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.

The Nostalgic

I'm obsessed with my new apartment.  I'm extremely pleased with the way it has turned out, and I look forward to spending the next couple years here.  Even my parents were satisfied with this flat, and they normally have opposing views towards my taste.  I'm getting a piano delivered on Saturday, and since Friday is pay-day (thank God), I'm going to buy another bookcase as well as a dresser.  Sadly, I cannot live out of these tubs and suitcases for any longer or else I'll fall apart during the semester, and I will not allow myself to do that.  Pictures to come once I get my Canon back.

My old best friend Jon recently sent me a picture he took of me a year and a half ago while we were prancing around downtown Norfolk on a lazy afternoon once we got out of class.  It's funny how a photograph can have so much meaning to it based on the content.  Thinking about Jon, what the picture entails and how that day went made my heart feel warmer and pump faster.  I remember almost every detail of that Wednesday afternoon.  I remember sitting in the passenger seat, with our good friend Justin in the back, as Jon drove out of the school parking lot and headed off to downtown through I-264, a rough and winding 40 minute drive.  We were at last and once again a trio jumping fences and dodging police officers, causing mischief in back alleys in broad daylight.  We had no possessions worth taking, except of course Jon's precious Canon and some cash.  The simplicity of remembering such details all of a sudden made me feel very lonely and very whole at the same time.  Perhaps it was the nostalgia of actually having that one best friend in high school that you could always rely on to save you, get you, and complete you, and then finally realizing that the both of you have gone your separate ways now and are no longer the pair you once were.

I clicked the link to the picture, sending me to Jon's Flickr page where I saw the image and a comment above it that read "I should be a better friend".

The Alibi

This morning I called my supervisor and told her I had food poisoning.  I'm taking the day off and heading to Richmond with the Sara(h)'s.

The Darjeeling Limited

Today was the perfect Sunday of the summer; sitting with my temporary roommates in the living room, watching Wes Anderson's the Darjeeling Limited, with the dialogue playing against the sounds of a storm conjuring up outside.  The rain plays constant beats against the surface while thunder rolls across the sky.  Still in my nightgown, I put on my gray cardigan and black boots and step outside to smoke a cigarette on the porch.  Sarah joins me and we talk about how we are both looking forward to going back to school soon.  It's only a matter of weeks now until we go back to see the same people who left Harrisonburg while we stayed behind.  I'm not exactly sure if I'm ready to see all these people again; I'm never ready to get jumbled up into the obligatory social scene.  I guess it just happens and you get caught in it by chance.

I move into Madison Terrace on Friday.  

The Bad Phone Call

I woke up in a good mood today, got dressed for work, and headed off on my bike feeling like sunshine.  I had a nice quiet lunch break, drinking coffee and sketching some designs while enjoying the sounds coming from the streets of Harrisonburg Renaissance.  I came back to my cubicle, put on my headset, and then the phone call happened.  The man I had to deal with today is probably the worst thing to ever exist when it comes to customers.  He was insulting, uncouth, uncooperative, and insanely egocentric, flipping out over something as silly as UPS 2-day shipping.  He then lost it completely when I asked him to calm down, and he stated that "he's the victim and should be reprimanded" and blah blah blah.  I'm embarrassed that I actually got nervous enough to cry as soon as he got off the phone.  I can't imagine how much his life must really suck if he's going to get all bent out of shape over something as secondary as this.  But I guess his kind must inevitably exist amongst our society, it's just a pity for those of us who actually have to deal with them.

On a more relevant note, I'm glad it is seemingly cooling down in terms of the weather lately.  I keep thinking that Fall will occur once August is over, but I'm completely wrong; Fall usually doesn't swing by until October or even November.  I just want to be able to kick my feet in the autumn leaves and bundle up in tights and corduroys again.  Walking down a street colored in earth tones and orange is one of the loveliest sensations I've felt thus far.  Ironically, Fall is the period to which I've associated more memories of the past than any other, and I always seem to grow a bit more nostalgic during those few months.  I've unintentionally designated all of my greatest romances, trials, victories, and failures to a single season; it is where I am at both my happiest and saddest moments in life.  

... But the air is just so crisp and filled with the wind that carries itself across the seasons.