I work it, but not like I used to

Everyone needs to work. Even a lion cannot sleep, expecting a deer to enter his mouth.
Hitopadesha

kitties on the desk

While I’m on the computer, the cats take over my desk.

I’m on my fourth day of the Writing Diet, and to my astonishment and gratitude, my energy and productivity levels are still very high. While on the one hand it’s depressing to think that all my unproductive time in the past might have been due solely to eating too-big portions of too many carbs and sweets, for now, I’m just glad I’m getting as much done as I am. I went to dance class in the morning, then came back home and pondered what to do with my afternoon. As I was saying yesterday, my new approach is to decide on one thing at a time to do and then stick to it, and somehow that really makes it easier. I took a mental inventory and realized the open loops that bothered me most were all the emails I needed to address, so I dedicated my afternoon to those. Whew, it was a lot! I had several messages that dated back to February and even one from October (right before the FabMo show). But I powered through them all, and felt a huge burden lift as I did so. Not that my inbox is empty, but at least there are no more longstanding, outstanding messages that need replies. Thank goodness.

I want to share a lovely little piece of creative inspiration with you: Stravinsky’s Concerto for Two Pianos, set to a gorgeous visual soundtrack.

Not only is it a striking piece of music, it’s also personally meaningful to Erik and me, because we once performed it together while we were undergrads at Berkeley. Yes… I used to be that good. Not as good, obviously, as the Labèque sisters — whose recording I believe it is, and who are fantastically fun to watch live — but still good enough to play a piece like this in public. Alas for tendinitis! Whenever I hear or see very talented musicians doing their stuff, I still get a twinge of longing for how good a pianist I used to be. I was never good enough to be a professional of any caliber, but for an amateur I was excellent, and I don’t know if I still have that level of skill at anything I do. Poop.