Memorial Day

G’ah. Time keeps slipping away from me and I go for too long without blogging. I need to make a point to give regular attention to this blog before it dies out. It needs watering and sunlight.

I, however, need sleep. At work last night, I realized that bad sleep is probably the root of all my problems. Overall attitude, fatigue, weariness, lethargy, lack of motivation, everything. You might also point out that insufficient exercise is equally responsible for such things, but I would contend that it is because of insufficient sleep that I am too tired to exercise, which becomes a feedback loop of tiredness.

I can’t compose. On the rare occasion that I do have the time—rather, make the time—I simply can’t do it. I have all these ideas, a whole mountain of them, but I can’t make myself be productive. I have the desire, and I know that productivity equals gratification, but I just can’t seem to do it.

I was gradually building up the mental fortitude to seriously examine other piano pedagogical methodologies, revamp my approach, and recruit new students after an overhaul, but realistically I might as well continue to hold off on that because my night job is going to start giving me forty hours a week. Regularity is good, but… man, all I have to say is, be careful what you wish for.

I am a long way from feeling “worthy” enough to introduce myself to the Austin Shotokan Dojo. Another casualty of bad sleep. Until I get to that level, however, I have no hope of building a new posse.

Meanwhile, I’m spending a chunk of time assisting Juliet in some of her ventures. Another reason not to overload myself with more piano students. Another reason I need better sleep. Another reason I don’t get around to crafting decent blog posts.

The body was not meant for night shift. Not long-term. It’s not natural. I should sleep from 8 AM to 4 PM every day, SOLID, but I don’t. I can’t. I bought a box fan to drown out the daytime noise of the apartment complex (courtyard urchins screaming in Spanish, yappie dogs, and that ridiculously dissonant ice cream tricycle cart). The box fan helps, but I find myself abusing NyQuil a little too often for my own good. Wine doesn’t even do it for me anymore.

For the record, I freaking hate Austin’s notoriously horrible traffic problem (third worst in the nation!). For all its boasting of convenient U-turn lanes and handy toll roads (as if that’s helpful to someone with Missouri plates), it’s still a clusterfuck to drive in every day. Sometimes I have to wake up a couple hours early just to avoid it. Then again, people with normal sleep schedules could say the same thing.

So I either get not enough sleep or not good enough sleep. Blocking out the blinds with a black trash bag, drowsiness-inducing fluids, box fan droning noise… what else can I try? More exercise, but like I said, it’s a Catch 22.

I was dragging at work last night, on patrol. I could barely walk up the hill to the employee parking lot. I stopped using the stairs and rode the elevators all night, leaning against the wall. I drank soda. Ugh. It was the last night of my work week, so I was burnt out.

And for the next couple days, I get to deprive myself even further by staying up during the day; my brother and his family (sans beagle) are visiting this week. It will be nice to have visitors, but Thursday night’s return to work is going to be brutal. As usual.

Bad sleep. I think it really is the root of my problems. Now that I recognize it, maybe that means I can solve the problem. I can get my mojo back.

Today was Memorial Day. I found myself worn out, bummed out. I went for a long drive, listening to The Return of the King: The Complete Recordings, pondering everyone I’ve ever met. It was cathartic, but too much emphasis on the “bitter” half of “bittersweet.”

I pondered every victory, every celebration, every sea change. Graduations, farewells, concert receptions, weddings, everything. Where has everyone gone? Am I forgotten? I don’t seem to have much to look forward to these days. It was the absolute most appropriate music to accompany my reverie tonight, closing with the fading dusk light, leaving me bereft of something intangible.

”What other duty would you have me do?”
”Duty? No… I would have you smile again, not grieve for those whose time has come. You shall live to see these days renewed. No more despair.”

Tolkien was on to something. There is more humanity in his writing than most, I think. He knew what makes us tick. Why we bother to tell stories at all. “Those were the stories,” as Samwise Gamgee put it, “that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why.”

Howard Shore’s music matches the literary humanity of the writing, and on a day like today, experiencing it again is nothing short of the quintessence of humanity and catharsis. But man, it can leave you feeling surprisingly lonely and bereft afterward.

There’s got to be more than this. What happened to everybody? Where did they all go? To each his own spin-off adventure? Paths diverged into the mundane. Where is the vitality?

I was reading Daniele Bolelli’s On the Warrior’s Path for about the tenth time, and he speaks of “reinventing the world.” That’s what I should do. Keep the sentiment and act on it. That book is the single most inspiring book in the world to me, personally. Aspire to more than the mundane. I’ve referenced Bolelli on this subject before.

Well, I hope it was a thoughtful Memorial Day for everyone. My memory is a blessing and a curse, to be sure.

For now, I should just focus on getting my stuff in order. I need to find a way to get better sleep, then address every problem in due order.

Time keeps trucking along at alarming velocity. For many of my friends, it has been exactly five years since we’ve seen each other. That… is messed up.

Find your inspiration. Find your sentiment, hold onto it, and use it to “reinvent the world.” Don’t settle for the status quo.

And get some sleep. I could use some more myself.


Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You’ve come to journey’s end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore