More adoxography
June's going by surprisingly fast for someone who sits on her ass and doesn't do shit all day.
Seriously, I've been back from China for a couple weeks, and I've been gradually metamorphosing into a pathetic waste of space. The first week back was good.
The first week, I was jet-lagged like no other, so I kept going to bed at 3:30 AM, waking up two hours later, not taking naps in the middle of the day, and I got so much done. I practiced. I read. I ate at socially normal hours. I was thrilled. I loved jet lag. Then somewhere along the line my body started adjusting to being back in the Western Hemisphere and I sank back into my old, awful habits of parking it in front of the TV for mind-numbing hours on end and catching up on my celebrity gossip and my Cosmo and my tanning.
Least I'm really tan now.
I repainted my room (the paint chip says the color's "Savannah Mist", but it's this minty soft green that totally brightens everything up) and got new furniture and bedding (a combination of prints and florals that Etro would be proud of) but the walls are bare because I haven't deemed anything worthy enough to hang up yet. Except the huge mirror at the head of my bed that looks like a sex mirror.
This is how empty my life is. I've been reduced to writing about sex mirrors on LJ because I have nothing to show for this summer so far. I spent all of yesterday watching "Curb Your Enthusiasm" reruns. My life is bland and uneventful and free of any kind of turbulence whatsoever.
And I love it.
I started practicing again yesterday, and it felt good. I want to get through an assload of repertoire this summer.
Time for Bach.
Seriously, I've been back from China for a couple weeks, and I've been gradually metamorphosing into a pathetic waste of space. The first week back was good.
The first week, I was jet-lagged like no other, so I kept going to bed at 3:30 AM, waking up two hours later, not taking naps in the middle of the day, and I got so much done. I practiced. I read. I ate at socially normal hours. I was thrilled. I loved jet lag. Then somewhere along the line my body started adjusting to being back in the Western Hemisphere and I sank back into my old, awful habits of parking it in front of the TV for mind-numbing hours on end and catching up on my celebrity gossip and my Cosmo and my tanning.
Least I'm really tan now.
I repainted my room (the paint chip says the color's "Savannah Mist", but it's this minty soft green that totally brightens everything up) and got new furniture and bedding (a combination of prints and florals that Etro would be proud of) but the walls are bare because I haven't deemed anything worthy enough to hang up yet. Except the huge mirror at the head of my bed that looks like a sex mirror.
This is how empty my life is. I've been reduced to writing about sex mirrors on LJ because I have nothing to show for this summer so far. I spent all of yesterday watching "Curb Your Enthusiasm" reruns. My life is bland and uneventful and free of any kind of turbulence whatsoever.
And I love it.
I started practicing again yesterday, and it felt good. I want to get through an assload of repertoire this summer.
Time for Bach.