Tension and Release

Have you ever noticed how close rain is to jazz? The waves of rhythmic tip-tap, and the quick succession of heavy and light beats, the different qualities of sound as it strikes different surfaces, how the feeling of it lingers in the air-- It's really very beautiful, soothing, even sensual. There's something both intimate and extravagant in these little outbursts. The rain on my window makes a solid percussive Tap Tap Tap, heavy and settled. Through leaves, rain whispers and hisses, fwooosh fwish shhhhhh, soft and introspective. Swishing and sloshing through gutters, it's more melodic, more determined, that must be the solo. Then when there's thunder and wind, groaning and quick change, that's when every thing's really soaring. Maybe the air is always full of music, and it just fills up and packs tight, until it's so heavy that it lets go. Tension and release, silence and music- rain makes the most beautiful cycles.

Today the air was thick, heavy, and full of expectations. It fit in close around me, and I knew it was a hug, because it felt so much like humid days at home. I'm missing home at strange times. I'm not thinking of home when I've got papers due or when I have no work to do, like a lot of folks. I miss home when my bike makes strange Ethel-Mermanlike squeals, and when there's a particularly juicy joke. I miss home under the big oak tree on North Quad, when I see red socks, in psychology lectures, and when I eat saltines, oddly enough. Sometimes I miss home in the conspicuous absence of "yall" and "g'mornin." Other times, I'm thinking of home for good reasons, like victories. For instance, I got my first Page to Stage paper back today, and did pretty well on it. I'm learning to identify intervals and scale degrees by ear. I'm not making mistakes anymore on the figured bass of diminished and augmented triad inversions. My bow arm is starting to do what I tell it to when I need volume and power. Exciting stuff is happening, that I have to share (and yes, brag, sometimes)! There are new people to tell this to, of course, people I like and have a lot in common with, and they're great. But sometimes I want to tell you, and that's when I miss you most of all.

Warning: DO NOT go to Serious Events, including but not limited to rehearsals, lectures, and/or study sessions, with a silly song stuck in your head. Such combinations may result in inopportune giggling, glares from authority figures, and the incongruous mental image of hearing nonsensical words issue from the mouths of the Stern and Authoritarian. Nonsense is not a joke.