My Very First Open Mic Night

One new year's resolution down, 28 years worth of unaccomplished resolutions to go. I finally played at my first open mic night this past Monday. I've been telling my friends that I was going to do it for at least 3 months now and Mo's Bar and Grill finally got what it asked for. I was sooooooo nervous, but I think being sort of dumped by my latest pre-boyfriend gave me the adrenaline boost needed to seek approval, love and validation from a room full of complete strangers. It actually wasn't too bad!

9:05 we arrive at mo's where Quinn, the completely adorable and apparently high "host" of the open mic was playing some of his own stuff. He is very good and plays with soul. I immediately need to pee just looking at the stage, but then realize that there are only 3 people in the joint besides me, my 2 friends and the waitstaff. And of the three people, one is probably a homeless man and the other is a guy who still has the old navy sizing sticker on his new pair of jeans. They will certainly not boo or hiss if I forget the words to "The Great Divide" right? Right. I start to feel moderately relaxed.

9:10 Quinn and I exchange pleasantries. He attempts to help me calm my nerves (which despite the low traffic in the place, remain insanely active). My aunt Pat who is a musician in Boise, ID told me to make nice with the host since he is the one who controls the floor. Luckily, I was the only person who wanted to play, so I probably could have been a raging psychotic and still been allowed to manhandle the microphone. One other girl says that she will play. Her name is Snow and she is from Alaska. I wonder if she is related to Jewel.

9:30 ish (I don't really remember the time because I was too busy not vomiting). I get up to play. We have to mic my guitar because I DIDN"T REALIZE THAT THERE WAS A BATTERY IN MY GUITAR and it is apparently dead. Did YOU know that guitars have batteries?????
The crowd responds well to my weak performance of my Bob Dylan cover. Normally, I rock at this song, but the combination of arthritis and nerves made it a little less than brilliant. Then I play "All Fiction" and "Love Song"...the crowd is definitely reacting well...I get a few hollers and such and it makes me sort of brave. I say I'm done and they say, "ONE MORE!!!!" so I attempt to play "The Great Divide". True to my premonition, I forget the words to the second verse and end the song early, but it isn't bad. I'm just learning.

9:45 We stay for everyone else because I don't want to be rude at my first open mic. Snow sings. She has the voice of black lesbian woman. I don't really know how that is any different than a normal black woman, except that her songs were all about loving yourself and the woman child inside you and her loving her lover. She was cool and fearless. I liked her and let her use my guitar even though I'm pretty sure her legs were hairy and she wasn't related to Jewel. Everyone else was kind of non-descript. I played again later after one rotation and it was a little more relaxed. I'm getting there. Quinn said to come back and I offered to sing back up for him on a few of his cover numbers.

My general impressions were that most people who want to write songs, write them and play them even if they are no good. Quinn was probably the best singer/songwriter there and I was encouraged to realize that I wasn't the crappiest. I guess I just get nervous because we live in a world where american idol is the hottest show. We love the delusional people on that show because they are horrible but THINK they are amazing. What if I'm the Songwriting equivalent of that William Hung guy? In any case, things went well and I'm going to do it again. You should come hear me next time.... I promise to work on remembering the words to Great Divide.

Saying Goodbye to the pianica. It was a hard thing to do...but you know what sting said...if you love some(pianica) set it free. 

My Mom, my mom, my adorable mom 

My dad wears funny pants and still we love him. 

Pianicas and Dad Pants Make Easter Easter-y

THe following group of images tell the story of my easter. It was Megan's birthday last friday and we went to the pie where I proceeded to remember why I hate the Pie. I am not generally opposed to cheese (although my friend Paul...come to think of it, both friends Paul...would have me believe that it is the reason third world countries are oppressed) but that stupid place puts soooooo much cheese on the pizza that it gets all heavy and makes you want to die and/or scream ala French Kiss "LACTOSE INNNNNNNNNNNTOLERANNNNNNNCE!".

Oddly enough, I don't have any pictures of my cute sister. I'm really not very into using my camera in the moment. I guess I just wonder what exactly I'm going to do with all these pictures after I take them and load them onto my computer. I don't scrapbook (although a few of you may remember the faux scrappin' debaucle of 1995-1999) so it just seems kind of weird to have a million pictures of my life running around on my harddrive with no purpose other than the blog.

My little brother Bryan (www.irononghost.com) discovered my pianica which you might guess is a weird cross between a piano and a harmonica. It has a keyboard and is played by blowing air into a tube that looks like it belongs on the back of a dryer instead of an instrument. It makes this creepy sort of wailing noise that is just perfect for a guitar/ banjo/harmonica/penny whistle playing hipster like my brother. This particular pianica was a valentines gift from Liz when I was on my mission and it's signed by Matt Bevans of Jump, Little Children (my favorite pianica playing band other than the old 97's) so it has some serious sentimental value...After exclaiming that "the world has come to an end. There are no pianicas for sale on e-bay!" that kid brother of mine whined and begged, begged and whined until I finally offered to LEND it to him. His excitement was VERY short lived. Moments later, my Dad(see the man in the funny dad pants) squashed his dream by saying, "NO NO NO. He already annoys the crap out of us with that pennywhistle and banjo. No more weird instrumentation!"

I love my crazy/normal/funny family. It's good to know that you come from SOMEWHERE.

Finally an answer to the age old question

WHY I DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND by Ninny

(you've asked, my grandparents have asked, the "chef" at the Korean BBQ has asked...finally an answer or 10)

Reason #10: I only wash my hair every other day. DAMN YOU TREVOR!!!!

Reason #9: I'm too smart. My friend told me that boys are intimidated by my smartness. They like to have a girl who doesn't challenge them in challenging games of smartness. I've decided to stop making my dates take the MENSA test during dinner and I'm CERTAINLY going to stop laughing at them when their score is less than mine.

Reason #8:I don't fully chew my food. I must completely inhale it without masticating at all as evidenced by the peas I ate for dinner last night that made a reappearance. What boy wants to bring a pea eating hoover home to mom and dad?

Reason #7: I know that my peas made a reappearance.

Reason #6: I hold my hands high above my head when a dog comes near me so that I don't have to pet it...if the dog does touch my hand, I immediately sneak into the bathroom and wash them with antibacterial soap. Most boyfriends like you to like dogs. They think that dogs are children and that it shows some sort of maternal instinct if you like to touch unwashed dog fur.

Reason #5: I don't rockclimb. For some time now, I've been trying to figure out what I can do to have a boyfriend and I think the answer is rockclimbing because on the website where I meet people most of the boys say they want an active girl to do activities with them. None of them mention reading people magazine or shopping at costco, so the answer must be rockclimbing. Because I don't enjoy draping my limbs over a cliff and attempting to hoist myself to the highest point with a rope wrapped around my crotch, I will probably never have a boyfriend.

Reason #4: My blog gets dated more than I do. I think to have a real and proper boyfriend, you have to get asked out on dates off the internet. A chat on IM does not REALLY count as a date and a comment from an anonymous blogger or a stalker who finds your real profile on Myspace does not count as a real date. It seems like face to face contact is necessary if you are going to have a boyfriend. I should work on that.

Reason #3: I laugh like a chain smoking new yorker when I'm not snorting. It's become a real problem this sort of gutteral scratchy hhhhhhhhhhhe sound that I've begun using as my everyday laugh. Of course that's only if the snort doesn't take over first...hhhhhhhhe, snort! Who wouldn't be proud to take me to a Ben Stiller movie?

Reason #2: I drool. All the time. Asleep, awake, driving, watching a movie. I have an excess of saliva. In fact, Alie calls me slurps.

Reason #1: I currently have 8 empty cans of Diet Coke sitting next to my computer.

Words ought to be a little Wild

I found this quote a little while ago.

"Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it HOT." -DH Lawrence

I have always been and continue to be a "word-girl". They have a power over me that can only be equated to things of the spirit. They bruise me. They heal me. They elate me. They ignite me. They stir me. And yet, I cannot always control them. I say too much or with too much energy. I hear and interpret other peoples words incorrectly. Sigh. So much for DH's advice.

And still Nothing is more intoxicating than honest communication. And it happens so rarely that it makes me want to weep. How often do you have a conversation without subtext? One where the things that are being said are bold, fair, naked, true...When I get it and when I give it, it's like a drug...I can't have enough and it changes the chemistry of my body and I am different. So I continue to seek it, at the risk of sleepless nights and failure. I long for it. At the risk of losing myself or worse (shudder) finding myself. I seek it. With the knowledge that I will never be the same if I do find it and if I don't find it but continue in the seeking. I will never be the same.

My Dog Grandpa

It is time for me to come clean. For the last couple of years, I have been telling people that I had this idea that it would be fun to name a dog "Grandpa"...for obvious reasons, chief among them the ability to yell things like:

"Grandpa, stop humping that tree!"
"Grandpa, if you don't get in this house right this minute, I'm going to bleep bleep your bleeping Grandpa bleep."
(late at night) "Grandpa! Grandpa! Where are you???"
and in a disgustingly sweet, schmoopy voice "Who's the best little poop machine in the neighborhood??? Grandpa is! Grandpa is!!!"

Sometimes I think about my fictional dog named Grandpa (fictional because if you're going to clean up feces, shouldn't it be a baby's instead of a dog's? At least the baby will someday do you the courtesy of reciprocating when you are in a nursing home.) and I laugh for like 30 minutes. It's just plain funny.

Now for the confession. I didn't actually think it up. I was telling my best friend that someone thought the grandpa dog story was funny and she asked "Did you give me credit?" and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had unduely STOLEN a story from my best friend. Is it because we are so close that what's hers has become mine and what's mine has become hers? Or is it just that I'm stealing stealer thief? I should have known that it was she who came up with something so bizarre and brilliantly funny. This is the same girl who bucked cultural mores by selling DESIGNS (not pictures, "designs") to passerby's instead of the more traditional lemonade when she was a child. I'm not kidding. The marketing was genius...who doesn't need a design??? Everyone with upholstery, wallpaper and print skirts could certainly use a design for the bargain price of 10 cents a design.

At any rate, today I'm giving credit where credit is due. SO if you know the girl of whom I speak,(hint: her name is Alie) post a little shout out to my girl...the funniest damn friend in the whole world. WE ARE FRIENDS!