Hobbes on April 29

Today Apple announced the release of OSX Tiger, which will be available to the public on April 29.

There are dozens of new exciting technologies that have been developed, and will be included in this major upgrade to the Mac operating system. This release of OSX has been coded for optimum performance on a 64-bit G5 processor, so my computer will fly. Some of the more exciting features is Dashboard, which is a handy way to use widgets -- small programs designed to make the gathering of desireble information very quick and easy. Some of the widgets developed for Tiger include a Calculator, Sticky Notes, a Dictionary, real-time stock quotes, among many others.

Also noteworthy of mention is the integration of Spotlight, a new searching technology that will make finding files on your computer incredibly fast. Spotlight is going to revolutionize the way we store and retrieve information on our computers. There will be no more waiting for the computer to scan the hard drive.

Major upgrades to standard Mac applications such as Mail, Safari and Quicktime are also bundled in Tiger. The inclusion of RSS technology in Safari will mean that I can dump Firefox and exclusively use one browser. Nothing against Firefox, I think it is currently the best browser out there... For PC's. Safari is a faster browser for Mac though.

Us Mac users can enjoy another major upgrade to our operating system, which includes many new technologies that may revolutionize the way we use our computers. Conversely, the PC world continues to wait for the release of Longhorn, which appears like it won't make its debut until 2006 at the very earliest.

Booked Solid

The next two weeks of my life are going to busy ones. It is going to be exciting, however at the same time, it's going to be rather stressful, as I have no idea how I am going to get enough sleep.

This week I am going into the recording studio to record an album with one of my associates, SK. I have mentioned him a number of times on this blog, as he has been kind enough to give me a few gigs on the odd occasion. I feel privileged that he asked me to record an album with him. Unfortunately, at this time, I have no idea what we are going to do once I get there. I could end up spending four or more nights in the studio recording drum tracks.

I also have rehearsals with two other bands this week. One of them, is Müle Shöe, whom are writing material for our sophomore album. The other band is the Grease band, from months past, as we have been solicited to do a gig for charity. It sounds like I will have about another dozen songs to learn just for that gig. I am also working with another associate of mine who is putting a recital together for her students. We will be having rehearsals every Saturday afternoon for the next two months to prepare our students for their performances. On top of all this, I have two gigs with SK on the weekends.

After all this, one thing comes to my mind: When the hell am I going to do my tax return?

Extraterrestrial Economics

We are rich beyond our wildest dreams. Yes, far richer than Bill Gates and Warren Buffett combined. Unfortunately, it is rather difficult for us to tap into this wealth.

I am specifically referring to the mineral wealth of the asteroid belt.

Sitting idly between Mars and Jupiter, countless debris orbit our solar system, its resources virtually untapped, and since it appears "nobody else" wants to exploit the resources, us primates have concluded that it must be ours for the plundering. The mineral wealth of the asteroid belt is beyond comprehension; if it were divided up evenly between every man, woman and child on this planet, we would each receive $100 billion!

For the amount of wealth in the asteroid belt, you can imagine that companies (and entrepreneurs) are already developing technology to harvest these minerals. At a total value of some $60 quintillion (more money than the world has ever seen, by many factors), there isn't a thing called "cost-prohibitive".

Unfortunately, you, me, and most of the world will never see this wealth. In a perfect world, we might be lucky to see the wealth of the solar system's resources divided evenly amongst the civilians of the world. But you know as well as I do, that will never happen.

Have you ever considered what would happen if we are all given a healthy sum of money from the government? Every now and then we are lucky to get tax kickbacks from the government -- sometimes we get tax rebates, other times we get rebates from oil and gas revenues, and other times we get a cheque to help cover the cost of high heating costs in winter. The money often doesn't go very far, as it's usually between 50 and 100 dollars. Comparatively, the mineral wealth of the asteroid belt is astronomical to these petty rebates.

As an example, let's not talk money, but consider commodities for a moment. Pick any collector's item -- baseball cards for example. A Mickey Mantle baseball card is worth a considerable amount of money (dependent on age, and condition). It is also valuable, as there are few of these cards in circulation. Now, let's say that everyone in the world gets a valuable Mickey Mantle card as a gratuity. What happens? There are now 6 billion Mickey Mantle cards floating around, all valueless. They are without value, simply because everybody has one.

Now I don't consider myself an economist, but the same thing happens with money. If everyone in Canada were given a million dollars, our currency would be hugely devalued. Inflation would rise through the roof, and I certainly don't like the idea of paying $2000 for a chocolate bar at 7-Eleven. The irony is that an injection of mass cash (or mass commodities) to all the citizens of a study area (country, city, world) does nothing. In fact, it does more harm than good.

With respect to the mineral wealth of the asteroid belt, no company or government would be in favor with evenly distributing the wealth of the asteroid belt. If the wealth were evenly distributed, who would finance the acquisition of raw materials? Nobody would raise their hand, because we citizens of the earth are all greedy and ignorant. Six billion people would cry in one instant "It's not my problem".

Only corporations and select governments (who have the technology) would be those interested in undertaking a mining expedition to the final frontier. And the only reason why they would consider it, would be to acquire wealth beyond anyone's dreams.

It all comes down to the simple mathematical function: Power is directly proportional to Wealth. In the adopted worldly economic system, the more money you have, the more powerful you are. The system is designed to provide an unnatural balance of wealth and power, favoring a select few at the expense of many. To change this would require a revolution of unprecedented proportions, virtually upsetting the entire world. Upsetting those who are in power has proven to be difficult (but not impossible) tasks throughout history.

On July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong and Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin set foot on the Moon. They placed a plaque at their landing site which stated: We came in peace for all mankind. The moon landings were an incredible display of human ingenuity, determination, and economic financing. Sure, it was meant to boast American superiority with respect to economics, and technology, but it was also a kind gesture to the world that space exploration was meant for all peoples of the world, regardless of age, gender, religious affiliation, race, or citizenship. I believe shortly thereafter, a UN treaty was signed stating the Moon, as well as other celestial objects, will never be properties or acquisitions of any one country, but belonging to all peoples of Earth.

Fast-forward to today, and we see a largely different picture. George W. Bush is following Regan's footsteps in the attempt of the weaponization of space. Once the first weapon is deployed into space, a Pandora's Box is opened, thus spelling almost certain doom to all life on this planet.

In addition, there was a loophole in the UN treaty with respect to the Moon. Even though it was decreed that a country claiming property on the Moon was to be illegal, it did allow corporations the liberty to acquire property on the Moon. I know this to be a fact, as my cousin owns one acre of moon property. Obviously, one acre of Moon property is essentially valueless -- unless prospecting or other infrastructure develops on the Moon. It is anyone's guess when that will happen, but I suspect within fifty years, we will see a permanent settlement on the surface of the Moon, and then we will see moon property values begin to increase, as well as the creation of many new problems.

Those problems will have to wait until another post.

"4 Degrees of Kevin Bacon": Red-Hot Jane Deconstructed Alanis

I always find it a rare and special treat when I stumble onto the personal weblog of someone famous. To be more specific, I usually could care a less about what goes on in a movie stars' life; so many of those blogs are moderated by someone else, and it's little more than advertising space.

I'm going to be on this show at such-and-such. I will be appearing for autographs at this location. A picture of my gorgeous ass will be featured on this magazine so the rest of you trailer-trash slobs can stick your fingers down your throats so you can be as skinny as me. I've signed an endorsement for this particular brand of cancer-causing skin cream, but they paid me a lot of money to do so. It's all about, me, me, me, me.

It is rarer to find a personal weblog of a celebrity that isn't all egocentric and shameless self-promotion. The reason why I love reading celebrities' blogs (especially those of fellow musicians), is because I want to know their mind and hearts. I want to know their passions; what makes them tick, and what pisses them off.

Most of all, I want to know what makes them human.

Finding good blogs to read is like trying to find something good to watch on MTV. There are million bad ones, and it's rare when one shows up that's a worthwhile read. It was a rare treat to find goddess Shirley Manson writing about her experiences while recording Beautiful. It must have been such a success that she wrote tour diaries, as well as another studio journal for Bleed Like Me, which will be released worldwide in less that two days! I can't wait!

I feel lucky to have discovered Matt Good's blog, as well as Wil Wheaton's. From these two pages, I have been lucky to discover links to other gifted (and unique) writers, such as Raymi, Tony Pierce, and most recently, Dave Navarro.

[ed. note: Yes, I do realize I have been plugging the above bloggers quite a bit recently.]

For the uninitiated, Dave Navarro is a gifted LA guitarist whose career spans from the 1980's to today. He has been in some very successful bands, which include: Jane's Addiction, the side-project Deconstruction, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. If my memory serves me correct, he also played on Alanis Morrisette's smash album Jagged Little Pill. And yes, I'd love to smash every single Alanis CD I can get my hands on.

Whiny bitch.

With respect to Dave Navarro, I enjoyed his weblog, as he discusses a lot of recent events in his life. He even encourages two-way communication with his fans, as he has agreed to MSN chats, and he answers email via the weblog. Establishing this bond with a celebrity is important to us fans. I am glad he takes time to communicate with us "bottom feeders". So many celebrities either don't bother or don't care that legions of people love them, just because they either make music, are featured on the silver screen, or they write good books.

It wasn't so long ago that the only communication a fan would have with his or her hero was by buying their records, reading their books, or watching their movies. I suppose a fan could have joined a fan-club, but it was usually moderated by the artist's management company, and the most you would likely get would be a newsletter, along with the usual self-promotional crap. I suppose if you wrote your hero enough times, you might a personal response, along with a restraining order.

It is amazing how much the Internet has changed this. It is so much easier to establish contact with your heroes. With enough luck and communication, the potential for a friendship of sorts may (or may not) develop. The blogging community is an amazing thing, as I have already seen respecting bloggers travel across the country to meet one another and hang out. How cool is that?

It'd be even cooler if I ever got to jam with some of my musical heroes. Perhaps one day, my wish may come true.

No Sleep Till Summer

Gigging in Calgary was a blast last week, even though I was running around like a headless chicken. I expected that I was going to get a lot of rest and relaxation, but it turned out that I didn't get much rest.

Much of Thursday was spent shopping with Chris. We hit nearly every music store within the city limits. By the end of the day, my credit card burned to the touch. I swiped that thing so many times, smoke began emanating from my wallet. I ended up buying drumheads, drumsticks (necessities), and a brand new pair of K hi-hats. I saw my dream drumset, and my heart ached, but I knew there was no possible way that I could afford another drumset at this time. The drumset kept whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and then begged me to take it home, but I tried explaining to the drumset that I just didn't have room in my car for the new beauty. I promised the drumset I would return and buy her, but deep down she knew I couldn't hold my promise.

I also saw the Mackie mixers I was describing in an earlier post. I was very tempted to walk out with one, but again the price tag was a little much for me to justify -- and I knew, deep in my heart, that I wanted a pair of K hi-hats most. I also saw an Ayotte-Keplinger snare, that just thirty minutes prior, I told Chris: "If they have an Ayotte-Keplinger snare, I don't care how much it costs, I'm buying one". Once I saw the $1200 price tag, I changed my mind.

I can't remember the last time I spent 3 nights in the bar. In some ways, it was nice to get out of my cocoon. It was also very smoky, and rowdy. My beautiful maple snare drum now smells like an ashtray. The drumset I took up to Calgary almost didn't hold up to the abuse that Müle Shöe deals on a nightly basis. I took my portable PureCussion drumset, but that thing is so flimsy, that you can only hit so hard before you begin damaging the kit. I should have known better, but I have a real hard time fitting my big drumset into my car.

The performances did go well overall. The band is clicking nicely, and they are still kicking my ass to hit harder. We sold a fair number of CD's, t-shirts, and 8X10 posters. We made some good connections which could mean that we will be returning to Calgary sooner than expected. Perhaps we will return during the summer... But I can't say anything about that right now.

I had many late nights, and early mornings. There was also a time change Saturday night, so I lost an hour of sleep. The drive back home was a long one, even though I couldn't wait to get back home to my own bed.

Four days since I returned home, I am still exhausted. I have no idea when things are going to let up, but the next few weeks are going to be packed. I have all kinds of rehearsals (with three different bands), weekend gigs, and even recording sessions in the studio. I may be making some coin here and there, but I know that I won't be getting much sleep.

My Ugly Mug on the Tube

I would like to rewind a few days and talk about my experience on being on television, where a potential viewership of about 1.5 million watched my band perform on The A-Channel's Wired.

Wednesday sure felt incredibly busy. I spent much of the morning packing my stuff and managed to be on the highway by 1:30 in the afternoon. It was around 4:30 before I made it to the outskirts of Calgary -- and it was rush-hour. I found my hotel with little trouble, checked-in, and went through the lengthy process of moving my baggage and equipment into my hotel room. I was not about to leave thousands of dollars worth of equipment in my car. I felt that was just an invitation for a thief to break into my car and steal the tools of my trade.

I ended up eating a hamburger at the Wendy's across the street where people barely spoke English. I ate hastily as I was alone, feeling straying eyes glance at me as I sat alone, staring out the window. Believe it or not, I am really self-conscious about sitting in a restaurant, eating alone. I'd sooner drive my car through a drive-thru and park my car, eating with the doors locked. I feel safer in my car.

I walked back to my hotel room, shaved, showered, and changed my clothes in preparation for my big television debut. Then I mentally prepared myself for a drive that I was dreading -- driving through downtown Calgary.

I get very claustrophobic with high-rise buildings blocking out the sun. Being raised on the prairies where I can see for miles, I feel blind and constrained when I cannot see much further than fifty meters. I can only describe it feeling like a lab rat feels when it is placed in a maze. The roads in downtown Calgary are largely one-way streets, so navigating your way around these high-rises can be troublesome. You often have to doubleback in order to get to your destination.

I managed to find the A-Channel studio, and when I parked my car, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. A few of my bandmates were already there, unloading gear out of their vehicles. I went to buy a parking pass from the electronic vendor, where I was hit up by a junkie, begging for cash. I imagine this is commonplace everywhere else, but in smalltown Alberta, I rarely see events like this. I just wanted to get indoors to safety.

Walking into a television studio is a bit surreal. You begin to see the sets that you normally see every day. They are often a lot smaller than you think they are. The ceilings are strangely absent; instead there countless studio lights pointed in every which direction, many of them covered in colored gels to achieve a certain type of lighting. Electrical cords and cables are everywhere, and you almost feel like a child in a department store, where if you dare touch anything, it will be the end of the world as you know it.

We were escorted through a large room where about a dozen staff were working on computers as well as all sorts of intriguing electronic gizmos, likely preparing for programming that was to occur in the future. Everybody in the room managed to stop their tasks for a few seconds, and say hello to us. It was a kind gesture to us, especially when we didn't even know how welcome we would be.

There was not a lot of time, so once we were in the studio, we hastily began assembling our equipment. There already was a drumset for me to use, so after a careful inspection, I managed to utilize much of the television stations' drumkit. We had our gear assembled in about twenty minutes, we did a quick sound check with one of the stations' technicians, and we were then instructed to wait -- and wait quietly, I might add.

We might have waited only fifteen minutes, but it felt like two hours. The nerves were beginning to affect us all, and Jake, Chris and I did a final last-ditch practice of the songs by humming, air-drumming and plucking at their unplugged guitars. It felt good, but we all knew that we only had one shot at this, and we would have to do our absolute best. Our lead singer Dan, disappeared to a public washroom where he warmed up his vocal chords.

It wasn't long until the host, Jill Bellam, arrived (I think that's what her name was). She was a very kind host, who made us feel a little at ease. She asked us a few questions, and instructed us how the taping would commence, as well as she told us what to expect. Immediately thereafter, we were instructed to plug-in our instruments, take our places, and wait for the dreaded countdown. Once the countdown hits zero, you are on -- and you'd better not take your time.

I saw the cameraman count down from ten until five, and then continue counting down silently with his fingers. Once his hand reached zero, I soiled my shorts and counted the band in the first number.

I don't know where I went for the next four minutes. I was completely focused, listening to the other players. I was praying that everything would go flawlessly, but when you are under such pressure, anything can go wrong. I kept telling myself to not look at the cameras; first of all, because you look like such a dork when you make eyes with the camera, and second, the moment you look into that glass eye -- the one that has the red light glowing, you freeze like a deer in headlights. All I could do to keep myself from vomiting over myself was to go into my own little world, and tell myself that we were not taping.

As soon as the song ended, Jill walked on the stage, thanked us, and commenced the interview. I am quite happy that she did not ask me a question, because I would have looked like such a dork, wiping the drool from my face, and uttering something completely primitive and unintelligible -- kinda like "Buddy-Nugs". Dan and Jake handled the questions, and I think they did a good job. The interview was very short, perhaps under two minutes. What you saw on the show was exactly the way it happened. Nothing was cut, nothing was patched or added.

We were instructed to sit for a few minutes and wait to perform our second number. Once again, the butterflies returned to my stomach, as I would be singing during the second song, and I hadn't learned my harmonies well enough. In addition, the monitors were poor, and the staff didn't have enough time to make things picture-perfect for us.

The countdown commenced, and once again I was counting in the band, praying that I wouldn't embarrass myself, the band, or my family for generations to come, by doing something stupid. Musically, the song went well, but I could hardly hear the other singers, and I did my best to fake my harmonies. I didn't think I did too bad, as they seemed to fit well in the mix.

The song ended without a train-wreck and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief. Jill thanked us for being on the show, as well as we thanked her for having the opportunity to stare at her for about an hour. She left the studio, and the band began packing our gear.

Chris asked me if I would like to join him for a beverage at one of the pubs, were we could drink some of these jitters away. I agreed, and drove across town to a watering-hole where I met a few of his friends. I stayed for a few drinks, but I had to leave, as I could not wait to see myself on a real television station.

Well, I suppose it might have been better if I did not tune-in at all. I sure felt like I looked like a dork. The shots of me looked like I just got back in from smoking a dozen joints. Boy, did I look lit. The music sounded pretty decent for television, but I sure cringed when I heard the vocals. Oh, was it torture. It was off-key, shrill, and sounded worse than a thousand drunken bagpipers on St. Patrick's Day. After our "performance", I turned off the television, and began convincing myself that nobody was going to watch that show anyway.

Boy, was I wrong. The next day, Chris and I went shopping in Calgary. Everywhere we went, we were approached by strangers saying: "Hey! You were on Wired last night!" We were celebrities -- something I did not want to become again. Well, at least we didn't have legions of screaming fans stalking us, but at least we were treated well by those who did recognize us. I suppose it was a nice boost to the ego, and in the end, I am glad to have had the experience.

Next time, I might opt out of singing. Musicians always talk about the "truth on tape". I suppose this day and age, there is truth in ones and zeros. The tape never lies; the tape is merciless. I could never stand the sound of my own voice -- even if I was singing well.

Impressions

Nothing like waking up to a huge pile of excrement in your cereal to brighten your morning.

I woke up this morning to discovering that someone backed their vehicle into my car again. Now I have a huge dent in my bumper, and I will likely have to buy a new bumper.

I just fixed my car -- like a month ago!

I am dreading how much this is going to cost me. I know exactly when this "accident" happened, which was in Calgary when I was staying at my buddies place. I parallel parked my car behind a half-ton truck. When I got up the next day, the truck was gone, but it left a tell-tale square dent in my bumper where the hidden hitch decided to make an impression on my car. Conversely, I am not the least bit impressed on that ingrate of a hit-and-run driver. I am tempted to drive back up to Calgary to take a crowbar to the thick skull of that knuckle-walking inbred, but I doubt he'd even feel the impression I'd make on his capacity-deficient cranium.

If that truck frequents my buddies' neighborhood, I am going to do my best to get the number of that truck. Won't he be surprised when I make a claim on his insurance policy. I'd like to take a big crunch in someone else's morning cereal just for once.

I'm getting sick of picking out turds from my morning breakfast. It just ruins the whole day.

Crack Open The Bubbly!

It has come to my attention that this website has officially topped 1,000 hits in under 1 year! I would like to send a special thank you to all of you who have stopped by, especially those who return on a regular basis to see what's new and exciting in my insignificant life.

Thank you, thank you all.

MC Fro

Corporate Tyranny Sucks

Now I am really pissed off. I have been trying to be a little more proactive in keeping in touch with my friends, and many of them ask me if I have an IM account. My response usually is "Sure, Yahoo! Messenger, ICQ, and AIM."

Their usual response is "Why are you using those? Everybody is on MSN! Get with the times; nobody's used those IM clients in years!"

Well, I've retorted saying, "Well I don't even use ICQ anymore, and I rarely log into Y! Messenger, and the only reason I have an AIM account is that it is compatible with iChat, which has the best interface I have yet seen. Besides, Apple rocks, and M$ sucks! Not to mention, that Apple has seamless integration between all its software, which carries a lot of pull in my book."

Their response usually is: "Well, if you wanna chat, you're gonna have to get an MSN account."

So I have decided to swallow my pride and sign up for an MSN account so I can talk to a few of my friends who live in galaxies far, far away. So I downloaded an MSN client, and went through the process of setting up an account. I was informed that I would be getting a verification email in my inbox shortly.

Guess what? 90 minutes has passed, and I have yet to receive a confirmatory email from MSN. I have checked my account information, which is intact on the M$ servers, but no confirmatory email. I absolutely hate waiting, especially for automatic confirmatory emails.

What a pile of bull. M$ Sucks.

BTW, the tales of my travels abroad will appear once I am done fuming.

Totally Wired

This is quick reminder for everyone that I am going to be on television tonight.

I am going to be on tonight's broadcast of "Wired", at 11:00 PM MST, on the Calgary feed of the A-Channel.

I hope many of you will have the chance to tune into the show.

The rest of the week I'll be performing at Trapper's Pub and Grill in Calgary. If you can make it, I'd love to see you there.

If I can get access to a computer, I may have some spare time to write an entry and update you on my experiences. Otherwise I will write again once I return from my road trip.

Take care, everyone.

One That Got Away

I spend too much time reminiscing about ages past. Today, in a half-awake state, my memories were flooding back to 1998, when my life was rather turbulent. I had reached the ends of my sanity, and my entire life began to unravel before my eyes. My life became dream-like when I was awake, I was drunk most of the time, and I slept 12+ hours per day. I lived my reality in my dreams, as the real world proved too difficult for me to handle any longer. I reached the end of my metaphorical rope, and I decided it was time to get some professional help. Within a few days, I was given a prescription of antidepressants, and instructed to make some changes in my lifestyle.

There was no more skipping classes. From that day forward, I was supposed to get up early every day and attend class. There was no more alcohol. I was instructed that drinking on antidepressants was not advisable, and I would have to get on the wagon. I began going to the gym to weight-train and do cardiovascular activity a few days a week. I even changed my image: I cut my long hair (that I had been growing for six years), and even changed my clothes.

I wanted to cast away everything I was; all the things that led me to become what I had, and start with a clean slate. The first few days were almost unbearable. I would compare it to being in detox. The antidepressant drugs were the worst trip I ever had. The withdrawals from alcohol made it worse, I was clammy, in cold sweats, I shook and trembled, I couldn't sleep, I didn't feel like eating, and I cursed everything under the sun, asking what I did to deserve this trip. I was ready to tell off the doctor, flush the pills down the toilet, and order two jugs of beer and a pack of cigarettes. I was miserable, and a sobbing mess. It took two days for me to fully detox.

Then something happened. I could attest to a miracle, but I really know that two things happened. The first was that the levels of antidepressants in my body had elevated to a level where it began to affect my mind and behavior. This happened precisely the same day the second miraculous thing happened: I saw the Matthew Good Band in concert. He had recently released his second album, Underdogs, and the hit song Everything is Automatic was on heavy airplay. The concert was mind-boggling, and the next day I rushed to the music store to buy a copy of Underdogs. Amidst my new-found mental clarity, Matt Good's music spoke to me in a way that music hadn't spoken to me since I discovered Nine Inch Nails years prior. I was in a state of euphoria, singing MGB's Indestructible for days on end, and I began to believe I really was immortal. Matt Good's music was my savior in one of the darkest periods of my life.

And then, being completely reborn, my eyes began to open again. I could focus, and I noticed things around me that either I had taken for granted, or I had no prior interest in before. I was alert, I felt good, and began crawling out of the bottomless pit of my old depressive self. I began to enjoy University again, I liked my professors, I enjoyed learning, I began writing a book, and I went to class.

That's when I met her. Psychology 2700 - Animal Behavior. My professor was the spitting image of David Suzuki with the manic sense of humor of Robin Williams. His lectures were hysterical, and we spent more time falling off our chairs from laughing so hard, that we would forget to take notes. Every class was a riot, and you never dared miss a class because it was so good for the soul to just be there. But she was the extra incentive that forced me to go to that class every day.

I never knew her name. She would sit in the row in front of me, and she would sit one or two chairs to the left or right of me so we could stare at each other. The first time she turned back to look at me with those eyes, she gave me a big smile, and my heart just melted. I was indestructible, I was psychic, I was high on drugs, and I knew she wanted me.

She was this tiny, thin girl who couldn't have been a day over 19. She had bone-straight brown hair that was a little longer than shoulder length. She wore these glasses that made her look both sexy and smart. She seemed so innocent; so pure, and after I had just been reborn, I wanted something pure and sacred.

She had the habit of wearing white blouses with plaid skirts and black stockings to class. She had the Catholic school-girl look perfected, which made me (and I'm sure dozens of other males smitten with testosterone) drool at her feet. It sure made her look innocent, but I knew underneath that innocent facade was a repressed sexual being who wanted to ride. I knew she wanted me, I was irresistible, and psychic, and when she looked at me with those eyes of hers, I stared right into her soul, and I saw what she had planned. I knew that it would just be a matter of time that we would introduce ourselves, and then she would push me into a dark, unoccupied custodial closet, and she would throw me to the floor and jump on top, tearing away at my clothes.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not gather the guts to approach her. I resorted my time between classes to wandering the halls, hoping that I would run into her; maybe I would find her alone and I could approach her and break the ice. I managed to see her a few times, but she was never alone. I had only wished that she might go to my stomping grounds, and then I would not have a reason to not approach her.

Then one night, nearing the end of the semester, a few friends of mine and I discovered that she was on my turf - The Zoo (the campus bar). The angel I had been staring at all semester was at my hangout, and there was only her best friend with her. My friends suggested I go and talk to her. I froze, and I found I could not. My friends had finished their beers, and I suggested we go home. They wouldn't hear it. They were going to force me to talk to her even if it killed me. I still refused to get up and talk to her. The one thing that my antidepressants did not give me was a shot of courage. I kept telling my buds that I didn't have a reason to go over there, except to get her name and phone number.

After much deliberation, by friends decided that they would invite themselves over to the girls' table, sit down and introduce themselves. I would leave the bar for a few minutes, and walk in, like I was meeting the guys there and they would invite me to sit with them. It was a bit of a childish plan, but we figured it would work, and I would have a chance to meet this girl I had been star-crossed with all year.

I left the bar, and peeking through the door I saw my friends sit down with the two ladies. I stood in the hallway for a few minutes, trying to clear my head. There was no way I was going to get around this; I was going to meet her, and anything could happen. I was also worried about my friends, as I was not sure if I could trust them. I was sure they were going to sit down, and tell her every little detail about my little obsession over her. I figured they were going to embarrass me, which would have been a fate worse than death. If I waited too long, I was convinced that these guys would spill the beans, and it would be better if I stopped them by walking to the table and meeting with destiny.

So I gingerly approached the table and made some story up about how I had been looking all over the place for the guys. I finally got to meet her. We were introduced, but sadly I cannot remember her name anymore. The conversation ended up being what I had expected: short, simple, and very superficial. She didn't speak much, and when she did, she said very little. My friends did most of the talking, and I got the feeling that we were regarded as a bunch of guys looking for some girls to pick up. I was really hoping that this meeting would break the ice a little, and we would speak again in the future. Unfortunately, it seemed like this meeting closed the door instead.

I never spoke to her again. I only saw her a couple more times around campus in the following years; nothing more than a glimpse. Whenever I saw her, I remembered the exhilaration I felt those first few weeks when I first saw her in class, when she would look at me and smile. I remembered singing Indestructible at the top of my lungs at all hours of the day and night, believing I was a flawless human being, and the object of desire of every female I met. I often wonder where she is today; if she is single, if she is happy, and above all, I wonder what she really thought of me.

Memories of what could have been (not unlike this anecdote) plague my consciousness every day. I wonder if it would have changed my life, or if fate would have brought me to the same place I am today.

If you were that young woman who sat in front of me in that class, I would be happy to hear from you. I only want to know what you thought of me those many years ago.

Precautionary Measures

This site has been operational for nearly eleven months. Some of the interesting things that have transpired over this time, is that I have likely written enough words to encompass a few novels by now, I have managed to obtain a few loyal readers, I have learned a few things about writing, a few things about programming, and a few things about myself. I am equally surprised that I have continued blogging over the course of this entire year. When I created this page, I would have bet that I would have quit blogging after a month or two. But here I am, nearly one year later, still writing away.

One thing that has been long overdue, is that I created a backup of this webpage, and saved it on my computer. I should have known well enough by now, given the fact that I have had computer troubles and loss of data over the past year. Even in years past, I have lost gigabytes of data due to computer crashes, bad hard drives, and operating system upgrades. After investing countless hours into the development of this site, and writing tens of thousands of words, I would hate to have all my thoughts disappear into oblivion if (and when) Blogger crashes. Even Matthew Good has not been immune to the wrath of computer failure, as he has mentioned in more than a few posts that he has lost months of writing. He has been lucky that his readership is large enough that a few good Samaritans were able to provide archives of Matt's entries. My readership is by many factors smaller than Matt's (he has claimed to get up to one million hits per month on his blog; I'm lucky to get 100), so statistically speaking, relying on the generosity of others to provide me with an archive of my writing is extremely remote.

While conducting the backup of this site, I made the innocent mistake of reading a few entries. I ended up being quite proud of the entries of the first few months. I felt my writing was objective, intelligent, detailed and overall enthralling. I was discussing many themes that were occupying my mind, and many of them had a philosophical twist to the writing. I think it is obvious that my writing has changed over the course of the year -- I hope it has changed for the better. I have found my early entries had little to do with recent events of my life, while recent entries are accounts of daily occurrences, as well as odd tidbits of product releases, etc. As of late, I am writing less, and less often. That being said, I am not sure if I am writing more concisely or not.

I was hoping to wait until the first anniversary of this site to discuss my future vision for this page, but perhaps this time is as good as any to reflect on the last year and plan for the future.

For the next year, like every other blogger, I want to increase my readership. Some bloggers, like Raymi, have been blogging for four or more years, and it has taken them as long to develop a dedicated following. Relatively speaking, this page is in its' infancy. I still don't even feel like I have found my voice, or the proper gimmick to allow this site to rise above the average weblog (a quick search for 'blog' has netted some 182 million webpages). I consider the best advice given to bloggers by fellow bloggers is to write well, and write often, if you wish to increase your readership. People will spread good writing by word of mouth (or word of hyperlink, in the 21st Century).

This year, I hope to include more images. People love pictures, myself included. Some of the best blogs I have read have included wondrous images either pulled from the web, or taken and modified themselves. I have dire need of a digital camera, and perhaps even a webcam. Voyeurism is a huge influence on web traffic; those who publish lots of photos of themselves (especially risqué images) get huge amounts of traffic. I will not resort to nudity or otherwise suggestive / pornographic material in order to increase my web traffic. But once I have a digital camera, the frequency of images will increase on this site. The other issue I am facing with images, is the problem of hosting. My "free" solution is not as successful as I had hoped. I have lost a great many images in cyberspace, and I would like a bit more stability in order to preserve the integrity of my entries. I am currently getting into the habit of storing backups of all my images on my computer in the event that subsequent images go AWOL.

A facelift may occur in the coming months. I am convinced that the background image is too bright, and makes the journal entries difficult to read. I have been really happy with the Blogger template provided in this page, including the color scheme. It will only be a matter of time that I will grow tired of this look, and desire something different.

I feel that "MC Fro's Top 5 Tunes" as well as the "Recently Read" sections of the sidebar may meet an untimely end. They are time-consuming to maintain, and I doubt that many of you are interested in those aspects of my interests. It may be difficult to let go of the Top 5 songs, mainly because I am passionate about the music I listen to, even though I feel that the list is not representative of my current musical tastes.

I fully expect that my writing style will evolve over the course of the next year. I hope to be blogging more about my personal life, as well as the depraved thoughts that plague my mind on a daily basis. I love the idea of publishing how incredibly messed-up I am on here. Even more so, I love the idea that people would read my thoughts and say "Wow, is that MC Fro ever fucked-up! I'm glad I'm not as crazy as he."

In the future, I believe that profanity will be within these entries in higher frequency. This was a difficult decision to make. Actually, it wasn't as much an intellectual decision as it was an emotional one. The truth be known, is that I don't like writing profanity. I think it tarnishes good writing, but in the blogging element, profanity tends to increase traffic. To further reinforce this point, I would like my writing to come a little more from the heart, rather than from the brain. Obviously, if I feel like swearing, I'm going to swear, rather than find some other creative way to be crude. It's not like anybody is censoring my entries anyway. Who the fuck did that? Damn you, guilty conscience!

I hope you return to see what will be new and exciting during the second season of mcfro.blogspot.com.

It's Good To Be Back

Last nights' show at the Hylton demonstrated a 100% improvement in the overall performance of our band. Did we ever have a good time last night. The bar was packed again; full of rowdy rock & rollers. A number of my friends managed to attend the show, and even some friends from years past surprisingly attended. I never managed to determine if they knew I'd be there or if the meeting was purely coincidental. Regardless, I reestablished some old ties, and managed to gather a few more friends (and fans) to attend our performance in Calgary next weekend.

The overall tally for last night was:
2 broken drumsticks
4+ alcoholic beverages (I lost count after 4)
1 paycheck.

The guys in the band keep kicking my ass on stage telling me to hit harder. Every stick I break is 7 bucks down the toilet. For that price them drumsticks better heat my house. I threw a fit last night, when a fresh pair of sticks didn't even last 30 minutes. I'm going to have to demand a raise, since equipment maintenance and replacement does not come cheap (note to self: buy bigger sticks). I'm already spending a few nights in a hotel next week, so that means I will be making very little cash in Calgary. I know it's all about having fun, but when I spend time in Calgary, I end up going to music shops and then I spend 2 months' salary on toys. The last time I went shopping in Edmonton, I ended up having 5k worth of toys in my hands, and it proved very difficult to be selective at what I really needed. I really will have to do my best to restrain myself this weekend, but there are far too many toys on my wish list. Unfortunately, it is very difficult to get some of the articles I desire in town, and if they are available in town, they are overpriced.

Today ended up being a rough one. I didn't get home until 4:00 this morning, and I slept until 11:00. Gigging late for the last two nights felt like someone hit me with a sack of hammers. I ended up sleeping for another two hours in the afternoon. I hope that my sleep schedule can return to normal by tomorrow. It's going to be a long week, but filled with fun and adventure.

First-Gig Jitters

The first gig is always the hardest to get through. You never know what to expect, even after three weeks' of rehearsals. The band members forget to teach you songs, arrangements are changed or forgotten, you have difficulty hearing the other players on stage due to poor monitors, and above all the influence of alcohol always plays a part.

I would not be lying if I said I was not nervous before and during the performance. I had a bit of the jitters, as I was trying my best to remember all the songs we had practiced, and if I didn't, how many of those would turn into train wrecks. I was certainly more excited than nervous, and having adrenaline mixed in with a little alcohol is a dangerous concoction in the body. Both do very well at altering your perception of time. For a drummer, being able to control those chemicals can make the difference between being a solid drummer and one who is fired.

I was solid as a rock last night, even though there were many times where I screwed up. I did miss a lot of changes, shots, pushes and pulls, and even some of my harmonies were absent. The bass player spent most of the time on stage kicking my ass, conducting with his axe, and yelling at me above the aural assault. He was just trying to help me, and I never took it personally. After we would get off the stage for breaks, he would return to his normal self, and we would be cool to one another. I really shouldn't complain about last night's show; it was the first gig, and it's only going to get better from here. Overall, the other band members were very supportive of my efforts, and were quite pleased to have me on deck with them.

Overall, we played very well last night. For a new band, were we tight. The bar was packed for much of the night, and the patrons were drunk and rowdy. In addition, a few local musicians went out of their way to catch us, and they were very supportive of our performance. I do like schmoozing with other musicians at gigs.

We managed to win the hearts of a few patrons last night and managed to sell a few signed CD's. I still feel a little weird signing my name on an album that I did not record. That will soon change, and some of the band members are pushing to have a second album out by the end of the summer. That sounds a little ambitious to me, and I am a person of the opinion that you should make your money back on the sales of the first CD before you decide to commit to a sophomore effort. I expect we will sell a bunch of CD's next weekend in Calgary.

Gawd! There's one in every bar. The shit-faced, loud geriatric who can barely stand, yet knows everything about everything. We nearly got verbally assaulted by this loudmouth who thought he knew a thing or two about music, and he would
not...
shut...
up!

After years of sluuging it out in the trenches of the Canadian music scene, I have lost all my patience for people like this, and was one of the contributing reasons why I quit playing in bars for three years. I must be a magnet for bullshitters. I get all the arrogant know-it-alls, while the other guys get all the hot babes. I'd love to tell these people to take a hike, or get out of my face, but I'm just too kind. I also learned very early on in my bar-hopping days that you can never argue with a drunk without serious repercussions.

1. Never argue with a drunk.
   
2. If you find yourself in a situation where there is no option but to argue with a drunk, see rule #1.
   
3. Failure to comply with rule #1 or #2 will find the situation will result in a heated one-way discussion about why the drunk is right and you are dead wrong. The best advice is to smile, nod, and accept defeat.
   
4. Failure to comply with rule #3 will likely result in a verbal assault from the opposing party. These can vary from simple name calling to crudely crafted insults. You may even be surprised that someone with a blood-alcohol level higher than Boris Yeltsen's can create new and offensive phrases in an attempt to goad you into a fight. At this point, you are on a slippery slope, and the situation will very likely escalate to #5.
5. Physical conflict. No rules apply anymore at this point. The drunk will generally try to get you to throw the first punch. If you keep your cool, you might be able to get him to throw the first punch. It doesn't matter, as by this time, both of you will be ejected from the establishment.
   
6. Never argue with a drunk.
   

The end result of last night's gig:
1 Alcoholic beverage
1 Broken drumstick
1 Blister
1 Annoying drunk

The Cat's Out Of The Bag...

Ok, first thing's first. I have been feeling fantastic for the last week and a half. I believe I have finally passed the [kidney] stone, though I don't have any definitive proof. I have returned to my normal self, I haven't missed any work, and I haven't had to take a painkiller since two Saturdays ago. Monday morning, I went to the Hospital for more tests and X-rays, so I should have a better understanding of the status of my health in a few weeks when I see the specialist again.

As far as I'm concerned, the wrath of the stone is over.

Many moons ago, I mentioned here that I had some exciting news I could barely wait to share. It has taken a number of months for events to develop, but I feel that it is now safe that I can share the news with you. One afternoon while shopping for toys, the owner of a local music store approached me and asked me if I wanted the principal drum instructor job at his shop. I would be responsible for teaching some 90 students, and managing my own schedule. Equipment would be provided, so I did not have to worry about wear and tear on my own equipment. All I had to do was pay the owner a monthly rental fee. It sounded like a great deal, and I would be able to pursue music as a full-time career once again, just like I did in 1999 and 2000.

I regrettably did not take the job. A lot of people may regard this as a mistake, but let me assure you this was not an easy decision to make. I had to think long and hard about making music a full-time endeavor again in my life. When I tried it for two years, I found them to be two of the most difficult years of my life, and was I ever poor. It was a fight to just pay my bills every month, and what little left-over I had went to saving for next month's bills. Travel is very expensive, and when you are eating three meals per day in restaurants, the money you make disappears very quickly.

The other major concern I had regarding this job was the high capacity of students I would have to teach. Contrary to popular belief, teaching is not an easy job. There is a great deal of stress and preparation involved in providing every student the best guidance you can give them. In 1999, I had approximately 20 students, and I nearly hit burn-out. Teaching was a complete chore, the lessons dragged on, and seemed to get longer with every passing week. I ended up quitting teaching in 2000 to finish my degree. When I graduated in 2001, I found myself back teaching to put a little extra cash in my pocket.

If I could not handle teaching 20 students, how am I going to manage 90? There have been times in my life where I absolutely hated music; like being trapped in my own personal hell. I never want to hate music again.

The band and I took a few hours to set up our equipment at the Redcliff Hylton last night. I had an incredible feeling of relief when I walked into that bar last night; a lot like returning home from a long vacation. I haven't gigged at the Hylton in over three years. It's such a dump, but the atmosphere of these bars grow on you. I love the old, smelly bars where the low-lifes, the dangerous, and the rowdy like to drown their sorrows. I like the fact that every line on their face tells a story, and every drink they have seems well-deserved. These people have hearts of gold, and even though they have few possessions, they would give them all to you if it would help you out. These people are generous, and not greedy. And if you let them, they will tell you incredible stories about their life -- of course you don't have to believe every word they say.

While we were setting up the gear all the guys in the band were getting excited, talking about how long it has been since they played a show, and how much they were looking forward to the next night. Playing gigs in bars is highly addictive. It's like a weekly fix; if you miss out on a few dosages, you begin to long for that adrenaline rush.

It's going to be a huge adrenaline rush tonight.

Bleed Like Me

Bleed Like Me is Garbage's fourth major release in the band's history, and is slated for a worldwide release on April 11th. I listened to a sound byte of their new single "Why do you love me" on the iTunes music store, and I am blown away. I am a Garbage fanatic once again -- well, I never quit being one, but by the sound of this single, they have returned to their roots. This song sounds a lot like their debut album, full of raw, sexy rock energy.

Looks like I'd better book an appointment with Future Shop on April 11th.

Here Phishy, Phishy, Phishy

Now before you get all excited, this post has nothing to do with the alternative-rock band Phish. Instead, it has more to do with "phishing emails", those unsolicited emails that you get in your inbox that appear to be from a legitimate company, but instead try to lure you into providing them with your personal information. Yet another scam.

Well, last week I nearly had to cancel my credit card over a phishing email. Late one evening I was checking my email in a drunken stupor. I got a message that appeared to be from PayPal, discussing that there were security issues with my account, and that I was being asked to confirm some of my information that they keep on-file. The email appeared legitimate, as there were the proper graphics, and proper links embedded within the email.

At this point, I did not know what to think of the email message that was sent to my inbox. It seemed rather convincing, though vague. I clicked the link, where I suppose it would have taken me to a secondary webpage where it would ask me to "confirm" my account information. Then the warning light went on. Thank the maker for Firefox, as it displayed a warning that I was on an unencrypted page. PayPal would not dare operate without unencrypted pages.

Then the 30-watt bulb that sits idly inside my cranium went off. The email was sent to my Yahoo! account. I have no PayPal account at that address. This was a blatant scam, and I nearly fell for it! I did a quick search on the web, and sure enough, this site told me everything I wanted to know about this scam.

Fraud Watcher International is a good site to bookmark, especially if you get a lot of unsolicited mail in your inbox. If you are like me, I get so much spam that I can hardly sift through it all. I luckily have spam filters on my email accounts, so I can spend more of my time reading legitimate email rather than sifting through all the garbage. This also means that I do not check my junk-mail folder for legitimate emails that were mistaken for spam.

While you're at it, ditch Outlook Express, and try Thunderbird. It has a pretty snazzy filter that has the ability to "learn" to automatically detect spam. Better yet, I would ditch everything that bears the Micro$oft logo. But that's my humble opinion.

Daily Reading for the John:

Here are two brilliant blogs you should visit daily.

tonypierce.com + busblog

raymitheminx

Tony is a brilliant writer who has a rather cynical nature to his writing. Because of which, I like him already. More often than not, I find myself laughing out loud to his borderline rudeness.

Raymi, on the other hand, has a much different style. She avoids punctuation (a style of writing I cannot stand), however her approach to life is like an adventure. Even the most mundane aspects of one's life becomes paramount. She also has a bit of cynicism to her writing.

Now, go read, laugh, and read some more.

The First Gig is Upon Me

This is a friendly reminder that my first performance with Müle Shöe will be March 25-26, 2005 at the Redcliff Hylton. The show will start at approximately 9:00 PM, and continue until about 2:00 AM. There is no admission fee. You are all invited to attend (if you can make it, that is).

To get to the Hylton, drive to Redcliff, and take Broadway (the main street) until you reach a 4-way Stop sign. Turn right, and drive ~1/2 a block until you reach an old 3-storey hotel on the left-side of the road. Enter the hotel, and you should be met by some very loud Rock and Roll.

I should warn you, the bar is a dump. If you don't like dingy bars, then probably you should wait until we are playing a slightly nicer venue.

A Psychology Lesson Interspersed With Music

I cannot recall if I have ever discussed left-brained versus right-brained drumming on this weblog before. It is a rather complicated topic, with its' roots buried in Psychology rather than music.

Understanding the complexities of the brain is a huge academic undertaking, and even leading professors of Psychology will tell you that we still understand only very little of the workings of the brain. So, please accept this as my disclaimer that I know very little about the brain itself, but I know enough that I can make a few generalizations to further facilitate this entry.

The frontal lobe of the brain is divided into two halves: the left side, and the right. Both sides operate differently, and both sides are responsible for different aspects of thought, and reasoning. The left side of the brain is the logical side. It is highly mathematical, and rational, among other things, controls the actions on the right side of your body. The right side, is the more creative side of the brain, and controls actions on the left side of your body.

There have been many studies that have shown that artists are generally left-handed. This would make some sense since as just explained, the right side of the brain controls creativity. I am not going to develop this argument further, as I really don't have much knowledge of these statistics, but I would like to take this a step further as it pertains to music and drumming.

When a student takes lessons from an instructor (such as myself), they are provided with a number of exercises that helps develop the student's coordination and reading abilities. Exercises are little more than that - read, and execute in ad infinitum until proficiency develops. Exercises such as the above are logical, and thus only develop the left side of the brain.

Many of my students have developed a proficiency in exercises not unlike those described above, but when I ask them to just "play the drums", they fail miserably. What they play is tortured, rigid, and unmusical. The answer to why they cannot "play the drums" is simply because playing the drums without written material requires development of the right side of the brain.

Developing the creative side of the brain is much more difficult than assigning exercises that develop coordination. I am attempting to address this issue with some of my more advanced students to see how they take to this new approach. It will take a number of weeks, but I am going to see if they can eventually make music without the aid of written material.

Creative drumming is a lot like singing a song, or even speaking a sentence. Music is a language, thus it has conventions that are similar to written and spoken language. There are nouns, verbs, adjectives, grammar, and punctuation of sorts in music. Trying to get my students to speak in such a language is going to be a difficult task. The only way I think I can facilitate this is by starting very simply. Get the student to play some simple figures on the snare drum, and try to get them to develop on that idea. The ideas should be further developed by adding more complex rhythms, and colors such as toms and cymbals.

Applying the rudiments to this exercise is key to the success of this program. So far, I am going to spend a few weeks on the single-stroke roll, as this is the most often used rudiment, and likely, the most diverse.

I will also have to find a way that I can teach them how to listen to other players in order for the experiment to be a success. I have yet to determine the best approach to this idea. If my memory remains intact, I will update this weblog to indicate the degree of success of this experiment.

I Need a New "Desk"

It is likely that I may have to purchase a sub-mixer during my stint in Müle Shöe, so I was doing some searching online, and I found the coolest desk that would do everything I need it to do, and then some. I cannot belive all the features built-into this little model. I could use it live, and I could plug it into my computer for recording. The price tag is pretty steep though.

I might have to consider buying the 1620. It's a little cheaper. I might miss the extra XLR inputs, and the subgroup section. The 1220 model is a lot cheaper, but I think it won't do everything I need it to.

The firewire card sells separately. That's like another $500 bucks on top of the board, but it would be worth the price of admission -- especially having the ability to plug it into my computer.

How many gigs do I have to play before the thing pays for itself? My guess is at least 10 weekends.

Just Threw Away 60 Hours

Amidst my "illness", I have found a way to pass the time. In fact, it has nearly consumed what little free time I have. I bought the PC game, Knights of the Old Republic when I first fell ill, and I could not stop playing it.

I finally beat the game today, only to find myself yearning to hit 'reset' and begin the adventure all over again. This has got to be one of the best (if not, the best) video game I have ever played. Period. Well, I felt the ending was a little soft, but that's almost a non-issue when you consider the size, scope, detail, storyline, and action this game has to offer. No wonder it won Game of the Year for 2004.

What really made this game is the non-linearity of it. It really allows the player to immerse himself in the game and discover all the juicy tidbits for themselves. In addition, the course of the game can change depending on your choices.

Sure, I played a "do-right" Jedi for my first attempt at the game. But the next time around, I think I am going to just let myself fall to the Dark Side... And stay there.

BTW, if you hadn't heard by now, the full trailer for Episode III is being aired tonight on the Fox Television Show "The O.C.". I can hardly wait to see the trailer, but I think I can wait long enough to avoid watching the television show.

Building a Curriculum

For reasons that soon will become evident (remember my little "secret"), I have been considering building a comprehensive drum curriculum for my students. The idea is to build a graduated system with four or six levels of difficulty. Upon completion of the program, the student should have enough knowledge that they can gain acceptance to the music program in almost any post-secondary institution.

Warning! This entry may be very boring to the common reader!

The problem I am facing, is that I have so many topics I want to cover in said program, that it would virtually impossible for any student to complete the program in six years. I have about 40 drum-related books, plus I have literally hundreds (maybe even thousands) of exercises from issues of Modern Drummer Magazine.

What I really should do, is consult the music faculties at nearby Colleges and Universities, and ask them what their requirements are to gain acceptance to their program. Another avenue which would be beneficial is to pick up a copy of the Royal Conservatory of Music Drum Syllabus, and do some research there. It is easier to write such a program when you know what it should cover in the end.

I would really like a four-tier system, as this would work nicely with the way I teach rudiments. Since I teach 40 rudiments, I break them up into four sets of 10, of increasing difficulty. I would like to teach ten in each tier. I doubt I could cover all the material I would like in four short years. Six years might be more manageable. This works well, as most high-school band programs are six years in length. I still don't believe that proficiency in the high-school band program would guarantee acceptance into the music program at a post-secondary institution.

I know that my program should cover the following elements:

1. Rudiments
2. Coordinated Independence
3. Reading
4. Symphonic Snare Technique
5. Tympani
6. Auxiliary Percussion (Tambourine, Bells, Shakers, etc.)
   
7. Latin Percussion (Bongos, Conga, and Timbale)
8. Mallets (Xylophone, Vibes, and Marimba)
9. Rock Drumming
10. Jazz Drumming
11. Latin / World Percussion

Many of these subjects can take years to attain an acceptable degree of proficiency. The study of Jazz drumming, for instance, is a lifetime endeavor. How am I going to compress all I need my students to know in six years? Furthermore, I do not have access to all the instruments I would like. I only have a drumset and a few auxiliary percussion instruments at my disposal. It is unbelievable how expensive symphonic instruments are. I don't have the space I need to keep tympani and a marimba in my studio. I barely have enough room for two drumsests!

It is likely that I am going to have to first build a very large program, and then do my best to separate the "wheat from the chaff". I can already see that this process is going to take years.

Years ago, studio legend Gary Chester created a brilliant drumming program. Many of the exercises he provided to his students are noted in his books "The New Breed", and "The New Breed 2". One of his brilliant motivational tools was if his students performed his practice material well enough, Gary would then assign the student a "Bonus" exercise. The Bonus, was an exercise of considerable difficulty. I find it ironic that a student would be pleased by being assigned an incredibly difficult exercise, but Gary was a unique teacher, and drummers would travel across the world to study with him.

I thought I would like to apply the bonus ideas to my curriculum. I don't think I could build a system superior to Gary's, but it might be the answer to creating a comprehensive drum program with a minimal amount of paperweight.

Let's start simple. In the program I wish to build, the majority of the student's first year of studies would focus on Ted Reed's Syncopation. This is a brilliant book. At first glance, the book doesn't look like much, but it is in the applications that this book really shines. There are a million different ways to play the exercises in the book. It is in the applications that I hope I can build some ideas for Bonus exercises for ambitious beginner students. The student of course, would have to demonstrate the ability to perform the assigned exercise to some degree of proficiency, but then, I could apply the bonuses. The bonuses could get more complicated as the student progresses in the book. The following list is just a few ideas on the different ways to apply the first 12 lessons in Ted Reed's Book.

1. Play the exercise as written
2. Play the bass drum part with the hi-hat and play the snare part with the bass drum
3. As (2, above), but play 2 & 4 on the snare.
   
4. Play the exercise as written, but play eighth notes on the hi-hat or ride.
   
5. Play the exercise as written, but play a bossa-nova or samba pattern with the bass drum
6. Play the exercise as written, with a jazz ride pattern, plus 2&4 on the hi-hat with the left foot
7. Play the exercise as written, plus any of the following hi-hat patterns: quarter notes, eighth notes, sixteenth notes, broken triplets (i.e. shuffle), plus various broken sixteenth note patterns.
   
8. Play any of the above exercises, adding either quarter notes, eighth notes, upbeat eighths, or 2&4 with the left-foot on the hi-hat pedal.

As you can see, using the above applications, there is no shortage of bonus material. Some, of course are much harder than others.

All this being said, to just cover the above 8 applications could potentially take the student 8 years to learn just the book. I think I am in over my head. I may return to this subject at a time when I have a better understanding of what I am getting myself into.

The Stone Awakes

There is nothing worse for a musician than to bail-out on a gig. Sadly, I had to do just that last night.

I spent last night in the Emergency... Again.

The pain had returned with a vengeance yesterday, and no volume of cranberry juice could give me any relief. I called SK in the afternoon, apologizing to him profusely that I would not be able to perform with him that night. I had told him of my predicament a few days earlier, so he was quite understanding of my situation.

So I went to the hospital, and was admitted immediately. Once again, I was poked and prodded with all kinds of pointy instruments of torture, and samples of every fluid imaginable was taken from my body. They gave me an IV of some pretty hefty drugs, and in no time, I was feeling no pain.

Speaking with the Emergency Room physician put me at ease a little bit. He said that if I haven't passed the stone within a week, it is likely that they will have to do something about it (i.e. operate). I ended up leaving the hospital four hours later with a few prescriptions of some pretty hefty medication.

I got a 10-day prescription of some antibiotics, which should cure my "infection", which is only aggravating the situation further. On top of that, he gave me some seriously heavy painkillers, which a 10-milligram dose is more powerful than a daily dose of over-the-counter painkillers. I have never seen so many warning labels on a pill bottle in my life.

I was well enough to attend my second Müle Shöe rehearsal today. Things are coming along well. The guys in the band have been very kind to me, and they are patient and supportive. I am already looking forward to our first gig in Redcliff, and we will be ready.

I really hate to use puns, but this is going to be one kick-ass band.

I'm An Ass (Literally)

I have some exciting news to share. Late Monday night, I got a phone call from Guitar Wizard Chris, who asked me if I wanted to join one of Southern Alberta's Premier Rock Bands. I happily accepted.

Müle Shöe has been around for a few years now, and have recently released their debut album, Piles of Rock. I have mentioned this band on my blog a few times now, you can read past entries here and here. I have some pretty big shoes to fill, as drummer Connor has left the band for unknown reasons. There is a repertoire of about sixty songs that I am going to have to learn in a few short weeks. And I am going to have to learn them well in very short notice.

You see, In less than a month, Müle Shöe is going to be featured on the A-Channel in Calgary for a performance and interview. More details about showtimes will be coming to this page in the near future (I believe it's a late-night show called "Wired", but I could be mistaken). I am quite happy about the fact that I am going to be gigging a lot more often in the near future. Müle Shöe tour dates will be made available via their webpage (bookmark their page, *hint, hint*). Sadly, I do not manage their webpage, nor do I know who does at this time.

Speaking of which, I will be gigging this weekend, but this time, not with Müle Shöe. I will be playing with SK, whom I have mentioned in this blog a few times before. We will be entertaining a local watering hole, and likely having a great time doing so.

My free time is dwindling away. I have rehearsals the next few nights, so I imagine that I am going to be sleep-deprived the next few days.

An Answer

After waiting for two weeks, I have managed to see a specialist about my "little" health problem. A review of the test results have shown that there is a stone located between by kidneys and my bladder. It is anyone's guess when the stone will pass, if it has not passed already. All that I have been prescribed is more tests. So, at best, it will be another three weeks before I will know if I have passed the stone, if it has moved, or if surgery will be necessary.

The specialist doesn't seem to think that surgery will be necessary. He seems to think that I won't even feel the stone passing. I have a nagging feeling that I will.

Sovereignty?

I still believe I am suffering from kidney stones. My discomfort has been on and off during this past week, but I still think it's going to be a few more days before I know whether it's "going to be a boy or a girl". I am seeing a specialist this week in order to get some consultation on what it is exactly, that I have. When I made the appointment, the receptionist told me the doctor was booking well into April. I told her my predicament, and she moved me up to the earliest available spot. I really don't think I can wait another six weeks to find out what's wrong with me. This ordeal has been long enough already.

I wanted to comment on Canada's official decision to not participate in Missile Defence. Everything that has been needed to be said, has probably been already, but there were a few things this week that caught my attention. The US Ambassador to Canada, Paul Cellucci made a statement regarding Canada's decision to not participate in the Missile Defence program. He said:

"We will deploy. We will defend North America," he said. "We simply cannot understand why Canada would in effect give up its sovereignty - its seat at the table - to decide what to do about a missile that might be coming towards Canada." - Globe & Mail

I find this statement preposterous. Giving up our sovereignty by not participating in the missile defence program? It's like saying the most non-aggressive kid in the playground has all the rocks and sticks to intimidate all the rest of the kids in the playground. A non-aggressive kid has no need for rocks and sticks. In this case, the United States is using the Missile Defence program and it's Nuclear arsenal to intimidate and push around the other world powers. If we return to the playground analogy, United States foreign policy (specifically, Iraq and Afghanistan) is demonstrated by the big bully pushing around the weakest runts.

Instead, I would say that Canada demonstrated their sovereignty by not participating in missile defence.

It was also stated (sadly, I don't remember who said this) that if Canada wanted to be a ballistic missile target, then participation in the missile defence program would be required. I have stated this before, Canada is the missile shield. Ballistic missiles will likely be fired over the North Pole. If the missiles are shot down, where will they land but on Canadian soil? The Missile Defence program sounded like a sour deal to me from the very beginning.

I am proud that us Canadian citizens, including our representatives in Government, have taken a stand at very serious issue.

Pain (Continued)

My return trip to the hospital was a lot less painful. The test they wanted to administer was actually called a CT; I misunderstood the hospital receptionist while speaking to her on the phone earlier in the morning. I suppose if I wasn't so tired that I would have been able to understand her better.

The CT is, for the most part, just an Electromagnetic Imaging System. I was placed on a table, and my body was then moved into a large circular chamber resembling a large donut (or, as geeks call them, a toroid). Superconductors spin at a high rate of speed within the toroid, generating a huge electromagnetic field, also making a rather eerie sound. The eerieness was also elevated as the generated magnetic field caused the hairs on my body to stand on end. With the aid of computers, doctors are able to generate an image of your innards (but you did know that, right?). It was all over in less than two minutes.

I wish I could have seen the image of my excretory system on the screens. I really would have liked to see the image of what's been causing me grief the last week. I will have to wait until I book an appointment with the Urologist to see my results. Since the earliest that can happen is Tuesday, I may very well pass the stone by then.

That doesn't mean that the rest of my Friday was a walk in the park. The entire day was difficult to endure. I (obviously) took the day off work, and spend the day wandering around the house deciding if I should eat, drink fluids, take a nap, or do something productive like clean the house. Sleep did not come easy and only managed a total of 3 hours' napping in the morning and afternoon. When I finally woke up late in the afternoon, the discomfort in my lower back had risen. For a good four hours, I was clenching my teeth in pain that rose to new heights and would subside, much like a sadistic tease. I took a T3, which did nothing for the pain, and realized that I had better fill my prescription, as I would likely be eating these like candy in order to make the next few days manageable.

Much later in the evening, the pain subsided -- at least for now. I managed to get six hours sleep, which is a lot more than I got in the last 48 hours. The pain could strike again at any time, and I fully expect the next few days are not going to be pleasant.

Pain

This has not been a very good week for me. There have been times that I have been in a considerable amount of pain, which has sent me to the doctor's office for tests. I wasn't surprised when I never heard back from my test results.

I woke up in the middle of last night in a large amount of pain. It was enough that I could not get comfortable, nor could I get back to sleep. 3:00 AM found me on the way to the Emergency. I spent three hours being poked, and prodded, samples of bodily fluids were obtained for testing, and I was intravenously administered some pretty powerful painkillers. I was released from the ER at 6:00 AM being told I would likely be called in the morning to return to the hospital for more tests.

The ER Doctor suspects I have a kidney stone. He also has high hopes that the stone will be removed from my body naturally, (that is to say, the hard way). I should not hesitate to mention that I did not get a wink of sleep last night.

That being said, I am scheduled to return to the hospital at noon for X-rays. They wanted to inject me full of radioactive dye and then X-ray my tissues, but instead, they now want to perform some other test, called a CG. They didn't give me any more details of the test, so I called a friend of mine who is an RN, and asked her what a CG was. She didn't have a very good idea of what it was, but from what she said, that it was likely less invasive than being injected with dye.

What a week. This put the kybosh on my weekend plans, as I expected to visit some out-of-town friends this weekend. Instead, it looks like I am going to be lying on the floor in unpredictable periods of agony until the stone decides to make its' exit.

I suspect I will update this when I return from the Interrogation Chamber, er, I mean the hospital.

Weekend Jams, The Return of "Serious Damage", and Passive Personality Traits

It seems as of late, the only time I "go out on the town" is to catch a local band playing in one of the watering holes. This was a particularity full weekend of live music, as I went to see two bands on two separate occasions.

Saturday afternoon was spent at my favorite stomping ground, where there is an open jam every week. I go to the jam whenever I have the time and the energy. The great thing about the jam is once you play three songs, you get free alcohol (yes, free booze!) and your name gets entered in a draw for $100 cash prize at the end of the jam. The problem with the Saturday jam, is by 6:00, I am usually so drunk that I am at home and in bed by 8:00. What a way to spend a Saturday night.

This week a few friends of mine were the hosting band, and I haven't had the opportunity to visit with them in some time. They were kind enough to ask me to join them on-stage for a few numbers. I got to play that old 60's tune "Spooky" with them, which is one of my favorites to play with them, as I can let loose and play some intricate stuff. By the end of my short set, I was hungry and wanted to get out of the bar. I rarely stay to see the end of the jam.

The Saturday jams are touch-and-go. There have been days were the jams were really cooking; a lot of musicians showed up, there was good music happening, and good comradery. Days like this are getting fewer and far between. Fewer jammers are attending the Saturday jam, and likely for a large number of reasons. The biggest reason is obvious, there is a "clique" of sorts among the musicians at this bar. If you can prove yourself musically, and you kiss some ass, then you might gain access to the clique. The funny thing is with this clique, the musicians generally aren't working players. Their only gig is this Saturday jam. They have such big egos, that they figure that they are the better than the other musicians that go to this bar, yet they aren't great musicians in the first place. But if you want to get up and play, you'd better be prepared to do some ass-kissing.

I have refused to play this game for the better part of six years. It has gained me some respect with a few of the players at this particular club, while others snub their nose at me. Quite often, they will be pleasant with me when they are presented in a situation where they cannot avoid me, otherwise they would ignore me. If having a positive attitude is conducive to networking with other musicians, then I refuse to play this ego-game with these so-called musicians. I called their bluff a long time ago, and they know that I know their secret: they really aren't as good as they think they are.

Many of these jammers are the type that will watch and listen to the bands, and will scope out who they think is the best player in the club. They will then approach said player, befriend them, buy them drinks, and start kissing his or her ass. They will eventually go insofar as to suggest starting a "side-project" band with this player. The whole idea is that these parasites will surround themselves with the most talented players that they possibly can. This way, it makes them (the novice) look and sound a lot better than they are. The truth is, a terrible player , even surrounded by the best musicians still sounds like a terrible player.

These ass-kissing antics should not affect me. I know what these losers are doing when they start talking to me and buying me drinks. I should just roll with it and play these people for all they are worth. Unfortunately, I am disgusted and annoyed by this behavior. When I subject myself to this behavior, I find it mentally taxing. I don't like getting smoke blown up my tailpipe.

When I meet with other musicians in this town, I avoid kissing anyone's ass. I will often discuss topics totally unrelated to music. I must admit, the subject of music is difficult to avoid when talking with other musicians. You sometimes have to be very careful about what you say, you see, talking music with other musicians is often a lot like discussing religion and politics. We know discussing the latter two topics is a good way of quickly making enemies.

On Friday night, I went to see DS, another friend of mine who was playing in another club in town. This gentleman was one of the members of the Grease band, and I hadn't seen him since early December. He and I discussed the possibility of putting a band together and making some money playing a few clubs. I hadn't heard anything about this new band as of late, so I figured I should make the effort to re-establish old ties, and put the bug back in his ear.

After watching "The Lizard Brothers" for about thirty minutes, two other musicians AB and TH walked in the club and joined me at my table. AB was also a member of the Grease band, as well as the third prospective member of this new band. He also bailed me out last December, playing a gig with me on short notice. We had a few drinks, and talked about a few things (well, as much as you can discuss over an 80-decibel PA).

When the band took a break, the conversation went from light to serious. DS joined us at the table, and the three of us began discussing the possibility of making this prospective band a reality. Both DS and AB sounded enthusiastic about the idea. The problem is, that the three of us have very busy schedules, which is going to make it difficult for us to get together for rehearsals.

After a few sets, I decided to leave the club. Before doing so, I told DS and AB that I would be in touch with them to schedule rehearsal times. Both AB and I agreed that we could have enough material that we could start gigging by summer.

That evening, while lying in bed, I came to the realization that if I want to make this band a reality, I am going to have to do most of the legwork. I have just spent the last two months waiting for the phone to ring. If I continue to wait, I might be waiting forever before that call arrives.

I consider myself a passive person. I usually wait for people to call me for gigs, I wait until I am asked to join someone on-stage at the Saturday jam, and I wait for someone to offer me a better job. I will have to become a more aggressive person if I want to make any progress in my career and musical endeavors. Otherwise, a better life might just pass me by.

I will have to make a change in my life before I am old and cranky.

What Happened to My RAM?

As mentioned in an earlier post this week, I like to keep my software up-to-date. While checking various newsgroups on the web, it was brought to my attention a new version of the Mac OS (version 10.3.8) was released. I did not hesitate to install the new software. The download and install went without a hitch, and I restarted my computer.

When the machine rebooted, and I logged into my user account, I discovered that my computer had lost 256 megabytes of RAM along the way. The computer is registering 512 megabytes of RAM, instead of 768. I have a 256MB DIMM in one slot, and a 512MB DIMM in the other. Checking the system profiler states that I have 2-256MB DIMMs installed.

I am at a total loss trying to figure out why only half the RAM in one DIMM is not registering. I have read information on numerous forums that the iMac G5 likes matched RAM, but if this were a problem, I would have figured that I would have had troubles much earlier.

If anybody out there has any ideas, I'd appreciate any feedback.

Wrath

A few years ago, in the cold of mid-winter, I got up early one morning to start my car when I realized that my car had been vandalized in the middle of the night. The drivers' side rearview mirror had been smashed, and parts of the plastic housing appeared to have been chipped off with a screwdriver. Broken plastic and parts were scattered directly below, and a large piece of the housing appeared to have been thrown across the street. Examining the damage, it appeared that this was no accident; whoever committed this act of vandalism was certainly angry at something, someone, or me directly.

To have this act committed against me only transferred the vandal's anger to me. It cost me a few hundred dollars to replace the mirror, not to mention the pain I felt that a person had a vendetta against me. I reported the incident to the police, but I knew there wasn't much the police could do.

Yesterday, while at the office, I managed to glance at my car outside the window. With the light of a new sunrise, I noticed that my car had been vandalized once again. I darted outside in the brisk air to take a closer look. It appeared that some idiot (who needs only to be referred as unprintable adjectives) jumped on the hood of my car. There were two large dents in the hood, and the paint had been scratched. Livid would hardly be the term to describe my mood upon discovering the damages. Emotions of wrath and vengeance were coursing through my blood, and all I could hear was my evil side cursing "I'm going to put that son of a bitch in a wheelchair!"

I managed to calm myself down over the course of the day, and by a gesture of kindness, by boss offered me the loan of his dent-puller, a large suction cup designed to pop out minor dents. I figured that I could give it a shot, and perhaps save myself the trouble of visiting an autobody repair shop. I spent a half-an hour trying to pull out the dents with the tool, but my efforts were proving fruitless. It was like trying to pop out a dent in a plastic pop bottle -- you only manage to move it around. This was going to cost me money.

So after work, I went to an autobody shop to get an estimate of the damages. The technician who gave me the estimate explained that the dents cannot be hammered out, and that I would be looking at buying a new hood for my car. Even with buying an after-market hood, I am looking at $650 to erase this senseless act of violence from my car. Ouch.

It seems that every year I am spending between three hundred and a thousand bucks on vehicle maintenance. This has got to stop. I am sick of people's disregard for other's valuables and/or property. I don't want to have to resort to sleeping in my car with a baseball bat to deter further damages. Perhaps I should consider buying an alarm for my car. I hear those things aren't effective anyway.

Just for once, I'd love to catch that knuckle-walking troglodyte in the act.