Yesterday, I thought I saw one of my ex-boyfriends. As in “an ex of Christmas past”...by a long time. It was creepy. He was older and pudgier (which is good, because so am I), but since I was in the midst of an “Erin Meltdown®” he, if it really was my ex (he had kids the right age and everything), totally won that ex-encounter as I had weepy eyes. I first saw him while I was on the phone and figured it was just weepy paranoia, but since he stared long back at me, I started thinking it might actually be him. Eight kinds of creepy. Dammit. I haven't seen him in forever long and I always figured I would win in any ex-encounter I had with him. Alas. You can't plan for the random encounter many miles from home.
Anyway, today was a better day. I wore my contacts most the day and noted that I was officially a lecherous old lady as I scoped out the hot, half-naked guys around me in the hot springs. I also realized, having nothing to listen to except other people's conversations, that being a musician-type is a blessing and a curse. I repeatedly heard folks going off about tunes they had stuck in their heads, which totally happens. Only, ALL of the songs stuck in their heads were jingles from commercials. I heard the Meow Mix theme, and the Baby-Back ribs thing, and onward. (Keeping in mind these were several different conversations from different groups of people). I realize that yes, I definitely get songs stuck in my head, but if I were to sing them out loud at hot springs, barely anyone would recognize the theme from a Puccini opera. Sigh.
I also realized that on any given day, there is a 50% likelihood that I danced in the shower to a mental version of a Prince song. This realization happened as I was shower-dancing in the public showers and noticed slight looks of alarm from fellow showerers. It turns out not everyone shower-dances to Prince songs playing in their heads. Next time, I'll dance around and sing the Meow Mix jingle; that should make people feel more comfortable.
One of my epiphanies this weekend is that I have reached the burn-out point in my seemingly never-ending music degree (two and half years and counting). I've been increasingly cranky the past two quarters with extra events that I am expected to do and I think about dropping out roughly once a week now. This, coupled with a few other cues, suggest that I've got the “life-changing winds” starting up again.
For instance, I spent my entire 20's working and saving up so that I (and others) could travel. Then, BAM, my 30s start, I find out everything I had been working towards was pointless and naive, I spend a few years pouting and being bitter, and I suddenly find that 2011 is full of travel. And I've got a trip planned roughly every four weeks through the rest of the year.
Some of the trips are bigger than others, but I figure I'm trying to make up for the last 11 years of working over-time without any reward except working over-time for the last 11 years. Hmm. That smacked a little bit of bitterness. Anyway, since I jumped into music school as a way of being a better musician (a long-time frustration), it was also another way of distracting myself from the awkwardness of life.
Now that I'm getting totally over music school, I'm taking that as a good sign that (despite slight hints of bitterness) I'm moving on to a new phase. And it's looking like this new phase will have me and my Birkenstocks traveling all over the place and back again. Epic. Again, I'm grateful that I mostly like my own company and that I'm a pretty good traveling companion to myself. Although, it does make picture-taking a bit more difficult. So it goes.
Moral of today's story: Gianni Schicchi! Actually, that would be TERRIBLE shower dance music.
An Erinku:
river
mountains
sun on snow
Colorado!
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