Oh, Muse!

Oh, Muse! Rest thy dissonant discords of failed overtures!

Alas, another weekend has come and gone and not a single note. It definitely was busier than imagined, but still - I have no excuse for not practicing Moonlight. Sad, I feel I may have forgotten those many hours of laborious memorization.

The week is almost over leaving four weeks until school breaks for summer vacation. Oh the agony of the wait...patience.

So, it is way past my bedtime and sleep escapes my senses leaving me here, typing on the computer, hoping to burn my eyes into blissful slumber. I regret this method has much flaw, for I have been known to stay up even later, engrossed in some remedial, online, addictive brain teaser demanding I do better with every click of "New Game". Granted, my score does improve, but my sleeping habits do not. Now I am rambling about nothing at all for lack of imagination. And so, I shall leave you on that "note" intending to pursue the over-rated, domesticated habit called sleeping.

End Note: The picture was hand-drawn April 1, 1988. It was an illustration to a poem, I wrote, personifying worry. Worry displayed it's emotional name much to the discomfort a pillow, filled of feathers. Needless to say, by the end of the poem not a single feather remained within the confines of the once neatly sewn fabric. I'd like to say that no pillows were harmed in the writing of the poem, but that would be a lie. However! I can say that no bird was harmed in the writing of the poem! Yet, I don't know if any bird was harmed in the making of the pillow...?