Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Fart-Around Time

What genius came up with the idea that days should have but four-and-twenty hours? And furthermore, was it the same fellow who thought that I should be overcome with the need to sleep for almost a third of those hours? What a twit that guy was.

I lament my lack of time not because I have so much to do and so little time to do it, but rather because I have so little time in which I get to do nothing important whatsoever. My fart-around time, if you will. I have this thing on my computer (or rather, Mandy's computer, because it works on hers but not mine - but the thing itself is mine) called GarageBand. You Mac users out there have probably heard of this. You use it to make songs. I have an electric guitar. With GarageBand I can plug my guitar into the computer and record it. And then I can use the computer to make drums, or a piano, or whatever the hell I want. I can write and record songs that I make up. I have, in fact, recorded a couple already. I think they sound sort of Pixies-ish, but that may be because I'd been listening to the Pixies a lot when I made them.

The songs are terrible. I know that. And I didn't make them for other people to hear anyway. It's not something I take seriously. I just find it relaxing. And it gives me a small thrill when I'm using the Shuffle Songs option on my iPod and one of them pops up. I just think it's kinda cool.

The problem is that recording a song, even a simple one with just a couple of chords and changes, takes a long-ass time. I mean like weeks. At least, it takes ME weeks. I find that I need to record the same riff a couple dozen times before I get a take that doesn't sound like I accidentally bumped my guitar with a garden tool. And then I need to create a drum track, which is meticulous work, and usually I create a bass track as well, which is almost as meticulous. If I owned a bass guitar as well it would make things a little easier, but I don't, and I don't take it seriously enough to actually save up several hundred dollars to buy one. Hell, the electric guitar I've got now is borrowed.

This is such a lame thing to write about. I don't know why I'm even bothering, except that I haven't posted anything up here in a few weeks. I wish I had something more interesting to comment on. Sorry.

Anyway, my point is, if days were longer, or if I didn't feel the need to sleep as much, I'd have more spare time. Would I do anything of value with this spare time? Hell, no! I'd spend it plugged into GarageBand. Not very productive, I know. But I think I would be a much more relaxed person, and therefore more capable of handling the various tasks and challenges that make up the rest of my day.

Or, maybe I'd just starting posting blogs that whine about how twenty-six-hour days aren't long enough, why can't they be twenty-eight? Or thirty? I find that my fart-around time grows more and more precious to me as I get older.

If only I could teleport to and from work. That would free up at least an hour and a half per day right there.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Call Me 'Rev'

So, Happy New Year, everybody. I hope you all had an exciting evening of drunken debauchery. (I know some of you had a little more drunken debauchery than others. Hah? Hah? Am I right? Am I right? Hah?)

I debauched nothing, and I was only a little drunk. I was too busy being puffed up by my own self-importance whilst officiating my friends Dan and Vicky's wedding. It went off without a hitch. Or rather, one hitch, that being Dan and Vicky. Getting hitched. Get it? Oh, never mind.

Really, though, the ceremony was awesome, an only partly because I rule. It took place at Live Bait Theatre, which is a small, intimate theater space. The bride and groom had three attendants each, and all six of them gave small readings that they each wrote themselves. There was an equal amount of laughing and crying. The best man, Dan's brother Robb, brought the house down with a poem about Legos. You had to be there. I was proud of my own work -- I managed to work in references to seventh-century Druidic pagans, Shakespeare, and Vanilla Ice. Again, you had to be there, or at least know Dan and Vicky to understand how appropriate this was.

The reception was a good time, also. The happy couple picked every song that was played, so we were not forced to suffer through the Macarena, or anything that might be defined as "Country Western," or "Adult Contemporary." The food was awesome, and yet was perhaps my only complaint as well, because it took an immense amount of willpower to get off my fat ass and dance after eating. I really felt like I should just unbutton my pants and find a couch and a TV with a football game on it.

But dance I did. Mandy and I cut a rug like nobody's business. I was quite thoroughly sweaty and disgusting by the time the party ended. We had a lovely champagne toast at midnight, which was immediately followed by Me First & the Gimme Gimmes' rendition of "Auld Lang Syne," which, if you are at all familiar with that band, pretty much sums up the night.

The trek home was something of an adventure. The reception took place way the hell out by Midway Airport, which is basically the opposite end of the city from where Mandy and I live. We'd asked the staff at the reception hall to call a cab for us, but being New Year's Eve, available cabs were thin on the ground. In the end, one of the staff ended up driving Mandy and myself, along with another couple, over to Midway, where we snagged a cab out of the arrivals line. We spent the ride back discussing the Bears' playoff prospects, which means that a good time was had by all.