So a friend said to me the other day, "I don't know how you get up in front of people and sing like that." I took that as a compliment, though in retrospect might not have been... And deep down, I know she was just making conversation, but because I take stuff like that as a literal challenge, I figured I'd share my "secrets to success" with the rest of the world. Maybe its more like, "failing without destroying your ego" but I'll let you make the call.
Ok, so here's my formula for public performance:
1) Practice as much as you can so then you know deep down that even if you suck in front of everyone, you can tell yourself you *know* you *could* have done a great job.
2) Know that everyone out there wants you to succeed. Nobody wants to hear you fail, so they will forgive what you're doing wrong, and listen more for what you're doing right. People will remember the 2 verses you did right, not the one you monkey'ed up if you take it in stride. (Judged events and angry drunks are different. I recommend avoiding both.)
3) Perform for people a lot. Eventually it won't throw you off as much because you'll have said every possible stupid thing under the sun. After a while doing dumb stuff into a mic won't phase you as much and you might even start to enjoy it. Yes, even *I* have said stuff I regretted. No, I won't tell you what I said. You had to be there, and I'm glad you weren't. Wait until next time, and yes, there will be a next time.
4) People don't care as much as you do about what you sound like. My inner critic and suck-meter are far more sensitive than most audiences. Yours probably is too.
5) You're never too 'seasoned' to psych yourself out. It still happens to me on occasion, usually in church. My kids think it's really funny to see my legs shaking. All you can do is get back on the horse. Next time will go better.
6) Make sure there's a next time.
7) Instructions are pretty simple. The execution is tricky.
There is one more kind of anti-guideline caveat-thing, and that is simply to know when it's NOT your turn. Sometimes you should just take a bow. Play nice and give someone else the spotlight. I've been at a couple events lately where someone has asked me to play/sing spur of the moment. Sometimes this is fine, sometimes it isn't. I was at a house warming with work friends. My friends knew I played guitar, but the hosts didn't, nor did they ask me to play. I don't think that's an appropriate time to surprise people with you 'talents.' Also, I was at a wedding reception recently where the bride, after finishing singing a song herself, looked my way and pointed the mic at me. I appreciated the invite, but really, it was her moment and I'm not going to be the douchebag that tries to one-up the bride. And seriously, how would I follow that up, anyway? Here's some Nirvana unplugged I hope ya'll like!
So that's it in a nutshell. Be yourself, but not so much of yourself that you look like a total idiot. Maybe next time I'll reduce the 7 points down to one.
So you know that mountain of paperwork you have to fill out when you go to a new doctor? I'm working my way through a 12 page "Getting to know you" evaluation and, I kid you not, the second to last question is:
"Are you currently under the influence?"
Seriously? They waited 12 pages to ask that? I'd think that would be kind of a page 1 question... you know, like "If Yes, then please come back and fill out the other 11 pages when you're sober."
If it wasn't just a check box I'd love to put "No, but I was when I started."
So, when you're built like half a man like I am, you get used to people using adjectives like 'thin' or 'skinny' or 'boney' to describe you. True story, I actually got called 'slight' the other day as if it were 'slightly' less of an insult. Slight? Really? What am I, a ballet dancer? At that point you might as well call me a 'lithe' or 'wispy' and get it over with.
Everyone assumes that I've always been this way. And granted, I never hit big guy status, but the truth is, 4 years ago I was up 25 pounds and well, any way you look at it, that's a decent sized bag of cat food to be carrying around your waist all the time.
So how did I do it? How did I become the sexy, lean, beast you see before you today? I can sum it up in two words:
Just for the record, I got sunburnt yesterday. Yes, that's right. Second week of Sept and "my summer tan" which was actually decent compared to other years, was rendered obsolete.
Being 'fair skinned' is so overrated.
Mark's this guy who, for whatever reason, loved to hear me play at The Brick. Considering I'm just a dude with a guitar who plays for an hour on the weekends, he made an incredible effort to come out and listen to me on a regular basis. He also continuously tipped generously even after we had established a friendship, which in my experience, is unheard of.
I heard an interview with Bono a long time ago where he said (in so many words) that the problem with Christian music is that Christians don't want to write about or listen to conflict. But in order to write a song or tell a story with a resolution, you need a conflict to resolve from. I still find this true. At least most churches don't mince words about it any more. The category is "Praise and Worship." See? No need to dwell on hardship, or problems, or pain, we'll just jump straight to praise and worship. There are exceptions to the rule, of course. Death, which Christians are supposed to celebrate on one level, is inherently conflicting. I think that's why I am drawn to the genre I oh-so-cleverly call 'Christian Death Songs.' There's a bunch that put happy tunes to fairly morbid topics, like "I'll Fly Away" or "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" that sound like a great time until you listen to the lyrics. And a couple that are appropriately somber. I think "Amazing Grace" nails the right tone with the right words. But there are even fewer that just admit that death sucks for everyone but the dead. The ones I'm familiar with take the viewpoint of the dead trying to reassure the living. I like those. I appreciate the conflict. Mark liked them too. He would joke with me about how I should do a two hour set of death and break-up songs while people would relax, enjoy their coffee, and then slit their wrists.
I found out my friend Mark died of a heart attack this morning. I had seen him a week ago at karaoke and been in contact with him a couple times since then, but nothing connected. About noon today, I got a phone call asking me to sing at the funeral. Of course I said yes before I really thought through the logistics of it all, which honestly, it is probably much better that way. When I told Chris, she asked me what I would sing. Fortunately, I happen to know exactly which Christian Death Songs were his favorites. Choosing a song would be the easy part. Singing it will be the challenge. I called my friend Bruce who I would classify as an 'elder musician' to see if he had any advice on getting through funeral music. "Yes" he said, "Whatever you do, don't try to sing. You'll never make it. I've never made it. Find someone who isn't attached to the deceased to do the singing." We both laughed that nervous laughter you use when you're trying to wrap your mind around bad news, and hung up.
So I will miss my friend Mark. I will miss his encouraging smile. His attentiveness to my music. His randomly timed, yet poignant text messages (He drove a truck and would contact me at weird times from weirder places.) And his boldness to initiate conversations with an unintentionally aloof coffeehouse musician.
Here are the lyrics to "All My Tears," one of Mark's most requested songs:
When I go, don't cry for me
In my Father's arms I'll be
The wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed and I'll be whole.
Sun and moon will be replaced
With the light of Jesus' face
And I will not be ashamed
For my Savior knows my name.
It don't matter where you bury me,
I'll be home and I'll be free.
It don't matter where I lay,
All my tears be washed away.
Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from heaven's store,
Come and drink, and thirst no more
It don't matter where you bury me
I'll be home and I'll be free
It don't matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away
So, weep not for me my friends,
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to Him
Who will raise the dead again.
It don't matter where you bury me,
I'll be home and I'll be free.
It don't matter where I lay,
All my tears be washed away.
So I turned 39 yesterday and I gotta tell you... it's not so bad, or at the very least, it could be a lot worse. 38 was pretty good to me. Running the Rockford half marathon was probably the highlight. I ran 13 miles in 1 hr and 49 minutes, which was a once in a lifetime pace for me. Peshtigo white water rafting was a close second. Both were firsts that made me feel like I might actually be capable of surviving a catastrophe.
Here's me running like I'm chased by zombiesDay 26: Close up
So Dad, Is this close enough for you?
Day 27: From a Distance
Kites on Mackinac Island
Day 28: Flowers
Flowers are easy to find in Michigan in July. I took a lot of flower shots but I like the near silhouette look in this one, just because it's different.
Day 29: Black and White
Other than cropping, I really didn't mess with the other pictures much. This one, though, I had to play with the settings to get the football nice and dark.
Day 30: Self portrait
I liked the idea starting and finishing the photo challenge with the same topic. Then, I guess in theory, you can see how much you've improved. In this case though, I really like my Day 1 picture of myself more than any of my final portraits. Now, maybe it's because I did it in 5 days and not the full 30 so my artistic eye didn't have as much time to develop. Or I'm photo snob now and I'm so hip I don't even like my own stuff any more. There is another lesson in this though, sometimes the first shot is the best. Many of my final choices were actually the first, most spontaneous shots. So I guess the moral is, when in doubt shoot it anyway.
Day 21: Faceless self portrait
Ok so technically there is a face in this picture, but if you look in her eyes you'll see me.
Day 22: Hands
Day 23: Lens Flare
I've never actually tried to get a lens flare, I've only gotten them on accident.
Day 24: Animal
I did have some other 'successful' animal pics this week, but this one had the most personality even though it was fleeting.
Day 25: Something Pink
Day 16: Long Exposure
Day 17: Technology
My battle worn MP3 player... on a stump.
Day 18: Shoes
It's easy as a photographer to end up with shoes in your shot. I thought it was more interesting to not make them the focus of the picture.
Day 19: Something Orange
Chris thinks she looks like an Oompa Loompa and tried to dial the color back a bit, but this is how it left the camera. It looks vintage magazine-y to me. I shot it at sunset, so yeah, everything was orange and naturally over saturated.
Day 20: Bokeh
Ok, I've never done bokeh before. You're supposed to have a bright, out of focus background that then becomes 'starry' in the picture. Of course, Chris did the old, "You do it like this..." *CLICK* and got a great bokeh shot on the first try. This is as close as I got.
Day 11: Something Blue
Yoyo toes
Day 11: Something Blue2 (Bonus!)
Day 12: Sunset
Cedar Campus bay, from 'The Bear'
Day 13: Me with 13 things
Day 14: Eyes
So we're on Mackinac Island and this horse drawn carriage pulls up and stops right in front of me. I was shooting straight into the sun so I couldn't see much through the camera viewer, but I thought I had a good angle on these great horses. When I got home I realized the whole series was quite... disturbing. Although maybe it was me doing the disturbing.
Day 15: Silhouette
Cedar Campus bay at dusk
Day 6: Low Angle
Marquette statue, Mackinac Island
Day 7: Fruit
Day 8: Bad Habit
I think Chris is right. This picture is much more interesting left on it's side.
Day 9: Someone I love
We argued about whether or not shooting with the flash through a window would work. I tried it anyway and I was very happy with the results.
Day 10: Childhood Memory
I had a lot of fun throwing the frisbee and trying to shoot left-handed from the hip.
Chris brought a 'photo challenge' along on our vacation to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. You're given one topic or technique each day for 30 days. Well, I didn't have a month and I kinda wanted a Michigan theme, so I did it in a week. I'm oh so 'accelerated' like that...
Also, other than cropping, the pictures are generally unedited and not 'tweaked.' I figured if I started doing that I'd spend 20 years fiddling and never post.
Anyway, here's how it went:
Day 1: Self Portrait
Aaaand I'm off to a roaring start, aren't I?
Day 2: What I wore today
I went running this morning and this pic turned out to be one of my favs. Though admittedly it looks better than it smells.
Day 3: Clouds
(Chris and I argue about who took this one... she probably did, but I'm taking credit anyway because my other cloud pictures are dull)
Day 4: Something Green
I think it's a half inflated alligator, but I thought it looked like a depressed, beached turtle.
Day 5: High Angle
Just wanted to say that I caught another 2 raccoons this week. I'd like to thank the first one for eating blackberries before capture so that I now have a big purple stain on my pooped deck. I'd also like to shout out to the second one who left 'signature' in big scratch marks.
I know, I know, I should have set the trap on say... cement, but I've never had those problems before.
Anyway, the kids got to see the last one and have now had the 'My Daddy catches raccoons' experience.
Ok, well for starters, if you haven't figured it out, I've been blogging over here a lot more lately as things have kinda changed around the Gardner household recently. I will probably continue to do so, but I couldn't really justify griping about feral animals on the family blog, other than the fact that Yordanos wanted to know the Amharic word for "Raccoon." I'm like, "No Amharic. Raccoon English Only," and pulled up this picture in an attempt to describe why I don't want them running around the backyard, dining on free cat food.
So yeah, about 3 days ago I could no longer deny the fact that there were too many flippin raccoons hanging around. I put food out for the cats and a half hour later, no cats, but *4* raccoons (looked like a mother and 3 'cubs' or whatever you call them) were enjoying dinner. So I put the trap out, and needless to say, I caught the one male cat that I couldn't get when I was on the 'neuter the neighborhood' spree. It was kind of a toss up, but I decided to let him go and hope for one of them masked bandits. About an hour later, I looked out and saw a small raccoon in the cage. But here's the thing, whenever I've captured a cat, the other cats all do the, "No sir, I didn't see anything, officer" pose. But this is the first time I've gone out to the cage to find 3 other animals trying to help the trapped one out, and let me tell you, mama was pissed. So I took the little guy 'to a better place' and set the trap again, hoping to catch the mother, figuring that it would be my best bet at keeping them all together. Less than 15 minutes later, another sibling wandered into the trap. Again, he is now in a better place and hopefully caught up with his brother. I guess losing 2 in an hour was enough to convince mama raccoon that there was no such thing as a free meal at the Gardners because there has been no evidence of raccoon activity and the outdoor cats have been lounging around the yard all afternoon (lately they've been dine-and-dash'ing.)
But speaking of the outsiders, it's been over a week since we've had a 'Fat Murray' sighting and I think it's safe to say she's slinked off to the eternal catnap. Once she was no longer pregnant, she really wasn't very fat, but the name stuck anyway. I've probably mentioned this before, but I was amazed that we didn't lose any cats in the winter when the temperature dipped to -25. I figured if they could survive that, they could handle pretty much anything. But I guess when you're talking about feral cats, it's really a matter of when, not if. She was a gentle cat, I hope it was quick.
So cheers, Fat Murry, your serene, fuzzy face will be missed.
Step 1: Find bat in attic
Step 2: Go to internet and search for "OMG, I has a bat in my attic! Please Advise." Be sure to read about how good they are for the environment, how disease ridden they are, and then the part about how there's a big fine if you're caught exterminating them, you insensitive twit.
Step 3: Call insurance guy and say, "The interwebs said that most home owners insurance policies cover bat removal and clean up. Does mine?"
Step 4: Tell him to call you back when he's done laughing.
For extra credit, read about how you aren't supposed to 'relocate' bats in June, July, or August because the babies can't fly yet. Then look at this and try to care (No, it's not my attic.)
Ok, but the ironic thing is that, although they won't help get the bats out, they will pay for property damage caused by bats. Not clean up, but actual damage. So I guess I have to wait until the attic is so full of bat turds that it crashes through to my dining room. Geniuses.
It occurred to me recently that there really isn't a formal, "Go out with a bang because from now on you'll have to actually BE responsible, and not just faking responsibility like you have been throughout your marriage" rite of passage. There's no equivalent to a bachelor party before having children. I've watched my friends scurry about trying to get in that one last gift for themselves before their baby arrives. Money is almost always tight and the wife is usually keeping an eye out for such activity, but most guys wheedle in one last treat. I got lucky. I got permission to get the bass guitar early on. But Hallmark is really missing a niche here. Whichever company convinces women that having a child should constitute a celebration (and I'm not talking baby shower) will make some serious money.
It might also eliminate some of the awkward conversations I've had with folks who try describe the joy of children but are just too exhausted to think striaght. Seriously, parents are the worst salesmen for parenthood. "It's the best thing in the world... well, I mean, it's hard but it's worth it... and it's going to change life as you know it... and you won't sleep for 18 years, but you know, it's great." Um, so which is it? Because as far as I'm concerned worrying about whether the bleach is in a locked cabinet and "sheer bliss" are mutually exclusive, but apparently becoming a parent melts your brain to the point where that makes sense. Anyway, wouldn't it be easier if instead of trying to explain how joyous it was when your kid finally coughed up a LEGO, if current parents could just say, "So, what did you do for your Un-Dinking?" (Dink= Double Income No Kids) See? It's easy.
Anyway, I was thinking of all this because the past couple weeks have really been kind of one extended DINK fest (if that catches on, you heard it here first) and it's been better than any one event I could have planned. At a wedding reception, the math is working against you. A four hour reception with 240 guests means that you get to average 1 minute with each person, and that assumes you visit all through dinner. Maybe I've just been more aware of it lately, but I've done most all of the 'Me' things I've wanted.
-Had coffee with Wandtkes
-Played at The Brick
-Went to an Ethiopian restaurant with the Owens
-Sang at church
-Drove the commute with my wife one last time
-Saw movies (in the theater) with Megan, Brent and Zach
-Karaoke'ed with good (I dare say, borderline "great") friends
-Saw my favorite bartender
-Had lunch with "The Boys"
-I READ A BOOK!!! (Well, half of one anyway...)
-Various people who I haven't seen in ages have called out of the blue, the list goes on.
I know none of this stuff sounds like party material, but add it up and it's actually what any single celebration could ever hope to accomplish. I've interacted with nearly everyone whom I consider near and dear (I've missed a couple of you, but you know who you are!) in the past two weeks and that has made this transition into parenthood a real celebration for me.
So thanks to all of you who came to my two week De-DINK-A-Thon. It's really been my pleasure, and hopefully Team Gardner can return the favor sometime.
So Friday night, Chris stayed late in Elgin to hang with her knitting crew, and I went out to Open Mike and Karaoke. So, I'm walking home at 1am and I see Chris's car parked in the street, which is *really* unusual. I guess I had left my car in the driveway and she wasn't up for the car swap it would take to get her car into the garage.
Now, normally this is not a problem, but occasionally, on weekends when the weather is good the youth of Belvidere take advantage of unattended vehicles. I say "occasionally" because since we've lived at this house I've had stuff done to my car a handful of times. Getting my mirror whacked off was probably the most serious, but that happened to every car on the street that night, and clearly nothing personal. Some might say once is too much, but for me it's not so much the damage that bothers me, it's more just the feeling of being violated.
So, knowing that it's a nice spring evening and it's not a school night, I approach the Saturn trying to get the glare from the street light at the right angle to see if there's been any damage. I see a big clear splatter mark across the windshield which, if I hadn't gotten the car washed 3 days ago, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but now this requires more investigation. I continue walking toward the car and I see that there is little bits of something on the ground, but they're not reflecting so it's not glass, which is a bonus.
Care to guess what I found sticking to the hood and windshield wipers of my wife's car? If you guessed "olives" you'd be half right. Yeah... someone threw olives and maraschino cherries at my car. Cherries? Olives? If you can't make a good martini, don't take it out on me. Seriously who, pray tell, decides at midnight that they are going to drive around and garnish the neighborhood?
And this isn't the first time this has happened. Okay, okay, technically last time my car was condiment'ed with catchup but you get the idea. I don't know if the "traditional" vehicle vandalism foods are too expensive now or what, but it's just really weird. What's also weird is that they they didn't just whip the bottle of olives at the car (i.e. I didn't find a chip in the glass, or the container in the lawn) but they did egg the side mirror. ??? As if to say, "It's just a prank, but not really." I really don't mind the "sticky until you wash it off" stuff, but eggs can do real damage. Maybe kids just don't get the difference yet. I know I didn't until I had to clean it up and then realized a couple months later that I had missed some places where the paint had been eaten through.
Kids these days... pfft, whatever. Just stay off my lawn or I'll shake my fist at you.
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