Friday, March 14, 2014

I hate mornings

During the last very-bad time in my life, some 18 years ago, nightfall seemed like the saddest time of day, and I would go to great lengths to avoid it, usually by taking naps.

Now, for some reason, mornings are the worst. The whole day stretches ahead of me, full of chances for me to mess up, full of drudgery, full of nothing, full of chances to rack up more screwups and failures, chances to alienate more people with my negativity.

In the mornings before leaving for work, I play viola for an hour, mostly warmup stuff to develop a relaxed right arm. Because it is so mindless, though, it gives plenty of opportunity to let negativity creep in. I have a lesson tomorrow. In my current state, I easily imagine the lesson as some ordeal. It occurs to me that, given the way other areas of my life are going, I should see playing and lessons as the high point of an otherwise-crummy existence. I should look forward to lessons; I should enjoy them. But my state of mind is so fragile that I make the worst of anything.

Earlier today I had some thought about making a conscious decision to enjoy learning music and (in particular) enjoy tomorrow's lesson, to let it be the high point of the week, mistakes and all. I thought, "you can decide to enjoy it, or you can just allow yourself to shit all over it." The ability to make such a decision seemed so possible at the time. It seems much less so now. 

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