I have so much to write about. I sat down last night and scribbled away six pages in my notebook (my "real" notebook, not my "sort-of" notebook). Then I blogged. Then I wrote some more.
The essay and the allegory are both taking shape. The allegory is turning into a humorously cynical (cynically humorous?), not-so-allegorical allegory, and the essay ... well, the essay is still in its early stages. Still in the turning-it-all-over-in-the-mind stage.
I love piano. Just got back from a good practice. I'm learning a new piece now: Juba Dance, by R. Nathaniel Dett. This piece has special significance for me, and that's part of what I'm going to write about in my essay.
Went to a party the other night--a "Creative Memories" party. Creative Memories is apparently a scrapbooking company that works sort of like Tupperware or Pampered Chef or Mary Kay: ladies host parties where a rep shares information about the products, then hopes you will order lots of stuff.
I hope I didn't offend anyone. While we were looking at the elaborate scrapbooks the rep had made, complete with stenciled letters, stickers, themed pages, and matted and shaped photos, not to mention journaling, I commented that I'd have to be bedridden for six months if I wanted to find time to do anything like that. I didn't mean it snobbily, but it's true. I later explained to the rep that it's because, when I managed to snag an hour or two of time for "me," I tend to spend it at the piano or with my nose buried in a book. Scrapbooking just doesn't really interest me that much. Different strokes, and all that.
The rep holds a workshop where she helps you organize all of those stacks of photos we have stored in shoeboxes in the top of the closet. I asked how much I could pay her to organize my pictures on her own, but she doesn't do that. So I signed up for a workshop and TA-DAH! I get my own black picture-organizing box.
As is usual for me, even though I genuinely liked the people there, I had the strong sense of not "fitting in." I guess I wouldn't, seeing as I was probably the only one there who didn't have kids and/or doesn't plan to have them.
One thing I've noticed: When I'm in a group where I don't feel 100% comfortable (which is most of the time), I turn into a witty little clown of a girl. I joke and joke. Good thing my jokes are such knee-slappers, or I'd be in real trouble! :-)