Those of you inquisitive enough to check my links probably noticed the music page doesn't work. There's a reason for that -- I'm lazy. But it goes beyond that.

I had the music page on the first incarnation of my personal Web site, back in 1995. I'd just started college then, and was still deciding whether I wanted to be reviled for being a hard-hitting journalist or a perfection-driven band director, and both took up residence in my online persona. (In fact, my first screen name was "MoyaSax.") Writing has always been my real passion, though, so it eventually won out. Then again, the noisy, apathetic, untalented kids going for an easy A didn't help music's cause.

Nonetheless, I kept playing all the way through college, kept learning, and eventually became the second-ranked jazz saxophone soloist at UNM. (As a non-music major. That pissed a lot of people off.) I served as an unofficial section leader in the marching band and pep band, too, by my sheer energy and amount of time served. Outside school, I had a few side projects, but nothing ever got off the ground. That should have been a sign.

The music just stopped when I graduated. Not having an ensemble for which to rehearse meant I had no impetus to practice (I'd never been the type to go home and work on scales or arpeggios or -- God forbid -- long tones), and so my horn got put aside. I'd pick it up once or twice a year, but even that wasn't the same. It wasn't the music I missed, but the group, and that's hard to come by in the real world. When I realized I hadn't participated in a new ensemble in over two years, I took that section off my Web site.

I don't know if you were ever a band geek. You might have been in band, but if you flinched when I called you a band geek, you weren't one. Acceptance of the label is the true sign. And if you're old enough to have aged out of damn near every ensemble through graduation, attrition or just plain yearsiness, you recognize that empty spot inside that used to be reserved for your band. It's like, OK, I've spent the last nine years of my life devoted to this group, but since I can't be in it anymore, now what?

Sometimes you keep your chops up, but more often, the horn gets pushed under the bed, or stashed on the closet shelf in your old bedroom at your parents' house, collecting dust. You keep telling yourself you're gonna start again, but things come up ... you're tired from work, your spouse needs to sleep, your dogs chased a frog into the house again and you need to trap it and take it out. These things become barriers between you and your music, and the longer you wait, the bigger the barrier gets.

I'm proud to say that as of today, I've climbed my barrier. I'd tried to join a community band in Albuquerque, but just rolled back down because they rehearsed on nights I had to work. But here in Orlando, I've discovered a group that not only plays, but marches too! My dream of being in an all-ages marching band has finally come true -- only don't call Heatwave Drum and Bugle Corps a "band" in front of the directorship. It means I have to learn a whole new instrument, but I'm more than willing to tackle that challenge.

So this afternoon I went to the first rehearsal of the 2007 season. They handed me a mellophone and a folder full of music, and I cacked my way through two hours of warm-ups and sightreading. It's only the fifth or sixth time I've played a horn with valves (I know trombone too), and only the second time I've touched a mellophone in my life. But they're understanding, they're willing to let me practice, to help me out, to get me up to speed. At the same time, they're pushing me, which is really what I need to make me practice.

So now, my lips are shot, my shoulders hurt, and my head is throbbing a little from reaching for those high notes. But that hole inside me? It feels like something's growing there again. And eventually it'll make something grow into that broken link on the side of my page.