Another fun post written in a music teachers flat. This time I’ve been relegated into his kitchen, all the other rooms in the house are being covered in thick layers of noxious, white paint. I would say it’s pretty nice. The desktops are some nice oily wood and like any middle class middle aged white man he has two ripe avocados sitting beside his fruit bowls (on the topic of avocados the price for them is extortionate).
In the room next door there’s a girl playing the violin. She’s about 10 i think and had a grade coming up. I never bothered to enquire what level, probably 3 or 4. But her attitude towards it, her sense of optimism doesn’t seem like someone with an impending exam. I for exam have mine next Wednesday and am counting down the days, worried out of my mind (a little bit of over exaggeration but not really).
I’m not sure what it was like being young, carefree and not bothering about the world. You never realize that you’ve lost those qualities as you grow up. I suppose like the frog being cooked in the French kitchen you never realize how dire your predicament is until you, like the frog, end up dead.
Now that all sounds a little morbid but I do suppose I miss being a child. A caveat of this whole mind expansions and learning from these mentors, trying to improve life. Is that I never really have time to slow down and grow up. That sounds awful and emotional but I don’t suppose it’s bad. I spend most of my school time laughing and clowning
around with friends. But my free time seems to be nonexistent. I had planned to watch an hour of tv last night (the men in the high castle) but that kind of got swept under the rug in the face of French revision.
It’s not to complain about any of that. Most of my work is totally selfimposed. I don’t have to revise, my parents don’t force me. I could miss sessions of rowing if I wanted to. I could practise less piano if I wanted to. But my fear is that, like the druggie, I say I could quite anytime, but the reality is much different.
Anyway there is something about a child’s sense of wonderment that appeals to me. To be able to find joy (happiness?) in the simplest things and be amused at the littlest things. This dopamine addicted world we live in now barely gives us time to relax and admire our world. That’s probably part of the reason I quite social media, I was tired on relying on my phone (and others) for pleasure and enjoyment whenever I was bored.
I’ve been trying to cultivate that wonder recently. I suppose like most things it can be generated through continual use. Anyway the other day I lay on a bench outside a church for 5 minutes and looked at the clouds whisky pondering why ice cream tasted so good. (hint it’s because it’s fatty and sugary at the same time)