I’m hardly a mistral anymore, though I still wish I could be. It’s hard to think about writing anymore, since I haven’t felt that internal urge to create in about a year. Over that actually… 

My eyes are on new horizons now, floating my way to new and unknown shores. Like usual, I go into things head first without much hesitation.

Getting married in June. Boom. Just like that. 

Obviously I thought about this decision, since it’s a little heavier than moving around the country on a whim. I hate waiting though and I wish we could just get married tomorrow and start living real life finally. The waiting in this bizarre limbo is what’s putting me over the edge now. 

I’m guessing that I’m not alone in that feeling. I imagine that every college senior gets to that point of wanting to start life outside of a school confinement. Wings we’ve been stretching for years are aching for wind under them. Let us fly, let us fall and learn to pick ourselves up on our own. 

There was sun coming through my curtains and I felt well rested. I guess that’s what happens when you sleep from 11 till 9. Excellent.

I shopped for food at a Trader Joes a bit outside of town. It’s about 3 times the size with so many more things for the eating. I actually really liked the town it was in too, very cute and more diverse in age groups. Maybe I’ll look for apartments there come the fall.

I also did some music, applied for some jobs, wandered around in the snow taking pictures…. Kept myself busy enough to get through the day without time to stare outside as ask “why on earth did I come back out here?”

One big reason? David time. It’s so awesome to be able to see him for extended periods of time every single day. We’ve gotten closer over the break, since we had so many hard conversations and hurdles to get over. But I really think we’re stronger for it.

Course, I’m still worried. Scared. Nervous. But I think that if I keep this up I’ll find something to hold on to and keep me afloat. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be snowing, so we’ll see how that goes. Maybe I’ll go on another adventure to find someplace cool or new. Mostly I should find a place that will give me money. But not sleep studies….. waaay too intense for me.

I’ve never really liked that metaphor, since I’ve never been much of a book reader… but it’s fitting. A continuation of a story where something new has to happen.

I’m flying back to Boston in an hour and a half. I’ve never dreaded anything like I’m dreading this. I hate that city with every ounce that I can. Which, sure, is a bad attitude, but it’s really not that great of a place. I’m not going to be in school, so I have to find other ways to keep myself from going totally mental. Maybe working, hopefully writing songs, hopefully getting involved with new people in new social circles. There’s still a lot of unknows which keep me anxious… there are a lot of things that are upsetting to me that are totally out of my control. No matter how much I curse at the sky, it will still snow and be fricking cold. No matter how much I whine, I still won’t be happy in my house, because I don’t live alone. No matter how much I hate the stores out there, eveything is going to be old and overpriced. But, the things in my control are what I’m doing my best to focus on right now.

Nothing good will come from hatred. Like Mark Foreman said last week at church, “Hard times build character, which leads to perseverance, which leads to hope.”

*********

I need hope right now. I’m running pretty dry after so many months of fighting everything. I need some kind words. There’s far too many critical experts in that city. I need some friends. I have a very high standard for the people I’m willing to let in, but I’m hoping I can find uplifting, honest, loving friends to spend my time with.

Now I just have 5 1/2 hours on a plane before I can start this new challenge. Battle. Epic battle. I should make a movie out of this nonsense, or at least a web comic. Hah.

******

Wish me luck

Pick up your soul…. You left it behind
Awhile ago.. . to make room for the
Things you know, is it worth it, is it worth it now
Love

Life’s more than number’s on a page
Love’s a choice that you have not made
I know that there’s a heart in there, that’s full of things to give
But you just won’t let any body in

I did what I could…. To show you that
Love is good… but you wouldn’t have
A thing to do with me, cuz you cannot see
You cannot see

And I can’t…. do anything
About the past…. But I hope you’ll
Slow down your life, open your eyes
And live

Life’s more than number’s on a page
Love’s a choice that you have not made
I know that there’s a heart in there, that’s full of things to give
But you just won’t let any body in

Life is more than film and photographs
And love is a time when you just relax and laugh
I know you’re scared to feel it, but its worth it in the end
So please, let somebody in

Today was quite informative, but a bit overwhelming. Analytical. Right and wrong. Switching around phrases. Melodic maps matching lyric maps. Stress rhythm patterns. Dorian and Mixolydian modes. Hardly enough time to take a breath.

Well, I guess its good because my brain is bursting with ideas, but I haven’t the slightest inclination to pick up my instrument and try it out. I fear, that I will not write anything that will fit in these forms. Ew. I shudder at the idea of writing to fulfill these requirements. That’s not how I ever want to express my emotions and my story.

Another guy in my lyric writing class got his song critiqued for an hour during class. Siting by him, I noticed his hand wavering above his notebook. Pausing after each idea or suggestion. He didn’t automatically accept all these things – and his shoulders would tense when the phrase “just cut that part out” would pop up. I’m glad I’m not alone.

Fine. We’re learning about ‘tools’ to put into the ‘toolbox’ that berklee assumes we keep permanently attached to our hip. But, now I can’t write. It breaks my heart that my guitar will sit for days untouched. It breaks me more when I don’t know what I feel because when I try to sing, my voices catches at each phrase. I think ‘they told me not to do that’ and chord progressions that are proven ‘more interesting’ echo under what I happen to be playing.

I want to quit. I want to stop. I want no more of this. I want to cry over my instrument, pour my heart out into the air, not a page of note paper. I don’t care if it’s a chord tone, or if I switch rhythms halfway through. Where’s the story? I don’t know what my story is anymore, because I have a freaking TOOLBOX that’s too full of musical SHIT to carry around on my shoulders. I’m tired of assignments. I’m tired of the deadlines. I’m tired of everything. I just want to forget it all.

—

But. I know better. A bitter, angry, ugly side of me knows better. It knows that the artists who don’t know what they’re doing don’t last. It knows that Jack Johnson will not go down in history as an amazing artist, because he only sounds one way. ever.  This is why Michael Jackson will forever be marveled at, because he did some complicated stuff on his tunes. This part of me knows that its also about the structure, form and mathematical correlation of rhythms and rhyme.

But it’s a struggle, almost every day.

On a different note, it’s been pretty awesomely fall-ish here. The trees (when you manage to find them) are turning colors, the weather is cold, but not horrible. It’s scarf and sweater weather for sure. David and I still have dinner (that I usually cook) together every night, and we love eachother with lots of love. I’m feeling really at home in my apartment, and I love my room a lot. I’m still swinging back and forth between satisfied and horrifically sad, but I do my best to keep the reins tights on my emotions. I look forward to the weekend.

Of these musician folk, oh
They don’t do nothing but blow their smoke
And they don’t seem to care, about anything but what they wear
And they’ll strum their fancy guitars, dreaming about being big old stars

Oh and that’s not what I’m trying to do
I’m just trying to make sense to you
No poetry or chords could tell
What it feels like to have really fell

Into a slum, a place or a thicket
Or maybe someplace you’d just like to kick it
Relax and hang with a few of your pals
Exchanging stories about a lovely gal

So I’ll give you a melody to sing
And If I’m lucky it just might linger….

With my eyes ahead, no where near now
I’ll be blind and follow fate still some how
To wherever I’m supposed to go
And maybe, possibly getting out of this low

Cuz I used to have happy, and boy did it have me
Those are the days, that you’d love to see
But push through, my dear, and sooner than soon
That great old North West will come into view

These are lyrics from a Sondre Lerche song. I found him again this morning and decided to listen to him while getting ready for the day. I was nervous this morning and his soothing sudo jazz soothed my mood. Today was the first day of classes at Berklee for the fall. I have all sorts of hesitation about this semester, for reasons I know, and some things I don’t know. There’s this gut feeling that this isn’t what I want – but like my boyfriend says, I usually find the flaws all around me and concentrate on them till it makes me sick. So, I’m trying my best to approach this with an open mind, heart and arms. I’ll let people in. I’ll push myself in classes I don’t like. I’ll go out and try new things. This is what life is for, especially at my age, and in this city. So.. I don’t know what that will really look like quite yet, but here’s goes something.

So, Boston. I didn’t like it the last go around, but as I said.. new outlook. I just don’t know it the way that I knew Seattle. But Seattle captured me, and I went way out of my way to learn it, get lost in it’s amazing depths. I feel like Boston is so 21+ that I can’t explore it’s best parts.. but that really isn’t too true. My new (and quite wonderful) roommate is helping me to find other places. So it’ll be good. The weather is being nice for the most part and I plan on enjoying that for as long as I possibly can. And I’ve been having a lot of fun cooking dinner for David and I. I feel really domestic, but it’s a form of art for me. I like to make something and then immediately consume the product of it. Hahaha… I’ll do that till I get that fancy camera I dream of.

So, one day down….. 15 weeks to go.

We played a very fun show on Saturday night – he did a set, we did some standards together, and then I did some songs of my own. Something I learned was that I really enjoy sharing the stage. I knew this from back in my Seattle days, having someone back me up was pretty awesome but being able to share the stage with another person who writes and performs was a lot of fun. Of course I’m so proud of him because he’s pretty kickass at what he does. I was nervous about the standards that we were doing together, because we’ve practiced almost never this summer, but once we got into the songs I really was able to just have fun. Isn’t that the point of this? Gigging is stressful sure, but we do it because we love the performance. My friends and family were there again to support us, and I’m so glad to have them.. always reliable and encouraging. There were also a bunch of just passerbys that stuck around to hear our tunes and give us tip money – which was more of an ego boost than anything. Hahaha

I’m not going to go into our daily routine of vacation time, but I will say that it was full of fun activities. Zoo at night, gaslamp district dinners, boogie boarding, Livingston Taylor concert, and lots of late nights with good conversation. I’m so lucky. And so happy.

But now I’m thinking of other things, things having to do with my upcoming move. Boston still scares me in ways that I don’t really understand. I’ve been having dreams pushing my anxious thoughts from my subconscious into the day to day. I view it as dark and dirty filled with people who don’t care about me. Dramatic? What else is new.. Hah. I know it’ll be good this time, but so much has to be done and there’s nothing I can do way out here to really get ready for it. At the same time, I can’t wait to get back and start the classes I’ve been dreaming of for years now. I remember the Songwriting Workshop I was in at SPU and I recall buying the textbook I needed for it, it was the first I had really heard of Berklee… and I thought about how cool it would be to major in something like songwriting… songwriting! But I laughed to myself, knowing that I could never harness that inspiration enough to write with it consistently.

Now, here I am, going into my first songwriting classes with the same fear. Will I be able to rise to the occasion? What will they ask me to do? Do I want to learn to write by a ‘professional’ or do I prefer the more mystical way that it comes to me now? Do I continue this or do I stop going to this school… If I want to be a local celebrity – and nothing more – someone capable of having a home and family, then why should I keep pouring my money into this school…

Oh so many thoughts… only time will tell. I feel like I’ve jinxed myself against staying in school for more than a year.. haha… I guess that’s just the way I roll at the end of the day, and most of me is just fine with that. I’ve always wanted to be ahead of where I am, in that next stage, but now… I don’t know exactly where that would put me. Heaviness is on my shoulders, but I blame most of it on the upcoming move. I love to run around, but it always scares me… Courage, young one.

Of course, I’m hoping to spend the rest of my college years at Berklee, and the rest of my life with David (whoop! I said it!) So I have to be thinking of things a little differently, and that goes hand in hand with more serious decisions. With all this heaviness, I want to mention that we have the happiest, most carefree relationship ever. Anyone who’s been around us knows that we can laugh anything off, and its always silly. I’m so thankful for that. I’m so thankful that I can really be me, stupid, awkward but oh-so-genuine.

David and I are both feeling rather disappointed that its only been half a year, because it’s felt so much longer. Haha… Oh us. I used to view things like a ‘monthaiversary” as really silly, but another side of me knows that its really important to ‘honor’ the relationship. If you really set aside the time to think about how special it is, and how much it means to you, then you’re doing yourself a favor.

So, this whole blog was to show that I care.. He means the world to me and I’m happy to tell everybody about it. (whether they’re actually listening or not) haha