I had such plans for my evening. I made my dinner, I did my Yoga For Dummies, I checked my e-mail, I almost-balanced my checkbook… then I took a Harry Potter break.
Six chapters later, I haven’t worked on the LSM website, I haven’t practiced my mellophone, and I haven’t written a review of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”
*sigh*
I was just reading a column on DCI.org, and one particular section caught my attention:
It?s funny how we all easily forget memories that are so important to us. What would we do without each other to remind us of all the funny things that happened? Would we try and remember the day that our caption head fell right on his butt trying to imitate how horrible we looked during a phrase? Or would we simply forget and let the memories fade with time?
The last thought is the scariest for me that comes along with leaving the activity for good. My caption head, Jamie Oakley, always said that we will never remember the bad days, only the good. That our struggle in the heat and torrential downpours would make us better but would never be our first thoughts when reminiscing about the entire season with our friends.
Maybe I just haven’t schmoozed with enough alumni from my years in Northern Aurora and the Bluecoats, but I find that I think equally of the bad and the good times. They were fairly evenly dispersed throughout my three years in Junior corps, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Well, maybe.)
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I had spent probably an hour or so fiddling with the new LSM site, saving to the server every few minutes.
Thank goodness for my particular choice of workflow, because shortly before 9pm, the power went out. I had been listening to some Oakenfold (generally my soundtrack of choice while doing webstuff), and suddenly I heard a popping noise outside as my monitor winked out. Then silence. And frustration, until it occurred to me that I’d been saving every two minutes. 🙂
I got up from my desk, walked over to the cabinet o’ candles, and pulled out a couple. Lit one for the basement, one for the living room, and one for the dining room. It wasn’t actually dark yet, but I like to be prepared.
Anyway, it was too dim to really do anything indoors, even with the candles lit, so I went outside to see if the neighbors’ power was out, too. (Yes, I left the candles lit like an irresponsible Diana.) Sure enough, the neighbor lady was outside, and so was the one a couple doors down from her. Our whole end of the street was out.
Went back inside and located the old-school phone that doesn’t need plugged into a power outlet. Not the cell, although that would have worked, too. Anywho, I dug out the electric bill and called the 24-hour Emergency / Outage number I found listed there. I was expecting some surly switchboard operator, but it ended up being one of those automated voice recognition systems. At first, I thought it would be voicemail hell, but once I figured out that it was that voice recognition shit, it wasn’t bad. Just weird.
Once our power outage was reported to the nice computer, I grabbed a book and sat out on the front step to read for a while. After about 20 minutes, though, even the light outside wasn’t sufficient for reading. So, I went inside, blew out the rest of the candles (I’d extinguished the one downstairs before I went out to read), put on socks and shoes, grabbed my keys and my cellphone (it has a built-in flashlight) and went for a walk. Hell, nothing better to do, right? And maybe by the time I got back, my power would be back on. Right?
Wrong-o. Got back half an hour later, and still no lights. Not even any streetlights. Went back inside, re-lit the candles, and got out the Palm IIIc to write this entry. Thank goodness for backlit screens.
So, here I sit, at… *checks watch in glow of Palm screen* …10:45pm, covered in a thin film of perspiration thanks to the impotent and powerless box fan—
Holy shit. The power just came back on. I’ll be goddamned.
Two hours without power. Could have been worse.
Now to go upload this entry, and see whether my computer’s fried…
True to my word, I didn’t capture any amazing photos with my first roll of Holga film. I did manage to puzzle out 1.) how to load the bastard thing, and 2.) how to guesstimate the focus (and I thank the Lomo for prior help with that).
It also appears that the camera is, at least for now, free of major light leaks. That may change as time goes on, and the camera receives more abuse. 🙂 It’s also apparent from the photo above that the center of the image is indeed crisper than the edges, and that there is a noticeable amount of vignetting around the corners. I did use the flash, though, which might have added to the effect.
Overall, I think I’m pleased with my Holga.
Now I need to go ship off my three rolls of Lomo film and my one roll of Holga film from the 4th of July.
My practice gloves smell like sunscreen and sweat. I reach into the horn case and put them on. I lift out my mellophone, still shiny from the bath and polishing it got Saturday afternoon before the performance.
That shine was the first thing, back in the summer of 1995, that made me truly realize that I was part of a drum corps. I remember being on the practice field at the Memorial Day camp, looking around the circle of horns warming up, and seeing the sun shine bright off the silver. It spoke to me somehow, made me realize that I was part of something I’d never dreamed I could do.
Now, standing in the basement of my house, I pick up my LakeShoremen horn, blow some long tones and lip slurs to warm up, then play through the show, opening my music to look at a few bars in a couple songs that I can never seem to get right. I run through the trouble spots again, then warm down with “Contact,” the horn feature.
It’s up to me now. This isn’t Junior corps, like Northern Aurora or Bluecoats. No one is going to make me practice. If I want to perform better at DCA than I did at DCM, I need to apply myself. Now that I’ve tasted performance again, now that I’ve roll-stepped out onto the turf and seen the stadium lights flash off the silver horns, now that I’ve heard the applause again and been congratulated by one of my own for a job well-done, now I can find the impetus to practice on my own.
How could I have thought of leaving? I’ll have to take time away from LSM eventually, I know… but not quite yet. There’s plenty of time to have kids and stay home on weekends. For now, I’m just starting to remember why I love this activity.