Friday, October 12, 2012


The rain has come back to this rainy town, and maybe people are mourning for our endlessly sunny September, but I look out of my living room window and see this:
and I am secretly very happy. (Would you have guessed from this photo that on some days I can see the North Shore mountains from this window? Didn't think so.)
I think I'm happy not so much because it's grey and cold, but because the weather's change has echoed a change in my own life, as I finish a contract that had a punishing effect on my schedule, and as I adjust to school and my new life as a student.
Yesterday I sat at this table, which serves as a desk, printing station, computer home, and general paper-dumping area. I put Chet Baker on the cd player and I surveyed the grey day with great satisfaction. I was home. I had time to catch up on homework, a little practice, some cleaning. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was so good.
I'm so happy that I had the chance to do this sound design contract...
(So proud. You can go and hear my work, if you like, until November 3rd.)
...but I'm also glad it's over, and I'm glad it happened when it did, because I have the feeling that school just isn't going to feel so tough after the craziness and fatigue of this month. I'm talking under-eye smudges, shuttling back and forth from school to work, despair, and crying jags that were a little scary. I don't do tired very gracefully, I'm afraid.
My grandpa died a little while ago. He was my last surviving grandparent, and now he's gone. My dad flew to the UK to take care of the business that happens when someone dies, and to be at the funeral. I sent him a note to read at the funeral, which was today. And really, I struggled with what to say, because Grandpa and I were never close, at least not after I grew up. He was an uptight man, very fussy. I don't think he was very happy most of his life, and he was certainly very unhappy when he went into a home a few years ago. He went downhill pretty fast after that, which is pretty common I guess.
In the end I wrote that he had made me proud to have Welsh heritage (his accent was one of the loveliest things about him), that I hoped some of my musical skills came from him, (or at least our Welsh ancestors), and that he had instilled a love of family and good food in his children and his grandchildren. All true. He's left us all some money- I don't know how much yet- and it's weird knowing that someone I hardly knew would leave me something like that, but I'll try and honour his memory by putting it to good use and making my life better with it. If it's a lot of money it will make tuition easier to pay, and if it's just a bit of money then I'll have a really good dinner somewhere, because although he would have frowned at the extravagance, Grandpa really liked his food.
Today I survey my grubby neighbourhood (which Grandpa would have hated) with glee, happy to be here, happy to be home, and I raise a metaphorical glass to his memory.