2.10.11

surprise, it is... october! (what?!)

the days are running away, faster than the fading sunlight of the mid autumnal afternoon.  nights are melting into a silvery oblivion, elusive, vast yet so quick to pass by. it was only a week ago, things were hot, humid and hazy- baking under the last heat of the indian summer.  tonight, the city is full of people, walking the streets in the name of arts, nuit blanche, under the clear sky with a children's-book-perfect paper moon.  the sudden cold that appeared on the road just yesterday and fastened buttons, hands in pockets, hats and caps, happy to appear again to the outside, from the long summer sleep in the corner of the closet. the morning bike ride that results in stiff arms, chilled through that usual short ride to the campus.  sudden thirst for a mug of hot tea, steaming vapours, of the stories of high summer sun, captured through little tea leaves.  huddled shoulders and shirt collars turned up, to stroke little goosebumps that autumnal night wind created on back of still coppery summer skin.

there are many stories still untold from september. shame, i still have couple posts that are in the works.  of the places i went and the people i met. of the stories and human contexts so generally shared, with pleasure and grace.  of many thoughts and small sparks of life, through the very mundane everyday things- the mental stimulation of practice, the pleasure of making a beautiful sound, getting hang of the fiddle- literally a fraction of an inch at a time, i can say that i am a bit better (shame i dont get to practice it everyday!), as usual, expecting too much from self and others, new projects (including teaching little kiddies), the list goes on and on.  oh yeah, and also doing a knee-plant, falling off my bike in front of the dean, as i was in rush to get to class. so classy, i know.

and of the constants of my life.  of daily exchange- often pleasant and often controversial, around people in my toronto bird nest, high up on 32nd floor, as much as the stories of friends who are weaved through the invisible woolly fibres of chinley, told through the magic window from minnow.  of my parents, of my granny who recently had to relearn her route to the doctor's (but now she's made an appointment and went/came back successfully on her own, not bad for a lady of that age who doesnt speak english and with fragile knees), of my wee brother who pokes his little head out at all sorts of in/convenient times.

of unusual things- stressful situations with multiple choice exam that only lasted five minutes yet ruined an entire week, of found images from the corner of the streets, of intersecting friends while crossing borders and oceans/continents.  of unconditional love i receive from my dear ones.

these are my story and perhaps it does not matter to anyone else.  of course, why would anyone care about what seems to be a perfectly normal and inconsequential events of a small individual? well, i do and i do it because it gives me immense pleasure to be involved in everything i do.  and often, there is no time left at the end of the day to write or doodle about simple daily events, i am too busy to fall asleep, feeling slightly regretful that i have to wrap up a perfectly good day, to sleep.

tomorrow is another day with a meaningful project. working with a young person on a seriously (difficult) piece of music in preparation for a recording.  it's been a noisy process because i couldnt help (once again) being myself and wrote lines and lines of 'let's do it properly' email. i think i probably have freaked her out already.  but how it really will be, no one will know till tomorrow. and in order to do that, i would have to cut this post short and go to bed.

would this crazy cycle ever end?

ah, well, i certainly hope not.  i remember talking to a friend once, about boredom. i am a lucky man, i have not felt 'bored' in a long time. contrastingly, i have felt the urge to not let things go, to take another look, to take an extra stab at things, just to see if i could do /enjoy it better. i often wish the day is longer, as month of september just evaporated in front of my own eyes.  but it is silly idea- i will still manage to fill out the days, to the absolute max, glass that is almost too full.

all these things, i am grateful.  for the people who have helped to create a world where i, a wee person, can exist as i am (though being politically more savvy and diplomatic would help me in long run, much more efficiently than being a straight shooter i am now), and that i can enjoy being just another person, unremarkable and rather plain, in the world that can be too much at times.  but now, to sleep, this person.  because tomorrow is an important day. why? because it's another day i get to dive into. full-throttle. yay.


1 comment:

  1. and I'd like to add, amongst all these full-throttle activities, so eloquently presented in prose, that your fiddle sound is becoming smooth and violin-like in a very satisfying way. For me, your distant practice partner, and - I suspect- for you! A surprising branch has grown from your elegant tree of life; i look forward to your continued progress.

    ReplyDelete