Getting Back on the Horse

Writer's Note: Okay, I have officially given up my attempt, as many have already known, to have 100 posts in 100 days. Looking back at this endeavor, I think that I took on a project that I obviously wasn't able to comprehend and take on. My procrastination even effected my willingness to continue blogging; but now I am going to swallow my pride and just start over.

My previous post dealt with my ordeal of getting back into practicing my trumpet. My experience, so far, has been great; I think that I needed to practice my trumpet in order to re-organize my life. During the last week, I haven't really been able to sit down to do anything, much less practice. I am starting to have withdrawals. 

Because of this experience, I really need to think about organizing my schedule around to include activities that are relaxing. At this point, I run, bike, read, or practice for relaxation. Nonetheless, I want to reorganize my schedule without going too overboard; meaning, I don't want to live-or-die by my schedule because I understand that Life happens that will force me to reschedule my time. A permanent, yet flexible, schedule is hard to establish; there are only a limited amount of hours during the week. 

Another aspect that is making my practicing difficult is the lack of practice material. The freshness of my practice regime is way past its due date. I need to freshen it up or just suck it up or a combination of both. Because of monetary reasons, it will be a couple of months before I invest in advance and specific trumpet methods that may benefit my development. 

I have a lot on my plate and I hope to chronicle it on this blog. Everything that pertains to music, I will have my reflections on Mariachilip.blogspot.com. 

I will keep you posted...

Music: Rediscovering the Trumpet

Day 25 Post 12

The trumpet has always been a part of my life. When I was born, my father gave me a small-sized trumpet as a toy. During my youth, I really don't remember a time where performing wasn't a part of my life. As an adult, I have lost my musical creativity. I was too preoccupied in trivial affairs that I lost focus on what makes me happy. 

This past weekend, I decided to once again begin my trumpet studies anew. I was a bit nervous because I haven't practiced--truly practiced my instrument--in years. I decided long ago to settle as a week-end warrior musician because I couldn't put in the time that was necessary to become a professional musician. It's funny, I look at my return to music like that of an athlete, well past his prime, and a couple of years removed from professional sports, deciding to return to the professional ranks. 

However, as the soft piano middle C note introduced itself to my cold apartment, I was welcomed back by my trumpet for the extended respite without judgement. These past couple of days, I awoken already wanting to practice or write music. As the brilliant Forest Gump once said, my trumpet and I were 'like peas and carrots, again." I will keep everyone posted.

Morning Dog Walks

Day 22 Post 11

Every morning, my dogs--Sadie and Shubie--wait patiently as I wake-up, in order to take them outside for their daily walk. Sometimes, I have to set limits with them or else I run the risk of having to wake-up at Five o'clock am every day. Seven am is usually the time that I take them outside to do their business. 

They have gotten quite efficient at our little ritual every morning. When I wake-up, Sadie and Shubie are still sleeping--although I think that they know that I have just awoken and are just playing coy. It is only when I enter my bedroom with their dog leashes that both of them become actively, wanting to go outside with so muck alacrity. 

Once outside, they know our route by-heart--we usually go toward the parking lot and settle on a small patch of grass, on the corner of a small side street and one of the apartment's parking lot. In that grassy area, Sadie and Shubie usually just 'go number one,' unless they have to urgently have to use the restroom. Then, as a sort of conclusion to our daily escapade, both--sometimes simultaneously--relieve themselves of "number two" and kick-up large chunks--relative to their sizes--of lawn before wanting to head towards the apartment. Sometimes I feel as if they have me trains, as opposed to the other way around. 

Man v Dog: Shubie's Revenge

Day 21 Post 10

Okay, Shubie and I have an interesting relationship. She is one of the sweetest, loving, and loyal dogs around, apparently with other people because she never seems to agree with me. Originally, I wouldn't have classified our relationship as a rivalry, since she never really beat me head-to-head. However, Shubie is a master-manipulator and she has found a way to influence my wife to advocate on her behalf. I have come to mind my surroundings to see if my wife is in the vicinity. If she is present, forget about it. Shubie and I cannot battle amongst ourselves. 

Our battles include her ignoring my commands as I take her out for a walk, feeding, and hygiene. Shubie escapes every time I try to give her a bath. Whenever she hears the water running, in our apartment, she bolts underneath a bed or behind some article of furniture. She demands patience. If I don't give it to her, Shubie usually becomes fidgety and unresponsive. All that being said, I do give her some slack because I understand that she is only a year and a half, and because she is still learning or at least attempting to learn. 

My Youth: Reliving the Past

Day 21 Post 9 

**Writer's note: Obviously, I don't need to explain myself. It is now day 21 of "100 Blogs in 100 Days," and I am slowly falling behind. I have no excuses. Now, I am going to refocus and think about new themes to write about.**

Lately, the "Charlie Brown" cartoons have consumed my thoughts for the last week; and even perhaps more than time that. Somehow, whenever I watch one of episodes that I have seen in my childhood, I get transported back to that time in my life. It is as if my clouded memory of the past clears, as if realizing the importance of my retracing the past. Is it simply the retracing of my past?  Perhaps I am just wanting to remember a happy time in youth that I have long since forgotten--I would just like to state for the record that I am very content with my life and present situation. 

Well, back to "Charlie Brown," those cartoons are still fun to watch. Chuck and Peppermint Patty's lop-sided battle on the baseball diamond is hilarious, peppered with witty and concise humor. Each character is unique and yet so complimentary with the others making the simplicity of the cartoon's animation veil its innovation. Today, rarely do I hear about a cartoon show that is worth watching, especially since most 'innovative' cartoons are usually loaded with sexual innuendos, for the most part. The great Jazz music, now that is another post in the making. 

Being Sick Sucks

Day 16 Post 8

I don't think anyone likes being truly sick. Many people, have one time or another, played 'hooky' from school, work, or other responsibilities by saying that one is ill and not feeling well. When it really happens, it isn't any fun. For the last three days, I have been in and out of consciousness, locked in my apartment and not going farther that a five-feet radius from my bed. Bronchitis is no joke. 

On the first day that I admitted being sick, I must confess, I took advantage of all the attention that was placed on me. My wife made sure that I was well taken care of; and I made sure that I praised her effort. However, after day three, I began suffering from boredom. To curb this feeling, I tried to write music, taking my time and making sure that everything that I notated was correct. The only hinderance to this plan was a constant pounding on my temples while writing. I couldn't think, write or do anything worthwhile. 

Now I am just trying to relieve the dull pain by writing about them. I don't know if this is going to work because I just feel like I am rambling along without any clear thought--that may be the case with all my blogs. On the other hand, my dogs have been real nice and patient with me. They have postponed their daily morning walk and restroom break from 6 AM to 9 AM. However, if I take too long in waking-up or getting out of bed, Sadie and Shubie make sure that I hear their restlessness. We'll see what happens over the next three days.

Finale: My Thoughts

Day 14 Post 7

**Writer's note: I just returned from a doctor's office visit. It turns out that I have bronchitis that was passed along to me by my beautiful wife. I am not blaming her for getting me sick because that would be unfair. After all, now she has no choice but to take care of me; and I like being taken care of.**

I really enjoy writing music. There is something about looking at a blank piece of sheet music and trying to formulate a new composition. I don't consider myself a great arranger or composer because I have a lot of things I need to learn when it comes to music theory and composition. 

It has been, at least, two years since I have written any music. Honestly, I am very rusty at composition; and to make matters worst, I am using a new system to write my music. For example, I take a crack at transcribing and arranging, what I thought to be, an easy song ('Cuando Calienta El Sol). After figuring out the commands with alternate notation and buttons, it took me all morning to complete my task. Usually, at the height of my writing, a song would take me no more than an hour and a half. It has been three days since I have had access to Finale. 

Now I am starting to get a hang of writing music and am starting to systematically create a new music catalogue that will be accessible to music students at different experience levels. One thing that I am constantly trying push-through is the fact that writing music can be a lonely thing. I can easily spend all day writing music. Currently, I am making an effort to step-back from my writing to do something else. I will keep you posted. 

Los Bukis: A Guilty Pleasure

Day 13 Post 6

I don't know why but I really enjoy listening to Los Bukis. Unfortunately, they are now longer together so I have to be content with listening to them on my ipod. It's weird to have this unexplained connection with this group. It wouldn't surprise me to find out that Marco Antonio Solis's--the group's lead singer--vocal chords are basted with a chemical agent that is released whenever he sings, intoxicating the listener and brainwashing them to buy more Los Bukis albums--it would be awesome if that were true. 

I guess I have ties with this group because of my uncle. I remember him coming home one day--when I was about ten or eleven years old--and he brought home a Bukis CD. When I played the first track, my imagination went into overdrive. I can still remember clearly, the intro to the first song was extremely simple yet amazing in its simplicity. Internally, I think I was giving the composer some props because it was so beautiful. Interestingly, I currently don't own that album or song. I have always wanted to get it but I haven't gotten around to it just yet. If anyone out there owns this album, please forward it to me. 

If Garfield was a Dog, He would be called Tito

Day 11 Post 5

Tito is a very heavy, big-boned, hypo-thyroid, and fat dog. In his defense, he doesn't mean to be fat. I guess to be more specific, Tito is not the type of dog that finds every opportunity to eat anything and everything in its sight on (well, Tito doesn't miss an opportunity to lick a stray drop of chicken marinade off of the tile floor). He and I have been rooming together for little more than two years and I can honestly say that we never knowingly give him, or any of our other dogs, human food. 

Even though he is chunky, Tito is surprisingly nimble and quite agile. Sometimes, while sitting on my recliner, I see Tito staring at our couch. From the floor to the top of the couch cushion is about 24 inches in height. By his worried face, I guessed that he wanted to get on the couch to lounge about--his favorite pastime. Usually, if my wife or my sister are here in the apartment, seeing Tito wanting to get on the couch, would assist him--most of the time with both hands and knees slightly bent to avoid any back strain--onto the couch. I, however, wanted him to work for it. After about five minutes of tense silence between Tito and I, Tito decided to get on the couch on his own.

Tito stepped back slightly, giving himself more room to maneuver and then started to bend his back legs up and down as if pumping a pressure cannon. After about fifteen pumps, his stubby cannon hind legs exploded from the floor and catapulted him onto the couch. In mid-flight, Tito was thinking that he over-pumped his legs because he had over shot his landing. As his faced was scraped off the backrest of the couch, Tito shook the imaginary water from his body and nestled himself quietly on the corner of the couch. 

Little Brothers: No Manual Necessary

Day 11 Post 4

Update: Man. I can't believe that it has been this long since I last posted on blogger. Also, I am aware that I am way behind my goal of 100 post in 100 hundred days--so what, I am a couple of posts behind, no big deal. Well, over the last couple of days, I have been suffering a small bout with a cold-like bug. As it stands at this point, I think I have seen the worst of the illness and I think I am starting to feel better. 

I am writing because of my recent experience with my younger brothers, both equally confusing, energetic, and loyal little teenagers. I rarely get a chance to see them; and when I do, it is usually for a day or a couple of hours. I have come to think about our relationship in two lights: they either respect me and my opinions about their life and conduct with others or they amuse me by listening to my rants in order to get favors from me. Now, I think that our relationship of the former than that of the latter; however, I have made peace with the slight chance that my brothers are using me for their own benefit. Largely, with everyone else, my brothers are uncontrollable and rude. With me, they may act out but I am don't allow their actions dictate my actions. I have taken a gamble with them: I have let my action speak louder than my words. So far, they have reacted positively with my approach towards them. 

Nonetheless, now whenever I have to challenge and agitate my brothers to do something for my mother or a family relative, they are able to accept it--even if they sometimes due tend to state false objections toward the task. To be quite honest, I don't know how long my little brothers are going to keep respecting me as an authority figure. On the other hand, I don't know how long I want to be that authority-type figure in their lives. One time, sooner or later, they are going to grow up to be young adults in this society. 

Flavored Water: Tastes Better Than Regular Water

Day 2 Post 3

All day today I had a craving for 'something sweet.' Don't get me wrong, I enjoy drinking regular water, and I was doing so up until that point, while daydreaming about Kool-aid and other flavor supplements added to water. I guess I just need a change from the monotony of regular, Brita-filtered, H20. At home, I had the option of brewing my own tea to make iced-tea; nonetheless, the idea of washing the tea kettle, waiting for the water to boil, hoping for there to be enough ice to officially call the drink iced-tea, came to equate too much time for me. I mean why spend my time making a beverage for myself when I could use that time doing nothing (hmm, what a dilemma). So I decided to go after the pre-package stuff instead. 

In reality, the time that I spent driving to the store, find the product, finalize the decision, wait in line, drive home, and prepare the beverage, I would've already finished making the iced-tea--live and let learn I guess. All and all, I was able to get m flavored water, and trust me, I savored every single drop of my fruit punch Kool-aid with the alacrity of a 4th grader becoming the first one to make it through the playground's gauntlet of monkey bars. 

Curanderismo: Agree or Not Agree

Day 2 Post 2 

I have been thinking a lot about my family and mysticism. As a child, whenever anyone of us--my brother, sister, and myself--would get sick, my mother would come up with some strange mestizo concoction from her herbal medical corner in the kitchen. Internally, I would always wonder about the validity and potency of my mother's remedies. I wouldn't know if it was my youthful immunity, rest, a miracle, or the actual herbal remedy itself that eventually made me feel better. In the end, I really never gave my mother's curandera medicine any real credit for my wellness. 

My relatives, on the other hand, would travel from all over California to have my mother 'heal' them. Uncles, Aunts, and cousins would ask my mother to cure anything from pink eye to herbal messages--I think that my mother even gave one of my cousin's stitches before because he decided to use his face as a baseball mitt. Afterwards, when my relatives would leave for the evening, I would always give my mother a hard time about giving people medical help and advice. Instead of getting upset, I remember my mother, with English heavily laced with a Spanish accent, telling me, 'mira mijo, people come to me because they know me and have faith that what I do may work for them.'

She could've sat down everyday, after every visit, while having people visibly improve, and I would still be unconvinced. I was unconvinced. Ever since that time, I would unconsciously detached myself from my Mexican culture, as it pertained to Curanderismo. I would detach myself from my relatives when this mystical subject would come up during a family discussion. It came to the point that my family wouldn't even bring it up in front of me. They were unable to talk about the 'C' word when I was around. It wasn't until I opened up to alternative medince--I guess, more specifically, started to due some research--I started to see the validity to herbal remedies. However, I still have told my mother that yet--I don't want her to gloat just yet. 

100 Posts In 100 Days: Or Die--Well, Possibly Develop Carpel Tunnel Syndrome--Trying

Day 1 Post 1

For the next 100 days, I am going write--more than likely ramble--100 new posts. I don't know how I am going to do it; however, I am excited about this endeavor. My sub-conscious probably wanted to try something new outside of my daily routine. I don't want to place a word limit to these posting, on the other hand, I also don't want insignificantly brief posts to count as Actual posts on this or any other of my blogs. Oh, BTW, not only am I going to write 100 new posts on this Blog, the goal is extended to my other blogs as well (so in total, the end result will be...I don't want to even think about it, yet).

I keep telling myself that I need to take it one day at a time and one post at a time. As I am writing this, Sadie looks up at me, half grinning, as if to say, "dad, you're crazy; but because you feed me, I still love you." I think the only person that is giving me support is Shubie (as I am typing, she is excessively, and neurotically licking my left hand). Well, here goes nothing. 

A-Rod: The Steroid Era's Great Brown Hope

It's funny how everyone is making a big deal about his steroid use. Are his numbers tainted? Is his legacy stained beyond repair? No. How old is he again? A-Rod is 33 yrs old; and I really think that he has many years of playing left--he is still in his prime after all. Also, we need to think about the environment in which A-Rod was in when he decided to use steroids. 

In 2001, assuming that the majority of Baseball player's were using some form of performance enhancing drugs--and as we are starting to find out this assumption is being validated as fact quite rapidly, A-Rod saw the results of players like Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmero, players whose best years were definitely behind them, still continue to be productive. Entering the first year of his record breaking contract, his decision to use steroids or any other performance-enhancing drugs was a mere formality. 

A-Rod took his organization's lack of regulating 'performance-enhancing' products as a sign for him to do whatever was necessary to produce his MVP quality numbers, helping increase attendance, boost revenue, and widen their market. Alex, for better or for worst, represents the need for the MLB to create progressive systemic changes that would hold not only the player accountable but the organization as well. 

Dogs Really Do Know How to Bug You

I say this with complete honesty and without maliciousness. Today, my smallest dog--in age not size--Shubie, decides not to wait for her master to take her outside to use "number one." No, little miss sunshine decides to get down to business behind my sofa (I want to state for the record that I always try to allow my pets many opportunities to alleviate themselves outside). It wasn't until the absorption of hot urine by my sock that I realized her treachery.

What was her reaction when I gave her the "mean eye?" She just looks at me blankly, with a shivering and submissive posture. Who can stay mad at that?