Mind games

Work first. Play later!

While songwriting, I create this, how can I say, side products and I never know to do with them. Poems of an inner rhythm that only I can hear and often too awkward to make any sense. For uncleared reasons, I love them dearly tho. I treasure them and feel ashamed of their pathetic overloaded presence just as much as I sigh yes to every word. They are notes to myself. Conversations, diary monologues and the place where the word is by itself and has no melody. That’s why I’ve gotta love them you see ? This poor crooked rhymes and soundless word creations. Words without a tone but with a soul.

I am like a field with countless puddles. Water pools in broken concrete. I’m full of turquoise greens and my oceanside is as peaceful as a resting dragon.

I am a woman carrying her ancestors wisdom and trying to get by. Not glorious and not heroic. Barefoot and often too tired but constantly reaching for my destiny.

The week begins and my mind, no, not only my mind, my whole self is locked in, or at least pretends to be. To pretend to be all focused is kind of a trick I play to myself because if I pretend long enough it actually happens. Focused, fearless and free of doubts. My priority list is prioritising my creative time, pressuring me to not do the grocery shopping first and not to open this stock of emails cluttering my inbox. 117 unopened emails constantly filling my cup of guilt. The mountain of laundry is pretty much in danger to crumble but as it almost touches the ceiling I simply turn my back on it. I don’t have time. I am putting myself first oh yes, didn’t I read this lately in my horoscope that I shall put myself first? Alright then queen Z, I proudly ignore the blinking lights on my dishwasher. Who cares if there is milk in the fridge really. I am an artist. A free spirit and creator. Monday duties calling ? I am not available at the moment please try again later.

I’ve learned to first work and play later but I my work never feels like work just like play. What a contradiction and what a conflict. There is nothing I’d rather do than sitting at my piano, following the invisible lines of sound in me. Nothing better than getting all lost in music just to be found again in one unfolding idea that might become a full new song one day. Incomparable how music can fill me, cells to the bones with energy. I don’t work when I play the piano neither when I sing or write on a song.

Now this is my dilemma.

If I love my work with everything that I am, aren’t I supposed to do all the other stuff first? Isn’t the rest of this daily requests the real work cause making music doesn’t feel like working at all ? Or am I not taking myself serious feeling like this and I absolutely should because if I would I could reward myself for working 18 hours most days because yes I don’t sleep more than about 6 hours mostly and the rest of the time I think about music. I play instead of work. I sing and my soul jubilant my heart overflows writing.

What shall I do first? Buy milk or play and sing ?

As you can see, I managed to paralyse myself with this kind of thoughts not really worth a minute reading time. Mind games.

I’ll overwrite this work first and then play later sentences in my mind.Restart, reset, renew.

And sweet music from the morning !