sudafed high! sudafed high!

The only thing that is even mildly enjoyable about having a bug is getting to take cold medicine and have that warm fuzzy feeling infuse your body and wrap you up in loving numbness. Non drowsy, my ass, I'd love to take this happiness right into bed with me and spoon it. Also I can't tell if I'm a fucking amazing trombone player or if I just no longer care whether or not I mess up. I'd like to think the former.

I am constantly amazed when I get money for playing or teaching music. Today I got a whopping $350 from Ramona High School for coaching. $35/hour. Jebus. So I go there for two hours and earn almost double what I earn working for Penney's for eight hours. Because I have a degree. Because I am special. Wowie. This weekend I will make $270 dollars for playing six hours. I'm in love. I know that doesn't sound like much in the long run, but I'm not out to make big bucks or anything. The point is that I have a skill, and people want it. That I can make a living doing something I enjoy. I'd like to refute the "starving musician" theory and say that if you have the drive, and seek out the gigs, you're golden.

Okay, I do think I really want that warm fuzzy nap. Warm fuzzy bed, here I come!