I can't remember the last time I didn't go out at least once on a weekend. Truly. Between the laid back schedule, stable income, and no shortage of partying friends, I don't think I have spent both Friday and Saturday night alone since I moved here.
Until this weekend- duh duh duh.
Funny how my post about my totally calm and introspective weekend is starting to read like a dramatic tale...
The roomies are out of town, so I've decided to take advantage of having this big wonderful house (the first place 'round here that feels like home, by the way) to myself. Some of the activities I have participated in that I would never do while the roommates are home include- yoga in the living room, leaving various plates and cups in different corners of the house all day, listening to bachata ridiculously loudly on the main speakers and...well actually, I guess that's really it.
Both Friday and Saturday have consisted of sleeping late, practicing a lot, working out, and watching an entire season of Six Feet Under. Woo hoo.
I've loved every minute of it!
Friday morning my sleeping in was interrupted off and on (thanks for the text messages and annoying doorbell ringing, BP) but the knowledge that I could sleep in as long as I damn well pleased is really the fun part. This morning my sleeping in was entirely unintentional. The idea was to get up early and do some yoga before my three hour English conversation class, since I knew that would help it to not feel like 1 hour of fun and 2 hours of pulling teeth. However, all alarms failed to sound, and I woke up to the squeal of a cat at exactly 9:30. Not having a car and having to be somewhat far away at 10 was not a nice combination of circumstances in that moment. But it was fine.
I'm really getting back into a practice schedule that resembles that of what I need. I've done my maintainence routine every day for two weeks and it's amazing how that's basically what it took to make my not-so-new embouchure feel not-at-all-new. I'm comfortable all the way up to my new found, not fuzzy B-flat, and I'm starting to have a clue about the intonation tendencies of most notes. Still not a lot of endurance, but that should come.
I've been exercising consistently as well, and it feels great. It's gotten to the point where I look forward to it, rather than dread it, and that is the worst part of getting back into the habit. Yoga and running- both things I love because they exercise the body, the breath, and the mind, much my like my first true love...playing the horn.
And the Six Feet Under has been fun too. I'd say the fourth season is the worst so far (more drama, less point) but it's still totally entertaining. And I'm noticing how when I watch 5 hours of a TV show in one day I start to imagine my life as being like the TV show. Like I'll pause to look at a picture I've had in my room for a year and I imagine the camera zooming in and then cutting to a flashback or something...is that totally weird, or do other people do that too? Of course it doesn't hurt that on this particular show one of the characters is named Claire and another is actually a professional horn player (no way! There was one scene in which he was practicing and it was so funny because the focus was supposed to be this dynamic between him and his girlfriend and all I could think was, what etude is that...?)
Anyway, so it has been a very very low-key, disciplined weekend. I've accomplished every single thing I set out to do every day (there were some annoying errands and other to-do list items in there, promise) and that's felt really great. Nothing much has happened to me and I feel great. I've been thinking a lot about integrity and being committed to the stuff I care about. I haven't been lonely one second. It's weird.
So maybe what I need is not to fill up these holes I feel sometimes with parties, new friends, crazy conversations, or nights on the town. Maybe I need to get back to what's inside of me- my goals, values, peace of mind, and fill the holes from the inside out. Maybe I've been silly enough to not even realize this until recently. Maybe I've been lucky enough to figure it out now.
Oh, and the worrying is over. It's true, he had a pretty darn good excuse but I haven't bothered to call him since. Alas...
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I sometimes imagine that I am in my own television series or in a movie, especially when I have been watching a lot. When I've been reading a lot I become part of a novel and begin to narrate my life in my head. I'm not sure if that's bizarre or not. I don't really care anymore.
Maybe you don't actually have "holes," but now you feel more powerful about what you do? Just wondering, I don't actually know. It's interesting to see how your life develops in writing.
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