Outside my window...

I can hear the sounds of leaves falling, the wind rustling, the traffic of downtown, and the train whistling as it heads towards its destination.  The sun passes rays through my window, casting shadows and mysterious flying particles in my apartment, which smells of Lavender and Vanilla.  My bedroom is chilly but still comfortable as I keep warm in my cable knit sweater and sip my coffee.  The skies are blue and gray with a sadness about them, although they are happy to bring about their melancholy regime.  My bed is unmade, with the covers in disarray.  Grisha wakes up from his sleep and begs me to come back to bed, but I merely smile.  The train whistles again.  This is the temperament of Autumn.

Suffice it to say that I am wholly content.  The season and my heart align perfectly, and I gladly welcome Fall, in all its glory and beauty, just so I can ride my bicycle across the dancing leaves.  Everything is beautiful! 

... And now I must get up and practice for a lesson I have with Tzveta.  

The Niche

I really wish I could afford the luxury of sleep these days.  Life has become an adventurous conglomeration of being too overwhelming, exciting, depressing, and shocking all at the same time.  

I decided that I've been unhappy with myself as a musician lately.  The root of all my apathy and struggles is probably with the competition and how I seemingly and unintentionally keep telling myself that I'm not cut out for it.  I want to be, though.  I want to seriously grow and master my craft, for the love of music and all that transcends it.  The path to become the better musician is always the biggest obstacle.  Gandhi once said that the journey is more important than the destination because either way you'll get to where you want to be, what matters most is how you'll actually get there.  I've just been at such a loss -- sound and control are my biggest challenges this year.  In a way, I find that this is also an identity-related issue because I still don't even know my own niche in the world of music.  Who am I as a musician?  The passion is there, caged within my romantic skeleton, but where is the emotion that produces the sound?  Self-realization seems so far ahead.

In a rut and a bit of a funk, once again.