Tuesday, January 30, 2007
On feeling fulfilled. I guess I just want to say thanks to everyone who came out to my shows this weekend. Playing two close shows with both rooms comfortably occupied with listening ears: let me just say, it felt great. It made me remember the way it used to be, when I started playing in front of people, always feeling good afterwards. Playing in the Heats' basement felt like time travel, even though some of the people who made it "home" were missing this time. All the same, Christmas lights and attentive ears, quiet songs and campfire sing-alongs. Just cold and concrete, but it seemed warm.
All Asia felt like the summer of 2006. Or when I first met one of my best friends, Casey, when she used to wear green converse and I had short hair. I played my first show in Boston on her keyboard. While lately I feel like I'm swimming through moving homes, this week it seemed like a still home. All I really mean to say is: thanks. Sometimes you really make me feel like my songs are worth it.
Anyway, isn't it funny the way life calms down? And gets calmer and calmer. I guess as you get older, you just get used to things, which isn't such a bad thing. That said, when I went to work and started serving coffee this morning, I did not feel calm. Today I learned that I do not enjoy the close juxtaposition of fulfillment and lack of fulfillment.
Tonight I learned that I've written fourteen songs in the past three months, and ten of them in the past month and a half, which at first made me feel weird, but I decided to play it off as feeling proud. It's just strange, like this pile of crafts that have no physical shape, finished "work" but feeling positive that I've done absolutely nothing since December. Let me also just say that despite how little I seem to actually go to work (a coffee shop), I sometimes sense of the smell of ham and cheese croissants in my apartment. Gross.
