La Dolce Vita

Once again, fall is in full swing, and as I'm sure I gushed over the season last fall in my blog, I will do it once again. Fall kicks ass. It makes everything wonderful. It gives me an energy and momentum I don't feel any other time of year. Fall is electric, nostalgic and beautiful. The sky is never so blue any other time of year. Fall smells good. Really really good.

As far as the momentum mentioned in the last paragraph, I'm kicking ass at life. I always sat here in front of the computer, contemplating how to get my wheels moving, how to get my life started. How to get my ass in the practice rooms, achieve a high level of playing on my horn, make a demo cd, take auditions, ask people to hook me up for playing opportunities, land a steady job for much needed extra cash, organize all my crap, schedule my day, balance my checkbook. It's all happening, as a part of growing up.

Don't get me wrong, CCM still stares me straight in the face every morning and asks if this is really what I want to do with my life. And some days I still quake in fear and tell myself I don't really know. But I've gotten halfway through, there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I might as well run with it after all the work I've already put in. College shouldn't be any other way.

My recording date is set for two weeks from now. Even closer, the Clayton brothers are coming on Friday. I'm very excited to play for them. Although being in the basement of CCM for two days straight will be a bummer with the nice fall weather (no sunlight for us jazz majors, just fluorescent lighting and recycled air in the basement).

Last Friday Trent dragged me kicking and screaming away from my horn to spend the day with him, since it was his birthday. I did insist on going to my classes and a scheduled job interview (for UC tutoring, I landed the job!). While sitting at dinner, I had a nervous twitch and was silently thinking to myself, "must....practice.....must....practice...." and my anxiety got even worse when I saw the bill! But it was still a very nice evening. I'm glad I cut out from my work before 8-9 pm to partake in sushi and all sorts of good alcohol.

Hmm, what else? Mom is stepping on my toes a little by sending me random newspaper articles on everything from relationships to flu vaccines to mediocre jazz musicians. But I can deal. The important thing is to tell her what she wants to hear, and keep her off my back in order to live my own life. Which I feel I am doing very well.

Who Dey?

I usually blog more when I'm in my introspective phases. I'm not in one.

I have a recording date set for October 29th. No job yet, no time for one. Jazz ensemble is everything I ever could have hoped and dreamed it would be. The John Von Ohlen combo is ok. Big Band arranging is a big waste of time, but I'm glad I'm getting school credit for turning out a chart. Anyway, we only meet for half the quarter. Music History suuuuuuuucks. I have a paper due tomorrow. The whole organizational thing is going beautifully. I love packing my day full of stuff and getting it all done. It makes me feel like such a badass.

Here's an anecdote you readers might find to be entertaining. Well, at least I found it to be entertaining at the time. Last night Trent called me while I was at salsa (sometimes I like to go to salsa by myself), and convinced me to join his physical chemistry "study group", which had really just degenerated into a study of Jameson and Guinness. Once I got there, Trent, who was substantially loaded at this point, proceeded to announce to all his friends "Hey guys, I have an announcement to make. I am dating a complete badass." Irish car bombs do funny things to people.

The Bengals are apparently 4 and 0. I can hear the drunk people yelling "who dey?" until 3 in the morning, and they start up again around 8 in the morning. You know you're going to go far in life when you get up earlier than you normally would just to start drinking. For those of my readers who aren't Cincinnati locals, "Who Dey?" comes from the cheer Bengals fans have for the Cincinnati Bengals. It goes something like this:

"Who Dey? Who Dey? Who dey think gonna beat them Bengals?"

Somehow this ghettoed-out cheer with enough grammar errors to make me cringe is rather appropriate for the city, as well as the football team. The Bengals are a really really crappy football team, most people can't remember the last time they played this well.

I actually find it to be an appropriate slogan for the lovely city of Cincinnati. My friend Federico and I agreed that Cincinnati is sort of like a really talented, bright kid who smokes a lot of pot and refuses to apply himself/herself.

Another thing worth mention is that I can't wait for the weather to get cold. Fall is my favorite season. Trent and I have agreed to go to a cider mill on a weekend and get apple cider and caramel apples, and maybe go on a hay ride. I would pick a pumpkin to carve, but the pulp and seeds inside always totally grosses me out.