CAN-fessions

That last post may have seemed a little negative.  Here are some things I *can* do.

I can play piano.  I'm not the best at reading music, though with guitar tabs supplied I can fake pretty well. Until last month I hadn't played an actual piano for years beyond counting. (Thank you so much, Nicole!)  There's a huge difference between the keyboards I have had (including the very good one I have) and a piano. The biggest thing is the range. Most synthesizers don't have a full 88 keys and you'd be surprised how often you need an extra octave or two, particularly on the bass end. The "feel" is completely different, too: a piano requires more strength to play. I still have the strength in my hands gained from years of pounding keys...my grip is impressive, if I do say so myself. I've been the go-to guy for every jammed jam jar and fickle pickle bottle for most of my life.

I've determined I can still play by ear--useful skill, that--and I'm writing original compositions for the first time since 9/11. I hope to get a piano of my own within the next year or so. When that happens this Breadbin will go stagnant again for a while, but...well, I'd like to put a few songs up on YouTube, if I can figure out how to do it.

I can write a little. Actually, lately I can write a lot. My output over the past month or so has matched that of the two years previous (by no means has all of it been posted to the Breadbin).  I've done some fictional stuff, a whole other journal, some very long letters, even a little poetry. Writing's a nice habit to get back into. If anything's going to get me noticed, either now or after I'm dust, it'll be the stuff I've written. I'm told my best writing is personal and I've taken that to heart (you'll note the political posts that once comprised more than half this Breadbin's content have become few and far between). I like writing about myself because "the unexamined life is not worth living".

I can read. In the last two weeks I've read three novels and three works of nonfiction. It's been a long time since I've read that much, too. I used to be good for two or three books a week, once. Screen time, not to mention adult responsibilities, dramatically cut into that, Yet another nice habit to take up again.

I can think. I'm not a Great Thinker: my wife would probably class me a Great Stinker instead. But I like to think. I like to find out I'm wrong about things: I like to change my mind after receiving new evidence. There is very little I have faith in (I'm just starting to learn to have faith in myself, at this late date) and the faith I do have is not blind.  But thoughts are fun. Thought experiments are fun. I like to think around corners, to whiten blacks and blacken whites and always, always try treat people as if they've put as much thought into their thoughts as I have into mine.

I can laugh, and I can make others laugh. Again, I'm no comedian, and like most of my skills, I'm better at making merry if I'm not trying. When I try, I tend to elicit groans instead of guffaws. Always going for the pun. It's like those two guys who showed up at my door the other day. One of them  did all the talking, and explained they were looking for a room to let. He pointed at his companion, who hadn't said a word the whole time, and asked, "Buddy, can you lair a mime?"
I said, "as long as he's not a German mime. You know, a Hun is the lowest form of roomer."

Groan, groan, I'll shut up now.

And I can love. That, above all.

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Lesser talents: For years, I couldn't whistle. Then one day I suddenly could, and for about three years year thereafter, you couldn't shut me up. I can do a pretty good Elizabethan Serenade and at least a passable Mexican Whistler (if you haven't heard Roger Whittaker whistle that last, do yourself a favour. Limber up your jaw, first, because it's a-gonna drop.)

I used to have pretty good breath control. With a brass instrument to play again, I'd get that back, I'm sure. As mentioned in the last post, I have a very high tolerance for heat (my showers are kind of scary)--and yet given the choice I'd much rather be cold. My pain tolerance is likewise high...but only for certain kinds of pain. Pinch me and I will shriek; punch me and I'll shrug; puncture me and chances are I won't even notice.

I can sleep. I'm about to do that now.