I couldn't be a good girl tonight. I've been good for too long, and I had to break some of my own rules, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I still can. That, or perhaps merely to reinforce that what I was doing was the right thing after all. For the first time in months, the man and I went out to the movies on a Friday night, and I rebelled and ate movie popcorn. By the time we left the theater, my stomach was swollen and pained (and not just because of the jumbo coke I had as well), and my ears were popping like I was at altitude. My eyes felt like they were bulging out as well, and I can't tell whether the ringing in my ears was louder (tinnitis is a constant companion). The ride home was uncomfortable.
I don't know what inspired me to feel the need for rebellion like this. Maybe it was the impending surgery. Maybe it was just a minor ruckus dreamed up by my inner child. My rebellions tend not to be large, dramatic events. They're small, and usually the only person damaged by them is my own bad self. I always said my biggest teenage rebellion was quitting piano lessons. I have regretted doing that ever since. I will always wonder whether I could have been a concert pianist, had I not gotten frustrated by my second instructor's insistence on a Chopin piece that had rolling triplets that were too big for my hands to play comfortably. (I could try to dig out the music to be accurate, but my memory is of tenths, while my narrow hands only easily spread in a single octave, maybe a ninth if I'm really stretching.) I suppose since my rebellious streak never extended to a life of crime, or damaging other people, I should feel okay with myself. Doesn't mean I won't pay for tonight's foolishness with a stomachache and maybe a migraine.
One of the things I promised to do when we finally move back to Colorado is to help my BFF keep tabs on her kids after school, making sure that they do their homework and practice piano before they wander off into videogameland. The kids have only been playing a year or two, but already they are taking to it like they were born with their hands on a keyboard. This is something I'm really looking forward to, and I feel like I need to start practicing again myself, as well as brushing the rust off of my musical theory knowledge. I must temper my expectations, however. I can't live vicariously through their own musical accomplishments, having given up on my own, and I can't push them into the same rebellion I had when I was fifteen or sixteen. But it will feel good to get a daily dose of piano music again. I can hardly wait.
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