Early in the morning ...

I'm taking off in about 20 minutes to drive a vanload of 6th and 7th grade girls to a choral competition. Oh, and I'm playing for them, too. But I got talked into driving the van as well. I don't think I'll ever get paid this good to drive people again. Wish me luck. The thing drives like a jetski.

Ah, the joys of internet everywhere.

I'm out in the warehouse where I work, moving computers over to Active Directory (don't ask). So, while I wait for some updates to finish, I'm writing up a blog post. You don't need a personal computer to be a geek. Geek anywhere.

Glad I checked ...

I have 1 anytime minute left on my phone.

Something I've been thinking about.

I like people. They're my family, my friends, my co-workers. They are the people in the store, in the restaurant, the guy serving me food, and the one that just cut me off in the lane. But for the most part, I still like them in all their grotesque ways. In general, I have pretty difficult time disliking someone. I've always attributed this to the fact that I wasn't very popular back when I was a kid, and now that people actually like to have me around, that I in turn just try to always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Who knows ... maybe they're the old me, just looking for someone to appreciate them.

So, you'll just have to believe me at this point that I am not singling anyone out here, but I have been told by numerous people that I am "too nice." I didn't even know this existed. I mean, you always hear about this in those cheesy romantic comedies. It reminds me a bit of "Anger Management": Sandler's character holds all his hate in throughout the movie and is always ok with everything that is happening to him, and people take advantage of him left and right. So, by the end, he's "cured" of this and he's punking his boss and smacking his girlfriend's ex-bfs around.

But that's not me. I don't feel hatred inside me because the other guy is getting what he/she wants, and I'm just giving it to them and not getting it back. I don't feel like I'm being taken advantage of. I don't feel like beating up people because they're getting their way, and I'm not. When someone wants something, I can do one of two things: make it happen, or not make it happen. Then, I look at whether or not the thing in question will matter to me one way or another. Most of the time: not a bit. So, what you have is: something that matters to the other person, doesn't matter one way or another to me, and I have the power to make them happy by doing it. Why wouldn't I want to?

But then you have to decide: am I being taken advantage of? Well, I guess I wouldn't do it if that's what I thought, so I can't be an accurate judge of that. The beautiful part about doing things for everyone else is that it makes me happy. There are obviously things that I want for myself, but a lot of times, when I can do something for someone and make them happy, then THAT is what makes me happy. I'm not losing out. I'm getting exactly what I wanted.

So then I hear, "Stand up for yourself!" and "Do what you want!" I agree that if you deny yourself everything, that you're not going to be able to live a very productive life, but at the same time, don't "love your neighbor as yourself" and "turn the other cheek" make some sort of appearance here? Is that just not viable in today's world? Is there so much of a risk of being duped into doing things for someone who doesn't deserve it that you shouldn't take a chance at all?

I'm not sure how I would be able to change the way I am, but I don't feel like I need to. If it comes down to being taken advantage of, or accidentally helping someone that's really in need, I think I'd like to err on the side of too nice. I can't really see how this is a flaw in me, but maybe it's just because I'm biased to the good feeling I get after doing someone a favor (or 3). I'm not totally sure, but I get the feeling that I won't hear God say, "Karl, you're being too nice. Quit that."

I've got a backbone. It's just extremely flexible.

I HATE TAXES!

I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I won the bet I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em I hate em

Askinstoo is gay.

And no one is clicking on your stupid link.

Sorry if I look like I need all the attention ... because I do.

The illusion, the comedy of Joooooooohnny Magic!

So, my good friend Jonathon Havir is a professional magician, and he's doing a month long stint down at Magic Island in Houston. I've been once before about 9 months ago when he got his first gig there, and decided to come see his show again while he's down there this time. It's spring break week for the majority of the loser-y college kids, so I thought it'd be a good time to go, and I could snag a couple friends to join me. So, Scott and Trey (friend from waaaay back in the Big Sandy days) accompany me to go publicly harrass Jonathon Havir (or as he's known by the rest of the world, "Johnny Magic". Not even kidding. Most people don't know his real name).

I work half a day Monday, then pack and head out with Scott, who arrived promptly at 12:05, before I even got home from work, and about 45 minutes before we left my house. I was pretty impressed: I told him such an early time because I expected him to be 15-30 minutes late. Ah well, it was good for his patience. We head off down the road, stop about 30 minutes later in Kilgore to eat lunch (Scott for some reason, gets given a ton of gift certificates for Christmas, and all to a majority of differing fast food joints, so we were always set for whatever place we wanted to eat practically). We take off again, and show up in Nacogdoches about 3pm (this is an hour and a half from where we started). This is where Trey lives, and we take off with our last person in tow.

We show up at Magic Island about 10 minutes to 6pm, which is exactly 10 minutes before the club even opens. Jon comes down and escorts us in for free, and gets us seated in the swanky lounge section while he practices for the show. The place is just awesome. You don't expect it when you see the outside, but the entire place is decorated in a very ... 1930's European mystery novel kinda way. All the furnishing is awesome: old chairs, an elaborate bar, curtains, rugs and tapestries, etc. Scott and Trey were very impressed, expecting much less interesting a place. Jon starts up a tab for us on his name, and we're welcome to drinks while we're waiting. While we're sitting and relaxing (the show wasn't til 8pm), the local tech guy there comes up and starts talking to us about anything and everything. Pretty nice guy, although Jon has told me stories about him that kept me on my guard with him. One story in particular that he told was that he and Jon had been fixing the "head chopper" (one of the tricks) earlier that day, and that Jon should bring it by tomorrow to have a little more work done on it. Jon then relates the story to us about how he's heard that there were stories of about 8 accidental paralyzations and/or DEATHS related to the head chopper in the history of the trick, and that they were all on head choppers that were the same brand as the one he had. No heads were actually chopped off, but the spinal cord was hit and painfully broken in these cases. Thankfully (for Jon, not the audience participant), he has a million dollar liability insurance policy just for things like that. Good story.

Finally, the group that bought out the show for the night gets done with their meal (it was a huge crowd of teenage band members or something .. pretty swanky band trip, I gotta say ... the prices at this place are extravagant), and head into the theater. We wait til they're all in, and then are seated afterwards (there were plenty of extra seats for the show, even with the buy out). Johnny Magic does a great job as always (I'm quoting the lines with him .. I've seen his show one too many times. So has Trey). Unfortunately, due to the newness of his dancers, he has to cut one of the big illusions, and really draw out some of the audience participation ones.

Sooooooo, you KNEW that the head chopper story would have to go somewhere. I'm going to tell the story and at the same time, tell you what people are thinking (cause we heard all sides of this after the show was over). Jon comes out into the audience looking for a willing participant, and goes right up to Scott [Jon's thought: "I was looking for someone without a fat neck. I've had audience members that I couldn't get their neck to fit in the stock correctly cause it was so fat."] and says, "You sir, would you mind helping me out?" Scott says, "Sure." and walks up to the stage with Jon. [Scott's thought: "I remember Jon saying there were only 3 audience participation tricks, and we'd already seen two, so I knew which one was coming up. Then I saw him heading straight towards me!"] They get up there, and Jon says, "What's your name?" [Jon: "I didn't even recognize him out in the audience! He had on black pants and a black shirt, and I just grabbed him. It wasn't til we got on stage that I realized what I had done, and by then, it's too late to send him back or it will look like you've staged something. I was just praying that he wouldn't let on that he knew me."] "Scott." "And where are you from?" "Gladewater, Texas." [Scott: "He had JUST gotten done telling us about how head chopper had killed 8 people, and that he had just fixed his today, and had to fix it some more tomorrow ... and I'm going to be putting my head in this thing?!?"] [Karl and Trey's thought: "This is priceless."] Long story short, Scott does a great job playing along with the trick, and Jon doesn't kill him. And Trey and I got a good laugh out of the whole thing. Oh, and much apologizing by Jonathon after the show.

Right afterwards, Joy (Jon's wife) needed to head back to Big Sandy to work the next morning, and Jon's dad was on the outskirts of Houston waiting for us. So, we fled the building, got her down there, and then headed back into town. Along the way, Scott, Trey, and I decide that Jon is the most maniacal driver we've ever had the displeasure of riding with. White knuckles all the way, no joke. We went over to Bennigann's for dinner and a drink, and were treated to green beer, which is the worst idea EVER. Wow. I don't care what they say about food coloring and how it's not supposed to taste like anything ... that stuff was nasty.

I get a call from Desirée. She asks how my day was. I tell her the quick oversight of what we've done that day, and that I'm out with the guys right now. She sounds really sad, so I ask her what's wrong. She tells me that she can't afford to come visit me next month like we had planned. I'm a little stunned. She tells me to go have fun with my friends, and that she's going to bed. I hang up and drop my cell phone into a puddle on the bar. The guys turn and ask me what's wrong. I tell them. They offer to buy me drinks. "You'll feel better," they tell me. I decline. If there's anything my stomach doesn't want, it's to be swamped in alcohol right now. (Good news: she's probably still coming out.) :)

We head back to Jon's apartment. Magic Island rents an apartment year round for whatever magician they have booked there at the time, so this is where we stay. The place isn't the most beautiful apartment in the world (mostly because it houses a bunch of crazy magicians all year), but it works out. Scott and Trey start watching a movie, but I'm all tired out, and fall asleep on the couch. Jon told me earlier that I could share the king size in his room, and eventually I fall out of the couch, and crash in there. Jon is already a goner, sleeping quite soundly ... fully dressed.

The movie is finally finished, and the apartment is dark. And then the real circus begins. The only bathroom is attached to the master bedroom, so there's plenty of traffic. First off, Trey comes bumbling through, and opens the closet, which unfortunately has a large bare light bulb that is ON for some reason. So all of a sudden, the light of a thousand suns is blazing into my eyes, and Trey laughs and says, "That's not the bathroom." I point one door away, and he thanks me and goes. Next, all is quiet and dark, and then I hear Scott come running through, and then that other horrible sound that I expected to accompany it: vomiting. Poor guy. Never eat late night ravioli .. I'm pretty sure that's what did it. So, he's in there a long time, and that's ok. All of a sudden, from deepest sleep, Jonathon bolts out of bed, and runs down the hallway to the kitchen, and flips on the light. Then I see him coming back down the hallway with his belt buckle undone. He jumps into bed, gets under the covers, and then pulls them all the way up over his head. I look quizzically at all this, and then ask the dreaded question: "Did you just pee in the kitchen sink?" "Mm-hmm." What in the world. I laugh and go back to sleep.

The next morning, Jon rolls over towards me with a grin and a "Mmmm" sound. I say "How YOU doin'?" to which he promptly opens his eyes wide and says, "Aaaah!" I'm pretty sure he was expecting his wife to be there and not me. Glad I said something. We wake up, turn on the TV, and I relate to him the pee story from the night before .. and he doesn't remember ANYTHING. Then he starts telling me some other stories about his horrible sleepwalking problems, and how this kind of thing randomly happens. No joke. He doesn't even know he got out of bed, or talked to me, or anything. He actually was kind of glad to hear what had happened, because he said, "I was WONDERING why my belt buckle was undone this morning." Gross. Upon further examination in the morning, he decided that all the dishes in the sink would need to be thrown out as well.

The rest of the day was a total waste. We drove down to the museum district, but there wasn't a free parking space within a mile of the place. I suppose that everyone was off for spring break and was going out and doing stuff .. just like us. The police were out in full force on every corner. They were in the intersections up and down the downtown area directing traffic instead of just letting the lights do their job. They were 3 cars deep on multiple roads just to block off entrances. I am not kidding. In a 2 mile radius, I probably saw upwards of 25 police cars. I'm thinking that 15 miles away would have been a good place to go do some looting and pillaging.

Finally, we just gave up on that idea ("glad I wasted $2 of gas sitting still" -Jon) and went to eat lunch at Freebird's Restaurant. Pretty much it was a Chipotle. I mean, it looked exactly the same. The same full concrete floor, strange pipes being used as gates and fences for the order line, etc. It might as well been the same place, cause the food even tasted the same. Nevertheless, it was very good, and my lips were burning from the innocent looking hot sauce put out on every table. Also, they had a couple of flying cars coming out from the wall above the drink machines, and for some reason, they were occupied by wax dummies of Willie Nelson, Captain Marvel, and Barbara Bush. Quite eclectic.

After that, we packed up and took off, leaving poor Jonathon all alone. We got back to Nacogdoches, and David and his wife (Jon's brother) called and asked if we wanted to come over and hang out. So, Trey and his wife, and Scott and I went over, and Diana (David's wife) pulled out some games to play. We ended up deciding on the Newlywed Game, and Scott and I played as a team. I wish I could tell you differently, but long story short, we ended up winning. Sad. I also learned things about David and Trey that I definitely never wanted to know.

Now that I'm home, I can finally relax again. And by relax, I mean go to work.

Another year, another beer.

I turned 26 yesterday. It's hard to believe that time is flying by this quickly. I remember when I was 8 or so, and I was talking to my mom about the ressurection and the end of the world that I wouldn't ever see the year 2000. That was like, the definite end-all of time as we know it. Now we've far surpassed that, and don't know when the end is coming (no 2017 jokes, please).

3/12/2006: I woke up to Desirée wishing me a happy birthday at 8am. That was sweet, but I was hoping for more sleepy time. I sat at the computer for the majority of the morning, playing games and working on some music. I got hugs from the family, and the old talk started. "You're closer to 30 than you are to 20" seems to be the big hit this year. I'm the only person that says, "I'm over a quarter century." It's hard not to get a little discouraged when you hear these things. Summer called me and wished me a happy b-day, but in actuality needed help starting an outline for a music history paper (which I wasn't much help on, sadly enough). Michael bought me lunch at Sonic for my b-day (although if everytime Michael bought me lunch it was my b-day, I'd have a b-day every couple days).

So last evening a bunch of college friends were getting together for dinner because some old colleagues were getting married and were visiting. They chose to go to Applebee's (when Scott picked me up he said "you won't be able to guess where we're going." To clarify, Scott and I go to Applebee's quite often), so we head over there and have dinner. The food was horrible. I usually don't have a problem there, but I got a dry dry steak with browned mashed potatoes and broccoli that had ... broken up crutons over it? I don't know, but it wasn't impressive. Scott got the nacho plate, and the chips were all chewy. And our waitress took forever.

Anyways, I knew the b-day dessert was coming, but I never did see them do it. They were pretty stealthy. I don't think anyone ever left the table while I was watching. Oh, wait. I left the table to go to the restroom. Doh. I set myself up. Anyways, I hear hooting and hollering coming from the kitchen and the oh-so-familiar hand clapping. Here they came. I start dancing, and doing hand motions for the song (like on the line where they say "from Applebee's to you" I point at all of them, and then to myself), and singing along. They were pretty impressedthat I was so well-versed in their bee's-culture (or stupified ... "he needs to get out more"). The whole table got a good laugh out of it, and that made it worthwhile.

About this point, everyone wants to know what we're doing after dinner. No one will even throw an idea out there (not that there are very many ideas to be had in Tyler), so I tell them all about this game I used to play with my friends back in my college days (oooooh so very long ago). One person throws an idea out there (usually pertaining to where we're going for lunch), and then whoever vetoes it has to choose another place, and so on until no one has a problem with the decision. This works great because no one likes to have to make the choice, so usually people will be less picky if it's sorta ok for them. So, after I tell this story, Scott says, "OK! I'll start. Let's do putt-putt." And then I feel him kicking me under the table, and I say, "Uh, let's not. How about bowling?" Someone vetoes that on account of the amount of smoke in those places, and then it just sorta goes downhill into cow-tipping and frog-gigging. Long story short, we played putt-putt anyways. We had 4 guys and 4 girls, so we did the expected guys verses girls routine. The way the girls were shouting during some of the shots, I expected they would destroy us. After all the numbers were added up, though, our team beat them by 30 shots. THIRTY. That's insane. That's a whole other person added on to their score. Anyways, yeah. 30.

After that, Scott and I said our adieus, and went to Bennigann's and had an Irish Carbomb in my honor (or as the receipt said, a "Bennigann Blast". Gay). I wish I could say the day was more exciting than that, but it really wasn't. The older you get, the less excited you are to see it coming. I've already passed all the landmark ages (even the less well-known ones): 16 - driving; 18 - smoking and gambling (that one wasn't very exciting); 21 - drinking; 25 - lower car insurance (for us crazy guy drivers). And here I am. All I have left is retirement and/or social security. Oh, and a black balloons b-day at 40 to signify my over-the-hillness.

It's also a time to reflect on what I've accomplished so far. I've decided that the answer is: not enough.

Where have you been, young man?

Yeah, I've been out of pocket for a while. Pretty much ever since I got back from California, I've been doing non-stop rehearsals for a couple jobs that I had lined up. Here's the rundown:

I got back, and was able to put in an entire half a day at SFG (for those of you who don't know, that's where I do part-time computer tech work in-house). And I haven't seen SFG since. Thankfully my boss is very cool, and is ok with letting me galavant all over the place and still come back to my little office and my browsing, err, work computer. Oh, and I guess I should mention that's where I'm at right now. It's been almost a week and a half. Dang.

If you read down a couple blog entries, you'll see the jobs I was working on. The director (Susan Boylan) over at Grace Community High School (to be called GCS from now on) is a sweet lady, very dedicated, super religious, and crazy. OK, I say crazy lightheartedly, but really, she is just one big bundle of nerves. She's never not moving, and when it's a competition day, she never doesn't come by me and say something like "Oh Karl, please pray for *fill in whatever thing is going not quite right here*" Well, let's just say she's not all about having no practice with her accompanist until about a week before her competitions. If I had a tent and provisions, I might as well have never left. I went from one choir to another, then scheduled practices with vocal soloists, and THEN went into the next room where the strings teacher (Pam Eikner) was scheduling me to rehearse with 4 or 5 of her students. Back and forth, back and forth. Anytime I was able to get away, I scheduled a rehearsal with one of the two girls over at UT Tyler that were doing the duo vocal recital. It was hard to decide what music was really priority. I had a pile in the front seat that looked like ... well, a whole lot of music (I can't think of what else looks like that ... where hath mine witty muse gone?).

So: Wednesday, rehearsals. Thursday, rehearsals. Friday, rehearsals. Sunday, rehearsals. This morning I call Susan and ask when the rehearsals start, and she tells me that one of the music professors over at UT had died on Saturday. Dr. Allen had a massive coronary. I've had him for quite a few classes, and worked with him doing musicals and such. I was never in the choir which was his real specialty, but I still felt pretty shocked by the news. The guy was so virile. Even at 62 years old, I thought he was going to outlive ME. He smoked like a chimney though, and maybe that's what contributed to the heartattack. I'm making calls to everyone I know. I'm getting calls from everyone I know. It's amazing how much that one man meant to a whole community, and extending so much farther. Thank goodness for weekend minutes.

By about Sunday after rehearsals, I'm starting to really worry about the quality of these choir groups. Some of them are just horrible. The show choirs are about as dead as can be. They walk their steps, they sing the notes, and they look bored to death. I usually wouldn't care very much, but here's the deal: If these groups go to the district meet and get a one (1), then they advance to state. Big deal, right? How does that affect me? Well, if no one goes to state, then this job is pretty much washed up after Wednesday. I told Desirée that maybe I should give the students a private pep talk about how Karl needs money and that their sucktitude could put me in the poorhouse. She seemed to think they wouldn't care. She hasn't heard them cheer for me when I walk in the door. :)

Monday rolls through, and I see more students in one day than I ever want to again. I rehearse all 5 of my vocal soloists, I rehearse 5 string soloists, and a new addition since Sunday, a trumpet player (the band director sees me outside on Sunday and is like "hey, need something to do?" Ha, he's funny). Not to mention that I rehearsed every choir and ensemble that Susan has: Ashira (full choir), Celestial Singers (full girls choir), David's Mighty Men (full guys choir), Cougar Chorale (smaller elite singing ensemble), Tapestry (girls show choir), and the Freshman/Sophomore girls choir (with no fancy name .. aww). And then I went and rehearsed Stephanie over at UT. And then collapsed.

I find out that Dr. Allen's funeral is going to be during the afternoon on Wednesday, and these competitions that day will not roll along without me. I'm in a funk for a while because of it. Tuesday is the first day of competition. Susan has written a schedule for me so I can get to all the rooms for every soloist and small ensemble (the large choirs go the next day). LARGE sections of the day consist of me running from room to room every 10 minutes. It feels like every 4 minutes Susan is tracking me down and asking me if I've practiced with *insert name here*. And every 6 minutes, it's Pam doing the same thing, but for her students. I'm already thinking about the awesome stiff drink I'm going to have that evening.

Through the course of the day, I think I was one of the very few people that met every judge there. I hit every room at some point. Oh, wait. Not percussion. Shoot. Well, pretty close. For one of the rooms, I sat down, and the judge said, "...Karl Harmdierks, what are you doing here?" I looked, and recognized her, but I couldn't place her face. Well, actually I thought she was someone else entirely. I gave her a big hug, and was like "Are you going to call me this semester about playing for you?" She looked confused and said, "I don't know. I might be able to use you." This is when I realized it was NOT who I thought. So, I carried on one of those hopeful conversations. You know what I mean .. you keep talking very cryptically while asking probing questions hoping to figure out who he/she is without just giving away that you don't remember them at all. FINALLY after she mentions TJC (Tyler Junior College) it dawns on me that she was my sight-singing professor over there, and had moved right after I left. I really liked her ... she was very nice. Then I felt bad that I didn't remember her faster. Anyways, we caught up after the student sang, and held up the proceedings for a while.

I also knew another one of the judges (I'd eaten lunch with her before with one of my UT professors), and almost ALL the accompanists were familiar faces. In a smaller-ish community like Tyler (pop. 100,000) you get to know all the quality accompanists (and even some not so great ones). You also know who you're battling for all the good jobs in town. Jerks.

The last ensemble I played for that day sang for a judge that I had seen multiple times already. And never ONCE did I see him smile. Not a THING. Just a deadpan "thanks" and that was your cue to hightail it out. I felt bad for all the students that went in to him. So, the Cougar Chorale did some sacred pieces, ending with a great up tempo a capela piece. Afterwards, he TOTALLY SMILED and was like, "Good job. Great piece." I think I speak for the entire group when I say we were shocked. You could see it in their eyes. Here's me sucking at singing that piece because I liked it so much. Maybe I'll actually try to get it right sometime.

That evening was visitation for Dr. Allen. It went from 6-8, and I got there about 7:15. My friend Christian was there about 6:30 and he waited for me til I got there. The line was out the door. He had already gone through, and he was naming all the people that he saw. It was pretty much everyone we had ever had a class with or hung out with in the last 4 years. I was sad I was late, because I missed the majority of them. I didn't know what to say to Mrs. Allen. I've worked with her, too. She's a fantastic pianist, and so I've done jobs with her and Dr. Allen both. Thankfully, I was in line with a bunch of other awkward UT Tyler students as well, so we all were able to bond together in our insecurity. I didn't mind leading off the group either. Mrs. Allen told me that Dr. Allen really liked having me around. I don't think I could have asked for much more than that.

Oh, and I saw an old girlfriend there that I hadn't seen or talked to for probably a year (and neither had pretty much anybody else .. she fell off the planet). She was there with her boyfriend. He looked about as tall as me. That made me laugh.

Wednesday was the large ensemble competition in the afternoon. So, I did a rehearsal over at UT in the morning, and then I sat in on an impromptu choir rehearsal for Dr. Allen's funeral. It was great. Anyone could be part of it, and lots of old students showed up for it. Even my composition professor, Dr. Emge (who is an oboe player) came in and did his part in tenors. I'm sure the funeral was a great homage.

Not much to say about the afternoon groups. I lived through it, and Susan didn't go too crazy (even when she saw my bill .. it's pretty big). The good news: every ensemble made a one. I don't know how either. Some of them were pretty iffy. The bad news: I have to play for every ensemble again. I mean, sure that's good in most respects, but I totally could have been happy with maybe .. 3 ensembles going or something. I really was ready to throw away some of this music.

Thursday I had a day to slack off. That was until I had promised Christian that I would show up in Tyler at 7:45 to eat breakfast with him and another girl (she works in a psych ward, so she was just getting off her 12 hour shift, and she told us if we didn't do right when she got done, she was going to fall asleep). So, I get there. She's there. He's not. I call him, and he says, "Dude, that's tomorrow." I like, "WHA... he says it's TOMORROW. Talk to him." She talks to him, also quite angry. He was joking, thankfully, but I wanted to kill him anyways.

I had a rehearsal at 11am, and then back home til the show that evening. Instead of sleeping like I should have, I got this crazy need to record the song that is showcased earlier in this blog, and then to write some entirely new music. And somehow I churned something out .. at least the first section of it. So, I guess all is not lost. My friend Scott was stage managing the show, so he came by my house, and we left together. Pretty nice crowd of probably about 55-60 people showed up, and the music didn't go really badly like I worried that it might. My page turner had a couple screw ups early on (first time she was just listening to the music and forgot to turn it, and I had to. Another time, she turned two pages and I was looking at the blank back of a piece of music). After that, she was totally right on. Just needed a couple "oh crap" moments to get her in the right momentum. I only screwed up here and there, which is better than I expected, seeing as how GCS took all my time up for the last week. Afterwards, I went with a group of friends to Bennigann's, drank dollar margaritas, and LIKED it.

Oh, and no one's paid for me any of these jobs yet. Boo.

California and Desirée

So, I've been back from California for a couple days now. I got back Tuesday about 5pm, and my friend Jonathon drove me back from DF/W (we were some slow folks .. just enjoying a good talk, a friendly dinner, and the open road/interstate). Desirée did a pretty good job outlining the major happenings of my trip, while leaving a few things open for me to expound on. Let's see what I can do.

This was my first flight. Well, I think I remember once when I was like 2 ... but as you can tell, it's not all that memorable. I was a little nervous. The plane bounced a bit coming out of Dallas (it was a super foggy day, and pretty windy). I heard sounds that made me worry. When we were making our descent, the wings started bending downwards (man, I shouldn't have been on the wing). I had decided earlier that I wasn't going to start screaming until someone else did, too. Miraculously enough, I didn't have to scream, and I made it to LAX in one piece. Desirée picked me up a little after I arrived. It was amazing to see her again, death-flight or no.

The Millan's are extraordinary hosts. They had never met me before (the parents; I knew Ben and Stefan), but they treated me like an old friend. I had my pick of rooms to sleep in, and had my own keys. The fridge was mine for the raiding, although you never got very close to it, because Stella would already be fixing you a plate of something while you were just starting to think "hmm, I may be hungry." After leaving Desirée's place, I immediately took a wrong turn. Instead of calling her, though, I called a remixer friend from online and told him that he could get me back on track, AND we could meet up for a little bit. That was fun ... the guy was real nice. Desirée was a little nervous that I was out late meeting this guy who led me off the main road into what might have been a dark alley that he could kill me in and take my precious piano hands (and leave the rest of me behind). I think I might not have explained my situation to her very well when I called her and told her she could rest easy, cause it obviously didn't work.

So, somewhere between midnight-thirty when I crashed in the building out back of the Millan's place and 5am when I was jarred awake by a strange dream, I noticed that the fan and heater that I had running were now ... not. In fact, nothing was. So, I had to get up and run inside by the light of a flashlight to take a shower. Hmm, power on in here, that's good. Oh, of course not, the power to the bathroom only doesn't work. Yay for a shower by flashlight. So romantic.

Desirée and I went to the oral surgeon, and yadda yadda, she gets in and the receptionist tells me it will only be like 1 1/2 hours tops. Well, that keeps me pretty close by so I just sit at Denny's alone and think to myself "I never want to be this guy." Anyways, I head back a little early, and a couple minutes later, the nurse lets me back to see Desirée. They've got her on a padded bench with a strange white cloth over her. She's lying there totally still with her eyes closed, so I think maybe I'm a little early, but as soon as she hears me pull up a chair she's talking to me. She could have been a mummy: white sheet tight over her body, head raised on a pillow, and an ice pack sticking out from either cheek. She reached for my hand, but can't get to me because of the sheet, and finally wiggles her way out. She's literally wringing my hands the whole time and doesn't even realize it. She starts asking about the music, and where it's coming from, and about a minute later into the conversation says, "Who are you?" Then she started asking over and over if she was dying, and if I would pray for her, and then started crying. I had to fight back tears.

Here's a short list of other interesting things said during this loopy time for Desirée:
- "Where's my tongue? They cut out my tongue!"
- "Am I fat and ugly?" "NO, of course not." "Right now!?!" "..well, maybe just a little."
- "Am I drooling blood?"
- "You're a nice boy."
- "I can't see anything!" "Desirée, you have your eyes closed."
- "How did I get in here?" (At this point, I'm like .. ok, whatever. I ran out and asked the closest nurse, "Hey, random question. She wants to know how she got in there.") "They say that you walked in here and they helped you." "NU-UH!! I DID NOT!"
- "I'm a good girl!" (Yeah, she really did say that to the nurse.)
- "The doctor says you're my boyfriend." (That one made me laugh.)
- *touching her bottom lip thoughtfully* "What is this?"

So, the nurse gave me the lowdown on what to do for the next couple days, even though Desirée would eventually NOT heed these instructions. :) About 20 feet before pulling into her driveway, she did the frantic armtap, and I slammed on the brakes, she opened the door, and there went some gum blood all over the road. We sat around the majority of the day, except to get her prescriptions and some soft cold foods. THE YOGURT STORY INCOMING: Desirée hates this one, but she knows I love telling it, and she seems content to let me share it. The first time eating after the surgery was a small yogurt cup. She got a spoonful of it ready, and then put it up to her mouth, and HALF of it made it to her bottom lip. She couldn't even tell where her mouth was because it was still totally numb. I was going to help her, but she looked like she wanted to take care of it herself. She wiped her mouth, and tried to hide a look of shock when she saw how much yogurt DIDN'T make it inside of her. Still makes me smile.

Friday we went out for haircuts (she had setup the appointments weeks ago for this). I got what I like to call "organized chaos" on my head. The shampoo / head massage was worth the price. Desirée got a killer look and finally got beyond the post-partum depression of losing her teeth the day before. We went to lunch, and Desirée tried so hard to eat something more sustaining than a pudding substance, but eventually had to just nurse her soup. The waitress asked us if everything was ok, and Desirée told her that she had just gotten her teeth out, and the girl was like, "Oh, I'm so sorry! Yeah, I'm going to have to get mine out, too ... and heart surgery." Then she walked off with a smile, with us feeling quite a bit less depressed about our own pathetic little problems.

Desirée cooked for me Friday night, but was unfortunately still unable to really enjoy any food. Meals were taking forever, and I think it frustrated her. I hung out for a while, then she dropped me off at the Millan's, and went back home.

Saturday, Desirée came and picked me up in a stunning red dress that matched my new red tie she bought me. We ate a picnic lunch at Ambassador College, and walked around the grounds. Even after all the years that it had been degrading, it was still just amazing to see. The buildings and the landscape were fantastic. After that, we headed to church, and yes, I was mentioned quite a bit during the service. Everyone notices a piano player for some reason. We ate dinner with the Millan's that evening, and went to a duelling piano bar. It was pretty racy stuff that night, but the musicians were just amazing. They had two pianos, a bass, a regular electric, and drums, and pretty much everyone could go play any instrument. Guess I couldn't work there, being a lame piano-only guy. We also drank mixed drinks out of a bucket with straws. Classy.

Sunday was Venice Beach and Hollywood. Venice Beach was a big deal supposedly because there were a bunch of freaks out there, although Desirée assures me that there weren't as many freaks as usual out there that day. We walked up and down the boardwalk looking at shops, little sideshows, and ... freaks. Short list of things seen at VB:
- A man doing a show involving fire eating and balancing young girls sitting in folding chairs on his chin.
- A man on rollerblades playing an electric guitar down the boardwalk for tips (he must have had an electric pack or a battery somewhere on him.)
- Lots of random guys playing a guitar and singing their blues away.
- A guy with a couple turntables doing some scratching for cash like a lotto ticket. Ha, I'm witty.
- A young couple: him, with a kareoke system by his side, "oooh"ing along with a CD; her, standing close by in her ridiculous clothing just swaying and feeling the feng shui of his lyrical musings. I don't know WHO is giving them money.
- A black man in a thong (speedo? I didn't look long enough to know or care) rolling a metal ball along his arm. I GUESS this was entertainment.

We went to Hollywood from there. I cannot stress this enough. The place is SCUMMY. This is not someplace cool like you'd expect it to be. The only nice places are the high tourist places because they have security and ... well, normal people. We saw some shemale prostitutes on the street, and Desirée is convinced that later when we were walking behind a couple guys that one of them looked back and checked ME out. I don't have gaydar, so I couldn't tell. The stars on the sidewalk were pretty cool, and the Chinese Theater is definitely the highlight of the town. On our way back to our car, we got a little turned around, but were wandering in the right direction. It's still daylight, but we're walking down an empty sidewalk, and a big black dude steps out of the passenger side of his vehicle, with a bright orange scarf on, and silver lipstick. He probably was wearing something else weird, too, but I wasn't planning on taking a good look at him as we walked past. Unfortunately, about 5 steps later, we decide we're going the wrong way. Soooo, we go back by him. Now he's staring blankly at us, and then points at us. And as we walk by him as casually as we can allow ourselves to, he turns and keeps pointing. Finally, we're past him and walking slightly faster than normal speed, and we hear him say, "..I think I drunk some dirty water." About a block later, we look at each other, and I'm like "I think that was the weirdest thing I've ever heard," and Desirée just busts out laughing. And now it's our favorite story, but at the time ... eeeeh, not so great.

We went to Maggiano's for dinner that night, and decided to dine outside on their HEATED patio. (They were sure to accentuate this little tidbit of info anytime they talked about it.) The food was excellent, and Desirée was beautiful (and she matched me!). Afterwards, we had to find a way to get some cash, because neither of us had any, but we were in pay parking. First we decide to check the sign, and it says "FREE for first 2 hours." YESSSS. We have 20 minutes, so we jump in and go. I hand the attendant our card, and he says "$10." WHAT? Free was if you had your parking validated, and for some reason, Maggiano's was excluded from the list of places that could validate your parking. GAY. So I have to put the car in reverse and get BACK into the parking lot, and we go searching for validation. Thankfully, the guy in the local coffee shop was totally understanding of the gay parking lot procedure, and validated my parking without having to buy anything. Nice guy.

Monday we went to the LA County Museum of Art, and that was nice. Desirée covered this part well enough for the both of us. It was .. art. It was so amazing, but eventually you just can't stand it anymore of it, and you look around the corner and see rooms and rooms and rooms of it waiting for you. We ate a late late lunch at BK, and then as soon as we got back to the Millan's, they wouldn't hear of us not eating dinner with them. SOOOO STUFFED. Bob (Mr. Millan) kept trying to refill our wine glasses, but we couldn't handle anymore. He still left the bottle there with us. Good people.

We got a late start on Tuesday, but with a little faith and Desirée's expert driving, we made it to LAX with time to spare, and I didn't have to sit around doing nothing very long before my flight. Poor Desirée was feeling nauseous again that day, so she went home and slept after I left. I flew for a grand total of 3 hours, but thanks to differing time zones, ended up wasting an entire day in transit.

And, that's really about it. I've been reminiscing for so long now that I don't think my brain can come up with a witty ending. All in all, the trip was enjoyable, and unfortunately now I am overrun with practices and jobs. I mean, financially this is a step up, but I'm having to cancel going to my part time job for a week because I don't have a moment to breathe. Here's hoping I can pull through with these projects. Doing badly in public isn't good for the professional image. :) I'm out.