Closet Drumming

Recently I attempted to play Mom's drums and in an instant I was hooked. Now I find that I can't help myself: I must find an outlet for this desire to beat something with sticks.

In the opening scene of the movie "It Might Get Loud" Jack White makes a very basic electric guitar from a glass bottle, wires, piece of board and an amplifier screwed into place below the wires. He then plays it and comments "Who says you need to buy a guitar?" Inspired, I decide to make do with what I've got laying around the house. Lets see, a couple of long pens with strange rubber ends, and a very solid book chosen from the enormous pile on my night table (thanks Dad, I'm using your copy of "The Upside of Down" for a drum pad at the moment).

After settling Daniel into painting I rush off to my bedroom and bring out my drum pad and sticks. Ahhh, at last. Holding the sticks in my hands I raise one then let it drop onto the drum. TAT! The sharpness of the sound focuses my mind. All of a sudden I'm released - the worries of the day slip away and I disappear into the racket of my drumming.

At first I sound terrible; like pebbles falling randomly onto a tin roof. Whack-tap thud. Then as I become used to the weight of the sticks and my hands begin to better translate what my mind is thinking, the sound improves (a very little bit, mind). I'm able to do a drum roll, keep time with some music and my attempts to duplicate some snare drum music from my pipe band days are hilarious! Dah-dah te, dah-dah te, dah-dah te... I play for the entire 45 minutes of relative solitude after arriving home. As Daryle walks through the front door, I tuck my secret away quickly and resume my normal life. The one where I look after dinners and laundry. "Hi Hon, how was your day?"

All evening I long to drum. When I fall asleep I drum in my dreams. It is beginning to take over - I can feel my obsessive compulsive tendencies sharpening their focus again. The recollection of how the waves of sound washed over me comes back every time I close my eyes. It is a shame that Daryle dislikes noise in general - he actually cringed when I tried Mom's drums on Sunday. It wasn't just that I sounded awful, it was the sharp sounds and volume that really bothered him. I think I'd better keep this under wraps for now - but he'd better brace himself, I won't be able to contain it for long!

I can't wait to get home from work and play again, even if only for a few minutes. In anticipation, my foot is already keeping time to the music in my head and my hands are itching to pick up the sticks. I foresee a spree of instructional DVDs and books being borrowed from the library and the purchase of some sticks and a practice pad. Look out world - it might get a little louder!