jaimes

I’ve read that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to master something. That breaks down to roughly 20 hours a week for 10 years. I just started playing drums over the summer, and I practice for a few hours a week. So, it looks like I’ll be a drum master in my 70s, which is fine by me. I’d rather do that than play bingo anyway.

Joe Morello – Master jazz drummer

Buddy Rich – Master drummer with a mean temper

Karen Carpenter – Great drummer. Who Knew? I didn’t until my friend showed me this clip of her.

Senri Kawaguchi – Japanese drummer, age 13. She started playing at 5, so I’m guessing she crammed those 10,000 hours into 8 years. She’s amazing and adorable.

Ok, well I’m off to practice. I only have 9,900 hours to go.

Every now and again, the darkside of life takes me over, and I don’t feel like doing anything. Don’t want to write, hate my clothes, can’t think of anything good to eat. I call it the funk, and it ain’t pretty.

It started a few days ago when I made the mistake of going to Target sans makeup and going down the AISLE of MIRRORS. Wow. Bad idea. The lighting in Target is meant to inspire you to buy everything from trash bags to hand bags. It is harsh and unforgiving even on your best hair and makeup day.

The second clue that the darkside had descended upon me was when I watched the new show Parenthood and cried at least five times. Real tears. Not just the hint of tears that wells up during a sappy commercial. I mean full on crying. Let’s just imagine for a second me with no makeup on and balling my eyes out in the mirror aisle of Target. That’s the kind of mood I’ve been in for the last couple of days.

Because this is not my first time dealing with moodiness, I have figured out a number of ways to combat the funk.
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