Saturday, July 30, 2005

I Suppose You Think You're Brave

I think that there are some "firsts" that deserve to be remembered by oral tradition, passed reverently from grandparents to grandchildren through story telling and songs, others that are recorded in history books or film so that countless generations can learn from the past actions of others--then there are those firsts that go straight to blog.

My first time in a kareoke bar is destined for this last category.

How did she get herself into this situation? some of you may ask. And rightly so. It is no secret that I am not a singer, which of course doesn't stop me from belting it out in the safety and relatively private locale of my car where at least I just look silly and pathetic--my apolgies to my fellow commuters. My lack of musical talent or understanding of such concepts as "major and minor keys" (I had a tutelage on the Dido song "Thank You"), pitch, tone, etc has long caused friends and family alike to look confusingly at me while I try to familiarize them to a song I heard. They shake their heads sadly with wry and patronizing expressions.

Yet here I was, in public holding in my hands a microphone, letting real sounds issue forth from my mouth! I had not lost a bet, I did not make some deal where my humiliation in one area would grant me unbelievable riches in another (boobs are still the same size, bank account still gathering dust, dashing prince absent from the picture) and I had not let a single drop of alcohol pass my lips to get myself involved in this sad state of affairs!

To fully understand my reasoning, you must rewind a few decades back to July 28, 1968. Ok, now go forward again to the night of July 28, 2005 to celebrate a birthday of a friend--as a birthday request, she wanted "backup" for a few songs. Due to the following equation, I knew I would not be singing:
It would take an unquantifiable amount of alcoholic beverages injested in my system to even consider singing in front of a bunch of strangers + I had to work the next day x I had to drive back over the Pali Highway that night= I Injest only water.

She just wouldn't give up, though ("pack your bags...we're going on a guilt trip"), and having warmed up doing the backup--the only words I was familiar with in "These Boots Were Made For Walkin'"--it seemed not so bad to segue into singing more of "Proud Mary" and "Dancing Queen," fortunately or unfortunately--the jury's still out--two songs in my car tunes repertoire.

Secretly, I have always fantasized about finding some hidden key which would unlock my incredible set of chops, equalling instant fame, fortune and adoration.

The keymaster, however, wasn't giving it up that night.

My reviewers were kindly silent, so, while I have known for quite some time that I am not the best singer out there, I am also quite sure that I'm not the worst.

So, when faced with the questions do " I think I'm brave? Great? Terrible?"...

My answer must be, "Only compared to some."

Saturday, July 16, 2005

It's nothing but work! work! work! all the time!

Yes, a lovely day began this morning with a few torrential downpours lasting all of 10 seconds (this is Manoa afterall), so I lay in bed smiling at the sound of rain, glorious with the knowledge that I didn't need to wake up to an alarm and go rushing off to start my day. However, I knew it was not going to last long as I had already decided that today was the day that I would go into my office and show those piles of papers who's boss. With no distractions except ones I could think up (hmmm, maybe I should count the money in petty cash, or get some chips and salsa, or call my friends, or smother those beach feet with some lotion, or check to see if my blog page is still there--yep, still there (I know you were worried), I felt sure that I could corral the papers in my office that have figured out how to multiply like rabbits as soon as they touch my hands--damn you, Egyptians and your papyrus, too!
So, 6 hours later, the papers that didn't get taken out back to be drowned in a weigted sack are mostly organized (I know, I know! There's a big difference between mostly organized and all organized) which means, I am sure, more Saturday's spent working. I need an assistant, but not the kinds that wear a bikini and walk around with a board telling me "10 more stacks to go", or shuffle after me, muttering "Master", or, well, you get the drift.
Now, I'm back at home, writing this and trying to decide how the rest of my day will go. One thing's for sure...it's not going to invlove piracy--that seems like more work than running preschool.

Friday, July 15, 2005


The 'hood. Posted by Picasa

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Diving Right In

The page is set up now, at least.
I used the last of my brain power and energy of the day in figuring out a user name (should it just be my real name? No, guess you can't have spaces in the user name, plus if it was my whole name, I'd be one step closer to arthritis after typing the whole thing out), a password (I'm thinking that Suze Orman or some other such financial wiz would say it's probably better that I don't uses the same one as my debit card PIN), a display name (I must admit it was tempting to put on airs like a rock star--it may be the closest I will get to living like Prince, but trying to type ~*(@)! might get old, cuz, gee, isn't "The Artist..." back to being currently known as?), then a witty title AND a website address?!
So, that's it for my creative juices, I must say...at least until the next entry.