Blah.

Yes, I know. You don't read this for a dose of negativity, but I feel crappy. It's 1:11 pm, Thursday and I've accomplished very little this week. My CDs transfer project is almost complete - three bags of trashed jewel cases and three heavy binders of happily organized CDs. Still. I'm sleeping in the guest room at my parents because my own room frightens me. Bins and bags and boxes tower about the room. Half of the things in these receptacles could be gotten rid of and the other half needs to go into storage until I have a job and an apartment. Alas, these two halves are mingled and I must sort to cull. It is overwhelming.

Add the uselessness to the sad anniversary on Tuesday and I'm quite blah. Tuesday, I listened to John Adams' On the Transmigration of Souls while driving home from hanging out with my seester and the baby. It is a sad and restoring piece. Commissioned by the New York Philharmonic to commemorate the first anniversary of the September 11th attacks, the piece is a beautiful and challenging listen.

There is a Radio Lab show on Musical Language. Fascinating the discussion on how sound is processed by the ear and the brain. It brings to mind the debate as to whether music, non-vocal, conveys emotion or the listener invests the music with emotion.

I'm off to try and wheedle a bit of productivity out of myself.