Hardly any time to write a post this week. I’m spending nearly every non-working hour with my newfound hero. My mother.

I’ve written about being fearless before. And “fearless” is not a word I would have previously used to describe the woman that gave birth to me. I’ve gone much of my life hearing from her that I should be careful. Careful who I associate with, of where I travel, of what I eat. How it terrifies her and drives her batty that this black sheep of the family seems to find himself in some shady locales. Or in places like Cuba. Or eating scorpion. Or flying a paraglider into some power lines.

Don’t ruffle anyone’s feathers; stay behind the scenes and keep quiet; be “normal” so that you don’t attract too much attention; play it safe and don’t take any unnecessary risks.
Fearful is how I would have described her. Far from fearless. And I was wrong.

I’ve lived in Oregon for over four years now and had pretty much come to terms with the fact that mom would probably never make it out this way. She has never traveled anywhere outside of the few Midwest states that she’s resided in during her lifetime. No warm, sunny vacation getaways. No Grand Canyon. No foreign lands. Well, does crossing the border to go shopping in Canada count?

Being reminded regularly of all of her travel worries, I’ve often joked that she believes that the Transportation Security Administration has been on-duty all these years for the sole purpose of one day getting to harass her- a little ol’ farm girl from Indiana. That (which really isn’t all that far from her perception of the situation), along with the hassle of organizing an assortment of 3-oz. liquids, and trusting a big chunk of moving metal parts and wires to stay aloft in the sky, means that there’s no getting the woman onto an airplane. It’ll never happen. But at 66 years young, my mother- nervous as she also was about solo train travel- hopped aboard the Amtrak Empire Builder and made the two-and-a-half day trek across the US!

It simply blows my mind that she’s here. At her age (and degree of stubbornness), many people would allow the fear of the unknown to just remain paralyzing to them. No reason to start changing at this stage in the game. But in only the few days that she’s been here so far, I’ve witnessed her ‘fear of the unknown’ morph into ‘kid in a candy store’ excitement! Back home, her town of less than 7,000 doesn’t have a Starbucks. Or an IHOP. She’s never before seen either. These are places one only gets teased by in delicious looking television commercials. When shopping for household supplies or birthday presents, K-Mart, WalMart and Walgreen’s are among the best [and few] options. Way up north where she’s at, there are no malls full of Borders, Aeropostale, The Mac Store and Hot Topic. She’s never seen an ocean before. Nor an actual mountain. It’s suddenly apparent that what we used to call a “mountain” in the Midwest is rather embarrassing!

* Note: highest elevation in the entire state of Wisconsin . . . 1,951.5 ft.

Everything here is new to her; she’s having the time of her life. And it’s all because she decided to stop waiting around, stop watching life pass her by and, perhaps most importantly, stop letting fear keep her trapped in a little shell any longer.

Spending the last couple of days with my mother has been very inspiring to me. Talk about making a serious 180. Some would argue that “fearless” isn’t exactly the right word. Fearlessness essentially implies an enlightened, utopian state in which we are scared of nothing. Not of spiders. Nor public speaking, clowns or dying. But each time that you stand up to yet another fear, and refuse to allow it to make your decisions, you certainly get a bit closer. As elusive and impossible as it may be, striving for it might also bring otherwise unexpected benefits. Perhaps growth? Success?

If my dear old mom can do it, anybody can. She’s my hero. Love you, mom!

Have a hero that you’ve seen conquer fear?
Please share in a comment below!

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• Fearless . . . ruthless

Darn you, Joel Runyon. After an insanely busy week, I was so looking forward to taking a few days to kick back and do as little as humanly possible. But no . . .

You have to go and post this last week, sending me head-first into a process of analyzing what I’m doing with my life, why I’m doing it and exactly how I’m going to go about it.

34 posts into this “blogging” thing, I guess that it’s about time that I sit down and outline a plan of attack. I’ve previously written about my bucket list of things to accomplish before I die. I suppose that making that list public is a way to hold myself somewhat accountable to those goals, but does it really get things completed? No, not really. These things will start getting checked off one-by-one only with a clearly defined plan of attack, goal setting on long- and short-term levels and some seriously hard work. Inspired by Joel’s recent butt-kicking, and also his mention [this week] of Chris Guillebeau‘s planning in the early stages of his quest for world domination, I would like to officially welcome you to the “Grand Opening” of my blog here at PowersPercussion.com and tell you what you can be expecting in the near (and distant) future.

The purpose of it all

I have so many different interests, and am regularly working on so many seemingly unrelated projects, that it’s difficult to explain to someone each of the pursuits that have importance to me. Being a rather visual person, I decided that the quickest and easiest way to show you what’s going on in this noggin is through the use of a Mind Map.

Disclaimer: I whipped the above mindmap together in a matter of minutes, adding the thoughts and projects that immediately came to mind. I’m sure that items will be added, omitted and rearranged as I have time to live with it and begin working through it. I imagine that much of the content will evolve over time.

That said, the important part is that it exists. There is now a simple framework (imperfect as it may be) in place that can be used to help:
a) determine the next steps to take; and
b) gauge progress down the road.

The first step in accomplishing anything that we want to do, or creating a future we envision for ourselves, is clearly defining the “what.” What do I really want to be doing? When asked, what do I say that I’m going to do with my life? What things, experiences and people do I want in my life? Only after consciously stating the “what” can we begin to decipher the “how.”

As part of this Grand Opening, I do want to highlight just a few of the ideas that are presented in the mind map, to give you an idea of “what” I have in-store!

Kickin’ the bucket (list)

There’s simply no way to get things checked off that monstrous bucket list of mine without getting my hands a little dirty. Or perhaps “filthy” is the correct word.

In just under two months, I get to cross #3 off the list when I compete in the Muddy Buddy in Estacada, Oregon! The Muddy Buddy is a two-person, off-road, bike/run/obstacle course that concludes with a crawl through their infamous mud pit to reach the finish line. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for years now, ever since reading about it in a mid-flight magazine.

I’ll keep you posted pre- and post-race, and will be making plans to conquer more of that list very soon!

Think Globally, Act Locally?
NO: Think Both, Act Both

I’m preparing to implement two ongoing charitable projects in the months ahead.

Far

On a global scale, I will begin making audio recordings of (and occasionally, with) local musicians in the various countries I travel to. I’m currently working to create a support team of individuals and organizations that will help to fully fund each recording, provide the necessary equipment and handle the graphic/audio needs. Email me if you’re interested in joining the team!

The plan, after each trip, is to then essentially hand the CDs over to a selected organization that’s doing great work in that respective region, giving them 100% of the profits from the product’s sales, not some lousy “portion of the proceeds” mumbo jumbo. We’ll also help them generate online digital sales, by setting up accounts on iTunes, etc.

I feel that, via my avenue of music, this is one of the best ways that I can give back to the people and places that I have the fortune of experiencing around the world.

The first recording trip is already in the works! The dates have gotten pushed back a little, but sometime late fall/early winter I will be traveling to record musicians and youth choirs in Uganda, East Africa. More information about the project (which will benefit Albany, Oregon-based Show Mercy International) check out this page.

Near

A bit more locally, by the first of year (but hopefully much sooner) I will be unveiling another website that’s very important to me personally. It’s being designed to kick others in the pants, giving one person per month a tiny bit of a financial boost for any number of purposes. Perhaps to help start (or complete) a project that they’ve been putting off. Create a work of art. Help someone else. I won’t go into any details about “Codename: TDD” just yet; only a couple close friends have even so much as heard about it. But stay tuned- I’m too excited to keep the cat in the bag much longer!

Join me: it’s as easy as one, two, three . . .

1. What do you want to do? Write your own plan of attack. Create your own mind map. And I want to hear about it . . . share with all of us in the comments below!

2. Subscribe to be notified of my future posts. If you already have, you rock!

3. Tell the world. Pass this on by word of mouth, email, Twitter, Facebook, or what-have-you. The trendy little buttons below will help you post directly to many of your favorite social media sites. And like it says, “sharing is sexy!”

Thanks a million for reading!
And Joel? Yeah . . . I guess thanks to you, too.

Related Posts

• Ready, Fire, Aim
• Repurposing Your Life

Right around the same time every spring, I get approached by at least one or two college percussionists, asking for a few minutes of my time. I’ve come to believe that they must be completing an end-of-the-year assignment given to them in some sort of Music Business class. Meet with, and interview, someone in your chosen field who is doing the work you would like to be doing.

I am truly honored that anyone would think enough of me and my work to want to hear my thoughts, and am more than willing to share anything I possibly can. I’m also a firm believer that inquiring with those you look up to is a fantastic method of gathering advice, insight and inspiration. But the questions are always the same, as if letter-for-letter, exactly what the professor suggested.

How do I find gigs? How do I start teaching private lessons? How does one go about writing and submitting articles to magazines?

My answer is always the same, as well. Cliché as the Nike slogan may have become, “just DO it.”

If teaching lessons is your goal, post an ad on CRAIGSLIST, make fliers and drop them off with every single band director in town, ask if the local music store has any studios available to rent and teach out of.

Want gigs? Post another CRAIGSLIST ad. Hit every single jam session in the area; sit-in on a few songs with the band (no matter how nervous you are); introduce yourself to everyone and hand them a business card; TELL them you are looking to play and how much you would love for them to consider you for anything that pops up. Record, edit and post a YouTube demo video that you can direct people to.

Would you like to see your name in print, on the pages of your favorite music magazine? Well, they most likely won’t pay you to write for them before they can see some other work that you’ve already done. Have you written anything? If not, just get something out into the universe. Pump out a handful of 500-1,000 word articles and submit to some free online webzines (which won’t pay) or post them on your own blog or website. Once you’ve accumulated some content and other writing ‘credits,’ then you might have a leg to stand on when approaching the big boys. You’ll be able to provide them with prior work to check out.

Make Yourself Known

Along the same lines, I’m reminded of a conversation I recently had with a local musician. He has mentioned to me several times that he really wishes that he could get into teaching in group situations. He’s been particularly interested in working at a popular music camp that some friends are involved with. However, a list of “but”s and “what-if”s keep him from taking action until, alas, camp is over for another year and he’s missed the boat yet again. On top of it, there’s part of him that remains disappointed because he’s waiting, in vain, expecting that, if they want him to teach there, they’ll be contacting him.

I explained to him that, having never taught in a setting such as that before, nobody even knows he’s interested in doing so. And they won’t know, until he makes it clearly known that he is. Of course he’ll never get that phone call. It’s absolutely imperative, not only in music or teaching, to get out there and let people know you exist! My suggestion to him, since he seems scared to “sell” himself to the organization (which, I admit, can be terrifying), was to simply call one of his friends that teach at the camp and ask to come by one day and observe what they do. What’s the harm in that? Chances are, that will be met with an enthusiastic, “heck yeah, swing over tomorrow and check it out!” Once there, it’s quite likely that an opportunity might arise for him to throw his two-cents in about a topic or musical passage being discussed. Then, all of a sudden, students get an experience with him, others get to see him in action and, ohmigosh, he’s doing it! The foot is in the door . . . please sign here on the dotted line.

If there are things in your life that you really want to be doing or pursuing, starting right now take a Ready, Fire, Aim approach, make sure that people know what your intentions are, and do it!

Thoughts?
I’d love to hear them below!

Let me start with a short demography lesson. Then a somewhat lengthy story before wrapping things up with the reason for this whole post, and a quick question for you.

The Lesson:

My 2nd edition Puerto Rico Lonely Planet guidebook says that La Perla, “is not a place to wander into.” Squashed into a small stretch of property between the ocean and Old San Juan’s city walls, La Perla is an impoverished settlement of working class individuals and families. Wikipedia cites that it was “established in the late 19th century . . . because the law required . . . homes of former slaves and homeless non white servants . . . to be . . . outside the city walls.” It also states that “in recent years La Perla has become known because of the high rate of illegal drug trafficking and crime,” and that the United States 2000 Census reported a total population of 338. This included 198 housing units (29 unoccupied) in an area of 16.5 acres.

The Story:
(out of respect to friends old and new, all names have been changed)

It’s impossible to fully describe to you what lies beyond that wall. Before I begin to try, let me preface my tale by saying that I find La Perla and its people to be absolutely beautiful, and excitedly look forward to my next visit!

—–

My phone shows that it’s almost 1:00am on Tuesday morning. I glance over and notice that the speedometer reads 52 mph. We’re racing far too fast through the city streets, swinging far too wide at every turn, when my driver decides to tell me that she doesn’t have a driver’s license and hasn’t been behind the wheel in over a year. That’s also about the time she mentions that we’re making a quick stop at the La Perla home of her friend, Evalisse, who’s leading in the car in front of us. La Perla? “Marisa, are you sure it’s okay to be bringing a gringo down there?” Her response, “yeah, I . . . think so,” doesn’t exactly bring the reassurance I was hoping for. I get to work emptying the contents of my pockets into my Kiva daypack, and stuff it all as far back underneath the passenger seat as possible. I want to be carrying nothing.

Our entrance to the district was through a dark, one-lane tunnel that plummets underground near Fuerte San Felipe del Morro, on the north side of Viejo San Juan. Blaring the car horn to warn others that may be entering from below, we emerge alongside the Cementerio de San Juan, gravesite of many of the colony’s first citizens. We park the cars [note: this is the only time I’ve ever seen someone here use The Club] and set out on foot. As far as I can tell, our vehicles are the only two that aren’t missing several parts of their exteriors. I hope that’s still the case when . . . if . . . we get back later.

The roadway into La Perla looks as normal as any other. It’s decently paved, with speedbumps in place to slow down traffic through the weaving, tightly constructed neighborhood. But stepping off that road is stepping into another world. As we were walking along with a full moon overhead, I became acutely aware of my increased heart rate. Everything I’ve ever heard and read has told me that I shouldn’t be here. Evalisse guided us down stench-filled, pitch black alleyways, between homes built merely feet apart from each other, up and down decrepit concrete staircases, flipping a small flashlight on and off to help us safely navigate around otherwise invisible obstacles in our path. I wouldn’t recommend it to any of you claustrophobes.

Evalisse shouted through the open doorway of one ramshackle abode that we passed and a man suddenly appeared, looking as though he’d just pulled himself out of the city sewer. Although between the two us, our broken Spanglish couldn’t support much of a conversation, it was immediately apparent that my being a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend meant that Madesio and I were like brothers. I got a genuine feeling that, if you’re there with a resident of The Pearl, you’re in good hands and have someone (or several someones) to watch your back. In communities like these, looking out for one other is a must and relationships are sacred.

The four of us finally arriving at her place, Eva explained that the policía had recently broken in for the second time. Since she lives in the center of La Perla, which has the heaviest concentration of drugs and dealers, the authorities often come busting through everyone’s homes in search of illegal substances, valuable possessions to steal and the hopes of driving the poverty-stricken inhabitants out of the area. But she’s optimistic that it’s the last time they’ll bother her. The apartment, filled with stacks of books, a mattress on the floor and random knick-knacks, hardly resembles the lair of a user or pusher.

We each gathered up a folding chair and glass of wine, and headed back outside, up another handful of stairs and onto the rooftop. Dios mio! What a dichotomy between good and bad. La Perla, while quite possibly one of the ugliest places one could choose to live, is also one of the most gorgeous! I sat in utter awe for a while, watching and listening to the powerful Atlantic waves crashing onto the rocky shore below, only a few steps away from Eva’s building. People here get to walk outside and see this . . . every single day. Then I spin around to face the buildings of La Perla and see nothing but dirty, graffiti-covered homes. Many windows are devoid of glass and have been either left open, or covered with wooden boards. What initially appear as no more than tiny, rundown, rectangular boxes are humble dwellings that hundreds of people call home. I express my disbelief of the yin and the yang I’m witnessing and Madesio struggles his way through explaining how crazy (and, not uncommon) it is to sit here smiling and laughing with friends, while you hear gunfire a block behind you.

I spent much of our little party listening to my three companions chattering away in rapidfire español, catching only the gist of each joke and story, and managing to pick up a number of new sentences and bits of Puerto Rican slang. Apparently, the common English phrase, “it’s a trip” (used after telling the tale of some wacky experience), translates quite literally: Es un viaje! I laugh to myself about the appropriateness of those words at this very moment. The conversation was interrupted occasionally by the girls bursting into song, the woman next door screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs in an attempt to shut us up, and Madesio turning his chair away from the group while he got his fix.

The Point, and My Question:

All of this has been to lead up to the knee jerker of the evening. I’m sitting on the roof of a nearly dilapitated structure in the wee hours of the morning, in the slum of an already not-so-well-to-do commonwealth, with a beautiful young girl who has almost nothing to her name. She reaches for her bag and pulls out . . . a brand spanking new . . . MacBook Pro.

Is there something wrong with this picture?

I seriously want to know. Is it just me? I’m still in shock over it- I believe for a number of reasons- and haven’t yet fully sorted through the issues that the experience stirred up inside me. Commercialism? Priorities? Society? Choices? Help me decipher the problems I’ve having.

Please drop a comment below and let me know your thoughts. And I’ll keep you posted as I get mine straightened out.

Thanks for reading!

Ups and downs. We all have ‘em.

And for creative types, it’s not at all uncommon to be emotionally affected by the public’s response to our work. You’re flying high off the mad success of your previous CD sales and the reviews that came with it. Suddenly, the follow-up album tanks, you’re sitting on a couple thousand unsold copies, and you feel as though you completely suck as an artist- like the entire world dislikes your music. Right about then you get asked to fill a headliner spot at the huge state music festival, and that’s going to bring with it a local radio interview and an enormous photo of you and the band plastered all over on posters and newspapers. Ego and self-image skyrocket- you can do no wrong. Oh, no- you just got axed and replaced with a bigger name act touring through? Here we go again . . .

I’ve dealt with that in nearly every facet of what I do. As a performer, educator, public speaker and writer, it can often be difficult to remain secure and confident enough in myself and my work to not let external factors take me on an internal rollercoaster. The same even holds true for blogging. As a blogger, publicly posting ideas and stories- and making yourself transparent to anyone who cares to read- can be scary at times. You’re putting yourself in a very vulnerable position. There are times when I struggle over which button to press: Publish or Delete.

Once the decision has been made to hit Publish and your words flood out into the blogosphere, it’s then tempting to keep tabs on your stats page to see how many people are checking you out!

[Day 3]: Yeah, baby- almost 300 views in one day? And already five people have posted comments? I think I’ve finally gotten this blogging thing figured out!

[Day 7]: Wha?! NOBODY visited yesterday? Nobody? And only three clicks so far today? What the heck happened? You know, this is a heck of a lot of work for nothin’. Maybe I should just scrap this whole idea.

Now, I understand that my small view counts are chump-change to many bloggers. I certainly don’t get 16,937-visitor traffic spikes in a day like some people I know.

But one thing that helps me feel a bit better is my discovery that even the big dogs are affected by ups and downs, and tuck their tails between their legs from time to time. I continually glean advice, ideas and inspiration from one of my favorite bloggers, the ridiculously world-traveled Chris Guillebeau. But even at his level of success, he admits to still being susceptible. Here is an excerpt from Chris’ manifesto, 279 Days to Overnight Success (click that link and get his free eBook now!):

“I derive too much emotion validation from the daily state of my network. When lots of people are subscribing, the comments are up, and the links are rolling in, I feel great. When the numbers are down, I feel bad. I haven’t found a way to solve this yet- if you’ve been there and moved past it, feel free to send me your magic solution.”

I’m sure that aspects of my very public performing and teaching life will still bring its bumps and bruises once in a while. But, concerning the blogger side of my persona, what I’ve decide that I can, should, and will try to do is to stay confident that I’m passing along information and ideas that will prove useful to somebody out there. Even if that means only one ‘somebody,’ it’s still entirely worth it!

—–

Now, please post a really nice comment below and make me feel better again! :)

Last week I talked about one of the most common questions I’m asked as a drum instructor, “How long does he/she (or, do I) need to take lessons?” Today, I wanted to tackle another similar question I often get. Like the first, this one also relates to many endeavors in life outside of music lessons.

“How long until I’m good?”

I’ve always thought of that as a very odd inquiry, and one that really puts me on the spot. Over the years, I’ve come up with all sorts of BS, off-the-cuff replies tailored to appease the student or parent standing in front of me. But after teaching 50-65 students per week for 13+ years, I’ve come to realize that there is truly no way that I can answer it other than responding with three more questions that only the student can answer.

#1) What is your definition of “good”?

How good do you want/intend to become? Simply good enough to just drop a stick on a drum and make a sound? Done . . . lesson over . . . please pay at the door . . . thank you very much . . . and see you next week! Good enough to impress the girls at the school talent show? Good enough to play along with your favorite AC/DC song on your drumset in the basement? Be in a band? Get called for local gigs? Be a rockstar? To each his own– these are all acceptable goals. But be aware that there are enormous differences between each of the above. What is your goal?

#2) How much effort are you planning, able and willing to put forth?

I don’t care how cool you think being a rockstar would be. And I don’t care how much you say that that’s what you want to do with your life. What I do care about is whether or not you’re willing to work hard enough to make it happen. If not, I can’t help you all that much.

In his fantastic book, The Cycle of Self Empowerment, Dom Famularo offers the following equation: Desire + Commitment = Reward

The three form a chain that will not exist if any of the links is broken. You can’t have one without the others. As with anything in life, no matter how much you desire to reach that reward, it’s absolutely impossible without a commitment to the time and work necessary to get there. Commitment is the connecting link.

I often draw the above graphic on my snare drum head with a Sharpie as a reminder that, until I’ve attained the goals I have in mind, there’s no way I can stop working my tail off.

#3) Why stop at “good”?

If music (or whatever else you happen to be learning) is simply a fun hobby or escape from your regular job, then perhaps “good” is good enough. If that’s not the case- if instead, it’s something you’re really seriously about pursuing- then I venture to say that it isn’t.

“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” – author unknown

If you are going to invest all of that time and money into lessons and gear, why not plan to do it well. Better than good, be great. As Gary Vaynerchuk would say, “crush it!” With a little dedication and focus, you might find yourself doing things you never before thought possible. It’s an amazingly liberating feeling to suddenly discover that you have the power to reach new personal heights and goals. When that happens, I guarantee that that feeling and power will start to spill over into other areas of your life. And then look out . . . what can’t you do?

—–

I’d love your help spreading the word about my blog! If you dig these posts (and I hope you do!), please give me a hand by doing one (or more!) of these five:

- retweet this post on Twitter

- share it on your Facebook wall

- subscribe to this blog via RSS or email

- leave a comment below (I really love hearing that there are actually living, breathing people out there reading these!)

- buy me a coffee, so I can stay up later and write more!

Thanks a ton in advance- you rock!

Related Posts

• Never. Stop. Learning.

I’m currently in the Atlanta airport, en route to Puerto Rico. This is the third annual trip I’ve made to the island, to attend La Fiesta de Santiago Apostol in the town of Loiza, and to learn more about the traditional percussion rhythms of Bomba and Plena.

Before I get to the point of this post, a quick side note: This morning brought with it yet another travel hacking opportunity. I volunteered my seat for a flight (opting for a later one) and scored 600 more Delta Dollars, two meal vouchers and a First Class seat to San Juan, Puerto Rico later today! Oh, yeah . . . and I’m writing this while rockin’ the free wi-fi and drinks right now in the Delta SkyClub! But, I digress . . .

I was sitting here, reading Marc Dicciani‘s excellent article (“Lifelong Learning- What If?”) in the latest issue of Percussive Notes, when I suddenly became aware of something that happens to me each time I set out on one of these overseas study adventures. I consciously feel an internal transition from “teacher mode” to “student mode.” Taking some time to step away from my usual role as instructor is the single best thing I can do for all of my students. Putting myself in this position . . .

. . . increases my rhythmic repertoire and vocabulary, giving me more of the same to teach about.

. . . reminds me what “student mode” feels like- hopefully helping to keep me sensitive to my students’ needs, wishes and challenges.

. . . renews my own passion for music and making music, which is probably the greatest thing I can hope to pass on and inspire in others.

One of the most frequent questions I’m continually asked by new students’ parents is, “How long does he/she need to take lessons?” I’ve been taking lessons now for the past 23 years and have no plans of stopping anytime soon. As my bio shows, I have studied with Dave Stanoch, Gordy Knudtson, Marv Dahlgren, Paul Wertico, Payton MacDonald, Dane Richeson, Ed Thigpen, Rakalam Bob Moses, Graham Lear, Emmanuel and Rubben Agbeli, Daniel Thigpen, Rakalam Bob Moses, Graham Lear, Emmanuel and Rubben Agbeli, Daniel Alfonso, Carlinhos Pandeiro de Ouro, Jorge Alabe, Mamady Keita, Jerry Leake, Takaaki Masuko, Rafael Maya Alvarez, Hector ‘Tito’ Matos and Subash Chandran (whew!), and am still constantly on the lookout for new people to acquire more rhythms and concepts from. Many of my favorite musicians (and many of my teachers listed above) also happen to be among those who have proven themselves to be consummate and lifelong students.

Not sure who first said that “once you stop learning, you start dying,” but this is so true in every area of life. It applies to any and every worthwhile endeavor. No learning . . . no growth.

So, how long does one need to take lessons? Umm . . . I’ll get back to you on that.

—–

I’d love to hear about your experiences in ‘lifelong learning.’ Tell us all about it in a comment below!

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• How Long Until I’m Good?

We’ve all heard the timeless advice “dress for success.” And most of us probably agree on the importance of wearing the appropriate attire for a given job. Well, in my line of work, ‘dressing the part’ could mean just about ANYTHING!

I’ve got to admit it, I’m a fan of costumes. Playing gigs in them . . . even better! Classical musicians often wear all black. Big band musicians might have to pull the tuxedo out of the closet. I’ve certainly done both of those. The way I see it, any other performance outfit (provided it’s appropriate for the gig) is no different. It’s the right thing for the job. And if you’re going to go, go all out!

In no particular order, here’s a list of some of the get-ups I’ve found myself drumming in over the years:
(click on thumbnails to view larger images)

—–

1. Ah, how it all began! I recall a young Seth Waterhouse and I borrowing one-piece, full-body sheep outfits for our gig at the local teen center.

2. Then there were the gigs with that 500-year-old Jazz Vamypre, Burt Klein. I had to disguise myself as a werewolf to avoid falling prey to any of the night-dwelling creatures in his Arkestra of the Undead.

3. I’ve recently been getting called up a lot to fill-in as an 80′s nerd rocker with the Spazmatics. But what a bunch of geeks . . . total dweebs.

4. Back in the ol’ polka band days, I might have been seen from time-to-time sporting a pair of grey leather lederhosen, along with the typical suspenders, knee-high wool socks and Austrian cap. But I wouldn’t admit that publicly. Oops, just did. I eventually outgrew them and was left with a serious decision to be made. Drop the cash on a new pair, quit playing in polka bands, or start Nair’ing my legs. I chose to spare myself anymore humiliation and git while the gittin’ was good.

5. The only gig I get to come up front and dance the Hustle on . . . the world-famous Afrodisiacs! Love slammin’ out those disco grooves . . .

6. One of the most motley crew of misfits I’ve had the pleasure(?) of working with is Dr. Kickbutt’s Orchestra of Death. That KB was a slave driver, and insisted that we wear old smelly suits and play instruments that we weren’t any good at. Terrifyingly funny . . . and kinda fun . . . kinda.

7. One of my favorites is laying into my 26″ Gretsch bass drum onstage with hip-hop artist/producer Einstein. New shows being booked now- stay tuned!

8. Wahoo, Nebraska. Their claim to fame: Once labeled by David Letterman as the “Home Office” for his Top Ten lists. My claim to fame: Probably not allowed back, after some old farts thought I was playing drumset buck naked. I was wearing boxers. I swear. But apparently it didn’t look that way with a snare drum right in front of me.

9. I seem to recall a really twisted Halloween prog-rock show that featured myself and Optic bandmates as a very evil Three Little Pigs. But that might have just been a bad dream. No more caffeine before bed.

10. The most recent addition to this list is the mohawk I donned for two shows with 80′s punk rockers, the M-80s. The bass player thought it exhibited my extreme commitment to the band.

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And a couple of Not-So-Honorable Mentions: two potential shows ideas that (perhaps thankfully) never saw the light of day . . .

11. A band of hippie cowboys. The working title was Drifter, named after a Portland-area Pale Ale.

12. And, I can’t believe I’m putting this on the interweb, but there was talk (okay, more than talk, we did promo shots) of putting together a band of dudes, dressed in drag, playing strictly chick tunes. But it never happened, so no opportunities to come out and heckle me live! Sorry.

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Ever worn anything unusual to a gig or job? I really want to hear about it. There’s no way you can embarrass yourself more than I just did myself. Comment below and share with the rest of us!

Related Post

• Got Any Good Gig Stories?

It’s true. I continually fail at far more attempted endeavors than I’ll ever succeed at.

Lost auditions, school rejection letters, unaccepted grant applications, uninterested publishers, girls who wouldn’t give their number, uncompleted projects, ideas that proved to be altogether worthless. I’ve seen it all- and that’s the short list. The long one just might be too much for you to read, and too humiliating for me to bear.

But failing so many times, and so often, is exactly the reason I choose to push onward, following every silly notion that arises and regularly juggling multiple undertakings. Doesn’t make any sense? Read on!

I’ve previously mentioned how ideas from one area of life or business can be repurposed to fit your life and circumstances. The case of failure is no different.

100-10-1

In the past, I’ve heard that advertisers and marketers have often figured that for every 100 people interested in their product, 10 will seek out more about it, and only 1 will actually make a purchase. In all honesty, those numbers are actually probably quite optimistic. But it’s the concept, rather than the hard and fast statistics, that’s important. Just as other information science rules (such as Pareto’s 80/20) are “cross-platform” and applicable to many parts of our lives, so too is 100-10-1 applicable to failure.

The way I see it, of every 100 zany ideas that pop into my head, I’ll most likely only set out to pursue 10 of them. Some of those won’t be followed through on. Some will turn out to be duds- stupid ideas that I eventually realize were a waste of my time. Some will go over like a lead balloon when presented to the world. Ultimately (and if I’m lucky), I’ll make it through to the finish line with 1, and it’ll be halfway decent. Score! Oh, sweet success!

That’s why I said above that “failing so many times, and so often, is exactly the reason I choose to push onward, following every silly notion that arises and regularly juggling multiple undertakings.” I realize that, in order to reach even a few goals and attain the handful of successes that I’d like, it’s necessary to start off on a whole pile of soon-to-be failed attempts.

As I’m writing this, I just happened to glance at tonight’s to-do list that I wrote this afternoon. Of the ten items listed, I see that only three are crossed off (this post being one of them). The other seven may, or may not, get done tonight, this week, or ever. But I guess that 3 out of 10 puts me a bit ahead of the curve!

I’m going to get crackin’ and will keep you posted on future fails. In the meantime, comment below about your own, and check out these posts on the topic by a few of my favorite bloggers!

• Why Do We Fail?: by Carlos Miceli at OwlSparks.com
• Famous Failures: by Daniel Decker
• Embracing Embarrassing Mistakes: by Benny Lewis at FluentIn3Months.com

Want to make a full-time career out of your music, art or other creative interests? Part of my reason for blogging is to encourage you to do so, and show you how! But first, let me try to talk you out of it. Before stepping out on that long, difficult road, seriously consider the following:

Are you doing it for fame and fortune? Ha- good luck with that! Although it IS true that your ego may get stroked from time to time, and there IS money to be made in the Arts, do NOT be doing it for those reasons. Do it only because you love it, and absolutely can’t imagine doing anything else with your life. If not, failure is inevitable.

You really want to be self-employed? Badly enough? Then fully realize that that means you are working for yourself. No one is going to give you a pat on the back, thank you for your dedication to the company and hand you a check for this week’s 30+ hours of overtime you put in. Be prepared to work your butt off. Your product is you. And you are selling it constantly- night and day. There’s no “off” switch. It’s what you chose to do . . . so deal with it. No whining or pouting allowed. You alone are responsible for your future successes and failures. Nobody else. If you bust your balls, you may find a way to come out ahead. Drag your feet, and you’ll drown for sure. If that sounds like too much work, quit now. Grab the local paper, open up to the classifieds, and get a ‘real’ job.

Still with me? If, even after hearing all that, you still want to forge ahead and carve out your own little niche in the creative world, stay tuned right here. You are in the right place . . . several forthcoming posts are all about how you can do exactly that! We’ll be covering creative income sources, self-promotion, branding and other topics. But I also want to introduce some ideas that, most likely, fewer musicians and artists are aware of and implement in their careers: timeboxing, virtual assistants, personal assistants, Pareto’s 80-20 rule and social media.

Ready to get a bit outside the box, roll up your shirtsleeves and put in some hard work? Excellent! Then subscribe above, comment below and let’s get started! And please let me know about any topics that you would like to see covered in future posts.