:: anne in the attic ::

Create Your Own Countdown

:: Friday, January 02, 2009 ::

Well, damn. Welcome to the new year. It's been six months and a lot has happened, so I think a recap is in order.

The fact that I'm at home right now to write this is testament to the first event [part one of two, as it turns out]: carpal tunnel release surgery on my right hand in mid-December. I finally caved, after being diagnosed a year ago and trying many things from physical therapy to work restrictions, and even attempting a new electro-cortisone treatment-- yeah, weird... didn't work.
Once this puppy is all healed up and regains full function [i.e. dexterity and strength], we're gonna cut the left hand. All of this results mainly in about 4 weeks off work entirely for each hand, and some light duty in between for several weeks thereafter. I put it off as long as possible and had hoped it would heal with extra care and rest, but it often comes down to the fact that many employers don't really view us as human beings; this situation being just inconvenient for them, they'll work you until you say "stop, it hurts too much." I guess it took me some time to allow myself the luxury of believing that I deserved that consideration [and I'm still on the fence]. But it's been set in motion now, and hopefully by this time next year, everything will be better than it was, at least with my hands.

That being said, things got decidedly worse in November when, the week before Thanksgiving, my cat-- MY cat, the most wonderful cat of my life, Samantha, was diagnosed with a common form of cancer in cats, alimentary lymphoma.
She was on such a downhill slope, and had actually stopped eating for a couple of days after the first vet visit. I took a whole day and drove her to the veterinary teaching hospital at OSU in Corvallis for some specific procedures, and we got started on round one [of four] of a chemotherapy regiment called "CHOP" therapy. We just finished round one last week, and she has responded quite well [knock on wood], so we'll proceed after the obligatory week off between rounds. I am fully convinced that, given the course of things and her condition around Thanksgiving, without this procedure, Sammy wouldn't even be here now. So I'm grateful for every bit of healthy-feeling-good time from this point forward.

Though it's hardly worth mentioning, since it really has no bearing upon my life these days, but my errant brother and his mental wife reappeared at the beginning of October and have moved back to town after running out of money. I won't go into the whole sordid fiasco, but I will say that the scary couple did contact much of the family in hopes of a bailout, and when it didn't pan out for them, they became nasty. The entire family is now maintaining radio silence until such time as Grant realizes where he is and what he has done and makes a decision to get out of it. He truly has nothing to lose now but his pride.

In other news, I'm slogging through the weighted part of the film work, which should let up soon into the fun part. I do wish I had a bit of help, but there's not really anyone available who is both willing and capable of doing some of the prep work. So it's on me, but I knew that going in.

Throw in all of the usual workings of making a living and keeping shit running, and there you have my life this Fall and Winter. The only thing I really miss right now is recording music, but that will come back after healing and being done with the film project. I'm hoping to be reimmersed in the CD project by summer. Man, that's been a long time coming.

:: Anne 12:30 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Ooh, I'm a baaaad blogger. If there are any readers left in the universe, apologies to you for the complete lack of updates.

The truth is, I quite often think of things about which to blog, but the sheer magnitude of each topic manages to overwhelm me by the end of the day-- and weighing in against all of the other tasks pressing on me, I tend to forego this in lieu of the others. Truly, there are not enough hours in a day for me. Or a month, for that matter.

Only two days ago, I had a "holy shit" blog idea that would have been a blast to explore, but today it has completely dissipated. This is why I very often have to make decisions about whether or not I want to follow the muse down the rabbit hole at ten (or even seven) o'clock at night, knowing full well that the next thing I see upon emerging from the studio will be the sunrise. With my work schedule, that just will not do. Of course, I am mostly talking about music composition/practicing/recording, here, but same applies to long stretches of film editing, or even "Photoshopping" a new project. (I remember spending almost an entire Sunday last year just playing with vector brushes under the guise of designing an album cover.)

That said, another new song happened yesterday. It was a strange discovery in that I hadn't written one that easily quite in this way before. It started out as a bastardization of a tune I know well, for which I wrote alternate lyrics (because I liked them better). What happened next was not so much an epiphany as those particular lyrics bringing about a completely different melody, for which I seemed only to have to recognize as the proper fit. It hasn't ever worked out that a set of lyrics fits so perfectly with another tempo and structure. To test my head and make sure I wasn't overlooking some huge blunder that would render it impossible after all, I began a recording "study" of the song... at ten o'clock at night.

You see, and that's how it happens. So, by three in the morning, I was sure about what I had on my hands. The study produced only a couple of fixable flaws, and those were vocally related (intervals that will need some practice, and a decision as to the lightness and quality of the dynamics). I was, however, going to suffer a little sleep deprivation. And it's really discouraging to begin one's work week already at a sleep deficit.

But I'm glad I did it. I was careful at the very least to lay down the details so that I can go back later and make a decent (i.e. better) recording. My completion rate for the songs I've written seems to be around 25-33%. Every three or four songs, I actually find a way to express it in the studio closely enough to what I hear in my head not to hate it too much. Yeah, songwriting is definitely love-hate. I think that, though there are parts of each song that I do like, I really only have two that I don't wince about anything from start to finish. I'd like to see that number rise, but a lot of it has to do with my rudimentary studio skills. The production part of it (orchestration, effects, and even the mechanics of playing an instrument the way that I hear it in my head) is not my forte -- I like the mixing better. I can mix and edit all night long, just like with film.

The nature of mixing and editing feels like my true calling-- I just see things, or hear them, and make them fall together in the requisite layers. It seems intuitive, not difficult-- only time consuming. I don't mind that, but I wish I could afford more time to develop it.

:: Anne 8:46 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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I had my own little Woodstock this weekend, just me in my studio. I recorded a cover and posted it, and taught myself some other songs, mostly in avoidance of the growing house chore list of Spring [no matter, next week is slated for that~ my first vacation of the year].

These last couple of days I've been taking my cue from the words and music of Elliott Smith. I mean, even his demo-slash-discards are so far in orbit from anything most people can create that it's astounding. It's at once inspiring and discouraging. "Playing things too safe is a popular way to fail." Elliott said that once in an interview. So, okay.

I came across a song of his that I'd never really heard before [or if I had, I hadn't listened]: the Jackpot Studio demo of "Cecilia Amanda." This resulted from a down-the-rabbit-hole link-fest starting with a MySpace music page called "Steven Paul Smith," his given name. I had gone there because I was looking for something else.

Anyway, glad I did, because after that, something clicked. Today, a song I've been struggling with for years finally came clear to me... just all of a sudden, which is kind of how it is for me: epiphany or darkness-- there is no in between. The picking structure and chords of Elliott Smith's "Angeles" kicked in and I have been polishing it off and on all day, among other things. I attribute a somewhat catalytic effect to having recently learning Gary Jules' "Pills," which has a "Freight Train" fingerpick to it, with a 4/4-to-2/4 rhythm. I spent some time breaking it down because I really dug the song, and it seemed only barely out of reach. So, as has happened quite a bit in the last year or two, plowing through the learning curve of a song that's over my head has proven helpful in learning other songs. Well, duh.

But I guess I didn't realize the scope of some of these basic styles. I remember being bored at the prospect of rote-learning "Freight Train" when studying with Walker, so I never paid it much mind. But now I realize the muscle memory he was after. It's a do-it-in-your-sleep kind of motion that frees up your mind to play all sorts of other things over the top of it, or mess around with variations. The technique is strengthening. And now I hear it in everything. Isn't that just the way?

:: Anne 5:22 AM [smartass remarks] ::
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In a way, I lucked out. My temperament is not exactly suited to schmoozing. It's not in my nature to bury my nose in someone's keister in order to land contracts or close business deals. I'm not up for the task of proposals and offers in order to compete for income. Instead, I lucked out, as I said. I found a place that took me as I am, and pays me pretty decently for honest work. I don't have to beg or compete; I just have to show up and perform the work.

A quick aside: Whoa, welcome to the Whiteaker neighborhood! I'm guessing there are only a few places in the country where musicians will knock on your front door because they hear or have heard you playing and they want to play with you. I told the guy to come back in a year or so-- that I'm a bit booked up 'til then....

...And back to our irregularly scheduled blogram:
I've been thinking about this [top paragraph], as this year, my graduating high school class meets for its 25th reunion, and a couple of the class uber-geeks (as nearly all of us were regular geeks at that school) have set up a a web/blog page where we can all commune for the next month leading up to the big event. I will be at my choir's song selection retreat that weekend, but it's fun reading everybody's posts and banter.

My class is full of doctors and lawyers, educators, realtors and developers, and mostly people who own or who have started their own businesses-- at least the ones who have checked in so far, save me. I feel like an anomaly (...and I sort of did then, too: a hippie-kid plunked down into a preppie boarding school in a posh community, where on the weekends, my peers went riding, sailing, played tennis in Palm Springs, or went across the border to Tijuana to score alcohol). Perhaps there are others like me, who just haven't posted on the blog yet, for whatever reason. Most of my peers seem to be highly successful folks. Sure, there are a few who have inherited their wealth and have never faced the need to earn a living-- I don't count them, really; they're what my AP chem teacher used to call "in orbit"-- they don't affect the curve. Only three of us are gay (to my knowledge), and all three have checked in. One of them was my best friend there (surprise, surprise). I will have to put the 30th reunion on the schedule now, as I am already regretting missing this one.

:: Anne 7:18 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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That strange 70's nostalgia is growing more intense.

:: Anne 5:41 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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I have somehow procured a cut just under my lower lip that, due to its shape and depth, appears to be the result of a collision of some sort. Personally, I think it's a spider bite gone bad, especially because I have no memory of its beginnings. But since it is right there on my face, people are bold to ask about it. I make up stories to amuse us both. "A bar room brawl," I say, "equestrian error," "a skydiving slip." They chuckle, possibly at the alliteration, possibly at the grandiosity of my little cut's origin. "An errant rake" -- I play some more -- "a jagged jellybean." That I don't really know doesn't really matter, but they glean that from my stop-motion poetry. Snuff poetry -- an idea long overdue.

:: Anne 9:35 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Well, now. It has been a while, so here's a little update before February's history.

Things are in motion, both 'good' and 'bad.' Of course, these are subjective judgment calls from my P.O.V. In some cases, I'm not sure how things will pan out.

The first thing that's been happening is I've been having mucho dental work done. It seems a couple of my teeth have decided to abandon structural integrity. I had a root canal and a crown [same tooth] over the past couple of a weeks, am looking at another crown this next week, and have developed a sharp pain in the area where the endodontist performed the root canal two weeks ago -- I think the tooth next door became agitated with all the poking, prodding & nudging [many novocaine shots]. I've spent over $2000 [out of pocket] and am probably looking at another $2-3000 before this is over. Man, when things decide to go south, why do they go all at once? I have always had good teeth - straight, white, & strong -- and have taken care of them. So this is quite an inconvenience, not to mention expensive.

On the familial front, I've been privy only to third party reports of my brother, the prodigal son. It seems his new wife has finally gotten him to sell his house, and they have skipped town in a new car. Last report puts them on the coast, deciding where to go next as they hit the road. I am not sure when I'll see or hear of him again, as all family members have now been cut off, after having tightened the purse strings [pre house sale-- I guess he expected us to save him from foreclosure]. I am amazed at his sudden irresponsibility, but I know it comes from her and her addictions. I suspect he will lose everything, but I can only hope he will escape her before it means his life as well. I am pretty sure she will move on once the money runs out. I can't fathom what is going through his head, as I have not spoken with him since October [when Dad & his wife visited]-- and even then, she kept a tight and angry rein on him. So although it remains a kernel in my thoughts, I can only turn it over so many times without new information, and then I have to let it go. I fuckin' hate it, but there it is.

The film is taking more shape every day, but I don't want to start the actual compositing until I have ALL of the footage I want, and that means interviews. There are some slated, but I was hoping to be done shooting and dive into full post-production by summer -- July or August. I notice that people tend to blow me off, thinking that the film is due way down the road [Spring of 2009] and that there's plenty of time, but it's really not. I hate being subject to other people's procrastination. I do not want to find myself scrambling to finish editing because of a few people who put off doing what they said they would do early on. In other areas, though, I am learning as I let it take shape in my mind and on paper. I am doing format conversions and interview transcriptions, which familiarizes me with the material so that I can kind of juggle ideas in my head. And I am taking in a lot of films lately, specifically noting other directors' and producers' technique and pacing. I am getting to know how I want to form the film's overall appearance. I am trying some things out. Fortunately, there is still time for that.

At work, I am dealing with the effects of carpal tunnel syndrome. Last week, I had a nerve conduction test done, and the news was that there is definite damage to the median nerve in each of my wrists. I bought new splints-- tighter and more contoured to the human form, and am now wearing them all night and all day at work. These new ones are smaller and black and strike a lower profile, so I am not as self-conscious about them in public. They also seem to be easier to work around, yet still provide the snug support necessary for immobility in the crucial part of my wrists. The test doc said I'm on the brink of needing surgery, and to prevent it, there must be some radical practices enacted to allow the nerve to heal. I'm seeing my primary doc next week to interpret the test results in more detail and hopefully recommend some healing methods [short of complete rest, which requires time off work... again] to avoid surgery.

So I'm sort of in survival mode right now. I'm hanging in there, trying to get everything done, budgeting pretty tightly to pay for everything, trying to work things out in my head so that things don't feel too chaotic, too out of control. In between, I take moments to appreciate and remind myself of the paths I've chosen and why. Some of it has to do with needing to have the space I'm in to myself, at least until the film is finished. I look at it as an investment in well-being, however expensive.

:: Anne 9:15 AM [smartass remarks] ::
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I had a "Holy Shit" idea the other day for the film after doing two interviews that turned out very well.

So I got up at the buttcrack [translation = before the crack] of dawn and, piping hot 4-shot mocha in hand, hiked to the top of Skinner's Butte with my gear to film the sunrise over the city. It has been exceptionally clear and cold lately, which lets the light come up in such fine gradations. I attempted one a few weeks ago, but it was rainy and drizzly, so all I got was dark blue into lighter blue. Today's was pretty nice. I love that moment when, after all of the foreplay between orange light and sky, the sun itself crests over the ridge and its first beam shines down on the earth. In panoramic view, the rest of the still-shadowed mountain ridges surrounding the city were sharply defined against the rising yellow-blue light. Then began the warm reflective glow off of various buildings down below, as they threw their long morning shadows west into the receding darkness. It was well worth dragging my hung-over ass out of my toasty warm bed at that hour. I shall have to do it again soon. I'd like a full-blown Spring shot of sunrise; then I'll have one on film for every season.

:: Anne 1:51 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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What I did this evening...
HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!

:: Anne 2:38 AM [smartass remarks] ::
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HOW VINYL RECORDS ARE PRESSED

part one


part two

:: Anne 1:52 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...