Hey everyone, my recent post has been moved over to my friend Darren's blog, for which it was originally intended.

Check out his site for some great thoughts and helpful hints about sustainable living.

She's Right

So last night my dear sister imparted some words of wisdom to me as I was going over some of the issues I've been having as a result of my mallet finger issues (see previous post).  She said, and I quote: don't we take our body parts for granted [insert rhetorical question mark here].

And she's right.  We do.  Or at least I do.  This cumbersome appendage on my digit is certainly in the way, and having to modify the use of my right hand accordingly has led me to re-realize just how much I take a simple right-ring finger for granted.

Here are some things that are more difficult with a massive splint on a finger.

1.  Reaching into your pocket.  I'm now a left hand pocket man.

2. Typing.

3. Going potty.

4. Washing hands after going potty.  Don't worry, I manage.

5. Soaping up my left arm while in the shower.  A plastic bag wrapped around a hand just isn't the same.  Hello wash cloth.

6.  Washing dishes.  You'd think this is a good thing, except that I'm batchin' it.

7.  Did I mention typing.

8.  Inserting car keys into the ignition.

9.  Slicing an onion.

10. Typing.

I guess the long and short of it is that I'll just have to be more thankful for the use of all my various parts from now on.  It's been too long since I've had an incapacitated one.

Oh, and you'll notice one merciful absence on the list: playing the mandolin hasn't been an issue.  It's cumbersome alright, but it's not the end of it.  Besides, Jerry Garcia was a three fingered guitar man (right hand), and Django Reinhartd was a two fingered LEFT-hand guitar man, so I think I'll manage.

Anyways, back to the task at hand.

So This is Not What I Had in Mind: A Sorry Finish

I'll admit that I had high hopes when I started this project.  I had visions of sitting and writing thought-provoking posts full of wit and mandolin related wisdom.  I imagined myself posting regularly, inspired by reflective practices that manifested themselves in introspective and well-articulated entries.  I mean, for crying out loud, I used the word "musings" in my title. Can it get more pretentious than that?

This Masters program has taught me more that a little about my ability to just pick up excellent management skills on the fly.  Work ethic and time management are not the same; I know I have a good work ethic, but the difference between working hard and working smart is one of which I am painfully aware.  And it's just the simple things where it falls apart.  Needing to post at least twice a week, and then not getting around to posting twice last week - Bah!  I feel like the apostle Paul when he confesses in Romans that the things he does not want to do, he does, and the things he wants to do, he does not.  There's nothing like having your cyber-record stare you in the face and laugh, "well buddy, you really made your bed this time, now enjoy lying in it for a while."

There has been one thought that has run consistently through my mind for the last seven-and-a-bit weeks, and that is that blogging just has not remained a stable/staple part of my life (since I first began in Xanga seven or eight years ago, or regularly through this project) because I've been blessed with an overwhelming amount of non-virtual relationships and social connections; the need to reach out to an online community is somewhat secondary, in my mind, to maintaining those real-time face-to-face relationships and meeting the various responsibilities that I have throughout the week.

This has the potential, of course, to suggest that I think only people "with no life" have the time to blog, but it's not what I'm trying to say.  I'm just increasingly aware that the reason I have had trouble maintaining the demands of this assignment, and have indeed failed to do so in some cases, is because I'm incredibly busy with all of the meaningful and valuable non-online aspects of my life.  Sitting at a computer for hours on end isn't even a possibility, but rather than view my battle to find time for it as a curse, I need to see it as the unfortunate problem caused by a life full of enjoyable work, many outreach opportunities in which I get to utilize my hobby and passion, and a wonderful network of family, friends, and colleagues.

I want to be better.  I want to someday actually work through all of those mandolin books, writing books, and that increasingly long short-list of books to read and review.  But I will not sacrifice my family time to do so, neither will I give up on being a part of those real life ministry moments that the band has been given. (I don't think I've mentioned that band before: swing by here if you want to know what I'm talking about.)  I've no doubt that I need to learn to manage my time better, and I need to be more strict in disciplining myself (and I need to ramble less when I write), but I need to be a part of here and now, and I cannot give up the chance to breathe hope and joy into someone's life for the sake of my own ambition.  It's been good for me to be reminded of all of this. . . but I still wish I had done a much better job of maintaining this site and being more faithful to this project.

Last week's tune was another beautiful European one.  One of the beautiful things about being part of an online learning forum is that I've been made to try and learn tunes that I wouldn't have paid much attention to otherwise.  This exposure has made me move out of the usual patterns in which I play, and re-learn how to utilize the entire range of the mandolin.

Also, last week's tune was that first that I've ever learned by reading standard notation.  Usually I just learn by ear, or read the tablature.  It's nice to know those piano lessons so many years ago are still paying off, even if there is an unhealthy amount of thinking involved.

Hope you enjoy the tune. Here is "The Lass of Patti's Mill."

Oh, and because if anything can go wrong, it probably will:

It promises to be a super-long six weeks.  You should try typing with this thing on.  Or should I say, y0u sh0upd try ty[ping with thi0s thing 0n0 ;

Blank and Panic

Today was one of those days where the panic just informs every move that I make.

You know the kind: every project that is peeking its ominous head over the not-distant-enough horizon begins to enforce its gravity on the strings of your heart; time sort of melts away from a compartmentalized calendar state to one long gray tunnel of hopeless anticipation; nothing happens because you're too busy trying to organize your attack on all that needs to happen.  Plus, like every other Wednesday this decade, it's cold and raining.

It's the blank pages that get to me, start to wear on my psyche like a slow router, locking me into a ruthless paralysis.  Part of it is because I'll never have done enough groundwork to be comfortable starting.  Surely someone who is going to say anything must have something to say, and how can I can I say what I need to if I'm so aware of how little I know?  It goes against everything I tell any of my students with regard to getting going - as in just get going. Start. Keep starting.  And in spite of myself, I just sit with blank pages waiting for me to spill onto them whatever tripe I've decided is worth spewing out with my name attached.

Then I come Starbucks. Time for some Caramel Apple Spice therapy.  (It's a drink, not a candle.)  Time to combat the gray and the rain and try to dull this panic.  And there, on the counter, is the latest from Ma, Thile, Meyer, and Duncan: The Goat Rodeo Sessions.  Released yesterday.  In my hand today.  And here I thought it was only going to be released in the U.S. Joy, oh joy.

It hit me as I put the cd on and listened as Chris Thile begins the opening "Attaboy" with an impossibly gorgeous picking pattern in some other-worldly time signature.  I'm seldom, if ever, intimidated by the blank pages of my mandolin.  I love to sit down and just spew notes from that thing, whether or not they are purely original or heavily founded on some other tune or riff.  For some reason I can stare an open space in a song and just fly right on into it, drawing on whatever I feel it demands from my particular skill set at that moment.  It's mine to try out and examine and explore, and hey, if it goes poorly, there's always the next time.  Just scrap the page and start again.

But silly me.  The endless potential of an empty break is not that different from the spankin' new word document file.  My mindset is different, and that's probably where it ends.  Sure there are some formal constraints brought to bear on the situation, instituted by either the song, text, or genre, but these are the kinds of constraints that provide a framework and foundation for any kind of coherent creativity.

I need to re-remember that as I'm not bound to the notes I set out playing on the mando, neither am I bound to those first words I toss on the sheet.  Thile, Meyer, and Duncan (Ma doesn't do any composing on Goat Rodeo) started out with nothing, and they certainly scrapped ideas as they developed the album.

The panic in my heart needs to spark my expression on paper as the same energy does when I'm pickin'. So I should quit this and get on to what I need to be doing! Panicking productively.

Stay tuned for this week's Song-of-the-Week.

Draggin Others into this Mess: A.K.A "How to Exasperate a Rhythm Player"

So, I managed to coerce my sis into playing some rhythm while I work at speeding up Fire on the Mountain.  It worked so well we actually sped up in the middle of the song.  (For those of you who aren't aware, that's not necessarily a good thing.)

This is pretty much how we both got started into this musical mess.  Only now I'm dragging her into my selfish little corner of performance improvement.

So, here's Fire on the Mountain at roughly 168 bpm.

Fire on the Mountain 1.2 - 125 bpm

And here's the first speed-it-up.

Fire on the Mountain: Painfully Slow = 96 bpm

Here's my first shot at this week's tune of the week. I'm taking some advice and forcing myself to slow it down, learn it to speed, and then take it up by increments. I completely missed out on the "C" part turnaround at the end of the B part (that's "picking" jargon for "I forgot part of the tune). I just thought that the tab I was reading had added a finishing lick for the tune.  This is what usually happens: I want to learn it so bad and get to the finished product that I hardly take the time to learn it right.  I believe I've made similar confessions.  

Even now I can see some technique that I'd like to revise, specifically in my right hand.  That wrist just needs to get more of the Del McCoury "wet dish rag" effect in it.  Loosey-goosey business.


I'm going to do my level best to shoot a new video every day to the end of the week, speeding it up as I go.  Hopefully I can even rope my sister into playing some rhythm for it on Thursday.    

I'm looking forward to speeding it up. I didn't make 96 bpm sound very musical at all.