One Man Band

Whenever a long weekend approaches, I make a list of all the things that I want to get done. I figure that if there's an extra day to do everything I need to do, there's no way I can't finish.

Wrong.

At the end of the long weekend, nothing on my list ever gets marked off. Nothing. Some things I had to do this past weekend: grocery shop, clean out closet, hook up Blue Tooth, laundry.

What I actually did: read. sleep. Rock Band. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I'm somewhat decent on the guitar. Mind you, I still jam on Medium. I tried hard, and FAILED before vocals even started. My excuse for not going past Medium is simple: I want to enjoy playing. When PS3 becomes a chore, that's when I walk away. So being the bad ass rocker chick that I am, I finished the solo tour on guitar. Instead of running down my list of things to do and actually doing one of them, I decided to try the drums.

I nearly passed out.

On Easy. When I'm on, I'm on. But when I'm off, I am most definitely off. I felt a sweat bead or two roll down the side of my face. My breathing became more rushed. I panicked. Drums was like an anxiety attack waiting to happen.

Fortunately my roomie arrived and saved me. So I switched to vocals. I'm not bad when its girl songs. But when its boy songs, like KISS or Beastie Boys, well, my roomie basically summed it up: You need to grow balls.