Insanity
After Christmas I got the bright idea that I needed some kind of creative outlet. Something to get me out of a writer's block funk and help invigorate my brain with fresh ideas. (I was writing a finance course at the time. I'm just happy I went looking for a creative outlet, instead of a really high bridge).
I write all day, so more writing didn't feel creative, it felt like work. My artistic ability is limited to stick people with hair, so no good. Then I had a great idea - music. I would dust off my rusty piano skills and start practicing. I bought a book of simple piano classics and started working on a few.
What is it they say about insanity? It's doing something over and over again and expecting different results. And yet we say practice makes perfect. So under the theory of practice if I play a song over and over, I can expect it to get better. Under the theory of insanity, playing it over and over and expecting it to get better, just makes me nuts. :)
Turns out that insanity and practice makes strange bedfellows. My life has been a little stressful lately (ok a lot, but much like I hate to cry in public, I refuse to vent in a pseudo-public forum) and every time I find myself really flipping out I sit down and play the piano for 10 mins.
I'm pretty sure I said "Shut Up" and I know that wasn't sweet, but it was just the crazy piano lady talking.
I write all day, so more writing didn't feel creative, it felt like work. My artistic ability is limited to stick people with hair, so no good. Then I had a great idea - music. I would dust off my rusty piano skills and start practicing. I bought a book of simple piano classics and started working on a few.
What is it they say about insanity? It's doing something over and over again and expecting different results. And yet we say practice makes perfect. So under the theory of practice if I play a song over and over, I can expect it to get better. Under the theory of insanity, playing it over and over and expecting it to get better, just makes me nuts. :)
Turns out that insanity and practice makes strange bedfellows. My life has been a little stressful lately (ok a lot, but much like I hate to cry in public, I refuse to vent in a pseudo-public forum) and every time I find myself really flipping out I sit down and play the piano for 10 mins.
- Work deadline moved up three days - play for 10 mins...
- Hear the words CUB-O-REE - play for 10 mins...
- Help Grace with her homework - play for 10 mins...
- Watch Brynn drop an entire gallon of milk on the floor - play for 15 mins (I hate a sticky floor)...
- Respond to someone's plea to help them find their keys, phone, backpack, library book, sparkly Barbie dress, left shoe
Basically anytime I feel like I'm losing it or I'm irritated with one of the kids I sit down and play. In other words - I play a lot!
Chad got home last night and I could feel the remaining shreds of my sanity slipping through my fingers, so I sat down to do what only the truly insane do - practice. He peeked at me from the kitchen and said "I'm sorry you're so stressed out, but maybe its a good thing...you sure are getting good!"I'm pretty sure I said "Shut Up" and I know that wasn't sweet, but it was just the crazy piano lady talking.
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LC