Dear Life,

I've been writing and improvising, working, and thinking. My brother helps me with guitar and tells me to practice when he's gone so we can move forward. I've nearly built callouses on my fingers already, which is oddly exciting for me. If I could ask this life for one thing it'd be to please let me play. Please don't trap me and spindle me into a web of "must-dos". I have to work harder to get to the place where I can be ready to step up and play for people and crowds alike. I want to work for something inspiring, something that will give me pleasure instead of something that will be expected, manufactured, reeled in, and spit out. My mom seems to understand me a little better since "Words" was published. She seems to want to be that nurturing being that she hasn't always been, but now she sees. My thoughts are that she won't understand 100%, however, until I play for her. Play and sing and not think, so that I can show her that this is what I want to love, stress over, cry over, laugh over, live!!! This, not a math exam, a psychology paper, or my notes on non-human primates. My voice, my fingers, my strums, my tempo, my words. 
   I need to pay more attention in my music theory class, it drives me nuts. I don't understand, comprehend, or get why it all has to be so complicated, but then I remembered: If I want this, I have to face some points of difficulty and not expect everything to be easy all the time. Hence, the working harder strategy. I'd like to write down my notes instead of recording the song on my laptop and playing from ear. I'd like to have something to show as well as play. It's an ambivalent relationship we share. But, it makes things better all the time, always.
**P.S. the "Norman" soundtrack comes out tomorrow! Go get some of that Andrew Bird!

liveLIVElIvELIveLIVElive