Dear Reader:

Oh, Wednesdays.   Why do you end up being so LOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGG?    Sigh.   Well, back to it, I suppose.   It was nice to gear up and teach those first classes and lessons today (and yesterday).    I do like feeling the energy that comes with the first day of a class.   So much possibility for growth.    Nobody's quite gotten jaded yet!

I took this pic on my way to the church job tonight:

I could look at that for eternity.   I actually did just stare at it for about 10 minutes before I wrote these lines.    I really don't know what it is with me and the sky lately, but I am smitten.   

Back to the mundane:

Total calories consumed:  1731 (more than I wanted, but I shall explain)

Total calories burned:  180 (30 minutes on the treadmill just now.  No, really, just now.  Exercising at 10:30pm - not ideal.)

Breakfast:

Lunch (with my lovely Wednesday faculty lunch people):

Dinner (at church with lovely church people):

Add in one chocolate chip cookie and some frozen yogurt.   And, a handful or two of nuts.  OK, and another roll.     ARGGGGHHH.

To the point:   I have been turning a current problem/issue/situation around in my head until it is just driving me crazy.   I crave resolution for it.   Have I mentioned how much I LOVE RESOLUTION?   Oh, I crave it like a woman who is crawling in the desert and dying of thirst craves a tiny raindrop of water.   Like Romeo craves Juliet.   Like my cat, Presto, craves catnip.   Like a parasite craves its host.   OK, OK.  You get the idea.  That was starting to get ugly (which my need for resolution sometimes does - it is not a charming or appealing trait).

There is a parallel here with music that I'd like to make.   When I discuss/describe the music of the early twentieth century, the music of Mahler, Wagner,  and Strauss in my music theory or music history classes, I often use a term called "prolonged dissonance."  Now, we all know that our emotional (and sometimes physical) reactions to music are based on our perceptions of dissonance and consonance.  Dissonance is where the expressive qualities of music lie.   But, if we don't have resolution of those dissonances (see atonal or twelve tone music), we don't have a language of cathartically realized expectations.  What these early 20th century guys do is take the dissonance and make it last for.ev.er.   So, in a Wagner overture (see Tristan and Isolde's Prelude) you will hear the incredibly expressive dissonance continue almost unbearably until you are on your knees praying to God to release you from this terribly beauty, and then and only then, he finally floats the dissonance into a resolution.   And, then you crave a cigarette.  Ha.

This is in contrast to Mozart's style, where the expressive dissonances are very fleeting and short term.  I think this is one of the reasons that Mozart appeals to us - because, while it is beautifully expressive, our expectations are met quickly.   It all ends well and we know it is going to end well.   We are not so sure of that with Mahler.

But, anyway, you are not here for a music lecture.   Suffice it to say that what I find incredibly cathartically satisfying in music, drives me crazy in my emotional life.   You know that period in a relationship where you are not really sure if the person is really "into you."   Isn't there a book written on that topic:  "He's just not that into you"?     Oh, I can hardly stand it.   Like, it makes me want to implode.   In a slightly less charged arena, you know when there is something that needs to be done, professionally speaking, and you know that you could do it in a half hour, but it's really not your job and should be left to the people whose job it is?   I can't not do it.   Can.  Not.  Wait.  To. Resolve. The. Issue.

Here's the deal.   In life, there is a certain messiness.   And, I really need to get comfortable with that. And, try not to respond to uncertainty with hostility.  Because I don't really trust people who are certain about things.  There are very few things that we need to be certain about.   A child, for instance, should be certain that he or she is loved.  That's good certainty.  A person should be certain that their significant other will always be willing to enter into the difficult conversations with them.  That's good certainty.   But, there is a very thin line between accepting uncertainty and accepting unhealthy and obsessive interpretations of that uncertainty.   I do not always tread that line well.  And, I am not treading it particularly well right now.   So, this is a trigger for me.  And, I need to notice that and not let it cause me to order the cheesiest, meatiest pizza right now.   Because, of course, that's what I want to do.   No, seriously.   

I love Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet."  So wise.   His words about love, in particular, have always resonated with me:  "To love is good, too: love being difficult.  For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all of our tasks...the love that consists in this, that two solitudes protect and border and salute each other."   

But, I also like what he says about the tensions that we feel when things are not resolved:  "I believe that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension that we find paralyzing because we no longer hear our surprised feelings living...because everything intimate and accustomed is for an instant taken away; because we stand in the middle of a transition where we cannot remain standing...And this is why it is so important to be lonely and attentive when one is sad...when we are sad, so much the deeper and so much the more unswervingly does the new go into us...."

This also reminds me of a quote by Martha Graham that I have looked at many times:  "No artist is pleased.  There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."   

Whew.  I just threw a lot at you, dear reader.   I apologize.   But, you see, I just turned my crazy into something positive and focused on growth.   And, I avoided calling the pizza place so that I could eat my feelings.   So, thank you for your patience, dear reader.   

And, thanks for reading!