Drum Up Some Noise is a project based on the idea that sometimes, the best solution is to thrash the crap out of something. We take no responsibility for any breakages, but would love to hear a recording, see a video, or read a description of your efforts.


Here's how it all started.

And these are the people who've participated so far:

• Vee and Max whose entry can be found here or here. They've used proper percussion instruments, which just happened to be lying about the house.


• Me and Mr Bea whose entry can be found here or here. We've used a washing machine, two umbrellas, a dessert spoon and the empty bottles from all the wine we've consumed in our sorrow.


• Somewhat Ordinary who described her efforts in the comments here. She used her drummer brother's practice kit.

I'll be adding to this list over time. Advice on recording strategies coming soon...

Infertility can be such a secretive and isolating experience. Take this example: we have just returned home from a holiday in Vietnam. For the next couple of weeks, everyone I see will be asking, "So, your holiday, what was the highlight?" and I will not be able to say, "Menstruating."

"Oh yes," I would like to tell them. "It started with a little brown spotting in Ho Chi Minh City, and escalated to a rusty tinge during our tour of the Mekong Delta region. In the end I menstruated heavily all the way to Da Lat and back. It was fantastic. Want to see pictures*?"

I had some light, brown spotting during a visit to this temple in Ho Chi Minh City.

A woman pauses in her rice field to watch me as I start my period.

Here I am menstruating on the back of a motocycle in Da Lat, in the Vietnamese highlands.

Instead I will have to brush them off with the usual vagueness. "All good, you know." "The standard stuff." "Plenty to keep us busy." At least with this, if pressed, I can faciliate a change of topic by threatening a slideshow of over a hundred photos.

On a practical note, we have now entered MD's testing cycle. If you like to read about temping, urinating on OPKs, and undergoing endometrial biopsies, have I got a treat coming up for you!


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*Yeah, I had you going.

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If you want a more orthodox trip report, email me (infertilefantasies at gmail dot com) and I'll CC you onto the list when I send it to everyone.

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P.S.

The safe-looking Vietnamese coffee apparatus I purchased (left and right, foreground), along with the evil, finger-burning one (background).

"Do you know what the worst part about this is?" I said last night to Mr Bea, who (bless him) was still talking to me despite my injury-induced foul temper, some of which had been taken out on him directly*.

"What's that?"

"I'm going to get a scar across the top joint of my right, middle finger, where the skin has actually melted off exposing this raw, pink tissue underneath, and whenever someone asks me how I did it I'm going to have to say, 'Well, I was making coffee**,' and they'll say, 'Yes...?' and it'll be, like, 'No, that's it. There's no story.' Fuck. Another forty-eight hours and I could've at least made some lame joke about it being an old injury from 'Nam."

Because, you see, that's where we're off to tomorrow morning. Vietnam. But let me back up a little first.

My deed for the week was giving money to buskers, because it's not a grand living, some of them are really quite good, and it's so easy to walk on by. Besides which, approximately two thirds of the buskers in Singapore (according to my one-woman survey) are disabled and therefore have limited employment opportunities. There was some moral wrangling over whether giving money to bad buskers was actually the opposite of a good deed, but in the end I returned to the simple philosophy which will never make me a big wheel in welfare and charity funds allocation: spend less time worrying about where the money's going. Sprinkle it widely. Some of it will land in the right place.

I may post next Thursday, or not. I may read a little, or not. I hope you stay well while I'm away. I'll be reading So Close and thinking of you all the while***.

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Baby Blues sent me a very nice card, along with the travelling books, and it was purchased from Hands on Manila - an organisation dedicated to "alleviating poverty through income-generating projects". As of the time of card printing, HOM volunteers had devoted 417 hours in five different skills sessions. Thanks Baby Blues! I got a real buzz. Plus: you guys have handwriting. You do exist!

And I want to give a shout-out to Mel, who has cross-stitched for several charitable quilting projects in the past. This time it's for the Australian Version of Cole's Quilts, for a girl named Michelle. She is 16 and has maltese terriers so Mel is stitching a maltese terrier. The quilts are for critically ill children.

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*The rest - indirectly.

**I was using a metal stovetop coffee maker. I managed to melt some skin off one finger, blister a couple of others, and give myself a good scalding at the same time.

***I'll be reading For Whom The Bell Tolls as well, which will no doubt also remind me of infertility, although I'll have to work harder to draw the connection. I wonder how Hemmingway would sound as an infertility blogger?

"Que va," I said to myself, "that my period should arrive."
"It will."
"But that it should arrive soon. It hast been too long."
"It will arrive," I repeated, and stood, running my fingers absently against the contours of my breasts. There had been slight spotting in the week before last, but nothing which would indicate a full flow. I started to curse in a flood of obscene invective that rolled around me like the hot white water splashing down from the sudden eruption of a geyser.
"I obsenity in the milk of thy 'soon-ness'..."

Burnt hand. Owww. Money to buskers. Yay Mel for cross-stitching. Yay Baby Blues for card and books. Update tomorrow. Fuck. Ow.

Remember how last week I gave you a week to drum up some noise? Yeah. I wasn't thinking very clearly.

We're going away early Saturday morning, which is still Friday in some parts of the world, so I won't really be around to pull it all together. So! The good news is you have until Monday the 28th of May to drum up some noise instead.

So hit something! Record the sound, or a video, or describe the experience on your blog! It's good, I promise.

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Earlier this evening...

Bea: So, you're doing a PhD. What in?

Newly-introduced Person (NP): Life Sciences.

Bea: And what are you doing exactly?

NP: Research into biology, that kind of thing.

Bea: Right. (Thanks.) What aspect are you actually studying, yourself?

NP: Fruit flies.

Bea: And what are you doing with the fruit flies?

NP: Mainly feeding them.

Bea: What are you learning from them?

NP: Nothing at the moment.

Bea: Ok. But what are you going to learn from them in future?

NP: I don't know.

Bea: What are you aiming to learn from them?

NP: Not a lot.

Bea: Right.

NP: Mm.