The sun is setting. Downstairs I hear Bach and all its solemnity. My ass has been sitting all weekend. I might have become one with the sofa.
I turn off my music (Queen – I want to break free) so I can hear Bach better. It has always had a focusing effect on me. I used it to study for finals, and when those were done I was glad to turn Bach off again and remove the religious mist from my room.
Weekends are kind of a test for my existence. What to do? Where to go? I want to do something useful, practical, fun, adventurous, new. Yeah! Let’s do that! (Couple of minutes later I turn on my computer and that’s that. It is amazing how much time one can waste on internet). Procrastination. I suffer from that illness. Otherwise I am totally healthy. My doctor told me so on friday. I told her, like I tell my therapist, that something is very wrong with me. I can’t seem to be able to find my dreams and objectives amongst all my thoughts. “You WANT something to be wrong with you”, she tells me. “That way you would have an excuse for your laziness and lack of will”. She didn’t exactly use those words, but that is how I heard it.
Will, like sports, like brushing my teeth, is a habit. I think. (Opened Facebook to check my home page real quick, even though I checked it seconds ago. It’s addictive, I’m telling you. I even googled “Facebook addiction” once and found an article ,which I never finished reading cause I got distracted with Facebook).
The music downstairs stopped. We found my dad’s old LP collection. It’s mostly classical music. We bought an LP player, a new one. I wanted a vintage-looking one but we had to buy it in the States and then bring it to Ecuador so we just said, “What the hell” and bought this ugly one here. We are really excited about it, but the thing is we have to go downstairs and turn the LP around when one side is over. I thought it would be good to go back to this not-so-automatic way of doing things. Let’s see how long it lasts.
But since side A of Bach is over I will go back to my own music. I put play on my youtube playlist: Mystery Jets – Serotonin. It’s a really good song. It’s on my Favourites.
Anyway, weekends. Right. I always say I’ll leave the city, go camping, spot whatever place on the map and go there, talk to friends, talk to strangers, go for a coffee, bake a cake, learn how to play the guitar, figure out what to do with my life, find my dream job, (no boss, no schedule, no office…. I want too much), clean every LP and put them on new boxes. Wait, we did that already. Write. Writing is hard though. I think most people think it’s easy. You just sit down and scribble down whatever. But it’s not like that. It’s really hard. I read this quote the other day, by Thomas Mann, “A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.” It is so true, at least for me. I want to write everyday, but many times i just don’t seem to be able to do it. Words, reason, abstraction, it is tiresome and I am out of habit. Even when I get on inspiration mode and I am able to write for days and days in a row, I end up so tired and I can’t think or talk or do anything at all.
Ok, this post is long enough. THE END. Hey, Bach is back on.