It was weird/good/hard being back at Two Dog today. On the one hand, I’m really rusty at picking/packing tomatoes. On the other hand, it feels so good to work outside when the weather is this nice. It helps me to pay attention to the natural world in ways that I don’t habitually do.
Reed and I seem to get along alright. I’ve realized that he’s just a huge troll most of the time, and I just need to not feed him when he does that. I really like the direction of some of our conversations at work. For some reason these days I feel less good about me and Nibby’s habit of bringing snacks to the tomato pack. I think my metabolism is on the brink of a change, maybe. My body wants different things these days.
I forgot how it feels to get up at 6:00 AM. Ooof.
I’ve been spoiled these past several months. It’s a really good perspective to have, doing manual labor. Every decision I made at the beginning of this year has context again and I feel like my full self, in some sort of weird way. I wonder if I can balance part time Two Dog and a few cello lessons… now that idea seems appealing again. And it’ll push me to improve musically again, which, strangely, has sort of stopped being a drive for me.
My whole life revolves around balancing my loves for music and the natural world. I’m closer to striking that balance than ever before, feels like.
Ohhhh, such good crush feelings.
Future times haunted house adventure date? Soon Bonny Doon yurt living? “I wanna meet your parents?” Joking about our manual labor induced sleep habits by calling each other grandpa/grandma? Romping around eating asian pears and cape gooseberries in the Paul Sweet garden?
n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.
n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go back and reread the chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure.
Playing amplified can be really frustrating and boring.
Give me acoustic performances any day.
I am a positive person but I get really tired of aggressive optimism. If someone’s sad, let them be sad. All emotions have purpose. Sadness isn’t destructive if not prolonged. Sadness isn’t unproductive, as it offers awareness. Telling someone to “cheer up” or “be happy” is so ineffective and patronizing. The last thing a sad person needs is for someone to judge their feelings as pointless and unappealing. Welcome sadness, just don’t let it consume you.
I now have more percussion samples than I know what to do with.
Eep, this ought to be fun. I want more woodwinds though…
Last night I dreamed that a Jehovah’s Witness woman came in through the window at the house I was staying at, sat down while I was lying in bed in the living room, and started proselytizing. Uh.
Then I romped around Oakland/some weird hybrid of Arcata and San Francisco with Galileo, who I haven’t really talked to in months if not a year at this point. There were a lot of tall highway structures and lots of hills and the ocean. And the light was pretty. Sort of green-ish.
What is my subconscious (I almost wrote subcutaneous?) doing??
Find strength in your future self. That person has already done all this work and they are waiting for you to arrive. In twenty-four hours, in a week, in a year, you will be that person, and you’ll be looking forward, not backward.
favorite words from one of my favorite humans. (via calmfolly)
(Source: darksidedly, via ill-metbymoonlight)