Composing, Whooping and Wiggling

Been so busy lately. Have a lot of work I need to do for the Big Show. One of the main things I need to do is compose and polish solos. I have to make a solo using those toys above. I'm not committed to the accordion though. It came with instructions on how to play 2 or 3 songs but I don't know if I can pull off a convincing My Darlin' Clementine by July 17th. Maybe I'll try something more conservative with the monkey chappa player and the frog thingies. 

But writing solos is so hard. That's one of those things that have never come easy for me. I sit down and get up and sit down again and I get one line out at a time--and very laboriously so. I suppose it will get easier someday. 

A friend of mine gave me a great gift a week ago. They're called Muse Cubes, and when you find yourself with writer's block, you pull out these babies and give them a roll. One cube has something you do with your body, and the other one has something you do with your voice. The instructions said that we're more creative when we're not standing still. And they've worked! I've howled and bended, sang and wiggled. It's helped! It lets me get out of my head for a minute and then return to work again with a fresh mind. They're one of the most thoughtful gifts I've gotten in a long time.

It's really get down and crunch time. Two rehearsals this week, plus taiko class and then a wild and wacky parade on the 4th. Craziness!

Break a Bachi

The picture about says it all. Broke my first bachi ever, and of course it was during a performance. I recovered quite nicely, but was aghast a minute later when I see this little girl in the front row playing with one of the dangerously sharp splinters. After the song I ran to pick up my poor little bachi and I exclaimed Abunai! to the girl, and even though she probably didn't understand me, she probably recognized the tone.

Crissy says that in Japan they throw all the broken bachi into a bonfire at the end of the year. Maybe we'll have to get one of those going soon.

Past Exhaustion

Woke up today at 5:30 am. When my clock radio went off, my eyes popped open and I jumped out of bed. I'd be a great firefighter. I woke up this early so that I could get ready to run my Stadium to Stadium 10k race. The race took us from the Giant's stadium to Candlestick park. It was a nice race, flat and fast for the most part. I wasn't in the mood to be fast this morning. I wasn't in the mood to run 6 miles at all. But I put this race on my calendar a while back, and since I paid for the darn race, I had to run it. It wasn't bad. I started out sluggish, and by the time my body reluctantly agreed to be running at such an early god-awful time on a Saturday morning, the 49'ers stadium was within sight. The only catch was that while, yes, the stadium was right there, they made us run around a gigantic parking lot. When I say gigantic, I mean gigantic in the biblical sense. When I've run my limit, my body starts getting loopy, and I feel like I'm going to pass out unless I lift my head and look towards the horizon. Only problem with this is that the horizon is filled with teeny-tiny runners very far away--a distance that I still have to run. But I hunkered down and finished the race without walking. They had a great after-party--free pasta and sports drinks and other goodies. I also signed up to be a marrow donor--one of those bucket-list to-do items.

Then it was off to a 5 hour rehearsal. Learning completely new stuff--less than a month out from the big show. I'm feeling the stress, believe me. And I am so utterly exhausted today. It's a good exhaustion, but enough to make me wipe my brow and hunker down and work and push harder than I thought. It's like running in a way. You think you can only go so far, but you lift your head, and accept the fact that the finish line is still a ways off, and just keep moving your feet. You see the great coliseum, you hear the immensity of all those gathered there. You think maybe you're going to pass out, you think your feet won't carry you. But they do. And you get there, even if you think you couldn't. Even if you think the chasm you must pass is biblical. This is going to be a great show. New pieces. Fabulous talent.  But this 5-hour rehearsal really kicked my butt. When I got home I fell (accidentally?) asleep for 15 minutes, only to jump up out of bed to go to the store to get dinner, and eh, while I was up and at it, I cleaned the house. Picked up my pile of dirty clothes, vacuumed the floors, cleaned the bathroom. I figured if I was so tired, then being even more tired wasn't going to hurt. 

I have so much I need to work on! How am I going to do it? 

Lift my head. Raise my eyes toward the coliseum.

Stillness

My body was tired today. I've been busy every night this week, and my mind is sharp and turning and filled with great big plans, but I have neglected listening to my body, this vessel that holds it all. I woke up exhausted this morning, but brushed that aside with cups of coffee. I put in a full day at work, and afterward went on my run. I contemplated skipping the run, but in my mind were all my plans and schedules, and I just had to get this run in. But the whole time my body protested. Protest is not unusual, and I can usually shake it off, but after a while, when my legs wouldn't deliver their usual kick, and my lungs wouldn't pull in enough air, and there was no bounce to my step, and running up a hill was completely out of the question, I finally realized: Hey, I'm kind of tired. I came home and had a dreamless nap, and woke up, my eyes tired and heavy, and reluctantly I have to admit a sort of defeat. I'm tired!

We push ourselves so hard. I want to run. I have a goal, a race, and I want to be prepared. We can do so much with our minds. We can plan. We can reason. Even when we push ourselves past the limits we have created for ourselves, it is a pleasant surprise when our bodies deliver. But I guess I need to listen to my body when it protests. I don't pamper myself. I need to take the time to sit still and breathe. That is hard to do when my mind is so filled with plans and goals. But this is an important part of being busy too, that stillness. I will have to practice that.

Overload

I am decidedly overloaded. But I'm not complaining. I have a ton of things piling up. The horizon is full. My show is coming up way faster than I want to think about. New songs to learn. Old songs to polish. Equipment to build. I need to make two stands for mokugyo, even though I've never played a mokugyo. I've also got a race 2 weekends from now, and ran my body into the ground the other day preparing for it. A parade. Gigs. Just finished a session of taiko classes, and a new one starts right up again after a week off. I am also a student, and just came back from a class tonight that challenged and thrilled me. I love that class. I love how everything I know gets turned completely upside down and shown to me from a new perspective. I've been given the great gift of time and space to practice my own stuff in--that is a wonderful thing, being able to bang on the drum as loud as I want, work on whatever I want. No noise complaints, no muffles on the drums. I need to really take advantage of that. I've been asked for help to build a drum and I hope I can be useful. I asked a new friend for a little of her time to talk about creativity, and was granted with a wonderful conversation that has me feeling inspired again about writing and reading and thinking about new projects. 

And now it's all about cramming all this in. Inhaling it all. A part of me feels absolutely overwhelmed and paralyzed. Another part is rearing to go. But one thing at a time--that's how I get through this.

Show

I've got a show coming up in six weeks. That seems like a long time, but it really isn't. I have a lot I need to work on. I need to compose a solo and learn a couple of new songs and really get Naori polished. I want to practice and practice, but sometimes I despair because I don't think the group wants to do that. We "rehearse." Which is fine. You get together, go over the parts of the songs, and then go home. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who wants to practice on stuff. I sit at home with my practice pad and metronome and review and drill and do it over and over and over again. I feel we really miss out on important dynamics-stuff when we don't do that sort of practice together. And with only one rehearsal a week how much can we really cover? It makes me feel lonely. I go in early before my classes on Tuesdays to drill and practice by myself. And then I go and practice for hours by myself in the chasm. Sigh.

Not that all that practice and alone-time is a bad thing. I've come to accept this thing about myself: I'm a really slow learner. I'm not calling it a learning disablity, but I have learned to accept the fact that I don't pick things up quickly, and I give myself a break about it. Instead of leaving a class feeling slow and overwhelmed, I just record it and then go over the recording later. I have to learn that way. I guess one of the great lessons I've learned about myself is actually learning about HOW I learn, and then finding a way to work with that. It's made things a whole lot easier, believe me.

But now it is getting toward crunch time. I want to put on a good show. My Dad said he'd come up for this. I'm debuting my new song. Ack, so much to learn and work on! It's that exciting and productive time. Need to ride this wave in.

Wonderful Exhaustion

Had quite the day today. I woke up at 6am and suited up for my See Jane Run 5K run. It's a little hard putting on the short-shorts and facing one of those infamous Bay Area foggy mornings, but it was worth it. The race was in Alameda. The See Jane Run people are really wonderful. They've created this wonderful race geared towards every sort of woman. The whole vibe of the run was about creating this positive space for women to get out and challenge themselves, no matter age or ability, all while having fun. Plus the event was a benefit for Girls Inc, which is a great organization.

After cheering off the half-marathoners, those of us running the 5K warmed up together, gave ourselves a great cheer, and we were off. I put myself about 1/4 of the way into the pack. Not in front, but not in back. Now, I tell myself over and over again that I'm not a competitive runner, and I'm not doing this to compete against others. But there is a side of me that is a competitor, and I think of running as a sport whose only real competition is with yourself. Yes, there are other runners who run the race with you, or maybe even against you, but I really believe that all those other runners are just variations of your own self. 

I started the race out kind of fast--maybe a little faster than I would have wanted. But I had to break free of the pack and find a place where I could run at my own speed. I ran clear of the slower paced people, and then it was a matter of picking off people, or being picked off. I actually didn't get picked off too much, but I was impressed when a lady pushing a stroller picked me off. She actually pushed and excuse-me-ed her way through, and I paced her for a bit before picking her off again. Then it was me and another girl. I ran right on her shoulder the last half of the race. There was a part of me that couldn't muster the will to pass her. I just didn't have the inner strength. But then the finish line came into view. It was still a long ways off, and having it in view can be more painful than not knowing where it is at all. She started to tire, and I managed to pass her for a minute, but then she kicked and flew past me, and there was that little competitor in me who reared up and yelled, oh, HELL no!!, and I put my kick in. I ran up and caught her, and we were side by side, but then she didn't have the gas, and I yelled, come on! come on! And she came back, and we were both flying, and my legs were a little numb from the cold, and in the strangest moment of self-doubt I've ever had, I had the oddest sensation that I wasn't wearing any shorts, and I had to look down to confirm that they were there, and, assured that my shorts hadn't dropped down and mysteriously shimmied off my ankles, I continued to kick, and I beat her, or maybe she didn't have it in her, and that made me a little sad, since she carried me the whole way. I finished in 25:24, which is officially my best time for a 5K since high school.

As if that weren't enough for one day, the next item on my agenda was a gig with Maze at the shopping center next to RCW.  It was one of those throw-away gigs--you go into it knowing no one will show up, except maybe some of your friends, and any random people who happen to be there. So it was fun and easy. We debuted Naori, which went semi-ok, but not perfect. I also debuted my She Goes solo, which I worked on all week. I played it semi-ok too, but it was enough to make me feel confident and happy.

Then there was a couple hours of rest, and then a well-deserved sushi dinner. I ate 6 plates of sushi-boat goodness, which is a record for me. I have a bottomless stomach.

And then we went to check out Slam Bam Story Jam, for an evening of storytelling. Coke, a student in my class, was in the show, as well as Mark and Brenda from Ghosts and Girls days. Coke was really amazing. It's so wonderful to see people you know in the daily context of their lives transform into new beings when they perform. It was a special thing to see that tonight. 

And phew, am I tired! I did more today than I usually do in a month. It's hard to get me out of the house sometimes, but today all those things were totally worth it.

See Kathryn Run!

I'm participating in See Jane Run's 5K race this weekend. It would be more impressive if I were participating in their half-marathon--but maybe next year. Anyhow. Today I picked up my bib, t-shirt, and timing chip. I still have my timing chip on my shoe from Bay to Breakers. I'm lucky number 6092, baby!

Not quite sure how I'm going to do in this one. I gave myself a week off after Bay to Breakers, and I only was able to get one run in this week. But hey--I'm signed up and I am going to run! That beats being sedentary. If I weren't signed up for this race you can bet I'd be fast asleep on my Saturday morning.

Apparently there is going to be chocolate and champagne at the finish line! Too bad I have a gig right after. Maybe I can have one celebratory glass--you know--to toast with.

Bay to Breakers, 2009

Bay to Breakers this year was awesome. I trained hard for this race. I think I trained smart this year too. On Monday I ran 5 miles and then did absolutely nothing else for the rest of the week except eat, rest, and eat some more. I wanted to give my body every advantage and opportunity to recover and repair and be fully ready and energized to run on Sunday.

I was actually surprised at how well I ran, especially since the forecast was for a scorching 90 degrees. I ran really strong and I didn't ever feel particularly tired, and I got water at every station. At one point I grabbed two waters, and in a moment of extreme decadence, I poured one of the waters down my back and drank the other one. On the way up the Hayes Street hill, I found a group of high school cross country runners (I could just TELL they were CC girls--there's something about the understated camaraderie and silent but powerful drive to keep moving) and I hopped on with them. They took me all the way up the hill and beyond. I was going to go with them all the way but I got distracted by a samba group and when I looked back my girls were lost in the crowd. But I pushed on, my legs full of juice and it wasn't until a point in mile 5 where I started to wonder how much longer, but then the course started heading on a gentle downslope, which lifted my spirits. The last leg is through Golden Gate park, and in years past it seemed like it took forever to get through the park, but this year, it just flew by. Before I knew it we were heading toward the final turn before you come up on the Pacific Ocean. I could see the finish line, and my legs were still strong under me, and this guy right in front of me starting kicking, and I decided to go right along with him, and it was like flying, and I ran as hard as I could, my body pushing, arms pumping, lungs filling, your feet only touching the ground for the tiniest of moments, the world streaming by, and before I knew it, it was over, and it felt so good. I ran it it 1:11:24, by my watch. My chip says 1:17, but I had to take a shishi break after the first mile. It's a PR just the same.

This one was for me. I did it. All me. All by myself. Flying.

5K in 20 Minutes!

What? Really? I ran this morning's 5K in 20 minutes?

That's what I was thinking as I hit stop on my watch this morning. I ran See Jane Run's practice 5K. There was a great turn out. Most of the people were there to practice their half marathon, but they also had the 5K course. It's nice and flat, and borders the ocean, which is another great plus. The only thing was the practice starting line must have been 400 meters from the real start, so basically we cut anywhere from 1/2 to 3/4 miles off the real distance, which for a 5K, is quite a bit. So much for trying to time this thing. I'm not complaining though. It was a nice thing they were doing for the half-marathoners. 

I also realized that my new running shoes suck. That's what I get for buying shoes off the internet. I am going to See Jane Run today to get better ones. There's no way I'd make it through Bay to Breakers on these ones. See? It was worth it to wake up early and run this thing.

I'm Gonna Run Bay to Breakers

I've ran close to 90 miles in the last few months. I feel ready for Bay to Breakers. A second ago I wrote that I didn't feel ready, but once I read those words, I had to delete them all. Yes, I feel ready. No, I haven't qualified to get into the elite starting pack, but that's not my goal. My goal is not to compete at all. This is coming from a competitive cross-country runner. Yeah, I used to kick butt in the sport, but now that I am older, or maybe just more tired, I am really just content to finish. Not that I have any intention of walking the race--NO, I am going to run the darn thing. Well, run it as much as I can amongst 60,000 other people (sometimes you have to walk, unwillingly).  This race is for me. I'm going to push. I'm going to elbow my way through the throng of drunk people, and weave my way around the floats, and dodge--at all costs--the naked people. Pacific Ocean, here I come!

I also signed up for a See Jane Run 5K race that happens a couple weeks after Bay to Breakers. The Jane people are holding a practice run this Saturday. They're setting up a 5K course in Alameda. I've signed up for this practice run, and boy am I ready. I'm not there to compete, but there is a part of me that still wants to see where I stand amongst my peers. Plus there are mile markers and I've always wanted to see my splits.

I'm liking this running thing. When I run there is nothing else but breath and body. The more you run this time, the farther you can go next time. The more I run, the further my thoughts are left behind, the further every day life, and the future and past, and everything that ails me gets left behind. There is just you and your body. And after a run nothing is as good as feeling the sweat drip off your head and the clarity of your mind and the dull ache in your muscles that let you know that you are alive.

Yeah, bring it on.

This running thing is good. 

Paradiddles

Ok, so I started out on paradiddles FIVE years ago--took on their challenge, their intricacies, their variations, their potential, but tonight, all that just flew out the window and it was like I was learning those diddles all over again. I spent serious time in the chasm with my sticks, a practice pad and a metronome. I have logged countless hours on my desk at work, wearing my fingers to the bone, playing those diddles. I worked on paradiddles the other night with my taiko class. I wrote a whole FREAKIN' song based on paradiddles. And tonight? When I am faced with paradiddles? It's like it was the first time.

Well, ok, it wasn't quite like the first time. But it was like I was facing the one thing that I had thought I had already conquered, only to be shocked that when confronted by it in a new context, all that training had gone out the window. Eye-opening, it was. Just makes me realize that you can't ever rest on your laurels.

Back to the chasm for me. Just got a whole new sheet of diddle exercises I haven't seen before. This should be good.

Productive Day!

Started the day out by doing the final stretch on the drum. After soaking the head overnight I brought it in and we started cranking. I asked Janet to come help me and my student since I had a feeling she would keep on cranking after the point where I thought we should fold. We did the whole getting on top of the drum thing:

We got some really great tension on that drum. We used a different hide than I've used in the past. I think the hide was thinner. Janet said maybe it was a fatter cow. A happier cow, I replied. It was a good stretch. 

We got some major tension on that baby. Janet kept saying one more crank. And we would crank. And in my head I was thinking, ok that's good, but then Janet would say, one more crank, and we'd crank. Gotta keep those risk-takers around! I think it's gonna sound good. The tacks came out nice and straight. We did a good job. Hurrah to my student because this was her first time heading a drum!

After that was rehearsal where we worked on finishing my song. I wrote a quick and dirty ending this past week, and have been studying some solo techniques. I am happy that I don't seem to have a problem soloing in six. It feels really natural. Maze really rocks. This is not an easy song. It's in six, and the patterns are kind of strange and Steve Reich-ish. They have taken it in stride and are really grooving along. This is not the sort of song that I envisioned my first song to be. I think it's really weird, but a little funky and groovy. I am happy.

Creating the End

Wow that sounds dramatic. 

No really, I am making an ending to my song. That's one of the last things that have been nagging me (and Janet too--to finish the song! Ha ha). Today has been all about listening. Listening to my teachers. Listening to songs. Listening to myself. I composed an ending that I can live with, but there is just one more element--my solo section--that I need to face up to. I hate writing solos. Or maybe that's being dramatic too. Let's just say that the process of writing my solos is treacherous. I just make it all too hard for myself. I try to be too fancy and too complicated. I always think great solos are really mysterious and difficult, but when you get right down and listen to people's solos, they're really just simple things. There must be something in their presentation that evokes all that mystery. I have a solid base to work with. I've been working with a wonderful teacher who teaches really great things, but also a lot of her lessons are by example.

When I first learned taiko, my teacher told us to hold back on asking questions during class. She asked us to wait until the end if we had a question, and that we ought to just watch and pay attention and try to figure out the answers for ourselves. I don't insist upon this with my students, but there are moments when I wish I could divide myself; there is one part of me that wants to share and to make everything as accessible as possible, and another side of me that wants them to go through the struggle because I believe that it is in the struggle that our greatest lessons are learned. There is something about being handed an answer that is not quite as gratifying as figuring it out for yourself.

No one is going to hand me this solo. My teacher has taught me phrases, has taught me how to count and divide time, and how to put it all together so the phrases fit in time. There have been innumerable lessons in a single class. It is my job as a student to take those lessons and put them together in my mind so that in the end what I have is not just a line of music to mimic, but a real understanding of the hows and whys of that music. When you understand the how and the why, you can take it and change it and make it your own.

I guess that's what solos are. They express the culmination of all your lessons and are moments that you take all that you have learned and speak it in your own way. 

Now I just need to figure out what I am going to say.

Practice Makes Perfect

It really really does! I wish I would practice more. I wish I had more time to practice. I wish we practiced more, and I wish that everyone would see how important, and how just a little practice every day could do a person wonders. I tell my students just to practice 10 minutes a day. Some of them do, and when they do, it totally shows. Today I had them do some 8 and 8's. Those are simple, simple exercises. I was happy that they didn't seem bored. They are deceptively easy. But really, when it comes down to it, the most important sort of practice for me is just working on my chops. I can play all sorts of patterns, but if I were to play paradiddles with a really experienced player, it would be immediately apparent that my basics are in need of a lot of attention. 

Today I snuck in and diddled and rolled and 8 & 8'ed before my classes. I need a lot of work. But on the other hand, it feels really good to just get in there and work on those basics. 

Practice, yo. 

Are We Rolling?

 . . . and we're back.

Yes, I'm back. 

First off, I got roped in to re-heading a drum, (get it? Roped in? get it?). No really. One of my students asked me to show her how to re-head a drum, and of course I am honored and pleased to show someone, especially someone with her enthusiasm, how to re-head. Plus I had told Janet earlier I would re-head one of her drums, so I am killing two birds with one stone. It also inspired me to finally consolidate my notes and thoughts into a clear, concise manual of drum re-heading. Last weekend I put together my notes and photographs and the best of what I can remember into a nice moleskine journal that I loaned my student. These notes are way more clearer than the notes I got, but I cherish the notes I got so much that I never want to let them go, though I guess one of these days I need to return them. I sent my student on a scavenger hunt of sorts, asking her to get the things that we need but that I didn't feel like spending the time searching for. I'm glad she's totally into it. She actually found 100 feet of manila. So this weekend we are going to do the first stretch.  I am also happy that I get to pass on what was given to me. When Janet gave me the opportunity to head my own drum I felt like someone was giving me this huge, wonderful gift that I could never repay. But sharing the knowledge I have accumulated along the way with my student makes me feel like I am one step closer to repaying back a debt I can never really repay. 

Last Friday Janet and I pulled tacks from one of her drums. It was very cathartic, pulling tacks with her. I think it was a moment that needed to happen for me. Just the two of us quietly working together on something we both enjoy. It just kind of happened. I was like, hey, I'm here, might as well start on this now. And she was like, ok, well I'm here too, let's figure out how to get these tacks out. The last month or two have been something of an internal struggle for me, and I don't want to go into all of that, but I needed that month to mentally check out and not be around much. I was sad and disappointed about things, and I realized that I just want to play taiko and be happy about it, and I had to figure out a way to be happy with it, and I figured it out, after quite a lot of soul searching and agonizing and moping. But I'm ok now. 

So cutting and pulling rawhide this weekend.  Sharing. Contributing. Passing stuff on. This is a good, positive thing--just the direction I need to be heading in, or re-heading in. (Get it? Re-heading? Get it?)

We're also building toward a new, big show in July. Oh boy, this will be the best one yet. We're going to be doing it solo, just Maze, with original new works. And one of those new works, I am proud to say, will be composed by me. I am so close. I just need to figure out an ending to tie all the loose ends together. Oh, and compose a solo, but, eh, you know me--I can figure that out. Janet was trying to find a way to substitute people in and out of the different pieces, like they do in basketball, but looks like I am in a lot of them. I don't mind, but had to plead my case to be taken out of Mokuyobi. I don't mind playing Mokuyobi, but I've struggled with my solo for the past 5 years, and if I don't have to think about that battle, then this makes my life easier. We'll see.

What else? Had Michaelle's class tonight. It wasn't easy. But in the middle of struggling through one of the patterns she was showing us (I was the only one who totally didn't get it!) I was like, hey, I like this struggle. I am so glad someone is pushing me and giving me things that are so difficult. I feel like as a teacher I am constantly trying to find ways to make sure that people who find things easy, have something that challenge them, and those who feel challenged get the encouragement and positive feedback they need to continue. It's all a balance. Michaelle's class is really great for me because I just get to kick back and let someone else figure it all out, while I have fun and learn things.  I totally appreciate all the effort she puts in to make sure that I, as a student, get the most out of her class. And everyone else too. She is a good teacher.

Oh, and Bay to Breakers, yo! I've been training for that. I ran 5 miles yesterday! I had taken a week off because of scheduling conflicts and I am proud that I could just jump right in with a long run without much protest from my body. My mind, on the other hand, tried to come up with all sorts of excuses, but in the end my body won out. I know that if I can just get my running clothes on and run my butt to the end of the block and back again, then I'm good. And once I can run past the 30 minute mark, all the protesting my body does goes away, and either things get numb, or my body and I just get used to the idea that we're gonna sweat and keep pushing until we're done. I need to get to the 70 minute mark before I'm totally happy. I got to 50 yesterday. I have until mid-May to get there. And even if I don't, I know that I will finish that race.

So things are going better for me. Busy, busy though. 

March was for moping. April is for getting my head back on and my heart in the right place. I've been sad, but need to find a way to be happy, or I'll never be happy with myself.

Sigh. It's not as dramatic as it sounds. 

OMG, WTF

Strange thing happened tonight--I totally rocked when it was my turn to solo. Usually when I solo I get all tense and uptight and I can barely improvise, and if I do improvise, it's to save my life. But tonight in my percussion class, it was my turn to take a solo section and my hands were totally rocking, and my brain and emotions were like, OMG, WTF are you doing? And my hands were just playing these fun and totally groovy rhythms. It was tiiiight. And honestly, I can't say where it came from. I've never soloed in that groove, and it was on the conga, which I can barely play, but for some reason, I was right there.  I'm a bit surprised with myself. Actually I'm really surprised. I have to credit the teaching and structure, because Michaelle created this definite space in which to solo in, and a space for a tag that you came back to after so many bars. Not that I was counting or anything. It was more of a feel. It was really weird. I felt like I could have kept going and have fun with it.  

This is peculiar and strange. But I like it.

I Did It!

I jumped the fence, YO! Yeah, that's right! I finally got my double stroke roll to actually BE a roll. It's not entirely pretty yet, but it's definitely something new and exciting. I've been in the chasm for weeks working on this. And I did it! Yipee!!!  

Jumping the Fence

Tonight was my percussion class--hooray!!!!!! It was the absolute highlight of my week, believe me. Before we were about to start warmups, Michaelle asked what anyone wanted to work on, and I blurted out doubles!, since I've been working real hard on them on my own. I'm not usually a blurter-outer, but doubles have been a new and interesting challenge to me. In taiko, you don't really have doubles because wine-barrel taiko drums don't lend themselves to doubles. The skins are just too loose and boomy to allow your 1" stick to bounce much. You can get doubles on the shime drums though. They're tighter and more responsive. I see myself as more of a small drum player. I like the sound and dynamics of small drums, and so I've been working a lot on stick technique and, among other things, double-playing. One of the things that Michaelle does a lot when she's thinking is to play a sharp, fast double stroke roll. It is totally awesome. She'll be like, what should we play next, hmm??, and as she's thinking she'll do a roll roll roll roll! Double stroke roll. I'm always amazed.

So I've been working on my double stroke roll a lot. It's simple. You hit with the stick and there is a strike and right after that, a bounce. That's a double stroke. A lot of it is learning how to hold the stick, and then there is the bounce, and there is the control part of the bounce. It's one thing to do it with the right hand, but doing it with the left is another. Getting the left and right side to work in unison is a lifetime challenge in itself. It's all about control, and you don't get that without sitting there with your sticks and a practice pad for hours. I've been putting in those hours, but I just can't get to the point where my rolls go from kinda fast, to Michaelle-fast. I want to get there. She's got these laser-pointer eyes where you can tell that she's looking at your hands and your fingers and wrists and evaluating your sticking--all in just a moment. She had me do the double stroke roll as fast as I could and she said, uh-huh yeah, your ALMOST there, you just need to jump over the fence. I know those fences. I know that I have worked up to the point where if I just figure out that one thing, that one little thing--whatever it is--a lifting of the wrist, the caress of a finger, the push of a pinky--if I can just figure out what that tiny subtle thing is, then I'll get over that fence. I think that a big part of learning percussion goes beyond learning time, and learning patterns, but it's the tiny subtle things that no one can teach. You just need to sit there and practice over and over again until you get it. You can't really teach to someone: after you hit, clench your fingers for a millisecond and then release, and then flick your wrist and put the tension back in your fingers. It's hard. You just have to sit there until you get it.

And I am almost there. When she says you just need to get over the fence I believe it because I have tried to get over that fence many times. I am so close. Just a little bit more.