The summer of 2006 represented the first time in my life where I’ve had a block of time entirely devoid of organized activities.  For two and a half months, I was left to my own devices — to write my Extended Essay (which I did), to recover from junior year (accomplished with aplomb), and to otherwise keep myself in check (eh).  And after the grueling third year of high school, it was more than necessary and I’m glad that I fought the relevant battles and got my way.

The only problem comes with my cello playing.  Cello has been an inseparable part of my life since I was a little shy of the age of four, and while my routine of practicing and weeky lessons tends to be eased over the summer (while my teacher goes to music festivals and workshops and other exciting things), this summer was something new:  I opened my cello case once in over two months.  I occasionally felt bad, but for one reason or another never did anything about it.  And while I’ve started practicing regularly again this week, I feel.. unsurprisingly out of form.

One conversation I had been dreading, though, was the one that would come when my teacher inevitably called; according to a memo on my dad’s Treo, he’s beek back in town since the second week of August and for all that time, we hadn’t called him.  About five minutes before I started drafting this post, he called.  The most poignant bit of the conversation was:

Ross:  Are you still interested in studying the cello?
Me:  Yes!  I’ve been getting back into my routine, but with school starting and all of that, I’m still getting adjusted.
Ross:  Well, when would you want to start lessons again?

Given that I’ve only resumed my practicing for three days, I opted for next weekend.  But it was decidedly an awful situation.  It’s a weird loop:  playing my cello is unpleasant because it needs new strings, making passages in high positions sound terrible, but my mother is reluctant to spend close to $150 on a new set of strings when I haven’t been practicing, nor is she purchasing the sheet music that I’ve needed for months already.  So I’m stuck, my playing is stuck, my teacher has no idea what’s going on, and all I’m left to do is whine on LiveJournal.  Score.