Thinking about…

what does it mean to be a grown ass woman?

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Not an exclusive dichotomy:

Is real life the everyday, routine stuff, punctuated by Events, or is it the big days on which your memory hangs, in retrospect, while the filler of teethbrushing and bed-making recedes?

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What is the opposite of remembering?

A character in a book I was reading last night “disremembered” something. Which feels distinct from misremembering or forgetting. How much more I like the words olvido, oublie. Obliviate? Too much like bloviate? Anyway: dwelling this morning on memory’s various forms of failure.

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Sometimes all I want to be asked…

how are you? are you happy?

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Begging the Question

Were it that, in fact, the source of misery is often preoccupation with the self, and further that forgetfulness of self is a way to be happy, is forgetfulness of self in that class of pesky things which can be achieved only by willingness, never by willfulness? Related question: how may I be of service?

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If one is going to…

go to the trouble of learning how to ride a horse, oughtn’t one learn properly, on the steppes of Mongolia?

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Can You Tell Me How to Get to Sesame Street?

Just kidding, that’s not a real question. I don’t think. Blessedly woke up this morning with my main preoccupation being not how very far I am from being able to do all I would like to be able to do on the violin, but how to do better the passage I started working on this week. It’s glorious to have a passage that is fresh so I can hear how I am actually playing it instead of my habit of what I think it sounds like, to get to go into it deciding where in the bow, which fingering, what dynamic level, what ringing tones to listen for to get in tune, and I am trying as hard as I can to practice slowly. So maybe today’s question is how can I make that a habit, get back to this mode, this perspective? How does one switch appropriately between...

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