Do you ever just get the feeling that your life doesn’t mean anything? I mean of course it means something, you’re living it. It has to have some sort of something that’s keeping you getting up in the morning. But I guess what I’m really talking about is a purpose. Like how when you were little you thought you could do everything (me: doctor, pianist, president) and then you come to find out that it’s very hard to do even one thing moderately well let alone three things very well.
And while I know how to:
apply a Band Aid to a cut,
play Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C Sharp Minor, and
was voted in my high school yearbook as “Most Likely To Be President”-
I still don’t feel like I’ve accomplished half the things I set out to do back when I would put on my father’s white dress shirt that I wore like a lab coat and listened to the sound of people hearts through my yellow plastic stethoscope –
buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom.
Why can’t we change our minds now as easily as we did then? Because we’ve set a path, we’ve paid for (and are still paying for) a college degree that doesn’t allow us to cut people open or play with the Boston Symphony. We are paying to simply maintain our lives in cities and towns all over world. But what if?
What if, what if, what if –
you want more than that?
buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom
The sound of something meaning.
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