I was excited to use my new ear plugs and consequently NOT lose all of my hearing... but it just so happens, that when you put ear plugs in, you lose all of your hearing.
I took them out half way through the first song... but I really should have just played louder to hear myself.
My rock and roll life style continues, with only a little bit of identity crisis.
On Tuesday, Rocksteady had a band meeting, where they talked about their feelings, and plans for the future. From what I was able to pick up on yesterday, their plans for the future are pretty big, as they become more and more a significant act in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Ska scene. There will be travel. There will be beer festivals. ... and it seems like I will be a part of it.
It's still hard to tell.
There will be a follow up blog one of these days where I discuss the feminist implications of playing in a punk band.
I'll get good, and I'll learn how to tear up solos, and they will have no reason not to need me.
I'm hanging out with Axel and Petie again. House sitting over Christmas is easy, because I show up here, and never leave. This time I have school, and social obligations, so I've been run, run, running.
Yesterday for example, I slept through my first class (didn't do the reading :( ), ate lunch, and biked the 5 miles to Uptown. The dogs did their thing, and then I rode the 5 miles back. THEN, at 5pm, I rode to Lake Street for practice, practiced, and then rode from there back here. I haven't ridden my bike in weeks, and I am surprised I am not more sore than I am.
Because this weekend will contain so much physical activity-which is something my life lacks- I'm going to try to use it to kick off a spring health regimen. ... also because there is food here... a whole bowl of fruit, and a fridge full of eggs and cheese... and ice cream. So, besides the ice cream, I can be replenishing my bicycle weary body with good, substantial nutrements.
Then, by spring time for real, when I'll be playing shows in sleeveless shirts, I'll be rocking what Beth called, "Michelle Obama arms." Yes. I must also cover them in tattoos.
I've been thinking tattoos again, with mixed feelings. I never actually have to see my Hare if I don't want to, so I wonder what it would be like to have something on my arm, where I'd see it all the time.
What do you think though? Out line of a wall eye, on my right arm, positioned just so the pale white of forearm's underside makes the pale white of the fish's belly. His face would be right by my wrist, so even in sleeves, an angry wall eye face could peek through.
Then again, last week, without knowing of any tattoo plans, my dad said, "If anyone ever asks if you can draw a wall eye, just say no." Maybe that's a sign.
Another idea is an outline of a trumpet on the back of my left arm. This would be more balanced with the Hare, and could be symbolic of my entering the trumpet world... but I also don't want it to be pretentious. Who am I to call myself a trumpet player?
Anyway, this blog got long. I think lots of it is me not wanting to enter the cold, outside world. I need to be at school by nine for improv, which I didn't practice for. PRIORITIES!