You cannot buy half a can of soda

I went downtown to the vigil for Heather Heyer.  I’ll remember her forever.  I didn’t stay long.  The Depression Monster is thrilled I’m no longer taking Prozac and is just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.  I’m going to disappoint him.  I can feel sad without sliding into depression.  It’s been an odd day.  I did a freestyle rap about racism earlier, (and it astonished me.)  Mostly because I don’t rap.  Ever.  It was good, too!  The rhymes kept flowing out of me!

I just kept saying whatever came to mind, and hearing it at the same time, and thinking, “Yes! These are the words!”  I started getting louder (Me! Being loud!) and could feel the knot in my gut unwind a bit with every rhyme.  S. was sitting there watching me, looking stunned.  I was so excited, (and so many other feelings at the same time.)  Then I laughed really hard because The Muse is back.  Huzzah!

I’m deliberately not writing down the lyrics because obviously, they’re for someone else, (a rapper, duh.)  I’m just thrilled they passed through me on their way.  It. Was. So. Awesome.  (I don’t even listen to rap!)  I’ve gotten bits of songs in the past, but never this strongly.  If you’ve ever observed how experienced musicians can create music spontaneously together in jam sessions, you’ve seen the river of inspiration flowing from The Muse.  Jam sessions make me so happy I could cry.

I’ve received other hints she’s back, and am trying to be wise about it.  Naturally, I want to drop my life and go compose some music until I collapse from exhaustion.  Instead, I redid my schedule to allow a set amount of time each day for creating music.  See Alison adult.  (Takes a victory lap around the playroom office.)  I’m reading The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy.  It was mentioned in another novel.  I’m enjoying it so much I’m off to continue.

P.S. Here’s an update on the quilt in progress.


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