Opus 3

This will be a dark post. I’m in one of the rages that I get when the world tries to stop me from living my life. I’m doing chores, I’m going to places, I’m calling and emailing people to arrange things that need to be arranged. But that’s not my life. That’s just modern existence, and it doesn’t come anywhere close to how I want to live.

I want to create, and I want to enjoy books and music. I’m doing neither at the moment. It seems as though every time I clear up a petty task or duty, someone else comes along, banging his hand on my door, demanding attention. What makes these dumb twerps think they have the right to do this? They’ll never know how much I hate them for putting me through this misery. I hate them and hate them.

Why does everyone assume I have time? They come, asking for a half-hour, a few hours, maybe even a whole day. They say it like nothing, as though a day in my life was worth less than a forgotten penny on the pavement. ‘You won’t even spare a day to do this for me? What kind of citizen are you?’ And before I know it, the days have added up, and I find myself stuck in a dead end with no forseeable spare time for weeks ahead.

Times like this make me understand why some people are deeply uncharitable. Every time my life gets like this, I get dangerously close to turning off my smartphone and refusing to answer the doorbell, no matter what, until I’ve done all the things I want to do. Listen to me! I don’t want to do things for you and your opinions mean nothing to me. Your life means nothing to me. Leave me alone.

I’m terrified that I won’t be able to make the extended, and final, deadline for the Short Sounds Film Festival. I need to adjust the velocities of individual notes and mix the track. Then the revised version of ‘Into Winter‘ will be complete. I won’t submit the old version. I can hear that the newer one is better. I don’t want to settle for delivering less than what I know I can give.

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