Day 12 – Purple Sundays and Caffeinated Waltzes

I’m getting a slightly early start on the post tonight. Woohoo!
When I was younger (like in grade school through high school), I had an odd, or different, sense, or feeling about time than did my fellow pupils. Of course I celebrated each birthday, proudly proclaiming that I was “this many” years old. And I’m sure I couldn’t wait for certain times or occasions to arrive, like a party, or a trip. But overall, I had a melancholy nature growing up. Perhaps that’s why/how I make up for it by being somewhat effervescent, bubbly, talkative, etc. In truth, I am not an extrovert. I’ve been on stage in some capacity since I was 6, and before that I sang at daycare or kindegarten shows/pageants, etc. But just because someone is a performer doesn’t mean that he or she needs to, or even CAN, be on, 24/7. So while I enjoyed performing, I also enjoyed time with my family. And friends. But I noticed, with sadness, that days would end. As a 7- or 8-year-old, I grew sad about another day coming to an end. I wasn’t fearful of the next day, sometimes I even looked forward to it, but I always mourned the passing of another day. The worst were Sundays. Not only was a day ending, so was a weekend, and thus another week. I remember sitting in my bedroom, looking out the window at the setting sun, thinking, “This Sunday will never be again.”
That is a bit dramatic, I realize. But it also lays the foundation for what I’ve been doing for most of my adult life, and the name of this blog. I have been working, traveling, studying here and there and everywhere, trying to find “it.” Myself. My reason for being. Trying to experience as much as I can before yet another day passes, never to be seen again. Una vocis is me trying to find my voice. My “me.”
This mentality has even affected my favorite day of the week. Normal people like Fridays, because it’s the end of the work week and the beginning of the weekend. Others choose Saturday because it IS the weekend. What’s my favorite day? Thursday.  And why? Because, though I agree Fridays are otherwise the best days, and weekends are pure bliss, there’s nothing like Thursday: It’s the day that you know Friday is almost here, and along with that, the weekend. So rather than enjoying a day for what it is, I look forward to the day that foreshadows the good things to come. It’s like I can’t just like Fridays and be done with it. There is a term in music theory for notes that sound the resolution before it actually comes: anticipation. That’s what I seem to like: anticipation. Thursdays are tinged with “weekendness,” but all the ooey gooey creamy goodness of the weekend is still to come.
Today, a Sunday, I had an audition. That in and of itself is a positive thing. And it was actually a very good experience. But because it was on a Sunday, and it took most of my day to drive there and back, it left me unable to really appreciate my Sunday. Like others, and especially as an introvert-at-heart, I need these evenings or half-days to recharge. Sundays, even were I not a believer in a divinity, would still be a day of much-needed soul rest. The last of its kind before the hecticness of the new week begins.
And for some reason, I always “saw” these melancholy Sundays as being purple. It is now my favorite color, it is the color of the Church season of Lent, but I don’t particularly think of it as a sad color.
… At the audition, we were asked to do some improv to some music with a coffee mug. We were to be strung out for and on caffeine, trying to get our morning fix. And then we waltzed. By ourselves.
So that is where I get purple, melancholy Sundays and caffeinated waltzes.
May your Sunday be bright and colorful.


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