Earth to Ivoryhut, earth to Ivoryhut. You still with us?
Okay, so I’m really bad at this blogging thing. I’ve been online an obscene amount of time lately, but have I made time for this blog? No. Too busy doing everything else but. Oh, to be in high school again, with only homework to worry about and the rest of the waking hours at my disposal.
So many things have been going through my head the past weeks. Reflections on the “new immigrant” experience, precipitated by a friend’s relocation to Australia. Reminiscing about that first brush with love, and the soundtrack of the whole crazy, wonderfully intoxicating ride. Mundane thoughts on why it’s such agony trying to come up with something new to prepare for dinner every night.
I can’t seem to hold on to any profundity for long. Other things keep barging in. Did I remember to put the wash in the dryer? Why are the leaves on my hibiscus turning white? Is that chicken defrosted yet or do I have to soak it in water? And just like that, poof! The epiphany’s gone. Worse, sometimes I don’t even remember what it was all about in the first place.
Thankfully, music’s been a real savior. I’ve been rediscovering the wonder of finding music that reaches inside you and nudges your soul awake. I’ve even started writing music again. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed this, the power to fashion one’s own salvation from the grind, the gift of creating a private sanctuary. Never mind that nobody else gets it. It may be perfect for me and only me. Even if no one else wants to share it.
Thank goodness I was too much of a child wimp to rebel against piano lessons. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t play. I’d probably resort to singing. Which would just be cruel to so many people in so many levels.