I hit a milestone today. Today I finally and officially survived my proper Sunday Service debut. I'm finally a part of it, this world of musicians big and small. A mere year ago this wasn't even fathomable. There is a good reason that I signed up for the Youth stream for this year's Hillsongs Con. A little less than a year ago, it was absolutely unthinkable for me that I will ever be any sort of a musician in this lifetime. And yet today I finally am. From this point on, when I hear people talk on the street say "muso", I can smugly smile and say to myself, "Self, that includes you." So now, a recap.
I had long expected this day, from the moment Lucko set me the date. That was nearly a full month ahead. I had practiced and practiced, intent on cementing the basics more than anything else, very slowly moved up my comfort zone 20bpm to where it sits now, at 100. I was expecting this day to come, in hot expectation and burning desire, and like a caged beast my soul growled day and night, "Let's rock!"
I make no excuse. I wasn't impressed with my performance today. I knew it was going to be a challenge. This week started with my side-job needed to be done. Halfway through the week, I was caught off guard with a hole in my plans: my body broke down. Wednesday morning it was, and by the evening I broke Ko Den's commandment: I took panadol. I had to do anything to get to practice on Thursday night in as best shape as I can. I woke up okay on Thursday, got to practice fine. Then I sat behind the drums and found a piece of myself missing: my creativity was lost. It was right there that I came to understand why people say that most (positively) creative people are happy people. I felt that most of my energy had been used just to keep my body going, so much that I had nothing left to spend on extra stuffs. The feeling was the first casualty. Nevertheless I managed to squeeze out some good moves, I thought. Friday was a disaster. My body broke down so bad I had to take a sickie. I was better on Saturday and by Sunday I was functioning. But the feeling wouldn't come. I had been overtaken by the dynamic duo of sneaking assassins of the soul: Doubt and Pressure. With my body broken, I couldn't put in anywhere near enough final practice that I had wanted. And without realizing it, the pressure got to me. I only realized it on Thursday night, as I lay awake in bed after just three hours of good sleep, all these things that I could use to play better came flooding into my head. It repeated itself on Saturday night. I realized it too late.
I survived Sunday Service. I played almost solely by memory, nearly nothing by heart. I couldn't even feel the atmosphere for most of the service. I escaped with barely noticeable mistakes, thank God. I played the closing much easier, much more enjoyable. In saying that, we didn't practice the closing, so I had no memory to use there, I had to play by heart. It was a bit of a comfort zone for me playing like that. A shame, I thought, not being able to enjoy the majority of my debut that way.
Had I been healthier, I thought, or had more practice, who knows. But put it another way, what if I *had* arrived on this day in perfect condition? I can only guess. I might end up cocky, much less thirsty for improvement, much less reliant on God, and maybe I'll rely more on my hands and tricky skills than the heart and atmosphere, pure and simple.
I went home after the Service and caught some sleep before I went to work. That was the fastest hour and a half I experienced in this past week. A few hours later at work it sank: I made it. I survived this day, and it seems that the only person who have anything bad to say about my performance is myself. All that is left now is to wait for Julian for the footage of a third of my play, and get Adit to look at it and give me feedback. I expect him to be especially harsh on me, because otherwise I wouldn't learn very much. But that'll take another week at least.
All in all, objectively speaking, I think I did alright. I survived despite the odds. I didn't enter my battlefield a star-decorated general. I crawled and clawed my way into the trenches, and didn't come out with a clean uniform. I came, I fought, and I'll be back another day. And then I went home, and I was satisfied.
Through our rising and falling apart
we discover who we are
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Wolverine and The Art Of Healing
Yeah yeah okay, so he's special. But along the lines of "[Pop culture icon] and philosophy", the series of books which I cut my philosophical teeth by, I thought I could extract some ethics and philosophical discussions out of Wolvie too. Subtly the thing that got to me was the matter of healing. So we know that basically Wolvie's cells regenerate. This way he doesn't die, and (conveniently, for plot purposes) ages only into his prime and no older. Smart old man, this Stan man.
Complete regeneration implies the state of perpetual freshness. This being a Wolvie movie, there was bound to be some scenes where we see his wounds close up almost instantly. Taken philosophically, this could be a representation of Wolvie the man, the being, and not just the physical body. And yet we saw, as we saw in previous movies, that this dude got an attitude problem and had a hard time trusting people. So this proves that Wolvie got scars too. He got emotional ones. I hope one line out of the entire movie is not much of a spoiler, but I think a line near the end of the movie hit it home for me. "His brain will heal, but his memory will not come back", was the line.
This line is interesting. See it from the dualist side, it says that memory is more than just cells in a brain. See it from the materialist side, it says that yes memory is just cells in a brain. The materialist wins early, by pointing out that when the brain cells regenerate they regenerate as fresh cells, and thus the information stored in old cells are gone. Double-whammy from the dualist will then point out that if motoric functions can be restored, then why can't the memory parts? Also, say that what keeps Wolvie alive is the regeneration of cells. That is to say that every once in a while cells are replaced by new ones. If this applies to the brain as well, wouldn't that mean Wolvie would forget old memories eventually, as the cells that hold them would be replaced by fresh ones? I'm not gonna drop the verdict myself on this one.
Technicalities aside, there is the soul to be discussed. I'm a dualist, I believe in souls. And as far as Wolvie's flick went, it seemed to me that Wolvie changed as a person during the course of the movie. The final moments of the movie propped forward two opposing sides of an argument. Does memory loss play the part of a reset button, clearing one's slate of mind back into a primal state, with only the most basic functions intact? Or is there something, beyond memories, that is still attached somewhere deep inside? I'll leave that argument alone, I think.
At some point in the beginning, though, it reminded me to move on, to keep looking forwards in life. I had a slightly buggy day today, and got big things lined up this week. This Sunday I'll play my first proper Sunday Service gig, and quite frankly right now it fills up the space in my head pretty much constantly. Going back to the wilderness, to cool my head under the stars is out of the question right now, just tonight it's about 7 degrees out there.
But the idea itself was enough to set me on my path again. Get a job. Find a girl. Don't let the bugs hold you down. Move on. Scars will come anew, and the past will catch up and bite you on the ass eventually. Shake 'em and trash 'em, but don't let them hold you back. Fight back, fight back, fight back. This life ain't easy, nobody ever said it was gonna be easy. But in fighting back, remember, you're not an animal.
Last point I want to make out of the movie: Ever wonder why we keep on fighting, keep on searching, keep on working, keep on digging, endlessly laboring and never finding? Maybe, like a wolverine, we got tricked, we fell from grace, and now at night we gaze and howl at the moon, for the beauty we can always see but can never touch again. Maybe.
Complete regeneration implies the state of perpetual freshness. This being a Wolvie movie, there was bound to be some scenes where we see his wounds close up almost instantly. Taken philosophically, this could be a representation of Wolvie the man, the being, and not just the physical body. And yet we saw, as we saw in previous movies, that this dude got an attitude problem and had a hard time trusting people. So this proves that Wolvie got scars too. He got emotional ones. I hope one line out of the entire movie is not much of a spoiler, but I think a line near the end of the movie hit it home for me. "His brain will heal, but his memory will not come back", was the line.
This line is interesting. See it from the dualist side, it says that memory is more than just cells in a brain. See it from the materialist side, it says that yes memory is just cells in a brain. The materialist wins early, by pointing out that when the brain cells regenerate they regenerate as fresh cells, and thus the information stored in old cells are gone. Double-whammy from the dualist will then point out that if motoric functions can be restored, then why can't the memory parts? Also, say that what keeps Wolvie alive is the regeneration of cells. That is to say that every once in a while cells are replaced by new ones. If this applies to the brain as well, wouldn't that mean Wolvie would forget old memories eventually, as the cells that hold them would be replaced by fresh ones? I'm not gonna drop the verdict myself on this one.
Technicalities aside, there is the soul to be discussed. I'm a dualist, I believe in souls. And as far as Wolvie's flick went, it seemed to me that Wolvie changed as a person during the course of the movie. The final moments of the movie propped forward two opposing sides of an argument. Does memory loss play the part of a reset button, clearing one's slate of mind back into a primal state, with only the most basic functions intact? Or is there something, beyond memories, that is still attached somewhere deep inside? I'll leave that argument alone, I think.
At some point in the beginning, though, it reminded me to move on, to keep looking forwards in life. I had a slightly buggy day today, and got big things lined up this week. This Sunday I'll play my first proper Sunday Service gig, and quite frankly right now it fills up the space in my head pretty much constantly. Going back to the wilderness, to cool my head under the stars is out of the question right now, just tonight it's about 7 degrees out there.
But the idea itself was enough to set me on my path again. Get a job. Find a girl. Don't let the bugs hold you down. Move on. Scars will come anew, and the past will catch up and bite you on the ass eventually. Shake 'em and trash 'em, but don't let them hold you back. Fight back, fight back, fight back. This life ain't easy, nobody ever said it was gonna be easy. But in fighting back, remember, you're not an animal.
Last point I want to make out of the movie: Ever wonder why we keep on fighting, keep on searching, keep on working, keep on digging, endlessly laboring and never finding? Maybe, like a wolverine, we got tricked, we fell from grace, and now at night we gaze and howl at the moon, for the beauty we can always see but can never touch again. Maybe.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
A New Return
After a long hiatus, I have decided to come back to blogging. A lot of factors played parts in this decision, but I'll just mention a thanks to Wulan for unknowingly being the final catalyst of my return to this realm.
So where do I start? I have to start with life. A lot of things happening at the same time at the moment. A lot of things of a lot of different magnitude to a lot of different people. Some good, some bad. But who am I to say what is good what is bad? All I can say is that this is pleasing and that is not so pleasing. Good or bad, I can only say later in retrospect. Suffice to say that everything happens for their own reasons. Be their cause our own doing, or their purpose is our future, only time will tell. The sheer magnitude of these events and happenings are what drove me to write again, to once again open a dam that I thought will never be full ever again. Anyway, here I am again, for better or worse, in this blogosphere.
Last night my parents left back home. At the airport I found myself torn between cold hard reality and a sense of filial duty as an eldest son. I think it's sad when the word Filial is paired with Duty, instead of Love. But, partially at least, that's what I felt last night. Am I supposed to be sad to see my parents go? In the beginning I found myself not so sad. I was sad nonetheless in the end, sad that I'm not all that sad that they left. Is it filial duty to miss one's parents? All emotional complexities aside, I recognize that I do miss the conversations with my dad. Though that's all there is, but it's still something. As they left I uttered a silent prayer, a prayer let on too long by my own uncertainties but summed up in one word: Godspeed.
Today I bought myself a cheapass new pair of sticks, an oval-headed hickory 5A. This pair I hope to use to play in church, to be a filler between my acoustic pair and my round-tipped 3A. I'm gonna give it three gigs. If I can't get the volume under control in three gigs, I'll give in and use a 7A to play in church. I like the feel of a thick stick when I'm playing. Even with this 5A I'm already compromising. I liked the 5B much better, but I thought if I'm gonna get the B I might as well just use my 3A.
Life has taken an interesting turn at the moment. Not just mine, but all around me as well. At the moment I'm just diversifying like crazy. That's one reason I'm starting this again. Either I'm eager or I'm desperate, you be the judge. I'm scrambling all over the place, hoping something I do will lead somewhere solid. My so-far-futile job search, my so-far-dead-end job, this blog, my drumming, Manis Manja Band, my Ember Curhat Ministries, my Advanced-Point-and-Click For Fun Ministries, all in hope that something will lead somewhere. I'm currently operating under the philosophy that I wouldn't know where things will lead to until I start them. So here's hoping one or some of these will catch on.
These are hard times we live in. But in hardship lies opportunity.... somewhere. Adin once said, "In the rushing currents of the river of life, the good news is there is always an island of opportunity. The bad news is, if you miss it you're pretty much screwed." But I need that opportunity. Die quietly or die fighting. I think the choice is a no-brainer.
Today as I was chillin' out with Lucko and throwing random thoughts at each other, he said "There's nothing solid to hold on to but God these days." Unknown to him, I recently re-discovered Creed. So in relation to those two facts, I'll let Scott Stapp has the last word for tonight:
Please come now!
I think I'm falling,
holding on to all I think is safe
So where do I start? I have to start with life. A lot of things happening at the same time at the moment. A lot of things of a lot of different magnitude to a lot of different people. Some good, some bad. But who am I to say what is good what is bad? All I can say is that this is pleasing and that is not so pleasing. Good or bad, I can only say later in retrospect. Suffice to say that everything happens for their own reasons. Be their cause our own doing, or their purpose is our future, only time will tell. The sheer magnitude of these events and happenings are what drove me to write again, to once again open a dam that I thought will never be full ever again. Anyway, here I am again, for better or worse, in this blogosphere.
Last night my parents left back home. At the airport I found myself torn between cold hard reality and a sense of filial duty as an eldest son. I think it's sad when the word Filial is paired with Duty, instead of Love. But, partially at least, that's what I felt last night. Am I supposed to be sad to see my parents go? In the beginning I found myself not so sad. I was sad nonetheless in the end, sad that I'm not all that sad that they left. Is it filial duty to miss one's parents? All emotional complexities aside, I recognize that I do miss the conversations with my dad. Though that's all there is, but it's still something. As they left I uttered a silent prayer, a prayer let on too long by my own uncertainties but summed up in one word: Godspeed.
Today I bought myself a cheapass new pair of sticks, an oval-headed hickory 5A. This pair I hope to use to play in church, to be a filler between my acoustic pair and my round-tipped 3A. I'm gonna give it three gigs. If I can't get the volume under control in three gigs, I'll give in and use a 7A to play in church. I like the feel of a thick stick when I'm playing. Even with this 5A I'm already compromising. I liked the 5B much better, but I thought if I'm gonna get the B I might as well just use my 3A.
Life has taken an interesting turn at the moment. Not just mine, but all around me as well. At the moment I'm just diversifying like crazy. That's one reason I'm starting this again. Either I'm eager or I'm desperate, you be the judge. I'm scrambling all over the place, hoping something I do will lead somewhere solid. My so-far-futile job search, my so-far-dead-end job, this blog, my drumming, Manis Manja Band, my Ember Curhat Ministries, my Advanced-Point-and-Click For Fun Ministries, all in hope that something will lead somewhere. I'm currently operating under the philosophy that I wouldn't know where things will lead to until I start them. So here's hoping one or some of these will catch on.
These are hard times we live in. But in hardship lies opportunity.... somewhere. Adin once said, "In the rushing currents of the river of life, the good news is there is always an island of opportunity. The bad news is, if you miss it you're pretty much screwed." But I need that opportunity. Die quietly or die fighting. I think the choice is a no-brainer.
Today as I was chillin' out with Lucko and throwing random thoughts at each other, he said "There's nothing solid to hold on to but God these days." Unknown to him, I recently re-discovered Creed. So in relation to those two facts, I'll let Scott Stapp has the last word for tonight:
Please come now!
I think I'm falling,
holding on to all I think is safe
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