Cold Shower...

POSTPONED: Barbershop Convention Blues and Tina Fey-7 Weeks ain't enough, and yet it is.

Not figurative, but literal. We apparently neglected the gas bill, so they came and shut off the gas yesterday. Sonya's been sick, so she wasn't able to get to the door in time to hand the guy a check. So last night we had to grab some Little Caesar's and use the remaining hot water for a bath for Courtney. This left me to submerse myself in Arctic water this morning.

I haven't had a shower this miserable in 15 years. On drum corps tours, showers were like a box of chocolates - ya never know what yer gonna git. Usually, the schools have shut off the gas for the summer so they're ice cold. You get used to just praying for enough water pressure to actually rinse yourself off. Invigorating in late July, but in October - not so much. At this point in my life, I need a scalding shower just to loosen my joints in the morning.

Between the ice cold shower and frantic dash out the door to get the kids to school on time, and the fucktardedly basackwards traffic pattern the school parking lot creates, this is not starting off to be a good day.

To top it off, I'm greeted by my morning news radio announcers calling out the Financial Apocalypse. Great. Means my sales this week will be jack shit. I'm glad the debates last night didn't degrade into personal attacks and I commend both candidates for their restraint, but damnit. Someone needs to call out McCain for the Keating 5 Scandal and the S&L debaucle. This "deregulate then bailout" bullshit has to end. I'm used to being on the next-to-lowest rung of the financial ladder, but when that ladder's singing into quicksand and my shoes are getting wet, I get a bit pissed.

Oh, and that little "opinion meter" that CNN has of their focus group of Ohio undecideds - dat's da shizzle. Makes the debate MUCH more interesting.

The Sword of Damocles...

(Another unpublished draft from March of 2008.  Interesting to look back at how much has changed.)

Well, it's been a long time coming.

If you're a regular reader or a friend I've had occasion to vent to regarding my employment situation, you've likely heard me speak of my boss - the ancient owner of the store I work at who remembers when dirt was the newest thing. Well, it seems he's in the last throws of a myriad of ailments and is not expected to last much longer. It has always been assumed that when he goes, so goes the business, and that's just what, it seems, is being set up.

Without going into details that I haven't been thoroughly briefed on and have only heard 3rd party, it looks like I will likely be out of a job within the next 2-3 months. I've never had problems finding *A* job, but now with a wife, kids, mortgage, bills, etc., it's not gonna be easy to find something that'll fill this gap - especially in these times.

The last time I was hunting for a job, it was the end of the technology boom. The economy was riding high, the war hadn't started, the housing market hadn't gone into freefall, and America was still respected (anyone remember that far back?). That was about 5 years ago. Back then, all I had to do was walk into a place, fill out a one-page application, and I would have a job after 1 interview. Granted, I wasn't looking for high-paying, career-level positions, but I was young, friendly, enthusiastic, articulate, and intelligent. It used to be that I would never go for more than 2 weeks without a job. I'd have a reasonable savings built up, enjoy a week off, hunt the next week, and have a job by the end of that week. I NEVER worried abut being unemployed.

Now...I'm scared shitless.

I'm 33, no degree, experienced primarily in low-paying retail and service jobs, have a family to support, and the economy - especially in Michigan - is shot to Hell. What the hell do I do now? I don't have the money to finish my degree, a pile of bills mirroring Mt. Everest, and no real prospects for anything NEARING what I make here.

I have bitched about this job for years. There are a lot of things about this place I won't miss, to be sure, however there were several important and undeniable advantages to this job: VERY close to home, good pay, LOTS of downtime (followed by periods of sheer chaos), flexible hours (at least regarding leaving for emergencies), free repairs for my own instruments, and I've learned a TON about instrument repair, which will come in handy as a band director. I will NOT miss the incompetent management, absent-minded owner (though this method of his exiting is a bit more extreme that I would have wished on him), and the occasional megalomaniacal professional musician customer.

Still, I had fallen into a groove. I had become (relatively) comfortable here. I knew my job(s) and did them well. What now?

I can't take a job at another, similar store (if there IS such a thing) for anywhere NEAR what I was getting here, mostly because I have several job titles here. I could probably get a job as a repair tech at 1/2 the pay, but here I was also the shipping manager, web developer, graphic & ad designer, janitor - basically anything the rest of the folks here are too lazy, busy, or incompetent to do (usually the aforementioned asshat salesman's tasks).

To top it off, I had recently negotiated to get 2 weeks paid vacation from the owner. This happened about a month ago. He had refused to sign the paper I had written up outlining the agreement (80 hrs/yr., not to result in overtime, etc.), saying "my word is good enough!". Now it appears that the manager is planning not to give it to me. More hassling of the ailing boss and manager is clearly needed here.

On the bright side, I just conversed with my friend and former lead of my quartet, Brad, who is currently singing with the quartet at Henry Ford Greenfield Village. It seems that auditions are coming up. The pay's about what I get here and would be INFINITELY more fun than packing and servicing tubas. After getting a bit of info from him, I now have an audition set up for next Tuesday.

I don't expect much to come of it, really. I've heard the quartet (in a few different combinations), and while they're quite good, they seem to focus more on a pure choral sound than a traditional "barbershop" sound, turning it more into male quartet that sings barbershop songs than a "barbershop quartet" in the style I'm used to. This means there will likely be a hundred or so college-age vocal majors from all over, with ears and voices much better than my own, vying for the same 4 spots. Not great odds. I do have a few things they might not, however. Apparently they're in need of someone who can play the ukulele for a few of their tunes. How many college kids do you know that can play ukulele?! Who'da thunk my ukulele could help me get a job as a paid barbershopper?!

I'm hoping that between a shining recommendation from a current member (Brad), my more permanent proximity to the venue, my vast music and barbershopping experience, and the fact that I play ukulele, I might stand a snowball's chance at the gig. The schedule will probably be weird, but not wholly impossible.

Of course, if I DO get the job, technically, this may preclude me from competing with my own quartet. More than half of my income will be coming from singing, thus qualifying me as "professional" and not "amateur", as the rules stipulate. May have to do some research there.

So, in a matter of hours I have gone from towing-the-line usual life, to mild panic, to anger and frustration, to potential professional glee. God, I hate emotional roller coasters. Guess we'll just see how it all pans out.

Thank God I still have a couple months to quell the looming shitstorm this may stir up in my life.

Okay, that's all the whining for now.
Coming up Next, Coda Honor LIVE! and a chance to help a great cause.

End transmission...

And Now For Something Completely Different...

I could write a blog venting about all the shit that's hit the fan this week, but that's wholly depressing and boring to read, so instead, I'll give my opinion on the recent rule changes for the 2009 season recently proposed by DCI and my thoughts on the activity (in regards to DCI) as a whole.

Suffice it to say, I am not a fan of the direction DCI is taking drum & bugle corps. Here is the letter I wrote to DCI:

For what it's worth (very little, if the current direction of the activity is any indicator), I would like to state my wholehearted disapproval of the recent rule changes put into effect for the 2009 competitive season.

There is a fine line between innovating and re-inventing an activity, and DCI has been treading further and further past this line each year. I was a member of a DCI level Div II in the early 90's and saw the furor created by the addition of a 3rd valve. "Old School" corps veterans insisted that it changed the sound, made corps too easy, etc., and I tended to ignore them. I was simply pleased that we were now able to play more notes and have a fuller, richer texture to chords. Similar arguments were raised, I'm sure, with the the addition of the 2nd valve, rotors, and of course, the addition of the pit percussion.

Now, however, it seems as though DCI has been instituting rules to make drum corps more of an art form than an experience. Gone are the days of spine-tingling, bright, in-you-face shows, filled with pageantry and excitement.

The rule changes being approved by the Board of Directors over the past several years seem solely for the benefit of making the "artist's" visions become reality more easily by removing all possible obstacles including changing instrumentation to fit more standardized, mass-marketed equipment that the sponsors already produce. In other words, the recent rule changes seem geared solely to the designers and instrument manufacturers, not the participants or the fans.

I was opposed to the move to Bb horns. This was touted as a benefit to the smaller corps, as they would now be able to buy inexpensive, standard horns, rather than more expensive G bugles. Yet for the first several years, only open class corps were allowed to use them, thus setting a standard that required most smaller corps to go to the great expense and time to completely replace their existing horn lines in order to be taken seriously. This conveniently created a demand for the manufacturers to only produce their higher profit margin, mass-produced instruments already in production, rather than have to make a smaller profit on the more custom made G bugles.

I still resent the move to Bb bugles. It's a different (though yes, arguably more concert-like) sound than the activity has established, but it's not Drum & Bugle Corps. The addition of amplified voice, electronic synthesizers, and (as I see coming) woodwind instruments makes this an entirely different activity.

If DCI wishes to continue down this road to becoming a summer BOA program, by all means, create one, but I have had enough of DCI preaching that it is trying to preserve this great activity in the cloak of "evolution". DCI has stopped evolving and has gone to recreation at the expense of what was once a great and exciting activity to watch and perform.

I, for one, will be taking my ticket money to DCA from now on. A bit mired in the past, perhaps, but infinitely better than what has transpired in DCI. DCA may be slow to "evolve" at times, but they at least have a sense of what their supporters and fans want, as opposed to the corporate, self-involved, and pretentious interests guiding DCI's recent decisions. DCA is still DRUM & BUGLE CORPS.

If you want to mess with format and structure, create a new genre. Make a "Field Show" class. Maybe even combine a few contests to gain crossover fans. Grab the favorite brass quintet of your choice and take it on the road. It's proven successful and audiences will go to see it (including myself). But if you want to call it Drum & Bugle Corps, keep the standards and practices that make it so. It's not drum and synth and woodwind and guitar and voice corps - it's DRUM & BUGLE CORPS.

Call me a Spartacus wanna-be, but until DCI comes to it's senses, I will be boycotting all DCI events (along with most of my fellow disgruntled corps veterans) and spending my ticket, souvenir, and concession money at DCA shows.

Sincerely,
Paul D. Keiser
Northern Aurora Drum & Bugle Corps
Baritone 1990-1994

Even Keel, But Not Improving Yet...

(From January 25th 2008)

HEY! Been a while! How the hell ya been?...GREAT to hear!

Now, shut up. I'm trying to type...

Seems that, unlike the housing market, my situation has bottomed out for now. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but not exactly hunky-dory, either. It just means that the piles of shit waiting in queue for the fan are each taking their turn. This week it was an unprecedented hangover, Liam being suspended from school (again), and the power getting shut off for non-payment.

Sunday night I stayed up a bit too late, drinking whiskey. Lately I've been trying whiskey, with mixed results. (my God, was that a pun?) I'm not usually much for hard liquor. I'm more of a beer-an-hour kind of guy. Given the chaotic nature of my life lately and the propensity for Murphy's Law to profile me, the timing of my experimentation with the Devil Water may have something to do with self-medicating. Well, lesson learned. Woke up on Monday still a bit buzzed and feeling like a pile of roasted shit, which has NEVER happened to me, to my recollection. I don't often drink to excess and usually confine myself to mild cocktails or beer. I tried to compose myself for work, but an hour into my shift, I realized it was just too much. I went home, intending on an hour's nap, which somehow turned into 3 1/2 hours.

I'm an hourly employee at Ye Olde Tuba Store, so 3.5 hours means a big hit to the ol' paycheck I couldn't afford. My only solace was that on Wednesday, I'd be driving one of the company vans to Indiana to pick up a mess of tuba cases. 4 hours minimum on the road each way meant a bit more time on the card, so hopefully I'd recover most of it, but it meant I blew my only chance at overtime in the past 5 years or so.

Monday night we get a call from Leigh, who's pipes had apparently burst in the cold. She may need some help to get the situation under control, and at least need to borrow our shower. Being our best friend and owing her a MILLION times over for rescuing us on Christmas Eve, I stayed home from chorus rehearsal to be available to either run to the hardware store for parts, watch the kids, or whatever else may need to be done to help our dear friend. We ended up not being needed for anything that night and couldn't get a hold of her to find that out until late, as she was out getting parts with her much-handier-than-I brother. I was a bit irked at missing chorus, but she was in mid-crisis and had MUCH bigger things to worry about! I was just glad she was able to get things under control. Her water's turned off until the final repairs can be done, so she's been borrowing our shower for the past few days. Fine with us! Just gives us a chance to see her all the more! :)

Tuesday, I get a call from Liam's school asking me to pick him up. That's NEVER a good thing. As I have no car, they would have to wait for Sonya to get him, while I sat and stewed at work over his behavior as of late. Apparently, he threw another fit for something wholly unimportant like his place in line, lashed out a bit, and was suspended for the remainder of the week. A bit of an overreaction by the school, in my opinion, to what was apparently him defying the teacher's order to miss music class for disobeying her and then pushing a chair in anger, resulting in it falling down the risers of the music room.

I'm VERY unimpressed with the school's increasing tendency to simply remove Liam when he acts out, rather than try some sort of in-house discipline like an in-house suspension or recess detention. This suspension basically reinforces the idea that if he doesn't like something at school, if he acts out, he gets several days off. This time, however, his time at home was much less pleasant. He's grounded to his room for the duration with no TV or computer, and permission to leave only for bathroom breaks, getting ready for bed, and chores. You take away the kid's TV and computer privileges and it hits home a lot more. Sonya's been printing out extra worksheets and assignments for him to do in his more idle time, as well. This suspension is NOT just time-off, and he's duly disappointed with it. It does frustrate me, though, that I'm not available more to help enforce it.

Wednesday, I'm picked up by the salesman to hit the road for Goshen, Indiana. We were to pick up 32 tuba cases and 16 tabletop xylophone cases from the case maker, a bright-eyed, chipper old guy named Delmas. Thankfully, the salesman was in the other van, so the only time I had to relate to him was at the beginning of the trip and when we loaded up the vans in Indiana. The first half of the trip was pleasantly uneventful. I borrowed Liam's MP3 player for the trip (as mine was lost in the Christmas Eve car crash) with a full 1GB of choice classic rock, jazz, funk, neuvo-swing, and 80's tunes, and plugged it into my FM transmitter. 4 hours of me, my music, and the road - ahh, bliss.

We get to Goshen and start to load when I get a call from the home phone. This is odd, because Sonya usually calls me from her cell. On the line is Liam, calmly relaying to me that the power company had shut off the juice and mom was really upset and on her cell, screaming at the power company. Apparently, we had somehow neglected to pay them since July, which I find rather hard to believe. I talk to Sonya and let her vent about the absolute jerk of a tech who came to shut us off and the runaround she got on the phone from the power company. I talk to Liam and thank him for being so calm and cooperative during this crisis (in a family crisis he keeps his cool - he doesn't get to watch a movie at bed time and he flips - go figure), and then get to loading the van, worrying the whole time about my wife and kids in a cold house. As a father, you can't help but think you've failed your family in a situation like that - especially when you're 4 hours away and can't really do anything about it.

Salesman needs to head to Elkhart for something, so I head back home solo. I get a call from Sonya a bit later. Thankfully, when all was said and done, Detroit Edison put us on a budget plan, waived the shut-off and reconnect fees, and got us turned back on before Sonya got home from picking Courtney up from school. They arrived from school to the sweet music of the furnace, trying desperately to catch up with 4 hours of falling indoor temperatures. Whew! I arrive home after being stuck for 2 1/2 hours in snowy, rush hour traffic from Ann Arbor to home, drop the van at work, and walk home in the dark and snow.

The nice thing about things "bottoming out" is that it can only get better from here (I hope, knock wood). I've been taking a great deal of comfort in the fact that I know that my family and I will never hit rock bottom. We'll only be as uncomfortable as my pride makes us. I've received a lot of offers to help in various ways from family and friends lately. While many offers I've declined (or at least gently discouraged), the offers in themselves truly warmed my heart, once again proving my mantra, "With true friends, you will NEVER hit rock bottom". I have so many good friends ready and willing to help my family and me at the drop of a hat, and rest assured, I'd do the same for any of them (you).

A HUGE thanks go out to Rachael Levy, Leigh McLaughlin, Barb Bertolini, Diana Schnuth, and especially Sonya's and my parents and siblings for all the help you've offered over the past few weeks!

While I always encourage anyone and everyone to comment on my blogs, please refrain from specific advice on this one. No "You shoulda done this...", please. I just needed to vent a bit, and give some background to my previous, enigmatic blog.

Well, it's gettin' late. Gotta get home to be ready to be picked-up by my co-worker for another full day of working both jobs.

Coming up next: Paul Wins the LOTTERY!!!

(I figure if I put that in print, maybe my chances for it will improve)

Choral Ennui Leads to Flowing Creative Juices…

Monday was rehearsal for my barbershop chorus. I hadn’t attended rehearsals for about a month, with all of the insanity leading up the aforementioned “Worst… Christmas …EVER”, so I was glad to get back into the swing of the routine. We have a show coming up in late February, so I needed to get the songs back in my noggin and learn any choreography I may have missed. Lou picks me up and we walk in to warm smiles and ringing chords. Ahh, barbershop – my island of adequacy.

After some warm-ups, we’re handed our newest piece of music. We almost NEVER get things less than 3 months before a performance – let alone something as big as our annual show. The show this year is entitled “What’s Up, DOC” (DOC being the acronym for our Detroit-Oakland Chapter of the Barbershop Harmony Society), a clever moniker for a show themed around kid’s songs and cartoon and children’s TV theme songs. Our newest addition is an arrangement of the theme to “Might Mouse”, penned by one of our own chorus leaders.

The arrangement is absolutely wretched.

Don’t get me wrong; I like and respect this person. He’s a great guy and an adequate arranger. He does a few arrangements for his chapter quartet, consisting of himself and three other chapter leaders. His arrangements are quite functional, if a bit replete with barbershop clichés, stolen tags, and consisting of few chords more interesting than simple triads and the bare minimum of straight dominant 7ths. He’s done a few arrangements for the chorus before, that have been decent and easy enough to learn for the lowest common denominator in the chorus, but nothing particularly interesting or inspired.

This was at the lower end of his scale.

We start learning it, and I stroll over to Dave, my quartet’s bari, who has two (count ‘em – TWO) vocal music degrees, and before I can utter a word, he grins and rolls his eyes. As they are teaching the parts to the chorus, we’re in the back kibitzing virtually every aspect of the arrangement. This chord is wrong, that chord is improperly voiced, this phrase is over-simplified, that phrase has poor voice-leading, this phrase is just plain dull, majors chords where there should be minors or 7ths, the whole thing is pitched too low, etc. I know he was writing it to be simple and quick to learn, but SHEESH! We point out a few items as they're teaching it and he fixes the simplest of them one the fly.

We spend about 45 minutes learning it and by the end, most of the chorus has it pretty well down. A good thing, as we have only about 6 more rehearsals before the show and there are several tunes we still don’t have sounding very good. I’m sure they’ll all sound great by the end, but the pressure, nonetheless, is on. It should be a fun show, with most of the chorus in the costume of some kid’s show character (I’m Fred Flintstone, apparently) and the rest in black t-shirts with a cartoon character on it.

Later, I’m asked by one of our chapter leaders to give a vocal evaluation next week to one of our newer members. I appreciate being entrusted with this duty and feel somewhat respected as a musician to be asked to do this on occasion. This guy, however, is the weakest link in our chorus.

One thing you should understand about most barbershop choruses is that they’re like Little League teams – everyone plays, regardless of talent or ability. Ya got a kid who can’t catch worth a tinker’s damn? Stick him in right field. Got a guy who can’t sing very well? Stick him in the second to last row, surrounded by others on his part to shore him up and tell him to sing softly. That’s the usual M.O. for most barbershop choruses (sans the international finalist level, of course, who usually audition to even get on stage).

This guy, on the other hand, is impossible. Oh, he’s full of determination and desire to do well, but he just…can’t…get it! He stands like a statue with a somber look on his face and is basically a Johnny One-Note who can’t carry a tune in a bucket. For the past 6 months or so, whenever we have our vocal coach in, we spent a good half of the time trying to fix the basses and it’s almost always HIM that’s wrong. Eventually, our coach gives up, lectures them on learning their part, and just shrugs, not wanting to call him out and embarrass the poor, tone-deaf new guy.

I’ve dealt with people like this in marching band - kids with no sense of pitch or rhythm who can’t seem to grasp the concept “left foot, right foot”. Usually, after some personal coaching, they get it, but on rare occasion ya just gotta shrug and pray a judge doesn’t walk by them. Our chorus Big Wig tells me that this guy is having problems getting the higher notes – ON BASS PART! How do you fix that? In a show, it’s easy enough to just have him sing an octave lower (assuming he can hear the note in the first place), but on contest, a 5-part chord is an absolute no-no. I don’t like being the one who has to recommend giving someone the axe, but I anticipate having little to report that would recommend him. Likely, he’ll just be told he can’t sing in contest. More likely, he’ll be told just to stand on stage, do the choreography (which he doesn’t do any better than he sings) and just not sing. Still a no-no in contest, but harder to prove.

After chorus, I’m so frustrated that I open my laptop and start up the olde Finale ‘07 music software. The “Mighty Mouse” arrangement has me so wound up, that I HAVE to re-arrange it. At this point, I know we won’t use it in chorus, but I can’t just let that mediocre piece just stand, unchallenged. At first, I figure I’ll take what we were given and tweak it, but after looking at it I realize it’s better just to start from scratch. I play the original version from my collection of MP3s (I have a formidable collection of TV tunes) and get crackin’. After a couple of hours, I have something I’m happy with, save it, and hit the hay, figuring maybe I'll give it to my quartet after the show is over.

The next day, I open “Mighty Mouse” to listen and re-evaluate what I’ve done. I’m still pleased, but as I look at the folder with my Finale Files, I notice a tune or two I’ve started and never finished, so I dust them off and start working on them. Before I know it, I have one finished, a whole new one arranged, and another almost done. My addiction to arranging has re-emerged. Now I have a list of about 10 songs I want to start on for my quartet, and if the past 2 days are any indicator, I ought to have most of them done within a week.

Arranging (and marching drill designing) is like a puzzle addiction. Many people start puzzles like crosswords or Soduko and just can’t stop. Now, imagine designing your own puzzle on a scant template, solving it, and when you’re done, having not only the satisfaction of a job well done, but also a work of art. Better still; imagine that work of art being displayed in a gallery. That’s what it’s like to arrange a piece, then have it performed. Assuming your hypothetical “gallery piece” sells for money, that’s selling an arrangement – all for having fun with your bizarre obsession.

Now, I don’t have copyright for any of what I arrange and I’m pretty sure most of it isn’t public domain, so I can’t legally sell the arrangements – not without going through the time and expense of obtaining copyright or hefty legal repercussions, anyway. This means my quartet can’t perform them at paid gigs (technically speaking) and if another quartet wants to use them, I usually just charge them in free beer at social gatherings with the warning that they perform them at their own risk. Still, it’s a thrill to have them performed at all!

Anyway, it’s been giving me a great deal of personal satisfaction that, even if I’m not getting rich off it, I’m doing what I love and it’s (occasionally) being appreciated. Now if I could just get some commissions to arrange stuff that’s legal!

So how was YOUR Christmas, Paul? Part 2

Let’s see – where did we leave off?

Ah yes, Christmas Day.

Christmas Day started off – and remained – relatively normal. Exceedingly so, in fact, given the events of the previous night. About noon, Liam gingerly, but eagerly, enters our room and whispers with glee, “Santa came!!!”

At this point, Sonya and I have managed about 6 hours of relatively decent sleep (Sonya less so, with pain shooting through her chest and back with every toss and turn), so I throw on my robe and head to the living room. As I gather myself, Liam rouses his sister and they both rush to the tree. As usual, the presents from Santa are displayed prominently on top of everything else, unwrapped: glow-in-the-dark Speed Stax for Liam and Christmas Day Barbie for Courtney - just what they asked for. I revel in their faces for a few moments, then explain to them that they shouldn’t open anything else until mom is up and moving. Between the gifts from my family the previous night that were rescued from the car and Santa’s treasures, they have enough to keep busy while I run to the drug store and get Sonya’s prescriptions filled.

When I return with the best Christmas Gift I could have gotten Sonya – drugs – the kids tear into the pile. Usually, Sonya and I will spend a bit on each other and get a few things. With money so tight this year, we skimped on each other to make sure the kids got a good haul. Sonya and the kids did get me the newest volume of Family Guy, however. The kids tore into box after box, exclaiming with utter delight at each new item, be it fun like a toy or practical like new Spider-Man & Dora hats and gloves.

After a few hours, we head to Flint in our only remaining mode of transportation (Sonya’s Prism) for Christmas with her folks. Dinner was supposed to start at about 3, but given the events of the previous night, things were set back a couple of hours. We arrive about 4ish to find Sonya’s father’s cousins already there. Not wanting to waste their time, we hold gift opening off until after dinner, when they have left.

We have a lovely meal of roast beef, a myriad of side dishes, and the Ferris’s traditional Christmas Pudding, and have a wonderful time chatting and just relaxing. After the cousins leave, we open gifts. I got the big item on my “not-necessary-but-greatly-desired” list of a 160GB external hard drive, and spent much of the rest of the evening transferring media from my overstuffed laptop to my new toy while Sonya naps on the couch. We stay a bit later than usual and eventually head home, content that the whole world has NOT gone topsy-turvy and there is some stability left in our lives.

Thursday, I have a dental appointment. I have a mess of cavities and a laundry list of work to be done, but the major problem I need dealt with is a wisdom tooth that had decayed to a hollowed-out cavern. For some reason, Dr. Jay insists on dealing with another cavity first. So I spend a half-hour in the chair while he does his thing.

I must make this clear: I HATE DENTAL APPOINTMENTS! I’m a good patient and can keep my cool, regardless of the discomfort or downright pain I’m in. I’ve always had good dentists and it’s never as bad as I build it up to be, but between the prolonged shot of Novocain, the piercing sound of the drill, and having sensitive teeth to start with, I have to spend a good half hour in the car calming myself down before I even walk into the office. I sat in the chair, closed my eyes, and went to my inner “happy place” while he poked, prodded, and (shudder) drilled. This one was particularly deep, so he wants me to be aware of it, as it may still become infected and may need to be redone at some point. I make an appointment for 2 days later (Saturday, 8am) to get my wisdom teeth extracted.

Friday, I leave work a few hours early to try and get my car towed from the impound lot to a repair shop (at Sonya’s insistence) to see if it’s at all salvageable. This should be simple. Go in, pay the $212 in towing and various other fees (for a totaled car - what a racket), call AAA and have it towed to the shop that was recommended to me, right? WROOOOONG!

I was hoping to do this alone to avoid long discussions about every little detail about the car with Sonya and not have to wrangle antsy kids, but Sonya insisted on coming along and Liam wanted to see the car. After finding the rather hidden offices in a less-than-ideal part of Detroit, I walk in – cash in hand – to bail out my battered and beaten old friend. Of course, the car isn’t THERE, it’s at their OTHER lot, 5 miles away. Sonya’s mom joins us, we get clearance from the main office and head to the storage lot to unload anything of value that may remain in my mobile second home.

Once we see the car and survey the damage in the daylight, we find several things missing – most notably, my trombone. After a litany of profanity that would rival Lenny Bruce, we unload everything else and head back to the lot's office to complain about the missing instrument. Thankfully, after 20 minutes of the guy checking paperwork, he finds it safely tucked in the office. Still, I’m missing a huge box of AA batteries and my MP3 player (which didn’t work particularly well these days, anyway). At this point, I just don’t care. I just want the ordeal over with so I can get to work by 6.

We drive back to the main office. They say if we can get the tattered remains of my poor car off the lot today, they can drop some bullshit $40 listing fee, otherwise, it’ll be that, plus another $15 storage charge. We call AAA, tell them they’ll need all the bullshit insurance and licensing paperwork required to even ENTER their precious lot, and they say a truck will be out in 45 minutes – 15 minutes before they close at 6pm. Just in time, but still making me late for work, so I call to alert my employer to my delay.

I send Sonya with the kids to her mother’s house in Detroit, just a few miles away, rather than have her and the kids stay, restless and bored out of the gords. I sit at the towing office and wait…and wait…and wait. It’s now 5:55pm and the staff is packing up. I call Sonya. She says AAA just called her to say it’ll be another half hour before a truck can get there, missing my window, costing me an extra $55 in fees, the time I missed from work at both jobs, and the past 4 hours of my life. Thankfully, one of the gals at the office (Maxine, bless her heart) opted to stay a bit late to help me out.

The tow truck shows up about 6:40, we get the paperwork all set, and tow my battered “Fortress of Solitude” to the repair shop in Melvindale. By the time it’s all done, it’s 8:30. I call work, who says just to stay home tonight and be ready to work my sales magic the next day.

"No problem," I think, "I'm just having two wisdom teeth extracted at 8am!"

Coming up next: Part 3 - Oral Surgury, Fear of the Dry Socket, More Christmas, Anti-Santas, and a bleak Automotive Prognosis.

Goodye MySpace Blogs...

A friend of mine posted a bulletin with a link to a blog that made some sense to me.

Granted, I don't have a large audience. My blogs are mostly intended for my own edifiaction and/or to keep those I care about informed on what's going on with me. I have maybe 40 subscribers and get maybe 150 hits a week. Pretty insignificant compared the Tila Tequilas and Dane Cooks of MYSpaceland. Several people have commented, however, that my writing skills could get me somewhere and may even earn me some money, given the proper subject matter and direction.

The aforementioned blog was entiled "If You Blog on MySpace, You Really Are An Idiot". While the initial title set me a bit sour from the start, as I read, the guy began to make some sense.

I was immediately disarmed by meeting the qualifications he excluded from his definition of 'idiocy'. That is to say, I blog for myself and my friends mostly, I don't go bragging about hits and subscribers (as I said, there isn't much to brag about), and I tend to avoid the drama inherent in such bragging by not attracting or dolling out ridicule and harassment via comments. Pretty much all the comments on my blogs, to and from me, have been helpful, supportive, whimsical, or at least cordial.

As I read, he brought to point several facts that I hadn't really considered. Foremost of these being who profits from my blatherings. MySpace is owned by Fox Media. You see the ads flashing away at the top of the screen? Yea, the ones that encourage you to swat the flies, smash the car, or free the cartoon hottie from the ice block? Well, for every jackass that clicks one of those (of which I highly doubt ANY of you loyal readers can be counted), Fox Media gets money. These ads are directed at teeny-boppers whose few active brain cells are occupied with which Bratz character they want to dress like or how to appear more 'Emo' to the opposite sex. Nothing pertaining to the content of the blog, of course - at least not mine.

Now aside from not wanting to help out Fox Media in any way I can comfortably avoid, I figure there are a few other points to consider. I have no objection to online ads, when they're not in the way of the content I'm looking for or, God forbid, opening a pop-up window. But first and foremost, why shouldn't *I* get the ad revenue from the hits my writing may generate (miniscule, though it may be). I'm not keen on the idea of my brainfruit being utilized to fund a right-wing bohemoth like Fox, and I need the money more than the suits attempting to run public opinion (but that's another tirade altogether).

Second, if I'm talking about a barbershop convention or a sci-fi show, shouldn't the ads pertain to that, instead of some singles site or survey scam (though I suppose if you're reading about barbershop conventions, they're justified in thinking you're still single)? Ads on my blog should have at least SOMETHING to do with what I'm talking about.

So here it is. Quite likely my LAST MySpace blog entry. I have moved on to a more civilized blog venue. More under MY control, with the features *I* want on it and - best of all - with any potential ad revenue going to ME! Well, okay, split between me and Google. but I'd rather split it with them than give all of it to Fox.

Over the next few days (or weeks, depending on how crazy it is at work) I'll be moving my old posts to pauldkeiser.blogspot.com. From there, I'll post my subsequent ponderings and goings on there. Drop by sometime, and don't be shy about clicking on links and telling friends! After all, I'm perpetually broke and even at a few cents per hundreds of clicks on the rather unabtrusive ads, sometime in 2009 I may get a check with enough to buy me a value meal as I rush between jobs and gigs.

Feel free to comment in this one. It's not like I'm abandoning MySpace completely...

I'm every bit as pathetically addicted to it as you folks likely are...

My Wife, the HEROINE!

Okay, ya know all that crap I had happen with the bank a few weeks ago, where they charged me $280 in fees over the course of a weekend? Well, crisis averted, thanks to the phoenomenal negotiating skills of...

(trumpet fanfare)

SUPER WIFE!!!

After two failed attempts by both of us to get the situation dealt with on the branch level, Sonya called up the Vice President of Customer Relations (or some such title) and got her to refund EVERY PENNY OF IT! We may yet have a Christmas!

God, I love this woman!

Insanity is just a stubbed toe away…

This week has been one of the most mentally stressful I can remember. It seems that everything has been piling up and crashing down at all at once. Nothing that has turned me into an emotional wreck, mind you. No major tragedies or things that have made me profoundly sad, just a pile of logistical nightmares that I've had to juggle that have had me on the brink of "postal".

First and foremost stresser – finances:

This always has me stressed when I think about it too much, but this week in particular. I use my debit card for everything. I almost NEVER carry cash anymore. I knew my account was getting a bit low, but I figured there was no need to panic until my card came back "declined" somewhere. I asked Sonya to stop by my work and pick up my check and deposit it for me on Friday, as I was heading to Monroe for the day and wouldn't be available. She didn't have time. Meanwhile, I used my card for necessities like lunch and gas, with no problems and no hint anything was wrong.

It seems, despite having turned this feature off SEVERAL times over the years, my bank has been extending me a "courtesy". My bank decided to spare me the "embarrassment" of having my card declined, so they continued to pay my charges – to the tune of a $5 per transfer from my saving when the checking went to zero and $21 service fee per transaction when the savings was exhausted. Yea. Thanks SO much for saving me the embarrassment and just CHARGING ME $280 OVER 3 DAYS WHILE THE BANK WAS CLOSED!!!

I go to the bank on Saturday to deposit my miniscule Blockbuster check (since my REAL paycheck from Custom Music was sitting locked up at the store for the weekend) and notice the big, fat minus after my balance even AFTER the deposit. I freak out a bit but figure we can survive the weekend and fix it Monday. Now, I'm all for honoring our veterans, but Bank Holidays fucking piss me off. Why is it the REST of the world keeps working and moving, but banks and federal services get the fucking day off!!!??? So, we have to survive on nothing till Tuesday.

Next stresser – work:

The reason I was in Monroe on Friday was to try my hand at a new job. My supervisor at Custom Music (the one I actually LIKE), Kevin, is starting a distributorship for a new line of band instruments. Good, quality stuff at reasonable prices, but he needs salesmen who can actually SELL to the retailers. I went down to his offices to make some cold calls and see if I couldn't set up a few meetings with some retailers in Ohio and get a few orders. I did pretty damned well, too. Set up 5 meetings my first day and planned 2 road trips to show samples. I was looking forward to this job perhaps slowly replacing my income at Custom Music. Not in any short timeframe, mind you, and I had no plans to just up and leave a steady income for the touch-and-go nature of commission. There was the opportunity for some extra Holiday cash though, selling at least the samples to the stores I visited while they test them out.

I get to work on Monday and the dipshit troll of an owner, Fred, comes in all fire and brimstone, yelling things about company loyalty and how Kevin is selling me nothing but empty promises. Never mind that Kevin isn't selling ANYTHING in direct competition to Fred, but Fred doesn't want me working for him. He gives me an ultimatum that if I work for Kevin, I don't work for Custom Music, giving up the primary source on income for my family.

I wanted to pummel the man with a tuba mouthpiece right then and there. I finally am given an opportunity to use my skills (sales) in a medium I know and understand (band instruments), and this megalomaniacal motherfucker tells me I can't. I can't just quit and go to the sales job because sales don't show big money until you build a client base. With bills piled high as the Great Wall and Christmas looming, that's way too many eggs in one basket.

ANOTHER stresser – family:

My mother has been struggling with her weight for years and is by all possible definitions, morbidly obese. She had a bout with congestive heart failure several years ago, but seemed to learn a lesson from it and was on the mend. She was losing weight for a time (or at least not GAINING weight), and was regaining some mobility.

Recently, however, she has been on a steady downward spiral of inactivity and overeating. She's gotten good at hiding it, but my sister is a bloodhound about it and busted her. Apparently, she called a neighbor to ask her to pick some of her diabetic supplies up from the drug store while my grandfather was in rehab, recovering from surgery. She then asked said neighbor to pick up 3 bags of Halloween candy, under the auspices that her grandchildren were coming over and she wanted to give them something for a belated Trick-or-Treat.

She only got one giant bag of candy, but ate the WHOLE BAG in one night. She also managed to eat about 6 servings of vegetable beef soup – also in one night.

Last night My sister and I staged an intervention, explaining to her exactly how all of this makes us feel and how it affects the rest of the family. I read her the riot act about using MY KIDS in a LIE to a well-intentioned neighbor, so she can defy her doctor, father, and all common sense and gorge herself on candy. I was absolutely livid. Promises were made, but more importantly, action plans were implemented where my sister and I can keep on her. Here's hoping.

The DE-stresser - quartet:

Originally, I had accidentally booked one of my road trips for the new sales job on the day of a quartet gig (serves me right for not using my planner). This had me a bit panicked at first, but then I got an e-mail from our bass that he couldn't make the gig anyway. Okay, so I have to cancel the gig, but at least I didn't have to call my clients to reschedule. I call the gal we booked with and she manages to reschedule the gig for a mutually workable time. Cool! We still get the gig an subsequent money!

Then I get forwarded an email for another gig…then another…then a phone call for another. In the span of four hours we went from having to cancel our only gig to suddenly having FOUR! At $65 a pop for each of us, suddenly the extra Christmas money was seeming a bit easier to come by.

Things continue to pile up, but some of the pieces are beginning to fall into place. I'm off to the bank to yell at them and get those service fees refunded and the "courtesy" feature disabled on our cards. I'll continue to play Tetris with the pieces of my life and attempt to stack all these pieces of my crazy life neatly, so, hopefully, I won't get overwhelmed by it all and can enjoy the Holidays this year.

Yea…and Fred Phelps might join the cast of Rent…

Coming up next: The Halloween Blog – FINALLY!

Random life updates for you voyeuristic types…

I almost never do a general life update kind of blog with snippets of info on my boring-assed life (to borrow from Kevin Smith), so here's a series of bits and pieces of what's up with me lately…

Work:
The music store is…well…same as always. I go in, do a handful of things the others there are either too busy, lazy, or incompetent to do, I leave. It's been kind of slow lately, but unfortunately, I still can't take the copious down time to do the projects I would like, such as blogging, composing, arranging, organizing my hard drive, recording learning tracks, etc. The salesman (who likes to think himself a general manager) is constantly hovering over my shoulder and coming by with inane tasks for me to accomplish. Tasks he could do in 2 seconds if he had any desire to learn ANYTHING about the computer he's been using for 4 years. I swear, I don't know how he ties his shoes by himself in the morning some days. He's the type that likes to make sure the boss is getting his money's worth out of me by inventing chores and keeping me busy whenever he sees me remotely idle.

He has little power or self-confidence in any arena of his life, so he likes to throw what little weight he has around to feel important somewhere. Imagine Bill Lumbergh and a whiney, stuttering 2-year-old, combined. That's him. He's a spineless, indecisive wimp, but nonetheless, he's my superior. Thus, I have to constantly look busy and can't start on any personal project I can't quit immediately or close down before he sees it on my screen, and God forbid bring my own laptop to the office.

I know, I shouldn't complain about doing actual WORK at work, but it's the way he goes about it. I don't mind doing what needs to be done. Servicing horns, making ads, editing the website - hell, even cleaning up and sweeping – are tasks I don't mind doing. It's the redundant and pointless tasks he invents for the sheer sake of keeping me busy that drive me nuts. He spends more time double checking my work and that of others, inventing things for us to do, and walking to my desk and explaining what he wants done than it would take him to do himself if he bothered to use half a brain cell. If he spent HALF as much time actually dealing with matters that are his responsibility and making and implementing actual decisions as he does playing Big Brother, the place would be twice as productive – and a lot more pleasant to work in.

Blockbuster is getting a bit frustrating, but is still a great job. We've been going through a big push for sales of the Rewards membership. Sales are where I shine. I have one of the highest individual sales rates on any given promotion of any employee in the region.

Unfortunately, for this promotion, I have to be behind the register to do it. This, along with a cut in hours passed down from on high, means that I'm off the sales floor and not doing my "Entertainment Specialist" gig. I'm back to being a register jockey.

It wasn't so bad, at first. Being the key salesman, it means I don't have to do the mundane chores like restocking, shelving movies, processing transfers and such. They need me on the drawer to keep up the quota. After a while, though, repeating the same lines over…and over…AND OVER…get maddeningly boring.

I'm fast and efficient on the register and still get to converse with customers and enjoy my coworkers, but I'd much rather be on the floor helping customers out on a more personal level. I enjoy having the time to suggest titles, and make people smile, feel appreciated, and comfortable, which is difficult to do in a few seconds between ringing up people on the register. Not to mention, I LOVE having that P.A. system mic, doing my Blockbuster DJ thing and playing my ukulele from time to time. I don't have a single shift go by without a handful of customers asking me where my uke is.

Eh, it's only temporary. The Holiday season will be here before I know it and my position as "Entertainment Specialist" will be back again, hocking gift cards, suggesting promotions, asking trivia and cracking jokes.

Quartet:
Contest is coming up fast and we're rehearsing as often as we can. We had Dave Ellis come back and coach us last week. We had intended on having him work with us on "Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans" for the entire time, figuring that as we hadn't worked on our timing and interp much on "I'll Be Seeing You", it would likely waste his time while we worked on that.

After about an hour on "Do You Know…", Lou starts whining about wanting to sing "I'll Be seeing You" for Dave. Lou had brought the song to the table in the first place and he has a special attachment to it. We roll our eyes and relent, figuring we'd sing through it and get a tip or two, then go back to the other song.

We spent the next 2 hours on it.

The ironic part is, it was WORTH IT! Dave Ellis had us singing that song so much better, it became our preferred ballad for the contest, instead of our second choice, as we had expected. So, the tactic was annoying, but the result was positive. We'll be previewing our contest package for our chorus next Monday and get some feedback before we compete.

I have been in contact with the arranger/composer/bass of The Blanks (the quartet from the TV show Scrubs) for a while, attempting to get a few of his arrangements – most notably the theme to "Underdog" – for my quartet. A pleasant guy, but either incredibly busy or a bit of a procrastinator, it took the better part of a year to get something from him. He had planned on publishing his arrangements, but hadn't gotten to it yet. He finally put "Underdog" on MIDI and graciously sent it to me along with his blessing to use it. Thankfully, Finale can extract the parts.

I had attempted to transcribe it myself from their CD recording of it, and had a decent reduction, but I apparently didn't give him enough credit for creativity. Now that I had all the right notes, all I had to do was some re-voicing of the arrangement to get Lou out of the stratosphere. That's just a matter of switching the melody line to tenor a time or two. I input the lyrics, PDF it, and send it to the guys. Our hope is to have it decent by convention to do at hospitality rooms after contest. Otherwise, we'll be doing it on our annual chapter show this February, which has a cartoon/kiddie show theme. Can't wait to have this one in our repertoire!

Family:
Liam is doing MUCH better at school this year. He has a new teacher, who has a very firm set of rules and a great disciplinary system based on a reward of free time (AKA "Fun Friday") that they lose time from if they step out of line during the week. It's a great balance of reward and punishment – a kind of simultaneous positive and negative reinforcement – that he's responding VERY well to. 2^nd grade is suiting him quite well. He's been better at home, as well, with fewer meltdowns and whininess. That, along with his whirlwind progress through the Wolf Scout Handbook, has given him a great sense of self-confidence and accomplishment. I'm immensely proud of him.

Courtney is doing well in pre-school. She goes 4 days a week for about 2 ½ hours per day. She's enjoying socializing with other kids her age, which she doesn't get a lot of opportunity to do, and doing art projects in class. We need to plan some play dates for her, when our schedule permits.

I tend not to blog about Sonya much, as I'm rarely sure what info about her goings on she doesn't want passed along.She can be very picky and private about her personal life, so I'll leave that to her to blog about, if she chooses. Suffice it to say, she's always busy helping out friends and family as much as she can, as well as trying to keep up with our two bundles of energy. It's not easy in such a small house, trying to keep track of all of her projects, keep up with the kids, and find time to just sit and think her own thoughts. I admire her fortitude.

It's a tough balancing act for me, fulfilling my work and obligations to others, trying to be home enough to let her do her thing and not worry so much about the kids or chores, and not crowding her and being in her way. We need a bigger place.

In the meantime, I try and afford her all the time I can spare to let her do her things. I hope to be able to do more come November. Quartet gigs will slow down, rehearsals a bit less of a priority, fewer distractions, and more time at home. Some better time-managing habits will help that a lot.

Summation:
Crazy busy, professionally frustrated, and financially stressed.

Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was.

So Much to Blog, So Little Time – Part I: Professional Frustration

This weekend has been so mind-numbingly busy, that I have chosen to take one of my morning constitutionals to the coffee shop to play MySpace catch-up. I woke up at 7am, took a quick shower, and got here ASAP to read up on all of the blogs I have missed over the past week or so. In doing so, I have been reminded of the thousand-and-one things I have wanted to blog about over the past week or two, an likely STILL won't have time to write about. After spending 2 hours reading blogs and writing a few comments, here it is, 9:15am. With 45 minutes to get to work, I'll probably barely scratch the surface of what I want to write about, so this will probably be a multi-part blog written over several days.

Okay, professional frustration. There are a bunch of levels on this subject that have been digging under my skin like rabid, mutant ticks lately. At the risk of another whiney blog, latent with complaints and "woe is me" stories, I shall vent thusly:

First and foremost, for the first time in about 14 years, I find myself WITHOUT a marching band job for the fall. The band I have worked with for the past 3 ½ years, like all too many others, hit the budgetary chopping block, and I was the appendage to be severed. Every other staff member has been retained, but I was let go. At first, I disappointedly let it roll off my back, citing facts to myself like, "I was the only staff member that WASN'T a caption head", "the other wind instructor is a T.A. paid by the district payroll and not the band budget", "this is happening all over, I'm not the only one", etc..

Then it started to get to me. I was the only one there capable of running an effective sectional or rehearsal with ANY of the sections without just saying, "play through this number…okay again…okay again…(ad nauseum)". Was there some other reason? I had heard there were some rumblings of dissatisfaction with something I had said or done last year. I got this third party from my advisor at Wayne State when she tried to place me at this school for my practicum and student teaching. I got nothing solid or ANY details (which is the frustrating standard for WSU – particularly the music department), but there was some reason I couldn't be placed there that was political. Beyond that, I was never contacted by the director this year, despite the fact that she had said she'd drop me a line with the season details and schedule in May. I had to contact her.

My biggest pet peeve is when someone has a problem with me, but won't confront me with it and just either lets it stew and fester, or worse, takes it out on me surreptitiously. I'm a reasonable guy and usually very open to constructive criticism. If you have a problem with me or something I did, tell me. I'll do my best (especially in an employment or educational situation) to repair the damage or change my behavior in the future. I'm there to get better at what I do, and adjusting to others' teaching or operating style is part of the job. As good as I think I am at reading people, I misjudge from time to time. All I need is a friendly hint of what to do different next time and, after blushing with a bit of embarrassment, I'll make the necessary adjustments. I'm not prone to blowing up at people (unless the aforementioned festering or surreptitious back-stabbing occurs). The same applies to friendships.

So here I am, the only bit of professional gratification I get for the year (in my chosen field) taken from me, no prospects for other bands, and pretty much every other band fully staffed or under-funded to the point of not being able to pay me what I am worth or would even financially justify the time and gas to do it.

Gives new meaning to "Trickle-down Economics".

If any of you know of a band that needs an instructor – winds, visual, or general purpose – PLEASE let me know! It leads to a crazy busy fall for me, but it's the only chance I get to remind me why I got into Music Education in the first place. The best part of being a lowly band tech is that I get all of the benefits (sans monetary) of the job with none of the hassles. I get to teach students, impart my wisdom, and utilize teaching and performance techniques I have gathered over the years to improve and guide young musicians, but never have to deal with budgets, lesson plans, administration, or (at least so I thought) the political bullshit entwined with the position of band director. The director tells me what needs to be accomplished, and I use my knowledge and experience to get results – and I DO get results.

Things are tough all over, but it never occurred to me that they would end up hitting my fall marching band gig. I suppose I should have gotten suspicious when, for the first year ever, I wasn't contacted about ANY other gigs or camps.

God, I hope this is just about budgets and not about my reputation as an instructor.

Further frustration involves my job at Custom Music. With the boss screaming for a pointless and often discarded inventory, he has decreed that I not bring my computer to work (hence my backlog of blog material and other computer related communication). This is to ensure that I am working on the inventory every possible minute. More likely, it's to quell the complaints from one of the salesmen who loves to hover over everyone's shoulder and check, double check, undo, and redo everyone's work. He then proceeds to complain that he doesn't have time to do his own various duties.

The thing I hate about this inventory bullshit, aside from the fact that it is never used for anything other than to give the owner a sense of gratification to see a nice fat stack of paper itemizing what he has acquired, is the time it takes. When we first did the full inventory 3 years ago, it took 3 of us a full 2 weeks of doing nothing but inventory. Now, it's just me doing it in between customer repairs, servicing horns for conventions, designing ads, making web page updates, shipping, receiving and whatever other pointless, redundant, or otherwise useless tasks they interrupt me with. The boss doesn't get that, no matter how many times I relay that information to him, and asks me at least 5 times a day if I'm done yet. I try to chalk it up to the fact that he's 90+ years old, sick, and feeble-minded, but it doesn't make it any less infuriating. Couple that with the brain-dead salesman who can barely tie his own shoes or wipe his own ass, interrupting me to help him with the simplest and most menial of tasks, and I'm ready to tear my hair out. This guy is a combination of Bill Lumberg from Office Space and a whiny, demanding 2-year-old in every irritating way.

Thankfully, Blockbuster is still Blockbuster, and my one (though ill-paying) professional island of adequacy. I'm appreciated and liked by my boss, coworkers, and customers alike, and usually look forward to my shifts. The district manager has yet to follow through with utilizing me for training purposed or reward me with anything but a grateful slap on the back (that and a buck fifty will get me a cup of coffee), but the day-to-day there is still pretty nice.

This ends my professional opining…for now

Coming up next: So Much to Blog, So Little Time – Part II: Recreational Frustration

The Remainder of My Week of Hell: Things Can Only Get Better

The other big frustration I had to deal with last week was the overwhelming sense of withdraw I went through as my new laptop was temporarily de-commissioned.

I am a creature of habit. I have certain things I need on me al all times (or at least access to). I like things to be in the same place twice (preferably regularly) and like things stacked in neat little piles where I can find them. I'm not anal-retentive, OCD, or maniacal about order, but I like to be able to accomplish my tasks quickly and efficiently.

As said creature of habit, I always need the following things on me at all times or I feel absolutely naked:

• My Cell Phone (I get calls for quartet gigs, need to be available to handle emergencies with the kids, coordinate the schedule of my insane life, and able to be told what to pick up from the store on the way in from work)
• My Wallet (Gotta have the cash or cards to PAY for the aforementioned stuff from the store, not to mention be legal to drive to and from it)
• My Keys
• My Watch
• My pocket multi-tool and/or pocket knife
• And now my newest mandatory accoutrement – My Laptop.

If I am without any of these, I am at loose ends and feel as vulnerable as a squirrel thrown into a shark tank.

Lately, the laptop has become more and more an integral part of my daily life. I connect with friends via e-mail and IM constantly, as I have little to no time to meet with anyone socially. I work on pet projects in my scant spare moments, such as music arrangements, blogs, and music, photo and video editing. My laptop has become the only way I can get any of my favorite things done, as scheduling time to sit and do them for long stretches at a desktop pc are ridiculously rare. Not to mention…my laptop is new and fairly speedy (well, NOW it is, anyway).

My only complaint about my laptop had been that is was preinstalled with Fucking Windows Vista. That is how I refer to it always, now: "Fucking Windows Vista". If you have any option, NEVER get Fucking Windows Vista. While it isn't particularly hard to learn or much different that XP in many ways – it even looks a bit cooler – it drives like a Sherman tank. I had half a gig of RAM in my computer and it took nearly 4 minutes to completely boot up. Applications ran slower than snail shit. Worst of all, most of the programs I had become accustomed to simply would not work with it at all.

While I was able to get the OS working a bit faster by buying another gig of RAM (to the tune of about $75), it still wouldn't run most of my handier programs and was extremely buggy with most new peripherals I purchased, if it worked at all.

A while back, a friend of mine mentioned that a friend of his was able to play with Mac OS X and, through some Linux magic, get it to work on certain PCs. This, I figured, would solve all of my problems. I managed to get a hold of one of these "Holy Grail of PCdom" discs, bought a bigger hard drive (just for the hell of it) and attempted to install it on my laptop. Sadly, but not wholly unexpectedly, it didn't quite work. Some driver for the monitor or something else it didn't like. Well, waddya expect for a Frankenstein attempt to stitch together 2 different systems and a computer made up of HP's leftovers.

"Oh well," I figured, "Guess I just throw XP on this new big drive and go to town with that. It won't be Mac OS X, but it'll be a damned sight better than Fucking Vista."

So I format the drive with the Mac program to the proper NTSC format and pop in an old XP disc from one of the defunct and butchered computers here at work.

Funny thing about Windows: anything that should be nice and simple, rarely is.

It wouldn't recognize the hard drive – at all. I figured maybe I had goofed it up by trying the Mac OS thing, and being it was an "open box" purchase, I returned it to the store and paid the extra $15 for a new one. Popped it in…nothin'. Windows STILL didn't recognize even a fresh new drive.

Finally, in utter frustration, I returned the new drive for a refund, backed up all of my files and programs from my old, smaller drive and formatted it, figuring it MUST be able to recognize the drive it CAME with. Popped the XP disc in…nothin'.

Most people don't consider me particularly mechanically inclined. I disagree. I can fix most anything mechanical or hardware related on most things. I can put most things together without directions, and even do so with no "extra" parts leftover. I know when I'm licked and when to get out the directions and ask for help, usually before I destroy something. I have a very analytical mind with great spatial perception. However, when you start talking formulas, math, and especially software configuration – I either study and research or go to the pros.

I started Googling like mad to try and figure out why the HELL Windows wouldn't recognize my drive. Everything I read said you just pop in the disc, it formats the drive and ya go. I finally got to the point where I Googled the make and model of the drive. "A-HA! Windows doesn't like SATA/SCSI drives!"

I then found several pages detailing how to manually put the driver on FOR Windows.

I went through step by step until I got to the last one: "put the files on a floppy disc and insert it into your floppy drive when prompted"

Floppy drive? FLOPPY DRIVE!!?? Who the HELL uses a floppy drive anymore!!!!???? I have a laptop!

"Okay. My work computer has the same kind of drive. I switch the hard drives, popped the XP disc in and…where's the floppy drive? Fuck!"

"Okay no problem. There are about 4 or 5 floppy drives in defunct computers around the office. Here's one! I'll just connect… Fuck! Not a SCSI drive. Wait…NONE of these are SCSI drives!"

"Okay...deep breath…Nooo need to panic. I'll just re-install Fucking Vista with…FUUUUCK! They don't provide install discs anymore!"

So, I take it to the nearest Computer Builder's Warehouse, hand them the XP disc and hard drive driver files on my jump drive and explain the problem.

"We can install it for $65, but you'll need a license. That's $125, extra"

Leave it to Microsoft…$190 to DOWNGRADE their software.

At this point, I'm ready to either clear a spot on my wall and hunt down Bill Gates for a trophy, or pull an 'Office Space', and drive the laptop to an empty field to pummel it with a baseball bat. This was rock bottom. It could only get better from here.

Deep breath…regroup…rethink.

I go back to work and peel the license for XP off the scavenged shell of the old computer, stick it neatly on my laptop just underneath the Fucking Vista license, and head back the next day.

I walk up, plop the computer and all the necessary accessories on the counter with a THUMP.

"There. Laptop, power cord, license, drivers. Drop the install to $55"

"Done. See you in 3 days"

Three days later, I walk in the store. This, of course, after 3 calls to them that day sounding like a kid in the back seat prodding, "Are we there yet?" He opens the computer and I hear the familiar chime of XP, like a chorus of angels taking flight…

…Ah…No more Fucking Vista!

After a week and a half, 4 trips to MicroCenter, 4 trips to Computer Builder's Warehouse, several hours spent Googling for solutions, and dozens of hours spent ripping open and arguing aloud with my computer, I'm finally HOME.

Then it occurred to me. I'm thrilled to have Windows XP? I'm actually THRILLED to go back to a clunky and unreliable OS that's 5 years old?! Leave it to Fucking Windows to find a way to make you BLISSFULLY GRATEFUL for XP!

Damn you, Bill Gates! DAAAAMN YOUUUUU!

The next 3 days were spent installing all of my favorite (or at least, most used) programs: Trillian, Firefox, Finale, MSOffice, Media Player 11, MySpace IM, Cool Edit Pro, my new PCTV toy, and a few games – ya know – for the kids.

So now, here I sit. The sun's warm orange glow is casting longer shadows into a beautiful cool evening, and I'm sitting comfortably at my patio set in the backyard, watching the kids play in the 10' inflatable pool, as I type – happily blogging again.

Life has gotten much better. I love my laptop again. :)