Thoughts

She asked me last night if I still listened to classical with the same fervor that I used to. In truth, I hesitated and said no. It had, in fact, been so long since I had scrolled my iPod's clicker to that category--so long, when once a composer was all in the world I wished to be--to develop my family's talent for music through the page. My mother was gifted with the voice; I was gifted with the ear. And how I have wasted it.

And tonight, scrambling down the tenebrous streets of the city, I clicked away from the ephemeral guitars and drums that have been my fare for so long, clicked again and found my old love. There is something about classical music that suits the solitary: immerse yourself in it, feel it, and it becomes something like communion with the divine. Perhaps it is the lack of words that produces this feeling: words and voices remind the soul of other people, and while you listen to music with these elements, it is in general other people that you notice and turn your thoughts towards. Perhaps this is why so many songs are about love. But as I walked down among the shadows of 56^th Street to the hushed strings of Corelli, I noticed things that have largely slipped my notice: the leaves as they squeeze out from the buds after their long slumber, the rabbits and raccoons that oddly make their home in this most urban of places, and the faint glimmer of the stars that wrestle with the glare of the city for attention. For the first time in so long, the people faded, and nature was again revealed.

Where have I been? What have I been doing for, what has this been, three years? Is this why I've slacked in my studies? Is this why I've abandoned the pen and sought comfort instead in the shallow affections of other people? A simple neglect of the music that has always stirred me the most? Rediscovering it is almost akin to hearing a mother's voice and recognizing it after she has long been lost.

Spring has begun. I feel it now; it is not merely enough to see it. I wish to become who I once was again. To struggle with the stars, to drink in the beauty of life, and to strive for what lies beyond the horizon. Let this be my spring. And may there never be another winter.

It has been so long since I have felt alive.

My absentee adviser is going to call me this morning from London. I'm so tired right now that I don't even feel like making an effort to cram before she calls.

I've been slacking on this lately, I know. I was planning a date this weekend with an interesting girl from UI-Chicago, but I received a e-mail yesterday saying that she's too swamped and stressed from her work and her studies and that she simply doesn't think that now would be a good time to meet. In some cases, this would be a veiled write-off, but knowing her, I actually believe her. I still haven't written anything back. I want to say that I must be every bit as stressed as she is and that we both could use the time off, but that has something of desperation in it. Last weekend, I went out on another date to see Neko Case with someone. This girl was amazing, and everything I've been looking for. She likes photography, French poetry, and Italy. But alas, she's one inch taller than I am. This doesn't bother me, but maybe it bothers her (no, she gave no indication that it does). Sigh. I find this particularly amusing since it's a question that has come to mind in another relationship I'm involved in.

Partially because I was bored and partially because I wanted to mope (I can be honest!), I played World of Warcraft like I haven't in a while and went on my guild's Blackwing Lair run. After clearing the joint in a couple of hours, I was dismayed to find that my staff that I've been wanting didn't drop. Such a waste of time.

So now I'm sitting here waiting for the sun to come up. I think I'll head down to Walgreen's and do something shamelessly indulgent like grabbing a Fifth Avenue bar to eat. That's one thing I love about Chicago: the Fifth Avenue bars. When I went home to Texas, I scrounged around in convenience stores from Tivoli to Austin and couldn't find one.