Progress is a funny thing. Once you've moved forward, the position you were in looks different from that perspective. To take a step forward is inherently risky and can even reduce the position you were in. But we only move forwards and to stop is the worst of all worlds.
I've recently done a few fixes around the place. I made a small change to my car - I reinstalled the Tardis model on the rear view mirror. I did some fixing of radiator valves in the house, and made a few adjustments to wall hangings. This morning I ended up with a flat tyre on the car - a half a day lost to Kwik-Fit's terrible methods - and we now appear to have a water leak (nowhere near the radiators I touched) into the downstairs ceilings in the house. In the case of the car, it's a common experience that I fix something small, and something big seems to go wrong next - call it the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy if you will (because, coupled with confirmation bias and cherry picking, it is). In the case of the house, there may be a slight causal link. Either way, you kind of wish you hadn't bothered.
However, forwards is my favourite direction (I'm going to assume my car's gears will go next) and I have made a decent amount of progress since the last blog entry.
|A lead, earlier.|
For those people worrying about the broken audio lead that I was left with after my last gig, you can now rest easy. I dipped into my supply of audio connectors and did some soldering. I even managed to heat up my own fingers, just in case. The lead is now okey dokey. I've no idea why I get the Swedish Chef from the Muppets in my head from time to time, but I just did - he said "The flilm is now okey dokey" which I assume is the way my brain models the resolution of all technical issues.
Putting things right is part of moving forward, and I like fixing things.
A good friend of mine, Sian, said once that whenever her brain empties of thoughts, all that's left is the soundtrack from the musical "Oliver!", playing constantly in the background. I've not quite experienced this, but I've often had a particular song that's playing live in a loop in my head, phasing in and out of my perception, depending on how busy or tired I am.
To Sian, I now say this. Wait until you have kids. Oh my O.M.G! They teach you a lot in the ante-natal classes - mainly how to cope with a baby coming out of you, and how not to kill it in the first few days by doing something stupid, like popping it in the microwave or feeding it spam. What they don't teach you is what it's like to go to bed after a day playing with your child and any toys they have.
It's all about the Jingles.
So, at 39 years of age, I now go to bed with "Heads and shoulders, knees and toes" playing on a loop in my brain. It's playing now a bit. When it's not playing, I've got another catchy jingle ready to take centre stage.
And it doesn't matter.
If I stand in front of an audience of 200 people and make them laugh with my silly songs, it's nothing compared with the smiles and giggles of my little daughter when she sits on my knee and I try to teach her the moves to YMCA. She prefers "I'm a little teapot" and so she should.
The ante-natal classes, should also provide the lyrics to a bunch of well-known nursery rhymes, which I presently can only get about 75% of the words to. I shall be Googling.