I'm in a much better place. I can't tell you how I got here, but I'm happy I arrived. It's not great, but I'll never turn down better.
I need to learn some music. Specifically, I need to learn some audition songs. The local theater group I'm most involved with is doing "Company" next spring, I want to play April something fierce. Really, I just want to be in it. Before that will be other shows, and I need something I'm good at to sing for people.
Before I do that, I need to learn the words to the first Three Ladies trio in Magic Flute. I really need to know that by next Monday.
At some point, I need to finish the song I shouldn't be writing in the first place. That one is mostly done. I need to write the bridge, but I have not had the chance. I need to get it out of my system. Maybe then I can rid him from my bones.
Here's an improvised ditty for you (Brand new! Just for you!):
I get to the wall
Why a wall?
Why here?
I can't go up.
I can't go back.
This must mean I need to turn.
A new direction. Ha!
So I turn to my right
(My dominant side)
And walk with a wall to my left.
I walk, I jog, I run, I rest, I walk.
The nooks and crannies in the rock change as I pass
(This wall may always pique my interest)
But I look to my right,
and I am no closer to the tree in the distance.
Just around me I am sure the ground is changing.
There is no distance covered
And I am going nowhere fast.
But where else could I go?
I turn to my left.
I run as far as I can
(hat isn't very far)
I jog when I can't run
I walk when I can't jog
And I am no further from the distant tree.
I look up in anger
Where else am I supposed to go?
Why does my road stop?
I feel more alone
I look for shade to rest in
and find none.
I fall against this wall.
I can see where I've been on my one way road.
I close my eyes
I decide there is another way.
I open them,
and here, to my right, is a small pickax.
I look at the wall,
My wall
I realize this will be harder than I thought.
I whistle while I work.
Love to you.
So, ask me something.
You said: I suppose it's less about life vs. death and more about the mark you make isn't it?
I think it is. And I think a lot of people would really be surprised--shocked, in fact--to find out the indelible marks they have made, good or bad; how much of what we do and say to other people every day really IS heard or seen. With a word, a gesture - so little can mean so much.
Kinda scary, but also kind of amazing. Isn't it?