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I think I love music again. Today I finished the song I was commissioned to write back in November, and after mixing it down and exporting it I just felt SO good. I felt like my voice was a weapon and I could do anything. I kept playing guitar for a while afterward and it felt great. On the way to give a guitar lesson (at which the six-year-old started reading chord charts effortlessly, with barely any coaching from me), I listened to a bunch of my favorite songs and they all felt as good as they had the first time I heard them. All afternoon I have wanted to do another tour this spring. I've been working up the guts to ask Nicole to let me play a guest set at rock camp. Mel and I were supposed to watch Being Human at 9, but I came over early and we jammed for a couple hours.

This high won't last, but I'm going to take advantage of it while it does. I've missed music. 

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Everybody's doing it! Let's see how many days I actually last. 

day 01 → your favorite song
And more to come...Collapse )

Fast forward to 4:33.
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I have olive green fingerless gloves, and good mail, and a new betta named George, and I just ate soup with slices of a giant carrot in it, and a slice of Amish-made sourdough bread with garlic-and-dill goat cheese on it. This day has been amazing. Oh, and earlier this week I smoked a clove cigarette for the first time while singing along with OK Computer on vinyl. This week has been pretty amazing too. 

I want to find a way to stay unemployed forever, because this is really starting to get awesome.

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All the lazy bitches on Facebook who think they're doing something meaningful about breast cancer awareness when they change their status updates with the colors of their bras.

1. Women are not the only people affected by breast cancer. Attempting to raise awareness by posting one's bra color sends a message that this is a no-boys-allowed party. Great idea girls--let's take steps toward alienating half the population by being enigmatic and exclusive. Keep it up, and in a few years only female scientists and doctors will be working toward curing breast cancer; men will focus on the prostate and testicular varieties.

2. Is there anyone left in the first world (where the vast majority of medical breakthroughs happen) who isn't aware of breast cancer, or even anyone who isn't fewer than three degrees of separation from someone who has had/died from/survived breast cancer?

3. Turning this stupidity into a big online campaign involves serious peer pressure when it comes to something fairly private for lots of people. I have absolutely no desire to divulge the color of my bra over Facebook, because nobody needs to know that aside from me and Aaron. Go on, call me a big fat prude who isn't comfortable with her body or femininity. I'm not wearing a bra right now and I haven't shaved my legs or armpits in months, and I'm okay with telling you all that because nobody has implied that I should tell people that in order to raise awareness for breast cancer.

4. One friend of a friend on Facebook said this campaign was a good thing because it's getting people talking about breast cancer awareness. Back when my aunt died of breast cancer, those little pink ribbons you got in exchange for a donation were all over the place. Has the movement regressed so far that the best we can hope for is to get people talking?

5. Wanna do something meaningful about breast cancer? Volunteer your time. Pass out flyers. Lick envelopes. Sign petitions. Talk to breast cancer survivors and patients. If you can't do any of those things, don't put your bra color on the Internet and imagine you're actually making a difference in the world.
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Stop moping. Stop doing your head in. Stop fucking yourself up. Stop crying at night. Stop letting yourself go. Stop being afraid. Stop yelling over nothing. Stop being miserable.

Start moving. Start edifying yourself. Start working for yourself. Start breathing deeply. Start speaking clearly. Start eating well. Start making friends. Start making plans. Start empowering yourself.

Spend more time outside. Spend more energy on other people. Spend less time online. Spend less money on stupid crap.

Accept that you're turning into your mother. Accept that you won't make money from the things you love. Accept that you can't paint (and paint anyway). Accept that you live here. Accept that this is your body, and your mind, and you can't swap either one.

Stay busy. Stay in the moment. Stay awake. Stay away from the Internet.

Make art. Make progress. Make time. Make allowances.

Forget that it's too cold to go for a walk. Forget how family members wronged you in the past. Forget everything you've taught yourself, so you can learn it all again.

Current Music:
So I'm breathing, drinking, writing, singing, every day I'm on the clock.
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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.

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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.
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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. 

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Got the camera.

Now the work begins. 

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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?
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