Redundant Paradox

No Mission Accomplished in Portland

2008-10-01T22:49:00.004-06:00

It's that time of year again, when I get all excited and nervous at the same time, get on a plane, jet to exotic locations around North America, bust the old bassoon out of its case, sit by myself on a stage in front of judges that are hiding behind a screen, and audition for an orchestral job.

And not get called back.

Yup. Just did it again, this time in beautiful Portland, Oregon. No kidding. That's a nice place. Scenic. Clean. Mild climate. Electric trains. The Columbia River. A principal bassoon job with the local orchestra that paid well.

I decided I wanted it. So did 79 other bassoonists. Bet you're amazed that 80 bassoonists existed in the U.S. I'm amazed myself.

And, no, I didn't get called back. I'm beginning to get annoyed with this audition process thing. It seems to me that, for every shiny new bassoon player to pop out of a university, ready to play, that there should be a great job waiting in some orchestra somewhere within a 1000 mile radius. Is that too much to ask?

So, how do you find something good to talk about when you just struck out in your fifth audition in one year? Here's something: I played at a new level at this audition. I went in and played all the music like I know I've been able to this whole time, and yet so far haven't. Every past audition, I can look back and say, "yeah, it was pretty good except for this," or "the notes were all there, but there was a couple tuning things..." This time, I can look back and say, "I played at my absolute best and presented me as a bassoonist exactly like I knew I could." I was very pleased with my audition. I gave the judges no stupid reason to not call me back. They did, nevertheless, find one anyway.

So, now, I'm left to consider other reasons. Did they not like the interpretations of the pieces? Did they not like my sound? Did they not think I would fit into their existing bassoon section? Who knows?

And that's my good thing that happened in a bad situation: Now I know I can go play those excerpts when it counts. No dumb mistakes. No tuning issues. Now I just need to go do that again a few times, and then we'll see what happens.

Bassoon Blogging on Scroggles

2008-09-08T10:09:00.004-06:00

I decided to start posting about playing the ol' bassoon over at Scroggles.

For heart stopping stories about reeds, performing and slow practicing, tune it to the bassoon posts right here!

To check out the rest of my other blog, click here.

Digressions Blog Update

2008-09-01T21:25:00.004-06:00

To those who are even dimly aware that I keep another blog elsewhere, "Digressions and Other Inconsistencies", I am happy to say that the blogging platform used for it has been switched to WordPress, a very nice blogging platform which brings a lot more power and ease of use than the previous b2evolution platform we were using. This has caused the links to change ever so slightly.

The new link: http://digressions.scroggles.com
The new RSS feed link: http://digressions.scroggles.com/feed

Thank you, and Merry Christmas.

Unflinching Mic

2008-08-19T13:56:00.004-06:00

I really don't like recording myself, although I can see I need to do it more often.

I recorded myself playing the first movement of the Mozart Concerto and all of my excerpts yesterday. I hate recording myself, because when I listen to the playback, I am forced out of my little fantasy world where I heard what I wanted to hear, and confronted with the actual sound waves that came out of my bassoon, and pummeled the microphone on my Mac.

Results? First and foremost, I found out the standard rule of expression always applies to my playing: You have to exaggerate whatever you want to be heard by someone else, or they will never hear it. Any time I thought I was playing over the top robust, or with great dynamic range, it always came back as "kinda loud" or "sort of crescendoed". Also, some slight droops in pitch came across right in the middle C to E range. I'm hoping that's the newness of the reed I used talking, but good to realize that problem, regardless. Technique came across pretty darn clean, actually. My ever present rushing seems to be beaten down for now, at least.

Overall, not bad. Not going to win me a gig in, say, Portland with that playing, but it's coming along. The audition for the one year principal spot in Colorado Springs is coming up at the end of this month. I'm hoping to have a decent shot at that. We'll see.

So, lessons learned: Exaggerate! Play in tune! Or, as a friend of mine always use to jokingly put it, "Just play all the right notes and don't choke. That's all there is to it."

Words to live by.

New Blogger Feature

2008-08-15T12:07:00.004-06:00

Found a feature of Blogger, called "Blogger Play", that lets you add a gadget which displays a simple slideshow of the photos being uploaded to blogger. I decided to add it to my blog. Check the lower right hand side.

Fascinating just to sit and watch random pictures flip by.

Time Out!

2008-08-14T16:31:00.003-06:00

You know, the Fast Food Feed Bag video from the Onion was a funny post. That, however, was posted on July 1, and it's only so funny so many times. So, I guess I'll give you something else to read, in the form of me talking about myself. If you'd rather see more Onion videos, you're invited to go check them out here!

Thanks, those of you who are still here. I would have probably gone to the Onion site, by now.

Anyway, not much happened over the summer. Went to Phoenix, but you already knew that. Then drove up to Ridgway, Colorado to visit my pregnant sister, her husband, and their now given-away-to-other-friendly-homes dogs. (That had something to do with a 1 bedroom apartment, two big dogs, and a baby on the way, I think.) Came home. Went to Durango, Colorado a few weeks later to visit my parents. Came home.

Been practicing the excerpt list for the Oregon Symphony audition, which is coming up at the end of September. It's a principal audition, which means a) I'm practicing a much different set of music than my previous auditions and b) I probably have even less of a chance of getting this gig. The good news is, the excerpts are actually coming right along. Maybe I'll put in a good showing in Portland.

I composed my own cadenza to the Mozart Concerto, first movement. Thought it turned out decent, though I reserve the right to (most likely) modify or ditch it completely some time in the future.

I couldn't talk about bassoon and not talk about reeds. Been making lots more lately. Have a pretty good "starter stock pile" for the next few months. I'm starting to see why Dr. Ishikawa likes the Australian cane that I ordered on his recommendation. They last a really long time. Most of my reeds from my May auditions are still kicking - and not old man shuffling, either. I'm talking high-flying, roundhouse karate kicking. I'm really quite impressed. None of my old reeds ever lasted close to this long. Of course, this cane seems to take at least twice as long to break in properly, but I think it's worth it.

"Say, Kent," you must be saying. "You have a misleading title to your post that has nothing to do with reeds!" Don't rush me! I was just getting to that!

So, what is the title of the post referring to? That would be the name of the program that CU offers that lets students in good standing take up to a year off of school without sacrificing your position when you come back. It is, unfortunately, the direction I'm headed for at least a semester, as I will most likely not be going back to CU at the end of the month.

The reason for this? Money! As in, none! The university was more than happy to take lots of my cash last year. When I have none left for school this year, they seem okay with that, too. Apparently, the bassoon studio has enough good players, so they don't seem all that upset to see me go. I asked for aid. They said they'd see what they could do. That was a couple weeks ago. Haven't heard from them since.

You know why I'm not that upset about this? One reason: Practice time! Do you know how much more time I'll have to work on just playing the bassoon over the next few months since I don't have to take any stinking grad school classes? On more than one occasion, I resented how much time away from the bassoon I spent writing papers and doing research last year. Now, I don't have to worry about that. Make reeds. Practice excerpts. That's all I have to do.

To those who think I'm not making any sense, I'll say this: I've always always wanted to be an orchestral player from the moment I picked up the bassoon. Teaching has never interested me that much - especially teaching at any sort of college. It just seems to me that a master's degree is aimed more at musicians who want to teach in some official academic capacity.

So, if I'm going to try to get a gig playing on the bassoon, I need to focus on playing the bassoon. If, in a couple years or so, I haven't landed a job, yet, or if I'm happily playing in a group but decide a degree would help down the road, I can certainly go back and finish.

Dr. Ishikawa has already said he would continue to teach me privately, and still give me access to the reed machines in the studio. Good news! I also have a pro bassoonist friend in Virginia who has offered to give me a sort of informal lesson, as well as introduce me to other bassoonists who he says are wonderful private teachers with great audition tips. Even better!

Ironically, at CU, even not going to school costs money. The Time Out program has a stupid application fee that I could certainly spend elsewhere. Oh well.

So, there you go. I don't post for more than a month, then I go on and on and on and on.

Now, all those who made it to the end, go watch a video on the Onion.

The Onion and Fast Food Feedbags

2008-07-01T15:35:00.001-06:00

New Wearable Feedbags Let Americans Eat More, Move Less

950. 15. 1. 113.

2008-06-21T17:48:00.006-06:00

No, I'm not giving you the secret IP Address of the coolest MP3 download site the web has ever seen. I'm actually telling you about yesterday in the simplest way possible. What better way is there to describe yesterday than just laying it out by the numbers? None comes to mind, so here they are:

950: The number of miles we drove yesterday to get from Boulder, Colorado to Phoenix, Arizona to visit family.
15: The number of hours it took to drive said distance.
1: The number of days we decided to take to get there. We may not do that too many more times.
113: The predicted temperature in Phoenix on the day of our arrival. It was in the 80's in Boulder.

That's a long drive to do in one day. I was beyond antsy rounding the mountain curves of I-17 during the home stretch from Flagstaff. At least we're stopping off in Ridgway, Colorado for a few days on the way back, just a mere 9 hours from Phoenix.

Here's to spending a few days in the company of family and friends, and experiencing absolutely world class air conditioning.

Sanitas Pics

2008-06-16T17:36:00.002-06:00

I warned you that I might post pictures of hiking Mt. Sanitas. Well, here you go. Weird to think about being on the last mountain before the land gets flat. Cool views. Check out the Denver skyline off in the distance in one of the shots.

(Click on any of the pictures to see it larger.)

At Least We're Stuck in Boulder

2008-06-09T10:22:00.003-06:00

True, no jobs were won in May, I'm still having to code - in Windows - to make a living, and Mindy has to drive 50 miles round trip to get to her job. Still stuck in Boulder.

The good news is, at least we're stuck in Boulder. Of all the places we've lived, Boulder is the most fascinating and satisfying mix of city and wilderness we've yet lived in. Our apartment is located right next to the Rocky Mountain foothills and the Flatirons range. I mean right next to. If we cross the street and head west, we start walking up hill.

Mindy and I went walking this morning, and saw two deer in the neighborhood. That's not that unusual. Neither is spotting a fox, or - perhaps a little more foreboding - a mountain lion or a black bear.

The Mt. Sanitas trailhead is a 1.7 mile long hike to a peak that provides spectacular views of the Colorado plains to the east, including, way off in the distance, downtown Denver, and snow capped peaks to the west. It's within walking distance of my front door. Next time I hike it (tomorrow, perhaps?), I'll take pictures and post them.

Less than a mile south of our place is downtown and Pearl Street, a pleasant outdoor mall with local stores and at least two great Mexican restaurants. Just a little further south is the Boulder Creek path, which pretty much spans the entire width of Boulder, and is a great place to bike, walk, or tube down. (Just on of those three options involves being in the creek instead of next to it. I'll let you guess which one.)

All sorts of different people live here, including the hippies, and ultra ultra green "we should all kill ourselves and let the deer live in peace" folk, but most people are friendly and get along.

A short drive to the north is Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park, with astounding vistas and great hikes. South of here is Denver, with all the culture and sports of any great city. And when you've had enough of the big city, you can come back to the relative quiet of Boulder.

When I get a job, I'll leave in a heartbeat. But I'll miss Boulder. And until then, I'll continue to really enjoy it.

(Other titles cosidered for this post: "Yay, Boulder", "Amazing What a Big Cup of Coffee Does to Your Attitude", or "Well, Yeah, but Will I Still Like Boulder When My Allergies Start")

Stuff That's Interesting

2008-05-19T20:41:00.003-06:00

I use Google Reader to aggregate all of my RSS feeds, including blogs, news sites, computer and electronics discussions, etc. A cool feature of Google Reader is the ability to share articles you find interesting with your online buddies. A cool extension to this cool feature is the ability to make these shared items a clip on a website - such as your own blog.

To that end, a cool new feature of my blog is the addition of the stuff from news feeds that I read that I find to be interesting enough to share. You can find this on the right side of my blog, with the amazingly creative title, "Stuff That's Interesting".

Enjoy.

When Reality Isn't Fun

2008-05-19T20:10:00.003-06:00

Sitting in my hotel room in New Orleans. Just played my last scheduled audition (for now). The result? Exactly the same as the first two. Ten minutes of playing, no call back.

Damn.

Honestly, I have a lot to be happy about. It really was my best audition, yet. All the notes were there. I played with more sense of musical phrasing, and I think my dynamics were better. And, yes, to drag out that oft-used cliche, I gained even more good experience.

The one problem I had here in the Big Easy turned out to be the same problem I had in Houston - the humidity. Something about it takes away some of the underlying strength in my reeds, making them a tad mushy, and making a few of my notes really hard to keep from playing flat. That certainly bit me in Houston, especially since they tune to A=442, and it bit me to a lesser extent in New Orleans. It's tough living in a dry climate and trying to play in a humid climate. I'll have to figure that problem out soon, if I want to have any success in the east.

In the short term, it's a little discouraging to think of the money spent, hours burned and time lost away from my ever supportive wife, and have nothing to show for it but "good learning experiences". However, not expecting this exact result would have been extremely naive on my part. Rarely does a musician go in and nail their first audition and land a perfect gig. Or their second, third, or fourth, for that matter. Yes, it does happen, but not often. There are just too many other great bassoonists out there. Sometimes reality sucks.

A friend of mine who's enjoyed not one but two full-time orchestra gigs took five auditions before he advanced for the first time. It wasn't until his seventh audition that he won his first job. That makes me feel a little better.

A year ago, when I told my bassoon professor I really wanted an orchestra gig, his response was, "Getting one takes hard work and tenacity." I've put in a good amount of hard work. Now is the part where I learn about that tenacity thing. Should be fun.

So, that's that. Three tries. Three busts. Perfect record. Back home tomorrow.

The Neighborhood Chipmunk Plays with Legos

2008-05-08T16:08:00.007-06:00

It amazes me to look back and find that I haven't posted since September of 2007 - and that was a post that, for some reason, I saved as a draft, and never published. (Incidentally, you'll see that I just published that post right after this one.) September of 2007! That's like declaring Blog Bankruptcy. That's like saying to all my faithful readers (both of them) that I could care less whether or not you know what's up, or whether you ever check back in with this here blog. What do you do after more than half a year of absence to get things rolling again? I've seen three options used on other blogs in this situation: 1) Profusely apologize, and promise never ever ever to disappear from the blogosphere again, 2) Explain in explicit detail all of the lame excuses for not posting, or 3) Completely ignore that you've been absent for so long, and continue writing as if your last post was yesterday. Hmm - which option to choose, which option...

I just got back from Toronto, where I took my first professional bassoon audition in 10 years. This time, the target was the 2nd bassoon spot with the Toronto Symphony. The results were the same as the one 10 years ago - a quick ten minutes of fame, and lots of time in the hotel room afterwards to think about what I could have done differently to advance. I practiced nothing but excerpts all semester, spent hundreds of dollars on plane fare and a hotel, flew thousands of miles, and had nothing to show for it - except the "good experience". I have a love/hate relationship with the "good experience" phrase. In one sense, all it really means is that you didn't get the job, and you have to find some justification for all the time and money you just spent. In another sense, though, it is symbolic of looking for things that really did go right during the audition to use for next time. I keep going back and forth on which meaning of the phrase most applies to my audition. I guess the only thing to do is to break down the good and the bad.

The bad: I made a couple of really stupid mistakes, which you absolutely cannot do, and expect to advance in a professional audition. I got a little psyched out right before I went on, and was a little more jittery than I expected. Oh, and I didn't advance to the next round.

The good: I actually took a professional audition - I need to remind myself how important of a step that was. Besides the couple of mistakes, I actually played a pretty decent audition. The Brahms Violin Concerto excerpt was flawless, and I rocked the Berlioz Symphony Fantastique fifth movement (yes, the double tonguing one). I got through the entire list of excerpts - not everyone did before getting hit with the universally feared phrase "Thank you very much." (which is a nice way of saying, "Get the hell off the stage.") I got to hear the Toronto Symphony in concert, and I got to meet Michael Sweeney, the principal bassoonist.

Yeah, I guess I can sincerely say it was a good experience.

I'm flying out to Houston this Saturday to try my luck again - 2nd bassoon opening with the Houston Symphony. Odds are I'll have a similar story to tell, but you never know. If that doesn't pan out, there's yet another audition in New Orleans a week later. I'll be there, hoping for that last chance at a job before trudging back to school in the fall.

Anyway, this post was going to be a kind of "here's what I did this past year", but it turned into an essay about auditions. Maybe I'll get into the whole "whimsical look back" next time. For now, I'll just end by saying that I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying playing the bassoon these days, and having a sense of purpose again, however fleeting it may be.

Until next time.

And So It Continues (A Blatantly Bassoon Centered Post)

2007-09-29T11:45:00.001-06:00

So, here I am sitting at a coffee shop on Pearl Street. It seems that I have a few minutes of time on my hands. Just time enough to rip off another unedited, unchecked fountain of thoughts from my increasingly tired brain.

Time? What the hell is this "time" concept?

Between toiling endlessly for my Pedagogy class by researching unending etudes, methods and solos, writing papers for my Pedagogy class, practicing teaching presentations - and failing miserably at giving them - for my Pedagogy class, it seems the only thing I can think of about time is that I don't have any.

Also, I've been practicing bassoon. And maybe doing some freelance programming if I need something to keep me up at night any longer. It is said that sleep is overrated, after all. I'm fairly certain that this was said by a corporate executive trying to meet a deadline. I'd like to kick the cretin who said that.

I now have two concerts under my belt - one with the Wind Symphony, and one with the Symphony Orchestra. Both were great concerts - they're both great groups. The orchestra played some sweeping works, like the Strauss "Rosenkavaleir Waltz Sequences", the John Adams "Chairman Dances", and the dramatic Sibelius "Symphony No. 1". The problem with this is that I only got to sit and watch the Adams and the Sibelius, as my services were only required on the Strauss. Too many good bassoonists at CU, it seems. Oh well. I'm definitely taking a liking to Adams' music, too.

I competed in the concerto competition yesterday. Hadn't done that for ten years. All in all, I felt very good about my performance - like I even had a chance to advance to the next round. As it turns out, I didn't. I never advanced in a competition at ASU either, no matter what I played. Bozza Concertino? "Nice try." Weber Andante and Hungarian Rondo? "What a stupid piece." (Yes, I was actually told that by one of the judges.) Jolivet Concerto? My personal Mt. Everest? "Tone a little too wide down low. Next." ARGH!

So, why not try something a little different this time? My professor suggested the Kozeluh Bassoon Concerto. My first reaction was, "You've got to be kidding me. I'm supposed to play a silly little bit of classical fluff?" I've never been a huge fan of classical era concertos. To that end, I'm going to say something downright sacrilegious in the bassooning world: I don't really like the Mozart Bassoon Concerto.

Still with me?

Anyway, I reluctantly agreed to do the Kozeluh. For one thing I decided to compete roughly three and a half weeks before the competition. There simply wasn't enough time to learn anything harder.

Another reason concerns my strengths and weaknesses as a bassoonist. I have always been sort of known as a technique specialist. In other words, I can pretty much play just about anything technical and fast that you put in front of me. Therefore, the pieces I've always worked on have catered to that. My weakness, however, is that I never really learned to "sing" on the bassoon. I have a harder time making an interesting musical phrase out of a two bar section of half notes than I do whipping off the Ravel Piano Concerto excerpt. While technique is great, it is only a piece of this whole music thing, and I really needed to concentrate on that.

The Kozeluh is not a difficult piece, at all, but it contains a lot of very singing, lyrical sections. This was a great opportunity for me to really focus on singing through my bassoon. I took to practicing it, and taking every suggestion I could get. After a few weeks of it, I was actually starting to sound pretty decent on it. I was even starting to come to the opinion that it was sort of kind of maybe a nice piece.

The competition came. I had a great reed using a newer concept I have been adopting lately for my horn. The hall was great for the sound. I sang. I resonated. The piddly little amounts of passage work came off without a hitch. People told me how I played so beautifully, and so musically. Score! I started to actually hope that I had a chance.

In the end, I didn't advance. Of course. Two other bassoonists did advance, though. Ironically, one of them played the Weber Andante and Hungarian Rondo. I guess the opinion that it's too stupid a piece is subjective. Really, the two bassoonists that advanced are excellent players, and both pieces were more difficult than the Kozeluh. Still, one of these times it'd be really cool to advance. Just once...

I guess I have to see it for what it is. This was a learning experience, and I learned a lot. I already have a better idea of musical playing than I did even a month ago. That's a GOOD thing! The bassoon professor at CU is very good at teaching. Very good.

On another note, it is so cool to be back in the ol' bassoon playing saddle. Crazy how you don't really appreciate something until you spend some time away from it. The two years or so I spent away from bassoon playing were seriously the darkest years of my adult life. I'm really looking forward to one of these days being paid to play the thing - even if I have to teach it, too!

Whoops, I guess our time is up. Until next month, when I have another few minutes.

And So It Begins

2007-08-28T14:35:00.000-06:00

I don't post a whole lot in this personal blog of mine anymore. Between trying to revive the "Digressions" blog concept, trying my hand at a new "tech for the rest of us" blog with the "Reluctant Geek" blog, and of course, starting school again for the first time in ten years, I haven't had a whole lot of time to just sit down and gab about recent events. Nevertheless, every now and then, it seems like a good idea to check in.

The idea that first took root in our minds around two years ago has finally come to fruition for both Mindy and I. I mean, has actually happened. Not just "we planned this", or "I got into this program", or "Mindy got a teaching job". While that was all good, I'm actually talking about the process of actually physically doing these things.

I quit my job at American Express after eight years of employment with them. The afternoon I shut my computer down for the last time, I tried to conjure some remorse and regret for leaving the job. I was unsuccessful.

Mindy is now teaching - sort of - for a charter school in a burgeoning town a mere 23 miles northeast of Boulder. Because the school board in that district purposely dragged their feet, and made it as hard as possible for the new school, they won't be able to officially open until next fall. It's a little disappointing for her, but the school is honoring their contracts this year, so, instead of officially teaching, they will try to be more of a tutoring, home-school helping presence this year.

After a week of preliminary exams and a final audition for ensemble placement, I have finally started work on my Masters of Music Performance degree at CU Boulder, with my increasingly trusty bassoon. For those who care, I passed three out of the four preliminary exams I took, including the aural and written theory exams, and post 1600 music history. The only one I failed was the pre 1600 music history exam. This is not a big surprise to me, as I have about as much interest in early music as I have with ear wax. I know they're both useful in some way, but I really could care less about either. Sorry to all you early music enthusiasts. Nothing personal, just not my cup of tea.

I had my first rehearsal for the Wind Symphony this afternoon. Man, it feels good to be back in a seriously great ensemble, again. My first bassoon lesson is tomorrow, at which I'm to bring a list of all the repertoire I've worked on in my serious bassooning lifetime. That list should be fun to put together.

And that's that. Mindy and I are doing what we want to do again. Feels good.

I'm going to post this without even proofreading it. Apologies for any errors in this text. I'll try to post here every now and then, but you are warned that it probably won't be often. Please check my other blogs for some hopefully entertaining reading!

The Digression Lives! Elsewhere!

2007-07-21T15:41:00.001-06:00

Here's some exciting news to all of my faithful readers! Both of them!

After a couple months off from posting to my other blog, The Digression, I am happy to announce that The Digression is back online! Wahoo!

Well, sort of.

Actually, the physical incarnation of this blog will officially end here, but the basic idea of this blog will live on at another site. Same idea but improved! A "The Digression 2.0", if you will.

For one thing, I'm able to use the name I actually wanted to use in the first place, but was already taken on Blogger. For another thing, I'm widening the scope of it just a tad which I'm hoping will keep my inspiration fresh.

All of my faithful readers (both of them) may see a few posts from this 1.0 blog showing up on the 2.0 from time to time. Don't worry, though. I'll try to keep it populated with mostly original ideas.

The new site, Scroggles, is the brainchild of my entrepreneurially (wow - my fingers need to rest a moment after that word) minded friend, whose blog can also now be found at this new paradise for bloggers. The site is in its infancy, but we're all hoping for some great things from a range of creative and dedicated authors - and, occasionally, from me, too. Who knows? Scroggles could be the next blogging powerhouse! And you can say you knew us all in the beginning.

And now, without further ado, here is the link to the resurrected blog:

Digressions and Other Inconsistencies

Thanks for reading! Now go read the new one!

San Francisco Disappears. Bush Blamed.

2007-07-15T00:16:00.000-06:00

In our trip to SF so far, yesterday was probably the highlight. We rented a couple of bikes near Fisherman's Wharf, and biked a few miles along the coast, then over the Golden Gate Bridge, and on into Sausulito, where we had some lunch, hung out for a while, then took the ferry back to Fisherman's Wharf. A very relaxing afternoon.

Unfortunately, I have serious news to present you. On the way to Sausalito, we got onto the bridge, expecting to look back, and see the entire SF skyline, with its rolling hills of high-rises, and its rows of piers. Instead, all we saw was the following. Please sit down before viewing these shocking pictures:

You guessed it. San Francisco had completely dropped off the face of the earth, replaced by a soupy, lugubrious void. Officials on the bridge were as shocked as the rest of us tourists, not hesitating to blame Bush and his outrageous policies for its disappearance - that, and the fact that LA had beat the Giants nine straight times, and that one of the cop's daughters had an unusually bad cold. "The sooner we get him out of office," the cop declared, "the sooner we stop needlessly losing random American cities to soupy, lugubrious voids."

Luckily, we were able to get out of SF and on to the bridge before the tragedy occurred. We're still trying to calm down from the disaster. However, we did get some nice shots that reminded me somewhat of The Neverending Story's "The Nothing". The Golden Gate Bridge itself was also as spectacular as all the pictures seemed to suggest. It was really neat to be able to bike over that thing, and take in the spectacle all around us.

When we got to Sausalito, instead of having to search for one of three parking spaces left in town like each of the 2,498 cars that were frantically looking, we just locked up our bikes, and had a very nice lunch at Cafe Tutti. The ferry ride back was rather chilly and windy, but it was pleasant enough. Yes, that's right: Back to SF. Believe it or not, SF had reappeared just in time for us to return to the wharf. Admittedly, it's a very strange and lugubrious coincidence, but we weren't complaining. When we got back to our hotel room, the fog had rolled in over the city, giving us some neat views of the place.

All in all, a nice day. The bikes were definitely the way to see the Golden Gate Bridge. Scenic, relaxing, and completely separated from the harried and lugubrious automobile rat race.

I'll keep you posted as the trip continues to develop.

San Francisco and the Latest in RST

2007-07-12T21:39:00.000-06:00

Mindy and I got up at 3:50 in the morning on Tuesday to drive to Denver International Airport, which is located in western Kansas, so we could catch a 7:00 am flight to San Francisco. Up to that point, the concept of "3:50" was an untested theory in my mind. Much like the theory that states that people with seven fingers on one hand have an easier time ordering drinks at a local bar, I knew 3:50 existed, I just hadn't ever seen it. (What, you mean you haven't heard the one about seven fingered people?) I regret to inform you that 3:50 does, in fact, exist, with all the bleary-eyed, phlegm filled grunting, half-conscious stumbling about that accompanies being awake at such a ridiculously early time of day. Honestly, if I had...

(Excuse me for the interruption, but I actually started this post to talk about San Francisco, and I've already droned on about "3:50" for an entire paragraph. Seeing as how it could take another couple of volumes to get to where I describe the front door on the jet we flew in explicit detail, I'll go ahead and fast forward to arriving in San Francisco. Sorry for the inconvenience.)

...And, then, when the sun finally did explode, what was left of our civilization had to quickly evacuate to the starship that was...

(Whoa! That was a bit too far. Pardon me while I rewind a bit.)

...then we stepped off the plane, and felt the cool moist breeze brush our faces, and we inhaled deeply. It felt good to be someplace cool. I was almost as amazed at the beautiful weather as I was when I discovered how exactly round the window was in the jet's front door, like I was telling you about before.

We took the Bay Area Rapid Transit (called BART, like some goofy but lovable dog) train from the airport all the way to downtown SF, right across the street from the Civic Center. It was interesting to see an entire hillside of row houses as the BART sailed along for one of the short distances that it was actually not underground. For the rest of the trip, we were in a featureless tunnel, and were treated to a heinous ear splitting squeal that sounded to me as if half of the wheels underneath were hopelessly jammed, and were being dragged across the rails by the rest of the train until they were superheated, glowing white, and ready to burn through the tunnel causing a massive explosion that would rip the train apart, leaving no survivors. In other words, it was a lot like a metal concert I went to, once, only it was more in tune than the band. Which reminds me that...

(Fast forwarding, fast forwarding...)

To get to Pier 39 the next morning, we decided to take the historic F Line from Market Street, and up the coast to the Pier. The F Line is part of SF's "Muni" transportation system. This particular system uses actual functioning street cars from around the world that have been restored, and put back in service. The cars date anywhere from the turn of the century to the early 1950's. It's actually pretty neat to see all these different cars from the pages of history clunking, creaking, and lurching their way down the street, leashed to the power lines above them. What wasn't neat was being tightly packed into those streetcars with so many other people that the bus driver advised us that there would be more room if we took turns breathing. (This is what SF'S "Muni" refers to as "Rolling Breath Outs", or "RoBO". They also came up with "BART". I'm looking in to whether or not they inflicted "BOOGER" on us.)

Imagine a shopping mall with mostly seafood restaurants, local stores (as opposed to the mega-chains), and a lot of boats tied up at a pier next door, and you have Pier 39, which is apparently the third most popular destination in America, behind Disneyland, and some other amazing tourist spot whose name escapes me at the moment, although I think it might be Carl's Jr.

It was fun. It was sunny and cool, and had that intoxicating moisture in the air that wafted up from the bay and massaged my face into a dumb smile. Mostly, though, I questioned whether or not it should be the "Third most popular destination in America".

That is, until we got to the "Turbo Ride 4D" store in a corner of Pier 39 next to the double-decker merry-go-round. Turbo Rider 4D was a virtual amusement park that offered the latest in RST - that's "Ride Simulation Technology". (SF's mass-transit allegedly wanted to use that name, but it had already been taken, forcing them to settle for "BART".) You see, these days, in our fast-paced, highly efficient society, it's no longer acceptable to spend the money and the resources building an amusement park ride. Instead, you build a dark room resembling a theater, put a couple rows of moving chairs in it, give the people 3D glasses, and simulate an amusement park ride. Kind of funny when you think about it. In all honesty, though, you couldn't be whisked to an island filled with dinosaurs, or take a ride down an insanely dangerous lumber processing factory in real life, so I guess that's something that RST has over a roller coaster. And, yes, I'll admit giggling a few times, and grabbing on to the arm rests when our virtual log plunged over a virtual cliff.

Right now, Mindy and I are back at the hotel room in the heart of San Francisco, resting our feet after taking the F Line back, and enjoying the endless honking that is apparently a legal obligation of driving in downtown SF. Tomorrow, we plan to rent a couple of bikes, and bike across the Golden Gate Bridge, where we will be treated to spectacular views of the city, and some very old, very large Redwood trees. Should be fun. I'll keep you posted.

From the Archives: Sealed for Your Frustration

2007-07-10T11:41:00.000-06:00

Today, we explore the hidden conspiracy that I tried to expose concerning the corporations versus the consumers. Not surprisingly, I nobody took this threat seriously. Nevertheless, I hope you find this issue as important and thought provoking as I did.

Sealed for Your Frustration
Originally posted July 10, 2005

Resigned (In More Ways than One)

2007-07-05T13:33:00.000-06:00

I've never really enjoyed stumbling onto a blog where the author talks endlessly about himself, and bemoans his very existence. Besides being filled with details that mean nothing to me, I usually find myself getting depressed when I read.

That won't stop me from churning out a sigh-fest of my own today. Consider yourself warned.

I turned in my letter of resignation to a company for whom I've worked for eight years.

This job was supposed to be a temporary job until I could find "real" work as a musician. The unfortunate thing - don't laugh when I say this - was that the job was too good. Here I was, right out of college, just starting to realize that college was no longer my reason for existence, and that I had to actually start earning a living, and just at that point, here comes these opportunities for small jobs in a totally unrelated field. I took all of them, and it very quickly resulted in my landing a job at a huge corporation programming databases and reports for them.

With music, I would have had to fight and claw for any job I got. With programming, I already had a good job. With music, I would be lucky to find an orchestra that paid enough to live on. With programming, I already had a job that paid more than most orchestras.

That's why the job was too good. I was too comfortable too early. I had no financial reasons to pursue music anymore - I was already set. So, I spent the next eight years slowly watching my musical plans fade until they barely registered, all the while coding for a company that began to treat me like a number but continued paying me well, and giving me a raise every year on schedule. They kept me comfortable, fat and relatively.

Fast forward to roughly a year ago when my enthusiasm for my job had reached an all time low, right about the time I got another new boss who understood my job even less than my previous one. I was faced with a decision of Dilbert proportions: Do I continue in my job where I am paid well but nobody understands or appreciates the skills or techniques required to do my job? Or, do I return to a life doing a job that I love, but have no guarantee that I'll be financially secure?

I decided that, after eight years, maybe it was time to try the latter. I had tried the high paid, stuff filled, financially secure, ultimately empty lifestyle. I had grown to loathe it. All inspiration for working was gone. I decided the other option couldn't possibly be worse, and could actually, in fact, be a better life in the long run.

My wife, amazing woman that she is, supported this decision. We've spent the last year slowly getting into a position to allow me to return to my original passion (And for her to return to hers, but that's another story. She really should be blogging.). We sold our big house in the mountains. We got rid of probably two thirds of useless stuff that we had collected over the years. We moved to the Front Range of Colorado, where a choice of universities resided. I got a new bassoon, and renewed my practicing on the beast. I was accepted to CU in Boulder. Mindy got a job as a full time teacher.

And, finally, finally, everything was in place. So I threw the switch, and turned in my resignation. You would think I would be thrilled, excited, and inspired by this action, where I take my life down a different path.

I'm not.

Truth is, I'm not thrilled, excited, nor inspired about practically anything these days, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the result of all that time I spent selling my soul at a job I knew I shouldn't be at, but continued with anyway. Maybe it's the fact that, even as they continue to pay me, and tell me everything's okay, the company makes no secret that a guy in my position is unacceptable, and will soon be dealt with. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't felt really useful for at least the couple of years. Whatever it is, lately, my life has been nothing more than a series of waking up, eating, taking the dogs out to crap, reading the feeds on the web, and logging into my job where no one cares whether I'm even there or not.

It didn't help that all the acknowledgment I got from my boss about my resignation was a three line email saying, "sorry to see you go, all the best". It wasn't that hard to translate: "Thanks for making my own job easier. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Maybe, after a while, that would get to anybody. I hope so. I hope I'm not just some weird depressed freak. I hope that, once school starts, I'll begin to actually enjoy life again. I hope I'll find something to get excited about. In the meantime, I'm just left with regrets. Regrets about selling out and letting my music fade. Regrets about working for a corporate giant that would only care about me if I expired in a drooling heap on their desk, thereby making them have to pay for someone to clean up my desk. Regrets about the life I might have led up to now if I hadn't taken a job like this right out of college. Oh well. At least I get a chance to try and fix things.

Bored yet? Depressed? Sorry about that, although I did warn you. The good news is, I only have 30 days until I can leave the corporate bullcrap for good - I hope. Then, maybe I'll quit writing this drivel.

Speaking of meaningless drivel, I need to go answer an email from work about the five things I plan to do to keep my desktop neat, thereby increasing my job satisfaction and productivity.

But We Left Phoenix to Escape the Heat

2007-06-23T13:35:00.000-06:00

"If you can't think of something nice, please restrict your comments to the weather."

We've all heard that gem of wisdom, I hope. A great saying. I'll use that as the basis for this post, but I'll modify it just a bit.

"If you can't think of something to post on your blog, please restrict your comments to the weather."

Much better. With that said...

Nice to know that, roughly three years after leaving the desert metropolis of Phoenix, Arizona, we're still enjoying the relief of cool, balmy weather.

No, wait. I guess that's not quite accurate.

No, 99 degrees isn't the same as 116 - a normal June high in Phoenix - but neither is the altitude (higher, here), nor the abundance of air conditioners (not as many and not as good). Not that I'm saying the heat here in the Front Range is as bad as Phoenix. Heck, no! I'll take 99 at 5000 feet with a scrawny little window A/C any day! You guys thought I was going to say I'd rather take 116. That's funny.

Incidentally, we finally broke down and bought a window A/C to cool our garden level apartment. What we lose in light (the A/C takes up a window), and quiet ambiance (if you're not aware that sound is the A/C, you're more likely to think a jet is taking off next to our apartment), we gain in coolness.

And, no, I'm not talking about cool as in "hip", or "with it". You're reading the thoughts of a nerd, through and through.

Here's hoping for some rain, soon. (Yes, Phoenicians. We do at least get rain.)

From the Archives: My Pants in a Sack

2007-06-18T17:50:00.000-06:00

Welcome to the first installment of "From the Archives". Today, we look back on those heady days when my wife and I lived at 9000 feet, surrounded by the staggering beauty that is the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Enjoy.

My Pants in a Sack
Originally posted August 15, 2005

From the Archives: Intro

2007-06-18T17:35:00.001-06:00

With this post, the author introduces a new feature of this blog...

(He also demonstrates his appreciation for using italics.)

This current blog you're reading is my third. My second one, The Digression, was started with the best of intentions but recently left to collect dust for a while. My first one was actually from a website I maintained for my family. When I decided to branch out a bit, I reposted a bunch of my stuff from that first blog on The Digression, where they languished as old posts that just didn't get a lot of looks.

And so, looking for any excuse to post something these days with the fewest possible keystrokes, I'm going to dig out one of these bad boys every now and then, blow the dust off of it, and paste a link to it shamelessly on this here blog.

Stay tuned, look for the "From the Archives" posts, and happy reading.

The author now wishes it to be known that he does, in fact, also like underlines.

Crime and Punishment on the Boulder Turnpike

2007-06-10T12:55:00.000-06:00

Welcome, reader, to Story Time at Redundant Paradox. Sit back, grab some coffee, and I'll tell you a tale of high crime, cops, iPods, and ultimate justice.

I actually got somebody pulled over the other day. It was, at once, both a small moral victory and a source of just a hint of shame for being the one that got the other guy nailed. In the end, though, I wasn't purposely trying to, so I guess if he got pulled over, that was his problem.

Mindy and I were heading south on the Boulder Turnpike, which has a speed limit of 65MPH. As per the state of Colorado - and the myriad of signs posted along the freeway - you are only allowed to use the left lane to pass. Otherwise, you must stay in the right lane. Most of the traffic on this road seems to mosey along at around 60MPH. I like to at least do the speed limit (and maybe push it just a bit), so I spend a good amount of my time in the left lane. Of course, when someone comes up behind that's going faster, I move over and let him pass.

Therein lies the background for this little tale. I was in the left lane, and pulled up behind this guy doing 58MPH or so. Courtesy - and, yes, state law - asks that he move over to let me by. Of course, he had no intention of doing so. What made this really irritating is the the cop car hauling along in the right lane doing a comfy mid 50's for speed. Because of this, one of the stupidest driving phenomenons in driving history (even worse than the storied legends of the old Roman freeways) suddenly sprang into effect: Every driver in a 500 foot radius around the car slowed down to make sure they were going no faster than the cop car.

Okay, I have to digress here. I'd just like to ask this question of all the folks who feel they can't go around a cop car: WHY DO YOU DO THAT? Let's think about this, here, applying the specific example of my current (unfinished, dry, and increasingly long-winded) story. The posted speed limit is 65. The cop is doing 55. By all rights, if you want to continue doing the legal speed limit, just go around the cop! What are you afraid of? Do you think you're going to bruise the cop's ego, and he's going to come tearing after you, pulling you over for some silly reason like not having your bumper stickers properly registered by the state? You all act like you're drug dealers hauling a big load of merchandise in a stolen car with forged plates while holding a hostage at gun-point in the back seat, and the last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself from the cop! Come on! If he wants to drive like an old granny, let him do that, and go around him, and on your way at the normal speed limit! Period! Exclamation Point!

Of course, the guy in the left lane in front of us slowed down, too, right next to the cop, making an impenetrable wall of cars in front of me. It wasn't long before he actually slowed down even more, so he was now a couple car lengths behind the cop. I thought he was going to pull in behind the cop and let me go around.

I was very, very naive.

He just kept sticking in the left lane, probably talking on his cell phone, and changing the track on his iPod at the same time. So, I decided to try going around him on the right. I moved over, started to accelerate, and found that I would ram the cop's back end before I was able to get around the sluggard in the left lane. I'm not sure, but I think ramming a cop is generally looked down upon. Getting more frustrated, I moved back over to the left, and pulled in just a little closer behind iPod Man, hoping he would get the hint. He didn't. I couldn't believe it! Just sitting there holding up me and an increasing line of cars behind me, completely oblivious! ARGH! He just didn't get the hint. However, the cop did. That's when the magic happened.

Sudenly, the cop signaled he wanted to move over, so I backed off and let him in. He immediately turned his lights on, signaling iPod Man to pull over. I'm sure the guy had to tell his buddy on his cell phone that the cops had some sort of conspiracy against him because here he was being pulled over again, and - dammit - now he spilled his Starbucks Latte all over his lap!

Just like that, iPod Man pulled over along with the cop, and I had free sailing down the freeway at 65MPH, the moving roadblock and the cop's lights just a distant memory in my rearview mirror. Of course, everyone else around me sped back up to 65, as well, now that the granny cop was gone. Cowards!

So, there you have it. One more example that crime just doesn't pay. Pass in the left lane, cruise in the right, or face the strong arm of the law. Sure, I was just a pawn in this legal chess match, but at least I got to see ultimate justice meted out just this once.

And also, people drive like idiotic cowards around cops.

And, quite possibly, that I get too worked up when I drive. Maybe.

Tales of a Small Time Success

2007-05-24T11:48:00.000-06:00

I just read a story about a computer programmer who walked away from his job to become a full time singer songwriter - and succeeded. Now, it seems, he's not a millionaire with 5 gold albums and a Bentley in each of his 12 scenic mansions.

But he's succeeding in making a living doing it. Kind of inspirational.

Read the story here.
Visit the artist's website here.