Middle Age Blues

I'm cranking away on the Cristofori upgrade. Actually the new version isn't that much harder than the older version. And having some Joplin under my belt is a leg upon the new fingerings. I'm not quite sure of the composer's intent yet--it seems he's simplified some of the parts (perhaps in the interest of speed? I don't know) while embellishing other parts in lovely ways. I'll discuss this with my teacher and see what she thinks.

I still seem to be in a slump. I have no real enthusiasm for anything. I love playing my piano but have no oomph for anything else. I just do the things that have to get done, and with no real enthusiasm at that. This may be an artifact of having to force myself to do everything through an extended period of illness, but i don't know. I think I'll start taking walks and see if I can get my head straight.

People quick to perform armchair diagnoses would label this a "depression," but what exactly does that mean? I've been depressed before--the clinical kind, and this ain't it. This is more of a lack of interest in anything; suspension; a feeling of waiting to see if anything is going to happen. I can't explain it. Like someone waiting to get out of jail, or for something outside of oneself to occur to break the monotony. Nah, that's too dramatic: more like waiting for the next bus to come along and take me somewhere interesting.

Usually I'm fairly self-sufficient and imune to what goes on"out there." I have this self-created bubble I live in that sustains me. But for a while now I think my bubble has faltered and let the outside world come in and taint my happy place.