Magazine musing
I read in a magazine once that sometimes we make excuses for the activities we put off--too busy, too tired--when actually it's just because we're afraid we'll fail.
The first thing that comes to my mind is school. School-- the word causes a cartoon-like cloud of guilt to form over my head. I'm so unmotiviated. It doesn't make any sense--I've worked at it constantly since the age of four, and I've spent so much of my time practicing and researching and doing everything I can to improve. But now that I'm in a place where I'm encouraged and guided, I prefer to coast by and promise to pick up the slack later. And homework is torture, which I must leave to the last second. I know I should be doing the theory homework that was due last week, or practicing for my tests. And I want too--seriously. I still want to know everything. I just can't do it. And I can't imagine having a job in this feild anytime soon, which is ironic, because I've had musical jobs before. It's like I'm going backwards.
I'm even dreading making a resume for the job-finding agency who I know can find me a job in a second. Do I deserve it? I may make an ass out of myself trying to do a job that I am underqualified for.
And certain highlights of the past are cycling quietly through me. Certain days seem like years in my memory, and yet the past two months are a blur. Apathy slowly gives way to panic. Why is it so hard to just be happy? I am happy, but it's a discreet, almost capitulatory joy. It hasn't sunk in that things are finally going exactly how I want them to go. Experience has taught me that to admit this is to foolishly welcome impending doom.
It's stupid. I'm home now-- I'll do my homework. I will make my resume. I will go visit him tonight and allow myself to be crazy about him. I'll let life be good.
The first thing that comes to my mind is school. School-- the word causes a cartoon-like cloud of guilt to form over my head. I'm so unmotiviated. It doesn't make any sense--I've worked at it constantly since the age of four, and I've spent so much of my time practicing and researching and doing everything I can to improve. But now that I'm in a place where I'm encouraged and guided, I prefer to coast by and promise to pick up the slack later. And homework is torture, which I must leave to the last second. I know I should be doing the theory homework that was due last week, or practicing for my tests. And I want too--seriously. I still want to know everything. I just can't do it. And I can't imagine having a job in this feild anytime soon, which is ironic, because I've had musical jobs before. It's like I'm going backwards.
I'm even dreading making a resume for the job-finding agency who I know can find me a job in a second. Do I deserve it? I may make an ass out of myself trying to do a job that I am underqualified for.
And certain highlights of the past are cycling quietly through me. Certain days seem like years in my memory, and yet the past two months are a blur. Apathy slowly gives way to panic. Why is it so hard to just be happy? I am happy, but it's a discreet, almost capitulatory joy. It hasn't sunk in that things are finally going exactly how I want them to go. Experience has taught me that to admit this is to foolishly welcome impending doom.
It's stupid. I'm home now-- I'll do my homework. I will make my resume. I will go visit him tonight and allow myself to be crazy about him. I'll let life be good.