Pointless · Snide · Remarks

 Friends only. Leave a comment to be considered for my circle of elitism.

In other, happier news, I have this idea for a movie about an American musician dodging the draft during the Vietnam War and shacking up with an asexual Canadian poet. And I can see every scene. And I really want to write the script, buy a cheap HD camera, make some shorts for a portfolio, and apply for funding as an international director through the National Film Board of Canada so I can film on location and pay licensing fees for a few Leonard Cohen songs. I'm not saying I want to do all that next month, but it sure would be nice to accomplish before I'm thirty, just to say I've done it, to get that story out of me and where other people can see it.

I'm going to work on this.

Today and this past weekend, I discovered it's pointless to do nice things for people who I already know will not display gratitude. I should have stayed in bed since Friday morning.

I woke up at 3:30 this morning with crippling cramps and diarrhea. The nurse practitioner at the cheap walk-in clinic said it's probably mild IBS, and prescribed an anti-spasmodic. The anti-spasmodic costs $22 in generic form, so I didn't buy it. Instead I'm going to cut out most of the greasy shit I eat (the attack was mostly caused by the fish and chips we had for dinner last night; Aaron woke up with cramps too) and try, try, try to reduce my stress. 

In some ways this will be easy--as of yesterday I have a new venture to pursue, which has already caused a massive shift in my mood. In other ways, it won't be easy at all, at least until I'm pulling in enough photography money (wedding season 2010, I hope) to no longer have to work a regular job. I summed it up to Aaron last night: "I'm going to quit my job, dye my hair, and let you knock me up." 

I'm still on probation at work, which is why I dropped $40 at the clinic today so I could get a doctor's note excusing my absence. I picked up an application for another daycare this evening, which has posted on Craigslist advertising an 8 to 5 opening. As I drove up to the place, I saw that the marquee out front said "Education is the transmission of civilization." Not only is that the most wonderful thing I've ever seen associated with a childcare facility, but all the words were spelled correctly. I wanted to hug the woman who gave me my application and tell her how much it meant to me that the forms were not typed in Comic Sans. They really seem to have their shit together, and I really want that job so I can actually work for professionals for however long until I can stop working for anyone at all. 

Life is looking up. I'm going to prove myself. I took about 650 photos today. It felt amazing. 

Got the camera.

Now the work begins. 

Another girl drummer e-mailed me. We got together and jammed. it was mostly unremarkable; she's a very straightforward player, and had some trouble keeping up when I played a more bluesy rhythm with some swing to it. But more discouraging than that was the fact that I felt fairly awkward around her the whole time. We spent more time talking than playing, which is good because I didn't really have any riffs for us to work with, but from that I discerned that she's not a person I want to spend a lot of time around. And that makes me wonder why the hell I'm trying so desperately to find a girl drummer, when I know that I don't get along with girls. I don't want to spend time around girls. I definitely don't want to tour with girls--how much hell would it be if we're on the road for months and our periods synchronize? 

Mel and I are an exception. Right after the other girl left, Mel sent me two links to a capella groups performing songs from The Bends, while in another browser tab I was watching a Radiohead concert from 1996 where they were performing mostly songs from The Bends. That kind of music-related clairvoyance never ceases to amaze me, and it extends beyond YouTube links to the stuff we actually play, too. But Mel and I are going nowhere. I get along great with the guys in the other band I joined, but we haven't practiced in a month due to illness/travel/various other reasons, and I don't foresee that really taking off anytime soon. Even though I'm more comfortable around guys, I just... hate people. That seems odd for someone who wants to be in the entertainment industry, but it's not in my mind. I'll play a show for people, sell them my stuff, sign and talk and mingle and bullshit, pack up, and go on to the next show, but I'm not taking any of them with me. The only circumstance under which I can see myself enduring, surviving, getting anywhere, is alone. 

This isn't news to me; I've known it ever since Natalie and I tried to start a band together and she kept shooting down the songs I brought in before I'd even finished playing them. If I couldn't have a healthy creative relationship with my best friend, I'm insane to attempt it with anyone else. I should just devote myself completely to No, Really (and Isobel Triumphant, if I ever write songs for that) and go on my merry way. 

I just want so desperately to not suck. I want to make the kind of music I would listen to if I weren't the one making it (and yes, I realize that's a paradox). I only care if other people like me insofar as a vehicle to get me closer to the people I myself admire--if I get a huge fanbase in England, that's one step closer to a chance at meeting Thom Yorke. I have big plans for my next album, promotional stuff like an EPK and such so I'll be a little more legit in the eyes of venues. 

In other news, today I got put on probation at work because I've had seven absences in the past five weeks. I've taken a few sick days, but that number sounded iffy, so I looked up all my hours on the timeclock computer and discovered that one of the seven they listed was Labor Day. When the place was closed. By the time I realized this and went to talk to the boss about it, she'd left for the day, of course. Apparently they're freaking out about paying too many people (yet there are never enough floaters for us to get breaks on time in the morning, or enough afternoon girls to be in ratio in every room by the time I leave). They offered a girl in another two-year-old room a voluntary layoff so she can draw unemployment. They seem to be looking for reasons to let people go, and I can only assume this bullshit is the product of their panic, since I used to work with an afternoon girl who missed two of her three scheduled days every single week, and no one ever said a damn thing to her about it. 

I'll get the boss to tear up the notice whenever she wanders in on Monday, but until then I'm stressed the fuck out and looking for other jobs because I'm sick of this place fucking me and my coworkers over. There's a preschool in town that's hiring full time and I'll be filling out an app early next week. It seems to be much smaller and fortunately less Christian than where I work now, and the ad said 8 to 5, which I assume means an actual full 40 hour work week with the potential for benefits, unlike the copout bullshit I deal with now. So that's something, at least. 

Aaron is sick of me wallowing in self-pity, but this has been a pretty God-fucking-awful portion of my life, and every time I find some little nugget of resolve left in me, something that quietly insists that I can't give up no matter what happens, something else comes along and beats it down. I need something good to happen. Please?

Mel came over around 9:30 and we spent about two hours recording this. I'm fairly pleased with it. Also, I managed to get our MySpace set up at minorvine instead of minorvinemusic like it was. Much better.

I just splurged and paid for a year of LJ with extra userpics. Yay me? 

Everyone's life seems to be sucking right now, but mine's all right (knock on wood). I got the full-time opening in Middle Twos at work, and I start Monday. The joy of making over a grand a month again is somewhat mitigated by having to be there at 7:30 each day.

This good news was also balanced out today by Mom calling to tell me she has osteoporosis. Grandma has osteoporosis, and Oma probably did too. That puts my likelihood of eventually having it at around 100%, from what I understand. Occasionally when I try to lift heavy objects, I get this strange and horrible brittle pain deep in the bones of my arms; I already know I don't get nearly enough calcium, and I bought supplements a while back to help change that, but I don't take them regularly.

Suddenly I actually feel compelled to take care of myself, and it sucks. I'm 25--I shouldn't be worried about what life will be like when I'm 60. But despite my free-spirited attitude in most aspects of my life, deep down, I do care. Fuck, I care about what life will be like when my kids are 60. I usually only think about stuff like that late at night when, again, my emotions have no middle ground, and I can't think about it for too long or I get seriously fucked up in the head. In fact, my internal eggtimer just dinged and now I have to stop thinking about it. Must distract myself! Look, it's Thom Yorke!



In other news, I'm bringing back the Hannahrama in blog form (remember Alf? He's back! In Pog form.) It will probably contain mostly copies of future LiveJournal posts that have been sanitized for public consumption. I was really, really happy when I found that WordPress template--it's adorable. 

I was sick yesterday. Achy all over, sore throat, severe pain all over my skull, the works. Today all the symptoms are gone, except I can barely swallow. I was worried that it's my tonsils. I'd be shit out of luck if I had to get them removed. Work was awesome, needless to say; I couldn't yell over the kids, so I used a bell to get their attention, which worked sometimes. I had to take six kids to the office at once because they were all being absolute monsters. 

In happier news, Aaron got a new job! He'll do GIS stuff for the county over the summer, at least 20 hours a week, at almost $2 an hour more than he's making at dispatch. He'll keep the dispatch job a couple days a week, and if I get the full time position I'm angling for at the daycare, we'll be doing all right, monetarily speaking. At this rate I might even be able to afford a trip to the doctor every now and then to find out what the hell is up with my immune system. 

LiveJournal, I've been ignoring you. I'm sure you've noticed how I don't return your calls anymore, and I avoid the places we used to go together. I just can't bring myself to be around you these days, LiveJournal. But today, LiveJournal, something happened. Something wonderful. Something that might just save our relationship. 

I don't have a name for him yet, but I'm leaning toward Apollo, with Boyd, Badger, and Moist as close seconds. Isn't he beautiful, LiveJournal? Please take me back; I'm so, so sorry. 

Day Three: Ryan brought his vintage Epiphone ES-295 to MTSU's studio B for our recording day, and while I was stuck there for fourteen hours waiting to record two songs, I got to play it. Then I got to take it home. 

Day Four: I was terribly unhappy about having to go back into the studio and retrack guitar and vocals on one song, but when the crew spliced some tape (analog, bitches!) I got the rejects and will make book covers out of them.