The ten year old version of myself would kick me in the shins.
Lately, I have found myself doing some rather odd things that I have never done before. I am watching far less television by choice. Either I don't want the noise or the mindless lack of interaction, or I want to do something different... like reading... or listening to classical impressionist music... or songwriting... All three examples are tagged in ellipsis for the sake of incredulous emphasis. I have the distinct feeling that this feeling is not shared by those who know me well.
I am not ignorant of the fact that my tastes are widely varying. One moment, it could be Less Than Jake at full volume while driving Highway 17 with the windows down, the next it could be sitting for an hour in luxurious silence on our porch whilst sipping twelve year old Jameson. The thing is that I have noticed a shift further into the latter from the former as of late.
Just this afternoon, I sat and read over 100 pages of Never Have Your Dog Stuffed by Alan Alda. I have a dozen perfectly good episodes of Cheers on our DVR that I have never seen, having just now discovered the show's brilliance. But even this new pleasure has been slid to the side by (admittedly) less stereotypical endeavors than your average 28 year old indulges in.
Part of me wondered if I was feeling low. No, I really am not. I am damn happy. I am just surprised by my own evolution. I wonder what a younger version of me would say. I don't feel like I have "become better" or that the old self was boorish or immature. I was the way someone should be at whatever age I was. This time, I notice the shift much more as I edge closer to thirty than I noticed the changes I made as I got closer to twenty.
I feel that I want to do more with the time I have. There are certainly frivolous moments where I pass the time idly. But now, I really hate when those moments pile up. I clean more, write more, read more, work more, learn more and absorb more. I want every day to have a profound discovery, moment of enlightenment, or feeling of accomplishment. I haven't thought of myself as "lazy" since early in my college years, but now my inner drive has gotten even stronger for some reason. I want every day to be a day where I can say "That was worth it", and I tend to get angry at myself when I don't.
My ten year old self may kick me in the shins, but the me of today will walk away to the calming sounds of Claire De Lune. Peace...
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Release Valve
Sometimes, all it really takes to get your mind back where it needs to be is a few nights out with some great people. Why am I surprised that this worked?
Middle of this past week, I had hit a wall fairly hard. It was the first time since living in Chicago that I had felt worn in all departments. Mentally drained, physically just not up on my game, and low on karma for some reason. I needed a prescription for some feel good medicine, and this weekend delivered.
Enter some former students and a current colleague and their wonderful performance Friday night, attended to by yours truly with my babe-alicious wife at my side. A fantastic show with energy to spare, saw some wonderful old colleagues/acquaintances, then capped off the night with pints of the darkest ales at a place in Santa Cruz. But as the old saying goes, take two and call me in the morning...
Saturday night. Mexican food, high-class cocktails and other downtown nuttiness with my oldest friend. I stayed out past midnight two nights in a row. Curative powers? Who knows. Whatever juju was at play, it worked. I feel right again. Peace...
Sometimes, all it really takes to get your mind back where it needs to be is a few nights out with some great people. Why am I surprised that this worked?
Middle of this past week, I had hit a wall fairly hard. It was the first time since living in Chicago that I had felt worn in all departments. Mentally drained, physically just not up on my game, and low on karma for some reason. I needed a prescription for some feel good medicine, and this weekend delivered.
Enter some former students and a current colleague and their wonderful performance Friday night, attended to by yours truly with my babe-alicious wife at my side. A fantastic show with energy to spare, saw some wonderful old colleagues/acquaintances, then capped off the night with pints of the darkest ales at a place in Santa Cruz. But as the old saying goes, take two and call me in the morning...
Saturday night. Mexican food, high-class cocktails and other downtown nuttiness with my oldest friend. I stayed out past midnight two nights in a row. Curative powers? Who knows. Whatever juju was at play, it worked. I feel right again. Peace...
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Taking My Baby Soul For A Ride
Lately, I have been engrossed in a book for the first time in a long time. I can honestly say that aside from reading plays, this is the first time since reading Wonder Boys while on a ski trip with friends in late 2003 that I have found myself planning time to sit and read.
The book, Ghost Rider by Neil Peart, chronicles the aftermath of a ten month period in which he lost his daughter in a car accident and his wife to cancer. He drove, from Quebec to Alaska, down the west coast of Canada and the U.S.A., through Mexico all the way to Belize. I am about 60% through the book, so I don't know how much further he goes. But what kept striking me is his discussion of therapy. He frequently refers to his "little baby soul", likening it to an infant who when upset could benefit from the simple therapy of motion.
There is a lot going on in my life right now between the light at the end of the tunnel that is the final year of my masters, the show I am directing, my teaching responsibilities, and the usual family stuff. Thankfully, it isn't anything I can't handle. Things are quite manageable. But it still feels good to type it all out and voice it, even it just for myself. Maybe that is why I talk to myself so often. I just like to sound things out, even if they aren't "bad things".
So this is me, taking my little baby soul for a ride, figuratively speaking. In the end, that is what I think blogs are really about. So many people (especially in the real heyday of blogging back around 2002 or so) were all about how many readers they had. Hell, even I was on that train. But I think the reason I never deleted this thing in the name of anonymity or lack of use is that it still exists as a sounding board for myself.
Even if things are great, perspective is still a great thing to have. Sometimes, your brain can only get so full of whatever life may give you before you pour some of it out somehow. Peace...
Lately, I have been engrossed in a book for the first time in a long time. I can honestly say that aside from reading plays, this is the first time since reading Wonder Boys while on a ski trip with friends in late 2003 that I have found myself planning time to sit and read.
The book, Ghost Rider by Neil Peart, chronicles the aftermath of a ten month period in which he lost his daughter in a car accident and his wife to cancer. He drove, from Quebec to Alaska, down the west coast of Canada and the U.S.A., through Mexico all the way to Belize. I am about 60% through the book, so I don't know how much further he goes. But what kept striking me is his discussion of therapy. He frequently refers to his "little baby soul", likening it to an infant who when upset could benefit from the simple therapy of motion.
There is a lot going on in my life right now between the light at the end of the tunnel that is the final year of my masters, the show I am directing, my teaching responsibilities, and the usual family stuff. Thankfully, it isn't anything I can't handle. Things are quite manageable. But it still feels good to type it all out and voice it, even it just for myself. Maybe that is why I talk to myself so often. I just like to sound things out, even if they aren't "bad things".
So this is me, taking my little baby soul for a ride, figuratively speaking. In the end, that is what I think blogs are really about. So many people (especially in the real heyday of blogging back around 2002 or so) were all about how many readers they had. Hell, even I was on that train. But I think the reason I never deleted this thing in the name of anonymity or lack of use is that it still exists as a sounding board for myself.
Even if things are great, perspective is still a great thing to have. Sometimes, your brain can only get so full of whatever life may give you before you pour some of it out somehow. Peace...
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