch down and pull all the energy up from the ground and then set off again. That's what it kind of feels like when I can do the stepping thing. I'm like a birdling, or a chicklet or whatever baby birds are called--just learning how to spread my wings and taking baby steps and tiny flights. But just you wait, I'll be soaring soon.

P.S. (Added Later)

Note to self: While you may not be able to whip out the chekere during your lunch break and practice inside an empty classroom, you can, in a pinch, get a pretty good approximation and feel of a chekere out of a tin of half empty Altoids (flavor optional). I'll have to remember that.

Sp.?

Is it spelled shekere or chekere??

Chekere Land

So yesterday I went roaming around campus looking for a good place to practice the chekere. I didn't want to be near anyone, and I didn't want to get too close to the dorms, or the President's house, or the security building, or the offices. I eventually ended up in one of the far reaches of the campus, past the swampy mosquito-laden lake, up an embankment, over a drainage ditch and right next to the freeway in a grassy/wooded area that looked like the dumping grounds for giant slabs of concrete. Kind of cool in a desolate/urban kind of way, but also kind of creepy since there was absolutely no one around to hear me scream, for instance. But it was here that I found the peace and quiet and isolation I wanted to practice.

Now, I knew the chekere was loud when we practiced inside, but outside, it's even louder. I was getting major echo-age just off the trees, and I had to put on earplugs. Oh, and did I mention it's hard to play? It took me a while just to get a feel for it, but once I was starting to get a sound out of it, it was kind of cool. And then I started getting into it, and was beginning to think about some form stuff--like how to hold it, and where to put my hands, and how to extend my fingers and which muscles to use. And then I remembered that I shouldn't be holding it too close to the middle part because that's where it's weakest and it could break, and then I started to get worried that I'd break it, and how bad I'd feel if I broke it. And then I kind of lost the momentum I had, but also came to the realization that what I really ought to do is get my own chekere, and then I too can become a chekere master! Or something like that--we'll see.

Shake Your Booty

Guess what? I'm learning the chekere!! It's so freakin' awesome. I'd seen Janet play and I always thought it was so cool. And then I saw her play it with two other people at Drum Camp and I was thinking: I so want to learn how to play that! And then right afterwards she asked me if I wanted to learn, and I was like, YES!!! And now I'm learning!!

For those who don't know, a chekere is a gourd (or a synthetic version of one) with a net of beads tied around it that you shake to produce a very sharp sound. You can make swishy or clacky noises. But the cool thing is that it frees you up from the confines of a taiko so you can dance around or have other types of movement along with it. Janet is trying to work me up to the point where we can play at the same time and eventually toss them back and forth. Right now I'm just happy learning how to get a sound out of it. She had me work on trying to play the bell pattern on it, and she was saying that that was kind of a difficult thing to learn first thing, but then she said, "Well I know you're gonna practice it." And I am! I totally am! She actually let me borrow one of her chekeres. She wanted me to borrow her unbreakable chekere, but then she changed her mind and had me borrow a nicer one. I'm so scared of dropping or breaking it. Last night I even dreamed I was practicing with one and the whole top of it broke off, and then I had another dream where I cracked it. Oh, but I'm so excited to be learning this! The only hard thing is that my apartment has paper-thin walls, and I was messing around with it last night and then I heard a baby in the house next door start crying, so I stopped. I'm gonna try to find some secluded niche here at work and practice after hours.

My life is so cool!! I'm learning the chekere, people! How cool is that!!!?

Drum Camp!

I already know that whatever I write in this entry will not do justice to describe how amazingly wonderful drum camp was for me. I've already thanked Janet for giving me this opportunity, but I couldn't quite say how thankful I was to her because I was still in such jaw-dropping, speechless, awe when we parted ways. There were so many wonderful and inspiring people there. The teachers were each masters in their own fields, and they had such powerful stories to tell. Some of them had to struggle so hard just to be able to earn the right to play drums, and some of them were never given the right to play, but they played anyway. Can you imagine how passionate they must be about playing if they had to go through so much humiliation and heartbreak and yet still continue to defy everyone--including their own teachers/mentors/classmates/parents/etc--just to do something they love? Amazing. You couldn't just sit there and not be moved or humbled. I feel like I've taken so much for granted. Any woman can just walk into a taiko class and someone will gladly hand her a pair of bachi and start teaching away, and you just never realize how other people had to struggle to be in the same position (not necessarily in taiko, but in other fields). These women broke down those walls and used the rubble to pave the road for the rest of us. And don't think that because they're not playing taiko that we aren't all connected, because we are, and there is so much to learn from each and every one of them and it's so good to know that there are tons of us out there.

The camp was at a conference center in the Marin Headlands, which is probably one of the most beautiful places in the Bay Area. It sits on some bluffs overlooking stark coastline, and is also in a crazy microclimate, because while we were enjoying comfortable sunny days and cool nights, the rest of the state was absolutely sweltering in a horrible heat wave, and we were like, what heat wave? Check out the view:


Janet is a wonderful teacher, and it was so much fun being her assistant. If you ever have the chance, take a class with her. She is so patient and inspiring and makes you feel good about playing. Very important. Anyhow, we taught really basic beginning stuff, and the thing that I discovered after seeing all different styles of drumming, is that people don't move a whole lot. I think that's why other types of drumming can be so complex and intricate--because they can just sit or stand there and concentrate on what they're playing. But us taiko players? No way. We had them integrating movement with the rhythms. It was a challenge but they were up to it and they did good, and with good taiko spirit.

But one of the real joys of this was being able to take other classes. There were so many different styles to choose from and it was hard to only choose 3. The first class I took was from Carolyn Brandy, a long-time percussionist and one of the organizers of the event, and whom, I was told, is probably responible for bringing drumming to 80% of the women who are out there drumming today. And she is an awesome teacher. The class I took was about the very basics of rhythm. You know how I always struggle with timing and understanding what it means when someone says downbeat or upbeat or where's the one? or whatever? Well, she broke it all down for us and explained some very basic concepts. And she explained this stepping thing that Janet does when she is trying to figure out a song, and which I never really understood, but it finally got explained to me, and I even applied it to learning another song in a different workshop, so it was totally worth it. I'll never walk the same--there will always be music in my step. The second workshop was with an amazing dumbek player named Susu. I've never played the dumbek before, but I was starting to like the sound I was getting out of it, and was even more impressed with the sounds she was getting out of it, and now I'm kind of curious about persuing it--but in the future. And the third class was from a player named Michaelle. Someday when I grow up I want to be Michaelle. She can play everything. And she can play everything fast and accurately and with great spirit. She was riffing on her drum and her hands were moving up and down, but her sticks were playing 4 times as fast. Amazing. Have I worn out the word amazing yet? You'd think as a creative writer I'd have better adjectives--but no. In Michaelle's class we were working on some Brazillian Samba rythms that were hard to work out, but the stepping thing helped. Isn't that cool? Full circle.

Oh, and our performance. That was the hard part for me. We were the closers, and closing after following a full night of phenomenal players just put my stomach in all kinds of knots. These people know their beats and timing and they know how to put on a good show, and they pulled out all their tricks and I was just sitting there the whole time, completely blown away, but at the same time, getting more and more nervous. My hands were shaking, and I held them up to Janet, and she said, Oh, don't start that now, and so I had to ground myself, and go to my taiko roots, and the one thing that kept me going was knowing that I love taiko, and the most important reason I play taiko is because it brings me such joy, and though I could never even shake a bachi at the talent that was being laid out before us, I know that I have a passion for playing those taiko drums, and that's not something I can hold back on, so I focused on that. I am a taiko player. I love taiko. And so that's what I had on stage. And when I play taiko, it is with my heart, and not fancy chops or any particular rhythmic talent or great moves, but right here at the center of me. It's my kiai-power. It's my love of the don and its deep resonance and the ka's that pop out and greet you like old friends, and all my taiko friends who have brought me this far, and every hour of practice, and every blister and every bachi that ever flew out of my hands, and the hours spent at work composing desk-solos and all the concerts I've ever been to, and all the concerts and gigs I've been a part of, and the ache in my legs as we stood there playing the same part over and over, and the hours spent arms up in the air playing odaiko, and all that drum-moving and hauling, and all those kind words of encouragement from everyone who ever taught me anything, and the kind words from those I taught, and the joy it brought me before we lost mom, and the joy I could still find even after we lost her, and especially Janet, who has brought me this far, and continues to give me hope and encouragement and who helps me to find myself, the soul of me, even though I don't tell her how much I appreciate it as much as I should or often enough. And even though I'm no great soloist, I played every beat. Set it. Played it. Nailed it. It was a good performance. The other drummers came up to us afterward and gave us such kind words, and it just made me happy. I'm still happy--about everything.

Ahhh. That's what it is. Just--AAAhhhhhhh.

And like I said, everything fit back into the cars, cause it always fits:

And we still had energy afterward to ham it up a bit with the fabulous practice-taikos:

And so if you can't make it to drum camp next year, try to make it to some other non-taiko drumming workshop. And if you're a woman, go meet and network with those other woman drummers because they are wonderful people, and your friends, and such great spirits in the rhythmic world.

Oh, I'm so happy. A happy camper.

Why Taiko Players Are So Happy On Stage

Today I went in for our rehearsal for the Drum Camp. Turns out I'm going to be the Demo-girl. Janet will do her talking thing, and I get to hold a steady beat and add the spice and drama to make things interesting. I'm just glad I don't have to talk, but I've got 24 hours to get down my "gallop." Today I was shaking and nervous. Don't know why. Also I was listening to the things she was saying, and they were really interesting, so my steady beat would get off. But I have to also listen for my cues, and tonight is my only night to get things down, and I have a little of tomorrow too, but I didn't record anything, so I'm going on memory here. I'll be fine, but remember how before I said I was a perfectionist, so I'm over-worrying, and I'm discovering lately that that's one of my flaws. But at least I realize that, and that's a start.

Anyhow, the real challenge of today was trying to figure out how to get all the drums and equipment into our two cars. We've got something like 15 drums for the taiko class, plus other drums for the other classes we're allowed to take, plus stands, and other miscellanity. I think Janet is going to have to take 2 trips, and my faithful jeep is packed. But since I live in a fairly urban area with lots of foot traffic, I didn't want to leave all that stuff just sitting in my car overnight. So I brought up some of the stuff to my second-floor apartment:



I'm telling you. Moving the equipment is a giant task in itself. And today was hot. And the drums are heavy. And there are steps, and lifting. And stuffing. And reconfiguring and unpacking and repacking once you get things in there. As we were doing some particularly heavy lifting, Janet was saying that the reason why taiko players are so happy on stage is because they have to do all this before they even get to be on stage. So true. Playing taiko is so much funner and happier than digging out things from their resting spots and then lugging them up and over and downstairs and around the cats and into the car. But you know what? I'm not complaining. I don't mind at all. I love it actually. Love touching and moving the drums. Love trying to figure out the puzzle of how it's all gonna fit, cause it always fits. You ever notice that? Always.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho...

...it's off to camp I go. I feel like I'm recycling the title for my post from some other entry. Anyhow. I'm going to Drum Camp this weekend--not to be confused with Taiko Camp later on this September, which I'm not planning on attending, though I know a good time will be had by all. The camp I'm going to is a drum camp for women called Born to Drum. It should be pretty awesome. I'll be there as an assistant teacher, but really, I'm going to be learning way more. Even the assisting will be a learning experience, since I'll get to observe how a totally beginning taiko class is taught to non-taiko players. Not that I haven't seen something like that before, but the context and expectations will be different. These women come from all kinds of drumming backgrounds, and one of the perks of this is that I'll have time to take drumming classes from different disciplines. It should help me along towards my goal of learning everything there is to learn. And the other teachers are amazing drummers in their own fields. I'm telling you, I'm going to be surrounded by greatness.

Now there's just the matter of my solo, which has been coming along well. I think I try to make things more difficult than they need to. I was trying to start it out with a flourishy type of roll, and I was having the hardest time trying to remember was it a 5 beat roll or a 6 beat, and was there a flam at the very start, and will I remember when it comes time to start my solo, or will I just freeze? but then I was like, why don't I just start it with a don-don-don since it is just as effective, and since it really is just an opening to get me into some movement. And then there is the movement. I was making it really hard on myself because I don't really have a lot of cool moves, so I just borrowed some of the moves that were already built into the meat of the song, and I was tweaking those a bit to fit into my solo. I don't have a problem with that because I don't think it's a bad idea for portions of a solo to tie into the rest of the song. I read somewhere that one guy thinks you should be able to hum the melody of a song along with the drummer's solo. I don't know if I'd go to that extreme, but hey if you have big arms in the meat of the song, seeing big arms in the solo shouldn't be totally foreign.

So I'm feeling more confident. I'm gonna nail this. Hopefully it'll be this weekend, but if not I know in the end I'm going to have a solo I like. Love even.

Oop, Was That Me?

Got to play more taiko today. We've been working on putting together new rhythms and movement, and it's hard for me--especially the movement. But I was actually getting it today, and I was starting to feel the rhythms in my body, and I think it made my body happy, and even though it was hard, I knew that a certain rhythm was going to come in and we were going to do a turn or something, and I couldn't help it, but you know what came out of me? (No, not what you're thinking!) A hup! Not just a regular, lifeless, part-of-the-song hup, but a real honest to goodness kiai! One of those joyful kiai's that just escape you because you're having fun and you know what you're doing and it just feels good. I haven't felt one of those in a long time. I mean, I've kiai-ed recently, but sometimes you kiai to add energy and spice to a song. I do a lot of kiai's with E'ville to try to get them to kiai too, though I'm not sure it always works, and sometimes I put all that energy into kiaing my heart out and I'm not sure I get the energy back in quite the same way. But today's kiai was different. It came from a totally different place. It was totally unintentional and it kind of surprised me, because I was like, what was that? Did I do that? And then I realized that yes, I made that sound, and wow, that felt good, and I did it again and again, and I think I got my kiai back; I hadn't even realized that I'd lost it.

Who Says Generic Food Can't Be Sophisticated?

Couldn't resist posting this. This morning as I was pouring myself some cereal, I looked down at the back of the box and saw this. They've got profiles of Alexander Calder and George Seurat on the back! Plus some ideas for your own Calder-or-Seruat-inspired artwork! Isn't that the coolest thing? When I was a kid they just had stupid word-finds or what's wrong with this picture? junk on the back. Modern art on the back of cereal boxes? The world isn't such a bad place after all.

Arms

Arms. We've all got em. Some people have long arms. Some people have short arms. Some people have 1 arm and most people have 2, but one kid has 3 . My problem is that I'm not sure what to do with mine. I'm talking about solos here. I'm working on a down stand solo, and I really have to make it interesting, and I think the key to interesting is arms. I've been watching all sorts of taiko videos and people are doing wonderful things with their arms: there's flipping and turning and all kinds of spinning going on. Why am I having such a hard time trying to figure out what to do with mine? I figure, arms are pretty much fixed to the body so there are only a limited amount of movements possible. There is up/down, side-to-side, and a range of circular movements that are just variations of up/down and side-to-side.

The story behind this solo is that I worked on it and had it all set for the concert, and what happens is that the solos happen one after another with a cue that one soloist gives to the rest of the group to signal that her solo is over and it's time for the next person to start. Problem was, was that I heard the cue, but the others didn't, so they were all kind of like, huh? and I was starting my solo and it just totally threw me off. I wound up noodling and trying to remember how my solo went and ended up only playing half of it. Since then I've been traumatized by the whole song and just thinking about it embarrasses me horribly. But I think the one thing that saved me and kept me from running off the stage and curling up into a ball in the dressing room is some advice I read once in a drumming book, which is: when in doubt, roll.

Anyhow. I am determined now to get over my embarrassment and come up with a really good set solo for that song. It's not going to go away, and it really is a good, solid, crowd-pleasing song. There's no reason to be scared, and I'd like to just conquer this. When I first learned the song, it was really exciting to hear how the different parts really locked in together, and I was like, wow! I didn't know taiko could do that!

So, I've still got the problem of what to do with my arms. The person I'm playing with does things with her arms that make you wonder if she has special joints installed. Her solo is really fun to watch, and I know that at this point in my solo-composing career that anything I do will kind of pale to her solo. Which is fine, it just means I have a lot to learn.

TAIKO!

My mind is spinning. I'm all inspired and excited and sleepless again because I got to play some taiko. It's not as easy as it was before--maybe because the expectations are different and that's fine. I don't need to go over each piece and part slowly over and over again--I'm more able to jump right in. If she says play this, then it's like, ok, I have to play that. But I'm realizing that my understanding of music is all about listen and repeat, and I need to learn some really basic stuff. She was showing me her notes and although it was written out on graph paper instead of western musical notation, it was all gibberish to me. And another time she was like, can you play the "one" downbeat on this drum and the other downbeats on that drum? And it took me a while, because I wasn't sure what the "one" was, and I only just recently understood what a downbeat is, but eventually I got it. I'm so glad she's so patient with me. Oh, and did I mention the song is in six?

Which means I have to try harder. That's the best part. I like trying harder. The challenge is hard and a little intimidating, but that's really what it's all about, pushing yourself. But I also need to be able to give more input, and I know that's one of my weaknesses--not just with taiko, but with me in general. And another one of my weaknesses is the ability to remember what I've just been taught. It's ok if it's a call and response thing, but I need to remember. Of course, that's what my minidisc recorder is for, but yesterday it decided to stop recording after about 5 minutes or so, which for me is like getting amnesia. I know it's bad to rely on that thing to learn songs, but it also is such a help to me when I can review what I've recorded. If the technology is there, and there's no reason not to, then why not use it? But it's not like in life there will always be MD's to save your butt, and sometimes they don't let you use them, and sometimes, if you haven't played taiko in a long time, your MD runs out of batteries.

Ah, but this is all good. I'm excited. I have a bunch of things to work on. I have a solo that I need to polish. I played it at the concert in November, but I messed up royally, and I need to just get over it and work on it again. I want to help rework another song we were working on. I need to hear how some patterns fit together. But I'm loving it!

Of 1-800-Dentist and Flaking Out on Taiko

I NEVER flake out on things. I need to start out by saying that. I am not a flake. But tonight I feel like such a flake, even though I know I'm not really, and a friend keeps telling me I'm not. I even called an hour and a half ahead to cancel. But I still feel like such a flake. I'm hoping posting to this blog will somehow redeem me. Or at least it'll be slightly interesting. Or maybe it will just make me feel better to get it off my chest.

Anyhow, for the past week, I've been in dental hell. Now let me tell you--I've been through it all. I've had braces--twice, retainer, headgear, rubberbands, major surgery with jaw-wired-shut, gum grafts, crowns, root canals, multiple extractions, more cavities than I have teeth, and canker sores spawned by satan himself. Mouth pain? Bring it on. But when I was in LA, a tooth that had been sensitive for a long time (kept putting it off, ignoring it) just erupted into full-on pull-out-your-hair pain. It was like getting your tooth drilled without novacaine. Like plucking out your fillings and then blowing on them and then eating ice-cream. Bad. The worst thing was that it hurt the most when I was lying down, as in, when I was trying to sleep. I haven't slept soundly in over a week.

Now, I just want to say that after watching my mom suffer, I have no right to talk about pain. What I felt was not real pain. It was just discomfort. Real pain is not blog-worthy. Real pain is something that only people a hundred times stronger than I can endure. I just want to put that out there. I'm being a big baby right now.

Anyhow. Have you seen those totally cheezy commercials for 1-800-Dentist? This blog entry is a totally cheezy commercial for 1-800-Dentist. Last December I went to my dentist in LA and he said if my tooth started to hurt bad later, then I ought to go see about a root canal. Well, it hurt. I was up here in the Bay Area, and I contacted 1-800-Dentist and right away they put me in touch with a dentist. Can I just say, I called on Tuesday morning, got an appointment for Thursday morning (that's today--I could have gotten an appointment for the same day, but was busy), and the universe being in the right alignment, or schedules falling just right, or karma, or Mom looking down on me to make things happen, or whatever--I'm done. Thursday evening and I'm done and there is only the residual ache of keeping your mouth open for an hour and raw gums and all that stuff that goes away in a couple of days. Hallelujah! Hallelujah for 1-800-Dentist! You have pain? Call them! They're totally worth their weight in cheese. The best kind too. Of cheese, I mean.

Anyhow. Things happened so fast. Dentist-guy called Endodontist guy and got me an appointment for 2 hours later. Last time I got a root canal, Endodontist-lady just talked and took x-rays. No same-day appointments like today. The guy was like, ok, here's what we can do, and if you like, we can give you a root canal, and I was like, ok, and then he had to leave the room and the nurse was like, here's your pillow and special goggles, and I was like, What??!?? You're going to do it right now? And she was like, Yeah, it'll only take an hour. But what I'm not telling you folks was that it was 4:15, and I had a date at 6 to go play taiko with taiko master J, and Endo-guy was busy and running late, and I knew that wisdom teeth (did I tell you it was my wisdom tooth? One of the main reasons why I was putting it off so long) might be a little tricky, and he even said so himself. So I was doubting this whole 1-hour concept, and my heart was beating fast, and I had other places to be, so I called Taiko Master J (TMJ) and told her, oh, can we re-schedule? And she was pretty cool, and asked, Is there anything wrong? And I was like, I'm sitting in the doctor's office and I'm about to get a root-canal. But of course she didn't have all the history like I just told you. And we re-scheduled for some time this weekend, depending on TMJ's schedule.

But then I was sitting in the death-recline of the dentist's chair (ok, endodontist) and I realized, Hey, I could have just told her I was going to be late!!! What an idiot I am! I was totally looking forward to this meeting for however long we were talking about it for!! Crap!! I SSOOOooo wanted to play taiko tonight!!! I was so looking forward to it!! I was even excited when I woke up this morning! And the thing that sucks was that I actually could have made our appointment! So Dumb! I feel so dumb! Especially since I told her I would make it, and have ALWAYS, always in the past made it to my commitments. I NEVER flake out!!! NEVER! I guarantee!!!! I'm always the one who's there early. But I didn't want to call her after I told her I wouldn't be coming to say that I actually could make it. That would be even worse. Oh I feel so bad. So dumb. I always jump the gun on those kinds of things. Always err on the side of caution. Because really, I had no idea how long a root canal on a wisom tooth would take. And I didn't want to be late. Oh, but I could have made it! And I need taiko in my life so bad! Oh, I'm such a jump-the-gun-idiot!!!

But like I said, we re-scheduled for this weekend. She's busy too--did I mention that? A busy person. And anyway, she was like (as I was reclining on the chair of no-return) Oh, I've had tons of root canals. At least you don't DIEEEE! And I, sitting the Endodontist's office, many months overdue for this root canal was like, Oh, you're not scaring me AT ALL! And she laughed, and promised to call this weekend.

I'm fine by the way.

Gone Fishin'

Went down to LA this past weekend for a father's day visit. My Dad invited me to go fishing with him on a boat just off the coast of where I'd spent my childhood summers boogie boarding and building sand castles. He likes fishing the way I like taiko. Actually, I think he likes fishing even more than I like taiko. He's been fishing since he was a teenager, but I think he put it on hold when he had us kids. He did take us out a couple of times to fish in nearby lakes. I remember once my older brother hooked my little brother's ear, and then I don't think we ever went fishing after that. But after we were all grown up and my dad retired, he totally got into it. He even joined a club and everything. As we were packing up, I realized that he and I are exactly the same:

Exhibit A: Dad's Stash


Exhibit B: Mine

Do you see the similarities? Am I my father's daughter or what?

Anyhow, we headed down to the Redondo Beach Marina and boarded a boat with a bunch of other fishermen. As we were waiting, my Dad taught me how to cast a line out without taking anyone's eye out (or ear). My Dad said the water that day was pretty smooth, but for a novice like me, it had that nauseating rolling quality to it. Good thing I took a pill--didn't feel a thing.

Now, I don't really think of myself as a fishing kind of person. Waking up early and boarding a boat to trick seafood into taking my bait isn't my idea of weekend plans. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Some people can't handle the sport; my little brother doesn't like the gore of it (maybe because he's traumatized by being caught by my big bro?). But I have to say--fishing is kind of fun. Actually, one of the funnest parts for me was putting live anchovy on my hook. You grab the little fish out of the bait tank and, according to my dad, cover its eyes so it doesn't squirm as much. Then you put the hook through it's nose and let it swim away and then hope something much bigger eats it. I don't know why this appealled to me so much. I did not torture insects or small animals growing up. I think it may have something to do with being at the top of the food chain for once. It's as if I'm out there pretending to be a lowly anchovy, but when a barracuda bites into me, I'm the one who's catching the barracuda. And I really did catch a barracuda this past weekend! I had to throw it back though--it wasn't the legal size--but hey, at least I can say, "Yeah, I caught a barracuda once--scrappy little sucker." My dad also turned his pole over to me when he had something very large on the other end. I apparantly "chased it down the rail," meaning I had to run down the side of the boat so that he didn't get tangled in the other fisherman's lines. It pulled and pulled, but it eventually got away. Yeah, it was gigantic--could have been a 65 pound yellow tail, maybe. Maybe 75 pounds. Almost pulled me in. Yeah. Well anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Here's what I actually pulled out of the ocean:

They may look small, but believe me--they put up quite a fight! And here's me and my dad. He listens to his ipod all the time. Reminds me of me.

Well, everyone should try fishing at least once.

Of Camping and Life and even Taiko

Went camping this past weekend at a spot near Santa Cruz called New Brighton State Beach. It's a beautiful place right up against the Pacific Ocean. The weather was perfect--warm but not too hot. We went swimming and made campfires and worked on our sunburns. The water was strange. We were bobbing out past where the waves were breaking and the water would be very warm, and then as a wave came by, the water would turn very cold. I've always been drawn toward the ocean, but at times it terrifies me--usually when I am in it. I think there is something very sexy about the ocean. It's this presense that is so much bigger than we are, and you can just walk right up to it and put your toes in, while at the same time it has the ability to swallow you up or hold you in its wide embrace or nourish you, and you can cup it in your hands and when you spread your fingers it's gone just like that.



I first came to this beach over 10 years ago. I have to credit the lady bus driver who saw us, Mary and I, as we emerged out of the Santa Cruz wilderness, cold and half-soaked from a night spent in the forest--no tent, no fire, nothing. We were looking for a weekend away from the university, so we grabbed some food from the dining hall and sleeping bags and water and set out with nothing but a few dollars and our good-anywhere university bus pass that we used to get us the furthest point on the bus route we could get. I have to admit that first night was a bit scary, since all I'd known of camping was the comfy tents and the warm glow of lanterns and nothing of the cold. The lady bus driver said she knew of this beach where you could just walk in and she dropped us off as close as she could get to the campground. We hiked in and slept on the ground without a tent in the middle of November. It was cold, but a true adventure. These days I opt for a tent and even acquired my first real camping stove (which is a real luxury, believe me). Someday when I grow up I'm going to invest in a folding chair and maybe a table cloth, but for now, I'll keep roughing it.

This was one of the best parts, check it out: I'm roasting chestnuts over an open fire!



And while I love camping, taiko continues to brew. I actually haven't been to class for a while, instead, have been enjoying living life a little. Did the running thing. Did the camping thing. Visited family. Saw an old friend. I'm working on finishing reading a really good book, which is something I haven't been able to do since my mom got sick. Just haven't had the concentration. For the longest time, all I did was fold origami cranes--thousands and thousands of them. Didn't want to talk to anybody. Didn't want to go out. Didn't want to watch tv. I just folded cranes first thing when I woke up, and on my lunch break, and stayed up late and folded cranes until I was too tired to do anything else (I'm trying to sell them on ebay, by the way). I had stuff to work out in my head. Oh, and at that time, I listened a lot to a cd of the sound of waves. Waves coming in, waves going out. Nice calm waves. Rhythmic in its own way, but definetly not taiko. Not do ko don. Not kara kara ka ka. No hups. I just felt like I had to take the time to just think and figure out all that happened and make sense of everything. After my last set of a thousand cranes, I realized that I was pretty much done with thinking, and needed to start living, so I didn't go out and get more paper like I'd been doing, and have instead decided that I need to do more. I need to go back to taiko.

Right now I don't want to get too specific. There are things I want to do. I'm trying to set up a few things, or maybe it would be more accurate to say that they're being set up for me. Have to give thanks to someone who keeps lighting little lanterns in this dark forest I seem to be wandering in. It's like I get so far, have something to look forward to, and then there's this other lantern that lights up further away, so it's like I'm starting to see a path. Can't say that the path is solid yet, can't say it's been set out any further than the furthest lantern I can see out there in the distance. It's like a Miyazaki movie. Maybe like Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away. The characters are lost, but not really, because they're searching for something, even though they're not quite sure what it is, and it's not all hokey pokey Disney like they're searching for who they are. There is some darkness there. There are uncertainties that never neatly work themselves out. I have to say I am really interested. But it's scary too, because I'm kind of alone, not that that is particularly scary, but I'm doing things I love to do in new ways in new situations I've not been before, and that's what's a little scary. But really, it beats folding cranes. Not that folding cranes is bad--I actually miss them a little, but I'm getting off my butt and out there and beginning to pursue things. I'm starting to live again.

Actually, honestly, I'm starting to get really excited. I'm starting to get really happy, and I haven't been really happy in a long time, and that ought to ward away the darkness a bit, until I can see the light of the next lantern.

Hooray for Firefighters!

I went down to LA this past weekend to attend my brother's graduation from the firefighter academy. My brother was always kind of the bad-boy of the family, but look at him in the front standing at attention! What my parents would have given to get him to stand like that for just 5 minutes!

My dad pinning the official firefighter's badge:

Posing with the new firefighter:

Horrible car accident with conflagaration. Good thing all these firefighters were there to put it out:

All geared up:

This is a lazy post today. I'm going camping, and hopefully I'll have more interesting things to blog about after that.

13,413 Baby!

That's right! I came in 13,413th place! Not bad considering there were something like 63,000 people and also because it took us 16 minutes to even cross the starting line. My official time was 1:58:51, but by my watch, it actually took 1:42.

Boy oh boy, what can I say? Where do I start? Well firstly, this is a really fun race, and if you're in the Bay Area the third Sunday in May, sign yourself up for the Bay to Breakers race. 12k sounds like a lot, but it didn't feel like it at all. I ran it with my friend Mary and her little sister.

We got there just before the starting time, and were greeted by a huge crowd in different stages of dress (and undress--I saw way too many bare butts by the end of the day, but none of them particularly picture-worthy):

There was some strange tradition of people throwing tortillas. I tried to get a pic of the hundreds of flying tortillas, but couldn't quite catch them while any of them were airborne.

It got pretty nasty closer to the starting line because the whole pavement was covered in trampled tortilla paste. It had been raining the night before and that morning, so it was gross and slippery.

With so many people starting the race at the same time, it took us a while to move forward past the starting line, and I was beginning to wonder if we would even know where the starting line would be once we passed it, but alas, the start:


It was really crowded, and the jog was a nice slow and steady pace. It was actually the perfect pace--it let you have enough breath to talk and point at the naked people and laugh at people's costumes and just take it all in. I was soo prepared for this. I mean, I could have run faster, but was totally enjoying it all.

And the Hayes Street hill. Did you know I was stressing a little over this? When I saw it on tv in years past, the hill looked so steep and daunting, but you know what they say, the camera adds 15 degrees to the steepness of a hill, so it actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and I had been training on steeper grades than that. A lot of people were walking, so we had to come to a walk too, but that was fine. A perfect photo opp:


Come on, look at those smiles! Was I really stressing over this race? I mean, I think it was great that I put so much training into this, but I'm even more glad that this was a fun event and not some grueling and hellish test of my will. What also made it easy was Mary's cool, laid-back, and downright optimistic attitude. For her, the race had only one hill at the beginning and the rest was all downhill from there. It's really good to bring along an optimist for these kinds of things. The mile markers flew by, we rose from out of the busy commercial districts into the residential neighborhoods and into the cool, green embrace of Golden Gate Park and finally into the wide open arms of the Pacific Ocean:


I'm so proud--check out those breakers behind me! I did it!