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#Hustling #GoalDigger

I'm sitting at my "desk," wishing this typical winter cold would just pack up and leave already. As I start this post, I still have two hours to wait before my marathon three-hour speech class taught from my dining room. I call it a "desk" because it is really just a card table propped against the wall. One of my mother's lap blankets serves as a colorful foundation. The space is cluttered. To my left is a lamp that's sole purpose is to make me look better on Zoom since the light is to my right. I have a small note pad with some of my niece's sketches when she was considerably younger. I have a wicker basket full of pens, pencils (regular lead and colored), crayons, and markers of various sizes. To my right is my physical grade book and my planner, with very minimal notes of what we are doing in class today. Smack in front of me are calendars (mostly for the pictures), notes for both current classes and for a class starting next month, a running record of my finances and reminders of what I spend my money on, to ensure that I take advantage of everything I have. A set of flower paintings create a divide between an open space from the kitchen. Various paperwork, not at all organized, falls in baskets and drawers to the right of desk plates that read #Hustling and #GoalDigger. I bought them about 34 months ago and change when I first moved into my current apartment.



(No, I don't have the Boss Lady one. I found this on Google.) These desk plates sometimes mock me. I'm not often hustling enough or digging for those goals. I'm not trying hard enough. My current sickness may be an excuse, but this has also become a general pattern. I haven't used the pandemic well. I haven't used my "free time" well. I try to sit and create, like I see so many others do so successfully. Their success becomes dispiriting after a while. Before sitting down to write this post, I had the idea to record another Dining Room Reading. But, I don't have any new content I want to record and release, and the old stuff is boring me. Plus, I sound less than on my voice today. Maybe there's a piece somewhere that could benefit from that. I sat down and immediately broke one of my goals: I checked social media. I saw that when I last requested subscribers, my base had jumped from 13 to 19, mostly due to some friends of a dear friend who posted my channel and asked people to subscribe. I saw that people had commented on her, the friend's, page, so I put a thank you there as well. I didn't fall much deeper down that rabbit hole, though.

I was singing through songbooks earlier. The other day I wanted to record "To Comfort You," but I'm not quite hitting the notes when I listen to the recordings. It sounds good to me in my head, but the recording tells a different story. Some of those recordings made me never want to sing again. I actually did have that experience over seventeen years ago. I was rehearsing for a show I put together of other people's music. The accompanist I hired made a comment about my singing that instantly made me never want to sing again. But, sing again I did. It's not my strongest suit, but I can hold my own. It's one of those skills that I know if I took lessons and had a proper setting to rehearse and record that I could make something out of it. I haven't studied voice since college. There was an activity sometime back led by a member of a group I belong to that had us create drawings out of a tiny sliver of shape. One drawing was a musical staff, and according to the instructor, that drawing meant that's where my future lies, in music.

Well, this took up some time. Thank you for reading.


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In December 2018 a very short 'play' of mine, which was more like an SNL skit, premiered in front of a live audience. Before then, it had been twenty years since my words were the context of a perform