Nostalgia has always had a profound effect on me, to the point where I am unable to objectively discern "good" from "bad". Case in point: as I sit here with my morning tea, sifting through the organizational nightmare that is my iTunes library, trying to build a road trip playlist for next week, one in every few tracks conjures up a fond memory. Sometimes the memory is concrete; I can't pass up The Doors without thinking of driving around town in the summer of 2005, sixteen a

This month is one long, unbroken chain of rehearsals and work and more rehearsals and concerts and other concerts and do not think I'm complaining because I am definitely not because I get to play glorious music all day long and for some reason I'm being paid to do it, so I rush from one event to the next subsisting on naught but water and KIND bars (the most effective diet is the one where you literally do not have time to eat real meals) but there's a spring in my step and

Exhaustion is getting home after a ten hour day (and another one the day before, and a fourteener the day before that) and collapsing into a dead sleep on the couch without even bothering to take off your shoes or pet the cat who has come to nudge and lick your face with maternal worry. It's days like these, especially right after I wake up from one of these addling corpse naps, when I have to remind myself that I have the best job in the world, that I get to go to work every

When it rains, indeed. In the past two days I have acquired over two hundred pages of music, all to be performed in the next two weeks. My daily schedule: practice, read, eat, [think about] work[ing] out, play with the cats, do some housework, repeat ad infinitum. I lead quite a charmed life. #music #practice #cats