I’ve been working unreasonable hours lately. All on my own will though. My supervisors have made it perfectly clear that any overtime I work is completely optional. I suppose it’s better than mandatory overtime. I’ve been doing it to keep busy. It’s sort of pathetic that to fill up my time, I decide to take on additional mind-numbing work. But it’s what I’m doing.
You would think that working 36 hours in the last three days would make me tired. But no, I’m just about wide awake around midnight, listening to my new favorite album – Chamber Music Society by Esperanza Spalding. Buy it now. It’s wonderful. It’s one of those albums that’s like a new discovery every time you listen to it. I may be speaking prematurely since I just got it yesterday. But I have listened to it about eight times today. The strings are beautiful and make me want to collaborate with other string players to create beautiful improvisatory avant garde pop jazz songs. If only I had those skills and actually played my violin more than a half hour once a week. During which, I play exclusively Suzuki Book 1 with an eight year old who likes mustard on pancakes (true story).
I decided to stay after the lesson this week to play on my own. It was rough. My fingers have sort of forgot how to vibrato properly. I lost my bow grip about five years ago and have since been struggling to get it back. My six month hiatus didn’t exactly help that. Regardless, it felt good to be making sound again. I’m not ready to call it music. Right now, it’s just some horse hair across some steel making sounds in some sort pattern. It will eventually become music though. And I’ve already made plans to collaborate with a cellist to play some duets together. I think it will be fun. From what I understand, he’s also returning to playing after having not played seriously for months. So if initially we suck, at least we’ll suck together.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I was this lost in an album. It’s beautiful in such a terrible way. It makes me nostalgic for moments I have yet to experience. It makes me want to drink a single glass of white wine and cook an amazing italian meal for myself and a handsome man. It makes me want to sit alone on a patio and watch a storm roll in. I also want to eat meringue for some reason.
I’m doing my best to focus on myself right now. I’m trying to remember the things I was once passionate about. The last time I remember really being on my one was my freshman year. I was excited about so much. About music and art and lovely quotes that I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. I was eager to express myself by whatever means available. This resulted in decoupage, about six new playlists a week, a devotion to Bukowski and beat poetry that last about three months, and a fierce coffee addiction. Looking back, I was immature about a lot of things. But of course I didn’t see it that way. I saw myself as a cardigan-wearing maverick who happened to be really excited about pretty words. I was also very clever and mature for my age. [read: I made some foolish decisions, read some very bad books, and thought I was hip when I introduced friends to awful bands they hadn’t previously heard of.]
I’m getting back to that point – not the 18-year old naivete, because that would be terrible, but getting back to seeing myself as an individual who is free and morally obligated to discover herself. Right now, this consists of working 50+ hours in a cubicle every week, reading terrible best sellers , listening to jazz that makes me feel like I’m seeing it live, working through Soulpancake, trying new recipes, and accurately designing how my new bedroom will look.
Anyway, I’m starting to lose concentration, so I think it’s finally time I go to bed. But I’ll leave you with this, just because I can’t stop listening to this song.