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.