Shit. Shitshitshit.
I have to write something, or I just keep it inside, This isn't going to make any sense or lead anywhere so feel free to move right on to the joke of the day or the next blog or whatever. And forgiv ethe typing, I'm a little teary right now, so I can't see the keyboard so well.
My pipe band, which I love and adore and put a lot of effort and time and money into , is dying.
Not confirmed dead, maybe not even in I.C.U., but it's certainly not looking promising.
I'm a shitty drummer, both in technique and in how mjuch I practice, but I enjoy it. I like doing the twirly-twirly thing and being the decoration for people to watch while they listen to the pipes and snares. I like helping little kids figure out how to twirl the mallets, when they ask after a performance "How do you do that?". I like inviting people to rehearsal, or talking to them about how a mini-band could be hired to plauy at their wedding reception or school function or whatever. I like traveling with the band. I like getting up too early for a road trip, I sortof like being too fucking hot in a wool kilt and black shoes on a 103° field.
I like being part of one of the best bands inthe state. I like kicking ass and taking names. I like the laughter than drew me into this corps in the first place.
So what's the problem?
I hate that my 2 leaders are taking a leave of absence, no-we-don't-know-for-how-long. I hate that I know I can't pressure them into returning, because that sortof is the reason they're leaving in the first place. I hate that the rest of us can't put together nearly as winning a drum corps without them. I hate that I can't fucking write (or read, sometimes) the sheet music for the tenor drum, let alone the snare. I hate that I couldn't be Condo-fucking-leeza Rice and negotiate a nice tidy peace settlement. Okay, she can't do that, either. What chance would I have? I hate that I've carved out al these weekends for competitions and declined other plans and now we may not even be going. I hate that this is precisely the feeling that our 2 leaders are probably feeling so why the fuck should my piddly-ass opinion matter. I hate that I don't have a fucking solution to this, and that I'm sitting here at work typing this out because talking about it isn't going to do any good, no matter who I talk to or what I say. I hate thatthe one person from the band who will probably read this is probably also on hisway out because of all this, because he's one of my favorite people.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
P.S. I also hate that I'm such a hideous typist.
P.P. S. I also really hate that I'm feeling this rotten, because really, I've been a generally happy person lately, aside from work, and this really is a setback.
P.P.P.S. The relatively tolerable Pam will return shortly; this is a temporary setback in my mood.
My pipe band, which I love and adore and put a lot of effort and time and money into , is dying.
Not confirmed dead, maybe not even in I.C.U., but it's certainly not looking promising.
I'm a shitty drummer, both in technique and in how mjuch I practice, but I enjoy it. I like doing the twirly-twirly thing and being the decoration for people to watch while they listen to the pipes and snares. I like helping little kids figure out how to twirl the mallets, when they ask after a performance "How do you do that?". I like inviting people to rehearsal, or talking to them about how a mini-band could be hired to plauy at their wedding reception or school function or whatever. I like traveling with the band. I like getting up too early for a road trip, I sortof like being too fucking hot in a wool kilt and black shoes on a 103° field.
I like being part of one of the best bands inthe state. I like kicking ass and taking names. I like the laughter than drew me into this corps in the first place.
So what's the problem?
I hate that my 2 leaders are taking a leave of absence, no-we-don't-know-for-how-long. I hate that I know I can't pressure them into returning, because that sortof is the reason they're leaving in the first place. I hate that the rest of us can't put together nearly as winning a drum corps without them. I hate that I can't fucking write (or read, sometimes) the sheet music for the tenor drum, let alone the snare. I hate that I couldn't be Condo-fucking-leeza Rice and negotiate a nice tidy peace settlement. Okay, she can't do that, either. What chance would I have? I hate that I've carved out al these weekends for competitions and declined other plans and now we may not even be going. I hate that this is precisely the feeling that our 2 leaders are probably feeling so why the fuck should my piddly-ass opinion matter. I hate that I don't have a fucking solution to this, and that I'm sitting here at work typing this out because talking about it isn't going to do any good, no matter who I talk to or what I say. I hate thatthe one person from the band who will probably read this is probably also on hisway out because of all this, because he's one of my favorite people.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
P.S. I also hate that I'm such a hideous typist.
P.P. S. I also really hate that I'm feeling this rotten, because really, I've been a generally happy person lately, aside from work, and this really is a setback.
P.P.P.S. The relatively tolerable Pam will return shortly; this is a temporary setback in my mood.
posted by PammyJean at 3:20 pm
3 Comments:
DAMMIT!
OK, get on Craig's List and start looking for people to get involved. I'm sure you can keep it alive!
Ditto, Pat!!
Wow girl, there's a lot of that word "hate" goin' on here. Yikes! But hey at least you got it out which is a hell of a lot better than keeping it in.
And double wow, as to the group situation. I know I know zilch about what you do but I still think you do a good job, at least from where I stand (and photographed ya!). The pipe band can't dissolve cause I wanna keep photographing you all when you venture down to the desert for competitions and what not.
Well...here's my shoulder for ya to wail on.
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