It’s been a fantastic five days, meeting up with old and new friends, spending some much-needed time with the Thriller, and burying myself in jazz ed work for awhile. I just dropped off the earth, and while I missed writing to you, it was fun being in another world for almost a week. It drove the point home: it’s time for a cool change. I love my students, the community where I teach, and my colleagues — but I’m ready to write, bake, travel and be Grammie.
I’m ready to dist-appear.
Do you ever get that way? Ever resent the alarm clock, the routine, the long work hours? I do. But, as always, the boo-hoo is tempered by gratitude for a great job, family and friends to love, and the basic necessities of life. I know of people who have none of that, and I feel guilty for complaining. Then again, if I put all my snark on a grid, I think I’d find that the heaviest occurrence takes place during the start of a rehearsal run — much like I’m in right now.
I’ve been asked how I cope with the schedule I keep. Ha — it’s been so much worse than now. Remember two-three years ago, when I was teaching all day, rehearsing all evening, and then going home to study and write papers? Feh. This is nothing compared to that. And I don’t really think I consciously embark on a coping strategy, either. Rather, I just do it because it has to be done, and try not to think of the dark side. Maybe that’s coping. However, don’t get me wrong: I enjoy what I do. It’s actually been the one thing in my life that I’ve stuck with for what I would call the “long haul.” Honestly, I tire of a routine pretty easily, and tend to get distracted by shiny things. It has often amazed me that I’ve been at this for 19 years straight, without jumping ship because I wanted a new challenge. Well…the old wanderlust is rearing its ugly head. Would that I could just give in and take off in a new direction, but things like mortgages, school loans, cars, home repairs, the realities of life…they have a way of spoiling the drifter’s dreams. Flag them for intentional grounding.
Speaking of the ground — I need to hit it running. *pO0f* — she’s gone.