New Rule: The Ordinary Rules

Haven't posted here for a very long time.

Most of my useful computer time for the past month or so has been focused on getting my recording studio rearranged, up and functional again, then getting work done for a very patient client.

Or I've been distracting myself from the frustration of the studio rearrange by endlessly checking email or Facebook, or reading news online, or reading other peoples blogs, or indulging in random websurfing.

For some reason I'd gotten all self-conscious about always needing to say something here that would be super meaningful, which sort of misses the point of living the Quiet Little Life--that meaning is found in the ordinary.

So I'm back, to resume writing about the ordinary stuff of daily life.

And I resolve to post here even if it feels vacuous to do so.

I hereby give myself permission to be banal, insipid, stilted, awkward, or . . . whatever else it is I'm afraid of being.

I absolve myself of guilt if I write but don't include illustrating photographs. Similarly, I intend to remain guilt free when photos appear without annotation.

Whose blog is this anyway?

Who made up all these rules about how it's supposed to be done?

Oops. I did. Or at least I bought into them.

I'm an artist, darn it! I live the creative life, right? Why can't I uncreate rules--especially the ones saying that things always have to be fancy-pants, intensely interesting or . . . (gasp) creative?

Today, I rip away the ratty old cardboard rule-box, step beyond its stale confines, and begin again.

New Rule: The Ordinary Rules.

INTENTION: Mid-Winter Stirrings

The snow is falling outside today.

Inside I've taking steps to plant the things I'd like to see begin to grow this Spring. Nothing particularly exciting, really. Like the first unseen stirrings of seeds and sap beneath the frozen earth, the actions I've taken are mundane though crucial to what I hope will follow.

Yesterday, I installed Adobe Photoshop 7.0 on my iMac--my primary computer now--and began doing graphics work there instead of on my old Mac laptop.

The addition of a title image (header) at the top of this blog is one result. The other is a similar new header on my Sound Krayons Music blog.

[In the past, I've only had an early version of Photoshop installed on my old Mac laptop. It was cumbersome to edit images there then move them over to the new Mac for use on the web and in documents. This upgrade opens up new creative and business possibilities, things I've been hoping to do for a long time. The old Mac is too old to connect easily with the internet.]

Then today, I successfully transferred a song file for the first time from MOTU Performer on my old Mac to Digital Performer (DP) on my iMac.

[Again, I'd done all my MIDI work in the past on the old Mac without the benefit of digital audio available in DP. After some trial and error, I was able to move the files from the old Mac by doing a "Save As" MIDI to a flash drive first, then opening in DP on the iMac and doing a "Save As" a DP file to the desktop did the trick.]

Blah, blah, blah technical stuff...

Like the big bale of seed starting mix I bought yesterday and hauled from the car to barn this morning, now I'll need to move all my old graphics and Performer files from one computer to another before I can use them in this new environment.

This sort of thing--to my mind--is the dry, lifeless part of the creative process.

I get discouraged because this part of the process seems to come so slowly. I thought to myself, yesterday, as I scooped buckets of compressed potting soil from the bale and dumped them into an empty trash can:

Are this year's flower and vegetable seeds planted and growing yet? No.

Are the recycled pots from last year cleaned and ready to set in the sunny spot? No.

Do I have everything I need to get things going? No.

But today I have made one very small dent in a very long process.

One small bucketful at a time. Peat moss fibers flying in the air landing on my skin, smelling fresh earth for the first time since last fall. These are the tangible promises of things to come.

No guarantee that weather or pests or health will cooperate in the months ahead, but on this one day for this short time I've done my part.

Similarly, there is no guarantee that I'll reach my distant creative goals, but on this one day for this short time I've done my part.

With these small, unglamorous efforts--work on my computers solving one small problem at a time, repetitive work to prepare for planting--the things I visualize creating and sharing will have some chance to flourish.

One small bucketful at a time.

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

Sharpie Luggage

2 hours to wait in an airport + 1 silver sharpie marker + 1 cheap carry on bag = TADA! Art on Wheels

Would have done more but the sharpie was already mostly used up and ran out of ink. Will pack a fresh one for next time.

As it was, I so focused on what I was doing that I nearly missed the boarding call for my plane.

While I worked (played), the public address system intoned repeatedly:

"Attention airline passengers. Increased security measures require that all passengers maintain close personal contact with their items at all times. Unattended items will be promptly removed by law enforcement personnel. Additionally, report all suspicious items or activities immediately to airport personnel. Your safety is our priority."

Close personal contact with my items? Hmmm.

Though I certainly was attentive to my carry-on bag, did this qualify as a suspicious activity?

Got some funny looks as I sat on the floor scribbling on my bag, but no one reported me.

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

Turntable Turns the Tables on Time

I've just returned from a trip to California for a family visit and work on a special project.

I dug into the stacks of old 45s, 78s and LPs we listened to as kids.

Took my ION portable USB turntable and converted childhood memories into digital audio files (wav and m4a), complete with all the nostalgic crackle, pop and hiss. We played those records by the hour, way back when.

The turntable is durable and lightweight, fit easily into my carry-on bag, raised no eyebrows passing through airport security, and was easy to set-up when I arrived.

When I got back, I found an amazing website that has dozens of Kiddie Records and their associated artwork (jackets, books, etc.) from the mid 1940's through early 1950's available for free download.

[I should make it clear that I wasn't around to hear these records when they were new. They belonged first to my older brothers, my parents and grandparents--already scratched and well loved by the time I came along.]

What does all this have to do with the creative process or living a more contented life?

It's all about reclaiming the vividness of happy childhood memories.

Creative art making is dependent upon the ability to tap into childlike playfulness and curiosity at will. What better way to access this mindset than to revisit joyful times from ones distant personal past?

For me, the pull of these old recordings was irresistible. As I played them I found myself wearing an unsuppressible smile. I finally had to get up and gave in to the urge to dance around.

For me, living a contented life is all about enjoying what is. Happy memories from my childhood are things that will always be mine to enjoy. They cost nothing and offer a guaranteed high.

They also have the added benefit of helping to free my creative work in the present.

When I revisit the things I enjoyed as a 5-year-old it becomes impossible for me to take myself or anything else too seriously. This sort of time travel enables me to approach my art with the spontaneity and fearlessness I felt back then. I can transport those feelings into the here-an-now on the scratchy strains from an old 45.

Now if you'll, please, excuse me. I'm going to go listen again to my favorite well-worn recording of "I'm a Little Teapot," then the "Hukilau" song, followed Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians playing "Stumbling" (link to an original piano roll MIDI file).

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

2009 Intentions

Things that are calling to me for 2009, in no particular order:

• learn to bake bagels
• record the next CD
• finish the garden fence and arbor
• plant lots of flowers and veggies, and enjoy them
• get a first draft of the writing project done
• be healthy
• bake lots of bread and desserts (not mutually exclusive with the previous item)
• have adventures
• sit and do nothing more
• sing and play
• make stuff
• read
• listen
• digest
• live in gratitude
• love and do good where I can
• love and let go where I can't
• breath

More:

• continue to reduce my ecological footprint through ECO ACTIONS

ECO ACTION: Disconnecting / Reconnecting

The photo I took earlier today of the cables under the desk in my studio, shows that there's a lot left to do to finish "disassembling all the recording and audio equipment."

With an eye toward conservation, I've decided to rearrange all the electrical connections in the studio, too.

The goal is to eliminate the unnecessary consumption of electricity used in standby mode when the computers, printers, and music gear are off. (AKA all those little glowing power lights that make the studio look like Christmas even after I've turned everything off and flipped the light switch at the end of the day.)

The solution is to put segments of the studio on separate power strips with ON/OFF switches, to be turned on only when needed.

• one power strip for the studio equipment I use for teaching and my own practicing/songwriting activities
• one power strip for the computer and frequently used peripherals
• one power strip for my recording equipment
• one power strip--that stays on all the time--for my studio phone/answering machine and cellphone charger

That ought to do it.

I can't stop using electricity and still record my music, but I can reduce what I consume. This is one step toward making my music studio/office more eco-friendly.

Time Between Years

Each year for the past several I've taken the week between Christmas and New Years to dive into the process of cleaning and reorganizing my studio, and other parts of the house, with an eye toward what I envision accomplishing in the coming year.

It's always a time of reflection, a shifting of energy from past ways of being and doing toward ways that are a better fit for where the new year finds me and where I hope it will take me.

This is one of the few times of year when I don't have music students coming and going on a daily basis, or weekly rehearsals in our home with the 20 or more kids in our ensemble. I'm able to shift my focus from helping others define and achieve their goals toward looking at and working toward my own, without distractions.

It's always a relaxed, playful and intense time.

Here are some of the results from previous years:

Little New Year's Things - JAN 2006

Time Between Years - DEC 2006

Don't know what I did between Christmas and New Years last year at this time (12/07-1/08). Maybe I'll dig back and see if I can figure that out.

This past year has been a bit of a bumpy ride, with the bumpy bits that I hope will not repeat in the year ahead, or any other for that matter. 4 months of less than optimal health, plus another encounter with the darker side of the human condition, are things to be left in the past, if at all possible.

We don't always get to choose what happens to us, but we can choose to continue making plans and working to make them real. I'm actively choosing to move forward into the coming year, making my plans based on the likely assumption that these difficult things won't repeat in 2009.

And even if they do, or some other challenges come along, well ... here I am anyway. And here are the ones I love and the life we have together.

Here's to making life simpler.

Here's to enjoying what is.

Started last night disassembling all the recording and audio equipment in my studio, to be simplified and rearranged.

I've removed the things I no longer use (maybe never used) and the things that have worn out or broken from frequent use (an old amplifier, a CD changer/player and a cassette tape deck), and have begun to arrange the few things needed for my new set up in a way that will make for easier work flow. And maybe some actual recordings.

Between each thing that gets moved or removed there's pausing, looking, thinking, wiping up dust and grime, imagining whether this is the best way.

It's hard work to rearrange.

I'm trying to keep in mind that "good enough" and done is far better than the perpetual struggle for an ideal "best" that's forever incomplete. (Same goes for the editing/re-editing of this blog post.)

Now, back to it.

Powering down. Disconnecting.

Reconnecting in a new way. Powering back up again.