California's recent storms have coincided nicely with our discussion of weather in German. Almost immediately after my professor began to teach some weather vocabulary today came a roar of thunder - particularly loud because the classroom door was open.
Yesterday we waited about 30 minutes in similar weather outside of the Griddle Cafe in Hollywood, which turned out to be quite worth the wait. We ordered a giant pancake filled with Oreos, which was incredibly tasty, and so large that two of us could only finish about 2/3 of it. The issue was not so much its size as its sugar content. I would like to know precisely how many Oreos I consumed yesterday, because I have never been so repulsed by the thought of sweet food as I was after that pancake. I have now gone nearly a day and a half without eating anything sugary, which is a little unusual for me.
And now for a discussion of an eternally evident trend: that frequency of blog posts varies inversely with the blog's age.
Over the void of the past few months I have developed an admiration for daily bloggers - this is something to work towards. (Side note: Blogger.com's spell check insists that "blog" and "blogger" are not words.)When you've just started a blog the words come effortlessly: in 2007 I posted 17 times in November and December alone. You might not suspect writing a few sentences each day to be difficult - it certainly sounds simple to me.
But I have some chronic writer's block. I've attributed it to a lack of motivation: the same deficiency which prevents me from picking up a book and reading it, working on a large-scale programming project, or actually getting the music in my head onto paper. Instead I find myself watching movies and television, presumably due to their minimal brainpower requirement.
Case in point: this weekend I watched all three Bourne movies, which were quite enjoyable, though a bit formulaic:
Bourne, to self: Who am I?!
Some CIA division head: I want all eyes in (European city) on Bourne! Give the asset his location!
Bourne, on the phone with division head: Send (CIA employee) to meet me at (crowded European city square). Come alone!
Some CIA employee: That place is a surveillance nightmare!!
CIA division head: I want snipers on the rooftops! And all eyes on Bourne!
Bourne: You didn't come alone! I'm out of here!
(car chase in which Bourne escapes and then travels to another European city)
Intellectualism has been pushed to the sidelines. Although recently Frank told me he might be able to show my clarinet sonata to a clarinetist and a pianist, which prompted me to make some revisions. Since I finished the piece last summer there have been a few unsatisfactory spots: in particular a stale restatement of the main melody of the first movement down an octave. I've since replaced it with a passage in which the clarinetist refuses to play, to the pianist's dismay. They proceed to musically mock each other until the pianist flips out and begins to play discordant variations on the clarinet's themes. Of course, this probably sounds much more interesting in words than in reality.
This has only confirmed my suspicion that I need some incentive beyond personal satisfaction to actually accomplish things. School is never an issue because it entails its own deadlines and provides immediate feedback. But I worry that when I lack the motivation to do what I consider my hobbies, there might be a problem.
What motivates you?
