Inspiration Navigation

So I finished my NanoWriMo!! I actually am quite excited. As you know, I am prone to self-doubt, though I have concluded throughout the process, a word-count goal seems somewhat achievable. In the end, they are just words on the page, and now I have close to 70,000, well...I suppose that is better than nothing!

That is what I am attempting to concentrate on. Notes on a page. What happens with them is an infinite number of things, however, until I really know them—the impossible is no where near possible. Like the flying pharmacy van I dreamt about driving with my best friend the other night.

As I write this, I am watching the movie the Pianist. I know, I'm not really watching it, but don't worry, I have seen it before, and I loved it. The cinematography is beautiful, the acting; amazing, and the premise seems inconceivably difficult.The concept of maintaining a love of music, despite of the overwhelming forces occurring against it—I can't even imagine.

And this leads me to inspiration. I am meeting my violin teacher tomorrow afternoon, whom at the age of 84, is still practicing three hours a day, listening diligently to youtube concert performances and completely engrossed in the world of music. For me, this is, well, it almost brings tears to my eyes. In fact, I admit, it does.

My passion for writing has emerged from somewhere, I can't explain. I feel perhaps it has always been there, tinkering away, imagining things in the background, but then—there is music. For me, that has become an oasis. Like bushwalking minus the snakes, a place impossible to reach, but somehow, something drives me to keep trying.

Somehow, I have concluded, both of these things are essential. Perhaps not to everyone, but certainly for me. I don't know what drives it, I can't explain why I spend endless hours pursuing either of them, so from my vortex of ponderation; I decided to ask Agatha about it.

She dreamed of being a singer you see, saying: 'I am sure there can be nothing more soul destroying than to persist in trying to do a thing that you want desperate to do well, and to know you are at the best second rate.'

Well, I said, I am afraid I will be always second rate, but still I can't help doing it. It is almost like beating your head against a wall, or repeatedly stubbing your toe, or banging your funny bone against a hard surface—not funny at all, so why would you do it knowingly?

The great problem is, I can't help it! It is like a table nudging against me, some force I try to ignore and even when I say: 'That's it, I've had enough. No more music, no more writing. It's down to just working. I'll get any job, I'll return to pharmacy and I will give up on it all for good.' Then, something drags me back. Sometimes, it has taken a War of the Worlds, but inevitably I return to the regime of practice.

Therefore, I have come to accept that my dear Ferdinand is obstinate, as is Violetta. They just don't seem to leave me alone, and now Anastasia and Fanny are joining in. Nagging away, forcing me to do things that make no sense financially...

So, I have decided to 'own'—as the cool kids say—and accept my position as a second rate, under achiever. I am also choosing to look on the bright side. I have completed NanoWriMo, and I am now going to celebrate, with champagne and cheese...lots of cheese.