Yesterday while at Starbucks a nice guy was chatting me up. We talked about the weather (day five of rain in Colorado), how it’s like California and how people here don’t know what to do with rain. He complimented my shirt and nicely bought my coffee.
Yeah. It took me until after I left to realize that he was probably hitting on me. I’m slow like that. I did what any woman who has no clue about these things would do, I texted my best friends. I commented that maybe he was gay, because he complimented my shirt. The answer is still cracking me up: “Gay doesn’t buy you coffee.”
Huh. Good to know. I’ll assume this is true, even though said best friends are happily married to amazing men who they’ve been with since they were teens.
One day I’ll decide I am ready to date. When that day comes I’ll need to take lessons so that I, you know, NOTICE WHEN SOME ONE FLIRTS WITH ME. Ahem.
One of these days it will feel natural again. One day this place will start to feel like home. In the moment it feels like I’m trespassing somewhere. Like I need to whisper and not make any sudden movements less I get found. Of course it may be that I’ve just been watching too many episodes of Bones and I’m a bit paranoid. Something like that.
I’ll get there. I know I will.
When I was thirteen years old, I quit playing the piano. I’d been asked to perform someplace in front of hundreds of people and that was exactly hundreds more than the amount of people I felt comfortable playing in front of. Which was exactly one person. I adored the piano and loved that I knew tons of brand new songs. I could hear something once and then just play it. (Which unfortunately meant I lied and pretended I could read music, which I never really understood.) For eight years the piano was a true love of mine. The options in my mind were do the thing I dreaded or quit. So I quit. Holy fuck thirteen year olds are stupid. I hate that I quit when I did and just couldn’t say, no I don’t like to perform, please help me find someone who will teach me just to teach me.
Over the years people have asked me if I could go back and change one thing about my life what would it be. This isn’t number one, but it’s in the top three.
For years my mother just thought I got tired of it and that’s why I quit. Last year I happened to tell her the truth for the first time ever. My following words, which were true, are ones I now regret: I’d love to have a piano and get back into it.
Sigh. Do you see this lovely thing?
I love it so very much. I really do. In theory at least. My mother and step-father gave it to me for my birthday. They are amazing and I love them for it.
I’d hoped it would come back to me. It didn’t. I’d hoped I could re-teach myself by YouTube. I can’t. It’s just another thing I can’t manage to find time or energy to deal with.
It makes me so freaking guilty. It sits there are clean and shiny and waiting for me to play on it. I walk past it 72 times a day and I’ve learned to not look at it.
I wish I’d said, I’d love to re-learn to play the piano when my kids were grown or maybe when I retire. Or something. Something that would have not made them think, oh lets get her a piano!!!
Now it’s my guilt piano. Maybe one day I’ll find a way to change that. Until then…I just won’t look down at it as I walk past.
ps. I know that everyone and their brother reads The Bloggess. This post today? Was the most real thing I’ve read online in a long time. I understand and honestly feel the same way about 99% of the time. I thought I’d share. Because well…I remember that bloggers used to do that.
Six months have gone by since I’ve written a single word. Well unless you count random Facebook statuses, which I don’t. My intention was to learn to write for me, yet all I managed to do, when deleting my last blog, was stop writing altogether. I miss it. The writing. The blogging. The connections. The simple act of putting the words in my head, someplace besides my head.
I have no real clue as to what I’ll talk about here, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out over time. My life has changed so much in the last six months that I’m not even sure where to start. It feels good to write this though.
Hi blogging world. I guess I’m back. Me. Just me. No fancy site. No Twitter. No ads. No old posts to muck up things. Just plain ole crazy me.