Last night I made my way home from work at 6pm. Along the walk I realized that this was the first time in quite some time that I had been headed home at this hour. Actually, I can't remember the last time. With a few exceptions, most every night for the last two and a half years I have made my way somewhere else other than home during the hours after work. In general, this is the life of someone who makes music and teaches and sees friends and... but the real time sucker has been that two evenings of every week have been dedicated to class.
I remember two and a half years ago when I was at Linsey's house and we were grilling on her back porch and I told my friends I had committed to a grad school program at DePaul. I think when I actually said I was going to do it, I didn't believe that I would complete it. It seemed like the right thing to do as it is/was a benefit of my work, but really, I didn't see myself finishing the entire degree.
I don't know that I actually ever committed to the degree, but I plowed through the program, going to class year round for this entire time and I finished the program, while working full-time, while singing, while making art, while teaching, and in general I feel pretty damn good about it. But, this isn't meant to be an overall pat on my back, but rather a testament to the passage of time and the possibility of new found opportunity... not because I'll have a masters degree, but because my time won't be committed in the ways it has been for so long.
So, as I was walking home and I walked into my apartment and realized I actually didn't even recognize the way the light looked in my place during that time of day, I felt a general sense of relief a bit of fear, and some more excitement. I made some pasta, caught up on some e-mails and watched some television. All in all, nothing happened, and that was totally alright.
I remember two and a half years ago when I was at Linsey's house and we were grilling on her back porch and I told my friends I had committed to a grad school program at DePaul. I think when I actually said I was going to do it, I didn't believe that I would complete it. It seemed like the right thing to do as it is/was a benefit of my work, but really, I didn't see myself finishing the entire degree.
I don't know that I actually ever committed to the degree, but I plowed through the program, going to class year round for this entire time and I finished the program, while working full-time, while singing, while making art, while teaching, and in general I feel pretty damn good about it. But, this isn't meant to be an overall pat on my back, but rather a testament to the passage of time and the possibility of new found opportunity... not because I'll have a masters degree, but because my time won't be committed in the ways it has been for so long.
So, as I was walking home and I walked into my apartment and realized I actually didn't even recognize the way the light looked in my place during that time of day, I felt a general sense of relief a bit of fear, and some more excitement. I made some pasta, caught up on some e-mails and watched some television. All in all, nothing happened, and that was totally alright.
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