A battle rages in the Inner Sanctum: a battle between George and Gear. These two mighty opponents are warring over boundaries, space, and ... well, Waterfall's attention. Gear is currently on the offensive, though George is valiantly standing strong, unmoving, and confident that Gear will not ultimately overcome.
For you new readers, the Inner Sanctum is our piano room (which also happens to be the guest room, the library (in part), and the gear closet). George is my piano. He has an army of keys, pedals, sheet music, and the maddening, murderous metronome. Gear's army is a vast host of backpacking gear.
For the last year and a half, the Inner Sanctum's gear contingent has pretty much remained in its dark little closet. (I say "pretty much" because we have a lot of gear, and it tends to overflow into the hallway.) George, with his army of keys, pedals, and sheet music marching in time to the heartless metronome, has gotten all of the attention. Even with my sore thumb, George still gets plenty of focus in the way of theory/comp exercises and some practicing of actual piano pieces.
For a year and a half, George has been King of the Inner Sanctum. He has ruled it. Gear has remained hidden, silenced, marginalized in the Inner Sanctum's darkest corners.
Why? Because I've been in Piano Mode. Although my ultimate goal is balance, I've spent my life careering from Piano Mode to Writing Mode, back to Piano Mode, and then to Hiking Mode, with a few modes in between. Sometimes I think life would be easier (though less interesting) if I only had one passion.
Anyway, sadly for Gear, this lover of hiking and the woods (a.k.a. Waterfall) has set nary a foot on a hiking trail for some time, other than for the occasional day hike and writing assignment. I spend even the most gorgeous Saturdays inside, practicing, so enamored with music that I almost forget there's an "outside" out there.
Naturally, George likes this arrangement. Gear hates it. Gear has had enough and is now in a full-fledged rebellion. Gear has marched its troops out of the closet and has set up camps throughout the Inner Sanctum. Backpacks are guarding the treasured prisoner (George), and trail maps have camped out on George's bench. Armor of capilene and Coolmax has taken over the floor at George's feet. I can barely make it through the mighty synthetic, weather-proof ramparts in order to practice Chopin. Oh friends, my beloved George is being held hostage.
Poor George. He is quite unhappy about this situation.
I'm here to say, George, that this Gear occupation isn't such a bad thing for you. Even though it's going to take your favorite person (Waterfall) hostage and send me to wilderness lands (not really) for two weeks. Even though it's going to take your favorite blogger (Waterfall) away from the computer, rendering her unable to blog about you until the end of May. Even though you'll probably be ignored for a fortnight by our non-piano-playing house-sitters. They may even use your bench as a luggage rest.
George, this is a good thing. It'll really be better in the long run. You'll be lonesome for a few weeks, but guess what? When I get back from my stint in the woods, I'm going to be so much more relaxed. I'm not going to bang on you when you refuse to cooperate (you're a lovable but stubborn piano, you are). I'll be on "summer vacation" (we teachers get that!), so I'll be spending gobs of quality time with you all summer. We're going to make beautiful music together, I promise. And you'll get lots of blog attention: I'll certainly bore my readers with stories of you, and of the great composers who wrote music for you. And guess what! You and I going to play BACH all summer! Can you imagine a greater, more wonderful fate?
So, hang in there, George. Soon, soon, your moment in the sun will come once again.
But you're going to have to share it with Gear. Sorry about that, George. I really do love you. I love both of you.