One room next to mine is blasting jazz. In the next room over, someone is practicing a monologue. None of it bothers me, I like the noise, but I'm not sure why. I feel like I have been really busy all day, but I also feel like I haven't done anything at all. I missed having work to do, learning things. I can't find one of the readings for one of my classes, and the reading for another seems like such touchy-feely bullshit that I don't even feel like doing it. But it's okay. I am finally doing things.
Right now, I'm learning Bach's Violin Concerto in a minor. It's kind of the most exciting thing I am doing right now, because for once in my life, I want to be able to feel like I am good at playing the violin. Good good. Actually good. Like if someone were to hear me play, and he or she said, "Wow, she's good". That's what I'm talking about. Right now though, it doesn't sound like a concerto so much as it sounds like notes. I'm working on it. It will be better someday.
I don't want to write about how school and life and everything has been so far, because there is both too much to say and not enough. I wish I could talk about the people I've met and the things I've done, but I'm not sure I want to. I think that all I need to say is that I am more myself here. Except more extroverted. Which is not me at all.
I think I am writing like Hemmingway right now. Or Camus. Or someone who is not a good writer. I'm no Dostoevsky.
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