Ritorna Vincitor!

My title today comes from one of the most famous arias in Verdi's "Aida": essentially in the first act, the Egyptians welcome the return of their beloved warriors, but the Ethiopians aren't as thrilled....must be that whole enslavement deal. Regardless, warriors & victors are celebrated, and I'm feeling a bit "Radames-like", returning for my 19th year to the BSO's summer spot. 

I'm currently in a favorite place on the Tanglewood campus. Amongst the mobs of music devotees (and rich snobs who wouldn't know a Chopin etude if it clobbered them over the damned head), there is a quiet place on the back porch of the Visitors' Center. It attracts cool breezes on muggy days, and is shade from the glorious skin-frying sun (I got all the Irish genes on that front; if I even look at a picture of a sunny day, I burn.) This is my current view: 

Not too shabby, eh? The Stockbridge Bowl is almost a sky-matching blue today, and the greens out here are...I don't know....even MORE somehow. The air smells fresh, the music floats from the Shed, and all is right with the world. 

It makes for an interesting and relaxing place to write. Words trip along, and I skip down the path they provide. Most of the time it's nonsense that I don't even give a second glance, but the Stockbridge Bowl/Berkshire Mountain view today made me stop and take notice of my own scribbling.  

I've had a decent run of things the last few months. After my time at McLean in May, I set out once again and started to work on music. I started to write a bit more each day. I started to take an even more vested interest in library work. I began to collect information on MFA programs. I also began to talk in even more depth with my doctors, and held them accountable for answers. It's annoying as hell to watch people with practically 10 years of school and even more years of experience shrug their shoulders at you, but I'm not going anywhere. I'm in this thing called life, and I'm in it for keeps. 

Now that doesn't mean there haven't been bad days. There are days when I cry, days when I scream, days when I'm so frustrated with my bloody limitations that I could punch someone in the throat (don't worry: Paulie's throat is intact). There are days when I would like nothing more than to drag a blade across my skin, knowing that my messy brain would thank me for the relief of it. 

I've struggled astronomically with my memory. Names, dates, songs, quotes, and events have simply been erased.The last 10 years are mostly gone. I'm still struggling with olfactory hallucinations, everyday, multiple times a day. Same with the visual hallucinations......And I can't remember if I've blogged about this before, so you'll forgive any repeats, yes? Everyone loves reruns!

I look at the beautiful scene before me now, and I remember that it has its own kinds of bad days. Days of rain, days of terrible wind, days of snowstorms and ice everywhere. Days when people throw trash on it, dig it up for no good reason, or try and pollute it in some way.

But in the summer, I can come to this bench......

.....to this view......

.....a score in one hand, coffee in the other......

.....and declare this one of our good days.