Happiness

People who know me at all are aware that I'm a pretty happy person. It's not like I try, I just hate depressed people, so I try not to be one.

However, being happy all the time does get old. Occasionally life just pulls you down. And, man, I fall hard.

This was a really hard week for me, but mostly because I let it be. Starting it out by crying on poor Mrs. Landrum's shoulder after church on Sunday didn't help, and it just went downhill from there. The amount of time I have spent practicing over the last month or so has gone way down since the beginning of the semester, while my pianistic obligations have gone way up. My dumb wrist is keeping me back from what I really should be doing. So aside from feeling like a complete slacker, I also had the impression that everyone was mad at me because I'm not accomplishing anything. So two very, very bad days culminated in being sent out of the room by an irate cello professor, upon my being unable to accompany his student's concerto. It was fairly understandable for him to be upset with me, I really should've tried harder instead of being intimidated by the piece and the performer. But now, after walking around in my own personal storm cloud of self-doubt and discontent, someone had finally told me what I'd been telling myself for days. Not a pleasant feeling in the least.

I was mad. In fact, I was really mad. Angry and humiliated, I locked myself in a practice room upstairs and pounded on the keyboard. But, know what? Piano keys aren't very responsive. All they can do is mirror what's inside of you; nothing is fixed simply by being released. My frustration vibrated in the air around me like a question, just as confused outside as I was in. I stormed out, and finally met a sympathetic ear. Did I ever mention I love the upper class men in the piano department? I met my friend Missy on the stairs, and she took one look at my face and gave me a *huge* hug.

Over the course of the evening, various things happened which worked together to lighten my mood. And at the end of it, I found myself once again sauntering down the sidewalk kicking autumn leaves and appreciating the cool air on my cheeks. Those few days of deep discouragement made me really appreciate happiness all the more. They also illustrated to me once again that being shut in the practice room for hours on end, frustration and discomfort mounting, forcing yourself to keep on, is not the road to success. I need fellow souls to keep me going. Self-reliance is not one of my strong points, and since moving away from many of my best friends and my family, I've been realizing this more and more. God knew that Adam alone was not good; apparently the situation is the same with Grace.

Conclusion: Grace is not going to be a nun or a hermit any time soon, and simply cannot wait to get home to her dad, mom, sisters, and brothers. Where she can scream with her own voice instead of the piano's.

(UM. Wow. That was the longest blog post ever. See what happens when I decide chatting is bad for my wrist? For some reason I get the feeling I'm defeating the purpose.)